#You have my permission to snap him like a twig | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

halcyone-of-the-sea · 3 months

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CAT-EYES

PAIRING: Runaway Groom!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Thief!Reader

SYNOPSIS: What begins as a normal day of stalking the back road for wealthy carriages, turns into a walking nightmare spanning three days. Who is this finely-dressed man stumbling about your woods?

WORDCOUNT: 13.3k

WARNINGS: Blood, injury, light gore, pining, intense banter, sarcasm, insults, kind of enemies-to-lovers but eh, angst, protective!John, light hurt/comfort, bittersweet?, etc.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You were sitting in the branches again.

Lightly swinging your legs from over the sides, the rough bark at your spine shifted as you let out a tiny sigh into the chilled air. In your ears, you’re hearing the bugs fly past, and the large hart about fifteen feet away pushing through the undergrowth—built body just barely there as the puff of his hot breath wafts upwards.

Twirling the arrow between your fingers, your bow sitting carefully in your lap, you close your eyes and listen.

The years had come and gone and yet you remained here in this small corner of nowhere—resting in this old gnarled oak tree with its branches and leaves giving protection from the elements when nothing else would. Sure, you had a small home to call your own in these very woods, but your windows didn’t give a view of the back road to the East. Barely anyone took it now, and you think you’re partially to blame for it, but, well, perhaps those pesky nobles shouldn’t have been too prone to flashing their coin.

So it was their fault, and on your failing honor, the money always went to a good cause anyway. Who wouldn’t want a poor woman to eat?

But, no. There are rules that every thief follows, no matter how unsavory. You never killed anyone; you never harmed them, either. Just the money—a brandished dagger or an arrow to the side of a carriage wouldn’t hurt anything besides pride, and many of those you stole from had enough to last them multiple lifetimes.

“Greedy fellows,” you sigh under your breath before you stretch like a cat, arching your spine and spreading your arms high above your head. The few rays of sun you get through the leaves dance across your face, but still, the thick layer of cold air is present all around.

Shuffling a bit in your shoulder-wrapping, you yawn and fall back once more—licking your lips and thinking of warm stew and fresh bread from the inn down in the town. Shivering, your fingers move to play with your bow, tapping along the bend of wood as the trees are brushed by a soft breeze. The hart below huffs louder still—hooves crushing across the fallen twigs, and you think it’s a bit strange the thing is still here despite your scent clearly in the air, but your eyes are more focused on the road than an animal.

Until it speaks.

“Hells fuckin’ bells, this damn get-up is going to be the death of me,” the words are barked out quickly—laced with heated anger as a branch is slapped by heavy hands.

Startling, your head snaps below you rapidly; heart jerking inside of your chest so suddenly that you nearly send yourself off the side of your perch. Scrambling for your bow to make sure it doesn’t clatter to the dirt of the Earth, you force down a loud gasp at what you see.

“Bastard things,” meets your ears as you stare open-eyed at a bulky man as he stumbles out into the small clearing below your tree, looking behind him as he pants. Your jaw goes slack at the extravagant apparel clothing this sudden stranger—a red, black, and blue tartan thrown over his shoulder, pinned with the silver image of a great boar head, and the kilt has more than one bramble stuck into it as it swishes with his turn.

He has a sporran as well, made of dark furs with three tassels hanging, the metal also silver, as your experienced eyes can tell as they narrow in confusion.

“What in the hell…” You breathe quietly, leaning just a bit more over the edge of your branch slowly.

There were black belts and buckles, rich shoes of leather, and your gaze slowly drags to the hanging body of a sword strapped to his waist, swinging as the man rests his feet and looks down at himself with a deep annoyance. There wasn’t an inch of him not coated in dirt, mud, or sweat—all that deer-ish panting and huffing escaping his mouth in condensed clouds.

“Fuckin’,” he stops himself from continuing the curse, holding up his hands as he glares down at his form. “Jesus, this’ll never come out at this rate.”

This comment made your lips twitch, eyebrow-raising as your sharp vision filtered from one detail to the next—learning the brown shade of his cut hair and the strange way it’s kept long down the center, and short along the sides. He had a strong build to him, and the boar broach, while it may be something to distinguish a family line as he seemed wealthy, perfectly reflected the individual.

He was a being of muscle and stubborn willpower. All tusk and bristled fur.

Your eyes linger a bit longer on the silver of that broach—the thing that glints in the light alluringly. You hum under your breath, tilting your head softly. Yet, your impression was made, and your wits are about you as sharply as they always had been.

This was a formal outfit, for a formal occasion. So, why was this important man trampling through the woods where you were set to ambush the next unassuming noble on the road? Why was he looking over his shoulder so tense-like? Your curiosity had piqued the second you’d figured out the rabid crunching from the bushes wasn’t a deer but instead, a wealthy-looking man who wasn’t, you admitted, too hard on the eyes.

Blinking, you smile, fingers twitching over your bow as the stranger brushes his vest rapidly, growling down at the large mud stains.

“Lost, then?” Your voice makes him startle, skull whipping forward to the tree trunk until you whistle and lean forward; moving your bow to push away the cover of leaves. “Up here, now,” blue eyes immediately lock with yours and you hum, chuckling, at the moment of shock that shines through. “Poor bastard, look at you and all that mud. You’ve been through hell, mate, eh? By the state of you, I’d say you fought a bear and found yourself at the end of an unfortunate outcome.”

Your words are smooth—nearly sly just as they always are. There’s intent leaking out of every one of them until all that remains is a layered purpose, like that of a butcher peeling away flesh from a hide. You have to process that skin: lay it to a rack to let it dry before it can be stretched to the desired firmness, and, finally, softened.

You took as much pleasure in the mental hunt as you did the payoff. Where there’s money to be earned, there’s also knowledge—you were a thief of all.

The man watches you with wide eyes, those blues glinting as they blink, glancing around rapidly to check for any others like you that may be hiding. He steps back, a hand brushing his sword, and you think to yourself slowly, he’s smart.

You breathe down chilled air. Before he responds he checks to make sure it’s not an ambush—the man understands he’s out of his element here. He’s on edge.

The both of you stare at one another, before your face shifts, brow-raising up on your forehead.

“What, did I startle you?” Legs looping to hang off the same side, your body feels lighter than a feather as you send yourself over the edge, knees taking the brunt of the force as your head catches up to your stomach—grunting as you hold your bow heavily in one hand. The jostle moves the limbs of your arrows, kept in a quiver at the small of your back.

Standing fully, you huff and set an easy smile to your lips, all teeth.

“My apologies, Lord.” Your free hand finds your heart, and you bend your spine forward. “I couldn’t help but see you down here below my tree.”

“Best to stay where you are,” the stranger grunts, only giving you enough of a glance to deem you unthreatening, apparently. Your form straightened. He watches you warily on the next go-around, attention always drifting to every snap of a twig off into the trees or the breeze shifting the leaves. “No need to apologize,” is the hurried reply, caught on a rough accent and a hissed gravel huff. “I’ll be on my way once I get my bearings. I don’t have time for conversation—and you should find your way home before long.” Eyes dart. “It isn’t good to be out today...or tonight, I’d say.”

If possible, your intrigue gains strength like a saint in Heaven.

The man’s square face raves in a clench of his jaw, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Are you sure you’re not lost, Lord?” You continue, undeterred, and shift your bow to sling it over your shoulder. “I live in these woods, I’d have no trouble directing you to the road. It isn’t far.”

“It’s John,” he grunts, glancing over, out of sorts. He was tired—his limbs were shaking with exertion even if he didn’t realize it yet. You think that perhaps if he were more focused, he’d ask why a woman had just landed in front of him from the branch of an Oak; dressed in trousers and a tunic, with just a woolen wrap to keep out the chill. Dirt over her face and a cunning edge to her words. Or, maybe he did know, you wondered, and simply didn’t care at the moment.

“Just call me Johnny. And,” he shakes his head firmly. “No. Go home to your husband, Bonnie, this doesn’t involve you.” He blinks, staring with a line across his forehead, stubble pulling along his cheeks. “I know this place—there’s a road just to the…” he turns his head to the direction of your trail, blinking at the coverage of thick foliage. “Fuck,” the dark-haired stranger growls, blues sparking up in a feral display of desperate weight.

You can only see the winding bends if you have a vantage point—that was why you chose your tree in the first place. Your smile grows.

“It’s that way, Lord,” you breathe, pointing in the opposite direction of the road, back to the small path of brambles and bushes that leads closer to your home instead. “We pass my property on the way, I can offer you some drink for your troubles.” A chuckle wafts the air. “You look like you need it.”

There’s a large moment of hesitation, in which you begin to wonder if this prize might be too big to catch, but, then, as there’s a flash of something over John’s face, he grits his teeth and sighs.

“Aye, fine,” he nods, looking to the side as he lowers his tense shoulders and clears his throat. You’re offered a sincere expression that borders on strained guilt. “Thank you, Dearie. I…” John pauses, frowning. “I hope I didn’t scare you too much when I burst through the trees like that—I’m in a bit of a rush if you can’t tell. I need to make for the shore.”

“My,” you huff, shifting your body and motioning him to follow—he does, setting his feet carefully ahead of him with experienced movements; keeping a respectable distance away. Johnny wasn’t new to the woods, then. He knew where to place his feet, at the very least. “The shore? That sounds exciting.” You conclude, hiding your creased brows as you stare forward. “Making for the South? I’ve heard handfuls are leaving for the weather.”

Looking over your shoulder, you make sure he keeps on your trail as you push through the bushes. “More agreeable, they say. Less rain.”

John chuckles, though he’s still visibly aware of everything around him. He spares you a look, a small smirk taking over his slightly chapped lips. “Keep talkin’ like that, and I just might.”

You’re surprised by the genuine laugh that fights in the back of your throat. Humming under your breath, you shrug it off as simply as a dog does a fly. It was painfully obvious neither of you trusted the other.

John’s eyes were stuck on the back of your head, and yours were eager to slide back to his form on the off-chance you had to use the dagger strapped to the meat of your thigh, carefully hidden under your trousers and accessible via a cut in your pocket. He was all muscle, and already you know that any attack coming to you would be unwise to try and retaliate—slash and retreat was a much better escape plan.

You could outrun him.

“So,” your words bleed curiosity, eyes imploring as you glance over your shoulder. “Why are you out in the woods, Johnny? In such a nice outfit as well. Is there something going on around here?”

The dark-haired man tilts his head your way, sighing long. “A wedding, actually. Horrible thing, if I have to comment on it.”

Your lips twitch.

“Oh, aye. I’d heard about it in town not two days ago—something about a marriage of advantage? Who was the unlucky pair, then?”

John clenched his jaw, hand coming up to push at the smear of dried blood on his cheek, which you’d just noticed wasn’t dirt and instead the result of a branch slap. Pale cheeks were wind-bitten. Lungs heavy. You narrow your gaze before stopping the surge of questions in your mouth.

“Some poor bastard, that’s who,” he responds slowly, mostly under his breath, before blinking. “How much further is the road, Dearie? No offense,” he grunts, staring seriously at you “but I'd rather not be here for much longer.”

The boar broach winks at you.

“Not far,” you smile coyly. “Forgive me, Lord John—”

“Just Johnny—”

“—But I do hope you’re not a fugitive.”

Blue eyes widen, sure feet faltering.

“.... Negative, Bonnie, no, I’m not running from the law. You don’t have to worry about any of that with me,” he breathes, and not once does he look away from you. You have to commend the man, he seemed an honest fellow, and those, you knew, were very rare indeed in your time. “I just need to get out of these woods. You’ll never hear from me again after I’m gone.” He takes a breath, looking past you. “You have my word.”

“Is it worth believing?” You push, smirking. “There’s few dressed like you that I can say it is.”

John licks his lips as you both pass a fallen tree, standing more side by side than previously now that the density of bushes had dispersed. He huffs, sending you a side-eye before he seems to study your face, brows pulling jokingly.

“I don’t think my answer would make much of a difference, would it?”

You pause, enjoying this man’s company more by the second. “No, it wouldn’t.” The both of you stare, before you grin and pull your sharp gaze away, chuckling. “Follow me,” you motion a hand. “Before you fall into a mud pit and completely ruin what little is left of your outfit that’s sellable—” You fumble, faking a cough as you clear your throat and finish off with tension now in your spine, “Salvageable.”

“If I’m bein’ honest, Bonnie,” Johnny grumbles, either not noticing the mistake or simply not registering it. “I wouldn’t fuckin’ care if it got covered in horse shit.”

—

You open the door to your home, shifting out of your bow and setting it against the wall with your quiver following to rest beside it as two siblings should.

“You’re lucky,” you hum, “I just went to the well this morning—freshwater is in the basin, cups on the table.”

John’s eyes give a firm once-over, fingers fidgeting above his sword’s hilt. He nods once, moving into the doorway, and immediately goes to where you describe and grabs onto a carved cup, tilting it in his hands.

“Thank you,” he mutters sincerely, hand dipping into the collection of water. “Eh,” John puffs a laugh, “I’d imagine I would still be stumbling along if it wasn’t for you, little Lady. These woods are larger than I remember them.”

“You come from around here?” You ask, brushing down your wool wrapping as you pull at the burs in the fiber. “Don’t recall your face in the town, though I’m not there often.”

“Hm,” he takes down the water, and you watch his Adam’s Apple bob as droplets slip from his lips to drop off his chin. Once he had drunk the entire cup, he removed it and wiped at his mouth with his forearm, blue eyes peeking above it. “I…wasn’t in town usually. Not really my place—the forests outside of my property took most of my attention.” He confesses, head tilting as the strange cut of his hair flops along with his skull. “Those, I could run blind.”

“I’m sure,” you puff a laugh.

While the air was somewhat calm, there was still an underlying hesitancy: Johnny didn’t know who you were, and you didn’t know what he was running from. Both were important questions that needed to be answered. Yet, John seemed the casual type.

“Doubt me?” His eyes narrow, a smile brewing.

“I never said that,” you walk past him, also grabbing a cup before dipping it into the basin. Your finger points. “But it would be interesting to test.”

“Unfortunately,” John breathes, setting down his cup, “I’m occupied at the moment.”

“A groom would be,” you tilt your head, casually sipping at your drink. “Your wife must be fucking fuming right now.”

The room flips on itself, and the man is instantly frozen.

Johnny stares, shocked, and you see his feet instinctually ready a stance to either blot to the door, or to take up his sword. His expression is layered with secrecy.

“...What was that?”

“I said your wife must be fucking fuming,” you say louder, slipping your hand into your pocket and shrugging to make it seem meaningless—your dagger’s hilt is smooth under your flesh. “Or did you not finish the ceremony? Betrothed, then, Johnny Boy?” Your eyes glint. “Hell, the event must have been absolutely laced with wealth. Did you have wine imported? New fabrics for your wedding clothes? I’d almost be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“That’s none of your business, Dearie,” he levels, glare heavy and firm while his face is stoic. You can clearly see his body wound up like a wild dog. “I think we’re done here.”

He backs up quickly, legs taking him to the exit until you’re suddenly right behind him, and the man feels the sharp press of a blade into the back of his spine.

Your lips are at his ear, and you chuckle. “Sorry, but we’re not done until anything valuable is in my hands and not on your body.”

“If you wanted me naked,” he growls, glaring from over his shoulder, as his form is rod-straight. “You could have just asked, Little Thief.”

“I’d call it heavy persuasion,” you chuff. “Sounds better, don’t you think.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Johnny barks, teeth gnashing. “Put the knife down before this gets ugly.”

“I’m not entirely sure I want to,” your answer meets the air. “There’s enough silver and fine fabric on you to feed me for an entire winter, even when the deer move to better grounds.”

John grits his molars, his neck bent as his fingers twitch at his sides, slipping along to his sword slowly.

“Money? That’s why you’ve got a bloody blade on me? Christ, my day just keeps getting better and better.” You glare, anger moving behind your eyes.

“Some people have to work for what they want, you—” Your hand is slapped to the side as John spins, and your dagger is sent along the floor in a loud clatter; a hand finding your upper arm as you gasp, and, suddenly, there’s the chilled edge of a blade at your throat.

Wide-eyed, you gape at John as the man smirks at you, yet his orbs are infected with annoyance.

“When you draw a knife on someone, you best know how to use it.” The edge is slightly pressed deeper and your body refuses to move. “You put it at the neck, Cat-Eyes.” John frowns, glaring. “Knew there was something about you—down to the bow and arrows.”

“What,” you growl out, a low embarrassment stemming in your gut as John’s puffs of breath move along your face. Your face burns, and your fingers jerk with anger. “A woman can’t have hobbies?”

“Not when I find ‘em up trees waiting to ambush any bastard that comes by wearing silver.”

“Mate,” you sneer, eyes glimmering. “At this point, you can keep your damn silver. It’s more of a reward to watch you stumble like a fool through the woods five feet from the road.” Johnny’s face tightens, yet there’s little time to fight like children anymore when the sound of breaking branches is echoing off the windows of the house.

Both of your necks whip to the door, yours a great deal more carefully as you’re slightly nicked by the sword's edge, but the drip of blood is voided. High voices carry over the air.

“Find him!”

“His tracks lead through here—get the hounds on it!”

“Here!”

Your brow raises, smirk getting larger as you chuckle under your breath. “Better get on your way quickly, then.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Johnny snarls, all at once ripping his sword from your neck yet keeping his ruthless grip on your upper arm. He looks nervous now—his eyes jumping from one place to another, thinking. “Where’s the damn road, you minx.”

You shrug, eyes sharp. “What road, Lord?”

The strong man rages, eyes burning with a thousand suns as the sword is taken from your neck and re-sheathed in one motion—a second hand staples itself to your waist, gripping tightly. You blink, saliva swallowed down thickly at the dig of heavy fingers into flesh as your heart stutters.

“You’re going to tell me,” John levels, shifting the both of you back as the sounds of fast footsteps are echoed by the bay of dogs. “As much as I would enjoy being away from you in any capacity at all,” you smile humorously to him through his dead-tone monologue, “I need a guide out of these woods and across the land. If you won’t help willingly, I’ll just have to make do.”

You blink, confused.

“Make do?” Your body is taken up, and you shout as you’re ruthlessly flung over the man’s shoulder with a hiked toss.

Johnny’s smirk is lost to you, but his chuckle is not as he dashes to the door and slams it open, taking a quick left and looping the house—diving into the foliage as if a fish to water. “Unhand me, you brute!” You scream, clawing and hitting at the man’s back—kicking even, as your knee speedily finds his ribcage. “Ow!” John laughs, his grin highly amused as he turns back to look at you. The shouts from the trees get larger, but that doesn’t help you much as you’re both soon going deeper and deeper into the woods. “Jesus, you have a pair of legs, don’t you?”

“If I were marrying you,” you bark down at him, struggling with all of your might as your home disappears from view. “I’d be running instead of the other way around!”

“Well,” Johnny calls, his sword bouncing off of his hip. “It’s a good thing you’re not, then, isn’t it, you bonnie little thief? Your husband would be dead and all of his coin in your dirty pockets!”

“Stop calling me a thief!” You send a closed-fisted slap to the top of his head, and he grunts, balking to the side. “Learn how to handle a fucking lady!”

“Lady?” He breathes heavily, shoving into another bush as leaves get tangled in his hair—twigs stuck in yours as you scowl rabidly. “If you’re a lady, Bonnie, then I’ve got a beast waiting for me back at my ceremony.”

—

He stopped when the light of the sun was low, and your constant attack of his spine left an array of large, fist-shaped bruises on his skin.

“Easy,” John grunts, dropping you with a huff to a down-turned stump.

It isn’t long before you shoot back up, hands clawing for his throat. “Hells Bells!” The man ducks, boyish glint in his eyes as he darts to the side, stepping out of the way as you stumble on tingly legs.

“I’m going to skin you alive,” you yell. “Piece of utter dog shite!”

“Now that’s a bit strong,” John breathes, panting from his mad run for his single life. “Don’t you think?”

You take one step forward, and he takes two back—stuck in a game of cat and mouse. Your eyes are like tiny fires, illuminated with only anger and hatred.

“Give me one reason why I should even attempt to help you,” your screams rise above the trees, hands splayed as John puts his hands to his knees, taking down breaths as sweat dribbles down his neck into his vest. “You-you,” your tongue fumbles, “kidnapper!”

“Technically, it would be an abduction, Dearie.” You slap him across the face and see the man’s cheeks go red from the blow. Shoving your nose nearly right into his, you sneer.

“Correct me again, and it’ll be your balls I hit next.”

He swallows, blinking, before he smirks and pairs it with a chuckle as his eyes spark. “Yes, Ma’am.”

You growl as he holds up his hands, moving one to rub at the back of his neck and itch at the shaved portion of his scalp. That damned smirk—you despised it.

“Get me to the closest port,” John settles, getting to business as his expression mellows out. “And I’ll make it worth your while, I give you my word.”

“What?” You laugh, shaking your head in exasperation the longer the silence falls; realizing how serious the man is. “Oh God in Heaven, this has to be a joke.”

“Anything you ask for, you can have from me when this is over,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his mud-caked shoes. “I don’t need more than the fee to secure a spot on a good ship sailing away from here, and whatever is left I’ll give to you if you want it. You win in this situation, and I’m not trying to hide it from you.”

Your sharp eyes hone in, unwavering in its heat.

“Christ,” Johnny breathes, “I’d even give you my damn socks if that’s what it takes—I need to get out of here. Quickly.”

You stare, sneering. “Is your betrothed a damn witch or what?”

Blue eyes blink, and his words are firm as they meet air. “Are you taking up my offer or not, Cat-Eyes?”

“Of course, I’m taking the offer!” You bark ruthlessly, rolling your eyes as you kick at the dirt. Rocks and grass fly as darkness settles heavier. “I’m not a fool.”

“Well,” he sighs in relief, looking to the shadows along the ground. “I can’t say you’re that, either, but you are certainly something.”

You narrow your eyes at Johnny but don’t waste your time any longer as you turn and study what you can see.

You had grown up here—in this land. The woods knew you just as much as you knew them. Already you could pinpoint a general map of this section based on the large cracked boulder to your right, and the tiny cluster of trees across the way. You knew the way to town, and from there, the port.

“It’s a three-day walk,” you grumble, side-eyeing the man as he moves to lean against a trunk. He wouldn’t be moving through the night—you didn’t complain on that front either. “You grab at me like that again, and I’ll—”

“Let me guess,” Johnny raises a brow. “You’ll hit me in the balls.”

Your thin lips tell him all he needs to know.

Shuffling past him, you frown and pull your wrapping closer, shuffling your chin into it. No fires for warmth, you know—not with people on your trail.

“I want an explanation,” you turn and dig into him, walking closer as John looks to the side. “If I’m sticking my neck out, I want answers as well as coin.” Poking him in his chest, you force your neck to find his gaze. “Why are you running?”

Johnny sighs, licking his lips as he nods with a low, “Fine.”

You tilt your head, and John moves back to sit against the stump, moving out his hands in an honest display.

“I was told I needed to marry and produce heirs if my house was going to survive, aye?” He states, and you know the story well. “My parents are gone, and my sisters are all married, but my estate is barren of anyone besides myself and the staff. To keep the peace, I gave my word that I would join into a union to secure my assets for my bloodline.”

It was all so formal, the talk of a wife and children—you never understood it. Why couldn’t people simply marry who they love and leave it at that? All this bloodline and assets. Don’t they ever get sick of it?

“What’s your last name, then,” you ask. “McDuff? Mackenzie?”

“MacTavish,” John shakes his head, rubbing his hand up and down the back of his neck. Blue eyes stay with yours. “John MacTavish, I have lands to the North.”

Your brows tighten, arms going to cross themselves. “You’re running from your home because of a union you can freely exit?”

“It isn’t free,” he grumbles, shaking his head firmly and setting his jaw. “My father’s wishes for his children were written down and sealed. I was to marry a daughter of Arthur Campbell when I came of age.” John chuckles face going a bit pink. “As you can see, I’m a good few years past that.”

You tilt your head, and while Johnny was certainly passed the normal age of a male in his position to be wed, it struck you as odd as to why he didn’t want to be in the first place. In marriage during these times, a man has little to lose when joined. Almost nothing else changes for them except another title is added to their long line of others already living under him.

John continues, and you stay your snake-like tongue for now. “Wasn’t until I learned that by now, Mr. Campbell’s second born daughter, who was the only one near my age, had passed nearly an entire year ago—leaving only the oldest behind.”

“And?” You hum, intrigued to see where this goes. Johnny itches at his chin, scratching the stubble that lives there along with the dirt and grime. “What, I’d imagine the head of the Campbell family wanted to uphold the arrangement?”

“Aye, they did,” John grunts, nodding. “Fiona Campbell was the woman I was set to marry today.” He pauses, sighing heavily before looking to the side. Darkness had set, and there was little light by way to see the expression of guilt growing on his face. “I’m not lyin’ when I say I didn’t want to make such a mess of it, but there’s only so much a man can do when he learns his bride is not only twice his age,” John breathes, grunting, “but also just…” He stops himself, sighing.

You frown, gut swirling.

“She was blank, do you understand?” Johnny asks, motioning a hand in a display of unknowing explanation. “All she seemed to care about was children and wealth. A slate waiting to be filled with someone else’s thoughts and ideas. I didn’t want to be the one to fill it—I’ll not be some husband that runs a wife around like a dog. That isn’t right to me; it wasn’t how I was raised.”

Your mind twists on itself with an indefinable feeling—skin tight to your bones as if taken and tied by ropes. Your heart pumps blood a little harder, but just because this man seems less of a bastard doesn’t mean you like him. He’d dragged you into this hunting party of his grand problem, and the sooner you got your payment, the better and easier it would be to disappear.

“How noble,” you huff, rolling your eyes. Yet, your voice is hiding an under-the-breath shock. “So you bolted into the woods?”

Johnny rubs at his nose bridge, growling in annoyance. “Yes—it was the best cover I had. Been going through the trails since sunrise.” He slaps his hands to his knees and stands back up with a grunt and an ache in his thighs. His sarcastic voice peels the shadows. “Are we satisfied, now, Bonnie?”

“I won’t be until you’re out of my sight,” you level, moving forward. “So are you going to bed so I can drag you to the port or not?”

John’s body is heard shifting as you slip down the trunk of a tree, backside hitting grass as you settle in for a restless sleep—pulling your wrap tighter over your shoulders. Here you were: weaponless and in the company of a runaway groom still in all of his finery.

You wanted that damn boar broach.

“Sleep’ll be smart, we need to be up early,” John says seriously, his shoes shifting the leaves. Letting the chill seep in, you burrow into your fabrics and glare ahead. Johnny’s sly voice is so reminiscent of yours, that you have to wonder if the two of you were cut of the same cloth. “I won’t be opposed to a cuddle if you get chilly, Little Lady—”

“I should have stabbed you when I had the chance.”

Johnny’s low chuckles waft over the air, and then the silence settles fully.

Yet, you’re up far later than you anticipated…and you find this honest man’s confession to be bouncing inside of your skull like an enraged bird.

—

“Christ, did I do that?” A finger is pressed under your chin, tilting your head up as you strangle a gasp at the sudden motion.

Johnny looks at the tiny cut along your neck from the edge of his sword—the barely-there irritation of the skin that you’d been itching at as you walked forward through the trees.

He frowns, glancing into your eyes as your body stills at the feeling of warm flesh.

It was the first day of walking, and the silence between the two of you had stayed. Not only were you annoyed at the situation, but also John’s story—you’d been mulling it over since last night.

But below that anger, you might have even felt a little wrong.

“Who else?” You sigh sarcastically to the man, trying to hide the rising flood of heated shock. Thick digits drag along your esophagus slowly in study, and John’s face creases the longer he looks. He’s hunched near you, too—and you can smell the low scent of leather and earth.

Johnny pulls back with a huff and slips a hand into his sporran. Your eyes watch with blatant distrust until a relatively clean rag is taken out by a steady hand.

He motions with it. “Come ‘ere. Let me get the dirt out of it before it gets infected, eh?”

You sigh lowly but decide it’s a good idea at the very least before nodding—John’s fingers return as the light from above leaks through the branches. The morning was cold, but not unreasonable; the woods gave shelter from the otherwise abusive wind of the open country.

“Look at that,” you breathe, “The first nice thing you’ve done for me.”

“Ah,” John lightly glares. “Not quite right—I carried you away instead of making you run with me.”

Your eyes roll, and Johnny’s chuckle echoes off the surroundings.

“Such a gentleman,” you grumble, feeling the rag press into your throat and the soft scrape of it across your scratch.

“So,” the man hums, blue eyes stuck to your flesh as he takes care of it far more nicely than you’d imagined someone to be. “Seeing as I’ve shared my sob story, Cat-Eyes, I think I’d like to ask after yours.” His voice is full of amusement. “As we’ll be keeping one another company.”

“It’s less as in-depth than yours,” your fingers twitch as Johnny moves back after the cleaning is done—returning the rag to his sporran as he blinks.

“I don’t believe that,” he raises a brow, as you ignore the remembrance of his touch and continue, paving the trail as the dark-haired man follows a close distance behind. “Can’t say there’s many times I’ve seen an unwed woman wielding a bow and thieving someone out of their money. I’ve seen a lot of things, Bonnie,” he laughs, “but never that. Scared the hell out of me when you dropped down.”

“You can add me to the top of the list, I suppose,” you puff a teasing breath. After an expecting pause in the conversation, you grow bored of the nothingness.

“I’ve lived out here my entire life—I do what I have to. That’s all there is to it.”

John’s face gradually pulls into itself, only looking away from you to glance at the path to make sure he won’t fall.

“No family?”

“None,” you tilt your head, shimmying under a low branch and pushing leaves off your shoulders. They sway to the ground softly as you brush an arm over your forehead, sensing Johnny’s attention.

The man grunts. “M’sorry.”

Your feet stumble for a moment, pace faltering, until you cover it up easily. You turn to stare, narrowing your eyelids as open blues watch silently. John’s shoulder brushes yours.

“It’s life,” you blankly answer. “Least I wasn’t married off. Where you had to worry about a blank slate, I had to worry about becoming a broodmare for a man who most likely would never love me.”

Johnny licks his lips, eyes darting to the ground. “Can’t imagine you like that,” he mutters, but it isn’t some joke—he’s truthful.

“Perfect,” is what his ears twitch to. “Because I’d sooner act like you and bolt from my wedding as well.”

“Would that make me the thief in your story, then?” Johnny asks, chuffing as he smiles towards you, reaching a hand above him to push another branch out of the way—separating it from your form as you bend under. “I’m tellin’ you, I wouldn’t be very good at it. All that dropping down from trees would have my knees screamin’. Not that they don’t already.”

Your laugh pierces his chest, and the man sends a kind if not a bit startled, show of interest to you. It sounded like a bowstring slapping a wrist—harsh and telling all at once: something to be known and understood even if heard only once.

John blinks at you, and his heart patters along in his chest.

“I think it would be more fun to think about you with a dagger,” you narrow your gaze at him, smiling. “A small thing like that would disappear in your hands, Johnny Boy.”

“Disappear?” He tilts his head, raising his hands to hover in front of him. “Ah, they’re not that big, are they?”

You shift, and, nearly without thinking, you slip your hand to sit above his. Johnny makes a noise in the back of his throat, eyes going wide as you reference the size of his grip under yours, but allows you to regardless. A blue gaze slides to your face, openly imploring, before they dart back down to your shared hands as the roughness of his callouses scraped against your flesh.

“Care to compare?” You smirk, lifting a brow.

Johnny’s lips parted quickly, blinking a few times as he tried to find the words to accompany his running mind. He clears his throat, but the small sheen of red pigment on his cheeks is undeniable.

Laughing, you detach the connection and pull ahead, leaving the man behind as he stutters with a fast pulse.

“You’re the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” is what he decides minutes later, a large grin on his face—he was enjoying this, for whatever twisted and flawed reason, he was. John’s adrenaline was pumping, his heart was pounding, and his feet were passing over the earth, yet, even better, his brain was sparking at a mile a minute for the woman who walked only three feet ahead of him. He watches you take these trails like an expert, not having to look down at your feet as stone and wood are passed as if you were water above them, whispering and nearly silent.

“At least I’m not boring.” Your eyes meet him, and in them, they create some horribly beautiful amalgamation of twin flames—two sparking fires that feed from the same ember. “You would never catch me becoming a housewife, Johnny Boy.” Your gazes never break. “There are far too many things to steal in this country, and so very few men who can keep up.”

John’s chest moves in the beat of his pulse—his attention wholly transfixed upon the sight of this wild-born woman whom he’d only met yesterday. There were leaves in your wrap, and brown-black mud coated up to your ankles, even sweat sitting at your temple, yet you moved with grace befitting a Lady: never seeming to tire of jokes or firm surety. Yet…you weren’t cruel—you weren’t without purpose.

Any accomplished thief would have just stabbed him and taken what they needed in your house. You offered John water, however, you chose to give him a chance to comply. It was such a small thing in the grand scheme, but Johnny was always one to analyze how one feather on a bird can affect the flight pattern, so to speak. One action that speaks volumes.

You liked creating games, and, lucky for him, John loved to solve them.

And that glint in your sharp-slitted eyes was becoming more and more enjoyable every second, he found.

Pushing back the strands of his wayward hair, John keeps up with you for every step, not unfamiliar with how to traverse unsteady terrain. He wasn’t lying in what he told you—he had spent most of his life in the forest beside his home: hunting, fishing, riding. There wasn’t an activity he didn’t enjoy when he was outside, though his mother was always heavy on him about the mess he brought back.

Blue eyes drop back down to your dirt-laced pants, and the man can’t help but give his best, lip-pulling smile.

Hell, if he didn’t know any better, he would say that you were something that made so little, and at the same time so much, sense to him.

“Well, maybe they just aren’t accustomed to hiking, Little Cat-Eyed Thief.”

There was something special in the glances you two would throw one another.

—

Your hands dip into the clear water, fingers open to feel the current drag through them gently.

“If you want a sip,” you say, cupping the liquid and bringing it up to your lips, “it’s safe. This river flows down from the hills—not perfect, but there’s only a small chance it’ll make you sick.”

John comes up and hums as he sits down beside you, folding his legs under him and leaning forward to submerge his arms up to his elbows in water. He sighs, and you hear the river gurgling as the man begins to rub up his flesh, getting rid of all the grime.

“Good to know.” Blue eyes spare you a look as he continues. “What’s this one called?”

“Woodney river,” you answer. “Old Man Jack Woodney ran a water wheel on this river a long walk West. If this place had a name before that, it won’t tell.”

Johnny washes his face, scrubbing at his stubble as the scratch of it plays in the side of your ear. You watch along the opposite shore, eyes going from trees to birds—even to the shadows of fish that quickly swim past. Sighing, you have to admit the beauty of this adventure. There were few times you could say you’d gone this far into the woods with no wealth to trade in with the townspeople.

You side-eye John and study him just as heavily as you do a wild animal.

He wasn’t unattractive, you admitted. Strong—sturdy. Johnny was capable in a way that most Lords wouldn’t be, some, you guessed, would already be complaining about the uncomfortableness of their clothes or the flesh of their blistered feet. But John was bright-eyed; more than once you’d seen him actively watching the stretch of the trees for any sign of his pursuers. He never complained. Not once.

“You’re not as insufferable as I thought you’d be,” you say. Frowning, your hands push back into the water and cup some of the chilled liquid. You let it drip before you extend your hand to your neck and feel your eyes droop in relaxation.

Johnny laughs, staring at you for a minute as he slowly raises a brow. His face shows amusement.

“Am I supposed to be insulted or not?”

“I leave that for you to decide.”

John cracks his knuckles and shakes his head as he stands. “C’mon,” he drags, but the smile in his voice is clear. A hand is set in front of yours. “Sooner I get out the port, the sooner I’m out of your hair.”

Your face softens slightly.

“Am I ever going to get an apology for being tossed like a sack of potatoes?” Skin meets skin as you slip your hand into his, and the man pulls you to your feet as you smile. Calluses brush yours, and yet again, you find you enjoy this game—perhaps more than any other you’d played before.

And you don’t understand why.

Johnny’s fingers are firm over yours, curling as water drips to the ground below in reflective droplets, and you think back to the first time you’d met him—panting breath and rapid eyes. Your eyes glance to that boar broach, and find it attached to a man that is suddenly more of a mystery than a closed book.

“Easy,” John mutters, steadying you by your shoulders as you remember where you are. The dark-haired man squeezes your flesh and looks into you.

Blue eyes glint, and that smirk, you find, is always followed by a tiny tint of his head. “And what’s that look for, Cat-Eyes?”

“You called me strange.”

John’s brows furrow. “Aye. I did.” He looks you up and down slowly. “You are.”

You do the same to him, not wasting more than a moment. “And I find it funny that you haven’t said the same thing about yourself. You’re far more strange than I’ll ever be.”

“Guilty,” Johnny smiles, nodding slightly. His hands are still on you, and he doesn’t seem to even notice. “I don’t think a normal one would fuck off from his own wedding, would he?”

“Or kidnap a woman as a guide,” you state, pulling out of his warm hold even as your stomach flips as you brush past

“Again,” John’s hand motions through the air. “Abduct.”

“You’re just saying that because it sounds slightly better,” you grimace over your shoulder. “Like comparing a dog to a wolf.”

Johnny is hot on your heels, and when the river-eroded stepping stones to the other side of the water are the clear path to take, he’s already on the first and holding out his arm for you as a true gentleman would. You glance at him and hop to the first stone, liquid sloshing at your shoes.

Your smirk is stuck with his like two pieces of a quilt, and neither of you realizes it.

“You put a knife to my back first, Dearie.” John puffs and his face is right next to your ear as you both cross the stones—you lean into him and elbow his side before your arm slips into his. The man grunts, blinking as he chuckles above the slosh of water.

“So? Maybe I only point knives at the men I like.”

“Then I’d say you have every right to put one right at my throat.”

Feet move carefully over rocks and the spray of the water that coats them—a dance of wit in their own right. It was like animals circling one another, all sharp eyes and pulled lips trying to find weaknesses. Deadly flirting and addictive banter.

Where annoyance was such a common emotion, now there was a near expectation of jabs; of tantalizing quips for the glimpse of another's mind.

Neither of you could understand the other, which was exactly why you both reveled in the brush of warm flesh.

“Careful,” your feet meet the hard ground once more on the other side, and John only lets go when he knows that you don’t need him to steady you. “You’re engaged, Johnny Boy.”

Your tease slips in one ear and out the other, and the man watches you turn and begin walking again with sly eyes. John’s wide gaze stays stuck there for a moment—mouth eager to continue any conversation given. Watching you walk, his heart beats speedily.

“I think my, ah, reputation has all but ruined my chances on that front—”

There’s something unique about the sound of an arrow sinking into flesh that can’t really be forgotten. John had heard it many times—even been behind the bow that shot it; the slap of the string across his forearm, the set of his shoulder blades widening until the arrow disappeared.

But there’s something worse knowing that the sudden expulsion of air from lungs, in fact, belongs to you and not some wild animal.

You’re hit in a fraction of a second, down on the ground in less than that—your mind not even understanding above the immediate pressure and the slam of earth. You gasp loudly, and then the pain hits.

Hand snapping to your left bicep, your eyes slash down to stare as grass and mud fly into the air, rabid sounds escaping the back of your throat at the image that strikes you. An arrow was stuck deep into your skin—sticking out as blacked feathers flutter at the end of the shaft. The adrenaline hits rapidly, but the expression of horror still remains.

“Cat-Eyes!” Johnny yells, rushing forward, and unsheathing his sword, the sound of metal on metal harsh, but not as harsh as the sound of blood in the man’s ears.

You see the swelling of crimson, and, from under your fingers, the red of blood slips as your breathing gets hoarse. Biting into your lip, the quick sound of an under-the-breath groan of agony ripples.

But you’re not stupid.

Scrambling to your feet with the arrow still poking out of you, Johnny gets to you and pushes you behind him just as your shaking legs straighten—-your eyes slashing the woods in panic. Pain can wait.

The runaway groom spares you quick glances, pushing you further behind as his raging gaze darts this way and that. He yells into the trees, anger and order infecting his voice, “Show yourself!”

Just as suddenly, there’s a relieved call and a moving shadow. You clench your eyes tight and grit your teeth as a wave of pain rockets through you.

“Fuck,” you grind out, lost under the louder voice. Blood drips to the ground.

“My Lord!” Men burst through the leaves, bows, and swords aloft. “Quickly—to us!”

Johnny’s face is stiff; there isn’t an ounce of care, but the flash of recognition is swift, and in his chest, his heart, once beating so quickly, drops to his stomach.

Knights. His knights. Christ, the two of you hadn’t been fast enough.

“Stand down!” John spits, and cares little now for the thought of robbery or assault on his person—these men wouldn’t hurt him, but they were tasked to bring him back. “Fucking bawbags, the lot of you.”

His sword is sheathed by twitching fingers, and no sooner were those digits around you instead.

You pant hoarsely, face tight as your vibrating body tells you to run—eyes locked onto Johnny’s, the man in front of you ushers you over to the trunk of a tree hurriedly, uttering, “Just breathe now, Dearie—listen to me. It’s alright, aye?”

“What is this?” You raggedly push out, flinching as your spine meeting the bark jostles your arm painfully.

Your teeth grit, tears collecting in the corner of your vision.

“Knights,” John mutters as if his words are chased by wolves. “They’re after me—probably thought you were either holding me hostage or trying to lead me into an ambush.” The colorful fabric of his pinned tartan is dragged off from over his shoulder and shoved into your weeping flesh, and you lightly moan in agony, head falling back to the tree.

Tears slip from over your cheeks.

“Easy.” John’s concern is palpable. Worried eyes dart from your face to your wound. “Jesus,” he utters under his breath, anger flashing.

“Who is this?” One of the knights asks, taking a step forward as Johnny holds the fabric to your wound and speaks to you lowly, utterly ignoring the people behind him.

“I need to break the shaft off, okay?” Blue eyes try to keep even, and John’s other hand captures your cheek. He levels your face right in front of his, breathing lowly. The man clears his throat as your tight gaze flutters, tightening his grip. “Hey,” Johnny breathes. You grunt, voice a low grind.

“Just make it quick.”

John’s lips thin. “Yes, Ma’am.”

His large hand swiftly moves to the arrow, gripping around it just where flesh meets wood, you hiss loudly, spitting and raging as your vision partially blackens. Pain sparks up and down your spine, racing like a cat after a mouse.

“Lord,” one knight tries again, coming closer and reaching out for Johnny’s shoulder. “We need to get you back to Castle Campbell—we’ve been hoping to find you unharmed for your future wife’s comfort. Everyone is in a panic!”

“I’ll count down to three,” Johnny whispers to you, breathing heavily as he swallows and steady himself, hand lightly clammy. He wished he had his hunting gloves with him, but this was the best he could do. “Eh,” the man grunts, eyes steady, “You listening, Bonnie?”

“I don’t care what you count to,” you nearly bark, orbs flashing. “Just break the damn thing off—!”

The wood snaps with a defining splinter, and your scream afterward has the man having to hold you up with his arms around your waist, muttering into your ear with his lips against the shell.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” John hears the clatter of the shaft to the grass just as the knight’s hand is heavily placed on his shoulder. “Breathe. M’right ‘ere.”

You sag into Johnny taking in the scent of sweat, blood, and dirt—the musk that stays even as your ears start ringing and the voices start getting louder.

“Best get your hands off o’ me before I break ‘em, Mate” Johnny grunts from deep in his chest, shifting your body to the side and effectively ripping his flesh out of the knight’s hold.

All the others shift nervously—hands on their swords and looking back and forth between the strange scene.

Who were you? A mistress? A bandit luring their Lord away? Why was he with you out here; going in the opposite direction of where the ceremony was supposed to take place? They’d been given orders, and a knight is no good unless he can follow them.

John MacTavish was needed, and their duty was to see it through.

Johnny’s tartan had fallen to the ground behind the two of you, getting kicked by feet as they shuffle and as your blood slips off of your limp fingers. Mind failing, your pain-addled form shakes even as the knowledge of imminent danger is present.

You needed to figure out a way to get out of here.

Pushing your head up from Johnny’s shoulder, your eyes flutter but manage to analyze what little you can see clearly—adrenaline can take care of most of your agony, only leaving a dull ache as your heart continues to rage.

A group of four knights have their hands on their swords, and all of their eyes are on John.

Run, a deep part of you urges. Your legs are still good. Take off—none of them know the terrain like you do. You’ll be free.

You pant, your nostrils flaring with every breath as your sweat trickles off your jawline. Johnny’s grip on you tightens, head shifting back and forth, unknowing where to anchor itself, not understanding which is more important—your state, or your safety.

Free, free, free.

Your mind flashes to an empty house: silent woods. How you would go months without seeing another human face, but that was your own choice.

Wasn’t it?

Your eyes slip to Johnny.

“We’ve been tasked with bringing you back, My Lord,” the first knight says, looking heavily upon the runaway. “We have our orders. Please understand.”

“And I’m telling you your orders are utter shite,” John spits. “So back the fuck up and drag yourself out of this place. Now.” He glares, teeth snapping. “Those are my orders.”

Your arm is numb, and your chest expands as it sits on John’s own. And you think.

You knew you were a selfish person.

There was no debate about it—even when you’d stolen enough coin to feed you for weeks, there was still a part of you that longed for some chase; some challenge to your senses. You liked stealing. You liked the looks on people's faces when they realized they were being swindled for every valuable item they had in their possession. But there was something you liked even more than all of that—a challenge.

Johnny, to you, was that challenge. He was the largest challenge you’d ever faced. A Lord who was running from a bride, a man who held his beliefs higher than praise or standing…a blue-eyed stranger who matches your poking jabs word for word.

“Damn,” your growl, and John takes it as an exclamation of pain.

He grits his teeth and studies you, opening his mouth as his concern grows at the smell of blood.

“We need to tie it off,” he utters. “Bastards made me drop the tartan—I’m sorry, Dearie.”

Your lips are near his ear.

“When I say ‘go,’ run to the left.”

Johnny halts, attention snapping down. His fingers flinch around you, face open until the mask of sudden knowledge flies over it like a curtain. But it’s gone just as quickly—hidden by intelligent eyes that glint.

He doesn’t question you, and, in the crux of your shoulder, you get a near-infinitesimal nod from Johnny’s head.

The guards grow suspicious, all mulling closer by the second the longer you two remain so close—on opposite ends, you feel your heart mirroring John’s in a rapid and ravaging pulse: Thump-thump, thump-pump, thump-pump-thump.

Your attention is split three ways.

One: the rising numbness of your limbs and the heat of your brain. Two: the spread of Johnny’s panting breath across your sweat-slick skin and his hands tightening. Three: knights and the clatter of their armor. How they slide their hands across their weapons like intimate partners—the tension building in a hemp bowstring and the sound of arrows hitting off one another; one taken and played with between fingers so similarly to how you would act.

Your tear-stained eyes glare at the knight who’d shot you, your expression building into an act of hatred.

They take a step forward.

“Cat-Eyes—” Johnny begins to warn slowly.

“Go.” Your words are no shout. They don’t echo off the trees, which all hold their breeze in expectation, they don’t ring in ears except the ones of the man holding you. But they’re like the personification of a sword strike—like the release of an arrow and the impending thump of it hitting home.

The knights dash forward with calls for their Lord to stand down, but John’s already flinched away with a heavy grunt.

You do the same, your plan already formed—you would run the opposite way as Johnny, only slipping off when the cover of bushes had enshrouded the both of you to create two sets of tracks. With any luck, the guards would break off into two groups and pursue the both of you, and you could easily lose yours.

From there, circle back and find John: get your bearings before—

Arms never detach from your waist, and you’re once more tossed into a strong grip.

Eyes bugging, your focus breaks as gravity leaves and your head goes light. Johnny dashes away, and, just as the last time, you’re in his boar-like hold.

“You idiot!” You bark, the only difference to your predicament now is that you’re held in a bridal grip and not slung over his sweaty shoulder. There was only a small sliver of relief before the annoyance overtook you.

Johnny’s body crashes through the leaves, the shouts of the knights following as he gruffly raises his voice to the wind. The trees shake with amusement.

“Thinking you could hand over some directions, Dearie?!”

“Thinking you could put me down?!” You shout back, your arm sparking with pain as your opposite wraps the man’s neck firmly. “Damn.” Your lips twist in response. “My legs work just fine, you know—I wasn’t shot in the arse!”

“Acting like you were,” John grumbles, a branch slapping his cheek before you can. Despite it all, he chuckles wholeheartedly at his own joke.

An arrow whizzes through the air, and you yelp, ducking behind his body even more as your skull fits under his jaw. Your eyes snap to the visible terrain as Johnny’s legs push from one side to the other, running in a zig-zag pattern to avoid any more injuries.

“There,” your brows rise, fighting past the pain to find the familiar slash of a gnarled willow tree that whizzes by in brown and dark green.

Your head rises to see more of the woods, only to be pushed back down by an all-expansive hand as John utters a fast-breathed and firm, “Not the best idea.”

He shoves through brambles, and the sounds of rampaging knights are gaining. The second John sloshes through a low pool with a loud curse, you know instantly where you two are.

“Take a left near the overhang with vines coming down!”

“That one?”

“Yes!”

And so this game continued long after the knights had been lost to the woods, stumbling about without any sense of where they were, and the two of you came to a panting halt an hour later. Deep night was setting in on the second day, and, as your shaky feet hit the ground, John kept a heavy eye on you.

“Steady,” he mutters, sweat pouring off his face; saturating his clothes. He worriedly stares, looking you up and down.

Your vision swirls, the glade around you the exact place you both needed to be. There were hills here—surrounded by thick trenches carved by rivers long dried. The stars were out, and the moon was shining down; one thin trickle of a river was feet away, the sound of water on rocks addictive to your pounding ears.

All of it was null to the way your gut flipped at the humming agony of your arm.

Your hand snaps to the puncture and the flood of blood is enough to leave your fingers dripping with crimson glinting in moonlight.

There’s a heavy ripping sound, and then you find yourself sitting down in the grass as Johnny shoves the torn fabric of his suit into the small river. You hear the splashing as you glance down at your arm before rapidly looking away, biting at your lip as your spine hunches.

“Christ almighty,” you growl, glaring to the side as your fingers quiver. Tears well.

“The arrowhead is keeping pressure,” John hurries to speak, trying to distract you just as his own exhaustion is bare to see. The rung-out fabric is looped around your arm, tying off until you have to strangle down a scream at the tightness on your flesh. “We have to keep it there until there’s enough sterile material to fix it up.”

“Your knights are pieces of work,” you hiss, more from the wound than anything.

John gives a little look, blue eyes darting up until falling.

“Aye, they are.” His strong jaw clenches. “This shouldn’t have happened, Dearie.”

You stare as he finishes up, and you feel his fingertips slipping along your arm. Your eyelids droop, closing as your nostrils suck in shaky air. You take a moment to take in the silence that follows, John’s eyes not straying as your face is illuminated.

He watches the streaks of dirt along your skin, and, in a soft attempt to fix this, he stands and moves to the river once more—cleaning his hands. Johnny takes the rag out of his sporran and wets it, coming back to your body as the grass waves back and forth.

“Let me…” the man says slowly, and your eyes open back up as the chilled item is pushed to your cheek.

Wide orbs staring forward, you swallow as John concentrates on cleaning your skin carefully.

“Infection is my immediate concern,” the man says with a sigh, yet continues as your tongue stays tied; face growing more heated by the second. “But you mentioned it takes three days to the town, aye? That’s not unmanageable with two already under our feet.”

Blood, dirt, and sweat slip away with every drag of the fabric, and, stuck into his suit, that boar broach still sits—crooked now, but still there.

Your attention is momentarily taken by it, and your fingers twitch before you notice how very close John’s face is to yours.

The man focuses, relaying a plan as you’re stuck mute; your arm holding its own heartbeat as the grass shifts.

“I’ll use what I have to get you into a doctor. Make sure there’ll be no problems before I get going.” John blinks, tilting his head. “‘Course, that’ll decrease the amount you’ll get in turn.”

“Fortunately for you,” you breathe, voice strained, and blue eyes stick to yours. John pauses, brows slightly pulling up on his face. “I value my own life too much to complain about a man paying for my care.”

John’s rag stays where he placed it, right on the swell of your cheek as, this close to one another, you can see the scar on his chin—one that curves to the muscle and bone.

He was handsome, make no mistake about it. You knew it; you understood it. A lord with morals and the smarts to go along with the strength—now that was utterly unheard of. You liked that, truthfully. Someone who could think, and plan.

And, of course, follow directions.

“You’ll be fine,” John mutters, glancing to the side, yet his head doesn’t move back. He clears his throat with a sigh.

You roll your eyes, moving out and grabbing his hand with the rag. Johnny’s expression startles, arm tensing as you steal the dripping fabric from him. Water runs down your neck.

“I know I am.” You huff, smiling.

You push the rag onto his own face, and begin your cat-like approval of his character, washing away the grime just as he had your own. A blue gaze stays firmly on your flesh, the man’s shoulders loosening until he’s sitting just in front of you. Verident grass whispers in a language like a soft breeze, and you study Johnny’s skin until everything becomes a mosaic of scars and blemishes—stories woven into sinews holding as much history as the tines on an elk or the chipped tusks of a boar.

Two days and he’d become even more of a mystery than he had been before. Or maybe he always had been, and now your previous contentment had grown into an addictive curiosity.

He’d called you Cat-Eyes.

You couldn’t love a title more—not even if Lady were on the table.

“I settle my scores,” you grunt, tilting your head as you push back mud from his forehead, leaning in. “You wash my face, I wash yours.”

“Literally, then?” A sarcastic eyebrow makes you huff.

“Is that not what I’m doing, Johnny Boy?”

“Seems so, Cat-Eyes.”

Your matching glares hold no venom.

Smirking, you lean back after the last swipe at his forehead, pushing Johnny’s skull back as he chuckles, moon-lit visage something you would see scrawled on the parchment of an old story-teller's sketches. A man not made for this age.

Your face softens slowly, and it is a strange thing sitting atop the sharpness of your eyes.

John’s chuckles fade, and his breath catches in his throat.

“You’re an odd fellow, John MacTavish,” you say, here, with blood from an arrow wound drying to crack along your skin.

Your head tilts, eyes narrowing.

John’s lips slowly pull upwards, and the water on both of your faces drips to the listening earth. This place is alive with possibilities, and all of them stem from the growing draw of twisted human souls.

A just Lord and a cunning thief.

A sharp-eyed cat and a strong-bodied boar.

A future and a past—riddled with arrow marks; long sword slashes.

“Well…then I’m thinking we make quite the pair, Bonnie.”

—

The third day was spent on the latter half of the journey. Re-correcting the course and giving the best directions you could with the numb ache of your arm spreading up your shoulder.

But the town came easily as the midday sun rose to crest your heads.

“Want to lean on me?” Johnny asks, standing close by, but you’re already shaking your head.

“Feels better to keep myself focused,” you mutter, grimacing. You look at the entrance to the town, and as you both walk it, the stares are immediate—shocked residents looking at the haggard appearance of two individuals.

“Alright,” John sighs, side-eyeing you. “Just let me know if you’re goin’ to keel over, yeah?”

“Duly noted,” you tilt your head his way. Your lips smirk like a smug child. “You’ll catch me, won’t you?”

Johnny chuckles, shrugging his wide shoulders as his tattered finery is chock-full of brambles and leaves.

“Can’t say no to that.”

The Lord kept his promise—the doctor took the arrowhead, cleaned, cauterized the wound, and sutured you back up. For payment, as you lightly touch the bandaged section of your arm, you find your eyes freezing as a silver glinting reflects off the light through the window.

Johnny hands over his boar broach to the doctor.

Widely staring at the prize being pawned off for your health, your heart stutters in heavy greed.

No, you rapidly think. No, that was the one thing that I—

Your eyes inexplicably snap to Johnny.

The immediate thought is that he looks angry, but, the next and more accurate one, is that he looks sad.

John’s blues continue to follow the broach as it disappears into the doctor's pocket, and you see the weight fall back to his chest and arms—sitting heavy like a stone. The man’s feet shift along the ground for a moment, and he looks like he’s about to say something before he grits his teeth and shakes his head to himself. John grunts, fixing his nose.

You blink, and then your heart twists in on itself for no reason at all.

Or maybe there was a reason.

“C’mon, Cat-Eyes,” Johnny sighs heavily, tilting his head as his arms cross. “Time to see me off, then.”

He walks out the door, and your eyes follow like a loyal dog.

Standing there for a moment, your lips contort your face into a deep frown, sharp eyes gaining a sheen of light anxiety. Yet, there was no mistaking it—it had been said a million times—if there was one thing you could do, it was play a game.

Maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

“Oh my,” you mutter, putting a hand to your head and stumbling.

The doctor starts forward quickly, grasping at your un-injured arm. “Careful now, Woman. Don’t rip my sutures.”

He tells you, getting you fully up as you chuckle, placing your hands above his thigh, fingers twitching on the fabric.

“Apologies, apologies,” you mutter, retracting your hand and cupping it against your abdomen with a meek smile. “Just a little lightheaded. Thank you, Doctor.”

“Best be off, now,” the man grumbles, and you’re out the door swiftly.

Your shoes meet the cobble as you shift your hands into your pockets, shifting your body to look along after the large form that leans against the home waiting for you.

“Ready?” Johnny asks, though his attention is firmly planted on the ground five feet away, lost in thought.

“Aye,” you sigh, nodding your head to the East. “Port’s that way—let’s get this nightmare over with.”

“Hm,” Johnny agrees, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Quite the adventure for a runaway.”

“You can’t have thought it would be easy?” Your brows furrow. “You’re heir to the MacTavish lands.”

“I never said I thought it would be easy,” John moves at your side, a great hulk of honesty. He hands over his attention at last as you fiddle with the smooth item in your pocket. He huffs. “Just that it was an…experience, to say the least. One I’m not sure I’d want to go through again.”

“You’ll miss me,” you say confidently, meeting eyes with a smirk and a cocky shift to your form despite the lessening pain.

Johnny watches. He smiles, eyes crinkling. “Aye. I will.” You pause, expression stilling. The man hums, and you swear there’s something special in the way you can describe his look as delicate.

“You were the one part that I don’t regret,” he says lastly to you as if the words aren’t spears laced with poison.

Your breath gets caught in a way it never has, and John seems not to notice as he pulls ahead, muttering about him seeing the docks. The smell of salt water slaps your nostrils.

The legs under you slow until they’re stopped, and you look after the man as he begins speaking to workers along the port, asking for a spot on the large ships that sit in the water, rocking with the winds.

Your eyes trail, seeing the way he talks with such confidence—openly offering physical labor as his payment for even the dark quarters with the other laborers.

After what seems like hours of watching, you see him shake another man’s hand, and, just like that, passage is earned. He jogs back over, smiling.

You open your mouth to say something, but find the words null and void. You don’t know what to express. For once in your life, everything seems to be moving horrifically fast.

“Well,” John’s expression slowly sombers. “I suppose this is it then. I said you could ask for anything, and, I suppose,” he shifts the sword on his belt off after a moment, looking down at it. He holds the item, testing its weight. “I suppose this is all I have left.” Blue eyes slowly meet yours. “If you’ll take it.”

Always a thief, never a saint.

“I suppose it’ll have to do, Johnny Boy,” you sigh, the pain in your heart outweighing the one on your arm. “Hand it over.”

The sword is transferred and slipped to your waist. Many a man on the docks gives you strange looks, and, you find you welcome it—none could compare to the admiration in Johnny’s.

You lick your lips.

“Do one thing for me, hm?”

“Anything,” John mutters, not blinking.

You move forward, and place a firm kiss to his lips.

The man freezes, fingers twitching at his sides, before he sags and bends into you—his great hand capturing your cheek until all that remains in the sear of his heat and the scent of the earth.

You softly pull away, though not far enough as to where you can’t feel his breath on yours. Gazing into his eyes, you smile the widest you can remember.

“Don’t go running away from another wedding anytime soon. I can only save so many Lords until my reputation gets slandered.”

“You’re ruthless,” John growls, smirking as his eyes glint, looking you up and down. “Little Thief.”

He leans in for another kiss, but your hands only shift above his sporran before you dart back, chuckling.

“Always,” your hands brush his sword on your hip as you walk backward, grinning behind the strange pressure in your heart. If someone asked, you wouldn’t even know how to describe it.

John takes a step after you, face open and raw—an emotion you feel like mirroring if not for your excellent control.

Not yet.

“I’ll take care of this,” you call, patting the weapon.

“Good,” Johnny calls, taking one more step forward before stopping himself. One of the shipmates calls from the dock, and his eyes snap there with a jaw tense. He looks back at you and blinks, brows pulling in. In the heat of the moment, he exclaimed, “I’ll be back for it one day, Cat-Eyes!”

“Lovely!” You yell, back turning. “I’ll be waiting for you then. I do hope you’ll be able to get through the woods, and, please, don’t keep a woman waiting! You’re much too handsome for any of that.”

And then you’re gone.

Johnny stares at where you were, his smile large and his face heated, and after a louder call from the dock, he’s forced to turn and jog to the ship, hurrying up the board until he can stand on the swaying deck with his two feet.

He looks around, chuckling to himself, and still, his eyes shift back to land without fail; hoping for a glimpse—a small shadow.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, the man reaches into his sporran for his rag, intent to clean and set it to dry when he’s able to get the chance to settle in. It’s one of the last items to his name no matter how pathetic.

Yet, his hands touch something far more precious.

Johnny’s body goes as straight as a tree when his fingers caress smooth metal, and, slowly, his grip pulls out the silver of his broach.

It glints in his palm as he sets it there, and his breath is stolen in one great bound of shock and confusion.

“What in the…” He already knows.

Johnny’s feet take him to the railing gently, and his body stands there—torn wedding clothes and all looking over a town that begins to move as the ship sets sail. He holds the broach carefully, not intending to let it go for an age. He just needs to lay low for a while. He needs time.

John smiles.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” he mutters to the moving homes, and he swears he sees the glint of a sword from between the buildings, and two sharp eyes digging into him.

You’re there, of course. Hidden as always.

You want your trees back, and you think that a day of sitting in your Oak is a good idea.

There’s dirt on your face again—your lips are chapped and your face is bitten by the wind; scars and blemishes that time won't heal but make all the more visible as the ages pass by on bird’s wings and cat purrs. Yet here is an action held immemorial.

A gift given freely by a thief is one to be treasured like pure gold, and the man on the ship knows that more intimately than any other as he clips the broach to himself with a hum.

You both watch the other from opposite, distant points until there’s no sun in the sky left to see with. Just a faint hope lights the way: the hope that your eyes will grace each other's visage, at the very least, just one more time in your life.

There was never a story so willing to be experienced than that of a runaway groom and his cat-eyed Thief.

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 4 months

Text

Bruce Wayne x BATMOM!Reader

Title: "Blood thirsty Gremlin"

Character(s): Bruce Wayne, Female!Batmom!Reader, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, and Tim Drake.

Warnings: None

Prompts Used: In bold print and credit goes to @skriveting

NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO POST/TRANSLATE MY WORK TO OTHER APPS OR WEBSITES. Thank you <3

OTHER BATMOM!READERS (CLICK THE TITLES)

"A Snowman, A Nosebleed, and the Wayne's"-CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

"Annabelle" - HALLOWEEN SPECIAL

"A Trophy and Chloroform"

Every summer, Bruce would have the field behind Wayne Manor cleaned, trimmed, and tended to. The grass would be cut, the trees would be cleaned up, and overall, the field was maintained. Bruce even added a man-made stream to divide the field in half.

There was reasoning as to why this said field was properly maintained, and so much effort was put into it. This reasoning was the Wayne’s Summer Fun! (At least, that is what you called it)

Every Summer, your family would choose one day out of the week to camp, cook out, and stay in the field to play games all week long.

Bruce and the boys gave up their vigilante antics for the week so you could spend quality time together. Plus, you just wanted the boys to feel like they had a good childhood, and it wasn’t just full of training and fighting criminals once the sun went down.

It was the end of the week and tomorrow the boys would go back to their normal schedule, and you and Bruce would go back to work. Every year, you would end “The Wayne’s Summer Fun” with a game of capture the flag. The boys loved it, and every year, you would switch up team members so the games would stay interesting.

And every year, one of the teams would receive a trophy, that was normally given to the winner of monopoly, and every year, someone would end up in a fight. (But that story has already been told: click here to read).

This year, your team consisted of Bruce and Damian. Jason, Dick, and Tim were the blue team, and your team was the red team. Alfred was merely just the mediator, and he would sit in a deer stand that Bruce had built just for the purpose of this game.

Alfred always explained the game, even though everyone knew how to play. “Each team has a flag and will hide it at eye level, but not in direct site. Each team needs to have an offense and a defense, and a spot they call jail.” he said, and he cleared his throat. “Switch offense and defense often. Those who are in offense will go and try to capture the other team’s flag and take it back to their side of the field. Those in defense, will capture those who try to take the flag and put them in jail.”

Jason sighed, “Alfred, we know-”

Alfred spoke over Jason, “HOWEVER, players of the team that has captured members, can retrieve their partners from the jail and take them back to their base. As always, protect your flags! The first team to retrieve a flag and get it to their home base, will receive this, trophy.” Alfred smiled as he held the gold trophy in his hand.

Each side had an equivalent number of trees, and you, Bruce, and Damian took off running towards your home base. Damian held the flag, “Okay, between these trees will be perfect. The bushes cover it, and its eye level, so technically we are not breaking any rules.”

You and Bruce looked over at each other, “Sounds good to me. Now, Damian and I will obviously be offense and you be defense.” Bruce said, and your hands went to your hips.

“Why am I always defense?” you asked, and Bruce and Damian stared at each other.

Last Year

You were placed in defense, and your team consisted of Tim and Dick. Jason, Bruce, and Damian were a team, and Damian happened to sneak past you. The sound of a twig snapping caught your attention, and you jumped into action.

Damian was standing next to your blue flag, and about to take off with it. But when his eyes met yours, he bolted, making you chase after him. You threw a few pinecones at Damian, but he dodged them all. He was quick on his feet for being so little, but you jumped, and tackled Damian to the ground.

“Come on Dami, give mom the flag!” you shouted as you tried to grab it out of his hands. Damian flailed like a fish, and shouted, “NEVER!” You started tickling him, until he dropped the flag.

Damian laid on the ground out of breath from laughing. You stood up, picked up your flag, and picked Damian off of the ground and took him back to your bases jail. “Don’t mess with momma.” you said before leaving Damian in the "jail".

End of Flashback

“I wasn’t that bad!” you exclaimed, and Bruce smiled.

“Mom, you were throwing pinecones at me! And you tackled me to the ground!” Damian said, and you gave them both a nervous smile. “Okay, that wasn’t my best motherly moment. But in my defense, I am competitive. I can’t help it.” you say as you ruffled Damian’s hair.

Bruce pressed a kiss to your lips. “That’s why I married you, honey. I like your competitiveness.”

“Okay, guys, we need to get going. Alfred just blew the whistle.” Damian took off running, leaving you and Bruce behind.

MEANWHILE....

“Jason, that’s cheating!” Tim exclaimed as Jason placed the flag on the ground behind a big rock. “It’s not cheating.” Jason said, as he turned to look at Tim.

“Alfred said, the flag must be eye level. So, having it lying on the ground is cheating.” Tim explained and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Tim, look down.” Jason said, and Tim looked down. “Can you see the flag?”

Tim nodded, and Jason clapped his hand to Tim’s back. “Okay then. It’s eye level.” Dick looked between Jason and the flag and smiled. “He’s got a point.”

Jason stood up on the rock, “I have decided I will be the defense, while you two be the offense. Damian will always try to be the first one to get the flag, and I want to be the one to put the spawn in jail.” he said as he hopped off the rock.

The boys heard the whistle blow, “Let’s go win us a trophy, now break!” Jason yelled, and Tim and Dick took off down the field.

...

You and Bruce had waited for Damian to return, but he never did. The sound of twigs and sticks snapping caught both yours and the Batman’s attention. Bruce held a finger to his lips and crept off through the trees. You waited patiently, and Bruce came back with Tim and Dick by the collars of their shirts.

“They thought they could sneak past the bat.” Bruce said, and he led them away to the place you guys picked as jail. "You did not just say that..." Dick said as Bruce tossed them both into jail.

When he came back, he smiled, “They made the mistake of sending out two scouts. I am going to check on Damian and I will be right back.”

You checked on Tim and Dick and they were lying on the ground. “Why would you send out two of your scouts?” you questioned, and they shrugged their shoulders. “It’s the last time we let Jason call the shots.” Dick mumbled, and Tim threw a rock.

Ruffling both of the boys’ hair, Tim spoke, “Well, at least it was dad who got to us. Mom would’ve tackled us both.”

“Or worse, she would’ve thrown pinecones at us, or landed us in the ER..” Dick shuddered, and you rolled your eyes. “Have fun in jail, boys.”

You ran back to your hiding spot. and Bruce came back with no sign of Damian. “He must be up in a tree strategizing. He’s not in jail, and he’s nowhere to be found.”

Both you and Bruce heard a sneeze, and you looked around frantically. Bruce pulled you behind a tree, and the two of you peeked out towards the left of the field. Jason, Dick, and Tim were all creeping around, and you turned to Bruce.

“It was a trap! This was Jason’s plan all along!” you whisper shouted, “That little shit....” you whispered, and Bruce chuckled. “It’s not funny, Bruce! If we lose this--”

Bruce placed a hand on your shoulder, "It's just a game of Capture the Flag honey, it's not that serious-"

You looked Bruce straight in the eyes, "If we lose this, I'm divorcing you."

Bruce sprang into action, and the two of you went after one of the boys one at a time. Jason was the hardest to catch; somehow, you were able to climb a tree, and once Jason walked underneath, you leaped down at him.

Jason let out a scream and hit the ground, “OUCH!” Jason cradled his arm, and pain raced up through your left leg. Bringing your leg to your chest, you held onto it, and Bruce, Tim, and Dick came running.

“What happened?” Bruce asked as he raced to your side.

“Mom jumped from the tree like a blood thirsty gremlin and tackled me to the ground. I think my arm is broken...” Jason said, and Bruce looked at you with an eyebrow raised.

“I think my leg is broken....” you said, and Bruce shook his head. He lifted you up off the ground, and Tim and Dick helped Jason off of the ground. “Another trip the ER. They might as well give us a room with our name on it.” Bruce mumbled.

-----

LATER THAT EVENING

Your leg had a cast, and you were on crutches. Jason had a broken arm, and you had a fractured leg. “Your competitiveness has gotten the better of you. Again.” Bruce said as he helped you into bed.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I thought you loved my competitiveness?” you questioned, and Bruce laughed. “I do, trust me I do. Sometimes I think you should have been a Navy Seal Operative.”

Alfred walked into the room and Dick trailed behind him with Damian in his arms. Damian had a red flag wrapped around his mouth, and duct tape around his wrists and ankles.

“Oh my gosh, who did this?” you say and you motioned for Dick to place your youngest son on the bed. You tried your best to untie him. One you took the flag out of his mouth Damian coughed.

“I was outside for three hours! Where were you guys?” he asked, and you looked down at your leg. Damian stared, “Woah. How’d that happen?” he asked, and your cheeks turned red.

Bruce sighed. “Your mom and Jason were the ones to get in a tussle this time around. But- what happened to you exactly?" Bruce asked and everyone turned their attention to youngest Wayne.

"It was Jason! I almost had their flag, and he jumped me from behind and tied me up!" then Damian started looking around the room. "Speaking of which... where is he?" Damian looked past Dick and seen Jason trying to creep out of the bedroom.

Before you and Bruce could grab Damian, he leaped off of the bed and hurled toward Jason. And a loud smack could be heard around the world and Jason's pained scream could also be heard in a thirty-mile radius.

"Don't mess with me!" Damian shouted as he bowed up at Jason. Alfred walked into the bedroom with the trophy in hand, "I assume that I get to keep this trophy?"

Bruce and you shared a glance at one another, "Because I have captured both flags." Alfred said as he smiled and waved both flags. That year, Alfred was the Wayne Summer Fun Victor.

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

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this x reader! This was meant to be posted in the summer, but oh well. I hope you all have a great weekend! Let me know your thoughts on this x reader in the comments!

XOXO

#bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x batmom #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #batmom #batfam #jason todd #dick grayson #damian wayne #tim drake #alfred pennyworth

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arabellasleopardcoat · 8 months

Text

A Thousand Words (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You want to marry him. He wants to fuck you. The two things are not as incompatible as they sound.

Requested: Yes! Predator/Prey with Daemon.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal unprotected sex. Animalistic sex? Sadistic Daemon. Toxic relationship. Mentions of breeding kink. PWP with baby plot.

You leaned down, examining a few bergamot flowers more closely. Asking for permission in a low voice, you cut three of them. They would be enough to soothe the children’s bee stings.

As you placed them in your basket, you heard a twig snap, followed by leaves crunching. You straightened up immediately, flowers forgotten by your feet. Your eyes glanced towards the tree line. There were no animals near you, apart from a few birds. Yet, the noise had been loud. As if the twig had snapped from something heavy stepping on it.

You knew these forests like the palm of your hand. You had grown up here, after all. There were no animals heavy enough to make such a noise around this area.

“Is someone there?” You asked, feeling a bit silly for doing so. Other than the chirping of birds and the soft murmur of a river near, you heard nothing. But if there was someone there with ill intent, they weren’t about to announce themselves.

Keeping your movements very slow, you picked up your basket and kept picking flowers. Despite always enjoying long treks in these woods, you were unable to concentrate on the beauty surrounding you. Uneasiness pooled in your stomach, all the hairs on your body standing up to attention. You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every few steps, you looked over your shoulder, but there was nothing there.

This outing was meant to be meditative for you, and you were clearly not reaching that goal. The pressure of being the Lady of your household sometimes got to you. When you were a woman, it was as if you had to do twice as much to prove yourself worthy. Nature had always been a respite for you, yet today, peace seemed to evade you. You felt too anxious, too nervous, to be able to tune in with yourself. The ambience had been ruined by the sound, triggering all your paranoia.

You decided to head back towards the castle. Since you were still uneasy, you decided to take a few confusing laps, just in case you were being followed. You walked towards the darker part of the forest, where the trees were older and taller, their branches overlapping and obscuring the view of the sky. To anyone who was unfamiliar with the place, the twists and turns you were taking would throw them off.

Unfortunately for you, whoever was after you was not unfamiliar with the place. Now that you were in the more isolated part of the forest, you could hear footsteps after you, even with your pulse beating loudly in your ears. With a muttered curse at your own idiocy, you hiked up your skirts and started to run.

It went badly. You tripped over a root, going down hard. The skin of your palms lifted, slowly starting to bleed. And someone pounced on you from behind. Hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against a solid chest.

“Have I startled you so much you forgot your way in your own lands?” You recognized the voice just as you were about to shriek. Daemon Targaryen and you didn’t have much in common. In fact, you were total opposites. While he preferred the noise of the city, you enjoyed the calm of the woods. He liked dornish red, while you much favored arbor gold. He liked bedding a new woman every night, you liked compromise. And, of course, how could you forget? Daemon liked chasing, and you liked running.

“My Prince!” You tried to sound scandalized. This game of yours was one of your favorites to play, and you guessed this was why the Rogue Prince kept coming back to you. He enjoyed the thrill of the chase too much to not give in to it. “You aren’t meant to be here.”

“I can’t stay away from you. You know that.”

“You should.” You frown at him, playing your part. Despite it, you cannot help the teasing tone that your words take next. “It’s not proper, for a Lady and a Prince to be alone together, so far from other people.”

Daemon doesn’t answer. Instead, he pulls you more into his body, your back flush to his chest. He starts to press lavish kisses to your nape and shoulders. You nearly moan. Nearly. Because you have a part to play.

“Don’t. No. We could get caught.” You mutter, urgently trying to get him off you. So far, getting him into your bed had proven a piece of cake. Getting him to come back to it, slightly harder. Getting him to offer you marriage, damn near impossible.

In the eyes of others, you were nothing more than friends. Not even courting, despite his constants visits to your household. It certainly got tongues rolling among the realm, but there was nothing official yet.

“Come on. Just let me have you.” Daemon bites down on your shoulder, softly. “You know you want to.”

“Out in a forest?” You laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s not ridiculous if we both want it.” He pushes your dress slightly lower, tracing nonsensical patterns on your back. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it, with how much you like the outdoors.”

“No.” You are lying through your teeth, and he knows it. Knows you. But it’s such a sweet game, that the two of you play. For you, it’s the high of getting to scream and bite and be as wild as you wish to, away from the stiffness of your everyday life. For him, you guess it is part of being a conqueror and getting to rough you up a little.

You are at a stalemate. You will never admit it to him, how much you enjoy this. Not only are you too proud, but you feel slightly embarrassed by it. There is a certain pride in being different, in not conforming to the role society has decided was yours to fill. Fate bends to your will, after all. You are someone who makes things happen, not someone that has things happen to her. Be it your own marriage plans, to commanding your household with an iron fist. Yet, you crave being made to feel helpless.

Daemon is not about to budge, either. When he thinks he is right about something, he is right about it and there is no room for arguing. His grip on your waist gets more restrictive. You stay like that, kneeling on the floor as he sits patiently behind you.

“What about a… Friendly wager?” Daemon kisses your earlobe as he speaks, softly. “If you win, you can leave. I won't bother you again.”

“And if you win?” You know already that Daemon is going to win. Not only is he competitive, but you don’t want him to leave you alone. Like, ever. You would marry him in a heartbeat, were he to ask. So if it is necessary, you will lose on purpose. It’s not the first time the two of you played like this. You have gotten talented at it. The key is in not making it too obvious, less you anger him. The male ego is such a fragile thing, and Daemon needs to be handled with care. He is as proud as you are.

“I get to take you. Here. As you are, in this forest.” He whispers, as he leaves behind soft, wet bites over your shoulders. Already, your blood is warming. You feel hot all over. Were it not madness, you would slip out of your cloak and dress and try to cool down.

You ponder on it for a few seconds, distracted by the feel of his mouth and the way his skilled fingers pull down your bodice. It’s a bad idea. A terrible one, in fact. But it does sound tantalizing. To be run down by Daemon, held down and fucked as if the two of you were nothing more than animals in heat is… Well, it’s certainly something. You don’t know if it’s the moon, or the way he seems to have a talent for convincing you of bad ideas, but you cannot help the way your cunt pulses when you think of it.

“Fine.” You say, in an annoyed tone. As if you are not as aroused as he is by the idea. “What do I have to do?”

Daemon’s breath hitches. You can hear it and feel it, pressed this close to him. He takes the tiniest intake of air, chest moving softly against your back, before stuttering a little.

Surprised. You know even without looking at him. Out of all the games the two of you play, this one has to be the one that has taken it further. It’s risky, and he probably offered it on a whim, knowing the odds were not in his favor. But you said yes. And that changes everything.

“Try to get out of the forest before I catch you.” His voice sounds dazed. It’s clear Daemon is still in disbelief. Yet, he is clearly eager to play because you can feel his hardness pressing into your lower back.

“I assume I will get a head start.” You tilted your head back and gave him a cheeky smile. The sort of smile that drove him mad. Daemon gave you a rare, soft smile, before kissing you. It was warm and demanding, forcing you to open up to him. When you parted, you were the one feeling nearly drunk on sensation. He was back in control.

“I’m feeling generous, so I will count to twenty before giving chase.” Daemon spoke, but the words didn’t really register in your mind. You blinked at him, slowly. Your brain had been turned into mush thanks to the amazing kiss. He smirked and spanked your arse. “Starting now. One.”

Jolted out of your trance, you stood abruptly. Your clock was running and you wanted so badly to complain you were not ready, but there was simply no time. Beside you, Daemon kept counting.

“Three… Four… Five…” Bewildered at the injustice of it all, you scowled. But Daemon's face remained smug, and so you had no choice. You stood up, wiping your palms on your dress, and ran off as fast as you could. You got a bit tangled in your skirts and had to stop to hike them up properly.

“Seven… Eight… Nine…” It was pronounced with a hint of laughter. Almost halfway. You wanted to scream, but you knew Daemon. He never played fair. Instead, you chose to duck behind some trees, so hopefully he would lose your trail.

You kept running, until you no longer heard his voice. The only noise you could hear now were your own agitated breaths and the soft sounds of the forest. If you were to make it out, you still had a long way to go.

Since you didn’t really want to make it out, and you were getting more agitated the more you ran, you stopped. Deciding to remain still until you heard his footsteps again, you sat down on the grass. But soon, you could hear the tell-tale sound branches make when being pulled apart, twigs and leaves crunching under a pair of boots.

It was not as long as you thought it would be, and so, you startled a little. There was a bit of panic gripping you, as well as excitement. You were pretty sure he would tackle you into the ground when he saw you, and you were not anticipating that pain. That this was happening made you feel small in all the right ways. As if you were no more than something to be conquered, to be caught, by a much bigger predator.

Crouching, you sprung out, your movements louder than you would have liked. You thought you had more time. This was not going how you expected it to go, not at all. You had barely calmed your breathing down when you were running again.

“Come here!” You heard him scream, and you resisted the urge to look over your shoulder and watch just how close he was. You sprinted, pushing your body harder. But your body was already tired from your earlier run, when you thought someone was following you. You were slower than usual.

“Come on. Give in.” Daemon’s voice sounded too close. He was not running after you, from what you could hear. Merely walking. Circling you, closer and closer, until he was ready to pounce on his prey.

The thought made you embarrassingly wet. Your thighs clenched, trying to get some friction on your cunt, but with how you were moving, it was nearly impossible.

“You boast a lot, my Prince. But I don’t see you doing anything.” You answer, cheekily. This time, you do turn around and look at him. His eyes are dark with hunger. It makes you feel small and powerless.

You remind yourself this is why Prince Daemon likes you so much. He loves how submissive you can be, how willing to play his game. You let your face show everything you are feeling, face contorted between arousal and fear, eyes darting restlessly searching for a way out.

Daemon walks calmly towards you. Instead of running, you remain rooted in place. It seems fear has frozen you. You let your skirts fall back down around your ankles, dropping all pretense to keep running.

He takes his time, circling you like a hound would do with a bunny. Waiting for the right time to sink his teeth and tear apart, until you are no more than exposed tendons and flesh.

“Now, now. Don’t look so fearful.” Daemon brushes your hair behind your ears. The touch is tender, a contrast to the sadistic glee shining in his eyes. It's clear the chase has been as exciting for him as it was for you. “I am a gracious winner. I won’t hurt you. Too much.” And with a dark grin, he is pulling your cloak open, tearing at the bodice of your dress, pushing you down. It all happens in a flurry of movement, too fast to follow where his hands are, too brutal to realize when it is that you end up on your knees.

Without needing to be told to, you go to your hands and knees. Daemon chuckles, pulling your skirts up and your undergarments out of the way.

“This was what you needed, wasn’t it?” You can feel his hand making its way between your thighs, checking your wetness. Your face heats up in shame when you hear the loud squelching noise his finger makes when entering you. Never have you been so aroused from looks and words alone. And Daemon can definitely tell.

You fix your eyes on the grass beneath you. You can hear how Daemon unbuckles his belt and shrugs off his pants. Then, you feel his weight on top of you, as he goes on his hands and knees too. His legs bracket yours as he forces you to lower your chest, pushing your face into the earth.

More shame and arousal twist on your belly. This is not how a lady should be treated, taken on her hands and knees, teats out and hanging out of her dress on a forest floor. Daemon is about to fuck you as if you were a common whore, and you can't help the gush of wetness that floods your center when you think of it.

“You did.” He gives an incredulous laugh, noticing how you are absolutely dripping. He rubs the tip of his member against your folds, coating himself on your slick. The feel of it against your hole, firm and scorching hotel, makes you squirm with the need to take him in. “You really did.”

“Stop teasing.” You complain, trying to move your hips and chase him. It's useless. The position Daemon has you in lets you do little but be smothered by him.

Suddenly, there is a pull in your hair, making you shriek. Your roots hurt, so you arch your neck, going with the movement his fisted hand is imposing.

“And who do you think you are, little girl? To order a Prince?” It's nasty and menacing, whispered in your ear as he forces your body to bow. “It must be so hard, acting so tough all the time. So collected, so proper. When, in reality, you just need someone to take you as the wanton whore you are.”

You can only gasp, seeing white stars reflected on your eyelids, the stinging pain of the pull heating your poor scalp and neck.

“I hunted you down. I brought you to your knees. I own you.” Daemon pushes forward in a single, punishing thrust. You scream, desperately scratching the grass for purchase. He is not very deep, but he feels huge, splitting you open in all the right ways. Often, when Daemon and you go to bed together, your foreplay is much longer. He is not as young as he used to be, or so he says. Despite it, Daemon finds ways to prolong your encounters even when his body doesn't cooperate. You are not used to taking him without preparation and it shows.

“I am in charge.” His voice comes out strained, through gritted teeth. He pulls at your hair, just for the sake of it. You feel sweat start to gather at your temples and lower back, both from the strain and how heated your blood feels. “Do you understand?”

“Yes.” You mutter, struggling to form a coherent thought thanks to the way he is fucking you.

“Louder.” Daemon snaps his hips against yours. His grip on your hair gets even more punishing. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand.” It comes out in a sob, as you try to hold on to the grass, the earth, anything. Your fingers hurt from clawing at the dirt, your face slowly getting squished against the grass. Despite how much you struggle to stay somewhat upright, you are no match for his strength.

“What was that, my Lady?” The smell of moss and sweat fills your nose, as Daemon presses you down in an even more brutal way. He kneads at one of your breasts, cruelly. “I didn’t catch it.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You scream, voice hoarse. Your words melt off into a litany of moans, punched out little noises that seem to come out from so deep in your chest that they are more like sobs.

He lets go of your hair, encouraging you to lift your hips instead.

“Raise your hips.” His hand rubs at your hipbones, demanding. You obey, too weak to fight him. This is the part you like the most when you play like this. The way your mind goes blank, and you can focus only on obeying him. “Good girl. What would your servants think if they saw you like this? Their lady, reduced to a breeding bitch.”

The demeaning words bring you out of your haze. He can’t… Surely, he wouldn’t. You won’t allow him to ruin your reputation, not like this. You try to get up and fight his grip, but Daemon lowers his hand and starts rubbing at your pearl until you are a trembling mess. The last thing in your mind is getting away from him.

“You take me so well, little girl.” He coaxes more and more pleasure out of your body, forcing it to rise to impossible heights. You feel like you are about to fall off the edge, stomach tensing, knees buckling until you are face down in the dirt. His hands on your hips are the only thing keeping you upright, as you scream and scream, whole world blooming into pleasure. “You were made for me.”

No matter how much your cunt flutters and twitches in pleasure, Daemon keeps fucking you. He doesn’t seem to care that you are overstimulated, that it’s too much. He chases his peak unashamedly, losing all inhibitions.

“I’ll fill you up with my seed. Put a bastard in your belly." The words are spoken in a frustrated tone, probably not even meant for your ears. "You won’t be able to keep running, then."

While you have insisted on previous encounters that Daemon pulls out, you find yourself curious about his words. Is he really going to spill inside you? Being one to avoid compromise so badly, you would not have expected Daemon to even think of doing so. Has your teasing driven him so mad he is unable to contain himself?

Never before have you felt so smug. You have him. Finally. The satisfaction is too much to bear, so you decide to reward him by clenching around his member.

The reaction is immediate. Daemon curses and his hips lose all rhythm. He muffles his scream on your shoulder, panting wildly.

You get to marry him not even a month later. After all, returning to your castle in a grass stained dress, with the Prince in similar conditions, is a picture that speaks for itself.

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cherubfae · 3 months

Note

Request: You know that scene from The Show must go on with Charlie and Vaggie singing the reprise of "More Than Anything" On the night before the battle with the angel exorcists? Well can you do that but with Husk and his s/o with the two talking about how much has happened but they’ll always stand by each other’s side even if they’re freaking terrified about the outcome of it all and saying the word “I love you” for the first time in the process

|| Is 'I Love You' Enough to Survive This? || Husk x reader

Combining these two together!! Here ya go! :3

tags: fluff, hurt/comfort, hazbin spoilers, fighting, violence, established relationship

a/n: the alastor fan in me tried my best to not skew this is Al's favor 😭😭 I'm so down bad for him

If this was the end, you needed to make it count. The Exterminators were coming any minute now and there's no telling just how long Alastor's shield would hold. The weight of your deal with the Radio Demon was heavy in the back of your mind.

"Let Husker go, take me instead! I'll do what you want, just set him free, please! I'll make a deal with you!" You hold your hand out towards the red demon, his wicked grin only deepening.

"Hey, babe, no! Don't, it's not worth it--" A burst of green magic fills the hallway, cutting off Husk's sentence; Alastor's hand is clasped in yours. The deal has been struck.

Alastor smirks, snapping his fingers. The glowing green collar and chain leaves Husk's throat and wraps around yours. A contract materializes before you, you do your best to drown out Husk's pleas as you sign your soul away to Alastor.

"Alastor, you twisted fucker! Let them out of this! They don't owe ya anything!" Husk snarls, fur fluffing up. Alastor clicks his tongue, lips curling into a smirk. Radio static seems to purr from the demon.

Unphased as always. "They made their choice, Husker. You're free. Enjoy it."

It wasn't long after that the Hotel was besieged by the angelic Exorcists. Alastor's shield shatters beneath the holy power of Adam and Lute; the war has begun. Let the extermination commence.

Bodies littered the front yard of the hotel. The surviving angels have retreated, carrying Adam's dead body with them. Sir Pentious had bravely sacrificed himself for his friends and Alastor retreated to lick his own wounds from facing Adam head-on.

You were standing in yours and Husk's shared bedroom. He wouldn't look at you. His shoulders dropped low, there is pain in his yellow eyes.

"I appreciate what you did for me, honey, but I wish you didn't. Alastor is not the kind of person ya want owning your soul, but at least he seems to like ya well enough. I'm thankful for that. Ya got moxie." Husk sighed, turning to fully face you now. "I was scared to lose you. Before I could even tell you that I love ya. I love you, darlin'."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

Your hands slip against his paws, smiling as you cup his furry cheeks. "I love you too, Husker." Nuzzling his nose softly, you share a slow, intimate kiss. "I've got a word or two to share with Alastor.. He may look like a fuckin' twig but he's strong. His downfall is that he's also on a leash. I'm gonna get you out of this, even if it's the last damned thing I do."

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #cherubfae 2024

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cardierreh15 · 4 months

Text

The Lady in Black

🖤☺️ eek

***i do not give anyone permission to repost or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Dub-Con , Cursing , Smut , Cheating , Use of Restraints , Tentacles??? , Choking , Violence , Blood & Gore , Oral (Male Receiving) Pain Play , Doggy Style , Facial Shot , Licking/Swallowing of Bodily Fluids (Blood & Semen)

Pairings: Kal-El x Black!Female Venom 🖤

Description: When the subject of time and space has been disrupted once more, Superman and Lady Venom, have their first interesting meeting.

Word Count: 4.2K

Song: Demons by Doja Cat , One of Your Girls by Troye Sivan 🖤

Side Note: I wanna thank @milknhonies , Tokio and my amazing husband for beta reading and helping me basically bring this idea to life 🖤 I truly adore you guys.

Clark studied the area that was garnished with the limbs of unfortunate victims. He came to the quick conclusion that no human could’ve done something like this. He folded his large arms across his chest as he gently descended to the dewey grass. His face curled up in a grimace as he pondered on his next move. He felt terrible that he wasn’t able to make it here to save them, but sometimes these things happen.

Brushing that guilt aside, he carefully examined the area once more. Being mindful with each step, he wouldn’t know how to explain to the chief of police why the ankles and wrists of these folks were flattened.

With the scent of iron and blood filling his senses, he was about ready to go. He wasn’t usually the type to have a weak stomach but with the lack of sleep he was receiving work and being Superman, anything would alter one’s brain chemistry.

Suddenly, a silver light twinkled into view. He’d approached it and lifted the blood stained metal out of the dirt. Running his thumb over the medallion to clear the face clean of blood and dirt, he read the words etched in it.

‘Life Foundation.’ It was unfamiliar to him so he flipped it over to read the contents on the back. ‘Stewart L. Mendoza. 0741670…’ Then he flipped it back over to study the etching once more.

His thick brows tugged into one as he tried to piece together some things but he just drew a blank. So, he just dropped the medallion and walked over to empty space where he’d landed. But before he could take off, he heard a burp.

Snapping his head over his shoulder, he waited patiently for the perpetrator to reveal themselves. But then, a twig snapped.

‘Show yourself!’ Clark exclaimed as he blinked once, activating his x-ray vision. But he failed to detect anything.

‘KAL-EL.’

A voice rang through the air, a feminine tone but was masked with something inhuman and unnatural.

Clark turned around swiftly to see the white eyes of a creature standing on a branch. The rest of her body was hidden within the shadows of the setting sun.

‘What have you done with these people?’

‘They attacked me, I fought back… some of them are finding a home within my digestive system and the rest of them are amongst you.’ She said before she let out a gleeful snicker.

The glare of disgust and disapproval was written all over his masculine features. ‘Come down here so we can talk about what happened further.’

‘Hmm.’ The creature purred as she carefully stepped forward into the golden sunset. She was covered in slick blackness from the top of her head to her toes. She had big white intimidating eyes, and a monstrous smile with more than enough teeth to make a statement and a slinky yet alluring tongue.

She was nothing like Clark had ever seen before and he had seen the most oddities of things. He allowed his eyes to study her once more.

She had a curvy frame; large breasts that would even spill over within his grasp. Her hips were delectable and wide that matched her thick, doughy thighs. They looked soft to the touch, but he wouldn’t be surprised if they were padded with muscles by how toned her legs were.

‘Oh I don’t think so…See, I heard you Kryptonians could be a little… entitled.’ She let out a litter of teasing giggles as she plopped down on the strong branch and began to look at her sharp claws.

‘What do you know of my people?!’ Kal hissed, his heat vision blinding his own view.

‘Oh please, put those away before you hurt yourself!’ She fell back, hanging herself upside down on the branch, ‘I was only teasing.’

Kal’s eyes slowly faded back to their regular cobalt blue before he let out a gentle sigh. ‘Could you tell me what happened?’

The woman looked over at him with a blank stare, ‘Why? You’re gonna hurt me?’

‘Unless you give me a reason to.’

She sneered, ‘Hurt me. Tehehe, you’re cute.’ She mewed out seductively. ‘But I’m afraid I ain’t too much like the other bad men you play around with.’

Heat in his cheeks bloomed before traveling to his neck where he grew a little warmer than before. The way she spoke to him, she had so much sas! Usually, Kal knew what to do in situations like this but it was obvious he’d never dealt with someone— something like this.

‘Alright.’ He swallowed his spit and placed one hand on his hip, ‘Can you tell me where you’re from? And who were these guys? What is Life Foundation?’

‘Ugh!’ The being had finally swung herself off of the tree and landed on her toes as if she were a cat. ‘You’re nosey too? Sheesh.’ She folded her arms, popping her hip out as she admired him from where he stood. He was such a fine specimen. Good enough to eat… good enough to fuck.

The Kryptonian grew impatient with her antics, ‘Answer me or I’ll just have to force it out of you!’ His voice darkened.

‘Awwww you promise?’ She clasped her claws together in a begging manner while a big dreadful grin curled up on her face.

Playtime was over and his patience had run out, ‘This is my final warning!’

‘Oh boy. Someone’s a lil ang-wy! Careful now Kryptonian, I don’t take nicely to threats.’

‘Perhaps it’s not a threat.’

She rolled her eyes, ‘OK enough!’ Hissing before she ran towards him, faster than the speed of light and head butted him so hard, he flew through the trees. ‘Sheesh, you’re cute but you just talk too damn much!’ She snarled, her long tongue grazing over her pretty white canine teeth.

Kal had crashed into a large oak tree, ‘UGH!’ He exclaimed before he’d collapsed to his knees and then to his hands. ‘Aah!’

She’d already made it to him, hiding high up in a tree like a Leopard ready to pounce on her prey.

‘When will you learn that there are things bigger than you, Kal-El? … Stronger than you?’

Her words echoed loudly in the woods. So damn haunting but he was so blinded by rage, they sounded muffled over the piercing ringing in his ears.

Without warning, Kal’s head snapped up and he released his heat vision, burning and cutting through all the branches and trees before him.

Returning to normal, his eyes began to scan the area for her before his anger got to him, ‘WHERE ARE YOU?!’

She’d slowly began to scale down the tree, quiet as a hungry lioness. This was as intense as a nature documentary. The very fine line between what made predators the top of the food chain, and what made prey so dangerous when trying to fight for their life. She knew who she was dealing with, and if she planned this wrong, he could snap her in half all the same.

Hell, it may teach her some manners.

Once she planted her feet on the ground, she kicked Kal on the back of his knee causing him to drop to the ground once again.

‘Ugh!’ He exclaimed, ‘I’m trying to take it easy on you.’ He whimpered, he looked up at her as she stood before him in all her villainy glory.

‘Are you?’ She grabbed his jaw in her claws and lifted him up off of his knees and slammed him against the tree. Long thick tentacles began to arise from her backside and began to slowly journey up his intricate body. She could feel him this way too. Every tentacle had it’s very own series of nerve endings. She could feel his muscles tense and cringe with each touch.

‘Mmph!’ He grunted out, turning his head away as her tongue began to explore the side of his cheek. Her touch, stranger and more foreign than anything he’s fought, made his skin crawl.

‘Oh what’s the matter baby?’ She cooed out, giving him a big toothy grin as her extra limbs wrapped around his thighs and arms, ‘Afraid of a little BDSM?’ She cackled as a final tentacle wrapped around his neck.

Kal did his best trying to tear away from these extra limbs but the inhuman strength they had on him had him questioning his own.

‘Who…are… you?!’ He gritted through his teeth.

‘I’m the best you’ve ever had!’ She said softly as her dainty claws draped from his jaw to his abdomen where she pressed her claw into his flesh.

Kal erupted a loud grunt as his head fell back against the tree. Tears brimmed his eyes for a second at the sudden pain of being stabbed. He hadn’t felt anything like that since… well you know.

‘The best villain. The best teacher… the best— lover.’ She moaned softly before her tongue thrashed once more on the side of his face, tasting his salty sweat.

She slowly pulled her finger out of his abdomen and placed his blood on her tongue. The taste of iron and sweetness danced on her tongue. It had awakened something more salacious inside of her.

‘Mm, and you taste good…let’s see.’ she purred out as she placed her hands on his hips and slowly began to descend to her knees. Her tongue licked at his wound once more, causing Kal to whimper at the tender pain.

‘What are you doing?’ He breathed out as his head hung forward.

‘I hear… you have a woman.. Kal-El.’

Kal jerked as hard as he could against the tentacles but they held him nice and tight, ‘You don’t know anything about me!’

She smirked, looking up at him as she slowly rose to her feet, ‘Oh but I do, my sweet— sweet boy. More than you can imagine.’ A claw scraped down his cheek, cutting his flesh once more as he shut his eyes and gritted his teeth together.

Another taste.

‘I know that… humans… aren’t built to satisfy you. Not like you want to be. I know that you’re also having trouble receiving pleasure because you can’t explore and fulfill your full… potential… ain’t that right, Clark Kent?’

Kal’s head popped up to look at her in her eyes. ‘How do you know that name?’ He gritted through his teeth.

‘I told you sweet pea… I know everything… just like I know—‘ she reached down between them and palmed the semi-hard on that was in his bottoms. He felt massive in her palm.

Kal shut his eyes in defeat as his head fell forward once again.

‘Oh, you don’t have to be ashamed sweetie… it’s natural.’ She cooed as she clawed at the hips of his suit. ‘Just allow me to help you finally conquer your wildest dreams.’ She allowed her tongue to explore him one more time. And this time he didn’t fight, he let out a low sigh as she gently tugged his bottoms down below his hips.

With his member standing at full attention, he was everything she thought he’d be. Veiny and girthy with the length of a well hung porn star and big heavy balls to match.

He was literally perfect.

She dropped to her knees as the symbiote revealed her brown busty breasts. Then, she opened her mouth nice and wide for him as her freakishly long tongue began to tease and caress at the tenderness of his manhood.

Kal’s knees instantly buckled as he watched her tongue flick and lick at his dick before she finally wrapped her warm lips around him and began to suck him off. As she did so, she fondled and toyed with her tits.

Muffled moans escaped his lips as she went to work on him as if she were tryna get paid for it. It felt so damn good but he couldn’t let her know she was doing a good job. Plus, he was cheating on Lois! Was this cheating? He didn’t really want this… did he?

Trembling and flexing thighs were doing just enough telling. But it only encouraged her to snatch his soul from within him. Reaching beneath him, she squeezed his balls gently in her palm as she forced him down her throat.

And my, were they heavy.

‘Oh! —please. Please. Uh!’ He begged as his head lulled back against the tree, eyes crossing inward as he’d seem to lose control of his body. ‘Mm— don’t..‘ he couldn’t even form the words! His mind was so damn jumbled up with a little bit of lust and something else he’s never felt before.

She pulled away, teasingly stroking his member as a thick string of saliva snapped between them. Bubbles and sticky saliva dribbled down her chin to the valley of her pretty brown tits. ‘That’s enough of that.’ She bounced up gently before grabbing his face, forcing him to bring those disgraced eyes to her face.

Her monstrous grill had peeled back and revealed some full, supple lips with pretty white teeth behind them. Lips that just seem so familiar to him. ‘If it’ll make you feel better… I can give you the human body parts… two sets of pretty, soft lips.’ She drug the tip of her tongue against his trembling lips, ‘I’m not gonna hurt you baby. I only wanna make you feel good.’ She said before embracing his cool lips in her warm wet ones.

She slithered her tongue between his teeth, as he finally opened his mouth a little more to let her explore and evade. They both fought for dominance in each other’s mouths. For once, Kal didn’t feel like he needed to take it slow or be careful. He finally felt… free.

When she’d broken the kiss, she turned her backside against him and pushed her hips back against his throbbing cock where she began grinding her ass against him.

Kal’s head fell forward, licking at his lips as he watched her voluptuous ass hug and grind against him desperately. His bright blue eyes dilated with drool falling free from his lips.

Suddenly, the symbiote began to slowly peel away down her spine, exposing her gorgeous tawny brown skin. As she bent over a little, the thick, black sticky flesh peeled back more, revealing her two cute little back dimples before showing off her ass that reminded him of two globes.

Kal began to pant like a thirsty hound, as he writhed a little beneath the symbiote’s grip. Not to get away this time but to fuel his desires and needs. He had never felt such a powerful feeling like this! It was like he was going into heat! It clouded his judgment; making it literally impossible for him to choose between good and bad. An animalistic trait.

Perhaps this was good for him. He needed this release.

But he wasn’t thinking about those he’d hurt in the process… Lois. Or maybe he just didn’t give a shit at that moment.

She’d pressed her backside against him further, feeling the familiar warmth of desire brewing within her womb. Her core of her womanhood became sticky with the thought of his cock stretching her out as she sought to make him fit in every crevice within.

Hymns of purrs and moans escaped her lips as her own teasing began to drive herself nuts. She looked back over her shoulder at Clark who was gone with sexual hunger. She licked at her fingers slowly before descending them down to her pussy.

So turned on by the way he looked at her, she began to rub at her erected numb, collecting some of her sticky nectar and rubbing it out once more.

‘Mmm, you ready to stretch me out?’

Kal tried pulling from the tentacles again, he was practically foaming at the mouth! He gave her a hard nod before he murmured out, ‘Y-yes.’

A licentious grin curled on her lips as she took ahold of his member and caressed that sweet spot where the tip and his shaft intersected. She gave it a gentle squeeze, feeling the stiff muscle throb with mercy in her soft palm.

Kal let out a silent curse, as he balled up his fists.

Standing on her tipping toes, she guided the tip of his cock towards her core before she pushed her hips up against him, forcibly sinking him into herself.

She let out a raspy cry as his member delved and nestled deep against her walls, invading and creating its home within her.

Kal let out an animalistic groan as the symbiote’s hold on him grew tighter as if it wanted them closer together. ‘Uhhhh!’ He moaned as his cheeks burned with a fervidus fever. ‘God!’

‘Nuh uh baby…’ She shuddered out, feeling the numbness from her toes creep and kneaded it’s way into her belly with shocks and tremors of pleasure tingling at her chocolate kisses nipples.

‘Just me.’ She added before she began to slowly throw her ass back against him.

It was at that moment where Kal had completely forgotten about everything and now his main focus was on her. No worries of the world. Not having to worry about his responsibilities as Superman. Not having to worry about simply breaking or killing her because she wasn’t human. He felt like he could truly release the hold that stricken him for the past 40 years.

He deserved this. Or that’s what he was telling himself.

As she and the symbiote worked as one; pushing and pulling her body against him, they both let out a series of moans. She was having a damn good time taking advantage. But Kal on the other hand was becoming too needy and desperate. He wanted to touch her.

‘Release…me…please.’ He begged through his moans, ‘I want… feel. Ugh fuck.’

She muddled and twisted her hips in an arrhythmic dance. And it was driving both of them insane.

‘Uhhh! Please!’ His bright eyes flashed open, looking down at her.

She peered back at him before carefully pulling her hips away. ‘You’re begging… I found you attractive before but now… baby you look so miserable.’ She giggled as she gave the tip of his cock a thump. ‘Sexy as fuck.’

Kal flinched at the addictive pain and moaned. ‘I promise…’ he huffed out, ‘I promise I’ll make it worth your while just… let me.’

She stared at him for a long moment, ‘I suppose.’ She said before waving her hand, ordering the symbiote to release him from the hold. It slowly unwrapped from around his thighs and legs, then his waist and then his arms. He’d collapsed to his hands and knees before her.

She turned around and got on her hands and knees; ass up in the air as she arched her back, like a sleepy feline.

Kal stood up on his knees, grinning with eyes as crazed like a mad man who had just struck gold. He’d placed his large warm hands against her thick thighs and gave them a desperate squeeze. Just as he’d thought, soft like marshmallows.

He pulled her back closer to him before taking a hold of his uncut cock and kissed her slit with the tip of it. She was so sticky, so creamy and messy. He adored it! He wasted no more time before he rammed it into her tight abyss once again.

‘Aaah!’ She moaned out in a harsh gasp.

He began to thrust his hips forward, slowly and teasingly only to get payback.

‘Stop. Being. Oof! A. Teeease and fuck me!’ She moaned out ruggedly.

The symbiote began to wrap itself around him once again. Around his throat and down below at the hilt of his balls.

At the sensitive touch, it only fueled his desires further. All he wanted to do was unleash his full potential and he was going to do that and so much more. So, he began to thrust his hips a little faster and a little harder.

Her wails and cries echoed throughout the woods along with their flesh just crashing into one another like a neutron star collision. There was so much force, so much power… they could terraform this area within the hour!

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck! Kal! Aah! Don’t fucking stop, yes!’ She moaned out as her claws dug within the moist soil beneath them. She could feel him beating down her walls at every angle.

His thumb pads were pressed firmly within her back dimples as he held on to her tightly. ‘Fuck this feels so good!’ His brows tugged into one as he relished in this newfound pleasure. If he ever said sex with Lois was mind blowing like this… boy he was wrong.

He’d just never had his taste at alien pussy before and he knew he couldn’t go back to humans after this. They merely weren’t enough to handle him. Hell, she barely could!

Desperate grunts and howls flowed from Kal’s chest in a string of melodies as he continued to dig his hips into her, pining closer and closer to his release.

That was until he lost his grasp and she tried to crawl away. Trying to take her dominance back. But he merely snatched her back towards him.

‘Where are you going?!’ His tone was dark and filled with bane.

‘Aah!’ She exclaimed as her body began to heat up. ‘KAL-EL! Have mercy!’ She whined out as she reached between her legs and kneaded at her clit.

There was no way she was really asking him for mercy… after her evil ways.

‘No!’ He barked as he pounded harder.

A sick, carnal groan rumbled in her chest as she blissfully took this punishment from him. Sultry and sexy giggles left her lips as they took each other on a wild trip of ecstasy. Fueling each other’s salacious and dark fantasies. Now this was her idea of fun.

After a while, Kal’s groaning had become even more constant with his thrusts becoming staggering with lack of rhythm. He was close.

She began to twerk her ass against him, completely taking over in the final moments. The symbiote began to tighten around his neck and balls, causing a smile of pleasure to curl on his lips.

‘Fuck!’ He cried out as his blue eyes began to roll back. ‘I’m— I’m gonna—‘ he stuttered.

Quickly shifting positions at his announcement, she turned around to face him and wrapped her luscious lips around his member and sucked him clean. She then pulled away allowing her tongue to flick and tease at his tip.

His hips jerked forward as he began to leak on her tongue. ‘Hooo.. that’s it baby.’ As he reached down to cup her jaw before she began to suck him off again.

She throated him one good time before pulling away and jerking him off. Letting out a loud, ‘FUCK!’ His body tensed up as he began to unload thick ropes of cum all over her face. ‘God—mmph!’ He whimpered out as his body trembled from the after shock of the intense orgasm. Tears brimmed at his eyes as he watched her long tongue wipe her face clean of his nut before swallowing all of it whole.

Amazing.

With her claws covered in his semen, she sucked and licked them clean too. He fell to his hands… defeated. There was no way Kal would be okay after this.

Standing to her feet, her symbiote began to close up and fill in the open parts of her, fully becoming whole again.

‘You did well.. son of Krypton.’

He looked up at her with wanderous, adoring eyes. ‘How do you know so much about me?’

‘A girl never tells…’ Then, she heard the sound of shouting and shuffling. ‘I must go.’ She turned around, walking away.

‘Wait!’ Kal exclaimed, reaching out towards her.

She turned halfway, ‘Yes?’

‘What is your name? Will I see you again?’

She walked back towards him and squat down before him. The symbiote began to peel away at her once more, revealing her face. And what Kal caused his heart to stop in his chest.

A woman, beautiful dark curly hair with eyes as brown as honey and thick dark lashes. With a smile that had enchanted him on many occasions. His coworker, Aya.

‘Well you see me all the time, silly.’ She shot him a wink and gave his cheek a pinch. Her voice sounded a little more familiar, but still layered with its voice.

Aya Lionheart. They worked closely together on a couple of projects at the Daily Planet.

Kal couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d always found her to be such an attractive and beautiful person. But he never thought he’d get to sleep with her…not this way— not ever…

And to find out that she was as different as he was. ‘Aya?’

‘In the flesh.’ She stood back up and looked over her shoulder as the men began to gain chase. ‘I’ve got to go… behave… Mr. Kent.’ And she leapt off of the ground and into the trees where she’d disappeared into the forest void.

He felt like his breath was snatched out of his lungs for a moment before he slowly stood to his feet. It was then when he’d realized that his suit was basically torn to shreds. Between her claws and the symbiote ripping at it, he was gonna have to call his mother. But not tonight. He was exhausted. She took it all from him.

‘Hey! Over there!’ Someone shouted.

Kal snapped his head up at the group of people who held weapons up at him. And instead of being diplomatic and trying to investigate, he fled the scene, flying back into the city.

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ladymunson · 2 years

Text

In My Dreams- Chapter One

Fic Summary: Your parents have an issue with you dating the town “freak” Eddie Munson, so they force you apart but you and Eddie can’t stop thinking about each other. You’re invading each others dreams so maybe it’s not just a “silly crush” like your parents think.

A/N: It’s finally here! Sorry it’s been so long. Okay this one is a little different to my other fics, I hope you enjoy it. Inspired by the song by Dokken.

Word count: 2631

Warnings: angst, lots of smut, very mean parents concerned with image, mentions of the supernatural, nightmares.

I do NOT give permission for my work to be copied, translated or posted to any other platform. Available on my ao3.

Support content creators by reblogging!

——

You sit in the secret spot, the one just for you and Eddie. Tears are streaming down your face as you think about the awful situation you’ve found yourself in. You’ve been dating Eddie Munson for eight months, most of it in secret but in the few weeks it’s been public knowledge, it’s been hell.

You don’t really care what other people think about you guys being together, you’re not exactly one of the popular crowd so it’s not been as bad as it could be. The problem has been mainly your parents, you think back to last night and the conversation that you’re about to have. Your heart breaking…

—

“You want me to what?!” You ask incredulously.

“You are going to break up with that boy!” Your father bellows.

“Why would I do that? I love him.” You reply, your head lowers.

“You’re too young to know what love is!” Your father says.

“How do you think that makes us look? Our daughter and that… freak!” Your mother screams.

“How it… Jesus! Do you think about anything but image mother?! You shouldn’t care what people think, I don’t!” You scream back.

“You will break it off with him, or we will cut you off and you will be no longer welcome here!” Your father says.

You let out a scream and run to your bedroom, diving on your bed and screaming into your pillow. You don’t know what you’re gonna do, you love Eddie with your entire heart but being homeless isn’t something you wanna deal with.

You’re not a religious person but in this moment, you pray for a solution. Will the universe be on your side?

—

You hear the sound of snapping twigs which brings you out of your memory and you look up, to see a mass of brown curls approaching. Then you see the goofy grin of your boyfriend Eddie Munson as he notices you sitting on the bench.

“There she is!” Eddie says with a smile, which fades as he sees the puffy redness of your eyes. He rushes over to you and puts his arm around you. “What’s wrong baby?” Eddie says which opens the floodgates completely, and you start sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s gonna be alright baby, whatever it is we’ll figure it out together.”

What you try to say is, ‘I can’t be with you anymore’ but what comes out is, “Eyyyt cloy blee fooo ba moooo!” Because you’re hysterically crying.

Eddie tries not to laugh at your cry talk and just says, “Deep breaths sweetheart, then try again.” You sniffle and take a couple of deep breaths.

“I c-can’t be with you anymore.”

Eddie’s face falls, you can actually see the moment his heart breaks. “What did I do?” His eyes glaze over with unshed tears. “I thought we were good.”

“I’m sorry.” You say with a sob and you get up, running through the trees and away. Leaving Eddie sitting at the bench, his tears beginning to flow.

—

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” Eddie is sitting on the couch in the trailer with Wayne, crying, his heart in a million pieces. “I love her and I thought she loved me. What am I meant to do Dad?”

Wayne’s heart swelled at hearing his nephew call him Dad but at the same time it hurt, he thought Eddie and y/n were such a good couple. She saw the real Eddie, not the façade he put on for everyone else. Wayne thought they’d go the distance, seems like he was wrong.

“Son, I can’t pretend that I understand what happened but I’m here for you no matter what.” Eddie sniffles and Wayne’s heart begins to ache, so he moves to sit next to Eddie. “Give her a day or two and then try talking to her, see what happened. You guys were solid, so something must have shaken her faith.”

Eddie throws his arms around Wayne and sobs into his shoulder, Wayne’s arms wrap around Eddie and he just holds him while he cries. “I don’t know if I can live without her.” Eddie confesses.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this, I promise.”

—

You’re sitting on your bed staring into space, your parents called you for dinner but you don’t want to see them. You can’t even tell if you’re hungry or not, you feel… numb. You don’t know if you’ll ever feel anything again.

The phone rings, startling you. You want to ignore it, want the world to disappear and just leave you and Eddie. But you broke his heart, and you don’t know if he’ll ever forgive you.

You hesitantly pick up the phone, “Hello?”

“Oh thank god!” Dustin’s voice comes through the speaker. “What the hell is going on y/n?”

“What are you talking about?”

Dustin sighs. “Eddie cancelled Hellfire tonight, for the first time ever. Something happened and I thought you’d know since you’re, you know, Eddie’s girlfriend.”

You try and hold back a sob. “No I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Eddie’s girlfriend.”

“Shit…!”

“I have to go.” You hang up the phone before Dustin can reply and burst into tears. Screaming and cursing as you bury your face in your pillow. You didn’t think you had anymore tears left to cry, but you manage to soak your pillow before exhaustion takes over and you fall asleep.

—

You look up at the blood red sky, lightning zig zagging across turning it vermillion. You’re all alone, standing in the middle of a field. A cold wind sweeps around your body, you pull the denim jacket you’re wearing tighter, trying to keep the chill away.

You turn yourself around to assess where you are, the field goes on endlessly in all directions except one. There’s a trailer, Eddie’s trailer. You think about heading out into the openness when you hear a blood curdling screech. In the distance you can see a figure, hunched over backwards as it lets out it’s battle cry.

The sound of the screech is suddenly drowned out by the unmistakable opening riff of Master of Puppets. You look over to the trailer and see Eddie, standing on the steps, guitar in hand as he shreds. You freeze, not knowing what to do.

“Sweetheart, get your ass over here!” He bellows over the wailing guitar. You waste no time running over to him, jumping all six steps and through the open door of his trailer. He runs in behind you and locks the door, you run into each others arms and share an embrace.

“What the hell is going on?!” You ask as you pull back, your entire body shaking.

“You tell me sweetheart, I have no idea.” Eddie replies as he pulls you into his arms again. He holds you, inhaling your scent, committing it to memory. “I woke up here!”

Just as you both pull back to share a kiss, you turn into smoke. Eddie screams, “No no no! Come back y/n!”

—

You sit bolt upright in bed, your heart pounding, covered in sweat. You try and calm your breathing, telling yourself. “It was just a dream. Everything is okay.” Then you remember, that it’s not. You no longer had Eddie. A sob escapes your lips as you clasp your hands over your mouth, the pain is so unbearable that your chest actually hurts. Your chest tightens again and you struggle to breathe, what have you done?

“Nooooo, come back y/n!” Eddie screams, waking Wayne who runs into Eddie’s room and shakes him awake. “Wha…?” Eddie blinks the sleep away and sits up and grabs a hold of Wayne. “I lost her again!” His arms are wrapped around Wayne so tight he almost cuts off the circulation.

“You were dreaming Kid, everything is okay.” Wayne tries to comfort Eddie but his nephews sobs let him know that it’s not.

“She’s gone dad… I lost her and I don’t know what I’m gonna do.” Eddie feels like he can’t breathe.

“Tell me what you dreamt son.” Wayne asks, rubbing soothing circles on Eddie’s back.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “I woke up in bed but things felt wrong, I looked out the window and the sky was red. I saw y/n standing in the open field outside and heard like a howling and had to make sure she was safe. Next thing I know I’m outside with my guitar and she’s diving in the door, we hugged and she turned to smoke in my arms.”

—

It’s impossible for you to fall back asleep, so you lay awake and plan how you’re going to get Eddie to forgive you and take you back. You don’t come out of your room while your parents are home, you wait until they’ve both left for work before emerging for your shower.

The hot water doesn’t stop you feeling terrible but it does make you feel fresher. Twenty minutes later you’re brushing out your wet hair before heading to the kitchen to pour yourself a cup of coffee. You watch the news but your mind is elsewhere.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy so you decide to head back into your bedroom and lay down. Eddie is the only thing on your mind as you descend into sleep.

—

Eddie tried to go back to sleep after his nightmare but he can’t manage to, he knows he’s going to be tired all day but sleep evades him.

He ended up leaving his room around 5am and sitting outside his trailer with his guitar, just strumming without any actual tune in mind. He loses track of the amount of time he spends outside playing but the Sun is high in the sky.

“Hey Eddie.” A voice says and he looks up, eyes all puffy due to lack of sleep.

“Hey Red.” Eddie says as he realises that it’s Max who has spoken to him.

“Are you okay? You look like shit.” Max says as she takes a seat on the steps beside him.

“Nope.” Eddie replies, laying down his guitar.

“Yeah Dustin told us, what happened? We all know that you love each other, why’d you break up?”

Eddie tries to hold it together but his resolve fails him and he pulls his knees to his chest, letting out a small sob as he replies. “I don’t know!”

Max puts her arm around Eddie as he cries. “Do you want me to talk to y/n? Find out what’s going on?” Exhaustion begins to take ahold of Eddie.

“I need to go to bed.” He sniffles. “You can talk to her if you want.”

Max nods and gives him a hug before jumping on her bike and pedalling out of the trailer park.

Eddie heads back inside and into his bedroom, flopping down on the bed and closing his eyes.

—

You’re sitting on a blanket, by Lover’s Lake. A picnic basket beside you. You’re wearing a yellow sundress, not your usual attire but it’s pretty. You look around and realise you’re alone. You open the basket to find sandwiches, chips, various fruits and two cans of soda.

The sound of rustling leaves makes you suddenly aware that you’re no longer alone. Your body stiffens, you turn your head slowly and see Eddie coming out of the trees to your left, a big grin on his face.

“Baby…” Eddie says as you get up and run towards him, arms instantly going around each other. You both pull back slightly to look in each others eyes, then your lips meet. The kiss is desperate, passionate and sloppy. Teeth and tongues clashing as you taste each other.

Eddie walks you back to the blanket, laying you down as his body covers yours. The kiss continuing, your hands on the back of his neck, his exploring your body.

“Need you Eds… I want you.” He grins and slides his hand up your dress, finding you bare and soaked. His fingers finding your bud and rubbing light circles around it, coaxing a moan from your lips. “Eddie…”

His hand fumbles with his belt and the button of his jeans, almost ripping them open. The moment his rock hard cock is released it’s buried to the hilt inside you. The stretch of his cock is amazing, exactly what you need. You’re so desperate for each other that there’s no waiting and no hesitation. Eddie brushes his lips on yours lightly, then moves his hips slowly.

Eddie groans as his cock slides in and out of your wetness, your lips meet again and the kiss is even more frenzied than before. The snap of his hips against yours eliciting moans from each of you. “You feel so good princess, squeezing me just right.” Eddie moans.

The feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your velvety walls edges you closer and closer to your peak. Eddie changes the angle slightly making you keen, driving in and out of you deliciously. You approach your climax, your hands at the nape of Eddie’s neck, playing with his baby hair.

Your orgasm hits you, hard. Your back arches off the blanket and you let out a slight scream. “That’s it baby, I feel it. I can’t hold back any more.” Eddie throws his head back as his climax hits. Growling with ferocity as he unleashes his seed inside you, marking you as his forever.

Eddie collapses on top of you, his breathing heavy. You stroke his back with one hand, the other playing with his hair. “I love you y/n. I always have and I always will.”

“I love you too Eds, I will until the end of time.” You reply. Eddie lifts his head and brushes his lips against yours. You kiss him back, it’s slow and passionate. Eddie looks you in the eye and smiles before he disappears before your very eyes.

—

You sit bolt upright in bed, tears in your eyes but you feel odd. It’s almost as if you’ve actually just made love with your (ex) boyfriend. You squirm and feel something between your legs, you pull back the blankets and see what looks like male cum mixed with your arousal.

What the hell?

—

The phone ringing wakes Eddie up, he curses whoever is on the phone as he had to leave that wonderful dream he had about you.

“What?!” Eddie huffs, not wanting to entertain whoever it is.

“Eddie? It’s Max, I’m with Steve and Robin. We’re heading over to see y/n when their shift is over. Do you need anything? I can grab you some yoohoo or something on my way back.”

The reality of the situation hits Eddie hard, he takes a deep breath. “No I’m good. I gotta go.” He doesn’t wait for Max to say anything before he’s hanging up the phone. And heads back to his bedroom.

He sighs and pulls back the covers, ready to change the sheets after that dream but finds the bed clean. He knows he came, he could feel it when he woke up. So where the hell is his stuff…?

End of part one

Hope you all enjoyed this so far. Please reblog if you did.

Taglist: @eddiesprincess86, @sweetpeapod, @nycbaby21, @grungegrrrl, @fuzzymelanie, @eddiemunsonlives, @punxunited01-blog

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