#(and i hope this chapter turned out alright too)

[yourplasticlittlespastic]

E̴N̴T̴W̴I̴N̴E̴D̴ - Series

Part 2

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f/reader

Warnings: Pure Fluff! Raw +18 warnings will come later in other chapters

Notes: That's right, I plan to make it a series. Not too short, not too long but enough! Benedict has stolen my days and nights and I've been daydreaming too much ngl.

WC: 3.5K

Humidity has reached its peak.

You cursed quite low as the sweat forming on your lower back created a wave of uncomfortableness and nevertheless, you were putting yet another layer of fabric. Madame Delacroix called it freshening and here you are, the third hour of trying out the fabrics of the newly imported cloth.

"Better than whalebone, is it not mon cherie?"

You looked at Madame Delacroix with the sense of cursing her too but you smiled rather sweetly "Steel you said? It is... better" You felt the structure of the corset, still very fitting and nothing different from the previous ones except for the metal strips on the side.

"Bien, we shall get it" The seamstress nodded and started working immediately and as you stood there; presence made statue and breath made a mere flow you saw people passing, your mother with her pupils dilated as the colours of fabric captured her you wondered if perhaps things could go more easily this season.

A sudden wave of hope filled you at the thought of not having Daphne around, not to confuse it with hate, you love the Bridgertons but the eldest sister made quite a chaos last time that unfortunately even if some pair of eyes landed on you, Daphne and the Duke took most for themselves.

When you returned to your house, adorned with the marble that was polished every morning of every day, you lay on your bed tired of doing absolutely nothing. Looking pretty in a burgundy dress is not a task that burns brain cells.

“Mama” you said with your head facing the ceiling and your legs swinging.

The woman who you were looking for entered the room, holding a cup of tea in her hands and a smile on her face, one that was painted so naturally, one that she passed to you.

“Yes, my dear?”

“May I go to the Bridgertons?”

“Now?” Your mother saw the agony on your face “I want you back before sunset”

“You must not worry” Your heels clicked on the ground as you got up, a smile on your face and the feeling of going to a friend's house instead of spending the day in your chambers “Finally, finally” you whispered clumsily going outside your grandiose mansion and breathing the powdery vs. Pollen of London’s air.

It was a three-minute stroll as you turned the block towards the Bridgertons; ultimately you saw the gates open and the carriage that was waiting outside.

The sun was shining as you looked upwards, the sky a shade of blue that reminded you of the ocean, the one that your father brought you to a couple of summers ago.

You knocked twice and waited for someone to open, a maid appeared and bowed.

“Miss Ashbourne”

“Morning Rose, may I?”

“Please, the ladies are-“

“In the drawing-room, I assume, as always”

“Miss Penelope is there as well"

"The more, the better. Thank you, Rose" With pose you took your dress and tried to walk inside the beautiful almost similar entree of the house but-

"Anthony?!"

You smiled at the voice and before stepping into the staircase you turned around and made your way to the other room; the one that always smelled like oils and wood.

“I believe your sight might be flawed… that or you quite meant I look like Anthony”

Benedict’s eyes lift from the painting, a smile spreading on his lips and you did the same.

“In spirit perhaps” he curved his lips “Forgive me Miss Ashbourne, the angle from this side is not ideal to see who walks around”

“Hmmm that’s alright,” you said stepping into the middle of the room, the tiles stained with long-forgotten strokes “How are you?”

“Not bad at all and you?”

“I could be better, a boring day it is but I meant if you were fine after art school and…” you stopped to see if you were not being impertinent but he seemed to put his wooden palette down and pierced his ears “I mean…”

“That’s kind of you to ask, Y/N” he shrugs “I’m dealing with it well, I’m content with what I’m doing right now and what happened there it was to be enjoyed”

“That’s good,” you said ready to leave the room “Well I shall leave you with your…” your eyes caught the painting, a room adorned with frames and curtains “Beautiful painting”

"Thank you, I'm still polishing it but thank you" He eyes you oh so slowly as he squinted his eyes “Would you like to stay for a while?”

“Oh”

“Come on, I’ve always enjoyed sharing words with you”

"Well..." You said unsure, you didn't want to leave him so fast after the kind words and the invitation, it was rude of you "I would like to"

"Good, you can sit right there" He pointed to the chair and you did what you were told, watching how Benedict moved the easel and the chair behind, you heard a bit of noise as the stool and his tools were put in a table, he sat down and looked at you

"Tell me, I know you’re a debutante this season”

You snorted that the sound made Benedict laugh in return “My days have been filled with the preparations for this season and my mama is driving me crazy because apparently, I don't know how to sit and breathe"

"What?"

“I move my chest too quickly that it looks like I’m always on the verge of an attack, that’s what she says. I never thought controlling my breathing would be a concern in my life but here we are”

How eyes had a mind of their own because they landed very briefly on the straight neckline of your dress and the mounds of your chest and he snapped only to say "She cares about you"

"I know" You shrugged “is just so… boring”

“What? Do you want some drama? Perhaps lady Whistledown-“

“Not the drama inked words can bring” you confessed “I do not know what I want from this season. Last one I was still an espectator and yet the chaos was too much to bear. This time… should I prefer quietness and routine? Or perhaps-“

“A scandal,” he said with a glint in his eyes “I would go for the latter but I'm not you"

"You think it's the right thing to do?"

"No, but I have a reputation to live up to" He smiles and you cannot help but laugh as his shoulders move in amusement "So I am the one to talk, aren't I?”

“Quite indeed you are, Benedict,” you said

“So” he smiled “can you spare some time so I can tell you how I achieved the perspective here?”

“I can spare a day or two”

“That’s real talking”

Benedict has always been keen on you. Your spirit reminded him of Anthony; how sharp and stubborn and your way of talking reminded him of Eloise; how straightforward and full of wit. Every time you found each other alone the conversation flowed like a river; the topics varied and he liked to be surprised, and you liked to surprise in return.

Today he was trying to explain to you how he was working on the perspective and the shading; you didn't understand half the things that were coming out of his mouth and yet you kept your attention on him, it was hard to do so as you saw how he moved his hand to demonstrate or the way he tilted his head with fervour.

It took a gentle few minutes for you to get into the atmosphere you always find with Benedict. The straight posture left your body as you moved your hands from your lap and made your way next to the canvas. Your nose could smell the painting and fresh oil splash on a jar. For all you know, Benedict Bridgerton, the tallest and silliest brother, had a way to make you feel yourself. Indeed with one and twenty years on this earth, you would say you have the closest for at least a solid seven with him: a good friend with good values and good lips, the former an observation you have assembled for the past two years.

“But who says that in the same painting orange and purple must avoid each other?” you asked staring at his fingers and the way he pointed at the canvas "hmmm?"

“You see, my professor said that the tones do not match and rather make the art cheap” he explained

"so" you laughed "if by any chance I decide to follow Lady Featherington's fashion trend and mix orange and purple in my wardrobe... I'll be considered cheap by your professor?"

He smiled looking down and hastily removed the curl from your side and allowed it to frame your face better "He would be mad to even think such a thing but please stay with your beautiful gowns, it makes your skin glow"

You stayed there feeling the pulsation at the back of your neck and the sudden urge to remain silent, the feeling of a blush forming and you were aware.

"Thank you" you whispered and moved away to see the painting closer, your hands behind your back.

"You're welcome" He smiled, not taking his eyes off of you and he saw how you were trying to avoid his stare.

Change the subject. You told yourself.

“Haven’t the styles changed over the years?" you asked out loud and trying very well to follow what your head was ordering "If orange and purple even join each other in the future I would be quite mad that it was not you who decided to pursue such an art transgression”

Benedict felt the most boyish with that compliment that he looked down and snorted all genuinely.

“We will see, I have several canvases ready to be corrupted and you. I mean you?” He smiled “How are your activities?”

Your smile grew large “Let me tell you about this book I’ve been reading, it has six volumes”

“I’m all ears, Miss Ashbourne”

That day apart from receiving multiple comments and opinions from Benedict about the biology books you stole from your father's library, you also received a scold from your mother alas you didn’t return when you were supposed to and you said you were encapsulated with the girls and the tea that tracking time was not good. Lost indeed between the smell of oil paintings and unfinished canvases.

And when debuting finally happened, oh so gracefully in front of the Queen. You smiled when it was over, the simple nod of Queen Charlotte alleviated any woes within your mother. You, Y/N Ashbourne a debutante with an ambitious mama by her side. The season was ready to begin.

A week was when you swore you could not feel your cheeks anymore. You have succeeded and had five suitors calling on you every day. The conversations were just a tad dry like the biscuits served by the Cowpers.

“Tighter”

Your squeal resonates only within you as your ladies tightened the corset and followed, as always, your mama’s orders.

“Tighter”

“Perhaps this is good, I feel like I might…”

“You are good my dear, tighter” your mother nodded

And the last squeal escaped your lips as you saw in the three mirror dresser how up your breasts appeared. After getting ready, with the greatest olive green beaded dress Madame Delacroix could design, you made your way to Lady Danbury’s Ball.

It was a night as expected. Your first dance was with a Viscount. He was old, not very handsome and didn't talk to you, you only nodded. The second was an Earl, you were thankful it was a waltz because it seemed that he was not keen on anything else than moving back and forth. The third much to your dismay and much to other girls’ amusement the Marquis of Ashdown stepped on your poor toes until you were destroyed not by dancing but by being in front of him.

“Quite young is he not?” Eloise said with a macabre smile

“Shush it, El. I am mostly embarrassed, he belongs in a nursery”

“And yet he is wife-hunting” she snickered “Nonetheless I must admit that if you two marry then you’ll downgrade from Ashbourne to Ashdown”

“Incredibly funny you are Eloise Bridgerton”

The night went as expected, everything as expected and nothing to be surprised about.

“Goodbye!” Eloise almost yelled that even you blinked in surprise and her quick getaway made you sense a male figure was coming your way so you turned and saw Lord Coxingworth, with his light blonde hair brushed backwards he requested a dance and finally your toes relaxed as well as your dancing skill made is debut; with such a dancer such as Lord Coxingworth.

“I may say that this has been a refreshing way to end my night” he smiled

“You are leaving?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Ashbourne. My mother is not feeling fine”

“Oh my, then you ought to leave immediately. Give her my regards and please send me a letter once you reach home. I pray she recovers fastly and hopefully, your journey home won't take too long"

"I shall" He bowed and you smiled. “And I shall see you once this matter is settled. I shall pay a visit next week, Miss Ashbourne. You look gorgeous tonight"

You thanked him and watched how he disappeared into the crowd. It was the last dance of the night and yet your feet did not hurt as much after the success and your mother approved with a single nod.

You made your way to the back of the ballroom where Eloise was waiting with Penelope. Minutes later to what it seemed between giggles and quick banter, you saw a shadow passing and it stood quite tall beside Eloise. Benedict.

“Ah sister; mother is looking for you; something about at least being seeing for five minutes beside a man”

“I must leave too, my mother is…” Penelope distractedly said “She is… bye”

You turned to see Benedict with his pristine and flattened down dressing robe “They left me in bed company”

He acted hurt “ow how sorry I am, they left me with a good-looking girl” he shrugged “It’s a matter of perspective” he stared at the green dress “You look quite beautiful. How was the night, is it true you danced with the Marquis of Ashdown?”

“I fought a war with his feet, that was not a dance”

“Let the poor kid be, you are a fine dancer, better than anyone I know. So? He is going to pursue you?

You smiled “Only if his governess allows him”

He snorted and made a burning sound “Good girl” he sigh “What about Lord Coxingworth?”

“Oh… I think it went better than Ashdown”

“Hmmm”

“He said he ought to see me next week”

“Did he?” He sniffed “I think then you have a suitor then”

“Far from it,” you said and looked around “Before the end of this night I must go into Lady Danbury’s library”

“Are you…” he smirked, “Sneaking and stealing yet another book?”

“She once said I could take advantage of her collection”

“yes, only if you are inside the house” he debated with a laugh

“And I am not?”

“But you will not. You’ll get the book and leave the house with it”

“And…” you stood quickly on your tips “if no one sees anything… no one has to know”

He smiled and shook his head but formed an O with his mouth when he saw how swiftly you moved away from your spot. The beads on your dress shifted with you, the curls on your back bounced at the pace and he, the only accomplice in such a furtive task, joined you.

“Perhaps it is better to go back, they might be expecting us”

“Oh nonsense,” you said with the thirst for that book you knew Lady Danbury had, your hand turned the knob and your eyes sparked at the dark of the room that held the shadows of all the books “Eureka”

Benedict stood behind you, a small smile on his face as you searched for the book.

His eyes, like a thief, looked at your curves, the ones the dress did not hide and tried but also sneakily -in the theme of the night- to capture a glance of your oh-so-fast-moving chest your mother thinks you have.

“What is the book?” he asked

“A collection of poetry, not known, written by I believe anonymous people”

“Huh, controversial. Have you read other compilations?"

“Not now but if this one is good, I will try to get a hold of more… unusual editions. This one has the most beautiful cover and I can't help to imagine what it's about"

"I see" he whispered, his voice a bit deeper as his eyes landed on your face

"Do you have a problem?" You turned around to see his eyes were not on the shelves

"No, no, not at all. Let us do something. Open the book on any page and read it out loud. Let us judge it, not by the cover but by one page and one page at all”

You smiled widely at the idea and nodded, you moved around to be in front of him, your left shoulder leaning against a bookshelf allowing yourself to feel more relaxed.

“Alright then…” you cleared your throat and questioned where you could split the book, the beginning, the middle or the end. As your long fingers traced the last page, you told yourself that knowing the ending might ruin the whole thing even if it’s a poetry book “Here” you blindly said and split the book “Let me…” you cleared your eyes amidst the dark room

"In halls of opulence, where high society reigns,

A love forbidden, amidst whispered refrains.

She, a maiden of humble birth, with grace and charm untold,

He, a nobleman of lineage, with wealth and power bold.

Their hearts entwined in secret, amidst societal divide,

Forbidden love's sweet agony, where passions dare to hide.

For in their world of privilege, where status reigns supreme,

Their love is but a whisper, in a world of stifled dreams.

Yet in the hush of moonlit nights, beneath the stars' soft gleam,

They steal away in shadows, where love's light doth beam.

For in their hearts' defiance, they find a love divine,

A bond that knows no boundaries, in a world of rigid line.”

Your eyes darted up to look at him, you didn't expect his eyes to be already on you. His eyes had a certain glint, an emotion you could not pinpoint and as you waited, he cleared his throat.

“That was such a heartfelt piece” he nodded

“Very sad,” you said “I wonder if this person wrote it while going through it or wrote it as a memory of what once was”

“Knowing this world we live in, the latter”

“I enjoyed it” You closed the book and smiled at the cover, you could see the outline of the letters, “I’ll keep it for a while”

“Only if you read some to me too, if I have shared this task I shall share the prize”

You giggled “What a prize, a poetry book”

“Time with you I would say,” he said very quickly in a hoarse voice that he didn’t know he could do

Your heart did a thing, it beat hard and quick but also slow and you felt it was going to be out of your chest.

He was not expecting an answer and so he said "Let's get out of here"

"Yes, let's"

Once outside the room and with the book hidden in your dress, Benedict looked both sides of the hallway and gave you the thumbs up and you both made a run for it, a run for the stairs and to the exit door.

And there you stood, with the cool air hitting your face, with a smile so bright Benedict had to squint his eyes, the laughter came, loud and uncontrollably.

"Miss Ashbourne" He said once the laugh died, the joy in his eyes were still present "and I called myself a bad influence once did I not?”

“I learnt from you, Benedict”

It was the sound of his name coming from your mouth that made him shiver. He didn’t know how or why he felt such a pull. Such desire and such attraction. Unequivocally you were beyond what a diamond could be, the face of an angel he confessed but the natural and free aura that you radiated since he had memory is what made him be there with you at most times.

He didn’t know how it happened but he found himself quite close to your figure, under the night sky, he could see the warm lights crashing against your right side and the darkness hiding the left one.

“What is the name of the book?”

He asked such a simple question but with so much passion that if you were not wise enough to understand the tone, you would have thought he felt compelled to have the book right now.

You blinked at the soft wave of his brandy breath and saw the eyes that stared down -because of the height- and how intrigued he looked.

“Entwined”

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #smut #fic #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton oneshot #benedict bridgerton x you #fanfiction #smut fanfiction #18+ only #18+ content #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton smut

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (X)

Chapter 10: Too Sweet

Hello!! Here is another chapter! This one is very fluffy!! (Surprising, I know) Also, some heavy make-out… let me remind you that this is not written for minors!

We are already halfway-through this fic, as it will be 20-chapters long!

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 1549

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

Fucking adorable, that was what you were…

As you looked at Andrew with a grin on your lips, expectant, excited, a tidal wave of affection washed over his heart. A warm, peaceful, affectionate feeling that made him giddy, created butterflies in his stomach, made his heart speed up and a dreamy smile form on his lips.

You were trying to get a peek inside his cupboard, to see his brand-new harvest of honey. He had promised you would get some to take home, and had prepared a little honeypot for you. He wasn’t sure why, but seeing you this excited for something as simple as this was turning his heart into a puddle.

“There you go, this one’s yours.”

He handed the small jar. It was nothing special. A plain glass jar filled with honey. You were grinning as you took it in your hands.

“Thank you!”

You rose to your tiptoes to drop a peck to his cheek, and he couldn’t help but blush as he hurried to close the cupboard.

“It’s nothing…”

“It’s your honey! Of course, it’s something! You’ve worked hard to make it.”

“To be fair, the bees are the ones doing all the work,” he dodged the compliment, scrubbing at his cheek in a nervous gesture, feeling his cheeks get warm.

“True,” you admitted in a giggle. “But even if that’s the case, you’re still doing more than I would.”

“Taking care of bees isn’t that hard, you could do it.”

“I don’t know… I’m a little scared at the idea of being surrounded by bees.”

“You’re wearing a suit, it’s alright. It’s perfectly safe. Besides, you’re not harming them, so they won’t harm you either. Perhaps one day, I could teach you. And you could make honey too!”

It would be our honey…

“Hmm… still… I’ll leave the making of the honey to you, and focus on the eating!”

You opened the jar, smelled the sweetness of the nectar inside. You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Smells so good.”

You dipped your finger inside, licked it clean. Andrew struggled to swallow, looking away, trying to control himself.

“It’s delicious! God, Andy! This is so good!”

But Andrew wasn’t looking at you. Instead, he was looking outside, at the rain falling on his garden, holding on the kitchen counter, trying to forget the thoughts that had come up in his mind, the sins he wanted to commit with you…

“You know what would be delicious? Some fruits! Some fruits with your honey would be delicious!”

You opened the cupboard, picked up a plate, and then you reached for the drawer and picked up a knife. Andrew washed an apple and handed it to you without a word. You had spent too much time in his house for this not to be natural. You in his kitchen, making snacks. In silence, he filled up a kettle, still unable to look at you but hiding it well.

You took some mugs from the cupboard above his sink, rising to your tiptoes to reach them. It made Andrew grow a tender smile.

And it was easy. Being there, doing something so insignificant and domestic in his house with you… like you belonged there. It was obvious, the way you moved in this space he called home, like it was yours more than his.

He could picture himself doing this every day with you. Letting you in the spaces that were most private to him, the ones that made him feel safe. You belonged there. You belonged in the warmth of a home he would call his…

“I’ll let you cut the apple, or else you will criticize what I’m doing. I’ll make tea instead,” you told him, a playful smile on your lips, bringing him back to earth.

He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t deny that you were right. So, he picked up the knife and cut the apple into slices, the way his mother had taught him years ago, in another kitchen, in another safe place he called home.

You chose your favourite tea, there was always a stache of it in his home. Your favourite biscuits too. Your favourite ice-cream. Your favourite book. Your favourite movie. Your shampoo and soap had been added recently, now that you stayed for a shower. But pieces of you had always been here, you had always been here…

You put the pieces in a bowl, added a little bit of honey, just enough to make the fruit sticky and sinfully sweet. You gave a happy wiggle when you ate the first piece, not waiting for Andrew to give you a fork, and instead, picking it up with your fingers, making them sticky as well.

“Delicious!” you complimented him, making his heart jump.

This afternoon was lovely. It was raining hard outside, the sky a mournful shade of grey; but it was warm inside Andrew’s home, and you were happy and smiling, and joking around, and life was good for as long as you were in it…

Andrew didn’t think as he bent down, capturing your lips with his. He barely registered his movements when he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close, a hand sprayed across your spine, the other holding firmly your waist. You let out a surprised sigh, and then you blinked your eyes closed, hands coming up to cradle his face.

You tasted of apple and honey, sweetness at its finest. Too sweet to be real…

Your lips were sticky with the juice of the fruit and the sugar of the honey. Andrew didn’t care. He didn’t mind either when your fingers ran down his neck to open the buttons of his shirt. He could feel the sugar on them too.

You broke free from his embrace, leaving him dizzy with your taste and your warmth against his body. He blinked down at you.

“Sorry, my hands are all sticky. Hang on.”

You washed the honey away, and Andrew waited impatiently next to you, opening and closing his fists, trying not to reach out, not to scare you away.

You were so beautiful…

“Better,” you smiled, showing your clean hands, and he smiled back at you without noticing.

God, he loved you so fucking much, and he couldn’t say it. But then again, he saw how your gaze softened, how your expression grew peaceful with tenderness. And he caught himself dreaming that this could be love, that you could feel the same.

It was stupid, perhaps, it was him forgetting about the major obstacle that was his career, and your fear of living a lonely life because of him. Still, as he looked at you then, he let himself believe for a second that one day, he could finally speak the words that rested for now on the tip of his tongue.

Still, your touch was soft when you took his hand in yours.

“Andy?”

He hummed, raising an eyebrow to encourage you to speak.

“Can we go to your bedroom now?”

You added mischief to your smile, it made him dizzy; thoroughly addicted to the sight too.

He gently pulled on your hand so you would follow him. You didn’t steal kisses until you were both standing in front of his large bed. And then your lips were back on his, you were freeing his hair from the messy bun he had been sporting. His hand slipped under your t-shirt and your jumper, spreading his fingers over your bare skin. Warm. Soft. Making his entire body burn with desire.

When his lips moved to your neck, you let out a moan, and he reckoned that this ought to be the sound of heaven, the perfect melody he had been looking for all his life.

“Can I be on top?” you asked in a tone made shaky by his fingers pulling on your bra.

“Whatever you want, honey,” Andrew mumbled into your skin, before attaching his lips to yours again.

You didn’t correct him, let him have the pet name. Perhaps your mind was as blurry as his while you kissed passionately, while your fingers finished to unbutton his shirt. The blink of an eye, and somehow you were shirtless, skin exposed to the air and to Andrew’s angry lips while you stumbled to reach his bed.

He lost his shirt before you gently pushed him on the bed, and then you were lying on top of him, and Andrew had to pinch himself to remember that this was real, no matter how many times he had lived this scene before.

You hovered over him, just a breath away, looking at him like you were admiring him…

“You’re so handsome, Andy…” you let out in a whisper, like a confession. It made his body slightly tremble.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You shook your head, and he caught himself thinking that this look in your eyes held more than infatuation or physical attraction. Something closer to adoration, the kind of gazes he aimed at you.

You blinked, eyes glimmering in the light made dim by the rain outside. Your voice was deeper when you spoke, almost hoarse, as if tightened with emotions.

“Andy… I lo…”

But you stopped, left him suspended to your words. You let out a shaky breath, and instead of speaking, merely kissed him again.

#hozier #the hoziest #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier series #fanfiction #writing #fanfic #series

[misshoneyimhome]

William chuckles as he sees the pair of panties shoved in your mouth as you’re on all fours. He traced the vibrator to your bare skin before he wrapped his belt around your neck and pulled slightly. “You wanted to be a fucking brat? There is what happens." You whine against the handcuffs, and he clicks his tongue in dismissal as you whine against the handcuffs. He steps back and watches you as you regain your breathe. Your eyes roll back in pleasure as you moan around the panties. The daddy kink with the innocent reader is in full effect

Oh fuck babe! 🥴🤭 Okay, so it seems I might have accidentally missed a few points here—please forgive me! 🙏🏼 But I just got so carried away with your idea, my mind sort of went on a roll 🤍

Having said that, I hope you still enjoy this next chapter 🌺 And yes, there's more dom!Willy on the horizon, considering the team's gearing up for the playoffs at this stage (no spoilers) 😉

Other requests combined; [going out][look at me]

Tropes & warnings; dom!Willy, public teasing, little help from the captain; Smut 18+; f masturbating, penetrative sex (p in v), cum inside, fingering, sex toys (vibrator/Magic Wand), light spanking, handcuffs, more penetrative sex (p in v), more cum inside;

Italic; sort of flashback

Word count; 5.3K

"Jag är din prinsessa, Willy... men jag är också din smutsiga lilla hora när du behöver mig." = I am your princess, Willy... but I'm also your dirty little whore when you need me to be.

“Jeg älskar deg, min skat,” = "I love you, my darling"

“Jeg älskar deg också,” = "I love you too"

「Inexperienced!reader x Willy」

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @Fortheloveofnylander @justwanderingbutneverlost

_

All good boys go to heaven - But bad boys bring heaven to you pt XVI I William Nylander 🖋️⚡️💦🌶️

If you thought the start of April was hectic, you couldn’t have braced yourself for the surprise halfway through the month when the Leafs were gearing up for the end of the regular season and the start of the playoffs.

Luckily, they had already secured their spot for the first round, but what you weren't ready for was the frenzy of the final games, which left your nerves and anxiety on edge. The other partners of the players were naturally beyond supportive, trying to help you navigate your very first season in the role of an NHL girlfriend, but it was far from easy.

Watching your boyfriend, William Nylander, hit the ice during the road trip for the final games, you often had to find solace in a good glass of wine. Especially since the Leafs suffered losses in the last four games.

And after each match, all you wanted was to fly out and wrap William in a comforting hug, reassuring him that everything would be alright. Yet, you settled for video calls with Pablo and Banksy on the side, as William always wanted to greet his beloved doodles.

Though, lately, perhaps the doodles had become more yours than his due to his busy schedule, yet you were grateful to have William's dog trainer step in when your own work demanded more time.

In short, everything seemed to be rather chaotic, and you knew you had to keep your mind intact to follow along. It's not that you didn't cherish the life you now shared with William, but suddenly you realised how your world had been turned upside down, thrown into a whirlwind of emotions and chaos.

You knew you loved William without a doubt. However, in moments when you needed to catch your breath and considering retreating to your own apartment, you couldn't help but reminisce about the slower, more relaxed times.

_ 

It hadn’t exactly been a love-at-first-sight scenario between you and William. At least, not explicitly.

You had been introduced through a mutual friend, and before you knew it, you found yourself among the partners of the Toronto Maple Leafs. And William had been nothing but a good friend from the start.

His calm and easy-going nature was simply what had initially drawn you in; enchanted by his laughter and captivated by his ocean blue eyes.

But what truly swept you off your feet was his caring and patient approach as you explored your sexual relationship together. As you’d come from a less adventurous past with a rather dull ex-boyfriend, William had gradually introduced you to a variety of sexual experiences - different positions, toys, locations, and more.

And you couldn't be happier that he did. Never in your short life had you imagined that a hockey player like William Nylander would be the one to guide you through such intimate experiences and ultimately form the most fulfilling romantic relationship you'd ever known.

Though no relationship was perfect, yours with William often came close. Sure, there were occasional arguments, usually stemming from jealousy on one side or the other. But in the grand scheme of things, they were nothing short of insignificant.

So, after finishing the call with William following the loss against the Tampa Bay Lightning, you retreated to the bedroom, where memories of the countless amazing moments you and William shared flooded your mind.

Resting under the duvet in your shared bedroom, you slowly slipped off your knickers, delicately tracing your fingers down to caress your inner thighs, imagining William's magical touch.

Though no touch could match his, while he was away, you couldn't resist the temptation to pleasure yourself while thinking of him. You even reached for your nightstand, retrieving the trusty Magic Wand that had helped you through previous times apart from him.

And as the buzzing sensation gently stimulated your clit, you fantasised about William and his incredible touch. You let your mind conjure up an image of him hovering over you, his pink lips meeting yours in a deep, passionate kiss. You imagined his muscular torso, his chest lightly covered in hair, pressing against your breasts, his rapid breath mingling with yours. His legs would be extending yours as he supported himself, his strong arms on either side of you, coupled with the sensation of his hardening member pressing against your core through his boxers.

It was an intoxicating fantasy as you felt the orgasm building within you, your lips parting as you gasped for air while the images played behind your closed eyelids.

You remembered the moments when William would make sweet, perhaps slightly rough, love to you. His face filled with pleasure as he moved his length within you, stimulating your walls with each motion. And as you recalled how he’d often reach his climax first, while he ensured to prolong your experience as he watched you lose yourself under his touch, it only brought you closer to your own climax back in the bedroom.

Especially after you became an official couple, William became incredibly attentive to your pleasure, including your behaviour when reaching climax. During sex, he was nothing but utterly drunk on love, riding high on endorphins as your bodies melted together, propelling you towards countless orgasms. Yet when the intensity became too much, you couldn't help but close your eyes as the rush overtook your mind.

However, William desired nothing more than to witness your pleasure first-hand. He wanted to see the effect he had on you, to deepen your connection even further. So, as he brought you to the brink of climax, he insisted you keep your gaze locked with his.

"Look at me, baby," he'd urge, his eyes seeking yours as he maintained his rhythm. "Your pussy feels so fucking good," he'd growl huskily, his sweat mingling with yours in the heat of passion.

Despite the overwhelming sensations, you sometimes found it hard to keep your eyes open, instinctively closing them as your cheeks flushed and your arousal intensified.

Yet, William wouldn't let you off so easily. He aimed to watch every moment as you neared climax, ensuring you felt nothing but pleasure under his touch. "Open your eyes, baby," he'd coax. "Look at me while I fuck you so good."

Even as William reached his own peak before you did, driven by the sweet sounds of your moans, he'd continue to thrust forcefully, watching intently as you approached your climax. And as your walls tightened around him, his words would only intensify. "Yes, baby, come for me, come" he'd encourage. "I want you to come on my dick. Yeah, like that, come for me..."

It was often rather overwhelming with William. And as your muscles clenched and the euphoria washed over you, he'd watch your body shake, playing with your breasts as you rode out the waves of pleasure. Even when he tried to kiss you deeply, the rush was too much to bear, and while panting for air, you struggled to meet his lips, still coming down from the high.

And just the mere memories of those occasions, had you moaned out William’s name as you reached your actual climax. With no William, just you and the vibrator, yet it was a wonderful orgasm. 

_

The time apart wasn't always easy, but you found a way to make it work. And as the team wrapped up their final match in Florida, the reality of the playoffs loomed ahead.

And that's when Captain John Tavares took a moment to remind his teammates to appreciate those at home who stood by them through thick and thin. And it was an encouragement William needed to hear, as he'd been so caught up in his game that he'd sort of unintentionally overlooked his new relationship.

"She's trying Willy, and you know it's not easy. Please, remember to be there for her as well," John had encouraged during a private moment with William.

"What do you mean? What can I do?" William asked, genuinely wanting to understand.

"Maybe take her out or something," the captain suggested. "Show her that you haven't forgotten your commitment."

"Oh, right," William nodded, realising he might have been more focused on hockey than on you lately.

"It's her first season here, and Aryne's mentioned, that y/n is worried she's not being supportive enough," William explained.

"What? That's not true, she's amazing," William quickly defended, knowing deep down how supportive you had been throughout the season, despite it being your first experience with the NHL.

"I know, I know. Just make sure she knows it," John replied with a soft smile, giving the Swede a supportive pat on the shoulder.

William wasn't always the perfect boyfriend, and he knew that. His career was his life, and he didn't always have the time and energy to be there for you as much as he wanted.

But you didn't hold it against him too much though. And you also understood that William had been single for a while and that this season had been primarily focused on his career and contract signing, along with showcasing his skills on the ice.

Yet, a part of you wished he'd remember the mental effort that was required from you to navigate this new world, especially considering you were still adjusting to the intense life of the NHL, despite being together for several months now. 

And while you received support from other partners and your family, they couldn't fully grasp the challenges you faced.

At the heart of it all, what mattered most was the connection between you and William.

However, Johnny's wake-up call swiftly reminded William of his role as a boyfriend, and he took it as an opportunity to do his best to shake off any nerves for the upcoming round one of the playoffs.

Though he was likely more excited than anxious, he couldn't ignore the daunting statistics of facing off against the Bruins. The Leafs hadn’t won any games against Boston and now they were to fae off against them in the first round of the playoffs.

In essence, the odds were stacked against them.

William tried to stay positive, focusing on his own skills and talents, despite the slight distraction of facing his long-time friend David Pastrňák. But ultimately, all he wanted was to unwind for the next day back at his condo, where he'd be reunited with you, his beloved girlfriend, and his dogs.

And to say you greeted him with open arms would be an understatement.

As soon as William arrived back home on Wednesday night-early Thursday morning, the two of you were swiftly swept up in each other's embrace. Despite his tiredness from the road trip, he wasted no time undressing you in the middle of the living room, his lips passionately locked with yours as his hands explored your body. Then with long eager strides he guided you onto his lap on the sofa, where you happily sank down onto his hard shaft.

The intensity of the moment was nothing but evident as you rode him, driven by the need for each other's touch. Moans filled the room as sweat glistened on your bodies, his hands firmly gripping your hips to guide your movements. Then in a swift motion, he flipped you over, thrusting deeply and forcefully, leading you to reach climax. And as your walls clenched tightly around his sensitive shaft, William followed suit and spilled his seed inside you.

It was quick and spontaneous sex, yet it overflowed with love and desire. Both of you had missed each other deeply, and the craving for each other's touch was nothing short of palpable. William hadn't been able to find release while on the road, with the team focused on games and training, so the sensation of being inside you, with your arms around him and your lips on his, felt almost heavenly like.

And while you had managed to climax with your vibrator a couple of times, it paled in comparison to having William beneath or on top of you, the rhythm of your bodies colliding as you both moaned in pleasure.

Moreover, finally, being back in his arms after a quick shared shower, as you were about to drift off to sleep, fulfilled one of your deepest desires. Especially as he whispered, "I love you, älskling," and "Thank you for being with me," your heart skipped a beat before you both fell into a deep, contented sleep.

_

The following day, after a few hours of practice before the big first game in Boston, William had tried to arrange for the two of you to go out for an early dinner, spurred on by the encouraging words from the team’s captain.

Despite you having to go to work, William then decided to play the role of prince charming, picking you up from the office in his Volvo carriage. And as you made your way towards his car in the car park, his jaw simply dropped at the sight of you. And you couldn't help but smirk as you stepped into the passenger seat, feeling like the princess he always called you. 

You had chosen a dress that was both classy enough for a fine restaurant and just naughty enough to turn William's mind wild. And he could barely keep his eyes on the road as he navigated through the bustling city.

Then finally arriving at the restaurant, William's hand naturally, almost per instinct, found its place on your waist as he escorted you inside. It wasn't overly fancy, nor was it a simple take-away joint; it was just right, perfectly fitting for the occasion.

Upon escorted to your seats in one of the corners of the restaurant by a rather good-looking hostess, William then pulled out a chair for you, showcasing his best gentlemanly skills, before taking a seat next to you at the square table. It was a moment of mutual admiration as you both simply enjoyed the simplicity of dating like any other couple.

And with the playoffs looming in your minds, you reminded yourselves to cherish this moment a little extra, knowing that the coming weeks would be more intense than anything you'd experienced before.

Fortunately, the night unfolded just as perfectly as William had hoped. Your laughter filled the air, mingling with the ambient sounds of the restaurant, as you both shared stories about everything except hockey. You regaled him with a funny anecdote from work, eliciting laughter from him in return, and it was nothing short of amazing.

And what truly had your mind spinning was how great your boyfriend looked. You had missed him dearly, and even though Pablo and Banksy had been wonderful companions, having William home, even just for one and a half day, awakened your primal instincts.

It was as if you just wanted to imprint yourself in his memory before he left again. Especially considering the rumours about the team hitting up clubs in Florida to celebrate the end of the season before returning to Toronto and gearing up for the trip to Boston.

Despite your best efforts to avoid reading too much into gossip on social media, someone had sent you a link to an article with a rather blurry photo that vaguely resembled William, seated with a girl in his lap in the dim lighting of a nightclub. But you brushed it aside; your trust in William remained steadfast, and no blurry photo from a crazy fan or journalist would shake that. 

Yet, the devil on your shoulder couldn't help but wanting to remind your boyfriend of who he belonged to. So, as you sat in the public space of the restaurant, casually discussing off-season plans, you couldn't resist letting your hand rest on William's thigh under the table.

William simply smiled at your touch, nothing out of the ordinary for you two. However, as another tall, brunette waitress approached your table, asking William if everything was satisfactory with a sweet and flirtatious smile, he couldn't help but chuckle as he felt your hand slide a little further up his thigh.

"Easy, babe..." William's voice took on a husky tone as the waitress left. "Don't be so needy." Though his words hinted at rejection, his dark chuckle and husky voice betrayed nothing but raw desire.

So naturally, you continued to let your hand explore further, keeping your eyes locked on him even as your shared dessert arrived at the table, which was one of course one of your favourites; panna cotta. And giving in to the devilish idea, you couldn't help but moan seductively as William romantically fed you a spoonful of the delicious dessert.

"Seriously, babe... you're turning me on here," William spoke softly under his breath as he offered you another bite, and you licked the creamy treat off your lips, gently gliding your hand further up to reach his crotch under the table.

"Sorry, can't help it, Willy... the dessert is just so good," you flashed him a smirk, feigning innocence, while biting your lower lip, sensing his need for release.

"Fuck, you're dirty... thought you were a perfect princess who could behave in public," his voice almost growled when you didn't remove your hand after the next bite.

Yet unable to resist the temptation to take the final step in your little game of seduction, you leaned in closer, whispering softly in his ear, "Jag är din prinsessa, Willy... men jag är också din smutsiga lilla hora när du behöver mig." (I am your princess, Willy... but I'm also your dirty little whore when you need me to be.)

What had gotten into you exactly, William had no idea. Perhaps it was the time apart that had triggered something within you, or maybe it was his romantic gesture that had sparked your other side. Regardless, he couldn't exactly complain.

With your seductive Swedish words, William could only retrieve the bill faster than he could skate. You had started the game, and now he was determined to finish it.

And so, during the ride home, William shifted the dynamics, letting his hand explore the inside of your thigh while maintaining his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed on your clit through the fabric of your lacy thong, eliciting a gasp and a moan from you, before sliding a finger inside your entrance.

But it wasn't all pleasure. William teased you, and you knew it, pumping his finger a few times before withdrawing, playing with your clit, and then inserting it once more, repeating the process.

"Don't come," he then commanded, his tone leaving no room for objection.

You knew you had played with fire during dinner, and that your actions would have consequences. Yet, as often was the case, you didn't care. This was a fundamental aspect of yours and William's relationship, a release from the demands of hockey where you both could give in to primal instincts.

And as you arrived in the condo carpark, William simply walked with long strides to your side of the door, where you expected him to simply open it for you, but to your surprise, he instead pulled you out with dominant force and pressed you against the car door. Then gripping your hair tightly, he growled in your ear, "You wanna act like a slut in public? Wanna grab at my dick under the table, act like a cock-starved brat?"

You could barely respond. His sudden dominance had your core already clenching and your breath catching. It was nothing short of electrifying. You and William were back in your playful game, the stress of hockey long forgotten.

And as he then dragged you towards the lift with his strong force, you couldn't help but whimper, trying to keep up with his pace. William knew exactly what game you had been playing all evening, and now it was time for you to face the consequences.

Of course, it was all consensual and fun, considering you had played this game a few times before. However, as he hoisted you over his shoulder and gave your ass a firm spank while carrying you into the condo and straight to the bedroom, he still made sure you were aligned with the rules.

"Safe words?" he quickly inquired firmly as he stood behind you, facing the bed.

"Yellow and blue," you replied softly, trying to control your breath as you prepared yourself for what was to come.

"See? Knew you could be a good princess..."

When William's voice turned dark and husky like in that moment, you knew you were in for a treat—or more likely, facing punishment for being naughty. His cool and cheerful demeanour was long replaced by dirty words, making it clear who was in charge.

And you knew exactly who dominated, especially when William simply ripped off your dress and chuckled as he admired your lacy underwear. "No need for that." His words were simple yet filled with raw desire. And as he effortlessly undressed you completely, you knew you had to embrace your inner submissive to please your master and obey his commands.

"On the mattress, baby—on all fours."

It was difficult not to smirk, though the dimmed lights of the bedroom helped conceal it somewhat. You knew it would only encourage William further. So, obeying his instructions, you positioned yourself on the bed on your hands and knees, with your buttocks completely exposed to him and your head facing the headboard.

The anticipation was palpable as William let you wait in position, closing the door to ensure you wouldn't be disturbed by Pablo and Banksy. And naturally, he took a moment to admire the vision before him, while slowly moving to the nightstand next to your bed to retrieve the trusty handcuffs you'd used a few times before. Then after securing your hands together, he gave your cheek a firm slap, eliciting a gasp mixed with a light moan.

"Mmm," William pondered his next move, his eyes studying you intently. "Can't have you making too much noise, now can we," he spoke rhetorically as he then retrieved your underwear and returned to you. "Open your mouth."

Once again, you simply obeyed, gazing up at him with pleading eyes as he placed your thong into your mouth, gently muffling the moans he was about to elicit.

Your body burned with desire as you watched his eyes darken with every passing moment. And as he moved away to undress behind you, arousal surged within you, the mere anticipation causing a rush of pleasure.

You knew William was creative when it came to sex, and in that moment, you simply couldn't predict his next move. It was only when you suddenly heard the buzzing noise behind you, you had an idea of what to expect. 

"Hmm... have you been pleasing yourself while I was away?" William inquired, his husky tone still lingering as he kneeled behind you, delicately tracing the wand up the inside of your thighs.

"Mmm..." you hummed into the fabric in your mouth, the vibrations stimulating your body as he teased your core, not quite touching, only tantalisingly close.

"Such a bad girl... just like tonight," he murmured, moving the toy slowly up the bare skin of your back before returning downwards to your core, which grew increasingly wet with each teasing pass. "You were being such a brat, baby... you know that."

It wasn't really a question, you knew that. Yet you couldn't help but respond with a moan as he pressed the toy against your folds, teasing your sensitive flesh before carefully reaching your clit, eliciting another muffled moan from you.

"You wanted to be a fucking brat?"

Even though it wasn't technically a question, you knew you had to respond. So, you gently nodded in agreement.

"Hmm, then this is what happens."

And with those words, William then guided the wand to press against your clit, causing you to moan loudly into the fabric of your underwear as the rush of stimulation coursed through your body. However, in his teasing mood, William swiftly withdrew the toy again, noticing how your hands clenched against the handcuffs.

"See? It's no fun to be fucking teased..."

Then, once more, he let the toy touch your sensitive spot, eliciting the same noises and reactions from you as before while the impending orgasm formed in your core, the ecstasy of pleasure causing your vision to blur as your mind soared.

But you didn't quite reach it yet. As he pulled away the wand once more, you simply heard William chuckle as he watched you before him. It was pure torture yet exhilarating at the same time. William had complete control over you and your body, and all you could do was surrender to his commands.

And when he noticed a drop of your arousal slowly trailing down your thigh, he knew he had you on edge.

"Are you coming already, baby?"

You could only gently shake your head, though you knew it was a futile gesture. You could almost feel William's smirk as he observed your anticipation, the drop of juice trailing down your skin. 

"Hmm, well... then maybe after being such a good girl, I should let you..."

William was thoroughly satisfied with his work, equally filled with devilish desire as you had been in the restaurant. Yet, he wanted the game to continue a little longer, despite the pre-cum dripping from his pulsating hard cock. So, he let the wand tease you a few more times, eliciting more muffled cries from you while your hands strained against the handcuffs.

But then, he heard a sound coming from your stuffed mouth, something that almost sounded like a word. So, he leaned over to remove it, just in case it was a safe word. But instead, it was something else.

"Please," you let out a soft cry, a tear of pleasure slowly trailing down your cheek. "Please fuck me, Willy."

And that kind of pleading, William couldn't resist. Though you were his naughty girl, a brat deserving of punishment, you were also the girl he loved deeply and wanted to make love to desperately, feeling his own need for release pressing on.

So, giving in to your desires, William pulled the wand away, took a strong hold of your body, and flipped you over onto your back. Still handcuffed, he leaned over your body, pinning your hands above your head by the chains with one hand, while holding the vibrator in his other hand and gently placing it onto your clit again.

"Oh, fuck yes!" you moaned loudly, your head instinctively rolling back as the rush took over, your legs starting to tremble while your toes curled, and your heels dug into the mattress.

It was pure overstimulation, and nothing less than mere seconds, William pushed you over the edge, and you let out a loud moan as euphoria flooded your mind.

It was pure bliss as he finally allowed you to reach your climax, and you could almost feel your cunt spraying your juices as he held the wand against your nerves.

Then removing the intense vibrations of the toy, William admired his handiwork of the mess he’d turned you into while allowing you to catch your breath. "See what happens when you’re a good girl, huh?" He grinned down at you as you slowly tried to calm from the high. "I knew you could be good…"

It was the praise that turned you on even more than his dominance. But what truly sent you into overdrive was feeling the tip of his member press against your entrance, slowly easing himself into your depths while maintaining his gaze on you.

"Look at me, baby," he then encouraged, urging you to open your eyes just as he used to. "So fucking hot when you come for me…"

It was just as perfect as all the other times when William let himself fill you up, finding a rhythm as he rocked his hips, his length easily gliding in and out of your core.

And you couldn’t suppress the moans escaping your lips. His shaft felt exquisite as it stimulated your walls, hitting your sensitive spot with every motion. And as William slowly picked up the pace of his thrusts, they gradually became fiercer and harder.

"Oh yes, fuck me, Willy…"

You had no control over your words at this point. The pleasure coursing through your body, mind, and soul had taken over completely. 

Then releasing his grip on the handcuffs, William kneeled back onto his calves, wrapping your legs around his hips as he kept on pounding into you. And while keeping your hands above your head as he always wanted, you let him fuck you hard and good, your breasts bouncing in rhythm with each thrust.

"Shit, baby, your pussy feels so good around my dick…" William growled deeply as he too felt himself nearing climax. And sensing the clenching of your muscles around him once more, he knew he wanted to push you both over the edge together. So, picking up his pace even more, he took hold of the magic wand, turned it on, and placed it onto your clit once more.

“Oooohhh!” 

You let out a louder moan this time, mixed with a cry, as you were nothing but overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations.

It was all too much. The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the room, coupled with the buzzing sound from the toy and your loud cries of pleasure. Your body had completely surrendered as ecstasy took over, and your mind was lost in a blissful haze.

And as William kept the vibrator on your bud of nerves while thrusting vigorously into you, you almost screamed out in pleasure as you reached your second orgasm, clenching around his cock, coming harder than you’ d done in a while.

"Mmm, yes, baby, open your eyes… look at me when you come on my dick…"William commanded huskily as he pounded harder and faster, aiming for his own climax. And though it wasn't easy, you tried your best to oblige, tears trailing from your eyes as he let out a deep grunt and released himself into you.

Tossing the toy aside, he almost collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing heavily as you came down from the euphoric state. No words were needed, only the sound of deep panting filled the air of the room as both of you tried to come back to reality. It had been so overstimulating that you needed minutes to regain your senses, William keeping his cock buried inside you for a little while longer as he let the final drops spill.

And finally regaining control of his breathing, William found the strength to reach and undo the cuffs around your wrists.

Both of you were filled with pure pleasure as he carefully withdrew himself and came to rest next to you. And when turning your heads towards each other, none of you could suppress the smiles on your lips before gently leaning in for a tender kiss.

Despite the intensity of the dominant playful sex, there was nothing but pure love between you. As always, as you both retreated to the bathroom to clean up, it was nothing short of gentle and soft. Each touch and caress as you soaped each other’s bodies in the shower was delicate, and the kisses you shared were slow and deliberate.

And as you tucked in under the covers, William couldn’t help but admire your beauty, unable to believe that you were truly his. Sure, he needed some guidance in relationships from time to time, but as he came to think of it, this was all he truly wanted— you by his side.

“Jeg älskar deg, min skat,” he softly whispered as he gently stroked the side of your face, his eyes never leaving yours as you laid on your sides and simply relished the tender moments before the chaos was to unfold.

“Jeg älskar deg också,” you whispered back before letting weariness take over.

#my asks #18+ #Inexperienced!reader x Willy #william nylander imagine #nhl smut #wn88 imagine #william nylander smut #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #SlutsforPresidentNylander

[natimiles]

Congrats on your milestone! For your event, may I request top of foot with Simeon, pre-relationship?

I'd like to also request GNC if possible.

Hiii, anon! Thanks! 🤍

Here’s our sweet angel and gn!reader. It turned out very different from what I first planned, IAUSEHASIUEHAS. I hope you like iiit! :3

Simeon + Top of the foot

Words: 580

Tags: pre-relationship; gn!reader; Simeon calls you “little lamb”.

You let out a low, thoughtful hum, catching Simeon’s attention. Both of you are in his bedroom, enjoying the tranquility of an afternoon free from classes as you read together. He leans against the headboard of his bed while you’re sprawled beside him, your feet next to his body. Though he can’t see your face as you lie on your stomach, he can imagine your confused expression, and he can’t help but smile.

“Everything alright, little lamb?”

“Hm?” You look over your shoulder to meet his eyes. “Ah, yes. Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb your reading. I just... don’t understand the characters in this book.”

“What have they done?” He closes his own book, his attention now solely on you.

“It’s more like what they haven’t done,” you frown, turning around to sit up and meet his celadon-blue eyes as you begin to explain the whole plot of the book. The angel hums and occasionally makes comments, but he mostly listens intently to every word you have to say. “And even after all this, they still haven’t said anything about their feelings to each other.”

“Perhaps there’s more to the story than what you can see for now,” he smiles, tilting his head to the side. “You still have some chapters left to finish the book, right?”

“Yes, but this is a romance. I thought they’d be together sooner, but they seem to grow farther apart with every passing chapter.”

He hums thoughtfully, “It might seem that way to you, but I think they’re growing closer in other aspects. From what you’ve told me, they trust each other with their lives, they have a strong friendship, and they deeply care for each other. Their connection goes beyond romance; it’s as if their very souls are bound together.”

His voice was gentle as always, but there was an undertone to it that made you wonder if he was speaking from personal experience. Your heartbeat quickened at the thought, and you commanded it to calm down before Simeon could hear it from across the bed.

“Oh, I didn’t think of it that way. I just thought... they should express their feelings, I don’t know…” You look back down at the book in your hands, averting your gaze from his. It’s not like you can say much either, never having told Simeon about your own feelings for him.

“They can express their feelings in other ways than just saying ‘I love you’.” Simeon puts his book down on the mattress and takes hold of your foot beside him.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you smile, but it falters when he brings your foot to his lips. You had assumed he would just massage it like he does sometimes, and you let out a surprised noise.

“I’m always here to listen and help you,” he murmurs against your skin, flashing that tender smile you love so much, and then places a kiss on the top of your foot.

“Thank you,” your voice is low, and you fear your heart might beat out of your chest from how loud and fast it is.

“Just keep this conversation in mind. Sometimes you can demonstrate love in other ways.” 

Your eyes widen as you feel your cheeks warm up, then he grabs your other foot and places a kiss on top of it too. Simeon just keeps smiling at you, wondering when you will notice his intentions. Perhaps he should find more obvious ways to show his feelings.

Beneath The Milky Twilight ♥ Event Masterlist

#beneath the milky twilight event #💌 anon #obey me #obey me writings #obey me scenarios #obey me fanfics #obey me simeon #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me simeon x reader

[training4theapocalypse]

Finders Keepers Ch 20. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (no smut)

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: Minor character deaths, violence

Summary: The final battle of Hogwarts

A/N: The last chapter 😢 an epilogue is on the way. This has been a blast. Thank you for reading. ❤️

Masterlist

Chapter 20: Avada Kedavra

The courtyard is eerily quiet when you and McLaggen skid to an abrupt halt on the rubble. A long streak of blood is painted across the cobblestone. And even though the thought of what caused it turns your stomach, instantly your mind begins playing it out. A faceless Death Eater blasted across the cloister. Or maybe it was a student dragging themselves away from the fighting. Or perhaps it’s the evidence of someone being tenderly carried off to somewhere safer. Assuming there’s anywhere safe left.

“Where is everyone?” The question, more to yourself than McLaggen, hangs in the chilled night air, icy on your skin after the pitch's fiery chaos. He holds one of the now-dilapidated oak front doors open and crumbling mortar silently dusts your heads and shoulders as you pass through the threshold. From a distance, you spot a familiar figure, carrying someone over one shoulder as they walk across the Entrance Hall. 

“Wood?” calls McLaggen.

At least one of your group is still alive. 

Oliver Wood stops in his tracks and turns, his face solemn. The realisation that the body he carries is dead and not simply injured hits you with sickening force. A young boy, blonde and no older than sixteen, hangs limp in his grasp.

“Colin Creevey,” says Wood sadly, in answer to the unasked question on the tip of your tongue. “He must have snuck back in through the Hog’s Head passageway to fight. He was only a kid.”

“Here, let me help,” says McLaggen. 

“It’s alright, mate - he’s -” Wood swallows with difficulty, the sentiment choking in his throat. “He’s only a wee thing.”

“Where - where are the others?” You’re surprised when your voice too is hoarse, barely a whisper. “Did you all get back to the castle alright?”

“We did,” says Wood as you and McLaggen fall into step with him, walking back towards the Great Hall. “But once we got back it was pandemonium. We were split up. I think the girls are in the Great Hall but some of the lads and I have been busy out here - helping carry bodies back and hoping that we don’t see anyone we know.”

The lads. You breathe a sigh of relief because it means Carmichael, Davies and Krum are all right too.

“We’ll be fine,” says McLaggen determinedly. “We’re all good fighters. Not kids like Colin -”

Wood shakes his head. “It’s not just kids like Colin - members of the Order of the Phoenix are dead. You remember Professor Lupin? He’s dead. And Fred Weasley.”

“Fred Weasley?” McLaggen halts. “Back when we were in the D.A. he was one of the best.” He says it matter-of-factly like Wood must be mistaken. 

“Gone,” says Wood with a sniff. “There were at least twenty bodies when I last left the Great Hall. And we keep finding more.” 

A heavy silence accompanies you into the Great Hall, where the reality of war is laid bare. The sky above the enchanted ceiling is pitch black. There’s not a single star in the sky visible. Dark clouds loom so claustrophobically close it’s a wonder there’s any air in the hall at all. Dozens of the fallen are lined up along the centre of the room. Some with crying families at their side, and some, you realise with a sinking feeling, are completely alone. 

Your eyes scour the room searching for your own loved ones. At this side of the row of bodies nearest you, there’s a crowd that can only be Fred Weasley’s family. Relief washes over you as you spot Angelina, at the edge of the group, sobbing on Alicia’s shoulder.

Another two who are still alive.

But your relief is short-lived when you see only Leanne and Katie at the far end of the hall, crowded around someone on the floor. 

Panic makes the hair on your arm rise. 

You break into a run, heart pounding, as you pass by too many bodies to count, each step fuelled by a mix of hope and dread. Leanne and Katie look up at your arrival, still holding each other, tears streaking down their faces. 

Cho is kneeling on the floor, holding the lifeless hand of a girl. She has the same long, wavy, auburn hair as Marietta. But it can’t be Marietta. Eddie isn’t here. And besides, she’s covered in dust, with pieces of rubble strewn in her hair. Marietta was always fussy about her appearance. She wouldn’t be caught dead looking like this.

McLaggen catches up with you and stops dead, momentarily stunned by the scene before him. “Fuck… Marietta.” His whisper hits you like a slowing charm.

“That’s not - it’s not -” Your legs feel like lead as you take a step closer. “I don’t think it’s Marietta - I mean, her face is…” That’s not Marietta’s face. Where are her scars? You sink to your knees across from Cho to get a closer look at the girl’s face. If you look hard enough, maybe it won’t be true. You’ll find some difference. A freckle or a piercing that proves this isn’t Marietta. 

“The curse must have died with her,” Cho murmurs, her voice quiet with grief as a tear drips onto Marietta’s serene, unblemished face. 

“She’s so beautiful,” sobs Leanne. “I mean - not that she wasn’t before -“

Fuck.

The truth hits hard. Undeniable. Raw.

It is her. 

“She was beautiful,” you agree, your voice breaking as a surge of memories overwhelms you, letting the tears flow unguarded. “Before the curse, when she had the curse and - and after.”

After. You never thought there would be a time after Marietta. Ever since your first day at Hogwarts, Marietta Edgecombe was there. After the sorting ceremony, you found yourself sitting across from her at the Ravenclaw table. You still remember the way she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and whispered something that made Cho giggle when Professor Dumbledore stood up to give his beginning-of-term speech. And it was at that point she had first seemed so different to you then. She loved gossip and fashion and makeup and boys - the two of you never really saw eye to eye. Mostly because you insisted you ‘weren’t like other girls’. 

But Marietta eventually showed you that you weren’t so different to other girls after all. And that other girls had their own interests just like you. It took longer than you’d like to admit to figure out that liking flying instead of Transfiguration didn’t make you superior. And so, Marietta transfigured your dress for Slughorn’s party. And you taught her how to fly a broom well enough to go on a dangerous mission to Azkaban. 

You suppose, if you let yourself think about the sad truth of it, her scars were probably the reason why she was so good at Transfiguration. She had spent a long time when you were still at Hogwarts, in the dormitory mirror with her wand pointed at her face, trying to rid herself of the scars that spelt ‘SNEAK’ across her cheeks and nose.

“How did she…?” The question dies in your throat as you look at Cho, not sure if you're ready to hear the answer. But she shakes her head. She doesn’t know. “I mean, where did you find her? And where’s Carmichael? Wasn’t he with her?” Eddie would know what had happened. “Does he even know she’s…?”

“We don’t have any answers,” says Katie not unkindly but it’s clear that your incessant questioning isn’t helping when they’re just as lost as you.

“Wood said that the guys were helping with the bodies,” McLaggen reminds you. “Maybe they’ll know more. They’ll be back in a… oh, fuck.”

McLaggen’s voice trails off and you look up to see why. 

Krum and Davies walk along the length of the hall, carrying a body. Krum holding under the arms and Davies carrying the legs. As they move, Krum clenches his jaw and Davies stares straight ahead solemnly.

“Nonononono…” you whimper, getting to your feet to get out of the way so that they can set the body down next to Marietta. Your hands reach for McLaggen’s and his find you, neither of you daring to take your eyes off of the body being carried towards you as you grasp at each other’s forearms for something - anything - to cling onto. 

Krum and Davies set the lifeless figure down and step out of the way. Nobody says anything for a long time as you stare down at them.

The echo of a mischievous smile is still etched on Eddie Carmichael’s face, even in death. You half expect his eyes to fly open. “Only winding you up, mucker,” he’d say, sitting upright and dusting himself off. And you’d roll your eyes and slap his arm for worrying you so. For letting the practical joke play out too long.

It’s not a joke. No matter how much you want it to be.

Carmichael. 

Your last shred of hope turns to dust. Even in Azkaban, Carmichael was a vial of Awakening Potion - the jolt of energy you needed to turn the tide in the depths of your despair. He almost made Azkaban feel like a game. Reminded you that being locked up was just a temporary situation - something that would pass. But this? This is permanent. 

“Where - where did you find him?” asks McLaggen. His voice is thick, barely recognisable.

Davies clears his throat. “Near the staircase behind the tapestry on the sixth floor. Longbottom said it was where he found Marietta.”

They were together.

McLaggen winces at Davies’ words and shuts his eyes momentarily, unable to bring himself to look at the lifeless figures of Marietta Edgecombe and Eddie Carmichael. You, on the other hand, can’t look away. 

The dust coating their faces makes them look almost blue-tinged. The remnants of an explosion, perhaps? The broken bits of rubble are still stuck in Marietta’s hair. Trembling slightly, you crouch down to try to disentangle them with your fingers, careful not to pull at her scalp. 

It’s no good. 

While you’ve never had an eye for Transfiguration like Marietta, you extract McLaggen’s dad’s wand from your pocket and press it gently at the pieces of rubble and one by one, transfigure them into tiny, blue forget-me-nots. 

To an onlooker, she might seem merely asleep, her hair adorned with forget-me-nots as if chosen by her own hand on a sunny day at Seafarer's Beacon. This small touch of beauty, reminiscent of the way her paper snowflakes once danced around the lighthouse stairwell or the summer wreath she hung on the front door just yesterday, captures the essence of Marietta's spirit. 

She always had an eye for making this world a little more beautiful.

Cho waves her wand in a complicated figure of eight and a wreath of the same forget-me-nots flourishes into existence. She places it silently at Eddie’s head before the two of you stand up and join the rest in quiet mourning. 

“You okay?” you whisper to McLaggen, noticing his ashen face. His brow furrows as if silently debating something internally. 

“How long have we got before the fighting starts again?” he asks the group, breaking the silence, his words piercing the heavy air.

“Not long I reckon,” says Davies.

McLaggen’s demeanour shifts, a firm look of determination on his face. “Potter needs to hand himself in… Where is he?” He looks around the room with an intense, measured sort of calm that you’ve only witnessed once before. When he stood up in the Black Dragon and asked Marcus Flint to step outside. “I’ll hand him over myself if I have to.” 

“Vot is this?” asks Krum as McLaggen makes to leave.

“Not gonna happen,” Davies tells McLaggen firmly, stepping in front of him.

“If he’d just handed himself over right at the start then Ed and Marietta would still be alive.” McLaggen tries to push past but Davies moves again.

“Handing over Potter isn’t going to bring them back -” says Davies.

For the first time, McLaggen raises his voice, drawing the attention of mourners in the hall. “How many more of us are going to have to die for him?!”

“Cormac -” you start and reach for his hand. “Marietta and Carmichael wouldn’t have wanted us to turn him in.”

“We don’t know what they’d have wanted,” he says bitterly and your own face screws up in anguish, fighting tears and unable to find the words to argue with him. 

But before anyone else can argue with him an amplified voice causes the noise in the Great Hall to halt into momentary silence.

“Harry Potter is dead!” 

The last word bounces around the stone walls. Dead. Dead. Dead.

There’s murmuring and hushing as You-Know-Who’s disembodied voice calls every survivor to attention. Everyone looks skywards as if it’ll make the words clearer. Make them make sense.

“He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him,” the voice continues. 

You’d be the first to admit you’re not Potter’s biggest fan but from everything you’ve heard about it, you know he has the same selfless, noble streak that McLaggen and the rest of your Gryffindor friends have - and you can’t imagine any of them running away to save themselves. You furrow your eyebrows together and look at Katie - she knows Potter best. As expected, she mirrors your thoughts with a firm shake of her head.

“He wouldn’t -” Katie starts, but the voice cuts her off.

“We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and The Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered. As will every member of their family.” 

The seven of you gather close as you hold your breath waiting to hear what will happen to you.

“Come out of the castle now. Kneel before me and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brother and sisters will live and be forgiven and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

McLaggen shakes his head. “It - it can’t all have been for nothing. Breaking them all out of Azkaban - it - it’s just can’t.”

“He’s lying. Harry’s not - he’s not dead,” says Cho with an air of trying to convince herself that it’s the truth. 

You look over to where Fred Weasley’s body lies and see that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger are looking around frantically for the missing member of their trio. The pair stumble into a run, leaving the Great Hall and the rest of the survivors begin following them. 

If Harry Potter isn’t dead then why are his two best friends panicking?

You stay rooted to the spot. “Look, we can’t go out there. No matter what You-Know-Who said about sparing us - Cerys told me that Muggleborns and traitors will be killed.”

“Well, we’re not going out there to surrender,” says McLaggen. “We’re going out there to fight.”

Everyone breaks into squabbling.

“They’re going to kill us,” you insist, feeling helpless as you point out the impending death sentence.

“We can’t just stay in here,” says Katie.

“Angelina and Alicia are going,” points out Leanne.

You feel like you’re going mad. Desperation grips you as you beg them to understand. “A Death Eater told me herself that they’re going to execute the Muggleborns and force purebloods into Death Eater families.”

Davies finally chimes in, siding with caution. “I agree with Keeps. They’ll slaughter us all.”

“Not if I kill him first,” says McLaggen, straightening up but his change in demeanour makes your blood run cold.

“Kill who?” asks Cho. “You’re not talking about killing You-Know-Who, are you?”

McLaggen pauses, his gaze fixed on the distant double doors. When he speaks, his voice is clear, and full of resolve. “Not You-Know-Who. Voldemort.” 

The use of the taboo name is heavy in the air for a split second as a silent shock ripples through the group. McLaggen begins to march forward, his steps deliberate, pulling the rest of you from your stupor as you scramble to keep pace, murmurs of disbelief echoing behind him.

Wait - what?

He follows the direction of the crowd leaving the Great Hall.

“Cormac - wait - no,” you panic, pulling on his arm but he keeps walking as you practically jog to keep up with his long strides. “Cormac?” 

“McLaggen, what are you playing at, mate?” Davies too tries to get Cormac’s attention while you march.

McLaggen’s eyes darken, a flash of the recent pain  “No, we end this. I kill Voldemort. If I finish him off, Marietta and Eddie won’t have died for nothing…” 

“No, Cormac -” 

“I think ve need a plan,” Krum says looking slightly wary.

“There’s no time for a plan. All I need is one shot. One clear shot,” he says, staring ahead defiantly as you join the back of the moving crowd. 

“Cormac McLaggen, will you listen to me?!” Your voice is unusually shrill, half-choked with fear and desperation, as you plant yourself firmly in his path, forcing him to confront you. “You can’t just ‘take a shot’ at him. There’ll be protective enchantments. And even if by some miracle you breach those, it’ll be as good as suicide.”

Cormac halts and looks down into your eyes sadly. “You said it yourself - we’re all dead anyway. To them, we’re nothing but a bunch of traitors and Muggleborns.”

“I should be the one to do it, then,” you plead. “You’re from a pureblood family. You might still have a chance.” He shakes his head, dismissing the idea and you flare up. “And why not? I’m just as capable as you.”

“You are capable,” he insists. “But I should be the one to do it.”

“Why?” demands Cho, her voice sharp.

“I’m done for when they find out I killed the Minister for Magic’s daughter.” 

“And they’ll let the rest of us walk free?” asks Cho rhetorically. “Umbridge has been looking for us since all this started. If she’s anything to do with the new regime - she’ll make sure that we’re first to go. She’ll probably - she’ll probably frame us for Marietta���s death.” The idea leaves a bitter scowl on her face. Of course, Umbridge would. What a sympathetic story it’d make too. Marietta Edgecombe - Umbridge’s secretary. Kidnapped by the D.A. and killed in battle. 

“As much as I don’t like the idea of going out there without a plan, we’re running out of time and there’s nowhere else left to go,” says Davies resignedly as the seven of you look beyond the double doors at the courtyard. “So if any of us get the chance we should take it.”

“Exactly,” says Krum. “Ve train together, ve fight together.”

“I say if anyone gets close enough to You-Know - I mean - Voldemort, we do it. The Killing Curse,” says Katie.

Leanne nods. “I agree.”

You and McLaggen exchange a determined look. One last mission. Together.

“Alright,” McLaggen says, addressing everyone with a confidence reminiscent of the sort you usually have when rousing your Quidditch team. “Alright. Let’s do this. Let’s kill Voldemort.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

The remnants of Dumbledore’s Army huddle together in the devastated courtyard. 

Harry Potter is dead.

The grim truth of it is laid bare for everyone to see in the slowly lightening darkness that precedes the dawn as you gaze at his body lying limp in Hagrid’s arms as he sobs.

The lump in your throat isn’t so much for Potter as for what he represented, what his death means for you and your friends. Marietta is dead. Carmichael is dead. You and the rest of the D.A. will probably join them soon. If McLaggen isn’t executed he’ll be married off to some other Death Eater. You hold onto McLaggen’s hand tight, barely listening to Voldemort addressing the crowd as you instead silently count each second your hand is in his before you’re inevitably separated. 

You watch as Hagrid is instructed to place Potter on the ground at his feet.

Voldemort paces in front of the crowd, his giant snake wrapped around his shoulders as he points to Potter’s dead body. “He was nothing - ever - but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him.”

“He beat you!” yells Ron Wealsey, a few places down to your left. You try to shrink back, away from the attention he’s bringing to your group but McLaggen holds fast - the same look of defiance painted on his face as is on Weasley’s. 

To your horror, McLaggen shouts, “Your Death Eaters were losing!” Members of the D.A. and several others in the crowd cry out in dissent too. 

“Cormac,” you plead. The idea of any of you breaking through the void between the survivors and Death Eaters to aim a Killing Curse at Voldemort seems like a childish fantasy now that you’re out here, facing him. You just want to slip away. The last thing you want is for any of the D.A. to be made a humiliating example of. You look at the army facing you. They outnumber you by at least five to one. You’re starting to realise that the best you can hope for is a quick death. “Please don’t draw attention to yourself.”

There’s a bang and a flash of light and you flinch when Voldemort silences the crowd.

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds. Killed while trying to save himself -”

But Voldemort’s voice breaks off when you’re jostled to the side as Neville Longbottom breaks through the clutch of D.A. members and charges at him. Clearly, your group weren’t the only ones who planned to take a shot at Voldemort to end this once and for all. There are more bangs and flashes when Neville is disarmed and knocked to the ground and another silencing charm is cast over the crowd.

“And who is this? Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”

Just as you were afraid of. The first dissenter to be made an example of. You clutch onto McLaggen as Bellatrix Lestrange catches Neville’s wand and taunts him. Neville eventually gets to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man's-land between the Hogwarts survivors and the Death Eaters. 

“Neville Longbottom… But you are a pureblood aren’t you, my brave boy?”

“So what if I am?” he spits back.

“You show spirit and bravery. And you come of noble stock. You will make a valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over!” shouts Neville before turning and raising his fist in the direction of the survivors. “Dumbledore’s Army!”

The silencing charm breaks and your friends jeer at Voldemort in response. 

Your own voice is lost in your throat.

“Very well. Are there any more purebloods who, like Neville, will refuse to join my Death Eaters?”

“You’re damn right!” calls McLaggen. “Like hell, we’ll join you!”

You want to clap your hand over his big fat mouth but before you can other survivors join in the yelling.

“Yeah!” echoes Ron Weasley. “We’d rather die!”

“Ah, but you misunderstand me,” replies You-Know-Who in his snakelike whisper. “Too much magical blood has been spilt already and you are valuable. Pureblood families are dying out. Extinguished by those who choose to mate with Mudbloods and muggles.”

McLaggen lets go of your hand and slips his hand into his pocket, finding his wand.

“Don’t!” You hiss through your teeth, pulling at his arm.

McLaggen ignores you and stares straight ahead, looking at Voldemort defiantly. “And so what if we are? Being pureblooded doesn’t mean anything!”

“Another like Neville Longbottom who refuses to join my Death Eaters?” asks Voldemort, looking directly at McLaggen amongst the collection of D.A. members and the remaining Gryffindor students. “Come forward, unless you are afraid that your Mudblood sympathies have made you weak.”

McLaggen moves his arm so that his wand is hidden behind his back and takes a step forward.

“No! No, stop! Cormac!” You don’t bother hushing your voice this time as you realise he’s actually about to stand beside Neville. You cling onto him frantically with all your might, begging him not to step forward. But you’re not the only one shrieking. 

“Ron!” You look over to see Granger, attempting to pull Ron Weasley back too.

“Come now! Come!” laughs Voldemort. “Don’t be shy. Come forward and I’ll show you just how useful those from noble bloodlines will be in the new world.”

“Cormac!” you sob, pulling his arm so tightly that you think you might rip his arm from his socket. He takes another two steps and your feet slide on the uneven rubble underfoot. With a solemn look, he places his hand over yours and eases them off his arm. You look desperately over at Granger and she too has had her grip wrenched free from Weasley. For just a second, the two of you lock eyes in helpless, shared understanding.

You let go of Cormac and almost fall to your knees when he and Weasley join Longbottom but before you collapse, Cho and Krum catch under your arms, stopping you from crumbling as you try to remember how to breathe again.

Voldemort's voice cuts through the tense air. "Those of you who stand before me refuse to acknowledge the way things are now," he declares, his gaze sweeping over the brave three standing in defiance. “You may not become Death Eaters… but your children will.”

A murmur ripples through the crowd, a mix of fear and outrage simmering among the gathered survivors. Voldemort turns to face his supporters. “Now, where is the Minister for Magic? Thicknesse?” Pius Thicknesse steps forward, his long, dark hair danker than you remember it from when you first met him last summer. "Have your daughter bring forth the girls," he commands, his voice echoing ominously across the courtyard. "Let these ancient and noble pureblood families be joined as one."

Thicknesse’s bloodshot eyes dart around edgily. “My Lord - I - I cannot find her.”

“You won’t,” says McLaggen and you exhale a weak groan. The last shred of hope you had that McLaggen might make it through this act of defiance disapparates in an instant. “She’s dead. I made sure of it.”

Thicknesse, fueled by a mix of grief and rage, attempts to barrel through Voldemort’s supporters, his eyes set on McLaggen with a vengeance. But before Thicknesse can reach him, Voldemort, with a flick of his wand, halts Thicknesse's charge.

Voldemort's gaze lands on McLaggen, his curiosity piqued. "And who is this?" he inquires, his voice cold yet amused, as he looks from the distraught Thicknesse to the defiant McLaggen.

"That's the boy she wanted. The one she - my Cerys - asked to be promised to, my lord," Thicknesse says, raising a quivering finger at McLaggen.

Voldemort laughs. A high-pitched, chilling laugh. "I can see why - he's a handsome one," he remarks as he steps towards McLaggen who remains steadfast. Unflinching. "No matter," Voldemort continues, turning away from McLaggen and dismissing the matter with a wave of his hand as if Cerys’s death were nothing more than a trivial inconvenience. "There are plenty of suitable matches from other families willing to produce heirs -"

"I'll kill the next one too,” says McLaggen and Neville and Weasley look at him in agreement. “We all will. If you force any of us into pure-blood marriages against our will, we'll make sure that the bloodlines end with us."

Voldemort pauses and turns around slowly as if hardly daring to believe that McLaggen has spoken out so openly. “Too much magical blood has been wasted already tonight... although perhaps I can make an exception," he muses, his gaze still fixed on McLaggen. "Your bloodline, at least, will end with you."

"And so will yours," says McLaggen. And even though you can’t see his face, you can tell he’s wearing that confident, intense look that so often precedes him doing the impossible. 

And just for a second, you think it’s happening. Against the odds, McLaggen, who has saved your skin countless times now, is about to save everyone for good. McLaggen. The Keeper. About to make the save that defines the wizarding world as you know it.

But before McLaggen can even extend his wand, Voldemort, with a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes, utters, "Avada Kedavra!" 

McLaggen’s body falls to the ground, lifeless, just as quickly and easily as the falling Quidditch stands on the pitch.

Your stomach lurches. You open your mouth not sure whether you’re about to scream or vomit. The sound that escapes your lips is torn from the depths of your soul, as you witness the love of your life crumple in a heap on the rubble. 

Your heart shatters beyond repair. 

Each cracked piece is a kiss, a memory, a dream for your future, now lost forever.

“No!” come the shocked cries of Katie and Leanne. 

“Cormac…” sobs Cho, still holding you up, though her tight grip falters in shock.

“I’ll kill him myself,” says Krum, letting you go and attempting to push past to get to Voldemort.

But it’s Neville who is closest. The jinx holding him breaks and he charges forward unarmed and wandless toward Voldemort who reacts quicker once more and halts him with a body-bind curse.

As one, the Death Eaters raise their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay.

“Gryffindor arrogance!” screams Voldemort. “But no more.” Voldemort points his wand to the sky and everyone except you looks up. Your eyes are still fixed on McLaggen’s body on the stone floor as Voldemort’s snake slithers between McLaggen and Potter menacingly. “There will be no more sorting at Hogwarts school. There will be no more houses. The emblem, shield and colours of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?”

McLaggen is only metres away but your heart thuds in your chest watching the snake slither along the courtyard. Feeling faint again, you remember how you huddled around the kitchen table in the lighthouse listening to reports on Potterwatch about how the snake carries out Voldemort’s bidding. The rumours that Voldemort feeds people he’s killed to the snake. 

The thought is so horrifying, so all-consuming, that you barely notice Voldemort catching the Sorting Hat from mid-air and forcing it onto Neville’s head. 

It’s only when Neville’s scream splits the dawn that you look up and watch in horror as Neville rooted in place, writhes on the spot wearing the burning hat on his head.

And then, so many things happen simultaneously that you feel your head spinning.

There’s uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounds like hundreds of people swarm over the out-of-sight walls, yelling at the top of their lungs as they charge towards the courtyard. Residents of Hogsmeade. Parents of students. Joining the fray.

Then come hooves and the twangs of bows. And arrows suddenly land amongst the Death Eaters on Voldemort’s side who break rank and scramble, shouting in surprise as the centaurs continue to attack.

Cormac McLaggen’s death has given everyone a second wind. The fact that it’s what he’d have wanted is of no comfort to you.

In one swift, fluid motion Neville breaks free of the body-bind curse upon him, the hat falls off of him and he draws from its depths something long and silver with a glittering rubied hand. The slash of the silver blade is silent amongst the pandemonium of the crowd and stampeding centaurs yet it draws every eye, including your own. 

With a single stroke, Neville slices off the head of the great snake’s head which spins high into the air. And Voldemort’s mouth is open in a scream of fury that nobody can hear. The snake’s body thuds to the ground.

You panic, as fighting resumes and people run in all directions. You can’t let them trample McLaggen’s. Or Potter’s if you can help it.

“Harry? Where’s Harry?!” bellows Hagrid, above the almighty chaotic racket.

A jet of light whizzes over your heads and you duck. You keep low as you sprint over to McLaggen’s body, determined to move his body away from the fighting. 

McLaggen lies alone. Potter is gone.

You panic some more. This time panicking that Potter’s body has been taken by the Death Eaters to be paraded like some kind of trophy. You won’t let that happen to McLaggen. 

You scramble over to him and hook your arms under his, pulling his dead weight towards a corner of the courtyard. Even though a wand is in your pocket, you don’t even think about pulling it out and joining the fight. You don’t even think about casting a shied charm. All you think about is getting McLaggen’s body out of the way. 

But you needn’t worry. Perhaps everyone is too busy fighting to pay attention to the girl with the burned clothes and the tear-streaked face heaving a corpse into a corner. From your peripheral senses, you can tell even as you drag him away, that the fighting in the courtyard is thinning out as the fighters run into the caste. 

Your resolve hardens. You’ll rejoin them soon, now Cormac’s body is shielded behind what’s left of this wall. You just need a second. 

A second to say goodbye.

You collapse in a pile beside him in the empty courtyard and press the heels of your palms into your eyes, stemming the tears. You can’t bring yourself to look at his face, knowing that the green eyes under his closed lids will never see yours again.

“What a stupid plan,” you choke, wondering aloud as you wipe your eyes. “Thinking we could take on Voldemort. And then you actually tried it…”

You try to steady your breathing, feeling your hot breath stick to your grimy palms as you cover your face. The humidity of your own air makes your stomach twist. It brings back memories of laughing under the duvet cover in Seafarer’s Beacon, face to face with McLaggen, intensely close as your eyes roamed over that trademark arrogant smirk on his face,

“You bloody arrogant git,” you sniff, the words a mix of endearment and despair, a tribute to the man who dared to challenge the darkness with his unyielding self-assurance.

Then, the faintest movement - a murmur so soft it might be mistaken for the wind.

“I’m dead and you’re still calling me a git?” 

Your eyes snap open, heart caught between hope and disbelief. The world tilts, reality warping at the edges as you stare at McLaggen. Solid, unmistakably alive, his presence defies every certainty that death had claimed him. "McLaggen?" Your voice is a tremble, a prayer whispered against the tide of despair that had nearly consumed you.

“So it’s McLaggen again, is it?” he asks blearily, slowly opening his eyes and looking up at you. “I must have done something to annoy you again.”

He’s alive?

Or… maybe you died too? You pinch yourself to see if you can feel pain. Hard. 

You can.

You blink dumbfounded at the cautiously expectant look on McLaggen’s face. He can’t be alive. He just can’t be. You’d never be that lucky. Out of instinct, you pinch him too to check if he’s real.

“Ow!” he winces.

He is alive.

You blink in disbelief as the tiniest smirk crosses his face. “I - how?” 

“Lucky charm,” says Cormac as with difficulty he brings his hand up to the chest pocket of his t-shirt and tries to extract something.

“What the-” You're breathless, caught in the sway between joy and the lingering shadow of sorrow.

“Just - look.” 

Once you’ve helped him take the Polaroid out of his shirt pocket you recognise it immediately. A selfie of you and Cormac in the Quidditch stands at Hogwarts. The one you used to use as a bookmark. A snapshot from what seems like a lifetime ago. Except there’s a burned scar on it now. Right through the middle.

“I think that this -" he touches the photo in your hand, "- took the brunt of the Killing Curse. And somehow, it spared me.”

“Cormac,” you say gently, given that he’s just woken up after being an inch away from death. “That’s not how the Killing Curse works. You can’t be saved by - by love.” 

But even as you say the word love, something prickles on the back of your neck. And to give him credit, he has a point.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” asks McLaggen. His stern look, so assuringly familiar, grounds you, reminding you of the countless times his stubbornness had been a beacon in darker days.

“Maybe it was the picture,” you concede softly, brushing his curly hair, feeling something warm and wet. Blood. “Your head is bleeding -”

Yells of shock and cheers erupt from the Great Hall, interrupting your reasoning.

“Harry?”

“He’s alive!”

The mix of distant exclamations makes you both freeze. 

“It sounds like Potter wasn’t killed by Voldemort’s Killing Curse either…” you say, looking in the direction of the castle doors. When you turn back to face McLaggen he’s frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s fine,” he says, touching the back of his head.

“Cormac, are you annoyed because you’re not the only one who survived the Killing Curse tonight?”

“Let’s go back - the others might need our help,” says McLaggen, ignoring the question. You get to your feet and offer him a hand to get up which he accepts, straining with effort as he does.

“It’s alright if you are,” you offer, helping him onto his feet. "Annoyed, I mean."

“Well, nobody’s going to remember I survived it if Potter is alive too.” McLaggen puts an arm around your shoulder and you brace yourself to support him but he doesn’t need it. He just pulls you close as you walk through the courtyard - if it wasn’t for the devastation it would feel exactly like how the two of you used to walk around Hogwarts. McLaggen with his arm around you, your body slotting into the crux of his arm like you were always meant to be there.

“I don’t want anyone else to try to help,” Harry’s voice rings loudly from the hall as you slowly ascend the castle steps. “It’s got to be like this. It’s got to be me.”

Of course, it’s got to be Potter. 

“Cormac, when they write the history books nobody’s gonna remember anything we did. It’s Potter’s story. We’re just the background characters,” you say.

“Well, I can think of a few people who’ll remember,” says McLaggen, nodding to the rest of the D.A. just visible through the doors of the Great Hall as the crowd of onlookers watch Potter and Voldemort circling each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and your friends sit at what used to be the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Neville Longbottom is talking to Michael Corner and Terry Boot while Terry admires the great, ruby-handled sword lying across the middle of the table.

Harry Potter is moving among the groups of survivors, his presence a quiet pillar of strength as he shakes hands and listens to their stories. The hero of the day.

Harry won. You and McLaggen made it back into the Great Hall just to see the final killing blow. You watched Voldemort hit the floor with your own two eyes. And now, you’re at a loose end. Elation feels distant, almost inappropriate, as the absence of Marietta and Eddie haunts the space around you, their unoccupied places at the table a gaping wound. The cost of victory.

“Explain it again,” says McLaggen, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Slower this time.”

“Cormac, keep still,” you chide, wrapping a bandage around his head.

“Harry sacrificed himself which meant he gave everyone in the castle sacrificial protection,” says Cho, with the appropriate air of speaking to someone with a head injury. “So none of the curses that Voldemort or the Death Eaters cast after that stuck properly. Which is why the Killing Curse didn’t kill you.”

“So how come Harry didn’t die?”

Cho pauses and purses her lips. “I don’t actually know.”

“And how do we know it wasn’t my sacrifice that was protecting everyone in the castle?” says McLaggen who then winces as you tie the bandage.

“Because, darling, you didn’t sacrifice yourself. You just tried to attack Voldemort and got knocked out trying,” you say soothingly.

“That makes it sound much less cool than it was,” grumbles McLaggen, half-joking, half-serious. “And I didn’t even get a sword,” he adds, glancing at Terry who is now miming Neville cutting the head off of a snake with the sword of Gryffindor.

A silence falls as you sit down beside McLaggen, resting your head on his shoulder, seeking comfort in the familiar warmth of his presence, your stomach jolts every time you think about Voldemort cutting him down so casually.

“I noticed none of you were at my deathbed when I came round, by the way,” he says, as if he can’t help himself from breaking the silence.

“Ve vere busy covering the two of you with a shield charm,” says Krum. “Then the Death Eaters turned their attention to us and ve had to retreat.”

“It’s a shame Potter didn’t sacrifice himself just a little bit earlier,” you say, sadly, thinking about Marietta and Carmichael.

“You’re always so harsh on him,” says Katie, looking over your shoulder. “Harry’s actually not bad once you get to know him.”

As you turn to respond, Potter approaches the Gryffindor table and greets the D.A. McLaggen stands to meet him.

“Good work out there, Potter,” he says bracingly. “You make putting your life on the line look easy, mate.”

“Er, thanks,” says Potter uncertainly. He looks even more tired than you feel. There are dark circles under his eyes and even though he’s not covered in as much soot, blood and debris as you and McLaggen, he looks pale and drawn. “You too, McLaggen. I saw what you did. It was really decent of you, standing up for Muggleborns like that when you could have kept quiet.”

“Well,” says McLaggen casually, taking your hand and bringing you to your feet. “There was a lot at stake.” You slip your arm around his waist and give him a little squeeze.

“And you - you were the one causing the Ministry so much grief back in October, right? You broke the Muggleborns out of Azkaban?”

You nod and gesture to the area of the table where Cho, Krum, Katie, Leanne, Davies, Wood, Angelina and Alicia are all engrossed in conversation. “We all did. Everyone who was half-decent on a broom.” You pull a tight-lipped smile thinking about what Katie said about you being harsh on Potter. “Except you, of course. Could have used your skills if you weren’t the Ministry’s most wanted.”

Potter smiles weakly. “Thanks, I appreciate that coming from you… Captain.”

McLaggen brings you tighter into a one-armed hug around your shoulders as Potter walks away.

“Do you think he called me ‘Captain’ because he can’t remember my name?” you ask as you both watch Potter continuing the rounds..

“Oh, one hundred per cent,” says McLaggen.

“Unbelievable. I’ve only played Quidditch against him every single year since he started school.”

“Maybe you need a better name.”

“Oh, really?” You roll your eyes and turn to face him, waiting for the punchline. “Go on, then. You got a nickname for me or something?”

McLaggen smirks and his self-satisfied smile meets his green eyes. “I meant a new surname.”

Oh.

“McLaggen, I -“

“You might have to start calling me Cormac all the time now, though. It’s gonna get pretty confusing otherwise.”

You take a deep breath and McLaggen falters slightly when you reach up and hold the sides of his face with both hands. His prickly stubble tickles your palms.

“McLaggen, I really think we need to find Madam Pomfrey.”

“What?” 

“Have you or have you not sustained a head injury?”

McLaggen looks at you intently, his green eyes focusing on yours. “I’m serious.”

“I am too,” you say. “You sure you haven’t been confunded again?”

“I’m pretty confident that’s not the case,” he says. 

“Ask me again once you’ve had your head checked out,” you murmur before pressing your lips against his. Even under the smoke and sweat, you can still smell the heady amber and jasmine scent of him that so reminds you of your first Potions lesson together.

“Alright, I will,” says Cormac McLaggen when you eventually break apart. “If it’d make you happy.”

Like moonstone being dropped into a cauldron, the idea of it - the sheer hope - glints and sparkles amidst the worst sorrow you've ever experienced.

"It would," you say.

It would make you deliriously happy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, @lipstickandloveletters, @ichorai, @marmie-noir, @lolitstiana, @evabellasworld, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @xyzstar (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

#cormac mclaggen x female reader #cormac mclaggen #cormac mclaggen x reader #ravenclaw #ravenclaw fanfiction #smut #fanfic #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #freddie stroma #deathly hallows #harry potter and the deathly hallows #cormac mclaggen fic #cormac mclaggen fanfic #mclaggen x reader #mclaggen x female reader

[dangans-ur-ronpas]

Chapter 17

continuation of byakuya's no good very bad worst shit ass day of his life (so far)(!!!)

SEE HERE FOR GENERAL WARNINGS AND FIC SUMMARY

Some pre-chapter notes:

this chapter went a little different from how i originally planned bc I was going to make byakuya much more stupid. but. he needs to fly off the handle several times later so. we can't let loose all at once

to be very fair to makoto he did not want to do that. and yet. here we are

the king of kings!! @digitaldollsworld

Content warning tags: ableist language from various characters, Byakuya's panic spiral, mild self-harm reference

< previous - from start - next >

Time seems to grind to a halt. His breath is still caught in his throat, halfway through a relieved sigh as he had been waiting - expecting - for Makoto to help him. To pull up some vague, hidden piece of evidence to clear him of any suspicion, to cleverly point out some irrefutable proof that had previously lay unseen.

But instead - his heartbeats feel too heavy. His breathing feels too light, deprived of any real oxygen. His head pounds in the same way it did when he was struck earlier, with a dull, pulsing ring that washes out everything around him.

He prided himself, once, on being able to read a person’s intent. To judge just when and why they might choose to abandon him, to cross him, to try and use him for their own intents. For that reason, he supposes, is why this sickly, sticky feeling of dread is so new to him. He’s never known real betrayal before.

His eyes dart around the room, but the others don’t seem to believe Makoto just yet. Even Owada seems taken aback, stock still and quiet. Only Kirigiri seems unsurprised - or maybe, he was only imagining it, the tranquil quality of her silence. As if she were merely observing it all, far out of their reach.

“Seriously??” Syo’s voice is a grating jeer. “You’re telling me this whole time he had no idea what I looked like? No wonder he didn’t fall for me at first sight!”

“I…don’t think that’s the reason why,” Hagakure says, though he seems utterly bewildered. “But, that can’t be right, right? I’ve seen him reading loads of times. And he practically lives in the library, y’know?”

“Yeah, and he can do things just fine for himself.” Asahina says in agreement. “I mean, he does his own laundry and stuff, and he knows this place way better than me at least. I didn’t even know where the A/V room was during the first motive, I just sorta followed him.”

“Yes, this is sort of…” For the first time, Celeste sounds genuinely surprised, her usually unphased demeanor wavering, her accent slipping for a moment. “Ahem. While I did note that he sometimes seemed a bit…eccentric, so to speak, nothing of his actions suggested that he was impaired.”

Their skepticism is a small relief. He nods jerkily, unable to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth to verbalize his agreement. But it’s a small, pathetic movement that goes unnoticed, hardly amounting to anything in this large courtroom.

And their disbelief only goes so far. Ogami speaks up now, for the first time since the trial began, her low voice immediately silencing the whispers.

“I performed a concussion test on him earlier,” She says, gruffly. “As Kyoko had asked me to. He was lucid when answering my questions, and he didn’t seem to exhibit any symptoms that couldn’t be attributed to other reasons.” There’s a slight creak of wood, as she shifts her weight on the stand. “However, I did notice that his pupils were…strange.”

“My- what?” He sputters now, too suddenly, too loudly. He reaches up to touch slightly-trembling fingers to a closed eye, feeling the smooth bump of the cornea twitching beneath the thin skin of his eyelid as if he might be able to identify the damage that way. Why hadn’t she mentioned this earlier? Why bring it up now? “What do you mean, ‘strange’?!”

There’s a slight, panicked edge to his voice that he hopes no one catches, but this was the first time he heard that there could be physical evidence to his affliction. “It was a bit hard to test without the proper tools, but I noticed that they do not react much to changes in light.” Ogami explains. “The shape is also slightly…off. If I had to describe it, I would say that there is…a warping around the edges.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it?!”

“I assumed it was either due to the head injury, or, it was genetic.” There’s an apologetic note to her words. “Given your usual behavior, I…didn’t think it was important.”

Not important. As if she could know what was important here.

“I. Am not. Blind.” He snarls stiffly. “Obviously, I have never taken a close enough look at my own pupils to notice that deformation, but it has never affected my daily life. I am not disabled, nor have I ever been.”

“I find it hard to believe that you have never been aware of it.” Kyoko remarks, tone clipped. “I can’t imagine someone of your status being ignorant of anything concerning your physical health.”

“Then you can rest easy knowing that I am perfectly healthy.” He snaps back, venom flying off his words.

Distantly, he knows that he is digging a pit for himself. That admitting to this would help clear him of any suspicion at all. But he doesn’t care; he would rather die than suffer such indignity. That was what he’s always known, taught by his butler, and then reinforced by all his surroundings afterwards, his siblings, his father - better to perish and let your enemies cry with relief and count themselves lucky, than let them mock you as you dig your own grave.

“You should just admit it already. You are drawing this out to be unnecessarily long, or would you rather doom us all?”

“I don’t see why I should cooperate with someone who has been making mindless accusations at me all this while.”

There’s a tense, snappish tension between him and Kirigiri. A livewire current. A piece of elastic stretched taut. He glares, and to him, her blurred form looks like that of a reared snake.

“Um…” Asahina speaks up, her hand tentatively raised. “If Byakuya’s really blind, can’t we just test it?”

“Excuse me?”

“I-I mean! Not saying that you are blind, or anything,” She says this quickly, carefully, like soothing a spooked horse. “But, we’re not going to get anywhere if you two just keep arguing back and forth, and it’ll be really quick! Like, Sakura, can you hold up a few fingers?” She complies silently, one arm remaining crossed across her chest, the other raised to her side. “How many is she holding up?”

He tries not to squint, but he has no idea. Two? Three? It's nothing more that a blurred, brown shape. “You can’t be serious.” He almost laughs, but the sound he makes is derisive and bitter.

“Y-yes, this is-! Unfair!” Now it’s Yamada, speaking up again. “In case no one else has noticed, Mister Togami is lacking his spectacles! Asking such a thing of him…it’s akin to bullying!”

He’s oddly assertive about this, and Byakuya watches as he pushes his own glasses a little higher. For some reason, being considered something of an equal by Yamada irritates him further. “Shut up.” Who asked for his help.

“Yes, be still please,” Celeste sighs dismissively. “We are playing a game with our lives. This is hardly the time to be discussing moralistic issues.” There’s a slight metallic tap as she raps her silver finger guards against her rings. “But you do make a point. Byakuya does not have his glasses at the moment. It would be difficult to try and confirm anything without them.”

Thank goodness for those with common sense. He doesn’t look to his side, where she was standing, but he swears that he can see her eyes glancing at him, the unnatural red of her pupils bright on her pale face. “Yes,” he agrees, seizing upon it. “And they were broken earlier, thanks to Owada. Nearsightedness runs on my mother’s side, and the former Togami head was farsighted. I will admit that much, is that what you wanted? Kyoko?”

He’s rambling. He’s aware of it. But there are a few nods exchanged, and Asahina scratches at the back of her head awkwardly, as if embarrassed. Kirigiri, however, is still unmoved.

“No. When I say you are blind, I do not mean without your glasses. Or there wouldn’t have been a point in bringing it up in the first place.” Kirigiri shifts her weight slightly, the sway of her stance accompanied by the creak of wood. “Even without your glasses, you cannot do tasks such as reading. I imagine you’ve managed everything else by means of careful practice, but this is the one thing you can’t manage on your own.”

“Hey, Kyoko-” Makoto looks nervous, unsure whether to face him or her. “That-”

“And how do you plan to prove this?” Byakuya snarls. He feels a small flare of triumph, even despite everything, the looming threat of death. “As we found before, I don’t have my glasses. Did you happen to pick those up as well? Did you repair them for me while you were at it?”

Instead of offering a retort, or any sort of reply, she sighs. A soft, tired sound.

“Makoto.” She isn’t facing the other boy, but her tone is firm as she addresses him, and a little exasperated. She doesn’t say anything more, but Makoto seems to understand, and his hands drop to his sides.

“There is a way to prove it.” His voice is quiet. Quiet, and…sad, somehow. Defeated. “Byakuya…please show us your handbook.”

The realization sets in slowly. He’s already been betrayed by Makoto twice now, but still, he finds himself stunned, slack-jawed. This one was the worst by far - not only was he actively helping Kirigiri, he was betraying Chihiro as well, risking revealing everything to that accursed bear. And after all the lengths Byakuya had gone through to protect this secret.

“What are you saying,” He says, and his voice has a humiliating tremor that matches how his hands shake, clutching at the rail. Surely, he’s heard wrong. Surely, Makoto would correct himself, take it back-

“Your handbook. Chihiro, he…he put a program on it that lets you be able to do stuff like tell the time. It also reads stuff aloud. And he did it after the motives got revealed, that night when Celeste saw you guys leaving the bathhouse.” He sounds so somber, so sad and grieving. He won’t meet Byakuya’s eyes. “He did it in exchange for you teaching him how to be strong, and self-confident - which you did, by telling him to go around talking to everyone else today.”

Without really thinking about it, his hand goes to his inner jacket pocket, where his handbook sits. His fingers close around the little device, the hard edges of plastic and metal pressing into the creases of his palm. He feels a little like he’s been shot.

But he doesn’t bring it out. He glares instead, furiously, hatefully, at the boy standing just meters away. He - and Kirigiri too, most likely, Byakuya suspected that Makoto had already revealed everything that that woman - knew perfectly well the importance of Alter Ego, and why it could not, under any circumstances, be revealed. And they knew Byakuya was aware of this too, and they were holding this fact hostage, over his head.

(I could, some sore, beaten part of him thinks with poisonous intent, try and claim responsibility for Chihiro’s murder. I could say that they’re wrong. That I lured Chihiro to the bathhouse with the intent of making him less wary, easier to isolate. That he was so weak and trusting and stupid that killing him was a simple manner. That I mimicked Syo’s modus operandi to throw suspicion off of me.)

The mere thought was shameful, but it was his pride, wounded and bitter, that was seriously considering it, if only for some semblance of control. The barest reassurance that he had any real weight at all in this trial. And all he would need to do is open his mouth and say the words.

But instead, he bites down on his inner cheek, hard enough for blood to trickle out the corner of his mouth, hard enough for the pain to rival the buzzing in his temples. And tightens his grip momentarily, just enough to feel the faint, humming warmth of the handbook against his sweating palm, and exhales slowly.

“...Fine. Fine.” He spits, angry, defeated, exhausted. He’s sick of this. He just wants it to be over. “Yes. I’m blind. I have been so since we first woke up in this school. Are you happy now?”

Makoto looks down, his face shadowed by his hair. Kirigiri tilts her head slightly, a motion that’s not quite a nod but more of a bow.

“Wait, so then-” Asahina’s voice, confused and a little hesitant, pipes up. “If you’ve been…y’know, this whole time, but only after we got to this school…does that mean the Mastermind did this to you, somehow?”

“That’s what I would like to know, myself.” He turns to look at Monokuma, and finds the bear lounging across its throne, a bucket of popcorn resting precariously on the armrest. The repugnant toy giggles, and swings itself upright, spilling a handful of white puffs all over.

“Gosh, I wonder?” The thing taps at its chin, voice taking on a wondering tone. “Of course, I want this game to be fair and give you all a level playing field. I believe in equality after all! …Though this has made for so many entertaining developments, so…I figured I’d leave it as is. Besides, you’ve adapted quite well, haven’t you Mister Togami?” It cackles, paws clutching at its belly. “GIven how well you did hiding it from everyone, I think it’s fine if we leave it like this, don’t you think?”

He wants to cross the courtroom and throttle the stupid thing this instant. All he can do is glare murderously, lips twisted into a snarl.

There’s a sharp clap that has most people jumping. The source of the sound is Kirigiri, whose hands are raised, and pressed together. “Let’s move on.” Her voice is firm, with no room for arguing. “All we’ve done so far is clear one person’s innocence. We still need to identify the real killer.”

And that was it. The most disgusting moment of his life, over just like that, ended by her words. He knows that there’s bound to be some kind of punishment in store for those who interrupt trials, but he briefly wonders if he can get his hands around her neck before Monokuma can react.

Owada jerks at Kirigiri’s words, startled out of his own stunned silence. “W-wait,” He sounds panicked now, and of course he would be. His scapegoat is gone. “Then, if it’s not Byakuya, then who…?”

“Let’s consider what we know. Given how it’s not clear where the murder took place, it would have to be someone who had access to cleaning supplies or water, and has no alibi that can be verified when the murder occurred. For the most part, everyone here has an alibi that can be supported by at least one other person, but there are some that do not.” Kirigiri lists these calmly, and Byakuya imagines her cold gaze, flitting between each person in the room. “Mondo. Do you care to explain what you were doing prior to the body’s discovery?”

The effect is immediate. The other boy rears up, instantly furious. “The fuck are you trying to say? That I’m a murderer?!” He thunders. “Like I said earlier, I was taking care of my bro. You know that. Everyone knows that!”

“As you said earlier, Taka is currently compromised. He can’t give a testimony.” She shoots back without hesitation. “Your alibi is flawed.”

“Yeah? Well - well so’s yours!” He sputters. “Like- Syo might’ve been the one to find you in the bathroom, but that was just before Chihiro was found. Toko can’t say that you weren’t there the whole time, a-and even if you were, maybe the bathroom was where Chihiro died anyways!”

Owada may be stupid, but credit where credit was due, he was surprisingly quick to retort and pick at Kirigiri’s excuse. “I could not have cleaned up a murder scene in the bathroom so spotlessly in the time between Chihiro’s last sighting and the body discovery. As Makoto described earlier, the sinks of the bathroom were all dry-”

“There was that sheet, you could’ve used that before smashing Chihiro’s head over it. And there’s water in the toilets, right? And the girl’s bathroom was right next door!”

“...I’ll commend you for recognizing my perseverance. But I did not kill Chihiro.” She shakes her head. “If the only thing that will clear me is secondhand support to my alibi, then the only thing that needs to be done is to ask a witness. Toko?”

And she addresses Syo now, who just cocks her head for a moment, and shrugs. “I keep sayin’ to you guys, it’s lights out up there. There’s no telling when she’ll be back!”

Byakuya has had enough.

“Toko,” He says first, his voice low and hissing. Then, louder, building into a shout: “TOKO. Come out, NOW!”

“I don’t think it works like tha-” Syo’s words are cut off suddenly, and she collapses where she stands, like a puppet with her strings cut.

< previous - from start - next >

#thpff #thpff chapters #danganronpa fanfiction #byakuya togami #byakuya mentally filing for a second naegami divorce #sorry this one took so long.....my frontal lobe. it is soup #combination filing taxes + applying for classes + applying for jobs + etc etc. it'll do it to ya #going to really really really try to get 18 up by sunday but if its delayed do u prommy not to be too mad at me. do you. pls pls pls #i jest tho. thank u to everyone who has been reading thus far i hope you continue to enjoy it or move on to other things #just knowing you were here even if just for a moment even if for the whole ride is enough for me #i hope this chapter is legible i cranked out the last half of it at 2 am on a half bottle of soju #also had to mentally go over everything twice bc ive been listening to His Dark Materials audiobooks and my writing was turning british #byakuya frothing furious angry defeated at the stand while kyoko is just. o<-< are we done yet. can we please talk about the murder #theyre both toxic here and making everyone bear witness to it #alright folks lets take bets now on who you think the killer is!!!

[imsilay]

LETHAL pt.3

NSFW! mdni +18, cw: possessive behavior, somnophilia, drugging (aphrodisiac), stalker!König, obsessive König, breeding k!nk, size k!nk. belly bulge, oral (female receiving) (idk lmk if i forget anything)

word count: 2.6k! (it’s too much for me :’) )

summary: he was picky and he picked you.

prev chapter here

art cr: Tava_tavatic on twt

A few days later you wake up feeling uneasy. You had a headache and somehow… horny. You got up and had a cold shower, hoping it would help. It helped… Untill you had a irresistible urge to have something inside your aching and dripping cunt at the work. It was a strange feeling, you assumed it was like that because it’s your ovulation day. Sitting on the chair while typing away on the laptop at work; you had to squeeze your thighs together to ease that feeling. Your pussy already soaked at the time you arrived to home. You cursed at yourself for wearing that skirt because the wetness between your legs were dripping down from your trembling thighs at the time you arrived your front door. You just wanted to open the door and satisfy your soaking cunt with your toys.

“Maus?” your heart skipped a beat when you heard his voice. ‘Please god, not him.’ you prayed. That man was extremely attractive and you were down bad for him. You stopped trying to open your damn door with trembling hands as you turned your head towards him and forced a smile. “Hi, König! What are you doing here?” you tried to be polite and calm, but in your head you were screaming for a dick.

"I saw you from over there," he said, pointing at the parking lot next to his apartment building. His accent sent waves of pleasure to your body. "You seemed in a rush. Are you alright?" There was sincerity in his voice and his icy-blue eyes were filled with concern. It made you blush, from cheeks to ears. You swallowed before answering, "It’s nothing important. I just forgot to feed my cat." It was obviously a lie. One of his eyebrows raised, but he nodded and watched as you entered your house after a short goodbye.

You were just so naive and clueless, thinking he wouldn’t notice you’re squirming with need. Of course he would know. He was the one who sneaked into your home and gave you aphrodisiac last night. He just gave you enough to make you needy so you could made it to home after work.

When he saw you getting out of your car, your legs trembling and cheeks flushed, he almost lost it.. He just wanted to drag you to his house and fuck you until you were a babbling and sobbing mess. Yet he managed to keep his calm. He was impatiently waiting for you to enter your house when he already had his eyes on the window, hiding behind the curtains. When you came to view his heart was beating like crazy. You locked the door of your room and opened the drawer, where you put your toys. Too eager for your sweet release you forgot to close your curtains…

He pressed his forehead against the window as he watched you satisfy yourself with different kinds of toys. His cock was rock hard but watching you was much more of an important matter. His cock twitched at the first time you cum, it was a sight to see. Your eyes rolling back as your hips twitched foward to the device. But one wasn’t enough. You needed more.

After two more orgasm you were sobbing and quivering. You just needed something for your aching cunt but nothing was enough. That was when he decided to step in. He was still so hard but he knew whatever he do it wouldn’t soften his cock. But you. He grabbed the keys of his house. And the cookies he made for you as an excuse.

The knocking on your door drew you back to reality from your bliss. You cursed at the person that knocked on the door as you got dressed into something that you’d wear at home. Your legs still trembling and pussy dripping, already soaked the new pair of your panties. You answered the door and hid the half of your body behind the door.

“Hallo, Maus. I brought you some cookies to fix your mood.” he said with that sweet tone. Your hands grabbed the door handle with a force that could kill a man. That was when you decided that. You would fuck that sweet neighbor.

He wondered why you were staring at him without a word. Were you mad at him because he interrupted your sweet time with your toys? Did you notice the bulge that was straining his pants? Or maybe the way he gazed at you hungrily made you feel hesitant to invite him in?

He was too lost in his thoughts, he dropped the cookies when you grabbed his arm and dragged him in. Pressing his back against the door and clinging to his arm. “König.” you whispered before biting your lips to not moan. His heart hammered his chest a few times like it was trying to escape from his chest to you. “Ja, Maus? Is everything okay?” he stuttered as he looked down at you. Your flushed face and the way you looked into his eyes intensely wasn’t helping.

“I need you.” you whimpered and pressed your body against his. “Can you please give me your cock?” you whispered softly and moaned when you felt his already hard cock against your stomach. He was so big. Like you imagined he would be, it made you even more needy.

“You- What?” he stuttered again. The last thing he expected was the way you rubbed your body against him as you pleaded for his cock. He was used to moving with a plan, but the way you ruined it was even better than he could imagine. By the time he collected himself you were grabbing his arm tightly like he would escape from you if you let go. His pupils were blown wide and body tense. “You have no idea what you’re wanting from me, Maus.” he mumbled and picked you up by your hips carrying you to your room like you weighed nothing and you wrapped your legs around him. The voice in his mind was screaming for him to take you in that moment. You weren’t complaining about being carried yet you were happy that he accepted. So clueless. If only you knew he was the cause of your endless neediness.

He made you straddle one of his thighs after removing your shorts and leaving you with your panties. “Show me how bad you want me to fuck you.” he said with authority in his eyes. You had a feeling that if you didn’t do as he said you won’t be getting anything. So you did. Hands on his shoulders as you grounded against his thigh. The fabric of your already wet panties soaking his trousers. You moaned as you felt his muscular thigh under your dripping cunt. He was so big and toned. You wondered what his cock looked like. Just thinking about it made you moan in need and your walls clenched around nothing.

He had to bit his lip to not moan at the sight in front of him. You were grounding against his thigh soaking his trousers and moaning like a bitch in heat. His cock throbbed in his pants. Oh how he wanted to tear your panties down and eat your little cunt out… Your body trembled and hips twitched. “Already, Maus? I haven’t seen someone cumming as fast as you.” he taunted. Your hips were already moving frantically to reach your sweet release. His hands found your hips groping them as he helped you move on his thigh. “Guess you really want me.” he mumbled amused with your efforts. You looked so hot when you used his body for your pleasure. “‘m so close, König.” you whimpered and your movements got erratic. You feel your stomach tightening up as he helped you ground against his thick thigh. “Let go for me, Maus.” he whispered sweetly. He knew it wouldn’t be enough for you anyway. Not until he filled you up with his big cock.

You gripped his shoulders tight as you cum undone on his thigh, eyes rolling back and body twitching. “Braves Mädchen.” he cooed as he laid you on your back gently and spread open your leg. “Do you still need my cock?” he teased. His hands caressing your thighs up and down slowly. “Yes. Yes, König. Please give it to me.” you pleaded with that sweet voice of yours, you had no idea how he wanted it too. He looked as calm and sweet as ever, but deep inside him, he was putting you into positions that he wanted to take you. First he would eat you out until you cum on his tongue like he imagined all nights. Then he would put you on all fours and pound into your needy cunt until you cream on his cock. This night he would fulfill all his sick fantasies and you would just let him take you over and over.

His calloused and lengthy fingers were making you shiver and imagine them deep inside you. You had to have it. “König, can you please…” you reached a hand and pulled his hand towards your mouth, as he watched you with curiosity. His mind went blank when you took his fingers into your mouth and swirled your tongue around them. “Scheiße-” he groaned and pushed his fingers into your mouth further. He fucked your mouth with his fingers, covering his index and middle finger with your drool. Your eyes rolled back with the rhythm of his fingers. “So fucking needy.” he growled when he pulled his fingers out of your mouth drawing a whine out of you. He quickly pulled down your panties and cursed again when he saw how your slick clinged to your panties leaving a trail. When the panties were gone, he pocketed it, he shoved his fingers into your dripping tight hole. You screamed when he found that sweet spot curling his fingers and hitting there again and again. “oh my-“ your legs trembled and hands gripped the sheets for dear life. It wasn’t long when your fourth orgasm hit you like a truck. “It amazes me how fast you cum, Maus.” he chuckled lightly as he continued to pump his fingers into you through your orgasm.

“That’s enough.” you whined and grabbed his forearm. His brows frowned and he sent you a warning look. You pulled your hands away immediately like you touched fire. “Nein. We aint stopping, Maus. Not until i make sure you’re mine.” he mumbled darkly as he leaned his mouth into your pussy. He licked from bottom to your clit making you shudder and moan loudly. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop him because you were scared of what he would do. His hands grabbed your thighs firmly to prevent you from closing them. He lapped at your pussy like he was thirsty for a month and you were his only water supply. His mask covering between your legs, where his mouth at, and you was glad it did. Because if you saw him eating you out like that you would’ve gone crazy. His icy-blue eyes found yours when he sucked your clit. The sensation was too much for you especially after cumming that much. “Plea-“ your breath hitched when he forced his tongue inside. Your eyes rolled back and you let out a high pitched scream. You cum all over his tongue and he gladly accepted your juices. Sucking and lapping hungrily.

“Du schmeckst so süß.” (You taste so sweet.) he mumbled as he licked you up for the last time. He pulled back reluctantly feeling like he could dive in again and make you cum over and over again. “Time for the main course, Maus.” he whispered into your ear. “Would you like to take off my mask? So you can see how much i will enjoy fucking your little cunt.” he purred. He was still gentle yet he made you feel weak. Like you couldn’t resist him, even if you wanted to. You grabbed the mask with trembling hands and pulled it off. This was the first time you saw him without his mask. He was handsome despite the scar on his face. Before you could say anything he slammed his lips to yours and grabbed your jaw forcing you to part your lips so he could explore your warm mouth with his tongue. You moaned softly and tasted your arousal from his lips. He swiftly unbuckled his belt with one of his hands and tugged his pants down along with his boxers. He groaned into your mouth when his cock was finally free and fully erected. His lips didn’t left yours as he pressed his red tip against your throbbing clit and made you squirm.

“I wonder were you this needy before the aphrodisiac i gave you.” he mumbled after releasing your lips. Your mind was too foggy after all your orgasms you barely understand what he say. “What did-” he cut you off again but this time shoving his cock inside your tight cunt. His tip hit your cervix and made your toes curl. “Too- Fuck. Too deep.” you sobbed. He stretched you out so deliciously but it hurt like hell. He was so fucking big his cock made a bulge on your belly. He groaned as he rested his forehead against yours. “It will be okay. You can take it, Maus.” he cooed. But it felt like he was sliding you open with his monster sized cock. “You feel so good around me.” he mumbled as he placed kisses on your face. He knew he was too big for you. You were so small compared to him, in every way. He let you adjust his length inside you but it become hard for him to not move when your walls clenched around him. “It hurts.” you cried and gripped his shoulders. “I know, Maus. You’re doing so good f’me.” he kissed your lips until your cries wane. You were so much important than him. He worshipped you.

“I’m gonna move.” he whispered and started to thrust into your tight cunt slowly at first. When your pussy adjusted his length, he picked up the pace. He was bullying his cock into your dripping hole with a merciless pace like he was taking revenge of the time he jerked off while watching you through the window. All you could do was dug your nails into his shoulders and scream his name.

“Scheiße.” he hissed. It was just like how he imagined it would be. He imagined your face twisting with pleasure and screaming his name as he bullied his cock into your little cunt. “Louder.” He slammed his hips into yours hard. Your pussy swollen and dripping from all the stimulation. “I said louder.” he hissed and smacked your hips hard. He wouldn’t stop until you did as he said. So you did. You screamed his name as loud as you can. It made his cock twitch hearing you forcing yourself to slur his name out. “Braves Mädchen.” he cooed as he slammed his lips harder into yours. He threw his head back and groaned when you cum unannounced, creaming on his cock and crying his name. Your walls clenched around him drawing him to edge as he fucked the orgasm out of you. “König, i can’t… anymore.” you whimpered between your sobbing. Hearing you beg him with your voice hoarse from all the screaming and moaning, made him cum deep inside you. “Mine.” he mumbled as he fucked his cum into you. “You’re mine, Maus. And i won’t let you leave me anymore.” he mumbled like he was talking with himself. It sent chills down to your spine. He didn’t pull his cock out plugging his cum into your pussy. You didn’t even had the strength to push him away. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and put your head onto his chest. He wouldn’t let you go. Never. You were his.

a/n: please support me by reblogging, if you liked the content ofc <3 your comments also makes my day :*

also i post everyday -sometimes 2 posts in a day- so if you follow me i won’t disappoint ;)

this work is basically all the things i want him to do to me.

….

@mitchlow

#konig x you #könig smut #könig fanfiction #könig x reader #könig x y/n #konig cod #konig smut #konig x reader #konig x y/n #könig #i know it’s könig #konig mw2 #silay

[remuslovebot]

Felix catton x reader where oliver is being really weird towards reader and felix is protective

gah this sounds excellent! thank you for the request!

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

warnings: spoilers!!! bit of an au, language and light nsfw, stalking, obsession. one use of y/n

————————————————————————

It was your first summer at Saltburn and you and Felix were attached at the hip.

Reading together by the poolside, you were curled up to his chest and reading the Harry Potter book that was passed around the entire group that summer. Felix had just finished it and now it was your turn.

Felix was reading a book that you had recommended to him — “The Secret History” by Donna Tart. Getting board with reading, you sat yourself up. A groan escaped Felix’s lips and you smiled. “Just going for a swim, care to join?” You asked, turning to him.

He seemed tempted, but he couldn’t put his book down. You just had that good of taste. “Maybe after I finish this chapter love,” he said. You nodded and made your way to the pool.

A moment later and out of thin air, Oliver appeared next to you. Oliver was quite jealous of the fact Felix had invited both of you to Saltburn. He wanted Felix to himself but Felix couldn’t keep his eyes away from you.

“I can see you both love each other very much,” Oliver says slowly and calculated. He turns his head to meet your gaze and there is a glimmer in his eyes.

“We do,” you confirm, a smile creeping onto your face. You blushed.

“I can hear you in the next room,” Oliver said, making his way towards you. “I see how he fucks you and how much control he has over you,” he said, getting only slightly closer.

You back away, looking at him with some confusion. ‘Why would he watch you and Felix?’

“Felix and I’s relationship is none of your business Oliver,” you retorted, snappily.

Before Oliver could respond, Felix cannonball’s into the pool. Swimming over to you, he slides his arms around your waist.

“What are you talking about?” Felix asked, a slight bit aggressive. Then Oliver replied. “Oh nothing, just my party,” he shrugged lying, swimming away from the both of you.

You let it be, too stunned to speak.

Later that night, you and Felix had snuck away after dinner. You two were in the labyrinth, Felix’s hands pulling at your waist. His lips trailing kisses down your neck leaving love bites and little marks as he went.

“Felix,” you giggled, his touch soft but still tickling.

“What?” He smiled teasingly, moving a hand to brush some hair from your face. You both made eye contact. Felix was much taller than yourself and you enjoyed how he towered over you. He brushed some hair from your face and leaned into kiss you.

But you backed away in fright, from the corner of your eyes you could see someone in the bushes.

Felix grew concerned, having never seen you like this.

“Whats wrong?” Felix asked.

You saw a figure near a hedge, the person looked small and angry. You looked back to Felix. “It’s Oliver,” you whispered, hoping he would believe you.

Felix saw your frightened eyes and got up from on top of you. “Oliver?” He shouted to the dark.

You saw now that no one was there.

Felix turned to you, “Are you okay? Because no one was there,” he said, concerned.

You shook your head, standing up. “No I’m not alright. I just saw Oliver watching us, right after he told me today that he stalks us,” you said, tears forming in your eyes.

“Do you not believe me?” You asked Felix.

Felix came up to you and embraced you in a soft hug. “I believe you,” he said. “He lied about his family. I’m not sure what to do.” Felix added.

“He lied about his family?” You asked, growing more concerned. “He’s a psychopath,” you said, pulling away from Felix.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Felix said, protectively. “I’ll get mum to throw him out right after the party tomorrow night,” he said.

You nodded, “stay by my side,” you said. Felix took your hand and kissed your forehead, “I won’t let him near you.”

The next night at the party, you were dressed as a nymph. There was glitter in your hair and on your cheeks. You wore an old silky night gown, which Felix said he couldn’t wait to take off later.

Felix had kept his word and stayed next to you the whole night. Elsbeth and Sir James loved the look of you two, enjoying yourselves and having fun.

You didn’t see Oliver anywhere and wondered where he could be lurking.

Towards the end of the night, Felix wanted to get you back to his bedroom. On the way up the stairs, you ran into Oliver.

Felix went infront of you, he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not from this lying creep. “Go away Oliver,” he said strongly.

“I wanted to explain myself,” he said, sounding drunk.

“We don’t want your explanations,” Felix replied. “You lied to me and my family. And then you admitted to stalking me and y/n,” he said.

Oliver came closer, “I just wanted to be your friend. One of the group.” He said pathetically.

Felix went to move past Oliver, you following behind. As you went passed Oliver he tried to grab you and Felix turned to punch him in the face.

“Don’t touch her!” Felix yelled, causing some faces, including the Catton family and Farleigh to see.

Oliver in his drunken state missed a couple steps and fell. Not terribly injured he propped himself up. He was gone from Saltburn the following morning.

#felix catton x y/n #felix catton #felix catton x reader #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #saltburn x reader #saltburn #oliver quick #oliver quick x reader

[gotham-daydreams]

Not Here

[Yandere! Platonic! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of neglect, Mild Yandere Behavior, Batfam being hella stupid.]

(Not really proofread. The birds and bats seeing that y'know- maybe not paying attention to people and neglecting them isn't a good thing. Chaos ensues. More of a development thing. Might be a little ooc?)

Tags: @bigcandlesmolbrain

Chapter 2 of this post. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

๑۩۞۩๑—————————————————————๑۩۞۩๑

Bruce liked to think he was a good father, for anything that was worth. Or at the very least, a decent one.

He wasn't perfect by any means, but he felt like he raised his children the best he could, and had made them into responsible and diligent adults. Dick was a great example of this, and even if Damian was still growing up, Bruce had hope that he'd turn out to be good as well. The hardships his current Robin had to face would pay off in the end, Bruce was almost too sure of that.

Those he decided to take under his wing had their flaws, yes, but even if he didn't say it out loud or point it out often. He did believe that they were good at what they do, or at least were on the right path to becoming good vigilantes. Bruce couldn't help but be proud and prideful of where his children and sidekicks were, and could only look forward to how they would continue to develop as time went on. Despite their feelings towards him, and his own faults, mistakes, paranoia, and so on. Along with how he felt about them, and their flaws — he couldn't help but respect the people those in his little mess of a family where becoming, and turning out to be.

Or maybe he was both overestimating and underestimating himself, and the true effects he had on those he decided to look after.

Since, for a few days now, he felt like something was... off.

The Manor seemed quieter these days, and even if he couldn't remember a time where it was particularly loud, the detail felt misplaced to him. Sure, he hasn't hosted a gala or party in a while, but that didn't feel like it was the reason why the silence suddenly bothered him.

Bruce tried to think of all possible reasons, a little surprised himself that this feeling of his was bothering him so much, but the more he thought about it the more confused he became. There didn't seem to be a particular reason for this... and yet, just as he was about to put this feeling aside, he heard it.

["I, um, I was just wondering..."]

["Oh, uhh, that's quite alright! Oh, one moment please... oh! Second chorus... T'was brilling, and the slithy toves, did gyre and gimble in the wade..."]

It sounded like some sort of... play? Bruce wasn't too sure, but still decided to check it out regardless, wondering why something like that was playing in the first place.

So, allowing the sounds of the play to guide him, he continued on.

["Why- why you're a cat!"]

The voices grew louder as Bruce drew closer, interest peaked as he tried to recall and see of he knew this play. The lines sounding familiar, now that he was really listening to them.

["A Cheshire Cat. All mimsy were the borogoves..."]

Once Bruce rounded the corner he saw a... familiar face on the screen.

A student play was being filmed, and the play itself was Alice in Wonderland.

Whereas Bruce didn't recognize the actor for Alice, he did recognize the actor for the Cheshire Cat, but couldn't quite put his finger on it...

Was... was that...?

"Y/n?" He whispered your name, voice barely above a whisper.

No, it couldn't be. You didn't participate in any plays, and surely if you did he would've known about it. Even then, that didn't explain why he was seeing this now. The play itself had to have been a recording, since you looked so young...

How long ago did this take place?

["Oh, wait! Don't go, please!"]

["Very well. Third chorus..."]

["Oh no, no, no... thank you, but- but I just wanted to ask you which way I ought to go."]

["Well, that depends on where you want to get to."]

["Oh, it really doesn't matter... as long as I g-"]

["Then it really doesn't matter which way you go! Ah-hmm.... and the momeraths outgrabe..."]

Bruce was staring so intensely at the screen that he hardly noticed how the lines and voices faded into the background. His focus centered on you, disbelief gnawing at the back of his head.

He had never seen you smile like that before, not during all the times he's seen you anyway. Even if those moments themselves were small and short from what he could remember, the smile you wore during your performance felt... new in a way. Like something he hadn't seen before — not on your face anyway. Though that wasn't the only thing that made Bruce feel weird as he watched the play.

It wasn't anything to do with your acting skills. They were fine for the most part — and honestly considering the age you probably were during the time of the play, they might've been above average, or even a little higher than that. Not even the girl who played Alice, who also did relatively well, was the source of this odd feeling.

It wasn't the costumes or the set up, or even the lighting, and how he could faintly see the silhouette of other actors and such just behind the curtain, because of the camera angle. No, it hardly had anything to do with anything like that, but, how should he put this...

... How come he didn't know about this? How come he wasn't aware of this play before? Let alone that they had a recording of it, and that you were even a part of it... but Bruce still felt bothered by this whole realization because, well.

Why didn't you tell him about this?

"Master Bruce?"

The sudden voice snapped Bruce out of whatever trance he was stuck in, as he whipped his head around to face the source of it.

He huffed softly, "Oh, hey Alfred." Bruce greeted calmly, acting as if the butler hadn't caught him off guard.

Alred couldn't help but raise a brow at that.

Almost in a silent, embarrassed way, Bruce glanced off to the side only to notice that the recording was still playing, and so he decided to ask about it. Since, if someone knew anything about anyone in this Manor, it would be Alfred.

"Say... what's this playing on the TV?"

"It's a recording of one of Master Y/n's plays, Master Bruce." Alfred answered simply, almost as if it was common knowledge. "Apologies if it's too loud, I decided to play it while cleaning. I can change it or turn it down if you'd like."

"No, no it's fine... but since when has Y/n acted in plays? I don't remember hearing about this." Bruce stated, confusion growing as another emotion began to swell in his chest. One he was all too familiar with, but ignored for the moment.

"Since middle school, if I recall correctly, but it was only while they were younger. Having only been in three school plays in total, I believe." Alfred moved closer to Bruce as he looked at the screen, eyes softening for a moment as he watched you move along the stage. You had grown up so much since then, and the stage fright you used to have felt like nothing more but a faint memory now.

You wouldn't believe how incredibly proud of you he is.

"It's a shame they didn't do any more afterwards, since it would've been nice to have a few more recordings of their performances, but I suppose that's what happens when you find a new passion." He looked back at Bruce. That previous softness in his gaze nowhere to be found.

There was a certain way how his eyes looked at the billionaire, as if expecting something. As if expecting this.

Alfred had higher hopes, but you had left for a reason. Even if he knew what that reason was, it was only now did he see it more clearly. Especially as he witnessed Bruce's face shift into one of shock and surprise.

"They've always told you, Master Bruce, but you're schedule has just always been too full." Alfred handed Bruce a piece of paper, and Bruce took it wordlessly, looking it over.

It was a flyer promoting a play — the Alice in Wonderland play that was still going in the background — with the dates and times listed below, along with some of the cast members. Your name stuck out like a sour thumb compared to the rest.

Bruce did remember seeing this before, but one thing did still confuse him as he looked back at Alfred.

"I'm pretty sure you gave this to me at the time, not Y/n."

"That I did, sir, but that was only because Master Y/n was having some trouble with catching you attention, because they had wanted to give you the flyer themself. So I offered to give it to you for them." Alfred replied truthfully, cleaning up a little more while he was at it, and leaving Bruce to his thoughts for the moment.

He didn't remember you trying to catch his attention... but if what Alfred says is true then that makes sense, even if it made Bruce feel bad in a way. The feeling growing a little more when he realized something Alfred had said.

"And this happened all three times?"

"You sound surprised, Master Bruce."

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, eyes pinned on the flyer as he pressed his pursed into a thin line. Countless thoughts floated around in his head, all of them jumbled up and messy as he just didn't know what to make of this. Missing one was probably fine, and maybe two at a push, but all three? How could he have missed every single one?

Sure he was busy, but he didn't think it was this bad. Did he just forget? How did he not notice such a thing had slipped right past him?

All Bruce could do was sigh. There was nothing he could do about it now, and even if there was a way to make it up to you, he didn't know where to start, or if that would change anything to begin with. Besides, he didn't even know how long it's been since these performances had happened.

...

Wait a minute-

"Alfred, how long ago was this?"

Alfred just looked at Bruce, brows just barely creased before he took a breath of his own.

"A few years ago, sir."

What?

At the look of disbelief on Bruce's face, Alfred could only stand and straighten himself out as he calmly asked, "How old do you think Master Y/n is, sir?"

"Oh, well, they're..."

... Bruce couldn't even think of an answer.

Obviously you had to be in highschool since it had been years since you've performed in a play, with the Alice in Wonderland play being one of them, but how old were you exactly? What year were you in? Were you a sophomore? Junior? Surely you weren't a freshman, but even then — what high school did you even go to? Bruce didn't think you were home schooled, or else he'd definitely notice that... or would he?

Oh no.

What if you already graduated? What if you already had gone and done something that not even Alfred knew about? Did you have a job? Where would you even work? Were you already in college? What college would you even go to? Did you manage to get a scholarship? What would be you major? Where would you be studying? Would you even stay in Gotham? Were you even old enough to be out on your own? Could you even drink yet? Could you drive? Did you own a car? Or even a motor bike? When was your birthday? Did it already pass? What's the month? The day? The year?

How old are you?

"I... I think I'm going to go and just check up on them." Bruce couldn't answer, and while he had a vauge idea. That's all it was, an idea. So he moved the subject along, and made his way up the stairs, leaving Alfred behind. Just watching as the world's greatest detective left the room, all because he couldn't figure out the age of one of his own kids. One he had chosen to take in and watch over like all the rest, and yet left behind all the same in the process.

Alfred could only sigh to himself as he paused the recording of the play. Ejecting the disc and putting it in its respective case, and placing it in its usual spot.

This was the only way, he decided. This was the only way.

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

Bruce didn't feel much better by the time he reached your room. It took him mistakenly stumbling into two guest rooms before he finally reached it, and honestly he felt more regret over that alone.

Most of this time he hardly remembered that the room before him now was even occupied, let alone that you had claimed it as yours. What didn't help was that it was only now that he remembered introducing this space as your own, and yet he had forgotten that small detail so quickly.

Regardless, Bruce just pushed that all to the side as he knocked on the door, taking in a breath.

"Y/n?" He called out, only to get no respose. So he tried knocking again, but he still got nothing.

Sure, he was getting a little confused, but just pushed that to the side with everything else, as he stared down at the door knob.

... Should he?

He had to talk with you eventually, especially considering what he just figured out and how little he actually knew about you. He needed to talk with you. He couldn't just let this slide, not with what he knew now. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

So, be tried the knob, and was kind of surprised that it was unlocked. Though besides that little strange detail, he gently pushed the door open, and took a peak inside.

Oh. You weren't even here...

Bruce didn't know how to feel about that.

Regardless of that, however, he opened up the door a little wider, and stepped inside. What he saw only made him more confused, but also feel so much worse when he looked all over the room. How could this be...?

Various things were on your desk, shelves, and hung on the walls. Your room looked surprisingly clean, but honestly Bruce doesn't know what he was expecting. After all, he didn't even know your exact age or hardly anything about you, and even then — by the looks of things, he had missed out on so much more than he originally thought.

Trophies, awards, medals, and certificates were littered about your room. The very sight of them made the paper in Bruce's hands feel so much heavier, and yet he still held onto it as he further inspected the awards, and few pictures hung on your walls.

Every color was here, from bronze to silver to gold, and at some point it seemed you were able to get a consistent amount of silvers and gold. The awards themselves were from various events and activities that barely corresponded with each other. From fencing to swimming, and dance to pottery. From track and field to literacy, and gymnastics to cooking.

It was like you had tried to do so much of everything, and were trying to collect all of these awards from all of these different activities, rather than earn them because you deserved it for all your hard work and dedication to do that particular activity, but Bruce just couldn't understand why. Why go through all of the effort just to move on to the next thing? It... didn't make sense.

Right next to you black belt for martial arts, you had hung up the few medals you had gotten from track, and right below that were some awards you had for gymnastics. Beside your soccer trophies you had some kind of art award, and beside that was more awards and things you had received from playing and participating in other sports and activities. Bruce had no idea you were even into some of these things, but just from looking at your room, he could tell you weren't all that into or interested in some of the activities you did. Seeing as some activities and such had more awards when compared to others, but one thing in particular seemed to really catch your interest.

Music.

Not only did you have a whole wall and section of your room dedicated to it, but it felt more organized, and the placement of awards and such seemed more thought out in a way.

Countless awards littered the wall, and from the placement alone he knew you were proud of them. The pictures hung on the wall showed you shaking someone's hand as you either held up an award or album cover. You smiled, and Bruce could see how genuine it was as he felt like he could feel your happiness radiate off the photo itself. The people you were shaking hands with looked pretty happy themselves, and Bruce was a little surprised that he recognized them, but that made him feel more conflicted.

The people in those photos with you, were famous, and you had gotten those opportunities to meet them and shake their hand all by yourself.

All of these awards — they were only the finishing products of what you had spent all of your time doing. They were only small glimpses into the person you truly were, and as Bruce looked at the records you had hung on the wall, he could feel his own regret spilling out of his bleeding heart.

He wish he was there with you.

He wish that he had been there to see you even get half of these rewards that you undoubtedly deserved. He wish he got to hear the music you played, and what kind of songs you wrote. He wish he had been there to see you go on, and work your way up, with him being there as your support, and yet...

He had missed everything.

From the plays, to the matches you had, to the games you played in and competitions you participated in, and how could he forget your performances that even earned you such big, important awards. Awards that probably meant so much to you, because of how far it showed you had grown.

Bruce missed it all. Every little thing.

... He had to find you.

No if's or but's this time. No more excuses. He had to find you. Bruce needed to.

So he did a more thorough search of your room. Finally placing the flyer down on your desk as he looked around. He checked your closet, your bed, even under the picture frames, and moved some of the awards around, in order to better check and search for anything. Any hint that could point to where you had gone, and or where you might be. Any clue, any thing that could tell him about you.

He even made sure to take a mental note of the people in the photos, just in case he had to reach out to them and ask if they knew where you were by some off chance. Though that was only if Bruce was convinced that you weren't even in the Manor, and getting some extra information on you never hurt anyway. Seeing as he had a lot of catching up to do.

As he searched, he ran into various things. From equipment, art pieces — most of which were unfinished — and old notes, to other random items. Like an airsoft gun, some glass beakers, various ties, a pair of shades, a glasses frame, and a sewing kit next to a first-aid kit? Bruce didn't want to think about how the first-aid kit both looked used, and was empty.

Bruce even stumbled upon a fancy looking tuxedo he didn't remember buying you at all, but a small tag caught his eye and-

Oh, it was a gift from someone else, and with the note you left behind the tag — most likely with the intention of giving the tuxedo back — it was safe to assume that you and this person knew each other quite well...

Bruce just put the tux back. He would've gotten you a better one anyway if you had just asked, or if he even knew you needed one in the first place. Though regardless of that, he kept looking.

Eventually, he looked under your bed, and found a single box under there. Undisturbed... sitting innocently in the darkness.

Bruce didn't waste much time as he reached out and grabbed it, and placed it on your bed. There was a thin layer of dust on top of it, which Bruce found a little strange but kept in mind as he opened the box and looked inside. There, he saw a variety of notebooks and papers, and from the looks of things, the items in here had been collecting a bit of dust too...

When was the last time you touched these?

It seemed a little strange that these were tucked away from everything else, and clearly you didn't want other people going through it or even seeing them since you kept it so out of view. Were they diaries? Bruce would rather learn anything personal about you from yourself, he didn't want to go through your things like this, but considering the situation...

He sighed, and just picked up a random notebook. If this could help him find you, then so be it. He didn't want to do this but he couldn't leave you alone either. Not again.

Yet, he was so focused on looking through your things that he didn't even realize that someone had passed by, and noticed the odd room Bruce was in. A room that they themselves haven't seen before.

"Woah, what's this place? An old childhood room or something?" Dick asked as he invited himself into the room, mindlessly looking around, not really paying attention to anything in particular as he waltzed around.

"It's Y/n's room." Bruce stated bluntly, still looking over the dusty notebooks in the box. Some simply labeled 'Notes' or 'Practice', while one in particular was called 'Ideas/List & Progress' with little drawn sparkles around it. Another two weren't labeled with titles or words, and instead with small music notes doodled onto the cover in your favorite color. Though Bruce didn't know the color was your favorite.

Nevertheless, Bruce decided to look through one of the notebooks with music notes on it, completely missing how Dick had froze, and turned to look at him as if he was crazy.

"What? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bruce just gestured to one of the records on the wall, flipping through the notebook in his hand as he read through it quickly but carefully.

Dick, still not entirely convinced and honestly just really confused, looked at one of the records Bruce had gestured towards, and felt like he had just gotten ran over by a truck with how hard reality hit him. There your name was, signed and everything, with a well-known producer listened as well.

His eyes even darted to the other records, only to find the same thing, and for just one final check, he looked at one of the awards on the wall.

Your name was engraved on it.

"Holy-" He covered his mouth, more than shocked as he looked around the room again, hand falling from his face, "but that means-" Now Dick was paying more attention to the room, moving from one thing to another as he looked over everything now.

"How did they- there's no way they did all of this? And- what. They even did gymnastics?!" To say that Dick was in absolute disbelief and shock was an understatement. Yet he hardly had any time to recover or process anything as another person popped into the room, albeit only temporarily.

"I'm afraid it is quite possible, Master Dick." Alfred spoke up, catching the attention of the oldest sibling as he moved into the room, and set a stack of papers on your desk, right next to the flyer Bruce had set down.

Confused and curious, Dick looked at the stack once Alfred had pulled away from it, and picked up the first paper.

It was another flyer, but this time for some kind of solo event or concert you'd be doing. The date written down was a few days ago... a week or so having already passed since then, but how could this be?

Dick hesitated, but took another one as he looked it over. Again, it was for some kind of concert or performance, but the date and time was further away. Three weeks to a month having passed since, but how did they not notice? Didn't you say anything? Why didn't you tell them?

"This doesn't make any sense... why didn't Y/n tell us about any of these things?" He asked, mostly to himself as he continued to look through the various flyers.

"Why don't you tell me, Master Dick?" Alfred quipped, looking at Dick in a knowing way before stepping out of the room, "Now, I'll be heading off, but I do trust that both of you make the right choice this time around." With that, he simply left. Leaving Dick confused but feeling worse at the same time as he looked back at the flyers, mind racing until he spotted something.

Carfully, Dick pulled out another flyer out of the pile as he placed the others to the side. He recognized this one, but where had he seen it before? Was it...

... Oh god.

Dick whipped out his phone and checked his messages. He had to scroll down a bit, but he quickly found your contact and tapped on it. He flipped through your messages, hundreds upon thousands of which he never responded to, and even if that alone made he feel bad. When he found what he was looking for, he felt even worse.

He found a message of you sending him a photo of the flyer, and said how you hoped you'd see him there. The message itself had been sent almost a year ago, and as he looked back at the flyer, he didn't know how to feel. Yet he kept looking, especially as he spotted another familiar poster.

Some of them he was able to connect back to another message you had sent, and the further back he went the more he responded... but it wasn't much, and he seemed to leave you on read more times than not. He had made an effort, but clearly it wasn't enough.

Dick couldn't imagine how that must've felt for you, and he almost didn't want to. Yet he still continued to search through the flyers, and came across one he had an odd memory of. He did remember seeing a text for it, but also remembered hearing about it somehow? He wasn't too sure, but just incase he did decide to look through his voicemail. He didn't know what he'd find, but he decided to just have a little look, even if he wasn't sure he'd even find anything.

So, he matched the date of the message and scrolled until he found it.

The voicemail innocently stared at him, and Dick couldn't help but hesitate before he tapped on it, and let it play. Heart already heavy as he stared down at the flyer. The kind of look someone gave when they already knew it was too late, and Dick didn't know what was worse. The fact that he basically missed out on your entire life at this point, or that he had nothing to say for it besides that he was sorry, and had just forgotten about these things one too many times.

["Hey, Dick! I, um, I hope everything is going well and that patrol hasn't been too bad." Your voice wavered as you spoke. You were clearly nervous but you tried to push on anyway, and cleared your throat before you tried again.]

["How are you, though? I heard that you had a rough night the other day- and I know I'm not really into all this crime-fighting stuff like everyone else but... I just hope you're okay, y'know?" You chuckled nervously before you cleared your throat again, "An-anyway, um, yeah. I just- hope you're okay." The sound of a paper being fiddled with could be heard, and you took in a small breath.]

["So... I have this performance I'll be doing next Saturday- it's more of a competition really, since other musicians and stuff will be there too. It's at 7 o'clock, and I know you guys mostly work at night and everything- but if you could drop by or even just quickly come around at 8:15 that would be great! Since, um, that's when I'll be performing..."]

Dick looked at awards you hung on the wall as the voicemall continued to play. Based on the date of the performance he was able to find the award. You had gotten second place.

["It's um, it's a piece I wrote that's a tribute to your family- the Flying Graysons, that is, since we're allowed to play songs we wrote if they were approved beforehand, and it was! So, um, I really hope you don't mind. Your family is cool! Not that Bruce and everyone else isn't or anything- um, I'm going to stop talking about that before I say something stupid. But! I couldn't help but feel inspired so I, y'know-" you cleared your throat again. Clearly nervous.]

["Sorry for my rambling- but, yeah. You can pass by if you want or have the time, and it's right by that one place Bruce had that whole charity announcement on Monday. You can't miss it, there will be lights and all this other stuff- not to mention that it'll probably be loud considering things, but uh, yeah."]

["So if you think you can make it or pass by, it's at 7! Next Saturday! And if you can't make it by then, I play at 8:15! So, yeah. Remember that! If- if you want to. Hope to see you there! And if I don't, that's okay. I just hope you enjoy the piece if you hear it. Have a good night! Or-! Or day! Whenever you listen this- um, bye!"]

What? You had wrote a song for him? For his parents? For them?

Dick's heart swelled. He didn't even get to hear it either, he wasn't able to. He didn't have time, and he forgot, but that didn't make things better, did it?

You had gone through all of that effort, and not only made a song for him but even played it during a competition and got second place. Yet he couldn't even put a few minutes to the side to listen to it. He didn't.

Now Dick definitely felt awful.

However, he did notice that there was another voicemail left by you just a few minutes after the last one. So, he decided to play that too before his guilt and regret could fully settle in, as if it'd make him feel better somehow.

["8:45! IT'S 8:45! THAT'S WHEN I PLAY! NOT- Not 8:15, sorry! I mixed up the times- that's when a friend of mine plays, not me! Sorry! Uh, but yeah. I play at 8:45- stop by if you can! I hope to see you then! Buh-bye!"]

Okay, well, Dick officially felt worse now. So much worse.

You had all this character and personality, and yet he was never able to fully see it — to hear it like he has now. Not like this, not while he was paying attention.

Your voice was so much different than what he remembered, and despite your nerves you really tried to tell him because you hoped he'd be there. You tried to tell him in hopes he'd actually show up, and he never did. Even as he listened to your other voice messages, he could hear how his own actions, or lack thereof, were affecting you.

The messages grew shorter, more to the point, and while you did still sound enthusiastic — it's like he could hear the hope dying in your voice. The hope that'd he show up. That any effort would be made, but that didn't happen, and it didn't help that Dick was listening to some of the voicemails he was going through right now, for the first time.

He could only imagine the pain he caused you, and Bruce was thinking the same thing.

Bruce was still looking through your notebooks as Dick was regretting everything he had done to you in the past.

The notebook Bruce was reading now was one where you had written down majority of your more recent song ideas, along with things you wanted to try and melodies you were trying to mix together. It was mostly full of lyrics and small notes to yourself about certain things you wanted to keep in mind, and though there was a lot of things crossed out, Bruce couldn't help but be... charmed in a strange way.

How you talked to yourself was adorable, and seeing your excitement for your own performances and such through each word you wrote, just made Bruce feel so happy for you. He could almost picture your smile and how giddy you felt when you were writing some of these things down, or how focused you were when trying to figure out how to continue the chorus of a song you were making — or if there should even be lyrics to begin with. Along with how you wanted the song itself to sound, and what emotions you wanted to capture in it.

With each page turned it's like he could see the entire process you went through when it came to your song composition. Like he was almost there with you in the moment, watching you do your thing, and honestly? Just by that alone he couldn't help but grow... softer.

Bruce loved seeing how your mind worked when it came to music, and your thought process behind each and every little thing. He just... he felt like through each line and little note he read and looked over, he was falling in love. The kind of love that he couldn't quite describe, besides just the love only a father could feel when they really see their child for who they are for the first time. The kind of love Bruce hadn't felt in a long while, nor this intensely.

You were so creative and passionate, so driven to achieve your dream and do what you loved. You were just so... you, and there was just something about the way you expressed that in the notebook that felt charming. The deeper Bruce got into the notebook, the harder it was to not love you, and each time he saw one of your little notes, he could feel himself smiling. You were so precious, how could he not see that before?

Though, besides all of that, he did notice a small pattern.

Every performance you had, you mentioned in the notebook and would express your feelings about it, and every time you did — you'd write something beneath it. Just a small paragraph about certain hopes you had. Hopes that made Bruce's heart squeeze tighter.

It was you hoping that they'd get to see you perform, that they'd show up, and suddenly Bruce was reminded of why he was doing this in the first place. So, he started to flip through your book, shaking out of whatever trance he was in.

With each performance that passed, the little paragraph got shorter, smaller, simpler. Like a quiet prayer that was dying down, as the believer slowly lost their hope and faith. It even came to a point where only one sentence was written for a while.

"I hope I see one of them."

Bruce's heart broke a little more each and every time he saw it, but the page that really got to him was when the sentence was smudged, small wrinkles and creases were on the page, and you couldn’t even finish writing the sentence as the end of the 'e' in 'them' dragged out.

What didn't help was when he flipped a few more pages, and found the last performance you had written about. It was a few months ago, but the date didn't immediately catch Bruce's eye. No, no, no, what caught his attention at first was the change of that single sentence.

"I hope the audience enjoys it."

His heart shattered at that, smile fading as he took in a breath. A moment passed, with Bruce just stating at the writing. Wishing for the impossible, and to change things that had already been done. It was too late, but he somehow refused to believe that now.

Finally, he noticed the date and paused.

That... couldn't be right. You used to write in this notebook all the time from what he could tell, why did you stop? Did something happen that day?

If months really have passed... then that would explain all the dust on the box and contents within it, but still, it didn't make sense. Weren't you still here in the Manor? Bruce honestly couldn't think of why'd you would stop writing unless you somehow couldn't reach the notebook, but you couldn’t have left, right? Surely, above everything else, he would've notice that, right?

...

Bruce finally looked at Dick, seeing the oldest just staring at old flyers from various events and such you had participated in throughout your life. A life they never got to see.

"When was Y/n's last performance?" He asked bluntly, getting straight to the point.

Dick glanced at Bruce for a moment before looking back down at your desk. He moved some of the papers around before he found the most recent one and looked over to his father with a raised brow.

"About a week ago, why?"

Bruce looked back down at the notebook in his hand, eyes scanning over the date again before he closed it. Looking back at Dick, he asked another question.

"Have you seen Y/n around?"

Dick grew quiet at that, and after a moment he just sighed and shook his head.

"No, I can't say I have." It was only then did he catch what Bruce may have been thinking, "You don't think they-"

"It's a possibility. We can't be too sure just yet," Bruce just wanted to hold onto his hope that you were still here, and even if the chance was small he was willing to take it. He didn't want to believe that they had pushed you so far away that you would not only consider leaving, but actually went ahead and did it. He wanted to be doubtful, but he couldn't rule out anything. Not yet.

"Just keep looking, I'll go ask the others." Bruce stated as he placed the notebook back in the box and headed out the room.

"Keep looking? For what?! Other events we missed? More ways we ignored them? Things they did without us?!"

To say Dick's guilt was eating away at him would be an understatement. It was practically devouring him at this point, and he could just barely take it.

Bruce paused at the doorframe, sighing as he looked back at Dick, "Any hints or clues to where they could be. Favorite spots they might frequent, places where their lessons were held, people they know, anything." He left him with that, causing Dick to just run a stressed hand through his hair as he took a breath.

Worry and regret heavily weighed down on him, but all he could do was carry it for now. He'd make it up to you somehow. He would, and he'd finally get to hear that song one way or another.

As Dick started his search, so did Bruce.

Bruce did a general search around the house, looking for anyone he came across while also trying to look for you. He thought that if he was lucky, he'd run into you. Even if the possibility was small, it could still happen — or he hoped so anyway.

Just this once, Bruce really hoped for the best.

Though, he did end up running into someone, even if it wasn't who he was looking for.

"Woah, someone looks serious. What's got your bat panties in a twist?" Jason asked, amused, "Actually, wait, don't tell me. I don't c-"

"Have you seen Y/n?" Bruce cut Jason off, getting straight to the point.

The sudden question confused Jason as he gave Bruce a weird look, some of his amusment still remaining but it began to die down a bit.

"No... why?"

Bruce took a breath, fingers twitching, "Do you know where they could be?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?" Jason's own confusion began to take over, his amusement continuing to die down, "Seriously, did something happen? Why are you suddenly looking for them?"

Bruce took a moment, just looking at Jason before he sighed.

"When was the last time you saw them?"

"... A few days ago..." Jason glanced off to the side.

"Jason."

"Okay, okay! Fine. I don't fucking know! A few weeks ago? Maybe?!" He answered, getting agitated already. "I'm barely here enough as it is, how am I supposed to know where they are!"

Again, Bruce took in another breath, but there was something about it that Jason didn't like. Maybe he inhaled too sharply or deeply — Jason wasn't sure, but all he knew was that he wasn't going to like what Bruce was about to say.

"Dick hasn't seen them either."

"And that's supposed to be a surprise, how? He lives all the way in Bludhaven, of course he isn't going to see Y/n. 'Cause they live here-"

"I haven't seen them."

"..." That was a little more surprising, but just a little more. It still couldn’t mean anything... right?

"With all the shit you do, I would be surprised if you even saw them on a semi-regular basis." Jason crossed his arms, still not convinced — not entirely anyway. Yet Bruce could only exhale softly, the action bothering Jason even more.

"It's just a possibility. I'm trying to find them. Think you can help out?" Bruce clarified before asking. Additional help would definitely be great, especially because it meant that they could find you faster. He could find you faster.

"What makes you think I'm gonna do that?"

"Did know that Y/n wrote a song that's a tributed to you?"

"... What."

Bruce sighed, "You don't have to do it because I asked you to, or even because I want to find them. You can do it for yourself, Jason. But I'll leave that decision to you." Then, he just walked off to continue his search for you, and the other occupants of the Manor. Leaving Jason by himself, alone...

"That bitch-" Jason cursed under his breath as he walked off, deciding that he'll help look. Though only so he could ask you if Bruce was bullshiting him or not, and not for any other reason...

... Wait, you wrote songs? Like, actually?

Jason just shook his head, already upset enough as he shoved the thought to the side. When he found you he could ask, and how hard could that be? The Manor was only so big, and besides, you were just one person. He could probably find you before Bruce if he just looked in the right places, but the only thing now was finding those places...

Okay, so maybe he saw the problem, but still. This couldn't be too hard. You were the only one in the whole family who wasn't a vigilante, and so it was only about a matter of time.

Nevertheless, Jason began looking around as well, trying to figure out where he should look as he mindlessly checked every other room he came across. Where would you even go anyway? He'd probably check your room first but he figured that Bruce had already checked there, and it wasn't like Jason knew where your room even was. Though he just chalked that up to how infrequent his incredibly short visits were.

Still, he didn't even know where to start, and would rather avoid searching the entire Manor if he could. He tried to scratch his brain for anything but he just... had no idea.

Well, okay, he had one idea, but that was only because of one night. Even then he's still not sure it was you who he saw on the-

["Master Y/n? Are you alright?"]

Jason's thought process was cut off by a sudden voice. He immediately recognized it as Alfred's, and a realization hit him. Right! He should look for Alfred first, he'd know where you are. Alfred practically knew everything about everyone in the Manor, so he'd lnow something for sure.

So, he followed the sound until he stood in the doorway of one of the lounges. The television was on and playing some kind of recording, but Jason paid no mind to it.

Confused, Jason called out, "Alfred?"

When he didn't receive a response, he huffed as his eyes drifted to the television. What was playing, anyway?

You — a smaller, younger version of you — stood in a door way, looking out in the hall before turning back to the camera. Big, innocent eyes looking up. Looking at Jason.

You couldn't have been no older than eight or nine.

[You gave a little nod with a small hum, "I'm okay, Alfred. Just... waiting, like you said."]

A small, soft huff could be heard from the other end of the camera, and the camera moved to be placed down a counter of some kind. Which revealed Alfred to be the one having been recording everything so far.

["Yes, well. How about we do a little something while we wait, hm?" Alfred asked, moving a stool closer to the counter — moving the camera again to be placed on the kitchen isle this time.]

Ingredients and tools used for baking could be seem on the counter. The stool Alfred had place was next to where he was standing, and a good distance away from the stove.

[You looked at Alfred curiously, "What are we going to do?"]

["Oh, nothing too much, Master Y/n. But... I do require a bit of assistance baking this cake, that is if you'd like to help, of course." Alfred patted the top of the stool as he spoke, "Though you can always just watch, if you'd like."]

[You perked up at what Alfred said, climbing up onto the stool enthusiastically with a smile. "I wanna help!" You exclaimed, looking over the ingredients before looking back at Alfred, "But... what cake are we making?"]

[Alfred hummed, pretending to think before be looked back down at you, "Well, what kind of cake would you like, Master Y/n? It is your birthday after all."]

["Really?" When Alfred nodded, you gasped excitedly before suggesting your favorite flavor at the time.]

["Well then, let's get started, shall we?"]

From there, the rest of the recording was of you and Alfred baking. With Alfred helping you when he had to, and laughing lightly when you would inevitably make a mess.

Laughs and jokes were exchanged, and it was probably the happiest Jason has ever seen you... which made him feel weird in a way. He didn't like it, not one bit, and yet he continued to watch the old, wholesome memory play out before him.

Jason watched as you got a bit of flour on your nose and how Alfred wiped it off. He watched as while Alfred was deciding on the shape of the cake, you gathered all the different colors and types of sprinkles you could find, and was looking at a particular color of food coloring. How you nearly fell trying to grab the food coloring, and how Alfred just narrowly managed to catch you. How after that, Alfred visibly recovered from the near heart attack he had gotten from watching you fall, and just watched you add the food coloring to the frosting after you had thanked him for catching you, and apologized for falling.

... It got Jason thinking, if only a little bit.

He didn't know much about you, not really anyway. Even if his visits were few and far inbetween, not to mention incredibly short, someone would think that he'd catch onto a few things about you, or just generally have more interactions with you, but he didn't. All he really knew was that you knew how to play the violin really well, but that was assuming that who he saw that night really was you. Even if he doesn't know who else it'd be.

Jason still remembered that one occurrence despite how long it's been since then... but that was for a different time. He had to focus now, but he still couldn't help but watch the little version of you trying to frost the cake without being too messy, but failing miserably.

It did get him thinking about how many small moments he had missed with you, and just... how little time he had actually spent around you.

Obviously, you weren't a little kid anymore. After all, the last time he remembered seeing you — you were already a teenager. Though was that really a good thing? Jason did remember having some kind of interaction with you in the past... but it wasn't much of anything, and even then he probably forgot half of those moments. What definitely didn't help is that you both didn't have each other's phone numbers, and the only form of communication you had was seeing each other in person.

.... Okay, maybe this whole 'finding you' thing was definitely a lot harder than Jason had originally thought.

["... Are they going to come, Alfred?" You asked, sitting in front of the cake you and Alfred had just made together, looking up at the camera that Alfred was holding once again.]

[Alfred didn't respond right away, but did eventually say, "I'm afraid not, Master Y/n, but if you'd like we could wait a little longer."]

[You shook your head, looking at the cake before looking back at the camera, "It's okay. We can blow out the candles now, but..." you hesitated, looking down at the table, "could you... stay with me? Please?" You looked away, embrassed for asking but didn't take back what you said.]

[Again, a soft huff came from the other end of the camera. "Of course, Master Y/n."]

After a short happy birthday song, the camera was placed down on the table as Alfred cut the cake. It was only after Alfred had given both you and himself a slice did the footage cut out.

Nothing could describe the face you made when Alfred said that no one was coming. Just like how Jason couldn't even begin to describe what it made him feel.

Even when a new recording started, he could hardly pay attention to it as all he saw was your face staring up at the camera. Expression not necessarily sad or upset, but it was easily the most heartbreaking thing Jason had ever seen. A kid shouldn't have a face like that. You shouldn't have a face like that.

Jason was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Cassandra trying to get his attention, nor did he feel her even pull on his sleeve. All he could think of was you, sitting at that table all by yourself. Alone.

He just turned the other way, practically stomping down the hall as he looked straight ahead, glaring.

He had to find you. Now.

Cass, on the other hand, was just confused. Watching as Jason stormed off before looking back at the recording that was playing on the television. What about it had made Jason sp upset? She didn't know, but she was a bit curious.

Bruce had already confronted her and asked her where you were, and of course she didn't know either. He did mention something about how Damian was trying to help a little, which was a surprise in itself, and how Jason might be trying to search for you too, and had asked her if she could do the same. She agreed, of course, just wanting to help out, but having run into Jason just now? That was... odd. Especially when he suddenly stormed off like that, but that wasn't her main focus right now. She still had to-

["Are you still trying to record this, Alfred?"]

Wait... was that your voice?

Cassandra turned back to the television, only to see the camera pointed towards the floor.

["Of course, Master Y/n. Just give me one moment, I almost have the camera set up."]

Oh, Alfred was there too? What was going on?

[Light laughter was heard before you spoke again, "Here, let me help you."]

The camera began to move, and as it paned up, there you were. A soft smile on your face, shining colored hues looking at the camera as you made a few more adjustments before stepping away.

Now, you definitely looked like a teenager or young adult. Voice more matured and settled, almost calm in a way.

["There. That should be good, what do you think?" You asked Alfred, tilting your head to the side a bit, most likely looking at the butler.]

["I have to agree, Master Y/n. Everything should be working properly." Alfred then came into frame, moving towards the counter as you moved around the kitchen isle to follow him. "Now, what is it that you wanted to make this year?"]

["Oh! Right, well..." and you told him, already grabbing a few necessarily ingredients from around the kitchen.]

It wasn't long before the two of you started baking again, but this time around you were clearly more experienced than your younger self — not that Cass was aware of that anyway. You both did your own parts, working exceedingly well together as the conversation between the two of you was nothing but natural.

Cass never saw you talk so naturally, or even knew you could bake, but there were a lot of things she didn't know about you.

She could see that in the footage, you were really relaxed and happy. Almost at ease as you skillfully moved about, as if knowing the necessary steps to make what you were hoping to bake by heart, and how you navigated the kitchen made it look as if you almost knew it as well as Alfred did. It was almost refreshing to see you just be so... in tune with your surroundings, and Cass almost wished she had been there to see you bake for herself. Though she could settle watching footage of you bake for now.

Even if she didn't know why you were even baking in the first place until Alfred mentioned something about a gift for your Birthday, and how that led you to talking about some of the things your friends had given you.

This was... your birthday? Just you and Alfred?

That didn't feel right... but then again, she didn't even know when your birthday was to begin with — and now that she thinks about, had you ever celebrated Christmas with everyone? As a whole family?

... She wasn't sure.

["Are you certain that you don't want to wait, Master Y/n? You never know, someone could show up this time." Alfred asked, looking at you with slight concern.]

[You only smiled, "I'm sure. Besides, even if any of them did come, we both know that it'd be on accident." You laughed lightly to yourself, looking down at the pastry both you and Alfred had made together. "I doubt they even know when my birthday is, but that's okay." You looked back at Alfred, your smile still happy but... there was something off with it.]

["I've told you before, haven't I? You're all the company I need in this house. I'm happy just spending my birthdays like this with you." You took a piece of the pastry and ripped it off before holding it in the air, as if doing a toast, and held it toward Alfred. "So, happy birthday to me?"]

[Alfred sighed softly, but could only smile as he took his own piece of the pastry, copying your actions as he held the piece toward you, "Happy birthday, Master Y/n."]

The footage cut right after, and suddenly Cass found herself in a similar position that Jason had been in just a few moments ago. Just staring at the screen, unsure what to do with this new information, the weight on her chest growing.

Had you really spent every birthday like that? If so... then why didn't you tell anyone? Or had you tried, only for nothing to come of it?

The thought alone hurt, strangely enough, and all Cass wanted to do was... well. She wasn't sure.

She wanted to do so many things, and yet she didn't know if anything would work. Or if anything she could do would fix... well, anything at all.

She wanted to try your baking and... and celebrate a birthday with you. Or maybe she just felt obligated to do so after having seen the recording, but a big part of her did mean it. Especially because she didn't want you to feel alone or anything ever again, not after seeing the extent it went to. Though perhaps there was some irony in that thought that Cass failed to realize.

Regardless, Cass found herself walking off too. Completely missing the figure who turned off the television, and unplugged the camera from it that held all of the footage both her and Jason were shown.

Cass was practically speed walking as she checked the library — remembering have seen glimpses of you in there before — while Jason checked the music room, only for both to turn up equally empty. Yet they kept looking. Everyone did.

Dick tried calling and texting you while trying to see if there was anywhere you could be outside of the Manor. Tim ended up helping as he ran into Dick, and was basically locating and tracking down all the places you've been to with the help of your notebooks and awards in your room. All the while listening to some very earlier pieces you've wrote and played on the mp3 player he found in your box.

Bruce was still looking all over the Manor for you, each minute that passed making him more paranoid and worried. What started as a small possibility was growing into a certainty and he did not enjoy that at all. Damian had decided to search for Alfred, since it seemed like the smartest choice if they wanted to end this quickly. Yet when he did find Alfred and asked him where you were, it turned out that Alfred didn't know where you were either.

While yes, he did know some of the teachers and coaches you've had in the past, he didn't know where you were at this exact moment. How could that be? It was simple, really.

Alfred hadn't seen you in a while either, and once that little piece of information spread around the family... what followed after could only be described as chaos.

The Manor was practically flipped upside down as Bruce, Damian, Jason, and Cass searched for you. Not a single room went unchecked, and when they still came out empty handed, their own worries began to fuel each others.

Dick was the first one to suit up and head out, already calling Barbara as night fell on Gotham, with Tim beginning to suit up — yet Jason had beat him to the punch and was out the second the Manor was cleared. Cass was next to follow, with Bruce and Damian not following too far behind. Tim only left after informing Stephanie — and after downloading some of your songs — and telling Alfred to keep a look out just in case you came back home.

In just a few hours, what started as an unusually uneventful and calm, quiet day for the family, quickly turned into one of the most panicked induced searches and painful night of their lives.

All because of you.

---------

You were tuning your guitar calmly, tapping your foot to the melody playing in your head as you hummed. The silence surrounding you was peaceful for a chance, and didn't feel suffocating or as unnerving as the silence in the Manor did.

Honestly, it took a bit of getting used to but after a few weeks you had grown to love it. Waking up everyday and having someone there to not only greet you, but actually acknowledge you also took a bit of getting used to, but you managed much more easily with that.

Sure, there were other things as well, but you eased into it and had come to accept these small things as just parts of your new life. Yet, you still found yourself appreciating and noticing the smallest things, and almost crying over them too.

It had been a few months since you had left the Manor, and honestly you couldn't be happier.

You now shared an apartment with one of your closets friends, and your career helped you cover your half of the rent, as well as other expenses. You had truly found comfort with this new lifestyle, and even if you'd like to move out of Gotham one day — you could settle for this for now.

This, you believed, was what peace truly felt like.

Even when your phone started to go off like crazy — you just took one look at who it was and rolled your eyes, putting your phone on silent as you placed it face down on the table in front of you. You didn't know what Dick and Tim needed so badly, but you were sure they'd be able to figure it out themselves. After all, they were the sons of the world's greatest detective, right? They could handle themselves.

So you just leaned back into your couch, sighing softly as you mindlessly strummed away at your guitar, smiling a little to yourself when the tune was just right. Creating a melody came all too naturally to you, and all you did was carry it on — humming softly as countless ideas filled your head. A small song beginning to form, even if unintentionally.

A song that went on — with the suffering of Gotham going on in the background. The city being cleared out and searched by the vigilantes that dared to protect it, all of it being done just to look for one person. You.

The shouts and screams served as the base, with the shattering of glass and bones being the lower kick, perhaps. The heart beat serving as the tempo, and so on.

So, just as you had years ago, you played on. Calm and happy in your own little world, unaware of the horrors to come — and destruction being made in your name.

–––––

Well, that's long, isn't it?

Might be making a another post that kind of details what some of the others did before everything went to hell? We'll see. Maybe.

Sorry again for any mistakes, especially towards the halfway point/end there.

#platonic yandere batfam #yandere batman #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #honestly this is probably the longest post i've ever made

[lokischocolatefountain]

Denial || Men Like Me

Part 2 of the Men Like Me series. Part 1

Masterlist

Fandom: The Last of Us Pairing: Joel Miller x Virgin!Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: girthy age gap, virgin!reader, eventual loss of virginity (not in this chapter), masturbation (male & female), cis fem reader, descriptions of reader's body, somewhat creepy!Joel, fetishization of youth, dom!Joel, Joel ignores you until he can't, slightly insecure reader, very insecure Joel, corruption kink, mild fem!dom, reader turns the tables a little, name calling, fetishization of virginity, face fucking (not the mouth, but cheek), kneeling, stripping, moneyshot, fingering, sexual discoveries. Word count: 10.4k Summary: After your steamy encounter, Joel ignores you out of guilt, leaving you feeling unworthy. But you make a discovery that makes you turn the tables on him. A/N: The reception that chapter 1 got gave me enough serotonin to keep me going, you guys. I hope everyone likes this chapter at least half as much if not as much as the first one. Even the half would give me a lot of joy. And do say hi in my inbox or my asks. I would loooove to talk about these two. As always, pleaaaaaase give me reblog and/or a comment to recharge my writing batteries. Most importantly, a big thanks to @tobuildahomeinthewoods because the smut part was from their idea in the last chapter's comments .

“Long day, huh?” 

“What?” you asked, your brain taking a second too long to process the words. “Yeah. Yeah, yeah,” you said, going back to your glass of whiskey. 

“I heard about the kids. They gotta be more careful,” Tommy said, looking to his brother for some kind of confirmation. Joel nodded hesitantly, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he traced the rim of his glass with his middle finger. So cavalier like he didn’t fuck you with that very finger. Asshole. 

“Yeah, yeah. Climbing trees is not wise,” you agreed, willing yourself to look away from his brother. You didn’t want to get caught staring, or worse glaring. The chatter of the dinner crowd at the Tipsy Bison drowned into the sound of you tapping your fingers on the wood counter of the bar. You got up abruptly, the bar stool going down from the force of your actions. You bent over to pick it up, a hand moving to your chest instinctively to keep from flashing everyone. With no such protection for your ass, you could feel familiar eyes on them. Eyes that you’d become accustomed to having on you no matter the distance. 

“You ok–” Tommy began, but you cut him off.

“You have a good one, Tommy,” you said, grabbing your bag from the bar counter and slinging it over your shoulder. “I gotta go. I’m really tired.” 

Like the fool that you were, you picked your glass up and downed the rest of the whiskey, your throat rejecting the choice with a cough that had you spit out half of the burning liquor. Great. Now you’d have to wash your scrubs before going to bed so it didn’t stain. Fucking great. 

There were some protests from the younger Miller brother, some words of concern. But you ignored him as you hurried out of the Tipsy Bison and into the night. At least one of the Millers had some manners. And it wasn’t the one that broke into your house and showed you what a clitoris was. It was fucking embarrassing that he was ignoring you after that. Even more embarrassing that you had to learn it from a random guy when you were the one poring over anatomy textbooks trying to become a doctor. You should know anatomy better than anyone else. Your mentor should’ve taught you. You’d learned how to conduct a safe childbirth. Even been allowed to close up the last c-section patient. But you didn’t fucking learn how the baby got in there. 

Alright well, you did. But you hadn’t been told about some of the especially sensitive parts of the body that would be involved in the process. 

You tossed your bag on your couch, got yourself some cookies that you traded for last week and climbed up the stairs to your bedroom. It wasn’t a nutritious dinner, but it filled your tummy. It came in handy when you didn’t want to spend time chopping vegetables and boiling pasta or whatever the hell you had to do to cook. 

Your bedroom had become your prison in the last two weeks. You felt trapped, unable to see beyond it. How could you, when it ironically was right here that you found freedom? 

Even as you did something as mundane as eating cookies on bed and spilled crumbs on your sheets like a child, the chair in front of your dressing table was in sight. From where you sat, you could see very clearly the scratch on the black paint that revealed the light wood underneath. Evidence of how you had to hold on to dear life as Joel worked your pussy expertly. Like he knew it as well as he knew the tools of his trade. Like weaving his fingers between your folds was as familiar to him as it was for you to weave through skin with your suture needle and thread.

You felt yourself dripping at the mere memory of his thick fingers pumping away inside you, unraveling the fibers of your being. The sight of him at the bar– his finger tracing the rim of the glass– it took you to the memory of that very finger teasing your pussy.

The pornographic magazines, the entertainment for men, no longer saw the light of day from their box under your bed. Pictures of nude women you wanted to model yourself after in order to be attractive to men no longer sufficed. All you strived for now was to be attractive to him. To be strung like a puppet in his hands while all he seemed to want was to get away from any place where you were. 

You felt a pang in your chest as you recalled the first time you went to the house of worship after your time with Joel to find that he’d been replaced with the younger Miller. Tears stung in your eyes as you felt rejected by his absence. Like he no longer wanted to be in the same room as you, hammer nails into wood as you spoke to your fellow townspeople about their wellbeing. You told yourself it was just a temporary thing. That the brothers just liked to alternate shifts and he would return soon to fix the windows that shattered during a storm in the winter. 

He never came. 

You’d never experienced such rejection before. You’d never wanted before. To want was to risk rejection, to feel the pit in your stomach as you felt now. You never wanted to feel less than, undesirable, unwanted. So you pulled away from all the men you dated. If you could even call that dating. Maybe it was your own fault for thinking it would be easier with Joel. What did you think? That he would fold immediately because you showed off your legs and touched his arm and pushed your breasts out to present your femininity? 

Naive, stupid girl. 

“Been experiencing longer than you’ve been alive, Ma’am.” 

Something twisted in your belly and you lied down, pulling your covers over you as though it would contain the shame coursing through you. 

You probably looked silly to him, like a little girl playing adult. Like a kitten picking a fight with a lion. Less than half his age, just a fucking preschooler on outbreak day when he would’ve been a fully grown man. Maybe already beginning to gray, the skin by his eyes crinkled from the years he spent smiling at and wooing women. Why would he want a girl? He’d want a real woman. Someone like Tommy’s wife, perhaps. Someone he wouldn’t have to teach.

“Don’t know your own fucking body but you want a man?” his taunt rang cold in your ear, sending chills down your spine like he was still behind you, fingers buried deep inside the most intimate part of you. You pressed your thighs together, heat pooling between them as it always happened when you thought of what he did to you. 

Shame didn’t deter you as you brought your fingers to your pussy, brushing one against your clit with curiosity. With fear. It felt so good, like its sole purpose went beyond the animal need to survive and propagate. You bypassed it to touch your weeping slit, more comfortable with what you were already used to for carnal pleasure.

Your own fingers had always been enough. Out in the wilderness when you needed to release pent up energy. After long days at the clinic and sharing notes with the other students. When you were tired to the point where you couldn’t sleep. Your fingers always took you to where you needed. You were always satisfied.  

Not anymore. 

You whined as the different angles you tried failed to work. The physical pleasure was the same. But not quite like how it felt with him. His hand was larger, his fingers longer and thicker. He showed you sports inside you that you’d never been able to touch yourself. Maybe this was what people meant when they said ignorance was bliss. Knowledge of pleasure you could have but couldn’t give yourself was torture.

As much as you resented Joel now, you couldn’t help but conjure images of him as you brought yourself closer to release. His deep brown eyes, his large hand that he wrapped around your throat, the way he carried you from your chair and deposited you on your bed. Like a human being weighed nothing to him. Like you were his toy that he could bury his fingers in, play with and set aside when he was done, when he was bored. Entertainment for Men came to your mind again and you cried like you never had at your own touch. 

Your thighs trembled as you imagined yourself as one of those women in the magazines, but only for him. Entertainment for Joel. Splayed out on the center page for him to look at and fuck his hand to. You wouldn’t mind being tangible entertainment. Laid out on his bed, limbs arranged in an attractive manner for him, so he could access whatever part of your body he wanted to play with. To be bent to his will and fucked, to be used, given an affectionate pat on your pussy and put away when you’d outlasted his needs only to be given attention when he wanted to get off the next time. 

You shook uncontrollably, your eyes squeezed shut and the world went blank as you reached your peak. You pulled your spare pillow to your chest, needing some physical comfort after experiencing such a high. You wished it were him instead of an inanimate object. That he would make you feel good and hold you and kiss you all over. That he would stay when you woke up the next day and do it all over again. 

Once the haze of your orgasm cleared up, you cringed at the feelings it had brought out of you. How stupid… Wanting a man who broke in, fucked you with his fingers, and began ignoring you like you did something horrible to him. Fuck Joel Miller and fucking his stupid fucking face. As he said, there were other men in the town. Men who wouldn’t ignore you.

⌘

“How are the windows lookin’?” 

“Fixed ‘em up in time for the cold winds. No thanks to you, fuckin’ asshole.” 

“Sorry. Y’know I ain’t the church going type.” It wasn’t a lie. He wasn’t the church kind before Sarah died and he certainly wasn’t anymore. That the young aspiring doctor he fingered in her bedroom was the real reason behind him swapping work would remain his secret.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tommy grumbled, playing with the now cold fries on his plate. “It ain’t a church, by the way. Maria keeps correctin’ me. It’s the house of worship.” 

Joel rolled his eyes at that. He got the reasoning behind it. The town had people who believed in different Gods and had different religions. Calling the place a Church would be as unfair as calling it a– whatever, he didn’t know any other kind of place for worship. But it still pissed him off when his little brother came to him and went on about something his wife said.

Go off and do whatever your wife tells you, motherfucker.

No matter how he tried, the snide voice in his head that hated Maria never went away. He never said anything to her or Tommy. Maria was decent to him too, unlike the time he first arrived with Ellie. She trusted him with Miles. Invited him and Ellie over to family dinners. But they kept their interactions to a minimum, as though there’d been a silent agreement that it was best they kept it civil so as to not sow discord in the family. 

“Whatever. No point in worshiping, be it Jesus or whatever stuff they got goin’ these days.”

A shudder went down his spine, triggered by the talk of religion. As it became colder, Ellie had begun to revert to the empty shell of a child she was after the events in Colorado. There’d been grifters in the past hiding behind religion to cheat people out of their money, to damage children irreparably while preaching the word of God. The end of the fucking world somehow didn’t stop them from going on. Didn’t stop people from believing that an all-knowing, all-powerful guy in the sky was still watching and would protect them. 

If what protected people was God, guns were God. And Molotov cocktails. Sharp rocks and shoelaces.

Ellie didn’t tell him much, but from what he could piece together, it was a religious group with one guy leading them. And they were fuckin’ cannibals. Sounded like a goddamn cult.

“It’s a nice place to meet people,” said Tommy, snapping him out of his descent into the void of the recent past. 

Joel simply snorted and took a sip of his glass of water. He couldn’t handle his alcohol like he used to. Age and that he had been off his usual cocktail of oxy and whiskey for a long time now. He had to resort to having a lot of water to sober himself up after the occasional evening drinks with Tommy. 

“What? It is! I go there, catch up with everyone in town. Usually people go there when they’re going through some shit. It makes them feel conscious if you visit their house. So I just run into ‘em at the Chu– house of worship– and I just talk to them about their lives ‘n see if there’s anything I can do for them.” 

“Guess you’re right,” he said, slotting his thumbnail in the ridges on the bar counter absentmindedly, scraping off bits of the old softening wood. 

He could go again. Only so many days he could ignore you. But the reminder of the shame coursing through his veins when he saw you this evening made him shake the thoughts off. There was no way he could be anywhere you were without shriveling up and dying of embarrassment. 

You were so young.

Relatively unblemished by the world. A fuckin’ virgin. Never known the touch of a man and moaning his name as you touched yourself. 

Nope, nope, nope. Shouldn't have gone there, he thought as he felt himself hardening in his pants. Shouldn’t his dick be non-functional by now? He was dangerously close to sixty and spent a good two decades without adequate nutrition. Shouldn’t that be enough to turn his dick limp forever?

“Come over tomorrow, then. We’re doin’ a little memorial thing in the back of the house of worship. That young doctor’s idea, actually. She put the idea forward at the last council meeting. Thinks it’ll help people to have something physical to remember their people by.” 

Young, sweet, and so fucking thoughtful. 

Not meant for men like him.

Yet he went the next day. 

The topic of Sarah hung in the air around him and Tommy like a fog beyond which they couldn’t see. It sat heavy in his chest, the memory of his baby and worse, everything his shit brain had forgotten. He remembered that she gave him shit, mocked him over everything. But she didn’t have a voice in his head anymore. He could describe the sweetness of her voice, but it no longer sounded out in his mind. No matter how hard he tried. 

Her favorite color was purple and she loved soccer. He couldn’t recall the name of her team. She loved reading. He didn’t remember her favorite author. She liked animated movies. He couldn’t remember a single one. Just the vague memory of her falling asleep on his lap as cartoon characters chirped away on tv. Even her face was beginning to blur. When he recalled her features, it was only through images of the last seconds of her life.

“We could just do alphabetical order. Simple.” 

“Not really,” you said, scribbling lines on the paper. “We get new people in the town sometimes and we don’t want the names they add to stand out, away from the alphabetically ordered list. Might make them feel bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right. What about age?” Tommy suggested. 

“Still the same problem. It would force newcomers to have their own separate list at the bottom.” 

“How about a first come first serve system? We tell people when we’re taking names down for the memorial and they can come over, form a queue and give us the names they want included. That way, people can keep the names of the people they love in one spot on the memorial instead of having it scattered all over because of age or alphabetical order.” 

“What do you think, Joel?” Tommy asked, making him fold his arms over his chest and sigh. He didn’t give a shit. But that wasn’t the most amicale thing to say when someone was trying to do an objectively good deed. Unlike the other people in this town, he didn’t deserve to add the names of his people to a memorial. He failed in protecting them. He didn’t deserve to mourn like he wasn’t the reason they went into early graves. 

“Yeah, ‘s good. I agree.” He said, finding no faults with your proposal to order the names of the deceased by the order in which people gave it to ‘em. He didn’t know why he was being asked all this. It wasn’t like he was on the council like them. He was just takin’ measurements when he got dragged into this. 

“How many names do you think we’ll get?” Tommy asked him in yet another attempt to get him involved. 

Taking pity on his brother, he began a rough estimate of the number of names they’d get for the memorial and how much surface area they’d need for carving them in. “Six hundred people in town. Babies don’t have names to give. Kids wouldn’t have too many and if they had any, it would be on their parents’ list too. How many kids in this town?”

It was a fucking nightmare, sitting there at the table with you and doing calculations when all he wanted was to throw you over his shoulder and take you back to his place. Make you pose like you were posing in front of your mirror that day. Like women in those porno magazines he sneaked into his teenage bedroom and jerked off to. The fuck were you even thinking? Door left open, tits out, fingers in your cunt and his fucking name on your lips. 

Did you notice him at your door and decided it would be a fun trick to play on an old man? Or did you always scream his name when you fucked yourself? When was the first time? Did you always come so prettily on your own fingers like you came on his? Being in the dark drove him crazy. But part of him felt that getting the answers would drive him absolutely fucking insane. 

The thought alone was enough to make him feel uncomfortable in his pants. He adjusted himself on his seat and looked away from you, afraid that somehow you’d be able to tell that he was having improper thoughts about you when you were talking about honoring the dead. If thinking about you sexually in a church was bad, he was sure it was worse to think it when you were trying to help people memorialize their dead.

You had an air of innocence about you. The brightness of your eyes and the way you moved your hands about as you planned the details of this memorial and scribbled them out on your little notebook. He’d been attracted to that innocence from the very start. A rare thing to find out in the world. When even babies were born into violence and oppression, innocence was a luxury no one even thought to acquire. 

A virgin, too. 

His cock twitched in his pants. He gulped and looked around to check if anyone had caught his shameless response. Nope. 

He was surprised you were a virgin. For all your innocence, you were also fucking beautiful. There were plenty of guys in town. Ladies too, if you liked that. Anyone would’ve snatched you up quick and made sure to show you a world of pleasure. It didn’t take him long knowing you to give in to temptation. It was fucking impossible that no man had worshipped with his head between your thighs. That no man who saw you in your pretty little dresses bent you over and filled you up with his cock.

You were beautiful. Even more so when you came on his fingers. Made all those pretty little sounds. The way you said his name… Nobody had said it like that in such a long time. Not even Tess. 

It rang in his head whenever he found himself alone at home. Being in possession of your panties didn’t help matters. White cotton. Innocent. Covered in your dried up release. When he left that day, he made sure to suck on his fingers. Moaned like a fucking creep while going down your stairs. Eyes closed, he could still taste you on his tongue. After so many days. A little tangy with a hint of salt from your sweat and all woman. 

It had been embarrassingly long since he felt like a man. He’d been father, brother, smuggler, and father again. But long since he was just man. Never someone desirable. Out there, sex was just for release. Purely biological. The end of the fucking world did not afford good hygiene. You fucked someone because they were the safest option. Not because you were attracted to them.

You, however… You had others in this town. You were here before him. Younger, smarter, with a body that worked perfectly fucking well. You could have anyone but it was his name you were moaning out in the privacy of your room. 

He grunted as your voice crept back into his mind. The ‘Joel, please’, and the ‘Sir’. 

He grabbed on to the railing as his thighs trembled, afraid he would have an embarrassing fall. His breaths grew quicker and his mind void of everything but you. 

On your knees. On your back. On your front so he could fuck you from behind. Your hand around his cock. Your lips stretched out around him as you struggled with his size. Fistful of your hair as you begged for release. Please, Sir. Please, Joel.  The heat of your tight velvety cunt. Tears blurring your wide eyed innocence as he stretched out your rear hole. He wanted to take you everywhere, leave you burning with him. Mark you so deep every man you let in after you would know who fucked you first.

It didn't take long. The mental images of you were far too effective. His last time was too long ago. He was too old to last. Too old to want you. Somehow the reminder only pushed him further along. Sticky white cum coated your panties, mixing your scent with his. The mirror showed him a reflection of himself. Old, gray, crow’s feet by his eyes. He dropped your panties in the hamper, the warmth of his own release on his hand and the shame on his face sobering him up quickly. 

He wanted to teach you sin. But you had taught him more of it already than you would ever know.

⌘

“Cool jacket, dude!” 

“Uh…thanks. I traded for it years ago” you said, digging your thumb nail between the teeth of the zipper. It didn’t fit perfectly, but it worked well on cold nights that weren’t cold enough to warrant a sweater. “Is Joel in? I need to talk to him about a building project.”

“Yeah,” said Ellie before pressing her lips into a thin line. “I mean, he was awake half an hour ago when I left, but he could be in dreamland by now. Cause he’s old.” 

“Ah. Of course,” you said, smiling awkwardly at the girl. Joel’s kind of, sort of daughter. You were closer to her than Joel in age. You rolled the memorial plan tighter and tighter, your hands needing to be occupied with something as your mind reeled at the inappropriateness of your desires.

“I’ll make sure I don’t wake him up,” you said before leaving the girl to return to her group of friends. 

He was old enough to be your father. It should disgust you, scare you. Maybe it would’ve if you’d had an actual father in your life. A point of reference to know how vile a man of that age would have to be to want a girl your age. You tried to force some disgust into your veins, hoping that would help in putting out the fire in you that threatened to consume you whole. But it was hard to convince yourself that this was wrong when he’d made you feel so good. 

Your fingers had become inadequate overnight. If his fingers were so powerful over you… You shuddered to think what he could do for you with his penis. It had to feel better. The organ was made for it, unlike fingers.

You stopped outside his door and knocked without giving it a single thought. If you’d thought about it, you would’ve fled. It had already taken you hours to muster up the courage to make the walk to his house with the draft sketches for the memorial. You wouldn’t let your desperation ruin it. 

He looked surprised to see you, mouth opening and closing as though he’d forgotten how to process language. His dark brown curls and the silver that decorated it sat messily atop his head. Like he’d run his fingers through it. An old t-shirt stretched over his chest and struggled against his arms. A pair of dark sweatpants sat on his hips, the drawstrings hanging in the front. 

“Hey? Uh…what’s wrong?” he asked, bringing a hand up to his face and scratching his beard. Why was that hot? You had to be out of your fucking mind.

You cleared your throat and looked up into his eyes. “Does something have to be wrong?”

“You’ve never come here, so I thought…” 

“I’m here about the memorial plans. I have a few designs I want to run by you,” you said, holding up the rolled up sheets of paper.

“Ah. That. Sure, uh come in,” he said, opening the door and stepping aside to allow you passage. You looked around his house, careful to seem disinterested so he didn’t have more reasons to think you were a stupid little girl pining after him just because he made you come once. 

Shit. He probably already thought that. 

“A virgin. Pretty young things like you ain’t for men like me.”

You swallowed at the reminder as he led you to the dining table and offered you a seat. You looked around while he cleared the table. Plates, tools, some worn out novels. So he was the messy sort. You didn’t know who you would be if you’d had the chance to just be. You didn’t know if you would leave things lying around like that if you’d had a normal start to life. Like Joel. Like the others who were old enough to remember life before the cordyceps.

The place didn’t scream Joel Miller. There were no personal artifacts decorating his living room. No framed art. No books. No throw pillows or even a blanket on the couch. 

You knew what it was like to have nothing in your house. When you were still new to the town and it hadn’t hit you yet that you were allowed to have your own things. Collect stuff and not worry about having too many things to carry with you when you had to run. You didn’t own anything you couldn’t fit into your backpack. And you took that backpack everywhere when you managed to step outside your new house. 

But over time, you’d decorated your house. People you helped out at the clinic often gave you things as a token of their gratitude. Kids drew pictures for you. A lady once gave you the art off her wall that the previous owner had put up. Tommy and Maria gave you a new sweater that she’d knit when she was pregnant. New yarn from new wool from the town’s sheep. The first time you ever got something truly new. 

“No decorations, huh?” 

“What?”

“You don’t have any decorations here,” you pointed out again and licked your lips nervously.

“Uh, yeah. Not really the priority. Have’ta trade wisely. Can’t be gettin’ pictures when ya need bread.” 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding. “But you don't have to trade for it, you know? You could put up something of what’s in the house already. Surely the previous owners left some stuff.” 

“They did. Traded ‘em all for things we need. Fresh fruits, bullets, that kinda shit.” 

“Well, it doesn’t have to be framed art. You could cut up a nice picture from a magazine or something.” 

Joel looked up from the plans, head tilted and an eyebrow raised. Shit! Of course he thought you were talking about your magazines with the naked women. 

“I didn’t mean it like that!” you said, your voice coming out squeaky. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat and looked down at the plans. 

“Let’s discuss the plans,” he said, his voice all gruff and his tone so stern. 

“I-I- uh… May I use your restroom?” you asked, unable to look him in the eye after what you’d said. After how he’d reacted. You really didn’t mean it like that. But you could see why that would be hard to believe when the last time he saw you, you had a box full of those men’s entertainment magazines on your bed and one open in front of you as you touched yourself. 

Touched yourself and moaned his name. 

“Upstairs, second door to the left.” 

You squeaked out a thanks before you bolted out of his dining room and made your way up the stairs. There were two bathrooms. One decorated with band posters and a poster of a girl with weirdly cut black hair sitting on a motorcycle. Had to be Ellie’s. The second door to the left was another bathroom. Joel’s, apparently. There was just one bar of soap, a toothbrush, and a pot of toothpaste. No shampoo bar. You pulled the toilet seat and lid down before taking a seat. 

You let out a groan and planted your face in your hands. Why the hell did you have to go and make it awkward like it wasn’t already that way. After he made you come that day, he’d refused to be anywhere near you. You hoped it was just coincidence, but after over a week it became undeniable that he was avoiding you. 

He probably thought you were going to catch feelings. A girl in one of the romance novels you read fell in love with a guy who took her virginity. And there was the time you overheard this guy talking about not wanting to sleep with a girl because she was a virgin. He was afraid she would catch feelings and get clingy. 

Now here you were in his bathroom because you thought it was wise to make small talk and ended up insinuating he should put up dirty pictures on his wall. You could scream. But you wouldn’t. There was already enough awkwardness with him. 

You could always jump out of the window and run off to your house. Never speak of this again. Pretend nothing happened if Joel tried to talk to you about it. But something told you that he wouldn’t. He would probably be happy if he never had to interact with you again. You had been acting desperate. He caught you touching yourself moaning his name, for fuck’s sake! 

Your hands, permanently dry from all the times you scrubbed them clean for your patients, found some moisture from your salty tears. It was embarrassing, sitting in the bathroom of a guy who wanted nothing to do with you after you scared him off with your stupid little infatuation. 

You were a grown woman. Still young, but too old to be acting like this. You should have some experience already. Not sniffling over a man more than twice your age. He was right. He had been a grown man with experience longer than you’d been alive. Of course he wanted nothing to do with you. 

The window looked more and more attractive as the seconds passed. It had been a while since you did something like that. You didn’t need to jump out of buildings or trees anymore. You didn’t go on patrols like some residents. With no need to fight for your life and having all the food you could need to never go hungry even once, you’d become a little unfit. If you broke a bone jumping out of Joel’s bathroom window, there would be questions. And everyone would know. You’d have to avoid the whole town instead of just Joel. 

You’d just have to face it. Even if facing it was doing as little as just bidding him goodbye and bolting out of his house without an explanation. You got off his toilet and pressed the flush just so he didn’t think you were weird. Like it fucking mattered. He already found you weird and desperate. 

You washed your hands, letting the water wash away the tears on your hands before wiping your wet hands over your face in an attempt to remove traces of your crying. 

You should’ve just left after that. Not looked around. Not snooped like a creep. You didn’t ever dig. You didn’t have to look too deep to catch it. But a sliver of white peeked out through the netted walls of the laundry hamper. A sliver of white cotton with a light blue stitch. 

Without second thought, you dug into his dirty laundry. You came up with the white cotton fabric, going straight to the gusset where the blue thread stitched the fabric pieces together. The original stitch had given out and you sewed it back together just some time back. The blue thread was all that you had at the time. 

As though the sight of your panties in Joel’s bathroom wasn’t jarring enough, next came the smell. Of you. Your cum. You felt practically hear your own heartbeats as you recalled how he’d cleaned you up with your own panties. You recalled that he stuffed the fabric in his pocket as you lied on your bed, pussy still pulsating from his handiwork, brain melted, and life changed forever. 

You took another whiff of your panties, goosebumps raising the hairs on your body as you felt it. Your cum and something else. It was still damp.

Blood rushed back up to your face and you felt yourself getting tense. 

This fucker. How dare he? You’d been embarrassed just a minute ago over your desires and he was doing this the whole time? Noticing you on the streets and running away for days. Running back to his home where he kept your fucking panties, apparently. Avoiding you for so long only to cum in your panties. 

So he wanted you. 

If not you, he at least wanted sex. Dirrty old man who liked attention from you, but you weren’t even disgusted. Just angry he was pretending to be better than that. He could’ve used any old rag, but he used your panties. 

You brought your defiled panties back up and smelled them again. Strangely, it smelled something like bleach. Or you could be wrong. You’d never… You didn’t know what a man’s release was supposed to smell like. Was it different for each man or did they all smell the same? 

Wetness pooled in your panties as you imagined him touching himself. Large rough hand wrapped around himself. Did he think of you when he did it? Think of you naked in your bedroom and taking his fingers? What did his penis look like? What would it feel like? Soft? Rough? You’d wondered about having one inside you, but never about a particular man’s anatomy. But this was Joel. Joel was the only one who’d gotten this far in your head. 

He couldn’t deny it to you anymore. If nothing else, you could at least call him out for ignoring you when he was wiping his ejaculate off with your stolen panties.

“Joel!” you called out before your fears could talk you out of confronting him. Unsure if he would’ve heard you, you opened the bathroom door and yelled his name out again. “Joel!” 

“What?” 

“Come up here!” 

“What happened?” 

“Just come here.” 

You heard him sigh, the sound followed by the typical grunts and groans he made when standing up. Fuckin’ old man, ruining your life. Ruining your self-confidence. Ruining your fucking panties. His heavy footsteps thudded against the stairs as he climbed up, the sound getting louder as he got closer to the bathroom. 

“Why were you screaming my name like y–” he stopped mid scold, frozen in place by the door as he saw what you had in your hand. He opened and closed his mouth, as though attempting to explain but deciding otherwise. He licked his lips and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking everywhere but at you. 

“Do you not have rags, Joel?” you taunted, taking a step towards him and enjoying seeing him step back. You felt powerful, moving a large man with just your voice. It was very unlike how he made you feel all the days he ignored you. Weak, insignificant, undesirable.

“You weren’t meant to– Fuck, I’m sorry!” 

“Which part are you apologizing for? For breaking into my house and touching me? For ignoring me ever since? For stealing my underwear? Or for doing whatever you did with it?”

You moved him out of the bathroom, making him walk backwards in the hallway you hoped led to his bedroom. Even if it didn’t, you’d be fine. You’d exact revenge in any place you can. As long as you got to make him feel the way he made you feel. Pleasure. Shame. Want. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. I never should’ve—”

You took your last step towards him, finally trapping him against a wall. You stood close enough to place your hand on his chest. You licked your lips, the rock hard muscles beneath your touch storing itself away in your mind for later use. 

“Imagine what would happen if I told someone? You sister-in-law, perhaps… She hates you, doesn’t she?” You smirked, though you were screaming on the inside. You didn’t know where you got all this courage from. You didn’t know you had it in you to threaten a man as imposing as Joel. 

He turned pale, his hands up against the wall in surrender. If you’d asked him, he wouldn’t tell you the truth that it was to keep himself from touching you. “Please don’t tell anyone. I won’t do this again, I swear.” 

“Maybe I want you to do this again…” 

“You don’t. Trust me.” 

“Shh!” You said, placing your index finger on his lips. Pink, perfectly shaped, and so damn kissable. “Don’t tell me what I want. You ignored me ever since you walked into my house without my permission and shoved your fingers inside me. I was walking around town believing I wasn’t good enough for big old Joel Miller. What did you say? That you’ve been experiencing longer than I’ve been alive?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him when he didn’t answer. Then he nodded reluctantly.

“Why were you coming in my panties then if I didn't measure up? ” 

“I won’t do it ag—” he groaned when you grabbed his cock through his pants. He let out a low grunt and his Adam’s Apple bobbed in his neck as he swallowed. You replaced your index finger with your thumb, tracing his trembling lips as you lazily stroked his cock with your other thumb. 

He filled your whole hand and there was still more. It took everything in you to not moan at the sheer size of him. To not grind your belly against it to feel it against you. You didn’t know how big it was supposed to be, but the romance novels you read always described the big ones as more desirable. 

“I don’t want to hear excuses. I asked why. Why did you steal my panties, Joel Miller?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Did you come on it? Don’t fucking lie to me cause I can fucking smell you on it.” 

“I did. I jerked off with it.” You had to choke back a moan at that. No, you had to be strong. Show him you could take the upper hand just like he did with you. You weren’t a little girl with a crush. You were a woman and you could have this effect on a grown man. You refused to be discounted with a pat on your pussy no matter how much you wanted him to touch you like that again. 

“Mmm. And that’s enough to get you going. Just a pair of my panties.” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Show me how you did it.” 

“What?” He asked, eyebrow raised. 

“Show. Me. How you did it.” 

He narrowed his eyes at you, his hand coming up to stroke the base of his neck. “Wh-What?”

You felt your heart thud against your ribs and if you didn’t know from experience and your textbooks, you’d have been afraid that he could hear it. You’d never done anything so daring. You were the timid girl when it came to this stuff. That the thought even occurred to you was a testament to how much you desired Joel. Not just to sleep with any guy, but to have Joel. Without a word, you reached under the skirt of your dress and tugged your panties down. 

He inhaled sharply as you bent down and came back up with your panties. Undyed white fabric, a little green ribbon in the shape of a bow stitched to the front, gusset a light gray from your wetness. 

“Show me. I want to see what you were doing in your bathroom with my panties after ignoring me everyday,” you said, taking his hand and forcing the fabric into it. His hand curled around it and you found yourself feeling lighter. You didn't know how long you could keep up the brave front if he continued to have no response. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

It was like something changed the moment you gave him the garment. His eyes were on you, his gaze unrelenting. He took a step ahead and you stepped backward. His lips curled up in a smirk. It seemed playtime was over… Like a lion letting the cubs play at predation before taking over to show how hunting was really done. 

You didn’t know if you were ready for that… Sure it was nothing he’d never seen before, but it was different. The last time, you didn’t do it with the intention to have him see you. He just happened to see you bare and you didn’t cover up when you realized. 

“I don’t have a box full of dirty magazines. I need to see somethin’,” he said, his eyes going down your frame like they had every right to be there. “Or you could leave these,” he said, holding your panties up in front of your eyes, “and run back home. What d’ya say?”

You swallowed, your hands shaking as you reached behind to find the zipper of your dress. You weren’t going to run off. Not when you’d been desperate for so long to do something, anything with him. Cold air kissed your back as you pulled the zipper down and the hairs on your body stood up in full attention. You pushed the sleeves off your shoulder and shimmied out of the dress, standing in just your dress in front of him. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall. He looked you up and down. He tilted his head as he looked you up and down. He radiated superiority, putting you in some kind of a daze. “Your bra too. Show me your tits.” 

The crudeness had more wetness pooling between your legs. You nodded wordlessly, afraid that pathetic whimpers would be the only sound you’d make under his gaze. You reached behind and felt around for the clasp of your bra. With his eyes piercing into you, you failed to find it quickly like you usually did. Your mouth dried up, your tongue sticking to the roof. 

He made no effort to help. A mocking smile assumed its place on his lips as he watched you struggle in front of him. 

When you finally managed your task and stood fully naked, he stood up straight. His tongue darted out and licked his lips. You felt like a piece of meat placed in front of a starving man. Just seconds ago, you were telling yourself you didn’t need his approval, that this would just be revenge. But as he evaluated your body, your pussy wept with the need for your body to be nothing but what he liked.

“Room’s that way.” He nodded in the direction of the room. You turned around and took small steps, your shoulders curling inward and your head bowed in submission. Every inch of your skin burned with the strength of his gaze. 

“Kneel.” 

You placed your knee on his bed, ready to climb up. 

“On the floor.” 

One knee still on his white sheets, you turned around to look at him. He was so large. Imposing. The kind of figure you would follow without question. So, you did. 

“You look pretty on your knees.” 

He took a few steps towards you, stopping when the distance had your neck straightening to look up at him. Large, powerful, imposing. Another step and you were face-to-face with his crotch. His bulge was right there. 

“Go on, take it out. Since you wanted it so bad.” 

Joel didn’t think you would do it. You looked even smaller kneeling at his feet. Meek little thing. He didn’t at all expect you to taunt him the way you did. Especially after you threatened to tell on him to Maria. He fully expected you to start crying. Guess he really underestimated you. Virgin didn’t necessarily mean innocent. 

Yet you folded as soon as he took the reins. He saw the change in you right when he told you to take your clothes off. When your eyes went from determined to defeated. All that spunk evaporated to reveal the little girl underneath. He liked it like that. Made him feel like a real man. Not that there was any scarcity of masculinity in his life of taking out clickers and defending this town. But somethin’ about a beautiful woman accepting his authority did the trick faster than every other display of masculinity. 

Your hands fiddled with his belt, trembling as you tried to take it off. He stopped you with a hand on your wrist. “Just undo the zip.” 

No way he was going to get naked in front of a pretty little twenty something. It wasn’t anything great to look at even before he began a life of violence and traversing the wilderness. Sure he was well built from all the hard physical labor and constant fight for survival. It’d left several unappealing scars on his person. Time had done a number on him too. Especially his pudgy belly. It didn’t help that food flowed free in Jackson, fattening him up a little. 

Thankfully, you listened. You looked up, as though you expected him to complete the task for him. He challenged you with a look. Wanna be a big girl so bad, act like one.

You reached inside his pants and took his cock out. Your lips parted and he heard you inhale through your mouth. His cock hung in front of him, hard from your teasing. He had to give it to you, you were daring for a meek little thing. No one in town would believe him if he told them all that you’d done. And he suspected he didn’t even know the half of it.

“Not too late to back out, you know?” he said, wrapping his hand around himself. It took everything in him to give you an out. As much as he wanted to grab your face, force your mouth open and make you gag around him, he was man enough to let you know you didn’t have to do anything. Young girl probably bit more than you could swallow. And seeing his cock and your mouth so close by showed that he was definitely nothing you could swallow.

“I’m not backing out.” 

“First time seeing one?” 

“Of course not. I work at the clinic. You think I haven’t seen a penis?” 

“No anatomical terms. I ain’t your patient. Go on, touch my cock.” 

You reached up for him, but he stepped back, delighting himself in the disappointment on your face. “Come on, you want a man so bad, work for it.” 

You moved to stand up. “Did I say you could stand up?” 

“No.” 

“Then get back on your fucking knees.” 

You dropped to your knees and he groaned in satisfaction. The euphoria of wielding power over someone rushed through his veins. And he wanted more. It was the same sick satisfaction he got when he beat men to death. When he broke bones and dressed animals he hunted in the wild. “Good girl. You’re going to listen to what I say. Got it?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Fuck! That fucking word again.

“Come on, come get it. Hands and knees. Crawl to me.” 

He beckoned you forward with one hand, his other still on his cock. You bent over and god fucking damnit, you were a vision. You were an eager girl and he could see what you could become in the right hands. His hands. The things he could show you… Introduce you to your own body. Bring you pain and pleasure that were indistinguishable.

Your tits hung from your chest, swaying as you crawled towards him. Feverish, bright eyes followed him as he continued to refuse what you wanted. Too fucking late. He warned you. Told you men like him weren’t for pretty little things like you. But you didn’t fucking want to listen. Now you’d have to deal with the consequences. Maybe you’d stay away then. 

“Please, Sir,” you whined so prettily he almost gave in. 

“What are you begging for?” 

“You. Y-your penis.” 

“My cock,” he corrected. “Say it.”

“Your cock, Sir.” 

“Good girl. C’mere,” he said, giving you a nod to come closer. You crawled to him and when he didn’t back away, sat up on your knees. He placed his hand on the back of your neck and gripped your hair, making you hiss. Holding you in place, he brought his cock to your face. You looked up at it, your eyes widening and your mouth slackening. You brought your hand up and touched his tip with just your thumb. The rest of your hand followed, wrapping around him. He gasped silently as you stroked his slit with your thumb, making him leak precum on you. 

“Did…? Did you?” 

“No. Gotta do more ‘n that to make me come. That’s precum.” 

“Oh.” 

He didn’t think you knew what precum was. Probably not the focus of your education here. Not the most important thing when townsfolk came in injured after patrols or suffering from a fever that was life threatening without the medicines of the past. 

He pressed his cock against your cheek. The sight presented a visual of how you’d struggle if you took him in your mouth. He’d have you choking on him before you even took half. He twitched against your face at the mere thought. You were the picture of innocence, even with his cock on your face. Even with the stunt you pulled before he put you back in your place. 

“Think I’ll just do this. Fuck your pretty face.” 

You whimpered, spurring him on. He wanted to force himself inside you, punish your mouth for having the gall to speak to him the way you did. Make you cry from how full of him you were. Give you a sore throat so when you spoke to him again, you’d remember to speak with respect. But you wouldn’t be able to handle it. So he’d settle for defiling your sweet features, hold his cock against your cheek and rut like the animal he was.

“I ain’t gonna lay you out on my bed and take you nice and slow. I’m just gonna use you. ‘s what men like me do.”

He pulled away, giving you another opportunity to rethink this. “You can put your fucking clothes on and leave if you don’t like it.” 

To his surprise, you stayed put on your knees. You shook your head before reaching up and rubbing your cheek against his cock. You let out a soft moan, eyes closed and your thighs pressed together tight. “No, no. I like it.” 

“Fuckin’ slut,” he said, his hand back in your hair. He tugged at it and took his cock in his other hand. He tapped your lips with his tip, smearing the precum that leaked out of him. “You like an older man using your face like it’s a pussy?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He snorted, amused. “Never met a virgin slut before. Getting your face fucked before your pussy. Bet you’re wet from this.” 

There was the sweet little whimper from you again. He wanted to hear more of it. Trap you underneath him and make you weep and cry and whimper as he split you in half.

“Let me see. Touch your pussy, show me your slick.” 

You obeyed, spread your knees and touched yourself. Your hand glistened under the light of his bedroom, your wetness stretching between your fingers in strings. “Goddamn, would you look at that…” he said in a low rumble. “Rub it on my cock.” 

Your hand trembled slightly and you stared at him with a blank look in your eyes. He guided your hand to his cock, withdrawing his hand when he’d brought you close enough so you could decide whether you wanted to follow his command. You touched your slickened hand to his cock, covering him in the evidence that you wanted this. Wanted him. You reached between your legs and brought more of yourself, eyes soft yet glazed with lust as you smeared yourself all over his length. 

“Ask me for it.” 

“Please,” you whined. 

“Please, what?” 

“P-please fuck my face. Sir.” 

He returned his cock to your cheek, your wetness lubricating your face. Hand cradling his cock, he began to thrust. It wasnt much different from fucking his own fist. It was just skin. Not the tight velvety wetness of a pussy or a throat that would gag with his thickness. But your face was softer than his gun callused hands. Even better was your pretty face, looking up at him so adoringly… So full of desire. 

He didn’t have to let his imagination do the trick now. Not when you were right in front of him, lending yourself for his use. And no imagination, no memory did justice to you. Your body. Scarred, but beautiful. Tits that filled his large hands, clean and styled hair, a belly that showed you were well fed. He wanted to lay you out on his bed and consume you. Take your tits in his mouth, grab handfuls of your ass, spread your cunt lips and lodge himself inside you. Give it to you hard so your thigh jiggled and you felt them ache as they rubbed against each other when you walked around in your pretty little dresses. 

But as depraved as he was, he knew he shouldn’t be the first to take you. He’d have you just this once. Store your image in his head to get off with for as long as his dick worked. You acted all brave, but he couldn’t shake off that you were still inexperienced. The first time was meant to be good. The world was no longer normal, but you could have normality within the insular walls of Jackson. 

Even this was wrong. Using you like this instead of making sweet love to you. But he hadn’t been that man in a long time. He was selfish and cruel. If there was no town, no community where everyone knew everyone and you still threw yourself at him, he would’ve taken you in all your holes with no hesitation. Ruined you, kept you until your body wasn’t of use and tossed you aside. But being in this semi-normal place had gotten its claws into him. Softened him up.

He grew closer to the edge embarrassingly quickly, the haze of carnal pleasure beginning to muffle the voices screaming in his head to let you go. He only barely noticed that you were touching yourself. Enjoying this treatment of you. That spurred him on. There was no stopping now. 

You let out soft moans, your eyes never once leaving him. He struggled to get himself to focus. To check for any signs you didn’t want this. But all he saw was you on the precipice of pleasure. The world disappeared. His house, Jackson, the darkness that lay beyond. It was all him now. He felt lighter, like he would float out through the window and everything he’d ever been through would disappear. Every ounce of goodness quietened down, the last shreds of his morality discarded with your dress. He grunted and moaned your name as he kept fucking you. Your features morphed into nothingness. No longer a face, no longer a human woman. All he knew was the ache in his body, the tightness that begged to be released. 

He slapped a hand against the wall as his thighs stiffened and every muscle in the vicinity of his cock tightened. He took himself back in his hand and stroked himself over your face. Once, twice, and thr– mid stroke, he growled and spilled on your face, coating your innocent features in sticky white cum. You flinched as the first stream hit, screwing your eyes shut. He wanted to make you look, see how he could defile you, show you that he wasn’t for you. Force you to confront what you’d allowed into your life so you’d run and never look back. 

But all he could do was keep stroking as he came down from his high. It was unlike anything he’d had in the recent past. Not his imagination, not just his hand. A real human woman who wasn’t just a convenience. One who sought him out, stripped for him, and let him use her face like a toy. 

He took a minute to collect his breath and let his senses return to him. His cock hung semi-hard outta his jeans, like it could go again if he willed it. Like it wasn’t almost six decades old. But he wasn’t too surprised. He could go again for the utterly debauched girl in front of him. Innocence eclipsed by milky white ropes of his cum. Without thinking twice, he grabbed your hair and pulled at it. You yelped, but let him pull you up from the ground and drag you to the other side of the room. 

He stopped you in front of his mirror, and slapped your hand off your pussy before replacing it with his. “Look at yourself. I fucking told you,” he said, forcing two thick fingers inside your cunt. You sucked him in with little resistance, your cunt leaking enough for him to force a third finger inside you. You gasped and tried to wriggle away, but he wasn’t having it. He was a fucking monster, but he would never leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially a young thing who’d never had anyone else before. 

He wrapped his free hand around your throat, his half hard cock begging him to go again when he felt the vibrations of your moans. “I warned you,” he whispered into your ear. “Fuckin’ warned you. Told you how starved I was. And you still taunted me. Look at you now!” 

“Please… Please, Joel! Sir, please…” 

“Fuckin’ slut. Maybe you ain’t really a virgin.” 

“I am, I am, I promise. I wa–” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he pressed his thumb on your clit. 

“What was that?” 

You made some incoherent noises, too far gone to form words. Yet you managed to thrust onto his fingers and roll your hips like a real natural. 

“Joel…” 

“I know, pretty girl… I know,” he cooed, the softness in his voice contradicting how he’d used you just minutes prior. Contradicting the cum on your pretty little face. 

“You gonna come for me? Give me another one after you came so sweetly on my fingers that day?” 

There were no answers from you. Not even an acknowledgement that you heard him. Just whines and moans as you let him support your entire weight. Your head lolled back on his shoulder and your eyes rolled back into your skull as he fucked you stupid with just his fingers. Oh the things he could do with his cock… Reach deeper, take the virginity you’d held on to for so long. If he ever had you, he would never let go. He was too selfish a man to willingly lose a girl so precious after taking her cunt. 

You gripped him like a vice, so tight he couldn't pry his fingers out. Something that vaguely sounded like his name spilled from your lips as you crumpled in his arms. Your pussy pulsated around you as he held you against him, unwilling to remove himself from you so quickly. 

He withdrew your panties from his pocket– the fresh pair you took off in his fucking hallways like it was no big deal. He wiped your face with it the same way he cleaned up your cunt that day. Instead of tucking it in his pocket, he forced it into your hand. 

“Put it on. Your fucking dress, too. Hope you learned you fucking lesson.”

As you put it on and scampered away naked into his hallways, he hoped it would be enough to scare you away. But he knew in his heart of hearts that he would always crave you like an addict craving a drink.

⌘

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[queenimmadolla]

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

  “Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around. 

  Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

  “I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.” 

  “Wha’?”

  “Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

  Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

  “Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair. 

  While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him. 

  Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him. 

  The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention. 

  Someone. 

  Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side. 

  Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

  He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

  Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

  They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it. 

  Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough. 

  Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie. 

  He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

  He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

  Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

  And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

  The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

  Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

  With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

  “It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

  If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

  Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

  NOW, 1989

  “Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

  “Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

  You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

  Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand. 

  When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

  Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

  You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

  Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying. 

  You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job. 

  You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan. 

  So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

  Your mother was murdered.

  Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

  Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional. 

  The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

  Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

  And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery. 

  Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself. 

  You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

  You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

  Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace. 

  The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

  Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells. 

  He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting. 

  So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

  When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead. 

  “Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

  It was a little odd, but you did. 

  When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

  “I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

  “I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

  Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

  The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

  You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him. 

  You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

  You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

  “Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

  You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

  “Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

  But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

  You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

  What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

  “YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring. 

  “He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

  You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

  “Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

  “Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

  You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

  You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.” 

  Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

  Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss. 

  “I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

  And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

  You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked. 

  “I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

  “Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.” 

  You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

  Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

  Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

  “It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

  You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that. 

  “That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.” 

  Didn’t feel like it.

  Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

  You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

  “No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

  Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

  “Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

  “You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

  Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands. 

  “And I can. Please, let me do this.”

  You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

  After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

  You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

  You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

  You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

  Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

  Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

  “It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it. 

  You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

  “So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject. 

  “It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university. 

  Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

  “See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?” 

  You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat. 

  “Okay, spill.”

  Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

  “Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!” 

  This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile. 

  “Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush. 

  “Steve Harrington.”

  “STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

  “Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

  “Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

  You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

  “Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.” 

  You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

  “And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again. 

  “Does he flirt with you?”

  “No.”

  “See him flirt with any girls?”

  “Nope.”

  “Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

  “Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

  Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

  You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

  “He’s on the spectrum?”

  Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

  It got quiet for a few moments.

  ”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

  You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most. 

  She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

  ”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

  “Reefer Rick?”

  “Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

  Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

  Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

  Munson.

  You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

  You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

  Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

  “I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

  “How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

  “Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

  You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

  Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

  Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

  “Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

  “No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

  “How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow. 

  “I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

  Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

  “H-He’s your favorite…?”

  “Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

  “You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

  You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you. 

  “Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

  Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

  “He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

  Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

  You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

  You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

  You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea. 

  “Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

  Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

  Maybe a drink would calm you down.

  You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

  “The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now. 

  “What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

  “Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

  You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

  Oh, shit. 

  Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

  You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

  ”Funny seeing you here.”

  You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

  “Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

  You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off. 

  “It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

  “I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

  “Oh.”

  He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

  OH, THANK FUCK. 

  “Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

  “So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

  “Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

  She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

  “Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

  “Hey, Carol.”

  Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

  “You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl. 

  “Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

  “Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

  “You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

  “I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

  Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

  When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

  Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

  “Oopsie.”

  But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

  “Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy. 

  Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

  Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

  At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

  You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

  Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning. 

  You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

  You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

  You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

  “You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

  “You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

  “Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

  He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

  “You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

  He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

  Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

  “I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

  “Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

  “Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it. 

  Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

  ”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

  “You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

  “Wall.”

  “Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

  “Great Wall of China.”

  Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

  “Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

  Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense. 

  Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

  ”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

  “Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing. 

  “Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

  “Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

  And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

  At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

  Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

  Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

  “Does that feel good?”

  You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.” 

  Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

  Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

  You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

  All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

  You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

  To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

  Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

  “I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

  You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

  When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

  The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

  The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within. 

  She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

  You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

  Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

  “Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

  Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

  You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you. 

  His right arm was out, palm up.

  He was waiting for you.

  You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

  Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

  “Sissy. . .”

  “Sissy…”

  “SISSY!”

  You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

  She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect. 

  What the hell?

  “You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

  You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways. 

  You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

  “It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

  “Oh my god…”

  “So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

  You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

  “Ooh, your knees…”

  You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

  “I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

  “Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

  Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

  “You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

  Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist. 

  “Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once. 

  “Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

  “It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

  “Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

  You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

  “Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

  “It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

  “Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

  “That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

  “Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

  “I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

  You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

  Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

  You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

  “─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

  ”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

  “And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing. 

  “That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

  Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning. 

  You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

  You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

  But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

  You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

  You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

  “Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

  You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

  “I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

  You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

  “Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

  “THAT WE DO!” 

  You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

  “What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

  “Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

  “Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

  “Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

  “Mm. White wine?”

  It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

  “Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

  You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

  “He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

  You shot him a glare.

  “Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

  You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers. 

  You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

  When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

  Then your eyes snapped open.

  Oh, god. You were a loser.

  After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

  A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

  “Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

  “Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

  There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

  “Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation. 

  “She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

  “I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

  “Yes, we got a free soda!”

  Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

  You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a  reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

  “Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

  Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

  “Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

  “Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

  “You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

  “All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.” 

  “Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

  “I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

  “I bet you can.”

  After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

  You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

  Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

  You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house. 

  Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder. 

  And it was coming from outside your front door.

  You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

  Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home. 

  You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

  “Uuuhhhnng…”

  This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

  ”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

  You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

  “Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

  You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

  “OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

  Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

  Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life. 

  “Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!” 

  You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

  Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs. 

  You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

  “Stop it!”

  “Leave me alone!”

  “Go away, I’m just a girl!”

  The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

  Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

  You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

  You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

  Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located. 

  On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature. 

  You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it. 

  Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

  The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

  When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

  Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

  His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

  “It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.” 

  He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation, 

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

  “Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

  “I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

  It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

  He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

  You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

  “Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

  He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

  “Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

  A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

  Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

  “C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

[rose-pearls]

The Perils of Love - Part 2

Did I already had an idea for the second part of The Perils of Love? Definitely and here it is! Thank you for all the comments and love I didn't think so many people would like it! I hope you like this chapter! Requests are also open!

Relations: Clarisse La Rue x reader (endgame), Luke Castellan x reader, platonic!Silena x reader, platonic!Percy Jackson x reader

Main taglist: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187, @nyx2021, @thestarspangledcaptain, @kmc1989 (open)

The Perils of Love Taglist: @chadmeeksmartinswifey, @liv444me, @justanotherkpopstanlol, @taygrls, @10ava01, @2hiigh2cry, @lucycarlisleswife, @thekittyxo-blog, @ahh-chickens, @exactlycoralfox, @quackitysdrugdealer, @lafemmii, @flower-lise, @jaegerlisa1, @valenftcrush, @bdscsjhb, @niktwazny303, @llovvessssssssssssss, @etheriaaly, @spidergyall, @acourtofdeppressionandanxiety

It was quiet, far too quiet after having lived in the Hermes cabin for so long. A statue of Zeus was in the middle of the room, and you couldn’t help but think how vain you father must be to put a statue of himself in here. 

The afternoon had been chaotic, with Mister D and Chiron taking you away from the group to talk, Percy the only one allowed with you as you were now both children of the big three. After that they had sent you to your new cabin, you still had to retrieve your clothes and stuff from the Hermes cabin, but you just needed a moment. 

The quiet was suddenly broken by a loud whistle.

“Damn, Zeus really made an effort here,” you hear Clarisse say as she looks around, curious eyes looking around the room. She was right, it was much bigger than the other cabin’s you had seen with a living room when you entered and a second floor where multiple beds could be placed. It looked like a bank, mixed with lightening bolds and clouds drawn on the ceiling.

“He sure did, wonder why,” you can’t help but say, wondering for the hundredth time in the past hour why the God of Thunder had suddenly decided you were worth something.

There was a silence that accompanied your words before you felt the couch dip and the smell of woods filled your senses. 

“How are you doing?”, Clarisse looks unsure when you turn to her, but the only thing you can do is sigh in response.

“I don’t know, my father suddenly decides that I’m worth something and claims me in front of everyone. Now I am going to be living in this enormous cabin alone and everyone will probably avoid me because a child of the big three is like the most dangerous thing possible,” you take a deep breath after spilling everything that you had been thinking. Clarisse seems surprised at your outburst, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. 

“Sorry, I guess it just needed to get out and you are the first person I talked to since then. Percy had to stay with Chiron,” Clarisse makes a noise of disagreement as you turn to look at your hands.

“I don’t mind, really. I mean your life did a complete turnaround in the last hour I think it’s normal for you to be having a hard time,” a smile appears on your lips without you even noticing, and as you look at her, she has a soft smile on her lips, one that you haven’t seen before. 

“I can’t tell you that it will all be alright but try to see the good side of it all, now you have a cabin for yourself without idiots running around all the time,” her words make you snort as you can’t help but agree, as much as you loved the comradery in the Hermes cabin it was always chaotic. 

“And if anyone has a problem with you, you tell me and I’ll make sure they don’t say anything anymore,” the sweet look she had just a second ago has morphed into determination and you can’t stop yourself from smiling.

“Don’t worry Clarisse I’ll be fine, but thank you,” you tell her, and she nods slowly, she looks unsure for a moment and the both of you look at each other before she finally speaks.

“I’m here for you, if you ever need something I will always be there,” she says it with such determination and emotions that you can only believe her, feeling lost at the feeling in your chest at her words.

“Thank you. I’m also always there for you if you need me,” you tell her with a soft smile and she seems surprised for a moment before nodding, you don’t know if you are tired or if there is really a blush on her cheeks. 

“I should go pick up my stuff at the Hermes cabin otherwise I will never get settled in before the bonfire tonight,” Clarisse has a bright smile at the words before getting up with you.

“So, I’ll be seeing you at the bonfire tonight?”, she seems confident as she speaks, but you can see some doubt lingering in her eyes.

“Of course, I’ll see you there!”, you tell her as she looks at you for a moment, seemingly trying to read your expression. Before you can ask her if everything is alright you feel a soft kiss on your cheek and Clarisse running off before you can say anything.

Your mouth is wide open, and your cheeks feel like they are burning as you touch the spot where she kissed you, the feeling of her lips still lingering there. 

--

“Coming to pick up your stuff?”, you hear as you are packing up one of your shirts in the bag, Luke is leaning against one of the double beds as you look behind you.

“I am, otherwise, I will have to come back every time for my stuff. Might not be se practical,” you tell him awkwardly, you didn’t know how to act around him anymore, not after the conversation you had overheard yesterday.

“I guess congratulations are in order,” he says after a few seconds of silence, and you turn around to look at him properly.

“Thank you, never thought this day would come but it has,” the both of you look at each other for a moment before Luke sighs.

“You know that you are always welcome here, right? Don’t ever hesitate to come by, I know the younger kids will miss you,” he says, and you can’t help but smile at his words, you would also miss them and their youthful innocence. 

“I’ll miss you too,” the words make you turn to look back at him from the bunks you were looking at and you can see him now being closer to you then before.

“Really?”, you can’t help but ask, feeling unsure after what he had said to Chris but as you look into the familiar brown eyes you can’t seem to find any trace of lying.

“Of course, you were here for three years I don’t know how it will be now that you aren’t here anymore,” you want to tell him that it will probably better for him without you clinging to him as Chris has said it, but you can’t find the strength to say it.

Luke gets closer to you and suddenly you find yourself having to look slightly upwards to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t be a stranger,” he whispers, and you shake your head slowly, trying to find an answer while getting lost in his eyes.

“I won’t,” you tell him, sure of yourself and Luke seems relieved at your words before he gets even closer to you.

And for a moment the two of you look at each other, wondering what was about to happen and if you should really cross that line until the door of the cabin slams open making the both of you jump away in surprise. Silena is at the entrance of the door, looking at the both of you with angry eyes and you suddenly wonder what you had done to have the Aphrodite girl mad at you.

“I’m here to help you get your stuff to your cabin,” she says, and you would’ve found the gesture sweet if she hadn’t still been glaring at the two of you.

“Thank you, I just finished packing everything,” you say after awkwardly clearing your throat.

“I guess I’ll see you around Luke,” the boy nods in agreement, looking a bit scared to answer as the Aphrodite girl is still glaring at him.

The walk to your cabin is silent, Silena not speaking a word to you, and you know better than to try and say something when she has ignored your previous attempts at a conversation.

“You need to make a choice,” she suddenly says as you drop your bags near your bed, making you look at her with wide eyes.

“What do you mean?”, you feel confused at her statement, but she just lets out a loud sigh, looking annoyed.

“Between Luke and Clarisse, you can’t play with their emotions forever,” the words are like a slap in the face as you look at the girl with wide eyes.

“Wait-what?! I am not doing anything like that!”, you can’t help but say, your voice getting louder as you feel insulted by what she insinuated, as if you had been playing on purpose with their emotions.

“I don’t even know why you would even say that when there is nothing happening between me and Luke or me and Clarisse,” you say before she can even open her mouth and she scoffs loudly.

“You know for a daughter of Zeus you really are clueless,” she says, and you feel even more frustrated.

“What in the gods name do you mean?”, you can feel the anger coming up, as you try to remember what could possibly have led to this conversation.

“It is not my place to tell you, but you really should open up your eyes before you hurt all three of you,” she says with a cold look and you feel once again lost, you thought that the two of you had gotten closer last night but now looking at her you couldn’t remember the sweet girl from that night.

“Acting like a victim or like you don’t know what I’m talking about won’t get you anywhere,” the words feel like a slap in the face, and you try to keep yourself calm but the sound of thunder makes the two of you look up. The ceiling that had previously been a soft gray was now getting darker with thunder rumbling. 

“Get out,” you tell her before turning around, not wanting to see the girl any longer after what she had just told you. 

And for a moment you thought that she had left before her voice broke your thoughts once again, only this time softer.

“I’m sorry, for what I said it wasn’t fair,” the words are spoken softly, carefully like she wants to make sure you don’t get angry.

“It’s okay, guess you needed to say what you really thought, good to know what people think of me,” you can’t help but mutter as you put the last of your stuff away, not hearing the sigh Silena lets out.

“I didn’t think that, not really, I guess that I am protective of Clarisse and sometimes I attack people who hurt her like some kind of-”, she seems to try and find the correct word, so you turn around with raised eyebrows.

“A chihuahua?”, she snorts at the words before nodding slowly, letting you think of her previous words.

“Why do you think I hurt Clarisse? I saw her just two hours ago and everything was fine,” you tell her, and she sighs quietly before sitting down on your bed with a grimace.

“She’s going to kill me,” she whispers under her breath while you can’t help but look at her feeling confused.

“Clarisse likes you; she has for the past two years and probably before that,” the words are like a bullet, hitting you right through your chest. You don’t know what to say as you open and close your mouth multiple times. Silena has an understanding smile on her lips as she pats the spot next to her on the bed, making you sink into it while your thoughts are running wild.

“I didn’t- I really didn’t know,” you tell her, and she nods quietly, like she already knew what you were going to say.

“I know, you don’t seem to realize that people are interested in you,” she says it like a fact, and you can’t help but nod in agreement.

“I don’t know what to do,” you say after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper but Silena seems to have heard you as she sighs.

“I think that you need to wrap your head around all of this and that you need to think about who you really have feelings for. But if you don’t go for Clarisse, please be kind to her, she looks tough, but she has a soft spot,” the words are carefully said but you can’t help but feel offended as she seems to think you would hurt the Ares girl.

“Of course, I would never hurt her,” you say quickly and Silena smiles knowingly, as if she knows something that you don’t know yet.

“Good, I’ll let you think in peace,” she says before getting up and squeezing your shoulder in reassurance.

The silence of the cabin is once again taking over the place but this time you welcome it as your head is filled with questions. Silena seemed to think that both Luke and Clarise were interested in you and that you had to make a choice. Your groan loudly as you put your head into a cushion, wondering how you were going to make a decision.

You had always liked Luke, or at least had a crush on him but as you think back of the last few days the only thing you can think about is Clarisse. The way she had quickly taken you under her wing, kissed you on the cheek and came to see you to make sure you were alright. 

Your thoughts are quickly broken by a loud bang of the door, making you jump in surprise.

“Sorry for the door but I am officially moving in!”, you hear Percy yell and as you look over the silver balcony you come face to face with a smiling Percy, a pillow under his arm and a bag with his stuff in his hand.

“You do know that we have pillows here?”, you say teasingly, unable not to smile as the boy shrugs his shoulders and starts climbing up the stairs. The sight of him makes you calm down as you finally feel at ease for a moment.

“I hope it isn’t an issue that I’m here, it just gets lonely there,” he says, looking a bit awkward for a moment but you just take his bag out of his hand to bring it to the bed on the other side of the room.

“Of course not! I’m glad that you are here, it was getting a bit to calm in here,” you say after a moment and Percy seems relieved at your words.

“So, what’s the gossip?”, Percy asks after laying down like a starfish on the bed making you snort.

“What do you want to know?”, the boy looks unsure for a moment before a mischievous grin appears.

“Everything, but perhaps what is happening between you and Clarisse at the moment,” you glare at the boy, who tries to look innocent, but you can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Fine, I need your opinion on this. But first we are making hot chocolate and face masks,” Percy seems unsure at the second option, but you give him a pointed look before picking up the stuff you would need.

And that is how you find yourself half an hour later in the living room with hot chocolate and the both of you with a face mask telling him everything that had happened.

--

The bonfire was already in full swing as you arrived with Percy, the both of you had quickly gotten ready when you had realized how late it was.

“Now go get her!”, Percy says with a big smile as you look scared for a moment, and you turn around to give him a soft smile.

“Thank you for the advice,” you say but the boy simply shrugs his shoulders, a smile on his lips.

“Always here if you need me, that is what family is for after all,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world and you can’t help but feel a bit emotional at the words.

“I’ll see you later in our cabin?”, Percy quickly nods with a large grin before giving you a thumbs up and moving towards Annabeth and Grover who were waiting for him.

You turn to look back at the rest of the bonfire, but you can’t seem to find the Ares girl, the only girl you find at that moment is Silena, who looks pained. You feel confused as to why before you turn to look closer and see Clarisse and a girl talking, or rather flirting with each other. It feels like someone has thrown a bucket of water over you as you look at the two of them, they looked perfect for each other, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of jealousy as you saw Clarisse touching the other girls leg.

“Please talk to her,” Silena says, and you turn around to suddenly find her next to you. You try to say something, but you aren’t able to as you look at both girls.

“What’s the point? She seems happy, I don’t want to disturb her,” you can’t help but say, feeling defeated.

“Look she is just acting like an idiot to get your attention, she was mad when she saw Luke and you nearly kissing so she is probably trying to see if you will react to her flirting with someone else,” Silena seems to be trying to explain everything as quickly as possible, as if she is scared that you would run out of time or that you would just leave.

“Fine, I’ll talk to her, after all it seems to be my fault she is talking to that girl. But if she tells me to leave, I am leaving,” you say, and Silena quickly nods in agreement. You take a moment to collect all the possible courage you will need before walking towards the two girls.

“Clarisse, hi, could I talk to you?”, you could’ve just started a conversation and then ask the question, but you just needed to talk to her.

“Why?”, the Ares girl suddenly asks, and you feel lost, she doesn’t seem that happy to see you and you try not to feel hurt as she looks at you like you were just some dirt on the side of the road.

“Because I need to talk to you about something, private,” you say as you quickly look at the other girl before turning back towards Clarisse.

“Why don’t you go talk with Castellan, I’m sure he’ll be interested,” she says with a mean smile, and you feel like the air has left your lungs as she turns back to the girl she was talking to.

“Clarisse, please,” you say softly and for a moment you wonder if she has heard you before you see her look up and look at something behind you. You get ready to look at what she could possibly be looking at, but she gets up before you can.

“Fine, you have five minutes,” she says, and you let out a sigh of relief as you follow her away from the bonfire and into the woods.

Your relief is quickly forgotten as you start to wonder how you are going to tell her everything. She seems impatient as she has her arms crossed in front of her and her eyebrows raised at you, making you laugh nervously.

“You know in some cultures, crossing your arms means that you are closing yourself of or protecting yourself,” you can’t help but say, and you want to slap yourself as you realize what you just said.

“So, you took me away to tell me some fun facts? Because then I am leaving,” she says and you see that she is ready to go but you take her arm and she stops immediately, looking at your hand on her arm.

“Sorry, I’m just nervous, let me start again?”, she seems unsure but nods slowly and you clear your throat.

“Right, I don’t really know how to say it, but I guess I’ll start by this. I like you Clarisse,” the words feel like a relief but is short lived as Clarisse scoffs and takes her arm out of your grip.

“Is this a joke? First Castellan now me. Did he reject you and you decided to come to the second-best option?”, the words are like a punch in the guts, and you take a few seconds to react but as you watch her leave, this time towards the lake you can’t help but react.

“Wait! Clarisse! This is not a joke!”, you yell as you follow her and you finally manage to find her as she arrives at the lake, the both of you out of breath.

“Really? How come you were so close to him this afternoon? How come after three years of pining over him you suddenly seem interested in me?”, she yells, and you can see the hurt in her eyes, the pain in them.

“Because I never knew you were an option for me. I never knew you even knew my name Clarisse, so I didn’t think that something could happen between us,” you yell back, feeling desperate for her to listen to you.

“I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize that you were there, that you always were but I am here now, and I am ready to go on my knees to beg you for just a chance,” you tell her, breathless, as you approach her. 

“I have loved you for three years,” she whispers, like a wounded animal, as if she is scared that you would hurt her but instead you take her hand in yours, unsure if she will reject you or not but she just grips it tightly.

“I know, Silena told me,” you tell her softly and her eyes widen at the words, anger coming up but you take her chin between your fingers, making her look at you.

“I am going to kill her,” she whispers, and you smile at the words.

“Please don’t, she’s the one that made me realize just how much I liked you,” you whisper, and she looks surprised for a moment before realizing just how close you were.

“She also helped me go talk to you when I was feeling jealous at the sight of you and that girl,” it’s hard to admit but as you see her eyes sparkling at the confession, you know that you did the right thing.

“Now you know how I felt,” she says, and you can’t help but feel bad.

“I know, I’m sorry for that,” you tell her, but she simply shrugs her shoulders before coming even closer to you.

“Tell me what you wanted to tell me,” she whispers and you shudder at the closeness of her lips against yours but you nod slowly, enjoying her smirk at your reaction.

“I love you Clarisse La Rue and I wanted to ask you if you would like to go on a date with me?”, you make sure that the words are said clearly, that there couldn’t be a misunderstanding.

Clarisse’s lips melting against yours is the only answer you need, as she kisses you like you are the air she needs to breath. You quickly kiss her back, one hand cupping her cheek while the other grabs onto her curls making her moan softly.

“You are going to be the death of me princess,” she whispers, breathless before bringing you into an even deeper kiss, her hands gripping your waist tightly. 

“So, I guess this is a, yes?”, you ask feeling like you are on cloud nine and as you feel her smile against your skin you know you don’t even need her to answer.

“A million times yes,” she whispers against your skin, making you shiver, before continuing to drop soft kisses against your skin.

--

Life had been better ever since that night, Clarisse often joining you into your cabin and learning to live with Percy as the two of them slowly started liking each other more. There were still quests and monsters waiting for you but as you felt her strong arms holding you closer to her, you knew everything would be alright.

#percy jackson x reader #percy series #percy jackson #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse pjo #clarrise la rue #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue x fem reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #silena pjo #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write (any length you’d like) Remus smut where reader is just so so desperate for him and he’s such a soft Dom🫶🏻 if not please just disregard this🫶🏻

Hi, thank you for requesting! Honestly unsure if this qualifies as full smut, but I hope you like it

cw: smut mdni, dom/sub dynamic

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 688 words

You’re hovering by the door. You think you’re being quiet, but Remus can hear the floorboards creaking as you shift from foot to foot. 

Reluctantly, he tears his attention from his story. “Something the matter, dove?” 

Your eyes widen. As if you’d never in a million years have expected to attract his notice. Remus might roll his eyes if it weren’t so cute. 

“No,” you say quickly. “Everything’s fine, just miss you.” 

He gives you a small smile. “Sorry, I won’t be much longer. You know how it is, though, I can’t just stop in the middle of a chapter or I’ll have trouble getting back in the flow next time.” 

“Right, I know.” You rub your lips together. “I’m not trying to rush you.” 

“Just a few more minutes, honey.” 

“Okay.” 

There’s a moment of silence, but Remus lets it sit, sensing you have more to say. 

He’s right. “Can I sit by you while you work?” your voice is tentative. “I’ll be quiet.” 

He chuckles. “Yeah, course you can.” 

You go eagerly to his feet, resting your cheek against his leg. “Thanks,” you mumble. 

Remus manages to type with one hand so he can stroke your head while he works. He’s nearly done with his chapter when he feels movement against his thigh. He looks down. You’re nuzzling your cheek against the rough material of his pants with glazed-over eyes, teeth working into your bottom lip. He thinks he sees your thighs shifting against each other under your skirt.

“Baby.”

The word sounds dipped in honey, and yet you look up like you’re in trouble. 

“Sorry,” you say, lifting your face from his leg. 

“It’s alright,” he says gently. “I didn’t realize you were feeling so needy, honey. Wanna sit on my lap and keep yourself busy while I finish up?” 

A smile splits your face, and Remus chuckles when you scramble up. He sets a hand on your waist as you straddle his leg, your skirt fanned out around you.

“Just take it easy, alright? I’m almost done, I’ll take care of you in a minute.” 

You nod happily. “Thanks, Rem.” 

“Course.” 

Remus tries to focus on the story as he types, but it’s not easy. You work yourself up in record time, fingers digging into his shoulders and lips turning red and raw as your hips move under his hand. He can feel the heat of you through his pantleg. 

The words are far from perfect, but it’s a relief when he finishes. You look up when his laptop shuts with a click. Your eyes brighten. 

“You having fun, dove?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Yeah?” Remus lets his voice stretch out low and sultry, reaching up to run his thumb over your bottom lip. It’s wet and swollen, pliable to his touch. Your eyelids droop and you grind your hips harder into his thigh. “You’ve been such a good girl for me.” 

You flush a pretty pink but can’t repress your smile at the praise. Remus kisses you slowly, paying special attention to that tormented bottom lip. He soothes his tongue over the bite marks you’ve made, stroking your hip from bum to waist with his hand. 

“Why’re you embarrassed?” 

“I’m not embarrassed.” 

“No?” He kisses the supple skin underneath your jaw, pressing his lips to your racing pulse. “You’re blushing like mad, dove.” 

You fluster, setting your hands on his face and ducking away from him. “Remus,” you whine. “You’re being mean.” 

He grins, almost sheepish but not quite. “You’re right, honey, I’m sorry. You’re just too cute like this.” 

“You said you’d take care of me,” you remind him. “I was good for you.” 

“You were,” he agrees, bestowing a far kinder kiss to the corner of your lips. “You’re always my good girl, hm?” 

You gasp as his hand slips under your skirt, fingers flattening over your panties. They’re soaked. He hooks a finger in the fabric to pull it aside, keeping his eyes on yours while he prods experimentally at your warmth. 

You make a quiet whimpering sound. Remus kisses you placatingly. 

“You always get what you want in the end, don’t you?”

#remus lupin #dom!remus lupin #dom!remus x sub!reader #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x self insert #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fic #remus lupin smut #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin scenario #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin one shot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #hp marauders

[munsonhoneybaby]

Dustin Doesn't Know | Eddie Munson X F!Henderson!Reader

Summary: As things with Eddie start to go farther and farther, you worry how your relationship would impact Dustin if he found out.

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, drug use (marijuana), stoner!reader, smut, fwb-esque, oral (m and f receiving), balls??, fingering, p in v (protected), praise, implied subspace?? idk if that was coming across tho???

A/N: there’s a lot of stuff about reader that i’m super vague on because i’m thinking of explaining it more in the final part or maybe additional drabbles and stuff like that (she is adopted tho). i really hope that this chapter lives up to the hype and praise that the first one got since it’s taken me three months to update lol. as always lmk if i missed anything in the warnings.

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

When you heard the soft groan of your window slowly sliding open, you couldn’t hold back the grin that spread across your face. Turning around, you were met with Eddie maneuvering his lean body through the window; it wasn’t quite as awkward as you’d expected, but he certainly wasn’t as silent as he’d hoped to be as his feet thudded on your carpeted floor.

“Not too bad, Munson. You’re definitely lucky being a heavy sleeper runs in the Henderson DNA, though.” As you face him completely, he holds out a baggie of weed and a small box. 

Eyebrows furrowing, you took it to examine it further as he explained. “It’s uh– incense. I noticed you lit some last time, figured it was for the smell.”

“Yeah, makes it a little easier for Mom to pretend she doesn’t know.” Opening the package, you placed one of the sticks in the holder and lit the end. “That’s really sweet, Eddie, thank you.”

“Hope the scent is alright ‘n everything, I didn’t really know what you like.” Shrugging his jacket off, he tossed it over the back of the chair at your desk.

Suppressing a smile, you bent down to the drawer next to him to get out your tray and paper again, “It’s actually one of my favorites.”

“Oh,” He seemed pleasantly surprised, but he kept his head down as he took a seat at your desk. “Good.”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m gonna roll? Why? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Flicking the back of his head, you replied, “Suit yourself then, smartass. I was gonna do it this time, but never mind.”

“Jeez, touchy,” He huffed playfully as he swatted your hand away. “I don’t mind rolling, I’d be doing it if I were at home right now anyway. Your only job is to sit there and look pretty for me, alright?”

“A little demeaning, but I think I can handle it,” You sighed dramatically. Much like last time, you stretched yourself out on the bed, lying on your stomach as you watched him roll the joint. His fingers handled the paper so delicately, knowing exactly how to roll and pinch it without threatening to rip it. Every now and then one of his rings would drag or clink against the wood of your desk, and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together as you remembered the way the cool metal had felt against your hot skin.

“So, how’ve you been doing?” He placed the finished joint between his lips and held his lighter to it as he claimed the first long drag of the night. “I haven’t seen you in a minute.”

“I really am sorry about that,” You answered bashfully. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I don’t usually do stuff like that.”

“What? You mean invite in guys you hardly know to make ‘em dinner and let ‘em finger you?” Wearing a massive smirk, he held the joint out to you. You accepted it but huffed embarrassedly and his smirk only grew. “Nothin’ to be ashamed of, babe. Christ knows I’m reliving every second, I could recite every gory detail back to you.”

“I don’t know why you’re reliving it. You made me come, got blue balls, and went home.”

“So? Making you come is like seventy-five percent of the fun. Jerking off’ll make up for missing the rest,” He shrugged.

“You really don’t hold anything back, huh?” You croaked around a chestful of smoke.

“Maybe I just don’t feel like I have to with you.” You couldn’t tell if that statement went deeper than this conversation. “Should I?”

“You don’t have to hold anything back with me, Eddie,” You answered honestly. “As long as you behave around my brother.”

He pointed a finger toward you in warning as his lips curled mischievously, “I’ll remember you said that.”

Rolling your eyes, you take a couple extra hits from the joint before passing it back. He watched as you laid back on the bed, closing your eyes and slowly exhaling, the smoke billowing upwards. Eyes wandering down your body, he took in the way your shirt had rolled up to show the flesh of your tummy, how the band of your thong peeked out of your pajama pants– a different pair than last time– and accentuated the dip of your waist. He wondered how many people had gotten to see you like this; he wondered if they really appreciated it. 

“You’re about to get ash on my carpet and I’m gonna have to kick your ass,” You spoke abruptly, breaking him from his reverie.

“I’m shaking, babe,” He monotoned as he ashed it in the tray.

“You should be.”

“What’s with you, hm?” He stood and placed the joint between his lips, lifting his arms to stretch his back and shoulders. His voice was teasing as he stepped toward your bed, toward you.“Bein’ so mean to me today. You know, you were a lot nicer the last time we smoked together.”

Scooting over to make room for him on the bed, your eyes caught on the faint trail of hair leading into his jeans before lifting to meet his. Reaching out to take the joint back, you said, “‘M not being mean. Just keeping you in line, Munson.”

Crawling into the bed beside you, he settled on his side, head resting in his hand. “Probably a good idea.” Hoping his fingers weren’t twitching with nerves, he slowly grazed them over the soft skin of your stomach. “You know I’m always gettin’ into trouble.”

“I guess I’ll just have to keep an eye on you,” You posited, taking yet another long drag.

“A close one,” He hummed in agreement. His touch moved up your stomach, raising goosebumps in its wake as your head slumped against his shoulder. “This okay?”

Though you were leaning into his touch, you asked, “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Eddie’s hand froze and he leaned back slightly to try to look at you. “What? What do you mean? Do you think it is?”

You didn’t meet his eyes. “I don’t know. You’re just so important to Dustin and I don’t want to change the way he sees you. I would never want something between us to affect your relationship with him.”

“In the nicest way possible, babe–” He brushed your hair back from your face, finally locking eyes with you. “You worry too much. We’re both adults, alright? Even if something were to happen, I wouldn’t let Dustin get caught in that. We’d work around it, y’know? I think we could be mature about it. If things went bad, that is– and I mean, I don’t really think they would–”

You stretched your neck to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Careful of the now-unlit joint still in your hand, you squeezed his side. “You’re probably right, Eds.” Your lips trailed to his jaw, lined with a light smile. “I won’t worry about it anymore tonight, I didn’t mean to get you worked up.”

His cheeks flushed and he mumbled only half-jokingly, “‘M not worked up. Just don’t want you runnin’ out on me just yet, you’re actually kinda cool.”

Your eyes softened and your hand slid from his side to his chest, “I won’t go anywhere, Eddie. You don’t have to worry about that. Now,” Pressing against his chest, you urged him onto his back so you could straddle his thighs. He bit down on his lower lip, looking up at you with eager eyes. Slipping your hand into his jeans pocket for his lighter, you continued, “Enough with the heavy. We still have half a joint to finish and I seem to remember getting interrupted in the middle of something important the last time you were here.”

“You know, you really don’t have to feel obligated,” He reminded you. Still, his hands immediately wandered from your thighs, up your sides, and back.

“Who said I felt obligated, hm?” The pads of your fingers brushed his lips as you placed the lit joint between them. “Maybe I’ve just really been looking forward to making you come.”

A cloud of smoke rolled from his mouth as he groaned, clutching your hips to draw you further toward him. “Fuck, keep talking like that and it’s gonna happen way too soon, sweet thing. Been thinkin’ about it, huh?”

“Haven’t stopped thinking about it since you left,” You answered. “About what you’d do when you got home.”

“Yeah?” His hand crept beneath your shirt, running up your spine before guiding you closer. “That’s cute, baby. Thought about me stroking my cock and thinkin’ how much better that pretty pussy would feel instead? You didn’t touch yourself after I left, did you?”

Hips already grinding down against his, you lightly pinched his side. “None of your business.”

“Wait, seriously? I was just fucking around, did you actually make yourself come thinking about me beating off?”

Your head fell back and you let out a laugh that was way too loud for the time of the night. “Eddie, what the fuck?”

He said your name, tone far more serious than his statement required. “You have no idea how fucking hot that is. You’re actually about to make me bust in my pants.”

“Well don’t, alright? We were just getting to the good part when somebody got sidetracked,” You teased. Leaning down, you let your lips graze his and smiled. “Let me make you feel as good as you made me feel, yeah?” After pressing a quick peck to his lips, you sat up. “Take off your shirt.”

“Bossy,” He muttered with false exasperation. As he yanked his shirt over his head and whipped it across the room, he felt your hands drift to the button of his jeans. He tilted his chin to kiss you deeper than before. 

“Of course, you have more tattoos,” You huffed.

He might have asked if that was a problem if he hadn’t picked up on the subtle whine behind your voice. “Mmm, should’a known you’d dig the tatties. I’ll give you a tour later, huh, sweetheart? Wouldn’t wanna get sidetracked again, would we?”

“You’re a jackass, y’know that?”

“I think I’ve been told once or twice, yeah.” Hand framing your jaw, his rings pressed into one side of your neck as his left slow, open-mouthed kisses along the other. “Pretty baby,” He hummed lowly against your ear. “Bein’ so good to me.”

“You still haven’t let me show you how good I can be,” You replied breathily. 

“I just keep on distractin’ you, huh?” He pressed a couple playful kisses to your lips before asking, “Want me to let you get back to work?” Before he’d even finished his sentence, you were unzipping his jeans and scooting backward to tug them past his hips.

“Fuck, I knew you’d be big,” You whined as you eyed the outline of his length within the confines of his boxers.

“I’ll try not to let that go to my head,” He jested with a smirk. 

“I’m sure it will anyway. That’s okay though, your confidence isn’t misplaced, Eds.” When you finally pulled his boxers down, you practically had to bite down on your lip to stifle a moan at the sight. His cock twitched against his lower abdomen, precome almost dripping into the hair there. “Eddie, shit. Gonna taste so good.”

The way his length jumped at the sound of your voice almost had you drooling. He held your hair back from your face, thumb rubbing over your cheek as your hand wrapped around his base. “So fuckin’ dirty, gettin’ all desperate to suck my cock. Go on, baby, I won’t keep you waiting anymore.”

“I think I’m the one who’s s’posed to be saying that,” You hummed. Leaning forward, you let spit drip from your lip to the head, slowly stroking him. 

“Don’t sweat it, you’re worth holding out for.” His words already held a faint pant. As your tongue traced his length he tightened his grip on your hair. When your lips finally wrapped around him, his mouth fell open, a shaky breath escaping him as he hits the back of your throat. “Shit, definitely worth it.” Eyes glazed, he watched how your cheeks hollowed around him, how your lashes fluttered as you kept your eyes down. “Look at me, sweet thing. Gimme those eyes.” Nervously doing as he asked, your gaze locked with his and he stifled a groan. “Too fuckin’ pretty.” 

His hand still sweetly held your hair back from your face as you let his cock slip from your spit-soaked lips, mouthing sloppy kisses along it until you reached his balls. Your tongue laved across one and his eyes rolled back, head falling against your pillows. “What the fuck,” He groaned incredulously. “You’re fucking unreal. I have to be dreaming right now.”

“Vivid dreamer,” You quipped lowly.

Smirk never leaving his face, he tugged lightly at your hair, drawing a small gasp from you. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had this dream, sweetheart. Definitely never felt this good before, though.”

“Glad I’m living up to your expectations, Munson.” Taking him back into your mouth, the musky taste of his precome coated your tongue. The moan he fought to hold back became a whimper as you lapped up every drop. Resisting the urge to gag, you bobbed your head further until your nose brushed the dark curls around his base. Your nails dragged lightly over the ink winding around his hipbone, making them jerk in response. 

“You have no idea,” A whine was beginning to leak into his tone. “‘M already close, baby. You’re s’fucking good. Such a good girl for me.” Hand cradling the back of your head, his hips rutted carefully to meet your movements. Nails digging into his hips encouragingly, you tried to keep your eyes on him as the rise and fall of his chest grew more rapid. “Fuck, you’re g’nna make me come.” You moaned eagerly, vibrations making his thighs tense. 

Not wanting to pull your hair too hard, Eddie clutched your bedding instead. His other hand formed a fist which he bit down on, huffing out ragged breaths around it in an attempt to keep quiet. You could feel his cock twitch as his come filled your mouth and a tremor ran through his body as he watched you swallow all of it.

He was still panting as you crawled to his level, planting a far-too-sweet kiss on his lips and smiling. Shaking his head, he breathed, “Too fuckin’ good.”

“Happy to return the favor.”

“Fuck favors.” His hand found a home in your hair again as he pulled you in for a heated kiss. His free hand lifted your shirt until you leaned back so he could tug it over your head. “I just want you. Are you alright with that?” You just looked into his eyes for a moment– silently communicating something that you weren’t sure either of you fully understood– before your lips met his again, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra. Calloused fingertips brushed down the sensitive skin of your neck and over your chest to your nipples. You shivered, goosebumps pebbling your skin as he teased them with the pads of his thumbs. Your mouth fell open against his and his teeth nipped your lower lip. Trailing a few kisses along your jaw, he murmured, “Pretty baby.”

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps in the hallway followed by the bathroom door creaking made you both freeze. You glanced at your bedroom doorknob to ensure it was locked before you and Eddie both eyed the alarm clock on your nightstand. It was almost a quarter past three in the morning and Dustin would be getting up for school in less than four hours.

“That’s my cue, isn’t it?” He pouted.

“I think so,” You sighed. Lifting your hips, you allowed him to fix his boxers and jeans before he handed you your shirt. “We can hang out again soon though, okay?”

“Yeah,” He snorted, crawling out of your bed to search the other side of the room for his own shirt. “‘Hang out’. ‘Cause I do this with all my friends, y’know?”

“I’m sorry, do you want me to say you can sneak in my window for head again?”

Laughing, he pulled his shirt over his head and slipped his shoes back on before walking back over to you. His hands cradled your jaw, tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes from where he stood between your legs. “Maybe I wanna give you head next time, hm? How ‘bout that?”

Body heating embarrassedly, you tried to look anywhere but his eyes. “I’ll consider it.”

“Mmm, good.” He pressed a long, slow kiss to your lips before hesitantly pulling back. “I’ve got a lot to think about until the next time I see you.”

“I’ll call you, okay?” 

Grinning, he swiped his thumb over your cheek one last time before he headed for your window. “I’ll be waiting, Henderson.” He ducked back out the window and you peeked your head out after him. Throwing you a quick wink, he started to cut across the yard where he must have parked a few doors down, lighting a cigarette on his way. This was far from the last time Eddie Munson would make an escape from your window.

Letting out another sigh, you kicked off your pajama pants and climbed back into bed. After spending nearly an hour tossing and turning, your hand found its way between your legs, seeking relief so you could finally fall asleep.

Nearly four weeks later, you were watching TV in the living room when the boys came in after school. Dustin threw himself down on the couch with a loud groan while Lucas and Mike both sat down with much less dramatic frustration. “I just don’t understand why they can’t rehearse somewhere else, Hellfire uses the same room every week and they’ve already kicked us out once!”

“Well, it is the drama room and they are rehearsing for the school musical,” You reminded him, going to the kitchen. He grumbled something unintelligible in response as you poured glasses of water for all three boys. “You guys could always have Hellfire here again. Gives Mom a reason to get out of the house and I don’t mind having you guys as long as you don’t totally trash the basement.”

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, cautiously. “...Will you make snacks ‘n stuff?”

Rolling your eyes, you ruffled his hair which made him swat at your hand as you answered. “I suppose I could do something like that. I’m not making anything extravagant though. Let me know if there are any allergies I should know about.”

“Should someone call and ask Eddie?” Lucas piped up. “You know how he can get. He probably won’t like not having his throne again.”

“Eddie would probably have Hellfire here every week if he could,” Mike scoffed. After a none-too-subtle look from Lucas though, he glanced at Dustin, then you, and seemed to think better of it. “‘Cause of the uh- snacks, y’know.”

“Right, anyways–” Lucas took over, inconspicuously trying to guide the conversation back on track. “Someone should probably call him and let him know so he can tell the rest of the guys.”

Over the course of the past month, Eddie had snuck in a grand total of three times, and between these secret smoke sessions you managed to squeeze in conversation at the weekly Hellfire meetings. You called him every now and then when no one else was home, but that was it. While you suspected he’d told Jeff and Gareth, you definitely didn’t believe he would say anything to Lucas or Mike. Whatever suspicions they had, you just hoped they wouldn’t share them with Dustin.

You raised an eyebrow at the two of them questioningly and, in almost perfect sync, they stood and said, “I’ll do it!” You still had no idea how they got away with lying to their parents so often.

You suppressed a smile as you heard Iron Maiden’s “Phantom of the Opera” slowly growing louder until Eddie’s van creaked to a halt in your driveway the next week. The music cut out, replaced by voices and doors slamming. He didn’t even knock before he walked in, Jeff and Gareth in tow. Wearing a wide grin, his dimples were on full display as he leaned across the counter separating the front room from the kitchen. “Heard all this was your idea. You obsessed with me or somethin’, Henderson?”

“Excuse me for trying to be a good big sister, I’ll let them kick you to the basement with newspaper and AV club next week.”

He opened his mouth to respond but got distracted when he caught sight of just how much food you made. It looked like you were hosting a potluck; there were three different crockpots plugged in, at least four covered pots on the stovetop, and countless bowls and foil-covered plates scattered across the countertops. “Woah.”

“Did you make all this?” Jeff asked as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t eat anything before you came. I may have gone a little overboard.” 

The three of them grabbed paper plates and Gareth chimed, “How long were you cooking?”

“I don’t know uh– since around ten this morning? It’s really not a big deal. Dustin was at school all day and Mom was at work and I had the day off anyway, figured I had nothing better to do.” You shrugged, turning to get a few glasses out of the cabinet for them. “You can drink whatever outta the fridge. The boys are already downstairs digging in, of course.”

“Thank you, you really didn’t have to do so much. We would’ve been thrilled for a couple bags of chips and a two-liter.”

“Yeah, seriously. Thank you,” Jeff added, he and Gareth piling their plates high.

“It’s my pleasure, guys. Really.”

Eddie’s plate was still empty in his hand, waiting up for them to head to the basement so he could get a moment alone with you. The other two noticed, exchanging a knowing glance before making their way toward the basement door. “We’ll go ahead and start setting up.”

“Thanks, I’ll be down in a sec,” Eddie nodded. When the door closed behind them, he set his plate back down on the counter. “They’re right, you really didn’t have to do all this, sweetheart.”

“Gave me something to do with my day,” You insisted. “You’d better eat some or you’ll hurt my feelings.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna eat. You’ll be lucky if there are leftovers.” He spared a glance at the basement door before his hands found the counter on either side of you, trapping you between his arms. “Maybe tonight I can come back for dessert?”

“I already made cookies and peach cream puffs–”

He interrupted you with a laugh, “C’mon, now you’re practically setting me up for it.” You shoved at his shoulder, fighting back another smile, and he leaned closer anyway. “How about I just come back to thank you for all your hard work then?”

Tilting your chin up, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips and replied, “How about you make your plate and eat your food first and I’ll think about it?”

“I’m already on it. I’ll get seconds, too. I’ll get fuckin’ thirds, babe, you’ll see. The way to my heart is through my stomach.”

“Save the theatrics for the game downstairs, hm? They’re waiting on you.”

“You in a hurry to get rid of me or something?” He asked, maybe two-thirds playfully. 

“You’re here for Dustin is all,” You shrugged, toying with a loose thread on his Hellfire tee. “He’s expecting you down there and you know how he is, he won’t have any problem asking me questions about what takes us so long when we see each other.”

His thumb rubbed careful circles against your upper arm. “I really think you’re reading too much into it. You’re his big sister looking out for him and I’m the head of his school club, we’ve got plenty of stuff to talk about. Dustin’s not gonna notice  if we make conversation for a few minutes whenever we see each other.” His tone grew more joking as he added, “Besides, I seem to remember being owed a certain phone call that I’ve yet to receive.”

“It’s been a week. I can’t sneak you in every night, alright?”

“You would if you could though, right?” He smirked.

Shoving him away, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, Eddie the Banished is now officially banished from my kitchen. Get your food and go downstairs.”

His eyes narrow at you as he started making his plate. Between crunches, he spoke around a mouthful of chips. “You’re a bully, you know that?” 

Grabbing a roll of paper towels, you tucked it under his arm for him to take down to the rest of the boys. “Just make sure you all clean up after yourselves and maybe I’ll let you come back over after Dustin goes to Mike’s.”

“You drive a hard bargain, babe.” He stole a quick kiss before making his way toward the basement door. “But you’ve got yourself a deal. I’ll try and keep the noise down.”

“No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.”

When he left about two and a half hours later, he only drove two blocks away, circling around long enough for the younger boys to have ridden their bikes away from the Henderson house. “I could get used to usin’ the front door,” He chimed as he strolled back in. “Think I pulled a muscle squeezing through your window last time.”

Having changed into an old Judas Priest tee and pajama shorts, you were sealing the last few containers of leftovers and putting them in the fridge. “Uh oh, should I start looking for a new dealer?”

“See, that? Mean. So mean.”

“How about I let you go ahead to my room and light the joint sitting on my nightstand? Would I be less mean then?”

He frowned, taking a step in your direction instead. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help you clean up?”

“I’m already almost done, it’ll just be a minute. Promise.”

“If you say so,” He drawled as he headed down the hall to your room. The door creaked as it closed halfway behind him and he looked around your room yet again. He liked being in here, being surrounded by you. He hoped you wouldn’t find it rude that he opened the drawer he’d seen you keep your incense in, lighting a stick and placing it in the holder. The radio was already turned down low when he turned it on, a cassette of Black Sabbath still inside. Then he cracked open the window, taking off his shoes and jacket afterward. 

Holding the joint between his lips, he lit it and tossed the lighter on the bed before continuing to look around. A few necklaces were hooked over the corner of the mirror that hung on your wall. Mascara, rings, and a couple pairs of earrings were left out on your vanity. On your dresser, there was a framed picture of you and Dustin in the Hawkins middle school, your arm around his shoulders as he flaunted a science fair ribbon enthusiastically to the camera. Bottles of lotion and perfume sat beside it and he was obviously lacking a healthy level of self-restraint as he picked one up and popped the cap off to smell it.

He nearly jumped three feet in the air when you spoke up from behind him. “Did you wanna take a pair of panties too or…?”

“Well, if the offer’s on the table–” Still, he had on a sheepish expression as he turned to face you. “I’m sorry, that was probably totally weird of me–”

“Maybe it’s weird of me that I don’t mind,” You shrugged as you took the joint from him and sat cross-legged on your bed. “Thanks for getting everything ready in here. Obviously, I don’t need to tell you to make yourself at home.” 

He sat down backward on the chair at your vanity, facing you though his head was tilted toward the floor. “I swear I wasn’t like– actually snooping through anything. I just looked around the room.”

“Eddie, you don’t have to defend yourself. You were smelling perfume that was sitting out, it’s not like you were rifling through drawers. I told you you could be in here by yourself, I wouldn’t have left anything out I wanted kept private. Besides, I trust you.” Leaning forward, you passed him the joint. “And you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“You really aren’t upset at all?” He looked up at you through his lashes.

“Would you just get in the bed? The house is gonna be empty til at least 11:30 and we’ve still got half a joint. I was thinking of possibly smoking a bowl too.”

Suppressing a smile, he settled into the bed beside you. “So, does that mean I still get the panties?”

You replied by jabbing him in the side with your sock-covered foot, but his fingers wrapped around your ankle, pulling your leg across his lap. He traced patterns along the bare skin of your legs as he watched you smoke, occasionally squeezing at your calf or thigh. Feeling a little jittery as the quiet held out, he murmured, “I like your shirt.”

“Thank you, Eds,” You hummed back.

Your little amused smile made his cheeks flush faintly. “Welcome.”

He was flooded with a wave of déjà vu as you crawled into his lap, cupping his jaw to exhale smoke into his mouth. “This feels awful familiar.”

“Well, we’ve got more time than usual.” One hand wandered the expanse of his chest through his shirt as the other placed the dwindling joint between his lips. “I was thinking maybe we could finally finish what we keep starting.”

“You sure we aren’t gonna get interrupted this time?” He asked jokingly.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” You reassured him with a small smile.

“Good.” He drew you closer, “‘Cause I’m thinkin’ we don’t need to go so fast tonight.” Your eyes fluttered closed at the first touch of his lips to your skin, the kisses he left growing sloppier as they moved farther down your neck. A small chill shook his shoulders as your fingers grazed the nape of his neck, caringly gathering his hair into a fluffy bundle and loosely tying it back. So fuckin’ precious. “Thank you, sweetheart. You always think of everything, don’t you?”

“I try.”

Hand cupping the back of your head, his lips molded to yours in a long, slow kiss. As he did, he urged you onto your back, fingers grazing your lips as he settled the joint between them. “That’s enough of that. You don’t have to think anymore tonight. I just wanna take you apart, okay? Make you feel good.” His fingers slipped beneath both your shorts and underwear, gently tugging them past your hips. “Been thinkin’ about this for weeks.” The way he pushed your legs back toward your chest had you spread wide for him, your arms rising to cover your face bashfully. Warm hands eased back and forth along the backs of your thighs as he pressed kisses to the delicate skin at the creases of them. “Fuck, you even smell good.”

Eddie actually moaned when he finally tasted you. His tongue soothed over your clit before delving inside you, hands grasping at any part of you he could touch. Meanwhile, your hands were weaving into his hair, further dishevelling his already-messy bun. “Eds,” You breathed.

He briefly pulled back just enough to pant, “Can you take your shirt off? Please? Wanna see you.”

The second you lifted it over your head he was groping at the newly exposed skin, back to burying his face between your thighs. Looking up at you with those big, brown eyes, he zeroed in on your clit. You gasped, “Oh my god, right there.” When he eased his middle finger inside you, curling it to prod at a sensitive spot, you were unable to stifle a squeal.

“I’m just hittin’ all the sweet spots, huh? Pussy was made for me, baby.” Your hand found his free one on the bed, fingers lacing with his as the other remained in his hair. “That’s right, I’ve got you.” A second finger joined the first inside you, spreading you open. Devoting his effort to making you come, his mouth only ever broke away from you to coo the most knee-weakeningly dirty words. Things like, “Want you to come all over my fingers ‘n’ then I’ll stretch you out with my cock, okay? Know you’ve been waitin’ for it.”

“‘M almost there, Eddie, please. Need more.” Distress colored your tone, muscles tensing and un-tensing sporadically. His hand released yours, choosing to drag the pad of his thumb over your nipple instead. The careful pinch he gave afterward made your toes curl.

Feeling your walls squeeze around him, he fractionally sped up the movements of his hand, tongue still tormenting your clit. Quiet gasping moans overpowered the sound of the music as you clutched at the t-shirt covering his shoulders. “That’s my girl, let it out. I’m right here.” He waited until you’d relaxed to gently draw his fingers from you– arms covering your eyes and forehead as you caught your breath, you didn’t see him lick them clean. His palms were warm and slightly rough as they moved over your stomach and sides, “Still with me, sweet thing?”

“Yeah, yeah ‘m here,” You sighed airily. “Just waiting for the stars in my vision to go away.”

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, babe.” His lips made a path up back up your stomach, sloppy kisses and gentle bites ravishing your skin. Instead, you urged him to kiss you before finding the hem of his Hellfire t-shirt to yank it off. Your nails scraped gently over the tattoos on his chest and he shivered, clutching your hips to his. The icy cold metal of his handcuff belt buckle met the heat between your legs, making you gasp into his mouth. You reached down, fumbling to undo the handcuff design. “Easy, baby, lemme do it.”

Standing from the bed, he took his time working his belt and jeans open, eyes slowly raking over you. His lips curved into a subtle smile making your stomach flip. The way Eddie looked at you sometimes was almost overwhelming. You could see the tip of his tongue poke out from the corner of his mouth as he pushed his pants and boxers down, immediately climbing back over you. “Condoms in the nightstand,” You mumbled against the demon head inked on his pec. 

He reached over to open the drawer, chuckling at the pre-packed bowl in the corner and grabbing a condom. You surprised him by taking it from him, tearing it open, and pulling him down for another long, slow kiss as you rolled it on for him. Humming as you slowly pulled apart again, he said, “You’re kinda fuckin’ adorable, you know that?”

“Don’t be a dick,” You pouted against his lips.

“You always think I’m teasin’ you and I’m not.” His nose brushed your cheek as he murmured, “Just think you’re the sweetest little thing. Let me appreciate you.”

You tucked your head into the crook of his neck a little bashfully. “Wanna feel you, Eds.”

“I’ve got you, honey, don’t worry.” The first few inches already had you clenching around him as he pressed in. His fingers laced into your hair, gently tugging your head back enough for him to watch your face. “There she is. Doin’ okay, pretty girl?”

“Feels so good,” You breathed out. Your voice sounded strained like your throat was tight. “S’big, Eddie.”

“I know, but you’re takin’ me so good. Doin’ such a good job, baby.” He brushed your hair away from your face as he gazed down at you, his thumb stroking over your temple. “Tell me if you wanna stop.”

Your nose brushed his when you shook your head no, nails digging into his shoulder blades. Eddie gripped your thigh, hitching it over his hip. Eyes closing, you didn’t see the way he watched you as he pulled out nearly completely before pushing back in. He admired how your eyebrows furrowed a little, your lips parting with a reserved moan. You still weren’t letting go.

He was gonna change that.

Forgoing the slow pace he’d been giving you to adjust, sudden quick thrusts of his hips had your eyes opening. You blinked up at him with glassy eyes. Thighs squeezing at his sides, you clung to him. Still supporting himself on one arm, the other snuck between your bodies to find your clit. The broken moan you let out made him smile. “S’that what you needed to make some noise for me? Love hearing you, sweetheart.” He hissed as your nails dragged down his back, but that smile never left his face.

Heat licked up your legs starting from the soles of your feet, your stomach tightening as a second orgasm crept up on you. He could tell when you came again, feeling your walls spasm around him while pitchy whines you couldn’t suppress escaped your throat. “Shit,” He panted out. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good. C’n I keep going?”

Nodding, you crossed your ankles behind his back, legs wrapping more comfortably around him and caging him in closer. “Wan’ you to come, Eddie.”

“Jesus, babe, won’t take long if you keep doin’ shit like that.” He kissed you, but your lips fell open against his as his cock ground deeper into you. “God, this pussy’s fucking perfect, baby.” His grunts became pronounced groans as your hands tangled in his hair, hair tie barely hanging on. He gripped your thigh so tight you knew you’d look for fingerprints the next morning. You tugged his lower lip between your teeth and his hips jerked, burying himself as deep inside you as he could when he came.

Neither of you loosened your hold on the other for another minute or two– you just tucked your head into the crook of his neck and let your palms explore the expanse of his back while you both caught your breath. His weight was warm and grounding on top of you, calloused fingertips grazing back and forth along your side.

When you let your head fall back against the pillow you were met with Eddie’s big, warm eyes and soft smile. It was a little flustering, you could only meet his eyes through your lashes. “What?”

But he didn’t answer. He just cradled your face in his hand and delicately molded his lips to yours. It was only after that that he finally pulled out, making your legs twitch around his waist before letting him up. He tied off the condom and threw it away and as he pulled on his boxers, he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom? I’ll get some water and get the bowl ready.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You hummed quietly in response.

“Don’t need to thank me, sweet girl.” He handed you your shirt, watching you pull it on and head for the bathroom before he went to the kitchen.

Finding him back in your bed, bowl and lighter in hand, you didn’t hesitate to crawl in with him. Your back against his chest, he offered it to you and lit it as you took a hit. His arm settled around your waist and your fingers loosely wrapped around it. He took a decent hit for himself and finally spoke again as he breathed out the smoke. “Is everything alright? You’ve been kinda quiet– I can go if you want.”

Your hold on his arm tightened slightly. “No, not at all. Sorry, I’m just kinda…” Searching for the words, your thumb tapped impatiently on his skin and you nuzzled yourself further back into him.

“That’s okay,” He reassured. “I think I get it. Take your time, baby, whatever you need.” You hit the bowl again, letting him hold it for you this time and resting your head against his chest afterward. Eddie looked down at you, your eyes closed as you sighed out smoke, and he was taken aback again by how open you were being with him– how much you were trusting him with. Warmth filled his chest at the realization that you were letting him take care of you.

Over the next few minutes, your head seemed to clear a bit. Taking a drink of water, your eyes finally met Eddie’s again, giving each other a small smile.

“So, I’ve got a proposal for you,” He began.

“I’m listening.”

He passed the bowl back to you, gaze following your movements as he spoke. “I wanna spend time with you. Not just sneaking in to fuck around or stealing a few minutes when we see each other at Hellfire, I mean really spend time with you. Let me take you out to dinner or– or come watch a movie at my place or something.” His nerves rose as he kept talking, seeing your eyelids sink lower as you inhaled a lungful of smoke.

He fidgeted with the chain around his wrist until you breathed out a response. “Okay. It’s a date.”

 His face split in a grin, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

part one | finale | tmic masterlist

tags: @adequate-superstar @akiratoro420 @bbciwp @trixyvixx @yujyujj @nope-thanks @broccolisoupy @spookybabey @comboboo @thecraziestcrayon @mommybaby-witch @imvirginia17 @therensistance @peacheskiwi @skyfullofsong123 @hcneyedsstuff @aysheashea @prestinalove @ungracefularchimedes @psychospore @bellaisasleep @untoldshortsofthefandoms @ficsaremylife @ohmeg @twirls827 @bellasfavoritesweatpants @sebastiansstanswhore @444aslut444 @ourautumn86 @dream-a-little-nightmare @extrainsanity @poniesandcupcakes @trinuh @cantreadbutcute

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(so tumblr doesn’t eat the end of my fic again)

#too much in common #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #henderson!reader #18+ mdni #stoner!reader #eddie munson x stoner!reader

[fangirl-dot-com]

Chapter 16 - Chéri

Aha, so I went a different route this time and the POVs are all over the place! But I enjoyed how this one turned out. Hit me in all the feels. just a bit angsty but nothing too terrible!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter! much love from me

Like always comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Arthur hated the rain. 

Sure, you seemed happy when you danced with P and splashed in the puddles as you waited for the signal for you to get in your car. The smile on your face should have been enough to damper his bad feelings. 

But it was raining. And it was Suzuka. 

He felt heavy as he got ready earlier that morning. The sad smile on Charles’s face hadn’t helped either. They both felt it when their feet touched the asphalt. They felt it as they held onto each other for a little longer than usual before Charles got dressed. 

He tried to take deep breaths before the cameras turned on as he was supposed to help Jensen and Nico with the interviews today. Both ex-drivers seemed to understand the weight that this track had on the younger Monegasque, so they covered the heavier questions. 

Arthur could only be glad that he was technically supporting you today. The navy polo felt itchy on his skin. Sure, he missed the red polo with the yellow symbol, but navy was your color. It helped him feel closer to you, when you were kilometers away in your car. 

He could tell people wanted to ask. He knew they were itching to just say, “How does it feel to be back on the circuit that killed your godfather.” But, they’d never ask, they would just send sad smiles that didn’t quite reach anyone’s eyes. 

Even you, his smiley best friend, could tell something was off. 

Arthur’s hands itched more than the skin under the polo. He would never be able to explain the sensation, but they itched. Maybe he should hold a cold can of Red Bull to cool the burn, but that wouldn’t help. 

His eyes were strained as he watched the data computer in front of him. He checked and checked again. 

Your tires would be fine. There’d be no stray cranes or tractors. The car was safe. 

Well, that’s what everyone told him and Charles 9 years ago.  

You scared him when you put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Jumpy today?” you questioned. You were already in your thick race suit, a helmet was in your hands. It wasn’t anything special, just your plain navy and gold one. You had already showed him your special one for Miami. 

He shrugged, not knowing how to answer. “A bit.” 

A sad smile formed on your face. Right now, he didn’t need words. He just needed you and Charles to be safe, and not be in the car this weekend. 

He finally sighed and turned to face you as he took your helmet in your hands. For a moment, he thought about smashing the damn thing, since he knew you didn’t have a backup. But what would be the point. 

He placed the lid on your head, keeping it above your forehead. “Starting pole today?” 

Now your smile was genuine. “Yep! Thur, I have a chance to win this!” 

He tried to mirror the smile, but again, it didn’t reach his eyes. Normally, he’d wait to kiss the “forehead” of you helmet, but today he needed a little something extra. 

Your eyes closed as he leaned in and placed a kiss on your head, almost between your eyes. You placed your hands on top of his, where they were still holding your helmet as a mushroom hat. 

You whispered, “Are you ok?” 

Arthur backed up just a bit. “Like you said, a bit jumpy.” 

Looking back, you knew you should have listened to the warning bells that were going off in your head. Arthur was rarely jumpy. 

And he loved the rain. 

You stepped closer and gave him a hug. Tears might have pooled at his lash line, but he’d never admit to it. He squeezed just a bit tighter before letting you go, so you could get into your car. 

Another hand was placed on his shoulder. His eyes met the figure of Kelly, who was holding P. Her eyes, he thinks, were trying to tell him that you’d be alright. That Charles would be alright. And that nothing would go wrong. 

How wrong she was.

Starting Grid: 

Y/n L/n 

Max Verstappen 

Charles Leclerc 

Fernando Alonso 

Carlos Sainz 

Lewis Hamilton 

Lando Norris 

Lance Stroll 

Oscar Piastri 

George Russell 

Alex Albon 

Pierre Gasly 

Logan Sargeant 

Esteban Ocon 

Yuki Tsunoda

Daniel Ricciardo 

Nico Hulkenberg 

Valtteri Bottas 

Zhou Guanyu 

Kevin Magnussen 

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Japanese Grand Prix. Y/n L/n gets a good start down the first straight with her teammate Max Verstappen right behind her. Charles Leclerc goes wide, trying to gain the position around Verstappen, as the Dutchman is still trying to get the jump ahead on his rookie teammate and does he have it on the first turn? 

“No he does not! Y/n L/n leads the Japanese Grand Prix!” 

Was it normal if his heart was racing just as fast as these cars were? Well, for some fans it would be due to excitement. And, deep down, Arthur was very excited. You were doing everything that you ever dreamed of doing. 

You’d make 5-year-old Y/n proud. 

“Looks like the rain is drying up a bit. We’ll see who gets called into the pits first, and it looks like our race leader has been called in to switch. Now, she started on the intermediates and looks like she’ll be going to the hards. Weird call, but so far this season she has been on the bad end of tyre degradation. So we’ll see if she’ll be able to keep her lead with the hards. 

“Seems as though she has started a train of pit stops and still comes out in P1.” 

Your car was cruising. Yes, your heart was racing, maybe going as fast as your RB20. And it was due to excitement. You were leading, with a comfortable gap. Right now, you couldn’t see anything in your mirrors. 

You pressed your radio. 

“Mitch, what is the gap? And will I be able to take a win or do I need to let Max by?” you questioned. You were hoping that it’d be the first instance. Your maiden race win on your fourth Formula 1 race. What a start that would be. 

Mitch finally answered. “Just talked to Christian. If Max is able to catch you, then you’d need to let him by. But, right now your pace is the same if not faster than his. So, kid, I’d suggest you keep making qualifying laps and you might be a race winner today.” 

“Copy.” 

Your car jerked around a corner as you continued to press. 

You were hungry, starving even, for that win. You’d show everyone who doubted you that you were capable of winning. 

Yet, around the spoon corner of turn 13 and 14, the RB20 slid a bit more than you intended to. 

Your finger flew to the radio button. “Uh, Mitch what was that?” 

Her response was immediate. “Your breaks are a bit hot. I know I told you to push, but please slow down on the turns.” 

“Got it. And who is the car in front of me? Did someone get around or?” 

“That’s Ocon. He dropped down after he pitted and will be a lapped car in about a lap or so.” 

Arthur listened from the pits as Mitch gave you some advice. The first time he saw your car jerk a bit too much, he swore he died right there. He was thankfully given a pair of headphones so that he could listen in on whatever you said. They were uncomfortable, but he’d do anything right now to be closer to you. 

He watched as you got closer and closer to the Alpine. If you got around it, you’d be home free with almost 10 laps to go. 

Your first win. He could almost taste it for you, and he wasn’t even hungry for a victory. And maybe after your win, it’d be a good time for a confession. 

But he had hope that things wouldn’t end like that. 

You’d get a win and he’d get the one thing he’s wanted ever since you scared him at the first meeting. 

“Mitch, he’s braking hard on the turns. Can you please let the stewards know? He’s going to be a lapped car but is defending like he’s in first place.” 

One of the Red Bull engineers immediately got on it. 

“Mitch?” 

Was Arthur hearing things, or did you sound panicked? 

“Yeah Kid? We’re on it about the breaking.” 

“He’s not letting me by! And my breaks are acting weird again.” 

You sounded panicked. Mitch pressed a couple of buttons as Arthur started to nibble on his fingers. 

“Mitch! My breaks.” 

“Kid, they’re overheating. You need to slow down.” 

“Mitch I need to get around him. Seven more laps left.” 

“Kid, I know that, but we don’t need you spinning out.” 

Arthur’s hands began to burn as the itch got worse. 

“He’s going deep. I can go around.” 

“Kid, it’s too risky. Just wait until he’s given a penalty.” 

“I can do it! I’ll be a race winner!” 

“Kid, hold on!” 

“I got it!” 

Arthur’s heart stopped racing. 

“Kid!” 

“L/n tries to go around the outside of Ocon and…” 

Oh.

The sound was silent and deafening at the same time. 

A ringing sound echoed in his ears as he watched your car flip and flip and flip. 

Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Asphalt. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Grass. Sky. Barrier. 

Black. 

The garage was in chaos, but somehow everything was going in slow motion? Arthur just stood still as everyone raced around.  

“That is the Red Bull of Y/n L/n that has gone into the barriers. It seems to be wedged upside down and stuck. Do we have any answer from inside the car?” 

Mitch frantically held down the radio button. 

“Kid answer me? Kid? Come on. This isn’t funny.” 

Arthur just stood still. 

Next to Mitch, GP was on the radio with Max. 

The Dutchman passed the accident site first. 

“Ah, was that Ocon? Serves him right for last week. Gap to Y/n please?” 

“Uh. That is a red flag Max,” GP sighed, “please come back to the pits.” 

“Fine. Tell the kid that we can drink a juice box or something.” 

“Just come in.” 

The rest of the drivers got similar radio messages. 

“Be careful. Red flag, there’s a Red Bull in the barriers Charles.” 

Charles’s heart dropped but he covered it with a chuckle, blissfully unaware. “Max finally made a mistake?” 

There was no answer from Xavi. 

“Red flag, return to the pits Lando.” 

“To the pits please Lewis, there’s a red flag.” 

“George, come in. Red flag is out and you need to get to the pits.” 

“Ah, Daniel, red flag. Back to the pits please.” 

“Oscar, please come to the pits. There’s been an accident and it’s a red flag.” 

“Logan? Pits please, the red flag is out.”

“Arthur!” 

The yell of his name brought him out of his stupor. His eyes met Mitch’s brown ones, where she was beckoning him over. He took the itchy headphones off and all but sprinted over to the pit wall. Immediately, Mitch put her own headphones on his head. 

“Talk to her. Get her talking.” 

It was a command that Arthur would take to heart. 

“Y/n?” Damn it, voice crack. “Y/n, please let me know you’re ok?” 

“It seems as though Arthur Leclerc is trying to get L/n to respond. Is there still nothing? The marshals are over there, and are trying, but she’s not out of the car yet?” 

Max looked around for your matching Red Bull. Two juice boxes were in his hands as he looked for your helmet. Had you gone for another lap on accident? He turned to the red-clad Monegasque who was weirdly frozen next to him. 

“Hey Charles, where’s Y/n…” 

The juice boxes fell to the ground as Max’s attention was now on the big screen that was broadcasting the wreck site. 

Next to him, Charles’s eyes were welling up with tears. His head swerved as he tried to find his brother. Curse him for wearing the dark polo. 

“Hey, Charlie?” 

A voice called for him through the fog, but his brain was hyper-active. Two hands were placed on his shoulders and blue eyes blocked the big screen. 

“She has a halo. Right now, they’re trying to get her out, ok?” Max tried to comfort the Ferrari driver, but was having some issues not crying as well.  

Charles mindlessly nodded. Pierre had come by a few moments later and brought him into a hug. It was then he let the tears fall along with his knees as he dropped to the asphalt. 

Max whispered as tears began to fall. “Come on kid. Just answer please.” His hands were tucked under his face, almost as if he were in prayer. 

Lando and Oscar held on to each other, trying to offer some comfort. Daniel stood behind them, hands at his sides. 

In his mind, he only thought, “Was he going to lose another friend to this track?” 

Charles was still on the ground, being comforted by Pierre as he rocked back and forth. “No, no, no. This cannot be happening again. Pas encore, pas elle. J’ai perdu Jules, je ne peux pas la perdre, Arthur ne peut pas la perdre. S’il te plait, s’il te plait, s’il te plait.” (Not again, no her. I’ve lost Jules, I can’t lose her, Arthur can’t lose her. Please, please, please.”)  

Logan sat numbly on the ground a little ways away. He had gone to get his headphones first thing to block everything out. He would laugh if he could at the next song that played through the speakers, but didn’t. Life is a Highway wouldn’t have the same meaning after today. 

Alex was on the phone with Lily, trying to update his girlfriend. You weren’t close with Alex yet, but he saw how well you treated his teammate. 

Lewis and George were couped up in the Mercedes garage. Lewis had refused to turn around and look at the big screen. Ten years hadn’t even passed since it last took a life and Lewis wasn’t about to see them drag your body from under the wreckage. George was trying to cope. Sunglasses were on to hide his tears and red eyes. 

At this moment, they were all prepared for what was to come: your body draped with a white blanket. 

Arthur was still trying. In this moment, it was just you and him. You were alive, you had to be. 

“Y/n? Please answer me? I-I can’t lose you. Ok? Can’t lose you like Jules. S’il te plait, tu dois aller bien. Nous avons encore tellement de choses a faire. Tu as besoin d’une victoire, et je te dire ce je ressens. Chéri…” (Please, you have to be ok. We still have so much to do. You need a race win, and I need to tell you how I feel.”)

A crackling noise came over the radio, right as he was about to give up. His breath hitched. 

“Y/n?” 

“Heeyyyyy,” you voice sounded. A sob escaped from Arthur’s lips. 

His hands didn’t itch anymore. 

“You are an idiot.” 

A groan left your mouth. “I know. Shit, I’m stuck.” 

Mitch, who now had another headphone set on her head, started to talk. “Ok kid. The RB20 was designed for this. You just have to keep kicking the side.” 

You sighed. “Ok.” 

You managed to scrunch yourself in the cockpit and began to kick. That was the moment that Arthur ran back to the garage. 

“She’s awake and answering!” 

Cheers filled the air while Christian crouched down. 

“Thank God,” he whispered, before standing back up and walking out to the pit lane. 

Kelly was the one to grab Arthur’s shoulder. “Come, I can drive you to the hospital. She’ll need us.” 

With a nod of his head, Arthur grabbed your bag and off he, P, and Kelly went. Vito quickly followed after them, hands full of your documentations and everything you'd need.

On the pit lane, Max watched as the wall of your RB20 suddenly flew away from the car. 

“Charles,” he barely whispered, but the Monegasque heard him somehow and stood up swiftly. A hand grasped his shoulder, and he whipped around to find Christian. 

“She’s ok.”

By now, everyone’s eyes were trained on the car. Marshals swarmed around it, ready for anything. What they didn’t expect though, was for one leg to swing out and then another. By the time they got over their shock, you were already halfway out. They quickly kneeled to help you further. 

“She is out of the car and looks completely fine! She will have to be taken to the hospital. Our calculations are showing that when she stopped, she experienced 54 g-forces. We don’t know if the race will be continued for the remaining 7 laps, but we will keep you updated.” 

Your feet squished the grass as you limped toward the on-site ambulance. You looked around and saw multiple cameras, watching your every move. You were thankful for some of the marshals who tried to push them away. But, in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to let everyone know you were fine. 

So, with a probably sprained ankle, you started to lightly bounce and raise your hands and wave. A few laughs were let out by the people around you. You pressed a finger toward you heart and then lifted it to the sky. 

Charles knew exactly what you were doing. He finally lifted himself off the ground, with Pierre’s help, and did the same motion. 

Thank you Jules. 

Max was back in the garage, now getting ready for the last few laps. He was angry. Honestly, they should just let everyone go, but a race is a race and it’s not completed. 

Mitch and GP came over. 

“Kelly went with Arthur and P to the hospital. She says that she’ll keep us updated,” GP told him. 

Mitch sucked in a breath. “We’ll let you know how she is after the race. And Max?” 

He turned to your engineer. 

“Win for her. Ok?” Tears lined her eyes. 

Max nodded, wanting to win for you. 

He put his helmet on and stalked toward his car. 

“And Max?” This time it was Christian, who had jogged up next to him. Max turned his head, full attention on his team principal. 

“Give Ocon hell for us.” 

Max turned back toward his car, eyes quickly darting to the alpine vehicle. 

Oh, he would. 

Race Results: 

Max Verstappen +25

Charles Leclerc +18 

Lando Norris +15 

Oscar Piastri +12

Carlos Sainz +11

Lewis Hamilton +8

George Russell +6 

Daniel Ricciardo +4 

Alex Albon +2 

Fernando Alonso +1

Logan Sargeant +0 

Yuki Tsunoda +0

Pierre Gasly +0 

Valtteri Bottas +0

Lance Stroll +0 

Kevin Magnussen +0

Nico Hulkenberg +0 

Zhou Guanyu +0 

Esteban Ocon +0 

Y/n L/n – DNF 

Standings after Suzuka 

Max Verstappen – 100 points 

Charles Leclerc – 66 points 

Lando Norris – 42 points 

Y/n L/n – 41 points 

Lewis Hamilton – 32 points 

Oscar Piastri – 31 points 

Carlos Sainz – 28 points 

Fernando Alonso – 23 points 

Daniel Ricciardo – 21 points 

George Russell – 20 points 

Alex Albon – 4 points 

Logan Sargeant – 0 points

Lance Stroll – 0 points

Pierre Gasly – 0 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 0 points

Zhou Guanyu – 0 points

Kevin Magnussen – 0 points

Nico Hulkenberg – 0 points

Valtteri Bottas – 0 points

Esteban Ocon - 0 points

Constructors Standings after Suzuka 

Red Bull – 214 points 

Ferrari – 139 points 

McLaren – 105 points 

Mercedes – 87 points 

Racing Bulls – 36 points 

Aston Martin – 26 points 

Williams – 4 points

Alpha Romeo – 0 points

Haas – 0 points

Alpine – 0 points 

f1 has posted *pretend there are no cars in the back of the second photo*

f1 Y/n L/n is out of the Japanese Grand Prix following a nasty impact! Mechanics who looked at her car found a faulty brake pad that caused an intense lock up on turn 15. The Red Bull rookie would have experienced around 54 G's when her car finally stopped at the barrier. L/n was escorted to the local hospital and was later released today.

liked by y/n_nation, maxiel_lover, iamred_iamyellow, and 94,873 others

y/n_updates I am so thankful that she's ok now, my heart stopped for a few minutes until she got out

y/nxarthur Arthur's and Charles's faces as they were waiting for her to get out, I was sobbing

leclerc4ever well, considering they lost their godfather at this exact circuit almost ten years ago, I felt their pain through the screen thur_thur exactly, Arthur's cries over the radio will haunt me for the rest of my life

box_box_express does anyone know who went with her? obviously the drivers had to finish the race

y/n_nation some sources say that Arthur and Kelly went with her as well as her manager Vito box_box_official thank you!

rb_rookie Red Bull finally released a statement that they will be looking into the faulty part, because apparently Max was also having the same issue

y/n_lover glad our girl is ok, but did anyone see how mad Max was? she locked up because she was breaking too hard behind Ocon. He needs to be stopped because this is Y/n's second impact and its all because of him

f1_fanatic ikr, and he was about to be a lapped car too!

b0x_b0x_nightmare she flipped almost 10 times, she could have died - Jules was definitely keeping her safe (thank you halo)

y/n_marry_me AND THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HER FIRST WIN TOO GRRRRRRRR

f1_gossip has posted

f1_gossip looks like Mad Max is BACK. The dutch driver was seen yelling at Alpine driver Esteban Ocon after the race. Some sources say he was needed to be held back and Ocon had to be escorted back to his own garage. Max also barely responded to any of the post-race media interviews and immediately left after he was done.

tagged: maxverstappen1

liked by max_max_super, f1_fanatic, y/n_on_TOP, and 24,028 others

f1-fan BAHAHAHA I was laughing my ass off when Max was yelling at Ocon because he deserved it

max_max the return of Mad Max (although I wish it was under different circumstances, I feel so bad for Y/n)

lestappenlove I also saw Charles join in on the yelling as well

max&kid well deserved for Ocon. Seriously though, he needs to have like a penalty or something

y/n_fanclub is it bad that I wished Max would have punched him?

max_is_da_best nope, because I think we all wanted that to happen

leclercxverstappen I know for sure that if Arthur was there, he would have gone off too, you don't mess with Y/n and expect to walk away unhurt

max33 he was FUMING

y/n.89 has posted

y/n.89 everything hurts but pookie made it better with Macas, Cars 2, and the Porsche 911 Lego set - I'll be back, that top step is MINE

tagged: arthur_leclerc

liked by ollibearman, lewishamilton, danielricciardo, y/n_updates and 73,911 others

y/n_nation so happy for the update! we're all so glad that you're ok!

oscarpiastri mad that he got a picture and not me, I was literally also there

logansargeant and I brought your blanket?? y/n.89 but did you bring me macas, my favorite movie, AND legos?

olliebearman that's it mom - I'm coming to visit before you actually die

y/n.89 SON! olliebearman MOM! arthur_leclerc son? olliebearman DAD? maxverstappen1 son?! charles_leclerc dad?! olliebearman grandfathers? landonorris hold-up

y/n_updates POOKIE?? HELLO?

y/nxarthur me rn, having the urge to say something about the word "pookie": STAY IN THE BOX, NO! STAY IN THE BOX, NO!

that_1_y/n_fan I wonder what the doctor said

y/n.89 basically I have bruises in the shape of my seatbelt and a sprained ankle from kicking the side of the RB20 to get out. just some r&r needed before Shanghai! y/n.fan703 oh my gosh feel better!

danielricciardo hope you feel better darl! Heidi and I will be over with some actual food

lewishamilton Roscoe says that you need some snuggles, we'll come over when you tell us to francisca.gomez coming over with pear and some other get better goodies :D y/n.89 I love you all!

maxverstappen1 was the Lego set really necessary?

arthur_leclerc YES y/n.89 YES landonorris YES oscarpiastri YES logansargeant YES maxverstappen1 ok sheesh, sorry

y/n-y/n-fan is no one going to address the middle picture??

author shhhhhhhh (its for the plot)

f1_fanatic Ocon better watch out cause it's on SIGHT

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @cassie0sstuff @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19

#arthur leclerc x reader #max verstappen x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #platonic grid x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #logan sargeant x reader #alex albon x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #fernando alonso x reader #f1 x driver!reader #formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one x reader #formula 1 x reader

[sincerelyrki]

everyone should know

your boyfriend couldn’t just sit around and watch another man shamelessly flirt with you. he had to do something, even if it meant revealing your relationship.

pairing : idol!secretbf!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings + genre : suggestive themes. secret relationship. jealousy. reader is said to have hair long enough to braid.

wc : 626

a/n : i struggle with writing drabbles but i hope this one turned out alright <3 i’m trying to update (almost) everyday whether it be a new miniskirt chapter or a oneshot (tmr it will be a miniskirt update, promise)

perm written taglist : @vousty

Sunghoon’s unmoving glare seemed to have no effect on his eldest member, his attention drawn to you like a moth. 

A flirty smile sat on Heeseung’s lips the entire time the two of you conversed, knees bumping as your body was bent toward each other.

The entire dinner Sunghoon had to listen to your cute giggles, watching as you playfully knocked your shoulders against the man sitting directly beside you.

He struggled with restraining himself, his legs almost shaking the entire table as they unrelentlessly bounced. 

His hands were in no better condition, knuckles ghostly white as he clutched his utensils tight in his palms. 

“Your hair is so pretty, did you braid it yourself?” The second Heeseung’s hand gently tugged on one of your braids, Sunghoon snapped.

The entire table flinched in shock as Sunghoon’s fork came slamming down, his plate chattering due to the force that suddenly came down around it.

Sunghoon rounded the table, his fingers wrapping around Heeseung’s wrist as he pulled his hand away from you.

 “I did it.” He declared a little bit too loud, looks getting thrown your way from the staff sitting around the neighbouring tables. 

Heeseung raised his hands in retreat, eyebrows raised as he matched Sunghoon’s look. “It looks good, but I think I could’ve done better.”

He gave you one more glance, winking at you as he finished his sentence, “much better.”

Everyone shared a look, their legs pushing their chairs out as they prepared to jump in between the two males before they could begin fighting in front of their entire staff.

“Oh really?” Sunghoon mused, head tilting to the side as he pretended to think about the possibility of Heeseung’s words being true.

Heeseung confidently nodded his head, his hands lowering to cross across his chest, his chin held high as he looked up at the two of you. 

Sunghoon moved his head to face you, his hand coming up to trace along one of the braids. “Now that you mention it, she was moving quite a lot.” 

Your jaw dropped at Sunghoon’s obvious innuendo, heat rushing throughout your body as everyone seemed to understand what he was referring to.

Sunghoon didn’t wait to see Heeseung’s response, turning his back to him as he gently entwined your hands. 

He led you back to his seat, his hand never leaving yours as he once again sat down.

He spread his legs, his knees separating as he slid his hips lower down the chair. “Sit,” He patted his thigh once, his hand tugging against yours as he pulled you forward.

Sunghoon helped you sit across him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he tugged your back taut against his chest. 

“Isn’t it so much more comfortable over here?” Sunghoon purposely breathed down your neck, his cocky smile growing as he felt your body shiver. 

“I guess he hasn’t realized that you’re my girl yet, I think we need to make it a little more…” He trailed off, his hands tightening around your waist before he began placing small pecks along the base of your neck, “obvious.”

“No one knew, they wouldn’t have sat me beside someone else if they did.” You almost started defending your close friend but automatically backtracked after realizing how angry Sunghoon was.

“That’s the problem, everyone should know.” 

“Should they?” Sunghoon knew you were just teasing him at this point, riling him up for your amusement. But he still took your words seriously, imagining the look on Heeseung’s face after he finds out about the sincerity of your relationship.

“They’ll all know by tonight.” 

It was safe to say that they all knew about the two of you by the time the sun set, Heeseung getting the hint right away.

#sincerelyrki #sincerelyrki : one shots #enhypen scenarios #kpop scenarios #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #park sunghoon #enhypen suggestive oneshot #one shot #enha oneshots #park sunghoon oneshot #enhypen oneshots #kpop oneshots #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen park sunghoon #sunghoon fics #boyfriend sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x female reader #sunghoon x y/n #sunghoon x you #park sunghoon drabble #sunghoon #enha drabbles #enha x reader #enha scenarios #enha x you #enha park sunghoon