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diejager · 6 months

Note

1: I love your blog so much you are awesome.

2: Can I be added to the cod tag lists?

3: Idea for venom-hunter fic: the boys don’t know venom auto-heals and they watch Hunter get like… shot or sm and freak out and it’s angsty but it’s ok bc they heal right away and it’s fluffy in the end (popped into my head and I wanted to share)

1: Hi Parker! I love you too☺️ 2: I’m sorry I didn’t see this before now, but of course! I added you.

What if Hunter was Venom? Pt.2

Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x reader

Cw: blood, injury, canon-typical violence, gutting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.3k

Price felt his age catch up to him when he watched an enemy unload his whole mag into your - Venom’s - chest, the dark skin rippling at the surface like water breaking with every drop. He knows that under the surface was your body, hidden under his mass and strength, but Price was still worried. How couldn’t he worry when he kept you so close to his heart?

Even after watching Venom rip apart the men who shot at him - you - spraying their guts around the area, blood painting over the grey asphalt, dripping down from the tip of his claws. Venom was a menace from close up as he was from afar, he could spot anyone from kilometres away as long as he had a clear view, Venom could hear so clearly, his ears much more attuned to your environment and danger.

You could easily be sent out alone in some situations, Venom coming in to help whenever he thought you were in danger, forcefully or not. They could hear the crackle over the coms, Gaz spotting your form jumping from one building to the other, swinging from tree to tree or rushing through the enemy line like a battering ram, something that König was extremely proud of seeing as a battering ram himself.

They learned from you that Venom feared fire, the flames would burn him, disintegrating to ash - it was a painful death - and loud sounds, high-pitched ringing that would make both you and him scream out in pain. Venom wouldn’t die from the loud sound itself, but every moment spent outside a compatible host was a second closer to dying. It was loud and painful, the pitch ringing in your heads until you completely separated, but even then, you’d still hear that incessant sound echoing in your head.

So there wasn’t much to be scared about, worry indeed, but never fear for your life when they had Venom to watch over you, he was fiercely protective of you, so much so that it rivalled their own. Other times, Price would put you in a squad of three or two men, making sure that you wouldn’t be put in a dangerous situation.

It worked for the most part an unknown contractor paid to hunt you down and get Venom to the rich scientist who was obsessed with the alien that he hosted and any other. They were taught the non-lethal way of neutralising Venom, to get both of you back to the labs to study. They would cut you open, probe your insides and possibly break you in ways that scared them, it forced Price to keep you beside Ghost or König at all times, two giant monsters scaring anything and everything around you. It would keep the threats away until they absolutely had to keep you safely hidden.

But it seemed that the PMC had found you before they could do anything, your scream piercing the field, a painful screech following yours. The ringing of what seemed like a high-frequency machine hurt their ears from afar, the painful sound made them curl inward, wincing with a loud pulse in their ears. No wonder Venom was deathly scared of high frequencies, it probably hurt both of you more than them from how close and how strong your hearing was.

Those who were able to, dropped what they were doing to reach you, alarm and fear wracking their minds. Gaz left his perch, flying in the open without any protection, an easy target for any snipers. Soap rushed towards you, hastily transformed with his body still steaming hot, his jaw snapping at everything. Alejandro and Rudy weren’t far behind, the nagual making his own path with Rudy following close behind him. Horangi tore his way beside König, his clothes drowning in blood, their bodies smelling strongly of ichor, a metallic smell. Price had to drop everything he was doing - transferring the encrypted intel from the database to the hard drive - to come to your aid, the only relief he had was the knowledge that Ghost was assigned to your side, your bodyguard.

When they reached you, they saw Ghost trying his best to take down as many people as he could that stood between him and your safety, and you - your situation looked dire - were still screaming, Venom’s black mass being slowly torn from you, throwing you left and right. It was chaotic, watching you sway around, hand clutching your head and face screwed in pain, even he seemed in pain. You and Venom were fundamentally connected, mind and body working as one, your cells sewed to his goop and his strength flowing in your blood.

In a frenzy, they fought to get to you, blood splattered and abdomens gutted, a stinging pain pulsing in their chest that only seemed to grow stronger with every second they heard you wail, choked sobs to cling onto the symbiote who made himself at home inside your body, to hold onto the creature you dubbed your own. Despite the semblance of success, they were panicking, booming orders shot across the field and over the heads of dying men, their shots were hastily landed and randomly aimed as if they were fresh-faced rookies rather than scarred and experienced mercenaries.

In the chaos of screams and shouts, Soap managed to destroy the machine, taking away the enemy’s only source of protection against Venom, but they couldn’t celebrate just yet, they had to finish this off before another echo was let out.

“Shoot them now!”

A booming shot followed closely after the order, a thick accented voice calling for whoever it was to shoot you down before you got away. You flinched back, curling forward in a coughing fit, sickly and wet coughs from your blood-filled lungs. You spat out red, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gasped for a breath, laboured and shallow breathing. You felt like you were drowning, dying by the one thing that kept you warm and alive, the life-giving and oxygen-rich ichor; it clogged up Soap and König’s nose, the retching of their throats and the heaviness in their stomach made them want to vomit, to force out the anxiety and terror in their bodies.

Little One, it was Venom, his voice laced with worry and exhaustion.

“Please, Venom,” you rasped, blood trickling down your chin as you clutched your open wound, fingers stained as red as your vest and jacket were.

Everyone watched Venom swallow you, darkness exploding from your back to wrap around you, covering you in layer upon layer of alien mass, forming a protective shield around you. Within seconds, venom came out screeching, large, white eyes squinted accusingly, jaws filled with long, serrated teeth opened threateningly and claw-tipped hands pointed at the ones who made you cry. He thrashed, breaking apart the many groups they formed and cutting through them ruthlessly, deaf to the silent screams and blind to the terror-filled look he received. Venom’s only priority was to exact revenge on the ones who hurt you and protect you.

He sunk back into you, letting you slump over, falling into Price’s arms, his worried mumbles about your injury and state filled your ears. He shook off your vest and patted you down, searching for the entry wound on your chest, hands moving frantically and ordering the others to hover around you, boxing you in for your own safety. He went on for a few, confusion growing more and more when he couldn’t find the bullet hole.

“ ‘m fine, Cap’n,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you slumped over him, thrusting him to keep you on your feet even after you slipped away to sleep off your exhaustion.

“You’re bleeding,” Price hissed, hands grasping your biceps. “Stay awake, love. We can’t have you falling asleep with this.”

“He healed me,” you grumbled, hurrying your head under Price’s chin, nosing at his warm skin for comfort. “Venom.”

He sighed, worry shifting off his shoulders, replacing it with relief. Knees bending, he picked you up, one hand under your knees and the other pressing you to his chest, rumbling with soft purrs to smooth the frown on your face. He nodded at the others, Rudy calling for exfil as they moved, covering you as much as they could at the LZ, waiting for the beating rotors of Nick’s favourite helicopter.

“Let’s go home.”

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora

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drudyslut · 2 months

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Pretty Blue Eyes — R.C

— summary: you see rafe at a party after he’d dumped you, and it hurts more than you thought it would.

— CW: 18+ only! angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, hurt/no comfort.

— a/n: i’m so sorry. i love angst and when i’m sad, i have to make y’all sad too. this angst prompts list gave me ideas and i used dialogues 3, 14 and 20<3 likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

I never knew losing him would hurt so much. Losing the one person I’d spent the last six months of my life with.

Six months might not seem like much to some, I understand people have gone through greater losses. But I’d fallen in love with him. Fallen in love with all the meaningless words he’d said. Fallen in love with his scent, his touch, his pretty blue eyes.

But he never loved me. I was just a game. Something to use to pass the time. I boosted his ego, made him feel special. And all the while, he was using me. Playing me. Making me fall in love with him, just so he could break my heart. It was random, and very unexpected. Four words was all it took to shatter my heart into a million little pieces — “I never loved you.” is what he’d said.

To make matters worse? He’d told me this right after we’d had sex. I gave myself to him. My whole self. And he took. He took and took, but never gave. He took until there was nothing left for me to give. He owned my soul, my heart, my body. He owned me, but I never owned him.

That was three days ago. Three days of crying myself to sleep, three days of not eating and drinking myself to death. Three days since I’d seen his face. I’ve tried to avoid him, but I knew I’d see him again. We live on a small fucking island for Christs sake. And he’s everywhere. He’s very well known. There’s no escaping him. And tonight proves that. He’s here. His pretty blue eyes watching me from across the room. I wish I could show him I don’t care, that he didn’t rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it…

But I can’t. I still love him.

“Are you okay?”

My best friend, Ashlyn’s, voice pulls me from the darkness I’ve allowed myself to crawl into. I slowly turn to face her, light brown eyes filled with concern intensely stare back at me.

I put on my best fake smile. “Yeah. Fine, why?”

Lie. I’m not okay, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t admit that.

She frowns. “You’re not okay though, I can see it in your eyes. Do you wanna leave? We can lea-”

I quickly cut her off. “No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go get another drink. I’m gonna need them if I’m going to last here all night.”

Her frown deepens, but she nods her head. I internally thank the Heavens that she dropped the subject. I don’t want to talk about Rafe and how he’d absolutely obliterated my heart.

She grabs my hand, lacing her fingers with mine before pulling me off to the kitchen, and out of the eyesight of the beautiful, blue eyed man I once had all to myself.

“I’m thinking shots of fireball. Shit will get you drunk so fast.”

I laugh. “The alcohol version of red hot gum, I’m down.”

Laughing at my lame attempt at a joke, she grips the neck of the bottle, grabbing two shot glasses next and filling them both to the rim. I quickly grab mine, tossing it back and swallowing the harsh amber liquid. A shiver wracks my body as the burning liquid makes its way down my throat.

I cough, placing my hand over my stomach. “Fuck, I forget how much that shit burns.”

Ashlyn chuckles. “Yeah. But that’s what makes it great. The burn of this can help erase the burn you feel from Rafe being a royal douche.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. She’s right. I prefer the burn of the liquor over the burn of Rafe and his heartbreaking words.

She quickly fills the shot glasses again, handing me mine and watching as I down the amber liquid once more.

I slam the shot glass back on the counter. “Another, please.”

She smiles widely. “Atta girl. You’ll forget about the smug bastard by the end of the night at this rate.”

***

Ashlyn was right. I was…. twenty shots in?? I don’t fucking know, I was drunk. And I wasn’t thinking about the pretty blue eyed man.

I’m about to take another shot when a voice I didn’t want to hear anytime soon has me dropping the glass on the floor, clear liquid spilling at my feet as the glass shatters — representing my heart because of him.

“Y/N… I think you should cut yourself off and go home.. I’ll take you.”

I snap my head in his direction, those damn pretty blue eyes staring down at me. Looking at me like I actually meant something to him. Lies. He doesn’t give a fuck. He just doesn’t want me embarrassing him tonight. Fuck him.

With shaky hands, I grab another glass from the counter, my eyes never leaving his. I reach out and find the tall, glass bottle of Tito’s, pouring myself another shot and then downing it with my eyes on his.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

He sighs, setting his beer bottle on the counter and placing his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes search my face.

“Y/N. Please, go home. You’re drunk, and you’re hurting.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. Fuck him for trying to pretend he cares. He doesn’t give a shit about me. And I’m done caring about him.

“Stop acting like you give a fuck about me, Rafe. You dumped me. So it’s done. I just want to get drunk, and fucking forget I ever loved you.”

He glances behind me, his eyes taking in everyone that’s watching us. “Hey, can we please go talk outside?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he grabs my hand, pulling me outside. I’m so drunk I can’t fight him off. He pulls me all the way down the stairs of the front porch and down the long driveway until we reach his truck.

He opens the passenger door, tossing me inside and slamming it shut behind him. My heavy eyes watch him round the front of the truck before he hops inside the driver seat. He pulls the keys out of his pocket, sticking them into the ignition and bringing the truck to life.

I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. “Where the fuck are you taking me, Rafe?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye before placing them back on the road. “Home.” comes his clipped answer.

I lean my head against the window. Why does he do this? He left me. Why does he care if I’m drunk at a party or not? Why can’t he just leave me alone and let me heal?

The smell of leather and his cologne fills my nose. I feel the tears begin burning the backs of my eyes, and I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I lift my head, turning my head to the side to look at him. He still looks so good, and it hurts. He has one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel and the other lays lazily in his lap.

He has on a tight baby blue polo, and khakis with a backwards hat on. I want him to kiss me, and tell me everything will be okay. Tell me that he made a mistake and he does love me. But I know that won’t happen. He meant what he said, and there’s no getting him back, no matter how badly I want him back.

A few minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway of my parents house. He puts the truck in park and hops out, rounding the truck to my side and opening the door for me.

He reaches his hand out, and I take it. My heart pulls in my chest at the feel of his touch again. I miss him.

He helps me out of the truck, and walks me to the front door. I turn and face him, wanting to get some things off my chest before he goes.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask softly, tears stinging at my eyes and threatening to spill.

He sighs, and the look in his eyes hold slight regret. “I can’t answer that… I just, I didn’t want to be with you anymore. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process, but I couldn’t pretend to love you when I didn’t.”

The first tear falls, and I blink rapidly, swiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I still don’t understand what I did wrong..”

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can’t stop the sob that is pulled from me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N… I promise. I know this is so cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I just couldn’t commit.”

The tears are now flowing uncontrollably down my face and my body is shaking. I’m in pain. And he’s making it worse.

“I love you, Rafe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.. I just can’t. You need to stop loving me.”

I choke out a sob. “I don’t want to love you anymore. But I do.”

He sighs, letting his head fall and his eyes look to the ground.

This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I’m not getting him back. I’ll never have Rafe Cameron in my life again. And that thought alone has me spiraling into a depression I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back from.

“Say something, Rafe.” I choke out.

His head lifts, and his eyes find mine again. He’s went from looking regretful, to angry in just seconds.

“What do you want me to say? I left you. And now you’re showing up to my friend’s house, getting fucking wasted and causing a scene. What the fuck do you want from me? I can’t fucking force myself to love you! I just fucking can’t! I’m sorry, but that’s the fucking truth. I never fucking loved you, Y/N. Let it the fuck go.”

Another harsh sob wracks my body as I come to terms with the fact that he truly never loved me. He never cared about me. He used me, and I let him. I grab my house key out of my small purse and stick it into the lock. I push open the front door, turning to face him before I walk inside, I say, “I could have lived without knowing you never meant anything you told me. You fucking broke me, Rafe. You ruined me. A once bright and happy fucking woman, and you’ve shattered me. I fucking hate you, and I hope you’re happy. Please, just leave me the fuck alone.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I slam the door in his face, quickly locking it and sliding my back down the door until my ass hits the floor. I bring my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself. I let out a loud scream, knowing my parents aren’t home tonight. Sobs wrack my entire body and I feel the physical pain in my chest from where he once lived. He fucking broke me, and I will never forgive him for that.

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lorelai-lilith @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust @sylverdragon @ditzyzombiesblog @the-sylver-dragon @nattywatty @urfavpersonality @stupidbxnny @mattyskies @corpsebridenightamare

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron brainrot #obx angst #rafe angst #heartbreak #hurt/no comfort #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader

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thebirdandthebee · 1 year

Text

Act Accordingly

Dipping my toes into the Rooster pool here. Using the jealousy prompt “I don’t like them all looking at you.” No real smut, but allusions to it. Thanks for all the love on Aw Honey Honey! If you like this one, don’t keep it to yourself :)

Title: Act Accordingly Rooster just wants you to act accordingly. WC: 3596

There were few things more relaxing than knowing your classes were done for the week, homework all taken care of, and not a single worry in the world for the next three days.

Your situationship was hosting a barbecue on the beach and he’d asked you to come and help set up a few things behind his friend’s bar, which had direct access to the sand.

Tossing on your favorite bikini and a pair of denim cutoffs, you threw a change of clothes amongst other essentials in a tote and head off toward the bar. You’d been hooking up with Bradley Bradshaw on and off for about eight months – sure, it sounded like a long time, but sometimes he’d disappear for two or three weeks at a time, and you’d get caught up in classes for nursing school as well.

Besides, you didn’t mind, he was an incredible lay and seemingly wasn’t looking for anything serious, so you went along with it – no matter how many times you wished your cut-short mornings could have dragged out a bit longer. You also thought it was kind of cool he flew planes for the Navy and didn’t seem to care when you’d pepper him with questions. He actually seemed pretty happy to answer your questions – but that might have just been the post-orgasm haze.

You’d been to this bar before – Bradley’s Uncle’s girlfriend (?) owned it and you’d met in passing once before. She seemed cool and would sometimes comp your bill, so they were good in your book.

“Hey!” Bradley waved you down from the back deck of the bar. He jogged over and you let your gaze rake down his shirtless body.

“I see you decided to skip sunblock again,” you commented, tilting your sunglasses down to the tip of your nose to take in his rosy skin.

“Not on purpose,” he rubbed the back of his neck, taking your tote from your shoulder and opening it up to grab the spray bottle he knew was in there. “Tits look great,” he commented, eyes darting up to your crocheted bikini top. There was a thin layer of nude fabric beneath the knitting to preserve some decency.

“Likewise,” you grinned, reaching up to tweak one of his nipples. “Now what can I help with?” You asked, looking over at a few empty folding tables next to an equally empty grill.

“Table clothes, plates, napkins, all that shit,” he listed off. “Pen and Mav are bringing food out, but I picked up some fruit and veggie trays, too.”

“Put me to work,” you smiled, sliding your sunglasses back up your nose.

“Wait a minute,” he tugged your wrist as you attempted to broach the table. You found yourself pressed tightly up against Bradley’s front, his hands lodged deep into the back pockets of your denim shorts. “No kiss for Daddy?” He grinned, that dumb, hot mustache stretching across his lips. “Can’t believe you just called yourself Daddy out here in the open where Penny and Jesus can hear you,” you scolded, a laugh ripping from your throat as he squeezed your ass hard.

“Okay, break it up,” you jumped away from Bradley as his Uncle stepped out onto the deck with two big rolls of vinyl in his arms.

“Good to see ya, Pete,” you greeted, running a hand through your hair. “I see you haven’t trained this one up at all since I last saw you.”

“Unfortunately some things are just inherent,” he shrugged but smiled anyway. “Mind helping me with this table cover while we have wonder boy go grab some propane?” He asked, tossing Bradley a look. The younger of the two men shook his head before disappearing into the back of the bar through the sliding door.

“So, you meeting a bunch of Bradley’s friends?” Pete asked, in a way that you were sure he thought was casual.

“I guess,” you smiled, “see ‘em from time to time here and there,” you added. “It’s all casual, Pete,” you added. The older man look contemplative but smiled nonetheless. All it took was half a roll of duct tape to get the table covers to stay down before you could start piling on plates, cutlery and big metal buckets filled with ice for drinks.

You were rubbing down Bradley’s shoulders with sunblock when the first wave of people started arriving.

“I’m gonna go plant myself,” you said, jabbing your thumb over you shoulder. Penny had set up a few beach umbrellas about halfway down the sand and you could feel your towel calling your name.

Bradley nodded and you could feel his hand skim your waist with a ghostly touch as you turned to walk away. Grabbing a White Claw, you headed down the sand, oblivious to the conversations taking place on the back patio.

“Who is that?” Coyote asked, eyes narrowing in on your figure. He, Rooster and Fanboy all paused in admiration as you peeled your denim shorts down your legs, stretching slightly before laying out across your towel.

“She looks…” Fanboy licked his lips, “smart.”

“That one’s mine,” Rooster said with definition.

“Your girlfriend?” Fanboy asked his brows creeping up.

“Well, no, I mean – we’ve been… seeing each other – like unofficially, we’ve been – ” He stammered out.

“What you haven’t planted your flag?” Coyote grinned wolfishly.

“I’ve planted my flag,” Rooster cut sharply, eyes narrowing.

“Sure doesn’t sound like it, Rooster,” Fanboy laughed. “Which means… fair game.” All three men returned their eyes to the beach, where you were rolling over on your towel, breasts pressed closed together and fighting against the seams of your top.

“Hey fellas, what do you want to eat?” Pete said, once again breaking up the conversation as he held up a big tray of burgers and chicken.

Down on the beach, you were trying your best to wiggle into grooves that didn’t tweak your back after standing for clinicals all week. Settling with your hands folded behind your head, taking the full brunt of the sun’s rays, it was a matter of minutes until a shadow cast over you.

“Couple of us are going to play some volleyball,” Bradley was blocking the sun from shining directly in your face. “Want to join?” He offered.

“Deal me into the second game,” you said, “the sun feels so good,” you sighed. “I want to soak it up a little bit,” you insisted. Bradley nodded, his eyes, covered by his sunglasses, trailing down your form. He knew what your skin tasted like, but imagined it sweeter in the hot weather, causing saliva to pool in his mouth.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he insisted.

“Give me a holler when you’re losing,” you smirked. He didn’t know, after all, that you played DI in college. He balled up his Hawaiian shirt, tossing it over to land on your half-empty beach bag.

The game started up as more and more of Bradley’s friend filtered in, joining him only about forty feet away from your little camp site. As the sun passed peak in the sky, it was getting a little more bearable out. You couldn’t help but notice Bradley’s friends were overwhelmingly male and were, as expected, a little disappointed.

“Couldn’t help yourself?” Bradley asked as you approached. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat and you were sure his sunblock was already long gone.

“Just let me serve, Bradshaw,” you said, plucking the ball from his hands. Traipsing to the back corner of the court, you rocked back on your heel, delivering a devastating serve to the other side of the net. The other team didn’t have a prayer.

“It’s not fair! Rooster’s friend is a ringer!” A chiseled blonde called from the other team.

“It’s good to meet Bradley’s friend,” you looked over to see a hand extended to you. “Fanboy,” he introduced.

“Right,” you nodded, introducing yourself, “I forget about the code names,” you smiled, shaking his hand.

“Call signs,” another man with a lantern jaw and dark eyes interjected. “Coyote,” he added.

“Okay, okay, are we playing a game here?” Bradley asked, trying his best to keep a petulant scowl off of his face.

“Hey, we want to trade!” The only other woman in the group called out, “we’ll hand over Bob for Misty Mae-Treanor,” she added, making you laugh.

“Deal!” You called, jogging over to duck under the net.

“I’m Nat,” the woman introduced, “Bradley’s told us a lot about you,” she added. You blamed your blush on the sun. “This is Bagman,” she nodded to the blonde.

“Jake,” he cut in, “and Bradley’s told me nothing about you,” he grinned. You recognized this man from a few of Bradley’s post-work stories.

“Hangman, right?” You asked with a tilt of your head. His grin only widened.

Bradley was no better than any other man and it took every ounce of willpower within him to focus on the game as you countered him on the other side of the net. He wondered how strong that bikini top was, where your tan lines stopped and if you still had that little bruise just on the edge of your nipple where he’d bit you just a little too hard last week. It was okay - he made it up to you.

And God, you were really good at volleyball.

“Just take the L, Rooster!” Natasha, who you’d come to learn was called Phoenix, called out.

“Who’s hungry?” Pete called from up the beach. “Burgers are done!”

“Starving,” you said, jogging over to your towel, stepping into your denim shorts, shimmying to get them over the round of your ass.

“She’s single, right?” Phoenix asked.

“Who cares?” Hangman laughed, dutifully trailing after you as you walked alongside Bradley up the sand.

“How did you get invited to this again?” Bradley asked Jake, making your eyes go wide.

“Bradley!” You scolded, bumping shoulders with Jake, “that’s not very nice.”

“Yeah, that’s not very nice, Bradley,” Jake taunted. “Where you been hiding this one, huh? Afraid she’ll show you up at everything else you do?” He asked.

“Oh, yes, I remember you now,” you grinned. “Dagger Spare, right?” Jake slapped a hand over his chest, causing Bradley to shout out a honking laugh. Bradley was impressed by your memory, he wasn’t sure how much you were really retaining as most of your conversations took place on the periphery of sleep.

You’d all settled around a few tables, burgers, fries and all sorts of other snacks abound. You squeezed between Bradley and Natasha, who was more than happy to let you dip your carrot sticks into her too-big pool of veggie dip. You liked Natasha, she could hold her own amongst the group of knuckleheads and had already complimented your manicure.

You were listening to Fanboy and Coyote going back and forth on some sort of training story when you dropped a cold, white glob of ranch on your chest.

“Whoops,” you murmured, swiping your finger down across the swell of your breast before popping it in your mouth – not noticing that the conversation had come to a complete standstill. You also hadn’t noticed that your nipples had hardened in your top, rendering Coyote completely useless.

“SO,” Phoenix said loudly. “I’m grabbing more drinks from inside, who wants to help?” She asked.

“I’ll help,” you volunteered, pushing your seat back, but with how tightly the chairs were crammed together, there was no easy way to get out. Grabbing the armrest of Bradley’s chair, you hopped over his seat, planting your bare feet on the wood deck. “Taking your shoes,” you tossed over your shoulder, sliding your feet into one of the many pair of brown leather sandals lined up by the sliding door.

Unbeknownst to you, you’d grabbed Coyote’s sandals, but there was no way you could’ve known.

“Big feet!” You called, following Natasha inside. All eyes cut to Rooster when you and Phoenix had disappeared.

“Stop looking!” He said, frustrated.

“What am I supposed to pluck my eyes out?” Coyote asked, gesturing wildly, “they looked at me first!” Hangman shook his head with silent laughter. Bradley really wanted to laugh, too, and he probably would have if it was anyone else that brought their girl around – because that’s what he was trying to do – make you his girl. And he certainly didn’t like all the attention you were drawing from everyone else.

“I mean it, stop flirting with my girl,” he said pointedly, his attention snapping over to Hangman who simply shrugged with a flick of his toothpick.

“I’ll stop flirting,” Hangman drawled, “when she says she’s your girl.”

Bradley blanched. Sure, he was crazy about you, but you’d agreed on casual – even when his feelings developed into something deeper.

He loved ending up at your place after weeks away – laying around your living room, sharing boxes of takeout as he helped you study for the NCLEX. He’d been your patient, sitting for cast wrappings and vital tests, and he knew the exact location of your birthmark, right inside of your thigh. He liked to think of it as the doorbell to get to exactly where he’d like to go.

“Fine,” he rolled his shoulders, taking a bite of his dinner. He only settled when you and Phoenix returned with fresh drinks – holding your hand for balance as you maneuvered your way back into your seat.

“So,” Fanboy grinned, “how long have you two known each other?” He asked.

“Like biblically?” You replied, making Natasha cough on her drink. Rooster’s blush burned bright on his scarred cheek. “Hmm, I think eight months?” You asked, folding your sunglasses into the pocket of his shirt.

“Sounds right,” Bradley nodded.

“And how long have you –”

“Fanboy, you ever get those mystery stains out of the common room futon?” Natasha interjected. Fanboy paled and took a sip of his drink.

“So who here can tell me the coolest flight story?” You asked, “I’ve heard all of Bradley’s a hundred times and I want to hear something new.” You gave your friend a little grin.

“Look no further,” Jake replied, launching into a list of his own accomplishments.

The next time you excused yourself to head inside and use the restroom, you were cornered by Bradley in the back hall.

“Hi,” you said with surprise, having just tied your hair up into a loose bun atop your head. To Bradley, your neck never looked more kissable.

“Put this on,” he said, holding open his button-up shirt.

“Why?” You asked, sliding your arms through the short sleeves anyway.

“Because I’m not trying to pop a chubby in front of my friends,” he said as if it was obvious. “Where’d you find this swimsuit anyway?” You laughed, but clocked the look in his eyes nonetheless.

“Why are you so bothered?” You asked, leaning back against the wall, shirt unbuttoned.

“I don’t like them all looking at you,” he said, pressing you up against the wall hips-first.

“You don’t like them looking at me?” You asked with a small smile, “then maybe you shouldn’t have invited me to your party,” you added.

“Let me be clear,” he pushed his body into yours with more intent. “I don’t like them looking at you like you’re up for grabs,” there was a darker tone to his words and he chose them very carefully.

“And who do I belong to, Bradley?” You asked, looking up at him through those thick lashes with a glint that made sweat bead at the base of his spine. It was usually a look he only saw before you swallowed his cock whole.

“You’re mine,” he tucked a piece of hair back behind your ear, “and it’s about time we both start acting accordingly.”

“What happened to casual?” You asked, reaching up to tuck your thumb into the cleft of his chin, focusing his attention solely on you. “I haven’t wanted casual with you since the day I memorized thirty gastrointestinal disease flashcards with you,” he said honestly.

“That’s what did it for you, huh?” You grinned, “all that talk of stomach ulcers got you hard for me?”

“Actually I think it was after you passed your test the next day and I bent you over the patio railing,” he recalled, “Yeah, I think that’s what did it for me.”

“Should’ve said something you big lug,” you chastised.

“I should have,” he nodded, hands on your waist, thumbs swiping across you ribcage. “I knew for a while but it took my friends eyeing up these titties like they were the cure before it drove me a little nuts.” He mumbled, making you giggle.

“Maybe they are the cure,” you shrugged, “you think I wore this by accident?”

“The cure is between your thighs, and I need to be saved,” he said, ducking down to kiss you firmly. “Can we please get the fuck out of here?”

“Ditch your own party?” You asked, smiling nonetheless. “Kinda tacky.”

“Says the girl in the Hawaiian shirt,” he countered.

“Touché,” you nodded. “Tell them we’re out and I’ll meet you at the car?” You offered.

“Actually,” Bradley sucked in a breath, “I need you to tell them we’re out,” he recalled Hangman’s comment. You rocked forward, pressing your lips to his once more.

“Okay fine, but when we get back to my place - I get to be pillow princess,” you said pointedly.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” he grinned, and you couldn’t resist that stupid mustache, kissing him again. You pulled Bradley by the hand across the bar to the back door again, where Pete and Penny had decided to join the group as the sun went down.

“Sorry to say, it’s time for us to leave,” you announced, sliding your feet back into your own shoes. “But Bradley just recently found his ball sack and we’re together now – so we’ve got business to attend to.” Bradley narrowly escaped the shower of crudité that came flying his way and he parade-waved his way off the patio. “Penny, please bill Bradley for a cleanup!” you called, just before he could sweep an arm under your knees, lifting you from the ground. “He’s actually quite a good cleaner!”

You laughed as he deposited you right into the passenger seat of the Bronco.

“How was that?” You asked, “definitive enough for your friends?”

“Pretty good,” he nodded, bracing his arms against the top of the car, leaning into your personal space. “Better than what I had planned.”

“And what were your big declarations going to be?” You asked.

“Sorry to eat and run – but I gotta run and eat,” he growled, pressing his lips against yours in a hot kiss.

Your scream of laughter carried across the breeze to the back patio, where Pete had just clinked his beer bottle against Fanboy’s.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed Aw Honey Honey, you might also like Mighty Fine! This work is 18+

#rooster #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #rooster fluff #allusions to rooster smut #rooster x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #jealous rooster #top gun maverick #top gun fick #jealousy prompt

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thestarstoasun · 1 month

Text

The question that had ignited a change in Will had come completely out of the blue. It was just like any other day, a day spent in the comforting familiarity of the infirmary. The only patients were a daughter of Ares and Connor Stoll of Hermes – who had to be put on opposite ends. Nico was cutting bandages while Will lectured Connor on reckless pranks on the Ares cabin that ended up with him in the infirmary.

That was when Gracie walked in. Gracie and Will were close, mainly because she had clung to him – much like he had clung to Lee when he was claimed as a son of Apollo. “Hey Will! I have a question.” She looked up at him with the innocence a child should have. An innocence that was stolen by the rest of them through wars and death.

Gracie's green eyes reminded him so much of Lee, it was almost unnatural. Lee had gotten his eye color from his mortal mother, while Will’s blue eyes came from Apollo. The shade of green was something Will had never been able to put into words. Though, the many girls and guys at camp who had crushes on his older brother had plenty for them.

Will shot one last, narrowed look at Connor before turning his attention to his sister with a much brighter expression. His eyes softened and he ruffled her hair. “What’s up, Rapunzel?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see Nico raise a questioning eyebrow, which reminded him they still had so, so many movies to watch in order to catch his boyfriend up on everything he missed because of the Gods.

“Jerry, Yan, and I were in the attic of the cabin-“ Will could feel his body tense up and tried to make them at least appear natural. “The boxes up there had a bunch of names up there. Lee Fletcher, Michael Yew, Isabella Nightshade, Mckenzie Ayers, Juliet Solbello-“

“That’s Italian.” Nico interrupted, noticing that with every name Gracie innocently listed Will looked closer and closer to breaking a apart.

“It is?” Gracie looked his way with brimming excitement in her eyes, directing her attention to Nico. Will flashed him a distant, but appreciative small smile. Nico nodded, a reply to them both, so as he distracted Gracie, Will slipped away through the side door of the infirmary.

He knew what Gracie was going to ask as soon as she started to list the names of their siblings she had never, would never, get to meet. She wanted to know who they were and what happened to them, but Will wasn’t brave enough, or strong enough, to talk about it. Five…only five of his thirteen dead siblings, and he could hardly handle hearing the fact his younger siblings, (they had never met them. They shouldn’t be touching their stuff. What if it gets lost? Or broken? What if there’s nothing left of them to remind Will that they lived?) had found the Apollo kids' biggest secret. The last remains of a shattered family with a father of healing that couldn’t be bothered to save them.

Will went straight to Cabin 7, ignoring the looks of other campers. He saw Jerry and Yan looking at a picture a much younger, more innocent Will Solace drew of him and his big brothers (big brothers that would never hold him again. Not until he joined them in Elysium). “Put that down. I told you guys not to go in there.” He couldn’t help but wince at the harsh tone in his voice. Snapping at them wouldn’t help the situation. Will Solace had a responsibility to his living siblings first, as their big brother. His own feelings could be pushed down into the suffocating box where they threatened to drown him. “Sorry, please . I don’t want it to get ripped. It’s pretty old.”

Yan at least had the decency to look guilty. “I’m sorry, Will. You guys just never talk about any of them, and you, Austin, and Kayla always find excuses to not be in the cabin.”

“We all noticed, so we figured whatever you were hiding in the attic was why.” Jerry added, finally looking a bit ashamed.

Will took a deep, shaky breath and grabbed one of Lee’s flannels. Most of the ones he wore now were once Lee’s that, when the time came to pack his belongings, Will had taken for himself because he knew it was the closest he would ever get to one of his older brother’s hugs ever again. “It’s not because of these. It’s because of why they’re there. Why the people they belong to aren’t..” Will clutched to Lee’s flannel and put it on, despite the temperature outside being the reason he hadn’t worn one today at all. “Please, put the boxes and all their belongings back in the attic. They belonged to our older siblings. And I promise, I-“ Once again, Will had to pause and clutch onto the sleeves of Lee’s flannel. “I’ll tell you guys all about them.”

Will’s gaze landed on the old video camera that neither he, Kayla, nor Austin had had the heart to look at the recordings after Manhattan left them feelings emptier than ever. But, Will Solace couldn’t let his younger siblings see how much this really hurt him, so he looked over at them and smiled brightly. “Don’t feel bad, we all make mistakes. I gotta go check on Neeks, since I may have left him with Gracie.”

Will walked out of cabin 7 with a heavy heart hidden by a porcelain mask that was covered in cracks plastered together by the sense of responsibility and becoming head counselor and the oldest sibling, after being a former youngest, in the matter of hours during a war. Other campers looked through at the cracks in his carefully crafted mask wondering how long until it shattered leaving whatever Will Solace could be underneath it exposed for the world to see.

Part 2

#Will solace needs a therapist #Yknow that hc about Apollo kids like Will being sun kissed and their hair turning blonde #That's Will and Gracie in this #There will be more solangelo in part 2 I promise #will solace #nico di angelo #michael yew #lee fletcher #the sun and the star #gracie pjo #Yan #yan pjo #jerry pjo #solangelo #apollo cabin #heroes of olympus #trials of apollo

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lovecanyon · 1 year

Text

EPL!HARRY X READER

“What do you fucking mean that wasn’t a goal-“

“It means you didn’t make the goal mate.” Harry chuckles, passing Leo who was fuming.

Almost like a reaction, the player tries to push Harry down but he’s quick to stand his ground. Turning around, the Styles man swiftly shoves Leo down onto the grass and succeeds.

The crowd immediately grows loud when they see both players from opposite teams begin to fight.

Y/N who was in the crowd with Sarah and Amelia stands up to get a better view of her husband. After trying and trying to find Harry in the mix, the Styles woman gets fed up and rushes out of the VIP section and onto the field.

Thank god the boys weren’t here to see this.

“Harry!”

The familiar voice makes Niall stop and turn around to see a furious Y/N pushing all the players out of the way. The once soft spoken woman was now yelling at the men to break up the brawl.

And the surprising part was the men were actually listening to her, even the ones not on her husband’s team.

Slowly the referees began pouring into the flock of people on the football field, attempting to calm the situation down but they failed.

“I fucking dare you to say that again!” Harry grunts, throwing another punch to Leo.

“Mate! Stop it!” Niall yells, trying to pull his friend off of the opposite player. He didn’t know why people tried to test Harry. If you did one thing to make him pissed off then just be prepared for the worst.

The blood seeping into his jersey didn’t stop him, Niall screaming bloody murder didn’t stop him, the crowds yelling didn’t stop him.

What stopped him was the referee threatening his wife.

Very quickly he forgot about Leo on the ground and focused on the referee yelling in Y/N’s face. She didn’t seem scared at all, she looked like she was going to rip his head off.

Once he stalked towards the pair, Y/N immediately jumped at Harry and grabbed his face, analyzing him for any injuries. Not even three seconds into trying to find out if he’s hurt, Harry softly grabs his wife’s hands and slowly puts them down.

After making his way around her, Harry now glares at the referee who still was scowling at Y/N.

Harry didn’t like that.

“Threatening my wife huh?” Harry clenches his jaw, now facing the man.

“She can’t be on the field. I asked her numerous times to leave but she seems to not listen-“

“This is my field, I play here. The only reason why the league is still in business is because of me.” He grits out. “Without me, there would be no Chelsea team. So if my wife wants to fucking come onto the feild she can.”

“With all due respect Harry-“

“Mr. Styles, it’s Mr. Styles to you.” Harry snaps, cutting the referee off.

“Mr. Styles.” The man corrected himself with a smirk. Harry could tell he was trying to act like a hot shot in front of everyone, it wasn’t his first day trying to be humiliated by someone. “Your fines are going to keep adding up and I don’t know if you could pay that much-“

“You think I can’t pay some fines?” Harry scoffs, shaking his head. “Me and my wife could buy you. My newborn daughter could buy you. So don’t tell me I can’t pay some fucking fines!”

Later on after the match when Harry was at home watching Y/N breastfeed their daughter Eden he suddenly got a text from the team’s manager.

The referee from earlier?

The league got your request, he’s let go.

Have a good night Harry! Oh and tell Y/N, Glenne needs nursery recommendations. Goodnight H!

tag list: @harrysmatcha @harryspinkpillow @helen-with-an-a @florencepughily @peterparkerbae @toji-dabi-wife @fallonx @drphilssoulmate @cherriesrae @alienorknight @valluvsu @ivegotparticulartaste @ayeshathestyles @hazgoldenstyles @eiffelmezarry @tsukishimawhore @renatavieira @michellekstyles @eleanordaisy @shawnsblue @japanchrry @agustdpeach @hannahnikohl @whoscamila @ch3rryrry @msolbesg @seguin-styles1996 @futuristicpalacegardenpsychic @youusunshineyoutemptress @kaitieskidmore1 @cherryfragrancx @ssuziess @milkiane @golden-hoax @flwrmuse @sunshinemendes8 @your--sweetest--downfall @melllinaa @iluvjj @tenaciousperfectionunknown @cashtons-wife @stellarossii @scenesofobx @manifestrry @lomlolivia @b-reads-things

#harry styles x reader #dad!harry #epl!harry #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #husband!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #dilf!harry #harry styles fic rec #boyfriend!harry #harry styles blurb

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taavisplushies · 9 months

Text

Self Harm Alternatives

for anyone who needs it.

feeling angry?

cut up a piece of paper or cardboard

rip up a piece of paper or an old clothing item

squeeze a stress ball or something squishy

hold ice

dump cold water on your head

hit a punching bag or a pillow

have a pillow fight with the wall

go outside and break a stick

go outside and hit a tree with a stick

stomp around as hard as you can

go for a run

chew mint gum

cry

feeling sad?

take a warm bubble bath

hug a plushie or a pillow

talk to someone you love

play with a pet

watch your favorite show or movie

read your favorite book

make a list of things you enjoy

make a list of people you love

listen to happy music

go outside for a peaceful walk

try birdwatching

volunteer somewhere

engage in a hobby, even if you don’t feel like it

try a new hobby

clean your room or house

brush your teeth

cry

draw or color

feeling empty?

hold ice

take a cold shower

rub ice on your arm, face, etc

chew mint gum

focus on your breathing

make a list of everything you can see or feel

talk to a loved one

draw on yourself

dump cold water on your head

take a cold shower with your clothes on

lay in the grass

feeling guilty?

make a list of as many good traits about yourself as you can

think about it from a different perspective: if someone else did the same thing, would i want to hurt them too?

do something nice for someone else

volunteer somewhere

just enjoy self harming?

put stickers or band aids where you want to hurt yourself

draw on yourself with red ink or paint

draw a self portrait and draw what you want to do to yourself

talk about how you want to hurt yourself. include why and how.

think about the negative impact of self harm. think about how embarrassing it is to explain the scars, or how it could permanently damage your organs, etc

#self harm alternatives #mental health #not a plush #text

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evenmoreofadisaster · 10 months

Text

Click here for the link to the chapter :)

Edit: I’d hold off on reading this chapter until the issue with ao3 is resolved (´∀｀)

Edit 2: I've posted a copy of the fic under the cut, for those who still want to read it :)

The Fast and the Furriest

Running errands with Splinter was definitely not what One had planned for the day. Yet, somehow, the rat had managed to abduct One to a dirty place called ‘Walmart’ across the city, which had to be the farthest possible route to a grocery store EVER. As if the surprise journey wasn’t horrifying enough, One was practically forced to witness Splinter squeeze into skin-tight jeans and an ugly tie-dye shirt too snug for the fat around his tummy. The only way One could avoid the displeasing sight was to turn around and put on a disguise of his own.

Unlike Splinter’s bold choice of wardrobe, the rat had brought a loose hoodie for One to wear, blue and way too bright to be an effective disguise.

The long and unpleasant trip took half of the day, at least. One was stealthy enough to smuggle every item on Splinter’s prolonged list without getting caught by security, but the rodent didn’t seem to care. If One didn’t know any better, he’d think the unwarranted detour was Splinter’s annoying way of genuinely trying to spend time with him. But the slider is far too clever to be fooled by the rat’s fake pleasantries.

By the time One returns to the lair, both of his arms are burdened from wrist to shoulder with the majority of his and Splinter’s “purchases”. The rat himself carries a single bag into the kitchen.

“Boys!” the rodent calls as he places the items carefully onto the counter. One follows Splinter into the room and drops the remaining plastic bags next to the essentials.

“What’s this?” Two’s voice pierces through the near-silent air. When he looks up, One catches his brother’s scrutinizing eye from the entryway, where the living room blends into the kitchen. One matches his twin’s glare with a steady look that reflects the slider’s incredible tolerance for his brother’s temper.

The stare-off is promptly disrupted when the orange one walks in between them on his way to the counter. “Oh, sweet!” The younger turtle exclaims as he begins taking the grocery items out of the ripped bags. “You got stuff for dinner.”

Splinter helps with putting the items in their proper place. “Yes, Blue is a natural at… acquiring our necessities.”

One breaks eye contact with Two and forces a prideful smirk towards the rat and his “son”, ignoring the small portion of his ego that triumphs over the compliment. “Yeah, did you know you can get onions for free if you just take them without paying?”

“Aw, that’s great,” Orange coos.

Two scoffs from the other end of the kitchen as he trots inside. “Spirits, I wonder why that could be,” he declares, then grabs One tightly by the arm, “— and sidebar,” the softshell mutters and pulls One aside.

“Hey— what?” One protests.

“What are you doing?” Two hisses. “We have a mission.”

“Hey, Raph. Catch!” Mikey shouts. One looks up, watching the orange-clad turtle toss a jar towards his older brother as Red joins him in the kitchen.

“Woah!” The snapping turtle just barely catches the jar as it’s thrown. Just past him, the rat faces away from the boys to put some cereal away, one ear swiveled in One and Two’s direction.

One’s brows pull together tightly as he looks back at his brother, yanking his arm free to snatch Two roughly by the collar and drag him further out of earshot. If this conversation is going where One thinks it’s going, it would be much better to talk about it in the tunnels.

“Yeah, I know,” One retorts. “What do you think I’ve been doing?”

Two squirms. “Frankly? Slacking,” he bites back. One drops his brother when he feels they’re far enough to not be overheard.

Two whirls around. “Aren't you supposed to be a leader?”

“We’ve been over this,” One groans in mild annoyance. “I'm just buttering them up,” he explains. Honestly, it feels like he’s done so a hundred times. “Everything's under control.”

“It’s been weeks,” Two argues, “and we have made no discernible progress.”

“Trust me, it's all part of the plan.”

One notices the way Two’s jaw tightens in response to his excuse. One knows his brother well enough to know when he’s about to blow. “What plan?” Two snarls. “There is no plan, I don't see a plan!” Two throws his arm out, voice rising with his large gesture. “What is that over there I wonder?! NOT A PLAN!”

“Keep your voice down,” One hisses.

“I’m not going back empty handed.”

One pauses and regards his brother for a moment, noticing his clenched fists, bared teeth, and the sharp glint in his eye. The slider counters Two’s posture, leaning back and crossing his arms coolly.

“Why are you upset?” he asks flatly.

Two bites his cheek. “I’m not upset,” he counters. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

“Not taking this seriously?” One scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Okay, you’re not in charge. I am.”

“I am simply thinking about the mission,” Two argues. “To be successful, we need–”

One cuts him off. “That’s not your job. Your job is to follow orders,” he reminds his brother blatantly, flicking him in the forehead. Two flinches back with a hiss, but One doesn’t quit there. He steps forward and jabs a finger into Two’s plastron. “When you question me, you question Dad,” he continues without missing a beat, locking his brother in a firm gaze to make sure that he receives the final part of the message, loud and clear.

“Remember your place.”

Two’s shoulders stiffen, eyes flashing furiously but he doesn't argue.

One backs off with a stiff sigh. Really, what does Two have to worry about? All his brother needs to do is relax and let him do his thing! But One could see that Two is having a hard time accepting that. Again. His brother is smart, but sometimes he thinks too much.

The slider plants a hand on his hip and leans his weight on the same foot as he looks out of the tunnel, watching the Hamato family with disdain. If he could move this along faster, he would. But he needs to be careful. ‘Cause one wrong move could blow his cover and then what would he do? Start over? The likelihood of ever getting close to the Hamatos again is second to none. Especially since two of them are already suspicious of him.

He needs to change that.

One’s keen eye zeroes in on the rat, who is the more obvious threat to his plan. These past few days, the slider has noticed Splinter’s “subtle” ways of diverting One’s attention whenever he’s about to make a move. Which makes it almost impossible for him to do anything without getting caught— which is frustrating. And the lingering mass of questions surrounding the rat is just one more reason why he needs to be dealt with. And quickly. Before he ruins everything.

“We’ll get them,” One tells his brother, though his eyes don’t drift from Splinter. “Just play along until then.”

He can’t see Two’s face from where he’s standing, focused on the rat, but One can practically feel the tension emanating from his twin’s scales. He’s not as reassured as One would like him to be, but he knows that his brother won’t step too far out of line. And that’s good enough for now.

The rest of the evening was smooth-sailing. In other words, boring. One had taken his difficult brother back to the group, where they were preparing for dinner. As One observed them, he decided that the best time to take care of the rat is when everyone is asleep. But first, he’d need to know what he’s getting into— or rather who he’s trying to take down. Always know your enemy.

The slider winds skillfully through the dark tunnels as he hunts for the rat’s dwelling several hours later. He had made sure to note everyone’s whereabouts beforehand so he could snoop around. He discovered Raph and Mikey to be asleep in their rooms. Splinter was on the sofa.

It takes longer than expected, but One finally makes it to the two sliding doors. The shadows peek through a narrow slit between the doors, inviting the slider into the cryptic rat’s bedroom.

A sour expression twists One’s face when his enhanced lenses adjust to the darkness. The slider looks around the absolute mess of a room in exasperation.

How the hell am I supposed to find anything with all this junk?!

One’s claws twitch impatiently at his side as he debates moving forward. But with a lot of mental effort, he proceeds.

“Eugh,” One groans in disgust when stepping by a rotting pizza box.

As he explores the dump, One finds a modest cabinet flush against the wall to his left. There’s a sign, sloppily made, taped to one of the shelves, reading: DO NOT TOUCH. Which can only mean there’s something in there that Splinter doesn’t want anybody to see. In other words, I am going to touch everything on that shelf.

One leaps silently over to the cabinet and rustles through the shelves, looking for something— anything that will give him a sliver of information about who Splinter could be. But after digging through the collection of items… he finds nothing.

A terse growl erupts from the back of One’s throat. There’s nothing. Nothing. Just more junk.

One’s hands jump to the next shelf just when something clatters to the floor, snapping his attention to the ground. He tilts his head in interest as his lenses focus on the artifact. One bends down and picks up the round object, too big to be a coin. A medal, maybe? One’s thumb brushes the surface of the object before turning it over.

Engraved in the center of the stone is the Hidden City’s symbol. One raises an eyebrow. This is a gateway into the city. A key, they call it. The people who carry these are typically active or retired criminals. Usually thieves and smugglers, who like to pass freely in and between the Yokai and Human realms. People who have challenged the law before and aren’t afraid to risk crossing the line again. Or, even worse, the people who are paid to do it— like bounty hunters or agents of the council, who like to zap in wherever they like and snatch their victims. The slider’s brows pull together tight. If there’s one thing One detests, it's the thick-skulled thugs the government throws money at to get its self-righteous shady shit done.

So why would the rat have a key?

One’s fist tightens around the stone. This isn’t enough. This isn’t an answer, this is just another question. He’s just going around in circles that keep spiraling deeper and darker. Who is this rat? Who does he work for? What does he want? What does he want with them? One’s claws cut into his gloves and through his skin, drawing a thin layer of blood. I don’t need more questions, I need answers.

A dull scrape cuts One’s ears and he’s blinded by light suddenly pouring into his peripheral vision. One jumps and knocks his elbow into the shelf, then spins around quickly. The contacts quickly adjust to the brightened lighting but his nictitating membrane stays closed protectively over his eyes. The curtains open, revealing a stout shadow in the doorway.

“Blue.”

Splinter stands where the light bleeds into the dark of the room. One’s eyes narrow in the rat’s direction as he silently puts the key back on the shelf.

There’s a pause. “Come with me,” Splinter says. The muscles in One’s shoulders tighten. He releases his claws from their curled fists, eyeing the rat cautiously, searching for tells. But regardless of whether or not the rat has caught onto his snooping, One steps forward and lets the old man take him wherever he wants to go.

They both stay silent as they walk. One eyes the rat, mind lingering on the key. The very same kind he saw frequently as a child, when he and his family were on the run.

There are too many unknown variables. No innocent bystander would have a key like that. But at this rate, digging up the doubtless piles of dirt on the rat will take longer than One can afford. He needs to get rid of the rat before he stops his friendly charade and becomes a threat. Besides, they can’t have any loose ends scurrying around the sewers when One finally puts this game to an end.

One follows Splinter willingly into the garage, and checks over his shoulder to make sure that the door closes behind them. The slider keeps about three paces behind his target, watching his every move and waiting for the right moment to strike. The garage is isolated and sound proof. Two had transformed the neglected but generous space into the perfect place to work without grating One’s eardrums or burning his scales while he slept. It’s also the perfect place to exterminate a victim. He should thank his brother for his convenient engineering later.

One watches Splinter whip out Two’s keys to the tank. One remembers his brother telling him how he had just finished working on it, but needed a chance to test it out before they could use it. Personally, the whole tank idea seemed pretty useless, since One can just open up mystic portals to go wherever whenever he feels like it. Well, almost. Frustratingly enough, his weapon’s magic can only carry him so far before his heart either falters or gives out.

Before One can close in on his target, Splinter jumps up on the vehicle, using the side mirror as a foothold to reach the roof of the tank. The corner of One’s lip twitches upward in annoyance. He needs to be quicker.

One joins Splinter on the roof of the car just as the rat finishes opening the top hatch. Splinter drops inside by the time One has the opportunity to make another move. The slider huffs, but jumps in after him.

Okay, there’s literally nowhere to run, One thinks as he rises to his full height in the tank’s central control bay. The slider doesn’t waste another second after he stands before he leaps forward and swipes his sharp claws at the back of Splinter’s head.

But Splinter jumps into the driver's seat impossibly quick, dodging One’s attack effortlessly. The hard-hitting miss makes One stumble forward. “Shit,” he curses under his breath, but quickly regains his footing and swipes at Splinter again, who ducks just in time to put the keys in the ignition.

One misses— again— but he catches himself against the wall of the tank. His jaw is tight as he glares down at Splinter, who’s preoccupied with starting the vehicle. As the rat sits up, One leans off the wall and waits impatiently for Splinter to settle before going in for another attack.

As he moves, Splinter punches him in the stomach with his tail and sends One crashing into the passenger's seat. “Ugh!” One grunts, then stubbornly climbs out of the seat as Splinter slams his foot on the gas pedal and speeds out of the garage. One flies into the rounded and sealed back hatch.

Now in a heap on the floor, the slider gruffly and unhelpfully recalls the lecture he gave Two about how they absolutely don’t need a tank, but Two was still riding the high of his looting expedition and insisted it would come in handy. One’s current ordeal would be a great counterpoint to his brother’s outlandish claim.

As if this assassination couldn’t have gone worse, the rat decides to butcher One’s eardrums by blaring ‘80s music on max volume. While the rodent speeds the two of them onto the streets of New York City, One scrambles to the front of the tank, but slides and crashes into the wall when Splinter makes a sharp turn.

“What the hell?!” One cries over the ear-grating music.

“Buckle up!” Splinter shouts, though One has a hard time hearing his orders.

“What?!” he yells.

The tank comes to a quick stop at a red light and Splinter grabs him roughly by the belt and forces him into a seat, buckling him up tightly in one fluid motion. As the stoplight flashes green and the traffic clears, One watches in horror as the old rat flips neon orange, ‘80’s style shades over his beady eyes and floors it. One swallows a scream as the sudden acceleration crushes him into the seat.

“Woohoo! Isn’t this fun?!” Splinter exclaims, then sends the tank flying into a 360° spin on the surprisingly open road.

One grips the edge of his seat tight, claws tearing through the leather as if it were paper. When they continue on a straight path, the slider quickly unbuckles himself and slams his fist into the radio. The music cuts off sharply with a dying warble and soon the only thing filling the tense silence is One’s heavy breathing.

“What is wrong with you?” One snarls.

“Wh— rude. Didn't your alchemist teach you a good music taste?” Splinter retorts, making One pause and stare at the rat.

“What?”

One doesn’t recall ever mentioning Draxum in the rat’s presence. He’s made every conscious effort not to, in case Splinter turned out to be one of those bounty hunters or some shit, always after his dad’s ass. Which One thinks he could be, despite his unassuming… everything.

“Sit down!” Splinter orders before hitting the curb.

The tank bounces, knocking One back into his seat, though the slider doesn’t take his prying eyes off the rat. “How do you know about Draxum?”

Splinter’s ear twitches, muscles going stiff. “Uh—! Who doesn't know about Draxum, really.”

In any other circumstance, One might’ve brushed right past Splinter’s awkward defense. Because, really, it’s true. Draxum’s wanted posters used to be plastered all across the Hidden City. He and Two even gifted their father a framed copy for his birthday after they noticed their dwindling numbers. But literally everything else about that statement— the way Splinter said it, the way he avoids glancing in One’s general direction— makes One call bullshit. He’s hiding something.

One leans over the armchair, and narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

Tell me, you old rat. I need to know. I need to know if you’re a threat to my mission. I need to know that my brother is safe.

From where he’s sitting, One thinks he can see sweat glistening under the rodent’s fur, but Splinter doesn’t give him a good chance to wonder if that’s because he’s nervous or because of his reckless driving.

“I am about to take a right,” is One’s only warning before Splinter suddenly swerves in that direction.

One is thrown to the left, but catches himself on the other armrest with a grunt.

Splinter erupts into a fit of laughter and One feels his jaw tighten. “Oh, Blue! You are a riot, aren’t you?”

The slider whips his head around and snaps fiercely, totally unamused. “Okay, what’s the point of this?! Just tell me what I want to know!”

Splinter doesn’t seem to have noticed his little outburst as his laughter still echoes obnoxiously off of the tank’s walls. “Oh, uh. Yes. What do you want to know?”

“Who are you?” One presses again. “What do you want with us?”

“Want with you?”

“You have two genetically mutated experiments living in that dump you call a home and you have a key to the hidden city. Why?” He demands.

“Oh, that old thing?” Splinter pauses as he breaks at another stoplight. “Uh… I think it’s broken. What do you want with that?”

One scoffs, but he forces his voice to relax into an even tone. “Broken?” he asks flatly. Yeah, right.

The light turns green and Splinter continues down the road in a more calm manner.

“Yes. I am not surprised,” Splinter smiles to himself. “I learnt very quickly that my boys are very rambunctious. I had my hands full with just the two of them.” He falters, “Although… sometimes I wonder if it may have been easier if I had all of you.”

One could never guess, for the life of him, why Splinter would think that. The very thought of growing up in the sewers with this weird family makes One sick to the stomach, so he doesn’t dwell on it too much. “Probably not.”

“You remind me of Orange,” Splinter says, catching One off-guard and making him cringe. The rat’s tired eyes soften on the road. “He would ask so many questions when he was much smaller. Still does.”

The accusation leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but as much as One hates being compared to someone so small and inferior, he brushes off the jab for the sake of his mission. “Yeah? I guess it runs in the family.”

“Yes,” Splinter agrees after a moment. “I am glad you are back with our family.”

One falters. Our family. One’s stomach twists. Our family. Really, he should be thrilled that his plan is working so well, but the heavy sincerity in Splinter’s voice makes him worry that his plan is working a little too well.

One scoffs and eyes the rat awkwardly. “Really?”

“Yes,” Splinter says simply. “You asked me before who I am. I am a father and you are my son. Even if you do not trust me, what I truly want is for you and your brother to know that you have a home with us. You are safe here.”

And One is so glad that the rat’s old eyes are fixed on the road, because he is having a very difficult time processing Splinter’s response.

You have a home. You’re safe.

There’s a very clear and obvious difference in the rat’s voice. There’s no more deflecting, no awkward shuffling around the truth. He’s being genuine. The thought churns the slider’s stomach.

Still, One’s suspicions aren’t so easily discarded.

One watches Splinter for a long time before he asks, “Why am I here?”

“Oof…” Splinter winces and rubs the back of his neck. “That is… a loaded question.”

“I mean in the truck. Why did you bring me out here?” Why, if he poses no threat, did Splinter decide to drag him away from his temporary “home”, from his brother? If he’s supposed to feel safe, why isolate him?

Splinter raises an eyebrow. “Oh, can I not have a pleasant casual outing with my son?”

Oh. Well, that’s stupid.

“That’s it?” One says flatly. He thinks back to the grocery trip earlier that day. “You wanted to ‘spend time’ with me?”

Just behind the shades, the rat’s expression turns depressing after the question, which makes One very uncomfortable for some reason. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Before One can answer, the tank comes to an abrupt stop, sending both One and Splinter forwards.

“What? What happened?!” Splinter cries in distress, shifting the clutch around.

One groans and pushes himself upright. “I have a pretty good idea,” he mumbles. Right as he says it, a robotic voice filters in through the speakers.

“Shopping cart protocol activated,” the voice says.

“Ugh, I don’t suppose you know how to fix this thing?” Splinter asks.

As One leans back, he watches Splinter rifle through the glove compartment. “No,” he replies blatantly. “Not really my domain.”

Splinter pulls out a wrench. “Ah, then we will figure it out together.”

One doesn’t respond, but watches Splinter as he leaves the vehicle and walks around to the front, opening the hood to mess around with the engine underneath it.

The slider thinks about his next move carefully. After some very clever detective work, One’s concluded that whatever sob story motivated the rat to adopt a couple stray turtles really doesn’t pose any kind of threat to his plan. In fact, a devoted father could become useful.

It takes Splinter about ten seconds to realize One is still in the tank. “What are you still doing in there!?”

As lame as it may be, Splinter’s expecting him to help. Though he’d rather get his head shoved through a beehive, the slider decides to hop out and join the rat. For the sake of the mission.

When he makes it to the front of the vehicle, One finds Splinter sticking his nose right into the engine. The slider raises a brow and peers into the interior of the hood, where Splinter is working and bashing the wrench into the tank’s engine.

“I thought you were trying to fix this thing, not break it more,” One chimes in after a moment.

“Yes,” Splinter says, smacking the engine again and rearing his hand back for another strike. “That is what I am doing!”

One watches unhelpfully as Splinter continues to beat the tank’s engine into complacency. With unsurprisingly no luck, the tank remains immobile.

“Well, well, well!” a low voice rumbles behind them. One spins around, eyes shooting up to greet their ugly guest.

“Yeesh, that face isn’t hard to forget,” One mumbles as he immediately recognizes Experiment 00E1-Alpha 9, or as One remembers Raph referring to the sweaty pig as ‘Meat Sweats’, which he hates to admit is a much better name.

“Oh, good! Could we catch a ride with you?” Splinter asks the large mutant. “This baby's done all she can for us,” he says mournfully as he pats the closed hood.

Meat Sweats’s mouth twists into a smile. “But of course. I was just whipping up a meal, too. Perhaps you could join me.”

Splinter looks past him, at the food truck. “Oh, good! I was getting hungry,” he chuckles and willingly walks over to the food truck. One figures he’s probably unaware of the pig’s cannibalistic habits and the slider has no intention of warning him.

His straying blue eyes drift up to Meat Sweats, whose crooked smile gives One goosebumps. One considers bailing… but a distant… familiar… angry voice rings down the street. Everyone looks up.

“HEY!”

One whips his head around, instantly spotting Two perched on the roof of a nearby building. He leaps down with Raph and Mikey beside him and advances with a burning gaze directed right at One.

One winces. Screw that.

His brother’s wrath is a force to be reckoned with, and One has just spent much more energy than he was willing to expend handling the rat. Number Two is the very last thing he wants to deal with right now, and his brother’s furious march right towards him makes hopping into Meat Sweats’ murder van seem a lot more bearable.

Apparently, Splinter has the same idea. “Uh-oh. That is our cue to get out of here!” he says quickly before jumping into the food truck. One turns without a word and follows Splinter inside, where he is already leaping into the front seat.

“Blue, take the wheel!”

“Wait, what?!” Meat Sweats cries in protest after joining the pair inside.

At the same time, One’s head swivels around. “What?”

“Go!” Splinter shouts, crouching to the floor and hitting the gas pedal with his front paws. Meat Sweats is thrown backwards as the truck launches forward.

One grabs the back of the driver’s seat for balance, but as Splinter speeds up, the vehicle starts to swerve uncontrollably. One catches the wheel as he falls into the seat. The second he has a grip on the truck, and its direction in his firm control, his eyes light up like a kid with a new toy. He realizes now that he’s never driven a car before and it is thrilling.

And, he’s pretty good at it. His turns are rough, but considering the speed they’re going and the fact that they haven’t crashed yet, One is pretty confident that he’s uncovered a hidden talent.

That is, until something rams into the truck's rear.

One grunts as his upper body jerks forward. He steals a glance at the rearview mirror, and sees that his brother and his tank are right on his tail. Through the windshield, One catches Raphael yelling something to Two, who ignores him and slams another button on his console. A second after, three loud clangs reverberate in Meat Sweats’s truck, and One whips around to see three round dents hammered into the truck’s hull.

“Ohoho, so that’s how you wanna play it?” He taunts his brother in spirit right before he yanks the emergency brake and stops the truck completely. The two vehicles collide instantly, with the tank rear-ending the food truck. One faintly hears more shouting from the tank, which swerves but doesn’t stop. Though they’ve crashed, the tank’s strength and speed keeps both vehicles racing across Brooklyn Bridge.

“My truck!” Meat Sweats wails.

“What are you doing?!” Splinter shouts over the sound of screeching rubber as One jumps out of his seat.

The slider unsheathes his ōdachi weapon and draws a wide circle in the air, making a portal that he can step into and onto the roof of the truck so that Two can see him.

“Is that the best you can do?!” One goads his brother, flashing his sharp canines in a toothy grin, which earns a muffled shriek of outrage from his brother.

“You pretentious, self-obsessed, WRITHING LITTLE MAGGOT!” Two barks loudly enough for One to hear. His brother’s next course of action is to pull a lever, which releases metal appendages that reach up and shoot at One.

The slider veers out of the way and cuts effortlessly through the appendages. When the path is clear for him to cross, One leaps onto the hood of the tank and flourishes his ōdachi. He gives Two an obnoxious grin before stabbing his weapon through the metal, killing the engine. He tugs the sword free and swings it back in an arc to rest on his shoulder. As soon as he does, the portal he cut into the back of the truck blinks to life.

As the tank sputters and dies, One steps back coolly into the portal that takes him into the truck so he can rejoin Splinter at the front. The slider smirks as he leans against the emergency break to unlock it. “Floor it,” he commands.

Splinter cackles and pushes into the gas pedal. The food truck surges forwards as it regains its own speed.

“Wait— argh!” Meat Sweats cries as he flies back through One’s portal and out on the road. Oops.

One and Splinter only get a few leagues further down the bridge before something suddenly thuds against the truck and pulls, sending it into a spin back towards the tank.

“Hey!” Splinter shouts and One grunts, holding on tight.

When the truck finally stops, One has a clear view of the scene at the tank through the truck’s windshield.

Two stands on the smoking hood with a massive cannon aiming over his shoulder and into Meat Sweat’s face. The tank’s final appendage holds the larger mutant tightly in place as he cowers from the giant weapon.

“Bring them to me.”

Meat Sweats raises his hands and One barely has the time to make an escape before two tentacles shoot at the truck and punch through its sides. They snatch up One and Splinter and pull them out, dropping them unceremoniously just outside of the tank.

“Ow!” One hisses.

“Take the rotten lot,” the mutant sneers, although One catches beads of sweat rolling down his jaw. “I’ve had it with them.”

“Two!” Mikey cries behind the softshell. He flicks his kusari-fundo and One follows the trail of its cord behind him as the end unlatches from around the truck. He narrows his eyes.

As he faces forwards, One sees his brother hold his position a moment longer before his shoulder twitches and he powers down his weapon.

“Get out of my sight,” he hisses and Meat Sweats scrambles back. He glares at Two then the rest of the group.

“Blasted turtles.” The mutant chef snorts and turns, retreating to his vehicle. “I’ll just get takeaway!”

They all listen to the sound of his tires screeching off into the city. After a brief pause, Two turns around.

“I wasn’t going to kill him,” Two huffs.

“Oh, really?” Mikey replies, unconvinced.

“It was set to stun.” Two grumbles. “It would be idiotic to murder my own experiment.”

“What?” Raph says.

Two ignores the last statement and swivels his head around. His brother’s sharpened gaze falls on One and the fire in his eyes blazes. He snarls and steps down from the tank.

“YOU.”

One sighs and stands, but doesn’t have long before Two reaches him.

“You’re DEAD!” Two lunges at his brother. One grunts as his shell hits the asphalt roughly. He fights Two off with a hiss, swatting at him and kicking. Two fights back with just as much fire, managing to grab One’s right arm and press his knee into his plastron.

For the most part, One lets his brother push him down, generously allowing the softshell to beat him up a bit, since he’s down an arm. One waits patiently for the moment when Two’s grip lets up. As soon as that opportunity presents itself, One takes advantage and flips them around, swinging Two towards him and shifting out of the way just in time to shove him into the asphalt with a knee pressed into his back, careful to steer clear of the sharp spikes raised along the spine of Two’s shell. Two grunts.

One holds his brother down with one arm as he squirms. “Okay, you need to relax!”

Two yelps and flails his arm. “You took my tech!” He barks. “It’s still in beta and you ruined it! How could you do that!?”

“It’s fine! It’ll survive a scratch or two.”

“It’ll take weeks to find a replacement!”

“You’ll find it.”

Two throws his elbow back and One has to dodge the sharp point of its armor. “What if you got your stupid arm blown off, idiot!” Two seethes.

One pushes back and Two gets a gentle face full of dirt. “Oho, you’re lecturing me about losing a limb?”

Two growls. “Don’t start–”

“Which one of us is the one who nearly died in that accident? Oh right, it was you.” One pokes at the folded fabric covering Two’s stub. “So don’t you dare scold me about my lack of self-preservation.”

Two shoves against One with a warning hiss. One hisses back.

While the boys are busy with their squabble, Splinter walks by and takes a good look at the tank, which has stopped smoking. “Excellent job, Purple. This is a sweet ride.”

Both boys freeze. For a second One and Two stare incredulously at Splinter. When he looks at his brother, One sees Two’s eyes blown open wide, completely speechless. It’s an expression One hasn’t seen since Draxum last applauded Two’s skillset forever ago. One’s eyes jump back to Splinter, who is gazing approvingly at the tank.

What? That thing?

One scoffs, muttering, “It’s not that great…” as he pushes off his brother, who’s still too stunned to comment.

“What was that? Is everyone okay?” Raph asks, joining them on the bridge.

Splinter faces his son. “Yes, we are okay,” he assures.

Red glances uneasily at One before he looks at Splinter. “Okay… good.”

Mikey jumps up next to him, crouched low enough to rub his cheek on Splinter’s. “I’m glad you're okay, Dad,” he churs. Splinter smiles softly and pats his head. “Now, let’s go home!”

As everyone piles into the tank, One falls behind to watch what Splinter considers to be their family. He watches stiffly as Two opens the hood and excitedly shows Splinter what appears to be a backup engine. Something cold and greedy writhes restlessly under his scales.

His thoughts are interrupted before he can dwell on them too much.

“One!” Raph calls. One shifts his gaze to the snapping turtle as he finishes ushering Mikey into the tank. “You comin’ brother?”

One adjusts his sword and climbs into the tank.

#emd au #emd up

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thecuriousquest · 11 months

Text

What Happened to Your Tag?

Yandere Kakashi Hatake x Reader

Warnings: implied kidnapping, implied Stockholm Syndrome, slapping, stripping, electrocution, abuse/wrongful punishment, Yandere themes

Checkout my Master List here.

Part Two

—————————————————————————

His usually calm disposition turns into outrage, and you are in fear of your life. The silver haired ninja stalks towards you like a panther, making you cower in the corner.

“What’s wrong, Kakashi?” You ask nervously.

“Oh, I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong, Y/N.” He grabs you, forcing you on your feet, pulling you in close. “Did you attempt to remove the tags in your room?”

You know he’s referring to the tags that keep you within the barrier of your room. When you found that you could leave, you thought Kakashi was just being nice and letting you roam the house for the day.

“What?” You have no idea what he’s talking about. “No, all I did today was move a bookshelf and read. I-”

You never got the chance to finish that sentence as he cut you off with a sharp slap to the face. If he didn’t have a tight hold on your arm, you would have fallen to the ground.

“Ah! Kakashi, what the hell?!”

“If you think I’m going to put up with your insolence for one more second, think again. I could lock you in a cage. I could break your legs at any moment. Is that what I have to do to keep you from running off? Is that what you want me to do?”

“No! I wasn’t trying to run!”

“Lies!” He picks you up and throws you on the couch, tearing at your clothes. “Just tell me the truth.” He finishes ripping the last of the fabric off of your body. “Don’t force me to do something we both don’t want.”

Your lip quivers. “I didn’t do anything. I was just moving the bookshelf. I’m telling you the truth. Please, you have to believe me. I would never try to leave you. I love you.”

He sends a light jolt of Chidori through your body. You cry and convulse at the sudden shock waves ripping through your muscles.

“Tell me the truth. Be honest and this can end.”

You shake your head, denying any escape attempts. He doesn’t listen, and he repeats the cycle, every shock wave growing worse.

He doesn’t stop until you’re lying there with closed eyes. He makes sure you’re still breathing, and that’s enough to satisfy him. Picking you up, Kakashi takes you to your room. He opens the door and places you on the bed, pulling a blanket over you for comfort.

It’s only when he turns around that he notices your bookshelf is in a completely different area. It’s no longer across from your bed but next to your desk. Because you moved it, it caused one of the tags on your wall to fall off. He picks up the tag, eyes going wide with horror.

Kakashi looks at you with pity. “What have I done?”

#naruto #kakashi hatake #the copy ninja #yandere #yandere kakashi #yandere kakashi hatake #yandere kakashi hatake x reader #yandere themes #trigger warnings #triggering content #read the warnings #hidden leaf village

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looseratinthegarage · 2 years

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Hi! I've been thinking about this for awhile but how would slashers survive an zombie apocalypse with or without a s/o?

Slashers in a zombie apocalypse

Omg I had sm fun writing this!!

Michael Rz

•Terrified. Undoubtedly. Terrified. But! Would do remarkably well! He’d dig a hole somewhere and call it home.

•he’s a big man so food is an issue. But he manages.

•would have constant adrenaline if he has a s/o. He wants to protect you and keep you safe. If you die, especially if it’s because of him, he’ll…. He’ll walk unarmed into a swarm of zombies and fight them with his bare hands. Once he is inevitably turned, his body will wreak havoc while his mind is finally put to rest.

Michael Og

•lil man would be fine. He’d pick a house to make a base in and board it up.

•if the zombies are drawn to noise he’ll be totally okay. Dude doesn’t speak and is so quiet walking around. There’s no way he’d gain their attention…. Unless his unbathed stench brought them…

•I think he’d kill a bunch of zombies…. and eat them. Therefore turning into one. Unlike someone else on this list, he wasn’t trying to fuck around, he just needed food and went nom nom.

Jason

•Now this one’s interesting! Are we talking about zombie Jason? Or living?

•Zombie Jason is a fucking unit and would turn the most people. The only drawback is he kills extremely violently, he rips his victims apart, aka he makes a lot of crawlers or immobile zombinos.

•Living Jason I think would get very overwhelmed. He’d use his machete and or some sort of long ranged weapon that isn’t a gun.

•He’d do well for a long time, but Pamela would call to him from the other side, but only if he was alone or if y/n had been infected/died. He’d cradle his mom's head and possibly his s/o or a belonging of theirs and bury himself in the earth.

Hewitt Family

•Thomas goes into sheer panic. But less panic when he remembers how far from civilization they live.

•Thomas, Hoyt, and Monty if it’s before that even cut Thomas gave him will work together to make huge scrap metal and wood walls on the perimeter of their property.

•Luda Mae goes up into the attic to find scraps of cloth, old guns, and other helpful stuff. She’ll be handling the house and cooking as she normally does, while Thomas, Hoyt and again, maybe Monty, will patrol the perimeter.

•The tea lady moves into the Hewitt estate, and Henrietta brings her trailer into the encased property.

•they’re very stressed about how they’ll be able to provide food for everyone. They’ll turn one or more of the fields into crop land. Luda Mae, Thomas, Monty, and Henrietta will work the fields as well. Not Hoyt. Never Hoyt. I think he’s worried about breaking a nail.

•Long story short, I think they’ll do very well for themselves.

Sawyer Family (-choptop)

•Almost a complete disaster. Nubbins has a zombie chained up outside, he’s been calling it his gross dog. Drayton and Bubba tried to build a wall around the house, but couldn't do it by themselves. Bubbas panicking because they’ll have to eat his pet chicken. Drayton is taking his stress out on everyone. Grandpa is god knows where, no one’s remembered to check on him.

•Yeah they don’t make it.

Freddy

•he would either do amazing or instantly get turned, no in between.

•I think he’d bite a zombie- “how ya like that bitch” and then turn…. Like an idiot.

•Undead Freddy is far more nightmarish than living Freddy. Yuck!

•or on the other hand would kick some undead ass.

•his powers wouldn’t really help him? If my memory serves me well, the more people fear him, the more power he has. Zombies can’t feel fear, there’s only one thing they think about nom nom. Hence he’d have to use his claws or another weapon.

Yautja

•100% fine. Out of all of the boys, he’s good. Like- he’s going to be completely fine. Bruh doesn’t even live on this planet.

•He’ll make sure there’s not a scratch on his s/o, and gods forbid you get infected he can easily cure you with yautja technology.

•they can’t infect him, cus he’s, ya know, a fucking alien. So even if they do bite him, he’ll just be more pissed off then anything.

•He’s not worried about it, he can hop in his ship and just leave. Depending on your mate, he might let you bring family or close friends with you both. He’s not going to be happy about it. But he’ll allow it. Will also allow pets…..hesitantly….

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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25. Angst that ends in fluff #Bhits5k

25. Adopting a Pet

Steve had always wanted a pet. Every birthday, every Christmas he'd ask his parents for one. He didn't care what kind, big or small. There was always an excuse.

"A dog would rip up the cushions and dig up the yard, Steven."

"A cat would shed everywhere and rip the curtains, Steven."

"A fish isn't very manly, Steven."

"A snake is too dangerous, Steven."

"You'll get bored of a hamster, Steven."

Steve still desperately wanted a companion, something to keep him company while his parents were away, something to care for, something to love.

He once found a tiny kitten out by the playground. He took it home and hid it in his room, sneaking her scraps until his parents left town again. The kitten would sleep on his chest at night keeping him warm and soothing him with its purrs. Steve would've kept that kitten hidden in his room forever, but a week later he found a missing poster for it. The little boy to who he returned it almost cried when Steve showed up at the house with the bundle of fluff. Steve resigned himself to a petless life after that, on his next birthday he just asked for a baseball.

Eddie had always wanted a pet but never dared asked for one. Growing up he knew his dad was dangerous, he didn't want a little animal getting in the way of that anger. Eddie's father would throw cans at the strays around the trailer park and come home and hurt Eddie if he had a bad day, which was always.

Eddie would still sneak the strays some of what little dinner he had. Out his bedroom window, he'd feed a couple dogs and an old cat the rest of his microwave dinner. He cried when the old cat stopped coming by.

When he moved in with Wayne he still didn't ask for a pet, he understood a pet was another mouth to feed and he didn't want to be a further burden on his uncle despite the man claiming otherwise. He still fed the new trailer park strays, and he put out water for them in the summer, making sure it didn't freeze over in the winter.

Now he was older, he and Steve were freshly moved into their new apartment downtown. The apartment was small and poorly lit but it was the first place Steve could truly call his home. Eddie came home one day from work when he heard it. He poked his head into their bedroom, Steve standing in front of the closet a guilty look on his face.

"Steve, what's in the closet?"

"Well, certainly not me anymore."

"Hardy har, I'm serious what're ya hiding in there?"

Steve sighs before turning and grabbing something from inside. When he turns back around Eddie sees the tiny ball of fur in his boyfriend's hands.

"She was crying by the trashcan and she was just so small and I couldn't just leave her there, but I know I should've just taken her to the shelter, she's another mouth to feed and her fur will get everywhere and-"

Eddie cuts off Steve's rambling by wrapping his arms around his shoulders, "Hey, hey sweetheart, it's ok, I'm not mad, why would I be mad about my boyfriend rescuing this little cutie?"

Steve looks like he might cry again, "Because my parents would've been." Eddie holds him closer, being mindful of the little kitten. "Well, you know I know Dick has always been a dick, how about we head to the vet's to get the little one all checked out and then head to the pet store to spoil her with the paycheck I just got."

Steve smiles and that night when he falls asleep once again with a little ball of fluff on his chest and Eddie cuddled beside him his chest feels a little lighter.

Prompt List

I'm just realising my dumbass has two 25's and you probs meant the Break Up/Make Up one lol. Send the prompt again if you want that sorry, I'll fix the list now.

#only did a little angst #classic steddie has bad parents angst #Bhits5k #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #ficlet #steddie #fluff #light angst #adopting a pet

309 notes · View notes

sweet-villain · 1 year

Text

Lending A Hand ~ E.M

@haileighboi asked:

Here is another fluff one shot🤭

Ok so the reader is Dustin’s older sister. (Who is a cheerleader but is not popular she is more to her self always hangs in the library with her best friend Liz, who has been her only friend for years) When Dustin was going through her room look for quarters for the arcade (like mike did in season 2) he find her diary and reads it because he sees his DMs name in it a find out his sister has been in love with him so Lil dusty buns plays match maker. It works!!! Eddie feels the same they go on a date everyone is happy until it hits Dustin. Eddie is now dating his sister so now Dustin is in over protective little brother mode when Eddie comes around to see his sister. When ever you guys sit together he squeezes himself in, when holding hand he breaks it. Reader and Eddie find it hilarious especially when Dustin tries to intimidate Eddie by deepening his voice and has the little brother talk. 🤣

Sorry it is so long but I thought it was a cute idea.

Tags : : @ceriseheaven @josephquinnlover0 @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @stillfalling30minslater @alyisdead @witchy-munson @e0509

My Master List is in This Area

" Do you know the meaning of chewing?" you stared in disgust as Dustin scarfed down his breakfast like he hasn't eaten in days. Your nose twitched as he grin full mouth of food.

" Thank you for breakfast, mom! But Liz is already waiting for me as it is" you scrambled out of your chair bringing your half eaten breakfast to the sink. Your mom put her hand on her hips, waving the spatula at you. " At least grab some to go, hunny. I don't need my little cheerleader to starve" you shook your head, kissing her cheek.

" Let's go butthead!" you shouted towards Dustin who groaned with food in his mouth as he slide on his backpack. " Bye mom!" he shouted as he raced out the door with you. The both of you shoved each other through the doors as Liz stared in amusement watching you both.

" We're going to be late, move it Dusty bun" he groaned as he slipped out the doors first and ran towards Liz's car leaving you to mutter underneath your breath fixing your pony tail as you waved to your best friend.

" Took you long enough, Henderson" she playfully rolled her eyes. " Oh be quite you, start driving or we'll be late."

" Oh that's right, Miss I'm A Cheerleader, I need good grades but I'll stay in the library to be a nerd and shut myself from everyone else forgot I had such a dork for a sister" you reached to the back to flick your brother in the nose.

" I'm not one that plays a fantasy game and has a girlfriend that's miles away and sing-" you were cut off by Dustin tugging on your pony tail.

" That's rude! You little-" you started to say when Liz screamed causing you and Dustin to look at her while she drives.

" Henderson's I will kick you out of my car. I swear" she warned. You huffed in your seat mocking Dustin in the back who mocked you back.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You walked through the desks to get to your seat in English plopping down near the window over looking the outside. The chair next to you scraped against the ground and you knew who sat in that seat. It was your crush, Eddie Munson. He was your little brothers Dungeon Master too.

" Hey Henderson, you look a little spaced out. Everything going okay in there?" he asked tapping on the back of your head. You turned your head meeting his gaze. He had a small smile on his lips as he slouched in his chair with his legs out, spread.

" Yeah, I'm good. Let me guess you forgot to bring your notebook and a pen?" he pursed his lips as he put a finger on his chin and tapped it like he was thinking. You giggled at his expression. The sound brought his heart racing as he offered his hand to you.

" Would you, m'lady be so kind to give the young bard a piece of paper and a pen of your liking?" he asked.

" The lady would" you ripped out a piece of paper from your notebook skipping over the paper that had his name on it with little hearts around the eye before giving it to him. You offered your pen to him too and he took it with a brush of his fingers against yours. The touch caused your breath to hitch.

" Something wrong?" Eddie asked, catching it. You shook your head burying your face into your notebook as you flipped it to a clean page. He chuckled as the teacher walked in but Eddie couldn't help it but watched as you took notes. The way you were so focused in writing everything down.

He couldn't help but feel his heart race every time you'd look at him at the corner of your eye.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He looked at me today like I've given him a whole world into the palm of his hand. His smile made my heart flutter, the way his hand brushed over mine. I felt it. The spark that was there. Maybe I am overthinking it. Eddie Munson doesn't like me like that. I mean, look at me. Look at Chrissy Cunningham. She looks more like his type.

" Hunny! Time for dinner!" your mom shouted. You closed out your diary and stuffed in behind your pillow. Inside your pillow case where you were sure no one would find it.

" Coming!" you shouted as you looked at yourself in the mirror, fixing your hair. You hadn't notice Dustin standing outside your door pretending to fix his own hair like he was imitating you.

" What are you doing?" you asked with your eyebrow raised.

" I'm you" he says, " I'm pretty." His hand brushed down his shirt like he was smoothing it out. You groan, " You're so annoying."

" Look who I'm related to" you squinted your eyes, " you better run or I'll make-"

" Kids, dinner!" your mom shouted.

" Coming!" the both of you yelled back. Dustin ran down the stairs before you could say anything else and you followed him, plopping in the seat across from Dustin.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were studying with Liz in the kitchen for one of the tests that were coming up. She had made flash cards while you were making something to eat, she wanted a sandwich. Meanwhile Dustin was frantically searching around in his room for coins. He wanted to go arcade with the others.

A light bulb went over his head remembering you had a piggy bank in your room full of coins and some cash. He listened over in the halls of your voice and Liz, hearing you ask if Liz wanted some cheese on her sandwich. He rolled his eyes, you and your famous turkey sandwiches. They were good. One of his favorites but you gushed about to everyone.

He slowly opened your room fearing the door would crack and when it didn't, he sighed in relief and walked inside. His eyes roamed until they spotted the purple piggybank on your dresser next to a music box that had some of your jewelry in it.

" Yes, I knew you where here" he mumbled to himself grabbing it with his hands as he shook it. Our slipped more coins that he ever imagined. Why did you need all of them? Where you saving up for something? He shrugged and grabbed some stuffing them into his pocket.

In the corner of your bed, in the slip behind you pillow laid the small notebook that catches his attention. He looks back into the hall to hear you return to studying with Liz.

" Nerd" he mumbled to himself before plopping down on your bed. He jumped on it a little as his hand reached for the small notebook that was hidden behind your pillow. It had your name on it, the words " do not open" and diary all together on the front.

Dustin was skimming through it until his eyes landed on a name. Not just any name. His dungeon masters name. His eyes grew wide at what he was reading. You liked Eddie Munson? His mouth dropped open as he closed the notebook with a small thud.

He stuffed into where he found it before racing over back to his room grabbing the radio.

" Mike, Lucas. Come in, Will. Do you copy? I need all heads in"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You yawned as you pull up picking up on your way to pick up Dustin from Hellfire tonight. Steve had some sort of excuse saying he had a date of some sort. Your fingers tapped on the steering wheel as you waited for them to come out. The door opened minutes later, you snorted watching your brother jump over the steps with Mike being goof balls.

You pressed in the middle of your steering wheel scaring them with a honk of your car. They screamed, clutching each other as if something was about to get them. You threw your head back in laughter as you stepped out of the car.

" Get in goofballs" you said through your laughter. Eddie had emerged last as the rest started to leave but you waited to wish him a good night. Dustin nudged your side, " Quit gawking at him."

" At who?" you asked. Dustin didn't utter a word as Eddie walked closer. " You're still here?" He took notice Mike in the car already with a bored expression on his face.

" I'm guessing your taking those two sheeps home?" He asked, bouncing back and forth on his feet. Dustin takes notice on how Eddie kept nervously looking away.

" what gave it away?" you sarcastically say, with a playfully eye roll. He chuckled, shaking his head. " Sarcasm is pretty on you just like you" he flirts.

Your cheeks flush red, " oh my god, will you two just admit to each other that you like each other and go on a date?" Dustin mutters out throwing his hands up. " I mean look at you two, your both nervous to even look at each other and your always smiling wider whenever the both of you are around each other. Look at you, Eddie. Your eyes a partially shining."

Eddie shoots Dustin a glare, " Shut it Henderson."

" I think it's cute" you mutter catching Eddie's attention. He turned his head back with his eyebrow arched up hidden behind his bangs. " You do?"

"Yes, you're very pretty Eddie" his cheeks flushed red as he took a piece of his hair and chewed on it acting shy.

" How about a date, Munson? Tomorrow?" he released his hair from his mouth as he agreed. " I'll pick you up at 7"

" Sounds like a plan"

A honk of the car startled the three of you as Mike waved, " Can we go home now?"

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You twirled around in the mirror pressing your hands down on the skirt you were wearing.

" Aren't you glad I opened my mouth and now you have a date with Eddie" Dustin says as he plops down on your bed with a comic book in his hands.

" How did you even know I had a crush on him?" A beat of sweat appears on Dustin's forehead. Your eyes were in slit thinking he was going to make up some lie to you about this.

" I just knew" he says with a shrug, " you've made it obvious."

" Oh... well thanks" you shrugged.

" You're welcome. You know I do want to see you happy even if you're the most annoying in the world" you smiled down at him as you sat down on the edge of your bed.

" Thank you, that's the most nicest thing you have ever said to me" Dustin playfully shoved his shoulder into you as you shared a laugh with him.

" If he does anything stupid, I will hunt him down" Dustin tries to sound threateningly but fails as it brings laughter to you. The doorbell rang, " I'll get it!" you both shouted as the two of you raced downstairs.

" It's for me, Dusty bun" you shouted.

" It's my friend" he shouted.

Your hand lands on the doorknob, " Ha!" Dustin huffs as you opened the door revealing Eddie holding flowers in his hand as he eyes the two of you.

" Were you two just fighting over who opens the door?"

" I won" you happily said while Dustin stuck his tongue out at you. " Are those for me?" you gasped seeing your favorite flowers in his hands. His cheeks tinted red as he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he offered them to you.

" This is so sweet, let me go put them in a vase. I'll be right back" you sent a small smile Eddie's way making your way into the kitchen where your mom was.

" Who are those from?" She asks, " they are so pretty."

" They are from Eddie" you shyly tell her. She smiles widely seeing your reaction. " Does my little cheerleader like Eddie?" you nodded.

" I'm happy for you, hunny. Is he at the door?" you nodded again. She set her things down as she made her way to the door to say hello to Eddie.

Eddie took notice of your mom making her way over to him. He has been over the house a couple of time to drop Dustin off, to drop things for Dustin, stay for dinner and hang out with Dustin.

" It's good to see you, Eddie" your mom greet him.

" Good to see you too Mrs. Henderson" he smiles at her.

"Take care of my little girl, you hear me?"

" okay, mom we're going" you grabbed onto Eddie's wrist dragging him out the door.

" Have fun you two!" your mom shouted, " Not too much fun!" Dustin shouted as your mom closed the door. Eddie opens the door for you, " m'lady" and bows.

You giggle, " thank you kind sir."

You slide into the passenger seat as he closes the door making his way to the other side where he gets in, shooting you a grin. " Ready, sweetheart?" he nickname throws you off balance making your heart flutter.

" R-ready" Eddie starts the van, putting his hand on your thigh as he drive off.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Since the date, everything was going so well. You've became officially Eddie's girlfriend. But Dustin now came to terms that you were dating Eddie now. He huffs when Eddie comes over and sits besides you on the couch.

" Excuse me" Dustin making his way over in between you and Eddie, " Scoot over" he looks down at Eddie. " This is my usual spot" he points to the couch.

You look at your little brother with amusement watching him put himself in between you and Eddie. You look over to Eddie to see he had the same look on his face.

" Could you pass me those chips?" He asks Eddie, " can't seem to reach" Eddie reaches over to toss the bag of chips into Dustin's lap and puts his arms around the couch but Dustin leans back and feels Eddie's arm.

" Man, not right now. I don't need a cuddle" you snort watching the two as your boyfriend glances down at Dustin with amusement written on his face. He shoots you a look saying are you seeing what I am seeing.

You gotten up to grab yourself something to drink and Eddie follows you wanting to have a moment with you. But, to your disappointment Dustin walks into the kitchen to squeeze in between you and Eddie.

" Sorry just need this cup right there" he grabs the dirty cup off the counter top and puts it in the sink. Eddie grabs a hold of your hands about to bring your hands up to his lips to kiss them when Dustin grabs a hold of your hand and Eddie's.

" It it cold in here? I need some warmth" he holds your hand in his while the other in Eddies. This is the funniest thing you have had seen your brother do. He was having his own fun getting in between you and Eddie.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It's been like that for a whole week where Dustin didn't want Eddie to touch you or be near you. You decided it was time to confront your little brother and ask him what's been going on.

" Hey" you knocked on his door. " It's me, can we talk?" you asked through the door. The door opened to reveal Dustin.

" Is something wrong? Did you get hurt? Did Eddie do something? I swear I'll kill him" Dustin muttered.

" No, no nothing like that" he nodded opening the door wider as you stepped in looking around his room. You have been in his room maybe four times. He didn't like it very much when you were in his room.

" Is everything okay? I mean you've been acting more weirder than usual" you mumbled plopping on his bed. Dustin sighed as he sat down next to you.

" Why won't you let me be near Eddie? Are you afraid he will hurt me?" He shook his head with a small pout.

" No, not that" Dustin looked away feeling upset over the real reason why he kept doing what he was doing. " Please tell me, I'm worried" you moved closer to him and wrap your arms around him.

He looked up at you with glossy eyes, " Hey, what's the matter?' you shifted to face him. " What's got you like this?"

" It's just, I feel like Eddie will take you away from me. You're my big sister and I love giving you shit"

" Language" you warned, poking his nose. He scrunched it.

" I'm also your brother, I just feel very protected over you. You know? If he hurts you, I want to be the first one to land a punch on him. If he says something to hurt you, I want to be the one that bites his head off. You know?"

You nodded, " Listen to me. Eddie isn't taking me away from you, I'm always going to be your big sister. We're always going to have the bond that we have. I know you'll always be there to take care of me whenever I need you. The same thing I would do to you, and if Eddie will hurt me. You'll be the first to know, I promise you."

" I love you" he says throwing his arms around.

" I love you too, dork" he chuckled as he hugged you tighter. There were rare moments like this with your brother but this felt different. Because he never was like this.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was silence at the dinner table as Eddie looked between you and Dustin and then at your mom. She was aware the moment you had between Dustin and how Dustin felt about you being with Eddie.

Eddie was a little scared of the silence then he was startled as Dustin cleared his throat. He stood up from his chair as he turned to Eddie.

" I have some words I need to say" he runs a hand through his curls and puts his cap back on his head. " To you" he points to Eddie. You pause your fork grabbing onto the chicken focusing your attention on your brother.

" Dustin, what are you doing?" he puts a finger up to shush you.

" That's rude" you mumble. Your mom reached over the table and tapped your hand. " It's okay, hunny. He means well" you huffed in your seat crossing your arms over your chair.

" You listen good, Munson. This is my sister" he points to you. Eddie nods, but continues to listen. " If you even think about hurting her in any way possible. I will hunt you down, I will come into your trailer and I will take your guitar and I will throw it into Lover Lake. Do you hear me?" your eyes widen as Eddie eyes did too, but he nodded.

" I don't plan on hurting her, no. way' Eddie says as he looks over to you reaching for your hand. Your hand slide into his, lacing his fingers with yours.

" If you do anything to upset her, I will take Steve's bat and make your van look extra pretty" As Dustin continued to act protective over you, he pointed a finger at Eddie's face.

" Just please don't hurt her" Dustin begs him. " She's been through a lot as it is" you look down at your plate when Dustin says that. Eddie gives your hand a squeeze.

" Also, please don't make be barf whenever this happens" he motions to your hands. " Almost forgot" he walks around the table to unlace your fingers from Eddie. His one hand in yours and the other is in Eddies.

" I got cold" you chuckled, shaking your head.

" yeah got cold, got it" Eddie snorted.

" Dusty bun please sit down, we didn't finish dinner" you stuck your tongue out at Dustin as did Eddie.

In response, Dustin stuck his tongue out at you and Eddie.

This was a start of something good.

#Eddie Munson #imagine Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson one shot #Eddie x reader #Eddie x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x y/n #Eddie Munson x dustin older sister!#Eddie Munson x female reader #jewls writes

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enchantedflameandflower · 5 months

Text

Glimmer 27/? Billy Butcher fic

Tag List: @2dead2function @secretdreamlandmentality

Chapter 1

Previous Chapter (26)

_____

Chapter 27

In the back of his mind, Billy knew that cut would heal in seconds on Addison, but still seeing the blood drip down her fair skin filled him with absolute rage and terror. Fuck every goddamn person on the planet if anything worse happened to her.

This was his fault. He knew it was. He pushed and pushed until he made a person break. If only he had been able to keep her with him…but he was a total cunt.

Billy stood, gripping the back of the chair as he forced himself to watch the video feed on the screen in front of him. He wouldn’t be surprised if the metal frame on the chair splintered right under his hands.

The man leaned closer to Addison again. The slice on her chest sealed closed but blood was dripping down to soak into her tank top. The man smiled at the sight then seemed to say something to Addison that Billy could not hear.

He could tell she was still heavily drugged and she didn’t seem to know what was even happening. She hadn’t even flinched when he cut her and she couldn’t fully open her eyes or hold her head up.

This was emphasized when the fucker tried to get her to look at him and she couldn’t quite do it. He wrapped his fingers around her neck to hold her chin up and drug the tip of his knife down her cheek, then laughed again as more blood ran down her jaw line.

“I want those coordinates now,” Billy roared, picking up the chair and slamming it back down on the ground.

But the next words that came made his blood run cold.

“Are you watching this, Butcher? You watching?” The man flung his arm out, and his knife grazed Addison, a big gash opening on her shoulder.

“Butch-her?” The maniac chuckled. “I just met her! Oh watch this…”

He pushed her tank top aside a little then started to cut into her chest, just over her heart. When he stepped away again it was clear that he had carved a letter ‘B’ and he laughed the loudest yet. Blood dripped down her skin in a macabre pattern, emphasizing the letter.

Billy felt like he’d been tossed in an ocean of ice. This cunt was doing this to hurt him, not her. Just like…

“I have a triangulation,” a voice came from a corner of the CIA room of computers and screens. “I can’t get a lock, it’s bouncing around but I have an area.”

“I want it now!“ Butcher bellowed. If MM hadn’t put his hands on Billy’s shoulders at that exact moment god knows what he would’ve done.

“William -“ Mallory started.

“I don’t give a fuck. We’re going now. I’m going to find this fucking cunt.” It seemed clear it wasn’t a supe and, beyond that, he didn’t give one single fuck. He would rip him apart, limb by limb.

The agent was typing furiously as Billy stalked over to him when suddenly a shrill ring came across the feed and the man answered a cell phone. Everyone in the room froze, watching the screen. When he hung it up he was still grinning and he cut a long stripe down the length of Addison’s arm.

“Well it looks like my fun for tonight is starting to come to an end. A little birdie tells me you’re honing in on me now so I think I’ll skedaddle,” he grinned. “But I’m really a nice guy so I’ll even help you out a bit. And maybe you’ll even learn more about yourself! I thought this might happen so I had a contingency plan ready to go. I have to admit even after everything I’m still curious if you actually love this dirty little supe bint or you’re really just fucking her for kicks so I set up a little experiment for you. I’m gonna give you two addresses. Yes, our little Addi here will be at one,” he cupped his hand around his mouth, “don’t worry I’ll be long gone,” he dropped his hand again, waving his knife around in the other. “But I found a nice girl to keep the other place warm and cozy too. Completely innocent. Young. Hopeful…” he shook his head smiling wide. “You choose.” He listed the two addresses gleefully then held up his hand. “Oh, duh,” he shook he head, “I might’ve, uh, rigged some explosives at both places. Big ones!” He gestured animatedly. “Addi might be able to handle this little knife,” he leaned closer, “but how much shrapnel do you think she can take? Eh,” he shrugged. “We’ll find out.”

And then he was gone, Addison left hanging in the dark.

Billy was already out the door, MM hot on his heels. “Butcher!” He shouted. “Which one we goin’ to first? We only have your car…”

As Billy plowed through the door he almost knocked Frenchie to the cement but Kimiko grabbed his arm.

“Fuckin’ good,” he growled. Maybe they had a chance. “Kimiko, with me, MM go with Frenchie. We’ll take the first place,” he shouted over his shoulder to MM, climbing into his car. Kimiko hopped in the opposite side just as he gunned the engine and they were gone, tires squealing.

*******

Fucking hell… Addison tried to call out but only a whimper escaped. Her head felt like it was stuffed with hot cotton. She gasped, trying to take a deeper breath and shook her head. It had never, ever hurt like this, but she had to get the fuck out of here. She couldn’t remember much but she was pretty sure she heard the word bomb. And Butcher…. Something about Butcher. Oh he was going to be so fucking mad.

Something tickled at her skin and she managed to blink her eyes open. Her shirt was covered in blood…a lot of blood. Holy fuck, what happened? The fucking cunt. She didn’t know who the man was that had been taunting her her but she knew she was going to find him and kill him.

Butcher was right, he’d been right all along, and she’d let her stupid stuck-up, narcissistic, pride get in the way. He was right about her. Maybe he was right about everything.

Tears stung in the back of her eyes but fire flared up from within her. No. She was here, she was alive, and she knew she was stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for, even herself. Addison took another breath and growled, summoning whatever was left of her energy from deep inside. She pulled it up, up through her body and into her arms and she jerked her hands apart. The chains holding her broke, clattering to the floor.

For a moment she thought she was going to collapse but she held steady, forcing herself to breath, to stand, to do this for herself. Somehow she gained her own steadiness and this time tears of utter happiness sprang to her eyes. And then the fire set in again.

She felt like maybe after another minute of building her strength she could find that piece of shit and tear him apart. She was sure he had only just left. When she caught up with him…

Addison took a step and when her footing didn’t falter a sense of strength she’d never felt before welled up inside of her and she felt like she almost had enough fire to run out but she didn’t have to. In the next moment two big arms were wrapping around her.

“Chèrie!”

Addison blinked. MM and Frenchie were standing in front of her, MM holding her up. But only one thought came to mind, and a desperate sob escaped her before she could control it.

“Where’s Billy?!”

_____

Chapter 28

It would mean the whole world to me to get some comments! Anything at all is welcome - your lonely neighborhood fanfic writer <3

#karl urban #billy butcher #fanfic #the boys #karl urban fanfic #the boys fanfic #billy butcher fanfic #karl urban fanfiction #smut #whump #billy butcher smut #billy butcher fanfiction #the boys fanfiction

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 1 year

Text

Hello, Mr. Monster (Three. Shadow)

Summary: Eros and Psyche retelling with soulmate!AU elements. Morpheus x oc/female reader

Master List

Chapter Track: "Dream State (Dark Day)" by Son Lux

18+ (violence, swearing throughout, referenced child murder)

TAGGING: Tag lists break my posts, BUT I reply to comments the day of new chapters, so you'll get a personal update every time you stop to chat. ;)

A/N: Very short chapter this time. Mental health is quietly shitting itself and making writing difficult. Thank you all for your patience.

3: Shadow

The Not Deer smelled blood.

It smelled her blood, sweet with sand, ripe with magic. And this time, unlike all the others before, she had not escaped – and she was alone.

Teeth aching to close on her living flesh, thirsty for the hot blood flecked with its master’s power, it screamed.

She’d fallen too far inside her little moving fortress, and it couldn’t reach her. It could see, though. It could smell. And wasn’t it wonderful? Fresh red bloomed on her face, filling the night with the scent of the hunt.

If it could get through the window or beat down the door, it could have her. Finally. Eat her all up and lick the fluids off the carpet, crunch her bones and chew the soft fat of her pretty brain. Then sleep off a full belly under a pile of last year’s lacy, skeleton leaves, as it did after every good feeding. It caught children who left the path and slipped just beyond their parents’ sight, drunk men daring the dark on a summer’s night, anyone foolish enough to put too much faith in their own skills under the trees when the sun went down. In a hundred years, there had been many.

But she would be the best meal, and the last, because word already spread that the lord was returned, and soon the Not Deer would be missed. Urgency fueled its attack, but its antlers caught on the window frame, and though its legs stretched too long for a deer, its hooves couldn’t strike the valley between the seats.

It rammed the van, furious. Grey foam frothed from its lips, turning the forest floor black with rot where it dripped.

“What are you doing?”

A century was not long enough to forget its master’s voice, and as it heard the whisper of eons at its back, shock froze over delight.

It stalked the dark long enough to recognize prey. It was not a deer, but it froze like one now with fate ringing in its ears. The hunter waited as the Not Deer came to rapid terms with its renewed vulnerability, and the nightmare turned, clicking, to face the Nightmare King.

The Not Deer did not have words. That was not how it had been made. But the king didn’t ask his question in search of an answer.

The Not Deer was meant to hunt in dreams, to threaten and rip at hunters who killed too many, to remind those without caution what they had to fear. But it feasted on living mortals instead. The Corinthian introduced him to the fantasy, made the cut in the nightmare’s mind that festered into fantasy, and when it had the chance, it left the Dreaming to hunt.

It consumed a young dreamer who’d left his bed to catch frogs under the full moon, and the boy had tasted well. So, the Not Deer found new dreamers to eat, glutting itself on muscle and marrow. Until it smelled her. Then it ate others in frustration, because nothing smelled as good as the one with his maker’s name scratched in her heart, glowing gold, drawing him like a new lamb’s bleats or a dying rabbit’s shriek.

The King of Nightmares simply looked at it and understood. He’d already known. He must have. It was in his nature as it was in the Not Deer’s to admire screams.

“You have betrayed your purpose.” The king spoke softly, and the Not Deer bowed, the tattered flesh on its antlers dragging along the dirt. “And you have chosen most dangerous prey.”

Dangerous not because of herself, for all her tricks. Dangerous as the mate of a greater monster, a jealous king with dominion over every night terror and the things night terrors feared.

Eyes darker than any shadow, hard and unforgiving as obsidian, the king stalked nearer. The Not Deer didn’t move. It had witnessed the Endless’s wrath, had seen others of its kind unmade, and knew it was too late to flee.

A low grown and the chime of shifting glass disturbed the dead quiet of the forest, and the Not Deer wondered if the king’s mate would wake. It hoped. She cared for the weaker ones, the creatures of the Dreaming that did not bite into the waking world as the Not Deer had. Even though it hunted her, hurt her, she may show mercy, may ask for it.

But she slept on, disturbed by other nightmares in the Dreaming, and the king’s frown grew deeper. His attention splintered between worlds, and just as her dreaming had led him to the threat in one world, her distress in the other called him home.

Perhaps he would forget. Perhaps the Not Deer may escape to find more dreamers and keep itself as itself.

Even as it began to imagine what it could chase, kill, taste with more days of freedom, the Nightmare King’s eye turned back to it, and he lifted one long arm to spin the Not Deer back to sand.

“I am needed elsewhere. I have not the time to return the tortures you are owed.”

It bucked while it still had legs, roaring and clicking as body, senses, and mind fell grain by grain. If it thought its master would return, it would never have dared. It did not want to disappear. It wanted, it wanted…

“And yet.” The king stooped to take a handful of the witch’s salt from the circle she’d made around her vehicle, and he sifted it between his fingers, thoughtful as the ash stained his fingertips. “Since it was her pain and fear you stole –” he lifted his hand above the half-formed Not Deer and let it rain down “– let her repay it.”

The black salt caught inside the nightmare and burned like it never had before. It wasn’t discomfort. It wasn’t an unpleasant, stinging shock. It was agony without end, and the Not Deer abandoned any idea of survival or escape in an instant.

It needed to be unmade. To stop. To forget.

Its lord did not lift his hand, and the legless, heaving beast of horror whined in desperation.

“Perhaps this taste of her power will satisfy you.”

If it had words, it would beg.

The Nightmare King’s attention had already shifted back to the Dreaming, however, and he paused only long enough for his shadow to swallow the wailing thing before moving on to where his mate’s dreaming mind called for help.

Then all the Not Deer knew was the darkness and its pain within it. Her scent twisted through the sand, and soon it summoned no hunger, no greed, only unbridled terror it could not escape. Not even when it tore itself apart.

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

In the Dreaming, the Nightmare King pulled her from the nightmares and held her in his hands for the first time, negotiating an opportunity to soothe her, to feel the places in their souls where they met, so she might understand…

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

She woke with something damp between her legs and glass studding her palm.

Spears of light poked through the forest canopy, glinting sharp through her eyes, into the sensitive spaces behind them, burning her retinas from the inside out. Rainbows danced in the broken window, reflecting in the shattered diamonds over the floor. The driver’s seat. Her clothes. She decided to wait before trying to move, get her senses together, give her head time to steady before she did anything stupid. Like grating herself like Parmesan cheese on the remains of her window.

She closed her eyes for a minute. Breathed.

Something was off.

Her mouth was dry as cotton, and her tongue did nothing to help her equally dry lips as she pulled it over the broken, peeling skin.

Damn.

She felt…

Confused.

Hurt from her encounter with the Not Deer, but also well rested. Lighter almost. Like she suddenly had more attention, more energy, even though she had glass in her hair and a situation she strongly suspected may lead to a UTI if not immediately addressed. Which of course led to the question of what the hell she and the monster had really done in her sleep, if it was just the wettest dream of her life or if she ought to be running for Plan B. She didn’t think he’d go that far without asking, not after he so carefully sought permission. And wasn’t that a hell of a thing?

Sought permission. Honored it. Soothed her and held in a way her waking mind struggled to grasp. The concepts melted in her thoughts like ice as she woke, dripping away in cool streams of sensation and memory.

He’d been grand, and big, and frightening, but he didn’t use his power to crush her, as she’d expected.

After so many years anticipating the worst, she wasn’t sure what to do with this reality. Where things hadn’t gone tits up. With a creature beyond a god who assumed he had boundaries before she even drew them. Where the worst hadn’t happened.

Her monster had made a riddle of himself for her to solve. She’d need time to come to terms with that. With him. After a lifetime of the darkest expectations… well.

Getting up, though. That came first.

She shifted, wary of the bad, bad glitter threatening an unplanned trip to an urgent care as she picked the best spots to plant her elbows.

Rolling onto her knees, she tried to crawl forward, but something snagged her foot, and she finally noticed the pull of a grip around her ankle. Her heart didn’t skip a beat. Her breathing didn’t stutter. None of the normal, horrified reactions burst from trembling lips and teary eyes.

She knew that hand.

Looking towards the passenger seat, she saw the desiccated arm vanishing into the shadows under the pilot chair. Dead skin flaked away from crusty patches of old blood, and misty black shadows curled within, ready to turn into nightmare claws to terrorize small children.

The fingers squeezed, questioning.

“I’m alright, Jeff.” She reached down to pat him, glad to find something as expected and faithful as the needy nightmare worrying after her wellbeing. “It’s okay. Not Deer still lurking outside?”

Two quick squeezes – No.

“Good.”

The bastard must’ve given up when Jeff arrived. Never did like an audience, and Jeff could be a real pain in the ass if he wanted to be. Pretty literally.

As far as she knew, Jeff was only the arm. Maybe he had a few more inky swaths of darkness he kept tucked under low furniture, but he never manifested anything past a bicep. He didn’t speak with words, only by touch, and they’d learned to communicate by squeeze ages ago.

Once upon a time, he’d been the first nightmare to find her, and on the last night she had a family, he’d clung to her leg like a shackle – warning her, begging her not to follow her curious ears to the raised voices outside her door. Ever since, even though he had terrible timing, she never doubted his intentions.

The touches in her dream with Morpheus told her a lot of other things she wasn’t fully prepared to analyze.

She hadn’t had a fucking cup of coffee yet. She couldn’t be expected to contemplate the single greatest threat to her continued freedom before caffeination. Simply unreasonable. Inhumane.

So, she shoved it out of her mind – again – and climbed out of the mess. Her first aid kit was in the back, under the narrow bunk where she usually slept. She popped the plastic case open with her back to the sliding door, the Not Deer’s dent poking into her peripheral vision as a grim reminder of the previous night.

Another nearly.

She had a strange relationship with death. Dozens of near misses over the years made the sickening adrenaline rush and following crash routine. Some people could schedule their periods in their planners. Some days it felt like mortal peril penciled itself into hers. She was afraid, but too often, and she’d lost the technique of it.

As she plucked a few stubborn bits of glass from her hands, cleaned the tiny holes they left behind, and bandaged everything up, Jeff made himself useful. He swept up the fragments he could reach in long sweeps, pulling it all into the fathomless darkness of his home under the pilot seat. When he’d cleared that side of the van, he withdrew and manifested on the driver’s side. He reached up to pluck shards from the cushions, and his fingers spidered along the carpet, seeking little dangers he could remove from her world. In the time she took cleaning herself up and shaking the glass out of her hair outside, the nightmare cleared the interior of debris.

��Thank you, Jeff,” she said as she hauled herself into the driver’s seat.

She caught her own eye in the rearview mirror. She caught her first look at the bloody goose egg over her left brow, too. Could be worse, though the swelling might get some attention she didn’t want. Rusty red flakes peeled away from the trails leading into her hair, and she tentatively poked the edge of the swelling. Like running her tongue over a canker sore – she just couldn’t help herself, even though she knew how it would end.

Yup.

It hurt.

She groaned, dropping back against the headrest. Fan-fucking-tastic. The scratch needed cleaning and antiseptic, which meant a stop at the nearest convenience store with a bathroom. Nothing like scaring some gas station clerks first thing in the morning.

At least gas stations had coffee.

Fresh air breathed through the broken window, washing the smell of fear and blood out of the van. She took in as much as she could.

She needed to go, but she wasn’t sure where, and going never got her very far without a destination. Her pockets had bottoms, and she’d hit the seams fast if she didn’t budget gas money.

Where should she head? What did she need?

Out of sight, Jeff softly grasped her left ankle. He hadn’t been so clingy in ages, and she wondered what the little nightmare knew that she didn’t. It wasn’t like he was a great conversationalist. Their talks took creative shortcuts – yes/no taps, Morse code, even a Ouija board once or twice – but they still chewed up time she wasn’t sure she had, and even when well-equipped, Jeff wasn’t chatty. He couldn’t help her work through this chaos.

Oh.

And there was her answer.

Help.

People.

She needed people. Folks to talk with, to lend her an ear and a shoulder to cry on. Someone to distract her, friends who knew her and would keep her safe from rogue nightmares like the Not Deer – maybe even help her pick apart her feelings over the star-eyed Endless and his… attention.

People. Friends. Plural.

Checking the date on her phone, she did some quick math and determined where her favorite group of miscreants might be found. Hadn’t they sent her a text? A few weeks ago? She’d been so consumed with the pull across the ocean to the Burgess estate she barely read it. No time or attraction. Now, though – different story.

Destination in mind, she put on her sunglasses to protect her eyes from the inevitable wind through the open window and turned the key. The van grumbled to life. Bouncing over the rough little road she’d called home for a few nights, she smiled to herself. Happy in the moment, alive with a little purpose and a goal to chase, on her way to friendly faces.

Only after speeding an hour down the highway did she realize what felt so off – the pain in her chest had eased.

Next chapter: Link

#Morpheus x reader #morpheus x oc #dream of the endless x reader #sandman x reader #hello mr. monster #morpheus x original character

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blainesebastian · 2 years

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mutually assured satisfaction (pt6)

words: 3,603 ship: austin butler x reader summary: reader’s agent approaches her with a PR stunt to date austin butler and promote both their careers. a mapped out plan, an electric relationship–what could possibly go wrong? notes: masterlist is on my sidebar :) thanks for any comments, reblogs, likes and asks! always appreciated warnings: not exactly SFW tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @kittenlittle24, @slowsweetlove, @namoreno, @strokesofstokes, @callthedarknessdown, @kibumslatina, @al-co-hol-youlater, @frogoerson, @dancer4j

You don’t hear anything back from Austin, which…you suppose shouldn’t surprise you with how you left things. You’re a fucking mess and if you were him, you’d cut your losses too. After all, just as you said, Austin isn’t your boyfriend—this relationship isn’t real. He has no obligation to you or be here for what you’re going through. Regardless of the words he said before he left your apartment, he can change his mind, you wouldn’t even blame him.

Stepping into your kitchen in your black dress for the funeral, you putter around to help your parents get ready for the wake, trying to count down the time on the clock of this terrible day. Your mother, Grace, reaches for your arm and squeezes to get your attention. Handing over a cup of hot mint tea, she gives you a small smile, fixing a curl near your cheek.

“Why don’t you go sit for a while—we’re almost done here, then we’ll head out.”

You swallow and lean back against the counter to put honey into your tea, “It’s better if I keep moving.”

She nods in understanding, pushing her hair over her shoulder, “How’s that boy you were seeing? Austin? He seemed really nice when we met him over Facetime the few times we called.”

This has to be the very last thing you want to talk about, somehow the mention of Austin making everything feel that much sharper, painful. You of course didn’t tell your parents about the PR relationship because they’d worry or worse, scold you, but it was impossible not to tell them about your so-called boyfriend when they could read or see things online, when they called and Austin was so often there.

“He uh…” You’re unsure of what to say for a few moments, not wanting to get into everything here, now, and yet at the same time just wanting to rip the band-aid off. Austin isn’t here because nothing between you was honest, it was just heightened emotions and physical attraction given the close proximity. That’s it.

“You didn’t break up, did you?”

And God, you can’t do it—you can’t tell her the truth about what’s really going on or how you felt so consumed with grief and loss that you pushed him away and now you don’t know what to do. How you’re confused and conflicted and you’re supposed to go back to reality in two days and deal with articles and rumors and real feelings that somehow complicate and fuck up everything.

You open your mouth to say something when the doorbell rings and you nearly sigh in relief because, “I’ll get it.” Your father is upstairs getting ready anyways and you need to leave this conversation immediately.

Shaking your head, you move to open the front door without even looking in the peep hole—and nearly melt right into the floor when you see its Austin. You blink once, twice, a breath catching in your throat because you don’t quite believe what you’re looking at. He’s standing there in a pair of black slacks and pullover sweater to go with it, the black booties you’ve seen him wear hundreds of times and a blazer. He’s got one duffle bag in his hands and his eyes are the warmest thing about him, that welcoming blue.

You just kinda stand there, unsure of how to even talk until the words finally burst forth, “What are you—how did—”

Austin takes a step forward, “Christina.”

Her agent, right, of course. Of course Austin would reach out to her about where you are, not wanting to bother you even though you sent out a series of desperate texts hoping he would reply. You didn’t expect this though, for him to come all the way here, out of his way. He continues to surprise you in the best ways.

There’s this whimpering noise that leaves your mouth that you’ll have to deny even making later as all the pent-up tears that have been on back-burner for today begin filling your eyes. Austin doesn’t waste any time, he moves to wrap you into his arms, drawing you close and squeezing tight. A relieved sigh empties from your mouth, mingled with a soft cry, your hands clinging to his blazer as you bury your face into his chest. The scent of his cologne mixed with something that you’ve come to recognize as inherently Austin.

Once you pull back, you let Austin step inside, running your hands over your cheeks. You didn’t even bother to put on makeup today because you already knew it was going to be like this all day, constantly wiping tears from your face.

“I’m sorry about what I said,” You sniffle, “At my apartment?”

Austin shakes his head, his hand resting on your shoulder, “Don’t even worry about it, I mean it.” He cups your cheek, running his thumb along the skin before pulling back.

Your mother comes around the corner, pausing as she sees both you and Austin. She instantly smiles, moving to greet Austin with half a hug that he quickly accepts. He has to lean down to embrace her, dropping his bag near the door,

“You must be Austin,” Grace squeezes before she pulls back. “I can’t tell you how nice it is to meet you in person—Y/N didn’t tell me you were coming.”

“Just needed to finish things up with work,” Austin lies gently, his eyes slipping over to yours, “But I was always gonna be here. It’s really nice to meet you.”

Grace hums, picking up Austin’s bag to take upstairs. “Well we’re very glad you’re here. I know it means a lot to Y/N.”

You’re so overstimulated by the fact that Austin is standing here in your childhood home, flew here to be with you for your grandmother’s funeral, that you can’t even tell your mom that you can take his bag up to your bedroom. Curling your hair around your ear, you let her pass you to walk upstairs, leaving you and Austin in the soft silence of the foyer.

“I hope it’s okay I just showed up,” Austin says after a few moments, running a hand through his hair. You’re quickly coming to realize it’s a nervous habit of his.

You shake your head, taking a step closer to him. Reaching out a hand to touch his forearm, you squeeze a little. What your mom said was right, you are grateful he’s here.

“No, I meant what I said—I needed you.” And that’s so fucking hard for you to admit outloud, so difficult to let someone in, to feel and appear weak, that you need to depend on someone other than yourself. “I need you.”

Austin cups your cheek, curling your hair back behind your ear, “I’m here—m’not going anywhere.”

And it’s with that guarantee that you allow yourself to be vulnerable.

The day is incredibly long, but you figure that’s how it’s supposed to be. The funeral itself goes quickly, which you’re thankful for. Some nice words shared over a ceremony at the cemetery, standing in grass and trying not to let yourself dissolve into crying as the casket is lowered. You’re just thankful that there’s no paps showing up…you were kinda concerned there might be. Some people are always after that one story, that one image that no one else can get. But there’s security and precautions and luckily it seems like no one knows Austin is here either. You’re able to use him as an anchor the whole time, turning into him and closing your eyes as he rests his chin on your head, kisses pressed along your hairline every so often.

The wake at the house is manageable and maybe it’s because you’re busy helping your parents play host that it’s not as painful as you thought to mingle with friends and family of your grandmother and talk about her. You worry at one point that it might be uncomfortable for Austin but he blends in as if he’s always somehow been here, leans right into conversations, helps your parents with odds and ends things that’s mostly getting refills or taking out the trash, and most importantly checks on you without being overbearing. You realize that you don’t think you would have been able to go through today without him.

Letting out a short breath, you smooth your hands over your dress and make your way to the living room to find Austin to take a breather outside. Your teenage cousin is talking to him with hearteyes, definitely a crush, and a soft laugh leaves your lips as you approach,

“Rachel, you mind if I steal Austin for a bit?”

She smiles and nods, her cheeks blushing as Austin looks down at her, “I’ll be back, we can talk about that book you’re reading.” She brightens as if he’s promised her the moon.

Taking Austin’s hand, you walk with him through the house until you exit out of the kitchen back door into a small yard. There’s a swing set there that still works, a small quiet spot that you’ve always enjoyed—tonight’s no different. You grab one of the swings and perch yourself on it, smiling up at Austin.

“Think I’m too tall for this.” He jokes, having to duck his head to sit on the other swing. The metal creaks but easily holds both of them, Austin’s legs almost comically long as he stretches them out so it’s more comfortable.

You hum lightly, gently pushing yourself back and forth, looking up at your childhood home. It’s quiet between you two but not unpleasant, night sounds surrounding you along with the creaking metal, crickets and trees rustling. A small shiver runs down your spine but you enjoy weather like this, slightly crisp at night. You pull the sleeves of your dress down over your hands.

“Thank you again for being here,” You say, looking over at him, “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for,” He offers you a small smile, “But you’re welcome.”

There’s so much you want to say to him, you’re not sure where to begin. In a few weeks, the PR stunt will be over, you’re supposed to be breaking up. Both of your careers have become bustling because of the relationship—phone calls for interviews, more Instagram and social media followers and interactions, more buzz created about the films you’re acting in. The stars aligned; the plan worked—so why does it feel like you’re somehow losing in the end?

Pushing yourself on the swing a moment, you let a long breath that flutters your lips, “We’re uh…supposed to break up soon.”

Austin purses his lips, the heels of his feet rolling in the grass and shifting himself back and forth. There’s a noncommittal noise that leaves his mouth before, “Right—two weeks?”

Yeah, that sounds right. You’ve kinda lost all sense of time lately, your body aches from lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion. And the endgame of this whole stunt? You’ve just pushed it out of your mind, other things filling your head because you have no idea how to feel about it. It’s like this impending train but neither of them is moving off the tracks.

“What do you wanna do?” You ask, the question hanging in the air.

Despite having an expiration date, they haven’t really formulated how it’s going to happen. Who breaks up with who, is it public or private, how do they get the news to spread and still maintain a decent amount of satisfactional drama? It’s very much a powder keg, capable of going haywire with just the wrong amount of pressure.

“I think…” Austin trails off for a moment, considering what he’s about to say, “I think I wanna make sure you’re alright first, get back home,” He shrugs, “Everythin’ else we can figure out.”

It’s not exactly a non-answer but it’s one you weren’t expecting either. But when he turns to look at you, those soft blue eyes settling on your face, you find yourself nodding. You’re not sure what you even wanted him to say—the set of different responses settle in your belly like lead, none of them satisfactory.

You pick yourself up from the swing and move to stand near him, looking down at his face. He stops moving, his one arm sliding around your waist as you sort of step between his legs. There’s encouragement to sit on his one leg and you do, the swing creaking but holding both of your weight. He smiles up at you, just a soft quirk of his lips, and you kinda like it like this—being a bit taller than him. That height difference he so often has the advantage of.

You lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, nose brushing along the curls of his dirty blonde hair. Austin lets out a short breath that tickles your neck, a small squirming sensation circling in your belly at that, your arm squeezing him around his shoulders. If you could pause time, sit out here with him for the rest of the night, you would.

But you know you can’t—you have to head back inside at some point and you have to fly back home to where reality lives. You just hope that Austin’s right, everything else they can figure out. Together.

The week you both get back, you throw yourself into your work, which actually turns out to help a lot. By Friday you’re exhausted, but in a good way, you end up feeling more like yourself. Grieving isn’t linear, there are terrible days for you and in balance there’s some really great ones too. You’re just trying to take things one day at a time, that’s the best way you think you can handle things.

Austin gets invited to a friend’s house party, because of course celebrities have those from time to time, and asks you if you’d like to come with. It’s not on your list of dates leading up to the breakup and he kinda gives this ‘no pressure’ vibe just in case you’re not feeling it. But you think it might be good for you? A party, some drinking, dancing, having a good time? Never hurts to let loose every now and then.

So Austin picks you up and drives, wearing a pair of black jeans, a button denim shirt and those same boots he loves. You’re wearing a little black dress with puffy sleeves, a pair of white booties, your earrings matching. There’s no pressure tonight to be anyone other than themselves and have a good time.

And that’s exactly what you plan on doing.

You take a few selfies with Austin and put them on your Instastory, the likes and comments almost immediate. People enjoy looking at him and you can’t exactly blame them either. His social media footprint isn’t very big but he takes one of the photos and reposts it on his story too—you try not to think about whether he’s doing that for the PR or because he wants to.

Shaking thoughts out of your head, you walk into the beautiful two-story house with him, his arm around your waist as he greets old friends and shakes hands with anyone new that he meets. Your eyes take in the tall ceiling, the pristine white paint, the glass windows overlooking rolling hills and sparkling lights of the city, and a variety of faces from Hollywood—some that you recognize, some that you don’t.

There’s really no rhyme or reason to tonight’s party other than just enjoying it and living in a bit of excess. You know it’s a bit shameful but you can’t help but wanting to throw everything to the wayside tonight, to enjoy your time with Austin, to drink a bit too much and dance, play games.

Having been here for an hour thus far, you certainly have done all the above, planting yourself on Austin’s lap on the couch as he talks to the friend throwing the party. He’s got a beer in his hand while you sip on a refill of some sort of mixed drink that’s too strong but it’s adding to the rose-colored tint you’re beginning to see the room in. Pleasantly tipsy, leaning your back against Austin’s front.

He smells so damn good, a kiss of sweat to his skin, heightening his natural scent and the sandalwood cologne he wears. His arm absently slips around your waist, keeping you in place as his friend asks him about upcoming projects and then dives into one he’s working on. You shift your hips back to get into a more comfortable position, chewing on the straw of your drink and you think it’s your imagination when Austin squeezes your hip.

But then you move again because your leg is falling asleep and Austin definitely tenses underneath you. You’re sitting close enough that you can hear him let out a short breath, even above the thrum of the music, his fingers digging into your side. Your eyes dart down to look at him, his jaw working as he attempts to pay attention and continue the conversation with his friend but…his eyes are a shade darker than usual.

He glances up at you, very quickly, before looking back at his friend and taking a sip of his beer. It’s within that moment that you become very aware of Austin’s body along your own, the heat of his skin, the way his chest feels against your back, the way his waist presses into your legs. And there, just there, you begin to feel heat pulse between your thighs, almost thick like honey. It traps air in your lungs, pulse quickening in your neck and you clear your throat,

“I uh, bathroom,” You say quickly, putting your drink down and crawling off of Austin’s lap to make a beeline towards your destination.

Your heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you close the door, leaning against the sink. You turn the water on and wet your hands, running them along your heated skin—the back of your neck, your cheeks, a brush over your forehead. You have never tried to deny that you’re physically attracted to Austin, of course you are, how could you not be? But then again there’s never quite been a situation like that either—when you could so clearly feel him and the reaction he was having because of you.

Shaking your head, you feel slightly dizzy. Just the alcohol, just the overwhelming proximity of your bodies and the mood of the night, nothing more. There’s a knock on the door,

“One minute!” You call out, slightly annoyed someone is already waiting in line to get in. Doesn’t this place have, like, three other bathrooms this person could go find? You’re not ready to leave yet, not composed to your liking at all.

The knocking doesn’t go away, so you let out a huff and move to yank open the door—and Austin is standing there. He doesn’t say a word, instead walking forward to press you back into the bathroom, the door closing behind him. There’s a brief moment of hesitancy, some shared breathing, Austin drawing his teeth over his lower lip—

And he reaches for you to kiss.

A soft moan leaves your throat almost automatically and the sound alone seems to encourage Austin’s movements, he deepens the kiss, his arms going around you. Your hands slip up and underneath his shirt to feel the heat of his skin and he continues to back you up until you bump into the sink. It’s built into a counter and you’ve never been happier about that as he lifts you up and sets you on the edge, slipping between your legs, your dress hiking a bit up your thighs. The kissing is becoming quick, almost messy, tongues slipping together as you feel him roll his hips against your leg.

You shudder at the sensation, wrapping your legs around him, drawing him in as close as you possibly can. There’s a fire smoldering inside of you, almost too much to bear, hands moving to undo belts and pants and sliding the fabric of your dress up and over your hips. Your head tips back, exposing your neck when Austin slides his hand down and into your underwear, fingers prodding, working you open. His lips find your neck, kissing along your pulse point, and you squeeze him when he maneuvers his hips and slides into you. There’s a moment of no movement, your head practically bumping the mirror and a short laugh leaves your lips.

“Ow,” You crinkle your nose, rubbing the crown of your head.

“You alright?” Austin lets out a breath of a laugh, his one hand rubbing along your shoulders.

You nod, looking down at him, hand moving to brush your thumb along his lower lip, “Don’t stop.” You whisper before kissing him.

And he doesn’t. The movement of your hips are fluid, quick, passionate, it doesn’t take either of you very long to reach your climaxes. When you do, Austin draws you closer and peppers a few kisses along your cheek, jawline, burying his face in your neck. Humming, you press your lips and nose into his shoulder, breathing him in, allowing your eyes to close. Neither of you move for a long moment.

This is not what you meant when you intended on letting loose to have a good time.

Only two more parts left! Also working on some requests :) thanks so much for reading! Appreciate all of you.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things #mas series #mas

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