#all 4 piece in the series are done

[daeyumi]

✨👁️ [And was Echoed Below] 🩸✨

[Cycle of the Stars au]

#zelda #legend of zelda #zelda au #loz au #impa #au impa #zelda fanart #daeyumi art #cycle of the stars #cycle of the stars au #cycle of the stars impa #i’m finally finisheddddddd #all 4 piece in the series are done #i had the idea for these pieces last year so this has been way too long coming lol #i’ll make a post with all 4 pieces together soon bc they are rly meant to be a set

[flyingfluse]

AZIRAPHALE SONG

Did anyone ask me to write a song about Aziraphale? Nope. Did I feel the undying need to spend every free second of the last two months doing it anyway, loosing my sanity in the process? Absolutely. So here are the lyrics for Aziraphale Alone, a 8-9 minute classical music/musical inspired soliloquy of our favorite angel, diving into his brilliant and confused brain after the season 2 finale. Enjoy!

(note: I plan on posting a version that is less explicitly romantic, especially without a certain section in this song, for people who view their love as ace and don’t feel comfortable reading their ship in this light)

Aziraphale Alone

Heaven. Aziraphale is alone, lonely, exhausted. And a bit annoyed.

Endless white, so blank, so bright.

This place is unbearably dull.

No colours, no smells, no ringing bell

As the door opens to the shop of Mr. Fell.

No vintage wine, no books, no Sondheim!

No trace of humour or wits.

No Sundays in Parks, no clever remarks

And no dinners at the Ritz.

Aziraphale fondly remembers his time on earth with a certain someone.

At night my heart's turned into rivers of ink,

When there was magic in the air.

And in the blink of an eye I would sink

Into the depths of a warm yellow glare

Building a home, fragile yet quaint

With a good fortune to share

A place with the pleasure of no self-restraint

Where stars are made in the most fervid of flares.

Our timeless dance is enchanting the shop

No miracle could compare.

(reluctant) Then the music stopped. The curtain dropped.

(woeful) And no nightingale sang in Berkeley -.

(Composing himself) You and I have spent millennia working on opposite sites.

And truly I as a dutiful angel was meant to resent and despise

The foul fiend demon Crowley supposedly one of the worst of his kind,

But the meanest, most hurtful deed you ever did was uttering those lines.

Music picks ups speed. Choir joins in as well as the full orchestra.

(getting more and more irritated) How could you dare to simply declare

the absence of our song?

When I was right there, one half of the pair,

of the us you claimed you long to be!

But apparently so

there's so much I don't know!

As if I hadn't learnt a thing

seeing how they burnt your wings,

casting you down below!

I may seem naive, but there's one thing I now understand

That we can't achieve peace, when our castle is made of sand.

Our lovely reprieve has finally come to an end!

For there will be another storm we can't take cover from.

We must act now there's no time for laments!

And there was a solution how we could reduce any

risk of losing what matters most,

So then how could you choose to leave me and refuse

the chance we could have used to finally depose

The faulty regime, heaven's design

is flawed, I know, I am not blind!

That's why we need to find a way to make it right

For heaven's the root of truth, goodness in light.

Still certainly better than the other side!

There may be exemptions to the rule,

But hell is still callous cold and cruel

With torment and torture as daily routines.

Do you think I haven't seen

How you have suffered all these years?

How you have struggled to fight the fear,

That's lingering in your eyes, when you try to hide

your kindness behind a shady guise.

You say you're not nice, a demon who's wily

Wicked, vicious, who always lies.

You can fool everyone and yourself,

But I know your goodness far too well.

Your heart and decency break quietly, secretly

straight through the ceiling of what is allowed!

You act when something‘s wrong, knowing you could be gone

right when the graveyard yawns and hell breathes out.

(Softly) Can you blame me for wanting to see

You smile like you did back then,

When stars filled your eyes with wonder and glee.

I just want you to be that happy again.

You‘ve grown so gloomy, weary and tired.

So I tried to bring you the sun,

(hurt) But you‘ve clarified that‘s not what you desire.

I don‘t even know why I’m stunned,

I guess I was the silly one.

He remembers what followed after their argument.

But then you pulled me in, caught me by surprise,

Warning sirens were howling above.

But shock and confusion would quickly subside.

One glorious moment it all wore off.

One ardent touch and the world fell away

And with it the looming and intricate veil

Of pretence, apprehension, prejudice and pride,

I get lost in indulgence that we’ve been denied.

My hands wander up as my thoughts wander down.

The taste of your tempting lips lets me drown

Deep in your divine, deserving embrace,

Your sweet velvet wine, I could drink it for days.

A ravenous craving I’ve tried to control

To selfishly savour your body and soul.

The music crescendos, getting faster and faster.

Oh how I wish we could just run

Away and paint our own shade of grey.

A fervent mix of blue and red,

Two parts of a painting that finally connect.

You take the wheel, full speed ahead,

Home, to a place where we will forget

The watchful eyes and silent threats

and at last-

Stop!

You‘re going too fast.

(Broken)

Endless white, it shines so brightly through the open blinds.

I shakily stand on this earth we were send to and

can't understand just what I should do.

These quarrelsome queries that I've grown so wary of

haunting my mind like ghosts in a tomb.

How to follow my heart with the song of the lark

bringing back bitter sweetness I‘ve tried to discard?

I just try to be good.

I need to be good.

Why is that so incredibly hard?

And maybe I’m where the problem lies, a

pathetic excuse for an angel for sure,

Destined to fail, disloyal, a liar,

Too soft, too scared and too insecure.

(Overcome with love) But you‘ve made a change, you helped me see

That I am worth the effort of

Risking paperwork to save me from quandaries,

That me being there is more than enough.

You‘re so much kinder than everyone else,

So how come that you are the one who fell?

Even though I have been also defying them,

so terrified of losing her love.

Can’t tell, what’s right or wrong, now that you're truly gone,

how can I move along in the above?

Still, my faith in god stand, I know she’s got a plan

So ineffable even to those who attempt

To end life here on earth, erase progress and mirth

It just can’t be true that all this was meant to be!

(He stops. Shocked. Scared.)

(slowly) Asking questions that’s how it starts,

First the fall, then falling apart.

Can it be that it’s hell I am running towards?

But maybe just maybe her divine intent

has always been for me to thwart!

(With growing conviction) God can’t be where the problem lies,

But there’s a blaze scorching the management board.

It’s said that you must fight fire with fire,

And I was the one given the flaming sword!

I can’t just turn my back and run,

I’ll get that book, take out my gun,

Won’t shoot past the ear, but aim for the head,

a moral argument they won’t forget!

I will make a change. I will make them see

We don’t need more floods but simply a dove!

Don’t they know heaven’s supposed to be

A place of kindness and love?

And you, my dear, left me no choice

But to walk this path alone

Like water off ducks, this picture of us,

Slid right through my fingers, turning to dust.

I left my home, lost all I loved

Though one thing I couldn‘t stand

Even if nothing lasts forever

I cannot lose my best friend!

You’ve rescued me so many times,

all part of our little dance.

And now that the music has picked up its pace

it’s my turn to take a stance!

I get it now! You won‘t come back,

but I won’t wait till they attack!

Got some things to suggest,

This time I won‘t stand still!

I’m a guardian angel and protect this world I will!

(Quieter, gentler, but with equal resolve)

Protect my world, I will.

#I originally planned a 4 minute piece #but anything less than what I’ve written felt like it wouldn’t have done justice to Mr. “Let-me-start-at-the-VERY-beginning” #I will eventually make a recording #but this will most likely include a full blown orchestra and choir and I don’t have the time for all that atm #I just couldn’t resist sharing it any longer #this series has taken over my life #thank you Neil Gaiman and Michael Sheen for inspiring me to write this #good omens #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziraphale #the final fifteen #do it again #good omens meta #character song #good omens song #good omens poem #good omens art #good omens music

[fudgecake-charlie]

sorry for the lack of art! I’ve been really feeling it and I don’t really have the energy to get on my laptop too much and draw. please take this silly grian laughing his ass off as an apology [+ rambles in the og tags whoops]

#I also haven't been consuming a lot of hermit content and haven't touched any e!hc videos #I still love them all so much #hermitcraft #grian #whatever is going on with false sounds like it goes insanely hard though #AND! I'm quite interested in the new create mod series it sounds like a load of fun #art out the oven #hopefully I can do a larger scale piece some day #everything I've done so far has been in the 2-4 hour range + doodles; which is nice! but I wanna paint again </3 #uni has been great and also taxing as fuck #but at least I had this week as a break week! [ignoring the fact I had to stay up until 5on Wednesday to do an assignment] /lh/lh/lh #anyway hopefully I get to see y'all soon with more art!!!

[soulsxng]

Really random, but sometimes I get hardcore sucked back into the Royal Scandal series. The vibes and the stories are just A+, and so many muses get so noisy.

The only issue with that is the muses being really noisy doesn't lend itself very well to headcanons and stuff, so I'm sitting here trying to answer these Corruption questions for Creation, and the muses are in the back of my head. Doing concerning things. Being generally distracting.

Edit: Just realized that link only includes the main episode songs in their release order...which isn't the chronological order for the series. It's on the same channel if anyone wants to see the rest of the songs!

#[what is she getting us into now? -ooc-] #There's one piece of lore in the series about four kingdoms and one artifact per kingdom #each one grants something but...from what the lore suggests so far takes away something via a curse if they're misused? #or that the curses only happened when the original owners of the artifacts misused them? #but anyway #one grants power but takes away love #one grants love but takes away happiness #one grants happiness but takes away riches #and the last one grants riches but takes away power #and that's one part that my mind likes to latch onto like a squeak toy idk #I've always sort of wanted to do something to that effect with the original 4 species in Brinnela #or with the 4 realms that came after #those being Pirodet Irekol Sumydah and Wilacri or Celaeon; me and Kei have been going back and forth on which of the last two is older #It would probably be the second group tbh because they already all sort of have one that they would fit into #I DIGRESS #this post was just supposed to be to say that I'm heavily distracted and don't know how much I'm gonna get done tonight #and look at it now #a wholeass rabbit hole was gone down

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

#cod mw2 fic #captain john price #gaz call of duty #soap call of duty #ghost call of duty #captain price #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #John price #simon riley x gn reader #simon riley angst #ghost x gn reader #ghost x you #ghost angst #ghost x reader #ghost cod #141!reader #141 x reader #task force 141

[mokulule]

A Pinch of Salt - Part 4

First | Masterpost

The final part of the first installment of the Salt in the Bones series which is a project co-created with @clockwayswrites, you can see the other stuff written for it in the masterpost link above or go to the first part.

-

John looked at the kid, who just stepped inside the fucking binding circle. His mouth fell open in shock.

“What is wrong with you!?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was an exclamation, and John didn’t wait for any answer. “Of all the sodding, daft, goddamn tossers - what were you bloody thinking? No, you weren’t thinking. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fucking done that. You DO NOT go into the blasted circle!”

“Are you done?”

“Am I-“ John spluttered.

Are you done? He asked, as if John was the unreasonable one here! “Oh you’re right chuffed, aren’t you mate? Well, you cocked up, you’re about to be banished right alongside the storm, you little git!”

“Then stop the banishing or banish us both. It’s your choice.” Kid stood, back straight, jaw clenched stubbornly and a frown over those wide blue eyes. His hair and clothes whipped violently from the storm, but he didn’t care, just kept his eyes on John.

John raised his hands in frustration, words dying on his tongue. It would serve him right!

It would serve him right; he stepped into the bloody circle. It wasn’t John’s fault. Everything was going fine for once and maybe that should have been John’s warning. Whatever was up with the kid he apparently had a soft spot for ghosts - even after John had told him several times that the spirit was gone. It’d gone nova. No coming back. The end. It would continue it’s rampage until it burned out. It would hurt and destroy indiscriminately.

And yet he still-

It would serve him right to get sent to Hell alongside it. It wouldn’t even be the first time someone John worked with got sent to Hell for their trouble. John Constantine was bad luck for everyone around him. It happened.

But it was different when John held the reins of the spell that did it, when he had the choice to stop it.

Still John was at his wits end. If he stopped the banishing, the kid was still trapped in the circle with the spectral storm. If he broke the circle they were back at square one except they were in the center of the storm’s power and it was even angrier.

It was easier, safer, to just continue the banishing. Kid had made his stupid arse decision. John wasn’t a good person. He did what was necessary. Ends and means and all that.

But he was a bloody kid - a teenager - they were basically obligated to do stupid shit. Didn’t mean he deserved to get sent to Hell for it. John had seen and done a lot of shit, but when it came right down to it he didn’t want to add sending a kid to Hell.

John had seen enough dead kids to last him a lifetime.

“Oh bollocks.” John let his arms fall and cut the feed to the banishing spell, wincing slightly at the backlash. “You better have a plan kid.”

The kid had to have some sort of abilities with that aura, maybe all hope was not lost? The kid grimaced and John’s forced optimism crumbled like so much sand.

“I-“ the kid winced as something in the storm hit the back of his head. He rubbed the spot, and looked almost apologetic, “I figured I’d try talking to them.”

John stared.

And stared.

“Or-“ the kid backtracked, “just calm them down somehow?”

“You cannot ‘calm down’ a spectral storm!” John felt like a broken record on repeat. “It’s impossible.”

He threw up his hands and walked exactly three steps away counting his breaths all the while wracking his brain for a different solution. There weren’t any good ones. Heck it was a miracle the kid hadn’t already been torn to pieces being inside the circle.

“We’re dead,” he lamented dramatically.

“Half-dead.”

John’s head snapped around at the weird response.

“I mean,” the kid tried for a smile, “I’m the only one in the circle.”

John stared in despair. The kid’s sense of humor needed serious work.

“I’m not gonna leave you in the bloody circle, kid.”

Danny stood struck wide eyed at the admission. That was- He didn’t know how to deal with that. There was a pang in his chest. He felt too open, too vulnerable. He swallowed before finding his voice.

“Just let me try something, okay?”

Danny turned around to face the center of the storm, he instantly had to squeeze his eyes near shut, from all the dust. Instinctively he took a breath and coughed. Okay breathing not good. Too bad he was human right now.

He had to get closer, closer to that screaming grief. He might be human right now, but he was also a ghost and the anger from earlier was just a thin veneer on top of grief on top of a cry for help. He felt it in his core like scrabbling hands desperately looking for purchase.

He took a step forward, hands up to shield his face, pushing against the wind. Another step. Then another.

How was he gonna calm them down?

Danny didn’t know. He knew fighting. He’d even sometimes recently had luck with talking. But this? It was way beyond talking, until they were calm there would be no such thing. Danny didn’t know what to do. He could only press on and hope an idea came to him.

The grief was stronger the closer he got to the center, it tore into him. Tears trickled down his cheeks and turned into gunk from the dust. Something sharp cut into his bare arms. Danny frowned, kept his head down and pushed forward.

Another step and the grief sunk sharp claws into his core. He screamed clutching his chest and gasping for breath that would do nothing. But the claws were gone as soon as they’d come, retreated as if they’d touched fire.

“Are you alright kid?!”

Danny spared a quick glance back to Trenchcoat who stood all the way up to the edge of the circle, face white as if he’d seen a ghost. Danny couldn’t help smiling at that. Something that alarmed Trenchcoat even further.

“I’m breaking the circle.”

“Don’t,” Danny coughed clearing his throat.

Danny looked back up, squinting through the swirling dust. It may not be visible, but something had changed. There was still the anger and grief, but something else too. A sense of waiting. Waiting to see what Danny would do. They had tried tearing him, the trespasser, apart down to his core, but in doing so they had felt him. They had felt his intention to help and retreated.

Trenchcoat was wrong, there was still a sentience there. Danny found himself grinning in triumph.

But even better Danny had an idea. His core vibrated giddily in his chest. He was a bit sore, but otherwise none the worse for wear. He just needed to reach out and connect with the ghost, he felt sure he could calm them. He just he needed a distraction, he didn’t need Trenchcoat to realize he was the one doing anything ghostly. He wracked his brain, something that made noise, drew attention, was maybe a bit ridiculous, but didn’t take much of his attention from the real work-

That was it!

“Twinkle-“ his voice broke on the first word but gained strength as he continued- “twinkle little star,” Danny sang. He didn’t need to look back to see the incredulous look on Trenchcoat’s face.

He kept singing, he knew that song by heart. His mom used to sing it to him, back when she actually put him to bed. There was a stab of melancholy, but Danny clutched on to the positive aspect of the memory and reached out with his core, its hum getting stronger.

It’s okay, he told the ghost, help. Safe. Peace. Calm.

He took step by step further into the calming storm. And all the while he sung them a lullaby.

John stared.

Then he stared some more. He was doing a lot of staring today.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he was hearing.

The kid was was singing a lullaby to the spectral storm. And that wasn’t even the most baffling thing. No, the kid was singing a lullaby to the spectral storm and it was bloody working.

The storm gradually calmed until suddenly it was gone. The silence was loud in the sudden emotional void. John staggered from the sudden lack of pressure. All that malice gone in an instant. All that was left was a gently cupped ball of light in the kids hands.

“There you are,” the kid said softly in a slightly scratchy voice.

John couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. It was impossible and yet here they were.

There was a flash of light and suddenly they stood in a house. Built brick by brick by two pairs of hands. Children ran through the rooms. They grew up. They had kids of their own, who had kids of their own. They lived and they loved and they were protected.

Then they were gone.

The door shut for the last time. The house was empty.

A large metal ball slammed through the walls, spreading dust and splintering the doorframe that had measured the growth of generations. It was torn down.

It had stood here, right in what would be the plaza.

The translucent shade of an old women, bent and bony from a life of hard work, hovered in front of the kid. She warbled sadly at him. John couldn’t understand anything but the deep sadness, but it seemed the kid did.

“It’s okay,” he said embracing the spirit, somehow managing to do so despite her definitely not being solid. “You’ve done your best, nobody could ask more of you.”

He paused and his voice softened further, “it’s time to let go.”

The old lady looked over at John and gave him a stern look that had him frozen in place. She was the type of grandma that would wack his fingers if she caught him going for the cookie jar. He wasn’t entirely sure what the look he got meant. Only that it felt like an admonishment.

She looked back on the kid and her features softened, smoothed and in the next moment she turned to mist in his arms, dispersing in the waning light coming from the overhead windows.

John couldn’t entirely believe what he’d just witnessed. Calling a spirit back once they’d gone nova, it was impossible. Unheard of. Banishment was how you dealt with spirits like that. It was a tried and tested method. Yet-

John shivered.

Death magic. It was the only explanation.

The kid reeked of it, to the point John had thought he was the ghost he was here to deal with. He’d thought he was some kind of creature, but he was just a kid. A kid with a very specific magical affinity who’d just done the impossible. He was filled with a sense of awe and dread he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

He felt shaken. Like he’d stood right next to a bell who’d been rung to herald change.

John was no prophet, at most he’d get vague premonitions and he far preferred to be in the moment rather then dwell on the future or the past. He most definitely did not want to even contemplate this kid’s future. He swallowed.

Magic, in John’s experience, always came with a cost.

The kid promptly sat down on his butt. John had broken the circle and was running over before he even realized.

“You okay, kid?” He asked breathlessly.

The kid looked up, eyes a bit dazed as he blinked at John. John couldn’t really tell if his complexion was grey or it was just the dust covering every inch of him. Several places, particularly his hands, the dust was dark from blood where he’d been cut in the storm. He looked unfocused.

“How many occult detectives are you seeing?” He asked unable to hide the note of worry.

“Too many,” Kid said tiredly with a shake of his head that had cement dust falling all over. Then he looked back up and elaborated with a smirk, “one.”

John huffed a laugh. If he could joke he couldn’t be that bad off.

“How does burgers and fries sound?”

-

The kid now dusted off to the point where you could almost tell his hair was black rather than grey sunk his teeth into the burger with a pleased hum. He chewed and swallowed.

“This is almost as good as Nasty Burger.”

John paused fry halfway to his mouth. “That sounds disgusting.”

Kid laughed. “I forget how it sounds to outsiders. It used to be Tasty Burger way back when they first opened, but someone vandalized the sign and it kinda stuck.”

John hummed thoughtfully, he could appreciate the joke. Kid’s use of the phrase outsiders made it sound like he came from an insular town. Probably best for him if he stayed there.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Instantly the blue eyes narrowed on him in suspicion.

“What’s yours, Trenchcoat?” He challenged.

John huffed at the nickname and reached a hand across the table. “John Constantine.”

The kid looked suspiciously at the offered hand, then reached out and took it. “Nightingale.”

John nodded and shook his hand before letting go. Smart of him to give him a codename, he wasn’t apparently completely without sense. “Because of the singing.”

For a moment the kid looked confused to the point where John actually thought maybe he’d given him his real name.

“Singing? Ah-“ He blushed looking down and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “No, that just seemed like a good idea at the time.”

John shook his head, fuck it if he didn’t like the kid. He picked up his milkshake and raised it. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“If it works…”

The kid, Nightingale, grinned ferally and raised his own shake to clink it against John’s.

��If it works.”

-

After filling up the near bottomless stomach of the teenager, they parted ways in an alley. John’s mind was already on his next case - people going missing in a forest in Germany that had a distinct this-is-not-just-a-GPS-dead-zone flavor to it - so he only absently noted the strange look on the kid’s face when he opened the portal. It was morning in Germany, he could start looking into things before calling the House for a proper sleep.

“Take care, kid.”

With those words he stepped into the portal and let it close behind him.

Danny was left looking at the portal. He shook his head, jaw tight. With real magic apparently portals were just easy. It didn’t do him any good to think about. He glanced around and when he found the alley just as empty as before he jumped into the air transforming as he went.

There were better things to think about, like the concept of an occult detective, he thought as he flew in the direction of Amity. It sounded like it could almost be an acceptable profession in his parents’ eyes.

And it probably didn’t require good high school grades either, he thought with a grimace as he remembered he had an essay due tomorrow.

-

Hope you enjoyed this story which explored how Danny and Constantine first met in this AU. Next step is letting it sit for a while, then do a thorough editing and putting it up on ao3 as a oneshot. (And then maybe talk to Clock about starting writing on the main story proper? We'll see). Comments are greatly appreciated :D

Another link to the masterpost if you wanna see the other bits of writing and/or subscribe to the series

#a pinch of salt #salt in the bones #danny and constantine #dysfunctional found family FTW #dp x dc

[xxbimbobunnyxx]

White Rabbit

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Summary: Rafe goes to Barry for help with his “pouge problem” but he gets more help than he bargained for when he meets Barry’s cousin in the most unsuspecting way. He can’t stay away from her, despite Barry’s protests, especially when she’s just as unhinged as he is. Takes place during season 2 episode 4 “Homecoming”. Wk: 6.9k.(oops)

Warnings: Gun violence(reader shoots a guy but doesn’t kill him), cocaine use(both reader and rafe), Barry is not super stoked about R and Rafe being into each other, unprotected sex, oral (m & f), choking, hair pulling, face fucking, Dom!Rafe, Sub!Reader, unhinged reader, spit kink, digration, daddy kink, a lil spanking, biting, Rafe & R are obsessed with each other, R has the nickname “bunny” & is implied to be alternative, her outfit is described but other than that no physical descriptions. Lmk if I missed any please! 18+MNDI!!

A/N: This is my first time ever writing for Rafe, so it might not be the best ever but I fell for this man so hard and I just needed to write him with an unhinged girl. Shout out to my girl @babygorewhore for not only beta reading but hyping me up/brainstorming with me through this entire fic. I might make this into a series of some sort. Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!✨🖤

Rafe slammed his truck door shut as he walked up to Barry’s porch, scoffing when he saw him sitting there with his feet propped up while he read a book.

“Hey, you got my shit?”

“Shit, you’re early.” Barry closes his book and sets it down on the table in front of him, a condescending smirk spreading across his lips.

“Do you have my shit or not, man?” Rafe groans as he plops his large body down onto the rundown cushion of one of the porch chairs.

“Yeah, I got yo shit.” Barry chuckles, pulling the baggy from his pocket and tossing it on the table. “You got my money?”

“Yeah.” Rafe pulls a wad of cash from his pocket and slaps it into his hand before grabbing the baggy so he can make himself line. He snorts it, letting out a deep breath after. “I need a piece too.”

“Hooohoooo!! You need a piece? Country Club Killer now, huh?” Barry laughs, his hand coming down to slap his knee.

“Don’t!!” Rafe slams his hand on the table. “Mess with me right now.”

“Aight, what the hell you need a piece for?”

“John B is fucking back.”

“John B is fucking dead dude.”

“Nah man, I saw him for myself in the Bahamas, and just now Top saw him in town with my sister scoring beer.”

“FUCK!!!!” Barry kicks the table, sending it flying a few feet away. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin me? I’m done playing with these kids bruh.”

Barry kicks himself up from his seat, walking over to a locker on the side of the porch. He enters the combination before he pulls out a gun and starts to load it.

“You wanna be done with those little shits once and for all? You’re gonna need a lot more than just a piece. You gotta start going at this shit like a soldier.” He spins the barrel, clicking it into place before handing the gun to Rafe.

“You do this, you know I’ll take care of you, alright? You won’t be doing this shit for nothing man I’ll -“

“YOU THINK I’M SCARED OF YOU, YOU LITTLE BITCH?” A male voice came booming from behind the house.

“IF YOU AREN’T NOW, YOU FUCKING WILL BE!” Another voice followed, but this one was unmistakably female.

“Dude, what the fuck was that? Is that chick okay? Should you like - I don’t know - deal with that or some shit?” Rafe’s blue eyes scan the other man’s face for signs of distress but it was almost like if he hadn’t mentioned it, he wouldn’t have even noticed.

“Nah bro, that’s my cousin. She’s got it, stop trippin. We doin’ this or not?”

There’s a loud crash and then he hears the girl's voice again.

“I TOLD YOU TO GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!!!”

“Dude I’m gonna go check it out, that doesn’t sound good.” Rafe isn’t sure why he really gives a shit if this random chick who he hasn’t even seen is alright or not, maybe he’s just high and paranoid. Either way his curiosity gets the best of him and he starts walking towards the back of Barry’s place.

“She doesn’t need your help pretty boy, trust me.” Barry snorts and shakes his head as he begrudgingly follows him.

When Rafe rounds the corner the sight he sees is far from what he was expecting. The man who he heard yelling was shorter than him but more built, probably middle aged, he wore a white tank top and black board shorts and the look in his eyes told him that he was definitely one of Barry’s customers or less reliable dealers. The girl on the other hand? You were half his size, your hair in two braids with ribbons tied at the ends of them, you were wearing a tiny little baby pink tank top and black spandex shorts that barely covered her ass. You had combat boots on your feet that had little white ruffle socks sticking out of the top of them, but what was most shocking? You were holding a Glock in one of your small hands, and the collar of the man’s tank top was gathered in the other. You were standing on your tiptoes whilst also pulling the man down so he was face level with you, the Glock held to his head.

“I said, get on your fucking knees mother fucker, you got a hearing problem or some shit?” You growl at the man and it sends shivers down Rafe’s spine. You were beautiful. He watches as you shove the Glock into the man’s temple and ram your boot clad heel into his thigh causing him to fall to his knees with a grunt.

“Much better.” You smile as you tap his cheek with the gun before bringing it back to the side of his head. “Now, where the fuck is my fucking money?”

“I told you! I told you I don’t fucking have it right now I just need a little time!” The man’s voice is shaky now, his eyes traveling between you and the gun held to his head.

“Time? This isn’t a fucking loan service! Get me my money by tomorrow, or you’re fucked!” Your eyes are filled with fire and you let out a dry laugh.

“What’re you gonna do? Send Barry after me? Where is he at? He knows I always pay, just let me talk to hi-“ He’s cut off abruptly when you hit him across the cheek with the gun.

“SHUT UP!! You’re not fucking talking to Barry, you’re talking to me. If you don’t get my money you aren’t going to have to deal with him, you’re going to have to deal with me. Which I promise you don’t fucking want.” Rafe watches as you lean down into the guy's face, your eyes boring into his, a sinister smile paints your lips, and he isn’t even ashamed of the fact that he felt his cock stir in his pants at your display of dominance over this man twice your size. “Got it??”

“I don’t know how you expect me to get that amount by tomorrow I-“ The man grunts when you hit him in the face with the gun again, his face whipping to the side.

“I said, got it?” You hold the gun between his eyes, your smile never faltering.

“Yeah - yeah! I got it! I got it! Can I go now!?” The man holds his hands by his head in surrender, seemingly not wanting to argue with you further.

“I fucking mean it asshole, tomorrow, by sunset.” You glare at him momentarily before your smile returns, tapping his cheek with the gun again before turning to walk off.

“You aren’t gonna do shit bitch, you’re nothing without that little gun.”

Rafe’s blue eyes widen as he watches the man’s hand reach out and grab for your Glock. He subconsciously takes a step forward in your defense but soon realizes maybe you really don’t need help. Your body whips around, pulling the gun from the guy's reach and shooting him in the foot all in one motion. He screams out in pain, his hands grabbing onto his foot as he falls to the ground.

“Bring me my fucking money. Tomorrow. Or you’re going to be in a lot more pain than that.” You crouch down and spit in the guy's face before walking over him and into the house, letting the door slam shut behind you. Rafe stands there with his dick half hard and his jaw hanging open as he stares at the closed door you just disappeared behind.

“I told you she fuckin’ had it, and don’t even fuckin’ think about it, country club.” Barry’s voice snaps him out of his trance.

“Wha-? Think about what?”

“I see how you’re fuckin’ lookin at her dude, that’s like my sister in there. You stay your messy ass away from her, aight?”

“We should go check on her…” Rafe ignores Barry’s warning, walking towards the house despite his protests.

You let out an agitated groan as you flop down on the couch and toss your Glock on the cushion next to you. You grab a little clear baggy off the coffee table and sprinkle some of the powder onto the small mirror in front of you, using the random gift card you found in your wallet to push a portion of it into a straight line. You grab the rolled dollar bill sitting on the mirror and bring it up to your nose so fucking ready for this line after dealing with that shit head, but right when you bend over the front door slams open, causing you to jump back. Your foot hits the table and the movement makes a mess of your line. You let out a curse under your breath, your eyes rising to glare at your intruder.

You expect Barry, or maybe that fucking idiot really did want to lose a finger today. But instead of the brown eyes of your cousin, or the bloodshot hazel ones of your unreliable dealer, your eyes lock with piercing blue ones. You have to physically stop yourself from gasping at the sight of the man in front of you. He’s tall, really tall, and built, his chest and arms perfectly filling out the blue button up shirt he wore. His chestnut hair looked silky to the touch, his jaw looked perfect for biting, and his face was just all around beautiful. Especially those eyes, the look in them stern. There was something else there you couldn’t quite decipher, it almost seemed possessive.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Uh - yeah? Aside from the fact that you just scared the shit out of me and made me knock my line all over the table, I’m just peachy.” You scoff, throwing him a playful smirk and roll of your eyes.

“Country Club here seems to think you’re some kinda damsel in distress or some shit.” Barry walks through the door behind him, smacking his bicep with the back of his hand and laughing loudly.

“Damsel in distress, huh? I don’t think I’d mind if a pretty boy like you came to my rescue.” You bite your bottom lip, your eyes roaming his figure.

“Hell fuckin’ nah! Quit that shit out right now, Bunny. I mean it. I told him the same shit, I don’t want this.” He gestures between you and Rafe. “To be a thing. You two are a recipe for fuckin’ disaster. This is Rafe Cameron, the dude I was tellin’ you about.”

“What the fuck did you tell her about me man?” Rafe’s voice comes out almost panicked and you find yourself wanting to comfort him immediately. You jump up from your seat and walk around the table so you can stand in front of him. He’s even taller up close, you have to tilt your head all the way to meet his eyes and you stop yourself from clenching your thighs at the height difference.

“So this is the guy that killed the sheriff, huh? Pretty boy is a cop killer? I find that kind of sexy…” You twirl a strand of your hair between your fingers, your teeth subconsciously finding your bottom lip again as you look up at him through your lashes.

“Barry, what the hell man? You told her that shit?” He addresses the other man but his eyes don’t leave yours, the look in them changed from concern to defense, and maybe a little lust? He was honestly looking at you like he wanted to choke you to death and this time you really couldn’t stop yourself from clenching your thighs where you stood.

“Hey, I’m not going to rat you out or some shit. Barry gave me the low down on everyone on the island when I moved, if I’m going to work for him I need to know the ins and outs, ya know? He trusts me, if you trust him, you can trust me. I’m cool.” You give him a smile that you hope is reassuring, you aren’t sure why but you want him to trust you.

“Alright.” His eyes search your face, almost as if he’s trying to read your thoughts, to see if you really mean it.

“Alright, we good?” You extend your hand towards him and he takes it in his much larger one, shaking it.

“We’re good.” You go to pull your hand away but he tightens his grasp, keeping it held in his. “You didn’t tell me your name though, or should I just call you, what did Barry call you? Bunny?”

“Bunny is preferred, but you can call me my real name too, if you’d like.” You let your thumb run across the back of his hand as you tell him your name, your eyes never leaving his.

“AIGHT! That’s enough of alla that.” Barry pushes past you, plopping down on the couch he grabs the bong on the coffee table and starts to load it.

“Bare, stop acting like you’re in charge of who I flirt with. I'm a grown ass woman, you're being dramatic.” You scoff, sending him a death glare.

“Seriously man, you’re acting like you’re her dad or some shit.” He chuckles when your cousin flips him off. “I’m sorry about your line by the way, I really just came to check in on you after I saw you arguing with that asshole out there. Let me make it up to you.”

Rafe brings his hand up to your shoulder, running his thumb over the blade a few times before letting it graze down your arm as he walks towards the couch. You watch as he sits down next to Barry and picks up your gift card, expertly lining the fine power back into a nice row before patting the cushion next to him. A smile breaks across your lips as you take the empty seat. He doesn’t miss the way your tits bounce when your ass hits the couch and the smell of your sweet perfume makes his cock twitch.

“For you, pretty girl.” He holds the folded dollar bill up to you with a smirk and you happily take it from him.

“Thanks, cutie.” You wink at him. When you lean down Rafe notices your hair is in your way so like it’s the most casual thing in the world he brings his large hand up to your face and sweeps the straw pieces behind your ear. He pushes the rest of it behind your shoulder and his hand stays there while you inhale through your nostril. His touch doesn’t leave you, even when you lean back against the couch, he simply adjusts it so it’s around your shoulder.

“You gonna flirt with my cousin all goddamn night or are we gonna deal with your little pouge problem?”

“Pouge problem? What’s going on?” You raise your eyebrows, your eyes traveling between Barry and Rafe.

“You remember that little fucker John B I was telling you about? His ass is alive and back on the island.” Barry shakes his head and lets out a dry laugh.

“That’s the kid the cops think killed the sheriff, right? Damn. That’s not good for you, Rafe.” You make eye contact and bite your lip nervously. “Those kids know you actually killed her, don’t they?”

“Yeah, and my fucking sister is with them. Her and John B were there, they saw the whole goddamn thing.” Rafe groans, his hands running through his hair in frustration. “I can’t have them opening their fucking mouths. I just can’t.”

“Then you know what you have to do, right? Shut them the fuck up, once and for all.” Your eyes darken and it reminded him of the way they looked outside, when you were holding a gun to your dealer's head.

“Yeah, no shit dude, that’s why I said we were going to deal with it.” Barry scoffs, rolling his eyes at you.

“Okay, I don’t know what the hell is up with you attitude Bare, but fucking ditch it.” You glare at him as you grab the couch pillow next to you and throw it at his face.

“Oh? You wanna fuckin’ go bruh?” Your cousin grins at you, gripping the pillow in his hand and swinging it over Rafe’s body, directly into your face with a cackle.

“Oh you mother fucker!” You let out a laugh, your hands go for the pillow but it’s ripped from your grasp.

“CUT IT THE FUCK OUT!!” Rafe takes the pillow in his large ringed hand and throws it across the room causing you to jump, your smile falling. “Barry, are you gonna help me or not man?”

“Hey.” Your eyes are soft again, you put your hand on his chest and rub soft circles onto his skin through his shirt with the pad of your thumb. “He’s going to help you, and I will too. We were just fucking around, everything’s alright. You’re probably under a lot of stress, huh? Poor thing.”

Rafe isn’t exactly sure how to react. No one has ever taken his anger and looked at it as more than just that, anger, yet here you are knowing him for all of ten minutes and the minute he loses his temper you see it for what it is, stress. Plus you’re kind of coddling him, and he’s never had anyone coddle him before. He almost feels speechless.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick about it like she is but I’m gonna help you man, fuckin’ relax. We doin’ this shit tonight?” Barry cracks his knuckles and kicks his feet up on the coffee table, earning an immediate glare from you. He scoffs, taking his feet off the table with a roll of his eyes. “I don’t know why you care so much if my feet are on the table dude, it’s my fuckin’ table anyways.”

“The drugs I put inside my nose are on this table, I don’t want your dirty ass shoes on it. It's common sense really.” He rolls his eyes and you flip him off, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Yeah man, tonight. I want to give this shit over with. I bet you anything they’re at John B’s. They’re stupid enough to go there.” Rafe’s hand is tapping on his already shaking leg and you can tell he’s anxious, you reach out and grab it, stopping his motions. He doesn’t look at you, but he intertwines your fingers, his hand squeezing yours. You squeeze his back and bring your other hand to his bicep so you can rub soothing circles on it. He lets out a sigh. “Once it’s dark, then they won’t see us coming.”

“Aight, let’s do this shit. Bunny, you in?” Barry raises a brow at you, his eyes lingering on the way you’re touching Rafe. “Also, I thought I said I didn’t want this to be a thing.”

“It could be dangerous, I don’t know if you should come, I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” Rafe answers before you can, his hand squeezing yours again in what you assume is supposed to be reassurance but it actually just pisses you off.

“Okay.” Your voice is stern, your hands leave him as you stand from the couch and he immediately misses your touch. “I wanna get something straight, right fucking now. I am not some weak little girl who sits at home while all the fun shit goes down. If that’s the kinda girl you’re into, you are not going to find that with me. I’m a ride or die type of bitch. If my man is in trouble, I’m helping him. So if you want this to be a ‘thing’ as Barry is calling it, then I suggest you accept that sooner rather than later.”

“And you, have no fucking say in who I do and don’t engage with sexually or romatically. Me and Rafe clearly have chemistry and I could tell that the moment I locked eyes with him, so you’re just going to have to get the fuck over it. Are we clear? Both of you?” You look between them, your hands on your hips and that fire Rafe is already becoming addicted to in your eyes.

“Whatever, your lil ass has always been fuckin’ impossible to control. If this blows up in your face I’m gonna say I told you so, cuz.” Barry snorts.

“Yeah baby, I got it.” Rafe cuts in, sending a shockwave through your body with the pet name. “I saw you out there with that guy, you might be tougher than Barry.”

This makes you smile, your eyes turning soft as you approach him on the couch. This time you don’t take the seat next to him, you sit across his lap, facing your cousin with a triumphant smile. Rafe's arm circles around your waist and you nestle in closer to him.

“Alright then. Glad we are all on the same page now. So what’s the plan?”

“FUCK!!!!” Rafe was pissed, he threw himself into the driver's seat of his truck, slamming his hands down on the wheel. “FUCKING BULLSHIT!! THEY HAD TO OF JUST BEEN FUCKING BEEN THERE! POUGE FOR LIFE SARAH?! HUH?! I SEE HOW IT FUCKING IS!!”

“Rafe…” You approach the open driver's door, gently resting your hand on top of one of his that was white knuckling the steering wheel. Completely unafraid, despite the fact that he’s still holding the gun Barry gave him in his other hand. “Let’s just calm down for a second, okay? We’re gonna work it out, they aren’t going to fuck with you.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS? I’M FUCKED! YOU DON’T FUCKING GET IT! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FUCKING DAD! YOU DON’T KNOW MY FAMILY, IF IT COMES BETWEEN ME AND MY GODDAMN SISTER HE’S GONNA FUCKING CHOOSE HER!!!” His hands leave the wheel, weaving through his hair and tugging, the gun pressed up against the side of his face.

“Hey.” You put your hands over his, turning his face towards yours. “I might not know about all that shit, maybe not yet at least, but I know that when I say I’m going to do something I get it done. You aren’t alone in this, I’m going to help you, okay?”

Your voice is sweet, the look in your eyes is gentle and reassuring, and your hands? They’re so soft, and cool against his face, the feeling of them soothes him in a way he’s never felt before. He lets out a sigh, relaxing under your touch.

“We are going to deal with this, but for right now we need to get the fuck out of here. Those gunshots could’ve caught someone’s attention.” You run your thumbs over the top of his hands before grabbing onto the gun, pulling it from his grasp with a smile. You tuck it into your boot and lean up onto your tiptoes to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“Yeah, alright.” He nods, his hands smoothing through his hair.

You walk around the front of the truck so you can hop into the passenger seat, Barry already sat in the back anxiously bouncing his leg.

“Okay, let’s take Barry back to the house and then I think you and I should go somewhere together.” You buckle your seatbelt and turn to face him.

“Yeah? Where?” He shoves the keys in the ignition and puts the truck in drive, pulling away from the Châtea and into the night.

“Just trust me, I know a spot.” You kick your feet up on the dash, reaching into your purse for a cigarette and your lighter.

“Every instinct in my body is telling me to tell you to bring your ass home with me, but you’re not gonna listen to me for shit so I’m not gonna waste my breath. Gimme one of those fuckin’ cigarettes though.” Barry leans forward, snatching the entire pack and your lighter from your hands.

“Yeah, you’re better off not arguing with me Bare. Fucking give those back though, dick.” He rolls his eyes, lighting the cigarette he took from your pack before throwing it back to you.

“Yeah whatever, just fuckin’ take me home man.”

“Okay, take a left here and on your right you’re gonna see a little road that goes through these trees.” You point out the window, directing Rafe as he drives.

“Where the hell are you taking me, huh? You taking me out somewhere quiet to sacrifice me?” He chuckles, looking over at you with a smirk.

“Mmm, I bet you’d like that, huh? Preppy rich boys like you always like the fucked up alternative girls from the sticks.” You return his smirk with one of your own.

“Ha! I guess you’re right, I wouldn’t mind if you spilled a little bit of my blood, as long as I could spill yours too…” he reaches the end of the road, driving into a clearing in the trees, a patch of lone beach in front of you.

“Yeah? That’s hot. Stop here.” He obliges, putting the truck into park and taking off his seatbelt. You do the same, turning towards him with your legs tucked underneath you.

“What’re we really doing out here, vampire girl?” His eyes meet yours momentarily before the trail down your body, taking extra time to admire your tits in your top.

“Mmm, well, I know you’re really stressed and I just thought… maybe you could take some of your frustrations out on me?” You lock eyes with him, your tongue running over your bottom lip before you take it between your teeth.

“Yeah? You brought me out here so I would fuck the shit out of you?” He licks his lips, his large hand reaches out to rest on your thigh, squeezing the meat of it between his fingers.

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t want to take me home after that shit you said about your family and Barry would probably either kill us both or have a stroke if you fucked me how I want you to fuck me at my place.” You said it oh so matter of fact, that smirk ever present on your lips.

“And how do you want me to fuck you? Huh, bunny?” His hand runs along the length of your thigh, stopping at the hem of your shorts. He grabs onto it, the tips of his thumb and his pinky just dipping under the fabric.

“I want you to fuck me like you hate me, take your frustrations out on me, Rafe. Use me.” Your voice comes out desperate and it makes him groan.

“I’ve barely even touched you yet and you’re already practically begging for me… you wanna be my little slut, that it?” His thumb runs down the seam of your shorts, stopping at your wet core. “You’re fucking dripping. I can feel it through your panties.”

“It’s all for you, want you, want to be your little slut so bad.”

“Fuck.” The hand not on your thigh reaches for your throat, squeezing it and cutting off your air supply in the most delicious way. “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

He uses his grip on your throat to pull your face to his, smashing his lips against your own in a bruising kiss. You moan against his mouth and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips. You bring your hands up to tangle your fingers through his hair at the same time that his hand on your thigh pushes your shorts and panties to the side, burying two fingers in your wet cunt with little resistance. He begins pumping them in and out of you while his grip on your throat never falters. He pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes almost black with lust as they bore into your own. His thumb finds your clit and your back arches, a loud moan ripping through you.

“Open your fucking mouth.” You oblige, sticking your tongue out and looking up at him through your lashes. He leans over you and lets a string of spit drop onto your waiting tongue. You moan as you happily swallow it. “Good girl. Want you to cum for me.”

His fingers hook just right inside you, rubbing against your g-spot and his thumb circles your clit perfectly. You feel your high approaching fast, you push your tank top down, letting your braless tits fall free. You grab them in your hands, tweaking your nipples, it causes your eyes to roll back and you feel that coil in your stomach about to snap. Rafe’s hand leaves your throat and grips onto your jaw in one swift motion.

“Fucking look at me when I make you cum.” He squeezes your cheeks between his thumb and pointer finger, causing your lips to pout. “I own this pussy now, that means I own your orgasms too, look at me while I take what’s mine.”

You open your eyes, and the minute they meet his your high crashes over you like a tidal wave. A broken moan leaves your throat and your walls clench around his large fingers as they continue to fuck you through your high. He pulls them from your pussy, holding them up to his face to examine them. They’re creamy white and glistening in the moonlight. You grab his wrist and take them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them. He growls in response, shoving them further down your throat. You gag and he licks his lips, the sound going straight to his cock.

“Fuck, wanna feel you gagging around my dick. Get out of the truck and get on your knees, now.” He pulls his fingers from between your lips and takes them into his own mouth. The taste of your spit mixed with the remainder of your arousal sending his eyes to the back of his head. You follow his direction, hastily throwing the truck door open and getting out. You start to walk around the back and he stops you halfway, grabbing you by the hair so he can pull your head back, forcing you to look up at him. “I’m going to fuck this pretty little mouth while you kneel in the sand like the dirty slut you are. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You nod as best as you can with the grip he has on your head, that sickeningly sweet smirk from when he first saw you earlier that day spread across your lips.

“Yeah, daddy, I want you to use my mouth like a fucking cock sleeve.” His eyes widen and a groan rips through him at the sound of that name leaving your lips.

“Fuck. Take this off.” He grabs the hem of your tank top and you lift your arms so he can pull it over your head. He takes your tits in his hands and squeezes them, the coolness of them sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, your nipples hardening under his touch. “Fucking perfect tits. Knees. Now.”

You drop to your knees and eagerly reach for the button on his shorts undoing it and his zipper in one swift motion. His cock is straining against his black boxers and your mouth waters at the sight. You pull his shorts and boxers down and it springs free, thick and hard and leaking just for you. You knew he would be big, but goddamn his cock is huge.

“Mmm daddy, you’re so big, fuck.” You spit on your hand and bring it to his shaft, lightly stroking him. That bead of precum on his head is practically begging you to taste it so you lean forward and lick his slit with the tip of your tongue. You circle his tip before taking it in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

“Yeah, that’s right baby, suck daddy’s cock.” His hands grab onto your braids like makeshift handlebars and he uses his grip to push himself all the way down your throat, causing you to gag around him. He holds your head there for a few seconds before pulling you off with a pop. Your mouth subconsciously chases his taste. “Oh you’re such an eager little whore huh? You like that? You like gagging on my cock?”

You nod and his grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back so you’re looking up into his eyes.

“Fuckin’ answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“Yes - yes daddy, I fucking love it.”

“That’s what I thought.” He smirks down at you, shoving his cock back into your mouth and immediately thrusting into your throat. You gag and your eyes water, your mascara already starting to run down your cheeks. “God. Fucking look at you, I can see my cock in your throat baby.”

So much drool is dripping out of the sides of your mouth that it’s started to run down your chest and onto your tits. You swipe your fingers through it, wetting them before bringing them to his balls, caressing them in your lubed up hand.

“Oh fuck! Yeah, shiiiiit, play with my fucking balls, that’s so fucking good.” You look up at him and his head is thrown back, his neck on display, you can see all the veins in his biceps and the moans leaving him are feral. Your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight. Your hand travels between your legs and into your little spandex shorts, expertly finding your already slick clit and rubbing quick circles over it. Your moans increase in volume and it causes him to glance down at you, taking notice of your hand in your shorts.

“Hey, what the fuck did I say huh?” He pulls you off of him, bending at the waist so his face is hovering over yours. “I said that’s my fucking pussy, that means I’m the only one who gets to make you cum. Get up.”

He lets go of your hair, grabbing you underneath your arms and pulling you to your feet. He turns towards the truck and rips the bed open, grabbing onto your hips and roughly turning you. He pushes down on your back, and you take the hint, bending at the waist so your top half is against the truck bed. The plastic floor is cool and rough against your nipples and your lower half hangs off the truck, your feet not touching the ground. A harsh smack lands on your ass, causing you to help and jolt forward.

“You’re not so tough now, huh, vampire girl? Your pathetic dealers know you’re just a little slut who likes to get thrown around? Or is that just for me?” He grabs onto your shorts and panties, ripping them down to your ankles where they pool at the top of your boots. “Look at you, you’re so fucking wet.”

He drops to his knees, his tongue licking a stripe from your clit to your asshole and back again. He sucks your sensitive bud into his mouth and his hand comes down on your ass again. You feel like you’re going to cum embarrassingly soon. His fingers run through your slick lips before they’re sliding inside you, immediately hooking into your sweet spot. You cum suddenly and hard, your whole body shaking underneath him.

“Please fuck me now daddy, please, I want your cock so bad” you voice is whiney and you shake your ass from side to side, arching your back so it’s further on display for him.

“Quit begging, I’m gonna give you what you want, don’t be a greedy brat.” He stands, two harsh smacks landing on your ass. He takes his cock in his hand and runs the head through your slit, coating it in your wetness. He pushes into you in one swift motion, and immediately starts fucking you at a brutal pace.

“Yes! Fuck! You’re so big, feels so full.” Your voice is a breathy moan, his cock feels like it’s in your lungs and the door to the truck bed is digging into your hips but god it feels so good. His hands are grabbing your hips so roughly that you think his nails might be drawing blood, and god you hope they are. You want him to mark you as his, anywhere and everywhere.

“Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, gripping my cock so good. This pussy was fucking made for me. Say it.” He leans over you, practically crushing you, but his cock hits even deeper than before and his mouth latches onto your neck and it’s like he read your mind because he starts to roughly suck and bite into your skin. Definitely leaving marks behind. “Say it. Say this pussy was made for me.”

“This pussy was fucking made for you, daddy.” You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him the best you can with your limited movement, wanting to feel every ridge and vein of him as deep inside you as possible.

“Yeah it fucking was.” He leans back, his hand gripping onto your hair again so he can pull your back against his chest. The sting of the truck against your hips at an all time high. He releases your hair so he can grip onto your throat instead, his other hand coming down to rub your clit. The feelings of pain mixed with pleasure sending you closer and closer to another orgasm. “You gonna cum already? I can feel you tightening around my cock baby girl.”

“Yeah - yeah I’m - fuck - I’m gonna cum for you daddy, you just feel sofuckinggood.” You’re a drooling whimpering mess and the coil is seconds away from snapping when he stops his movements and pulls out of you, taking your orgasm with him. “Hey what-“

Before you can protest he grips onto your hips, flipping you over onto your back. He grabs your throat and pulls you into a sitting position, grabbing onto your thigh with his other hand so he can pull you to the edge of the truck.

“I told you, I want you to look at me when you cum. You owe me for that last one.” He slams his cock into you, continuing to fuck you like his life depends on it. His thumb finds your clit again and his mouth latches onto your neck, biting down so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if you had a bruise in the shape of his teeth marks. You’d get it tattooed if he wanted. You already knew at that moment this man had ruined all other men for you. He had you.

“Fuck - fuck daddy, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum I’m gonna cum”

“Fucking cum for me, I’ll fill this little pussy up, paint your walls with my cum. Milk my cock, slut.”

His words send you over the edge, cumming harder than you have all night. Your walls convulse around him and your nails rake down his back, leaving red marks in their wake. But that’s not what does him in, it’s the fact that you never break eye contact with him for a second. Obeying him like the good girl you are.

“Fuck! Good fucking girl, best fucking pussy I’ve ever had. Never gonna leave you alone now. Never quitting this pussy.” He cums with a growl, shoving his cock deep inside you. He fucks you through his high, his thrusts never letting up, his face shoved into your neck. When he finally starts to come down he lets his softening cock slip out of you, his lips finding yours and kissing you with fever.

“Never quittting this pussy, huh, pretty boy? That’s a bold statement to make about a girl you just met.” You smirk at him, taking his face in his hands and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.

“Don’t fucking care, I meant every word. You’re fucking mine now.” He turns his head to the side, placing a kiss on the inside of your palm.

“Does that mean you’re mine too? I don’t do one sided bullshit.”

“Yeah baby, that means I’m yours too. Come on, get your clothes on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He places a gentle kiss on your lips, grabbing your clothes off the sandy ground and shaking them out before handing them to you.

“You gonna take me home now? Barry is just gonna love all the hickies I know you left on my neck.” You smirk at him, pulling your shirt over your head.

“Nah, I’m bringing you home with me. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He cups your jaw in his hand, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

“What about your family?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Fuck em, you’re my girl now, they’re going to have to get used to it. Get your ass in the truck, I wanna fuck you in my shower.”

You giggle, running around to jump in the truck. You didn’t even see his family that night. But they definitely heard Rafe making good on his promise to fuck you all night long and you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel bad. Not that night, and not the next morning when he introduced you to his dad and step mom while they had disgusted looks on their faces. You just smiled, happily shaking their hands like you weren’t calling their son daddy until the sun came up.

Tagging moots who might be interested: @chrrymunson @emsgoodthinkin @imyourdaninow 🖤

#rafe Cameron #rafe OBX #rafe Cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe Cameron smut #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x fem!reader #Dolly writes

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Summary: Grandma's funeral brings out a side of Ms. Sweetheart that Eddie hasn't ever seen, leaving the two of them questioning everything they've built up together.

Warnings: funeral service (I tried to keep it as neutral as possible so it could apply to any religion), mentions of cause of Grandma's death, failed attempt at sex, pretty much all angst sorry

WC: 5.1k

Chapter 10/20

Divider credit to @saradika Harris's note credit to @girlwiththerubyslippers

Eddie can’t remember the last time he went to a funeral. It might’ve been for one of Wayne’s friends, or a distant great-aunt twice removed. He doesn’t even own a proper suit for such an occasion; everything he’s wearing actually belongs to Wayne. He smooths down the creases in his black slacks; the material of anything other than worn denim is foreign against his legs. The elbows of his coat jacket are patched, and he slides his palms over them in embarrassment.

He takes a seat in one of the back rows, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible while the other mourners file in. There’s a pit growing in his stomach as his gaze swoops to the coffin resting at the front of the room. The realization that Grandma was inside was almost too much for him to handle, and he’d only met her a month ago. He hadn’t known her when she was…herself, but he saw glimpses of her now and again. The last time he was over for a Wednesday night dinner, she rested her head on his shoulder as though she’d done it a million times. You’d mouthed sorry, but Eddie had simply smiled and let Grandma stay there as long as she wanted. If he was being honest, he felt special, knowing that she was comfortable with him.

Eddie’s eyes are only drawn from the casket when he sees you walk among your family. He immediately takes note of your face, normally soft and vibrant, now stoic and emotionless. It’s a sharp contrast to your relatives, who wear their grief through bloodshot eyes and tear-stained cheeks. The hymn playing in the background fades out as a man speaks up at the podium. 

Eddie’s barely listening, keeping his attention on you. He watches your mouth move as you recite the prayers along with the rest of your family, though he’s only half-listening to them. He’s never been one for organized religion, but he echoes the closing statement when everyone else does. 

That’s when you stand up, smoothing down your dress at the back of your thighs, and walk towards the front of the room. You’re clutching a piece of paper in your hand, which Eddie notices is slightly trembling. He locks eyes with you, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip and offers the smallest of encouraging smiles. You acknowledge it with a tiny nod in his direction before taking a deep breath and beginning the eulogy. 

“Um, h-hi.,” you start, stumbling over your words awkwardly. You clear your throat and try again. “Thank you all for coming to honor and remember Grandma. It’s evident that she meant a lot to so many people. 

“When I was writing this eulogy, I kept thinking about who she was as a person.” You don’t let your gaze drift from Eddie’s, and you could swear that he’s the only force keeping you from crumbling to the ground in a heap of grief. “For a lot of us, we wonder what ‘big thing’ will define our lives. The occasion that people will remember us by, you know? But with Grandma, there wasn’t one ‘big thing.’ Her life was a series of little kindnesses that she made sure to sprinkle into her everyday life. Like, when I was a kid, my dad broke his ankle. My mom couldn’t leave me home alone, so Grandma drove him to and from the hospital and stayed with him while he waited. She always took care of us. 

“One of my favorite memories is how she would bring me a bouquet of flowers after every dance recital I was in. She’d be waiting for me by the stage door with a big smile on her face, telling me what a great job I did, even if I totally messed up…she was the best. All she wanted was for the people she loved to be happy. 

“And that’s what I associate with Grandma—love. How much I loved her, and how much she loved us. Just a few weeks ago, she was sharing Oreos with the kid I tutor, and it reminded me of how she used to be with me.” At that line, Eddie feels his lip quiver, tears dampening his lashes, and he ducks his head to keep you from seeing him break. This time, it’s more for your sake than his, since you’re leaning on him to remain upright. “I encourage all of you to find the little kindnesses in life, and to be the kindness in someone’s day. 

“Grandma, you are already so missed. I hope you’re seeing the values you instilled in each of us. Rest easy. We’ll take it from here.” The only sounds in the entire room are the heels of your shoes clacking on the floor and sniffling from nearly everyone else in the congregation. You take your seat quietly, bowing your head as though trying to hide.

The rest of the service is a blur of hymns and prayers; nothing, Eddie notes, nearly as moving as the eulogy you gave. He barely notices when the people around him start moving, keeping a watchful eye on you. You’re trying to blend in amongst your black-clad relatives, but Eddie has no problem finding you. He cranes his neck just in time to see your family make a right through the doors, while you pivot left. 

Instinctively, his hands tuck into his pants pocket as he fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter. He has no idea what to say to you, no idea where to even begin. He needs a smoke or three to clear his head before he sees you and stammers out some half-witted acknowledgment of your loss. There’s no time for that; however, because as soon as he steps outside, he sees you sitting on the steps. It’s freezing outside, but your arms are bare, and Eddie can see the prickle of goosebumps lining your skin.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he asks, drawing your attention as he takes a seat next to you. He shrugs off his own jacket, placing it over your shoulders without a second thought. 

You offer him a sad smile, tugging the coat so it covers more of you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until you felt the contrast of his body heat. “Trying to avoid my family,” you admit, placing your hand over Eddie’s. “Could you take me home? I got a ride here from my uncle, but I really don’t want to go out to eat with everyone.” They’re probably arguing over where to get lunch right now, acting as though their matriarch isn’t about to be lowered into the ground.

“You sure?” Eddie’s eyebrows pinch together in concern. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want to take you away from them or anything.” He can picture the sneers he’ll receive, a pit forming in his stomach.

You remain unfazed to the conundrum he faces. “Trust me, you’d be doing me a favor. I can’t…” your voice catches, so you restart your sentence. “I can’t sit there while everyone’s smiling and laughing. That’s what happens when an old, sick person dies; people don’t even try to hide their relief. I need…I need to be alone.” You tuck your lips inside your mouth, attempting to bury your feelings.

Eddie nods, reaching over to take his keys out of the jacket you’re now wearing. “Yeah, no, I get it. We can get outta here.” He stands up, takes your hand in his to help you to your feet, and leads you to the car as inconspicuous as possible. The last thing either of you need is to be confronted by one of your relatives.

The two of you sit in the car quietly, without even the radio on. Eddie can’t remember the last time he’s had a silent car ride; he either has music playing, Harris yammering his ear off, or a combination of both. He keeps his hands at ten and two, internally debating whether or not to rest one on your knee. It wouldn’t be a sexual thing, not even close, but he doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea. His grip remains steady, the hum of the engine is the only sound.

You take this time to study him, taking in the crow’s feet that line the edges of his eyes, the tiny patch of stubble that he’d missed while shaving, the slight dimple in his chin. You try and turn before he can catch you, and though your efforts are fruitless, he doesn’t quite call you out on it. “Y’good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, smoothing a part of your dress that isn’t wrinkled. “Could you come inside for a little while? I thought I wanted to be by myself, but I really want you to stay.”

You really want him to stay. Not just that you need company, but you want him specifically. The notion sets all of Eddie’s nerve endings alight. “‘Course,” he replies, perhaps a bit too casually to cover up his excitement over the realization that he brings you some form of comfort.

When he pulls into the apartment complex’s parking lot and shuts off the ignition, he takes the opportunity to hold your hand again. It’s so much different than when he held it a few days earlier on your date, when there was an atmosphere of joy and hope. Now it’s like he’s pulling you along, like his lead is what has you placing one heel-clad foot in front of the other.

You unlock the door, accidentally leaving the key within its latch, and Eddie quietly removes it and places it on the table. His fingers ghost your biceps to remove your–his–coat from your body, but you just pull it on farther like a safety blanket.

“Y’want coffee? ‘M gonna put on a pot,” you offer quietly, already heading over to the kitchen. You scoop out a serving of coffee grounds for you, inhaling the hazelnut scent before dumping it into the basket, glancing over at him for his response.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he nods, and you put another scoop in before filling the carafe with tap water. With a flick of the power button, the Black + Decker rumbles and kicks on, and the drip drip drip of coffee fills the room.

You grab two mugs from the cupboard and place them on the counter. “How’d you even find out about the funeral?” 

Eddie walks over, though he feels as though he can’t get close enough. He just wants to hold you tight and never let go, but you’ve put up some sort of barrier that he can’t quite interpret. “Oh, um, I asked Byers. I hope you don’t mind–I tried calling you, but it said the line was disconnected.”

Your cheeks burn. “That was Grandma.” Eddie looks confused–rightfully so–and you elaborate. “The morning that she…she got annoyed with the phone ringing, so when I wasn’t looking, she took the scissors and cut the wire.”

Eddie’s jaw drops in disbelief. “You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. I left the house for a few minutes to get a new phone, and when I came back, she’d fallen asleep and…” you swallow thickly, rummaging through the refrigerator for the tiny carton of half-and-half, “…and she never woke up. First call I made with the new phone was to 9-1-1, but it was too late.” Too late. That’s what the EMTs told you: I’m sorry, but it’s too late. 

“Oh, Sweetheart. My sweet girl…” Eddie’s heart lurches, and he instinctively reaches out to you. One hand lays between your shoulder blades while the other rubs up and down your spine. He’s careful not to let it drop too low, never going past the small of your back. Though you’re pressed flush to his chest, there’s still a strange disconnect between you. 

Despite every urge you have to cling to him, you pull away and shove a teaspoon into the sugar bowl, sliding it towards him on the counter. “S’okay. I mean, it’s not, but…they said she’d had a heart attack. If I didn’t get the phone, I wouldn’t have been able to call for an ambulance anyway.” The dripping of the coffee maker slows as it finishes brewing. “Only thing I could do is go back in time and stop her from cutting the wires, and Melvald’s was all outta time machines,” you joke, but it falls flat.

Eddie frowns, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the countertop. “You don’t have to do this, y’know.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pretend like you’re alright,” he explains, voice hardly louder than a whisper. He tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

You feel an anger rising within you, though you’re unable to pinpoint its origin. “I am alright,” you insist through gritted teeth.

Eddie shakes his head, peering at you through his impossibly long eyelashes. “It’s okay to be sad–”

“Don’t you get it, Eddie?” You cut him off with a snap, slamming the coffee pot down so harshly that it almost cracks. “I’m not sad. I’m not relieved. I’m not anything. My grandma just died, and I don’t feel a goddamn thing! It’s like I’m some kind of monster.”

“Hey, hey, c’mere.” He hugs you again, holds you even tighter than before as he kisses the top of your head. “You’re not a monster, ‘kay? I promise you.”

You look up at him, not quite believing his words, but you press your lips to his. He kisses you back gently; timidly even, but you deepen it and graze his tongue with your own. Your left hand weaves its way through his messy curls and your right fumbles with his belt buckle, but you’re unable to unhook the clasp before he steps back.

“What’re you–” His eyes widen and he puts his hands up to avoid touching you, clearly confused by your behavior. If you had the capacity to be honest with yourself, you’d admit that you’re not sure why you’re doing this, either.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, trying to reconnect your lips with his, but he just pulls away again. “Please, I…I need this. I need you.”

“If we sleep together for the first time right now, while you’re like this, you’ll regret it,” he says.

You don’t deny the accusation; instead, you double down on it. “Okay, so I’ll regret it! I’ll feel regret, but at least I’ll feel something!” Your trembling fingers brush against his shirt, trying to grab onto it and bring his body to you, but he turns with a scoff.

“You’d really be okay with that?” There’s unmistakeable anger in his tone, but it’s laced with something more than that; something that sounds more like hurt. “Regretting our first time together?”

“Didn’t we almost fuck on your couch the night we met? You didn’t even know my last name. You barely knew my first name.” Your words are biting, thick with malice. “When did you become so averse to meaningless sex?”

“Meaningless?” Eddie balks, digging his fingernails into his palms until they leave crescent-shaped marks. His lips contort into a perplexed grimace as he formulates a response. “I, um, I gotta go. I’ll call you–”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that line before, and I’m not falling for it again.” You can’t stop the words before they’re tumbling from your mouth, and you can’t take them back. “Shit, Eddie–”

“Just—don’t say anything else, ‘kay? I’m leaving.” He turns around, digging into his back pocket. “This is for you. From me and Harris.” He tosses a piece of notebook paper, folded into fourths, onto the end table and closes the door with a slam.

You stand there, dumbfounded at what just occurred–mostly at your own actions. When you move towards the paper, you realize that you’re still wearing Eddie’s suit jacket, and you yank it off and throw it to the ground, leaving it in a heap. You open the note and read, vision blurred from the tears threatening to spill over.

The innocent kindness of a little boy is all it takes for you to break down and cry, muffling your sobs in your palms though there isn’t anyone around to hear them. Grandma was gone. You’d chased Eddie away with the same vitriol he’d spewed at you that day at the record store. You’re really, truly alone.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you chant to no one in particular. You’re sorry to Grandma, for leaving her home alone. You could’ve asked Jess to run out and get a new phone, but you’d needed a break from Grandma’s anger that was always directed towards you. That morning, after you’d discovered the cut phone line, there had been another argument over taking her medication, and she yelled “I HATE YOU!” at the top of her lungs. Then she sat at the table and ate a bowl of cereal like nothing had happened. Instead of taking a deep breath and brushing it off, you’d grabbed your keys and headed to RadioShack. You could’ve driven there, it would’ve made the trip much faster, but you’d decided to walk. The fresh air would do you good, you told yourself, pushing away the full truth of the matter: you’d desperately needed to be away from Grandma. When you got back, she was laying on the couch, and you would’ve sworn she was only sleeping…

You’re sorry to Eddie. Sorry that he’d wasted his time with someone who resorted to dredging up the past as soon as she felt an ounce of anger and rejection. Someone who insisted that he could trust her and then promptly shattered that rapport once he’d let his guard down.

And for a split second, you allow yourself to feel sorry for you. Sorry that you couldn’t even grieve properly without feeling like you didn’t deserve it, because if you were home, Grandma might still be alive. 

You look down at the card one more time, choking out a laugh through your tears at Harris’s offer to share his grandpa. It dawns on you that you’ll either have to stop tutoring him or continue to see Eddie on a weekly basis. Everyone who comes in contact with me gets entangled in my problems, you note miserably. Eddie’s finally getting his life together and I’m fucking it all up. He deserves better than me.

Maybe it’s a good idea to leave Hawkins and go back home, at least for the holidays. You’re not sure what type of celebrations the family will muster up, but it’s better than being alone with your thoughts. And if you never return, that might be best for everybody.

The bell above the drugstore door chimes as Eddie pushes his way in. He smoked out his remaining cigarettes on the drive over, and he’s desperate for another pack. He makes a beeline for the back wall, plucking his usual Camels from the display. “Perfect,” he mutters, though his lungs would certainly disagree.

As he shuffles towards the cashier, he spots a familiar face in one of the aisles. His lurking cowardice screams at him to run away, but he shoves it deep down and talks anyway. “H-Hey, man. How’s it going?”

Jeff turns around, first bewildered at who’s speaking to him, then tensing up when he sees Eddie standing before him. “Can’t complain. Just getting some of these prenatal vitamin things for Viv,” he replies tersely, shaking the bottle to emphasize his statement.

There’s an awkward silence before Eddie speaks again. “Look, um, I’m really sorry about what happened at our last show.” He rubs the back of his neck and winces at the memory. “What I said, what I didn’t say…you’re gonna be a great dad, dude. Like, the best. I was just jealous, but that’s not an excuse to be an asshole.”

“Jealous?” Jeff cocks an eyebrow incredulously, willing Eddie to continue.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, shamefully averting his gaze. “You’re bringing a kid into a stable household, and I couldn’t do that for Harris. I don’t regret having him, of course, but I’ll always feel guilty about the shitshow he was born into.” He taps the pack of cigarettes on his palm, biting his lower lip to shut himself up. “Anyway, I gotta get home—”

“Eddie Munson?” He turns around to see a young woman standing behind him. Her low-cut top shows off the top of her breasts, cleavage pushed up by a bra, and her jeans hug every curve. She purses her pink-glossed lips together in a flirtatious smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m Lisa.” She says this like Eddie should already know this, and he’s embarrassed to admit to himself that he can’t place the name or face. “We hooked up last summer at the Hideout? In the men’s room?” Lisa lowers her voice seductively to whisper that detail. “I haven’t seen you there in a while.”

“Oh, yeah.” There have been multiple men’s room hook-ups, but he’s not about to play detective to figure out exactly who she is, so he plays along. “The band’s been on a bit of a…hiatus, I guess.” From his peripheral vision, he can see Jeff ducking his head, and his cheeks burn with the truth.

Lisa juts out her lower lip in an exaggerated pout, though Eddie knows it’s all for show. “That’s too bad.” She lets her hand rest on his chest, leaning into him and twirling a strand of his hair around a polished fingernail. “If you’re not busy tonight, I’d love to have you over for drinks and…dessert? Recreate that night at the bar, minus the urinal?”

Eddie moves her arms from his vicinity, putting a necessary space between them. “Um, n-nah. No thanks,” he clarifies. “I’m, uh, kinda involved with someone, so…”

She remains undaunted, a small chuckle escaping her throat. “I can keep a secret. She doesn’t have to know.” She takes another step forward to close the gap, and he’s so goddamn tempted, but he shakes it off. He doesn’t have a clue what’s going to happen between you and him, but he knows he’s not going to sabotage any potential relationship.

“Well, I’ll know,” he retorts, “and I’ll feel like shit about it.”

Lisa rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Your loss.” She pivots on one heel and mumbles something under her breath that Eddie doesn’t even bother to interpret.

Jeff looks at Eddie with an amused grin as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. “So, you’re involved with someone?” He knows from what Jess has told him that Eddie went on a date with you a few days ago, but he couldn’t gauge the seriousness of the situation.

“I think so. At least, I was, until about fifteen minutes ago.” He relents and fills Jeff in about everything that happened, from your conversation over steaming coffee mugs, to the amazing kiss you’d shared as snowflakes collected on your eyelashes, to the unexpected confrontation after Grandma’s funeral today.

Jeff sighs, but it’s one of sympathy, not exasperation. “You did the right thing,” he says finally.

“I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeff laughs, punching him playfully on the arm. “I’m serious. And you did the right thing just now, too, with that groupie.” He clears his throat. “Viv’s baby shower is in a couple weeks. Ladies only, y’know, but I could use some help loading all the gifts into the car. And we could grab some lunch beforehand, if you want.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, that would be great. Might have to let Harris tag along, if that’s all right.” He doesn’t want to keep asking Wayne to babysit, no matter how much the old man insists that he doesn’t mind.

“Of course. You know that little man is always welcome.” Jeff says, walking towards the register. “I’ll call you with the details.”

Eddie hesitates, letting his friend pass him by a few paces before he calls out. “Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“What do I do about…” Eddie trails off, unwilling to finish his sentence. He feels absolutely ridiculous having this conversation in the middle of the drugstore, but he’s desperate not to fuck this up further.

Jeff scratches at his stubble with his free hand, contemplating the options as only someone who’s been in a long-term relationship and hasn’t had to navigate the nuances of a fresh relationship in ages can. “Give her some time; a few days, at least. She’s going through a lot. She needs her space, y’know, to figure things out.”

It’s not the answer Eddie was hoping for; patience has never been his forte. He wishes that Jeff would have told him to chase after you, to go get the girl and make sure she knows how much she means to him. But he knows that his friend is right, and he acknowledges his response with a small smile. “Thanks, man.”

“See ya around, Ed.”

Eddie unlocks his apartment door, new pack of cigarettes in one hand and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s tucked under the other arm. He doesn’t usually splurge on ice cream, but every romantic comedy cliche has instructed him that it’s the perfect remedy for heartbreak. If that’s even what this is, he thinks, but he knows it’s true. After doing everything in his power to prevent it, he’d allowed you to break his heart. And as he shoves a spoon into the container of Devil’s Food Chocolate, it dawns on him that he’d do it all again.

He’d come to your rescue and pick the lock of Grandma’s bedroom door. He’d sit around the table and eat pizza with you, Harris, and Grandma every Wednesday night. He’d drive to your house with store-brand cookies and watch cheesy Thanksgiving movies with you just to see the smile on your face. He’d take you out for coffee and kiss you in the snow a thousand times over. And he’d go to Grandma’s funeral and drive you home and turn down your offer for sex and break his own fucking heart again and again if it meant protecting you.

He shimmies out of his starchy dress pants and unbuttons his shirt, leaving himself in just a white undershirt and his boxers as he sinks deeper into the sofa. He reaches over for the remote–now that he works when Harris is in school, he rarely has time to watch something that he actually enjoys–and notices the phone’s red flashing light indicating that he has a new voicemail.

He presses play with a clumsy finger on the button, expecting Wayne’s gruff voice or a reminder for an overdue bill. When he hears that it’s you, he sits up straight, nearly dropping his ice cream.

“Hi, Eddie. It’s me. I’m so sorry for what happened earlier. I’m sure you’re probably mad, but I just want you to know…it wouldn’t have been meaningless. It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless.” You take a deep breath. “I’m going back home for the holidays. Um, I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back, but before I leave, I had to apologize for what I said. You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that. Have, um, have a nice holiday. Okay, bye.”

Eddie remains still, a loud silence enveloping the room once the machine relays that he’s reached the end of new messages. He’s dissecting every word you’d uttered, replaying them over and over. 

It wasn’t meaningless the night we met when it was supposed to be meaningless. 

So you’d felt it, too; that spark much stronger than the usual lust that overcomes him during hookups. And while he’d tried to convince himself that he’d only asked you to cuddle, had you stay over out of post-sex, post-show delirium, he can’t deny the truth any longer.

He’d asked because he felt comfortable around you, like he could hold you forever and whisper secrets that scare him to even admit to himself. Maybe it was because you’d seen Harris’s car seat that night and hadn’t run for the hills, or maybe it was the way you’d kissed him like he was worth savoring. And the morning after, when he’d all but chased you out of the apartment…Christ, you didn’t deserve that.

I’m not sure when…if…I’m coming back. 

The ‘when’ he could handle, but that ‘if’ was a weight on his chest. He questions his actions for a moment–should he have slept with you? Showed you how wanted and cherished and safe you were with him? Given your mind a chance to wander from the grief choking it? But Jeff said he had done the right thing, and considering the man was engaged with a baby on the way, Eddie figured he had to know something about women.

You’re a great guy, Eddie. I hope you know that.

Is he? He’s certainly a better man than when you’d first met him, but is he actually a great guy? He’d bought you coffee and didn’t fuck you when you were too vulnerable to truly consent–is that what constitutes greatness, or is he just a step above a piece of shit?

And, of course, part of him is angry. Not only because you were so easily willing to use him–although that realization definitely stings–but mostly because you’d thought he’d want to. After everything you two had been through, did you truly believe that he’d be unbothered? That he’d throw away all of that progress just to get his dick wet? Is that how little you think of him? Eddie doesn’t want the answer.  

The ice cream is melting, so he forgoes the spoon and just takes a swig from the pint. He licks the chocolatey residue from his lips before standing up to put the carton in the freezer. Tacked onto the refrigerator is Harris’s picture from Halloween where Eddie and Ms. Sweetheart are holding hands.

He plucks it from under the magnet, staring at it intently. The memory of his son and his uncle asking him about you, that pretty like a princess remark, the unfurling realization that he felt things for you that he’d thought he was incapable of feeling. He never should have taken their ribbings, inadvertently getting his hopes up that there was something there worth pursuing.

Without thinking, Eddie crumples the paper in his fist, crushing the family portrait into a ball. “Shit,” he mutters, placing it on the table and smoothing it out as best as he can. His hands glide over the drawing, rubbing over every crease until it looks good as new and Harris will be none the wiser.

But Eddie knows what’s been destroyed. What he doesn’t know is whether or not it can be smoothed out.

--

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 9.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of forceful behaviour towards women, bad family dynamics

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n has no idea what is happening. Currently, there are two elder women around her who undressed her, redressed her and now are pulling her hair and painting her face. And by painting her face, it must be clarified that they don't put pretty delicate makeup on her but that they draw bright red lines on her face, arms, and legs. It looks like full-body war paint, y/n thinks.

Also, y/n is not convinced by the outfit they put her in. It's a two-piece. A loose neck holder top ends only a few inches under her boobs. She's also wearing a floor-length skirt. However, she's not sure if the word 'skirt' fits the piece of clothing around her hips. Two long pieces of fabric are strung in multiple hold chains that sit tightly around her hips. One piece covers her backside, the other the front side.

The squishy part of her tummy and her belly button, as well as her arms and legs, remain uncovered. Y/n usually feels comfortable in her body but it's a bit too revealing. At least for this weather. Also, she's a bit scared her butt cheeks can be seen when she's walking.

She tries not to think about it too hard since the two women working on her hair are wearing similar clothes. It seems as if this is normal for women around here, even if they are a gazillion years old.

The women don't speak to her. Also, they don't speak to each other.

When Katsuki left her alone with them, y/n felt a bit relieved since this was the first female company she had in a long while. But now she just feels awkward.

The women braid her hair and pin it up in a lavish updo which y/n finds very pretty. When they're done, they decorate her hair with golden hairpins and put necklaces around her neck that look similar to Katsuki's. They also want to put earrings on her but y/n doesn't have her ears pierced so they leave them as they are.

Absently, y/n massages her earlobes. She wonders if they'd like to pierce them. They have multiple piercings and also Katsuki wears earrings. She's also positive that she saw men with piercings in their noses and other places in their faces yesterday.

She shudders. It's against the beliefs of her people. Her people believe that one is born by nature's divine design and altering your body by piercinging or tattooing it, is a heavy insult to the great being of things. Some even refuse makeup and say it's not how nature wants them to look. Y/n isn't so strict about that but also wouldn't usually wear any form of paint on her body.

All of this feels so very foreign to y/n. Of course, she knew that Katsuki must live a different way of life but when being with him, that rarely became apparent. This outfit makes it painfully aware of just how different their cultures are.

Somewhen, Katsuki reenters the tent again. He wears a similar body paint as her. He lost the cape and more necklaces than usually hang around his neck. He also wears a bunch of bracelets, he usually doesn't wear.

When the ladies are done with y/n, they present her to him. Y/n gets up from where she is seated and gives him an unsure smile.

His eyes run up and down her figure. He has a stern look on his face the entire time, but he gives her an approving nod. Then he steps closer to her and pulls a delicate chain from his pocket. Carefully, he places it on her head.

Immediately, the women step closer and pin it into place. Y/n touches it carefully. The chain is thin with strings of golden beads. In the middle of her forehead dangles a drop-shaped pendant in a rubyred shade.

Katsuki puts a hand on her shoulder. The weight from his arm grounds her. She didn't notice how shaky her breath was.

The funny thing is, she doesn't even know what this is all about or what will happen when they leave the tent. Based on the outfits and Katsuki's grim expression, it must be something meaningful, something big.

She wonders if he drags her down an aisle. Figuratively speaking, because her people don't marry in churches where you would have to walk down an aisle. Her people marry in lakes and rivers or creeks. They believe all life comes from water and therefore they tie their lives together in it.

Y/n is pretty sure, she would refuse to step in a lake around here. It's just too cold for swimming on the tip of a mountain. She wonders if she'd walk down an aisle with Katsukin if that's what is going to happen today.

Anxiety chews at the sides of her stomach. Truth is, she doesn't want to get married. She wants to be with Katsuki, yes, but again in her culture that doesn't mean one just immediately marries. Y/n thinks that a challenge or crisis must be overcome first before two people can truly know that they belong together. That hasn't happened so far.

She needs more time and she doesn't know if Katsuki or his people are going to give her more time.

The two women leave the tent and Katsuki and y/n remain alone. Katsuki steps a bit closer and carefully puts his hand on the side of her head. He leans closer and puts his forehead against hers. The pendant presses into the skin of y/n's head and it doesn't feel as reassuring as it probably should feel.

Y/n swallows hard.

Katsuki leans back and stares into her eyes. The red of his eyes looks particularly hard today.

Meanwhile, Katsuki can see the fear in y/n's eyes. He wants to explain to her what they will do today but he knows he can't. It makes him angry he's never been taught the common tongue. His mother was traditional like that.

He is racking his brain for any words or sentences he picked up. Unfortunately, most of the things he learned, he picked up in battle or from captives or the women they took. He doubts however that things like "die", "you bastards" or "please, no" will be reassuring to y/n.

"Okay?", he tries, the word feeling foreign on his tongue. He holds out his hand to her. Y/n stares at his hand, then at him. She takes a deep breath. "Okay", she whispers and takes his hand.

*~*~*~*~

Katsuki takes her to the bonfire square. It's where his mother, her ladies-in-waiting, and the rest of his people wait for them.

He's as anxious as y/n looks like. He has to admit that while y/n looks absolutely stunning in his tribe's clothes and paint, she also looks smaller and weaker than ever. He tells himself that things will be alright. That even if his mother doesn't approve, he can take her on as his mate anyway. He's chief, he makes the decisions.

But deep down, every child wants to please their parents. And Katsuki looks up to his mother. She's fierce, she's strong and the only reason he's chief to begin with is only because she stepped down after the plague. Some people blamed her for it even though everybody knows that it's not something a human being can control. Maybe that is why she feels so strongly about Katsuki taking on a good mate that will produce lots of offspring.

Katsuki shudders even though he's not cold. He looks at y/n who is also shivering. He holds her hand a bit tighter. Y/n looks up to him and gives him a small smile.

At least she doesn't despise me and comes along willingly, he thinks.

The past few presentations since the plague have been anything than pretty and joyful. After raids, men brought women from other places. Women that didn't want to be there. It was either impossible to make them look presentable due to them fighting it or the paint on their faces was ruined by the time they stepped in front of Katsuki.

Usually, his men have to present their future mates in front of the chief and he has to decide whether they are acceptable or not. Since he's chief, it's his mother who will do the presentation. In contrast to Katsuki's decision, his mother's is completely representative and meaningless. He's chief after all. And still, he feels like he needs his mother's approval. Maybe part of him is afraid that his people won't respect him or his mate when she doesn't approve of her.

They approach the square. His people are lined up at the side desperate to get a view of the woman Katsuki brings along. His mother and her ladies-in-waiting are sitting at the other end of the square.

Katsuki can feel y/n stiffen at his side. He gives her a glance and can see how her face is pale beneath the red paint on her face. She's not shaking anymore but her muscles are tightened to a point where they will probably ache tomorrow.

He links her arms with his and proudly struts along the square. He tries not to walk too fast so that she doesn't stumble over her feet. He's seen women stumble and fall on their presentation and it was always humiliating for her and the man. Of course worse are the cases where they have to be dragged or carried into the square while crying and loudly protesting.

Quickly, he tries to shut out these thoughts. This is different, y/n's different. She's coming willingly, she's looking more than just presentable, things will be fine.

He steps in front of his mother who looks at him with a hard stare. She doesn't even spare y/n a glance.

„Mother, I present to you the woman I have chosen as my mate.“, he tells her. His voice sounds hard and determined.

His mother sits up more straightly. Her eyes shift from him to y/n. Katsuki doesn't dare to look at y/n. He just hopes she holds eye contact with his mother. His mother, Mistuki, looks y/n up and down.

Then she stands up and walks up to the couple. Gently, Katsuki lets go off y/n's arm and takes a step to the side.

His mother circles y/n while examining the woman infront of her. She lifts y/n's skirt a bit and peers under it. She touches her hair and the necklaces that dangle around her neck.

„She's skinny.“, Mitsuki comments. Katsuki stays silent. His mother stops infront of y/n and looks her up and down again.

„She has no muscle mass whatsoever. Can she even carry a bucket of water from the creek to your tent?“, his mother continues.

„She arrived yesterday. I'm sure she can build up muscles over time.“, Katsuki answers her calmly.

Mitsuki cocks her head to the side.

„Can she? She looks cold. She might also freeze before she even finds her way back to your tent.“, his mother continues.

„I get her warmer clothes.“, Katsuki argues.

His mother gives him a glance.

„Sure, sure. You can. But what if she catches a cold? Is she sustainable enough to survive that? To survive childbirth?“, his mother asks frowning.

Katsuki steps closer again and pushes y/n's top to the side a bit.

„When we met, she had an arrow stuck in her shoulder. Look, it healed quickly and without infection. I'm sure she can heal well after giving birth.“, he explains.

„Struck by an arrow?“, his mother says with a raised eyebrow and Katsuki instantly regrets mentioning it.

„That means she lost a fight? Are we not a tribe of warriors?“, Mitsuki asks sharply.

„It's a wound of a warrior. I've been struck by arrows before. Are you saying I'm not a warrior?“, he bites back.

His mother gives him a long stare before returning to her seat. She leans her head onto her arm and runs a hand over her face. He knows what comes next.

„I don't approve.“, she says and Katsuki's face twists in anger. Whispers run through the crowd.

Before he can answer her, Mitsuki continues.

„Katsuki, you understand you are our leader, yes? You understand that it is necessary that you have plenty and healthy children, yes?“, she points out angrily.

„Of course, mother. I intend to ensure our tribe's survival in any way I can.“, he tells her calmly.

Mitsuki slams her fist down and stands up.

„Then, why are you intending to bond to this frail excuse of a female? Why do you not wait until one of our own is of age?“, his mother says loudly pointing towards a few girls at the age of 10-12 at the side next to her ladies-in-waiting.

„The longer I wait or any man of this tribe waits, the bigger the gap between the generations will get. This poses a threat to our tribe. You know that. It's why we began bringing in women from other places in the first place.“, he argues back angrily.

„Wrong“, his mother says cooly, „We began bringing other women here because so many of us died that even the next generation of women can't ensure the tribe's survival.“

Katsuki grinds his teeth. She's not wrong.

„Do you know what kind of insult this is to these women? That their leader chooses a foreign, weak female like that over them?“, his mother continues and gives y/n a demeaning gesture.

Katsuki starts to see red.

„They're not women, they're children, mother. Do you intend to make one of them my child bride? Isn't that an insult to their mothers who died? Is that all they're worth?“, he yells at her.

He knows that will hit a sore spot. His mother cares deeply for these young girls and grieves the death of their mothers equally as deeply.

Absolute silence engulfs the square. No one dares to even move a finger. His mother gives him a long, cold stare. Then she sits down again.

„You're chief, Katsuki. Do whatever you want, but I'll warn you. Your example will precede this tribe. If you fail to produce an heir, this tribe will not survive under your reign.“, she tells him.

Katsuki is fuming. He wants to yell at her, maybe even throw a knife at her. But people are watching and he has to be careful what he says next. He must strengthen his position as chief even if that means demeaning his own mother.

„You've brought this fate upon us in the first place. Why do you think you have the answer to how we ensure our survival? Didn't you step down because you don't have the answer?“, he says striking to kill.

His mother's face contorts in anger and shame. He doesn't give her a chance to reply. He turns to his people.

„This woman came here by her own free will. She's proven herself a great healer and skilled hunter to me. You all feasted on her success at yesterday's bonfire. Therefore, I approve her of being worthy as my mate.“, he declares to them.

Without waiting for a reaction from his people or his mother, he turns around grabbing y/n's arm and he leaves the square with his head held high.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n stumbles after Katsuki. Her head spins. The last few minutes have been nothing but bizarre to her. Obviously, she didn't understand a single thing that's been said but y/n isn't stupid. She quickly picked up on the atmosphere of the conversation. Which was not good.

Even before Katsuki and the women started yelling at each other, y/n knew that the conversation was not going well. It's easy to spot when Katsuki gets angry. Really angry, not the normal state of angry he always seems to be in.

Katsuki walks fast and y/n has trouble keeping up with him. He drags her all the way back to his tent. Only when they're inside, does Katsuki let go of her. He doesn't say a word.

He walks over to the table and pushes it over with a loud, angry yell. Y/n flinches at the action.

Katsuki kicks a bucket filled with weapons to the other side of the room and lets out a string of angry words that y/n guesses are insults.

She's never seen him this angry before and it scares her. She wants to get closer to him, put a hand on his shoulder, and comfort him in his frustration. But when Katsuki starts destroying one of the chairs with a battle axe, y/n is sure it's best to not get close to him at this moment.

So, she stands helplessly in the middle of the room flinching and trying to avoid flying splinters of wood.

Suddenly, there's a rustle at the entrance of the tent. A red-haired warrior enters it.

„Yo, Bakugou!“, the man says carefully and steps next to y/n.

„What the fuck do you want, shitty hair?“, Katsuki yells at him, his face contorted in anger.

„Making sure you don't scare the poor thing to death.“, the man says and points towards y/n.

„Fuck off, Kirishima. She's fine.“, Katsuki growls at him

The man named Kirishima sighs and gives y/n a side glance.

„You sure? She doesn't look too happy about this. You still have to mark her, maybe tune it down a bit until then.“, Kirishima tells his chief.

Katsuki drops the bits of wood he is holding and frowns.

„Whatever, shitty hair. What do you want?“, Katsuki asks.

Kirishima pushes his hands into his pockets.

„Looking if you're alright. I mean the presentation went... not well, I guess.“, the red-haired man says carefully.

Katsuki scoffs. „I'm fine. The hag's opinion doesn't matter. I'm chief.“, he declares.

Kirishima nods. „Of course, you are. And your decision stands.“, he reassures his leader.

„And if you ask me, I think you made a good choice.“, Kirishima continues.

„From all the women that we brought here over the last few years, that one is definitely the calmest. Remember when I brought mine? She was a mess, well, actually still is but I don't need to tell you that.“, Kirishima tries to reassure him.

When Katsuki doesn't answer, Kirishima quickly adds: „Also, she's very pretty.“.

Katsuki straightens his posture and looks y/n up and down.

„Yeah, she is.“, he tells his red-haired friend.

Kirishima nods cheerily. „Exactly. So why bother thinking about your mother's words? Why don't you and... uh...?“, Kirishima gestures towards y/n.

„Y/n“, Katsuki tells him.

„Right, why don't you and y/n come and join us at the stables? Denki, Sero, and I are heating up some mead. Have a drink with us.“, Kirishima proposes.

Katsuki shrugs. „I don't know. Y/n might not feel comfortable meeting more people after this.“, Katsuki tries to excuse himself.

Kirishima gives him a toothy grin. „Oh, what a gentleman. You're really smitten, aren't you?“, he teases.

Katsuki shoots him an angry look. „Shut the fuck up, Kirishima. It's just been a lot, ok?“, he mumbles.

Kirishima doesn't fail to notice the pink dust covering his chief's cheeks.

„Alright, what about this. Y/n stays here and can collect herself. You come with us for a drink. Maybe we can come back and catch her later. What do you think?“, Kirishima tries to convince him again.

Katsuki shrugs.

„I guess we can do that.“, Katsuki says reluctantly.

„Great!“; Kirishima says clapping his hands. „Y/n, you stay! We'll come back later.“, he tells the woman next to him who looks at him with wide eyes when he speaks directly to her.

Katsuki steps over the destroyed chair and follows his friend outside without sparing y/n a glance.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Y/n feels like crying. She's standing in the middle of the half-destroyed room all alone. She's so confused.

What on earth happened?

What's going on?

Who is that red-haired man?

Where is Katsuki going?

Her head starts to hurt by the amount of force she uses to suppress her tears. Eventually, she can't hold them back anymore and hot tears run down her face.

She makes sure that no one can hear her sob.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Tag list: @graviewaviee @cosmicbreathe @tsukikoxo @nnubee @witchbishsblog @elajede @bsallergy @frxcless @berryvioo @eyesforbkg @shamelesjaroflaffytaffy @pastelbaby1111 @iamlizardgod @plvt0fvtvre @hello-peanutdoodle-blog @guccirosegold @kookiemyfeelsposts @sweetblueworm @54fangirl @sakurarr1122 @rv19 @leeliyah @king-dynamight @confused-smol-fan @xmaudx @waterstarz @pinkwhiskerglitter @adeline96 @zoom1374 @fingui @giuli-in-earth @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @futuristicallykawaiiturtle @tragedyofabrokensoul @dynakats @rebel-loves-anime @cloudxluv @itsssyagurll @sunshineandwitchery @cloudxluv @hollykanuki @atouchofmidnight @nutellaenjoyer @musicbecky @miacitocco @cassouandco @penguinlovestowrite @sleepykittycx @bakugouswh0r3 @xxjesshuxx @helenamaximoff @ssssssws-world @k1tk4tkatsuki @gh0stgirl333 @anon-mouse223 @bexxs @i-am-ms-rebel-heart @wannabeisekai @spragaraga @faemagic88 @kolakoke @faetoraa @cax-per @willy-the-witch @stardream14 @jiyuu-da @mintytalesblog @sparklyoperaroadpie @musicbecky @maria-patricia @mistermemister @katsukismrs @l0kisbitch @bakukiriswife @rebel-loves-anime @drink-water-456

@spragaraga @fudo-aki @stillcrazystacey @bakkusimpp @itsiambaby @leelee28901 @angie-1306 @miniaturebouquet @skibbiescoober @weebperson2003 @maria-patricia @alicecil87 @darlink-xoxo @novthewolf @berryvioo @all-in-the-fandoms @deftonianfr @faemagic88 @l-bozo-l @kolakoke @stxrrielle @gold24fish @notsaelty

[Please comment beneath the last update if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters]

#mha fantasy au #mha bakugou #mha #mha x reader #mha x y/n #barbarian bakugo x reader #barbarian bakugou katsuki #barbarian bakugou imagine #barbarian bakugou x reader #barbarian bakugou #fantasy!au bakugou #bakugou katsuki imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fantasy au #bnha bakugou #bnha

[ficnation]

Chapter 4: Bon Appétit

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings, 18+, SMUT A/n: I'm really putting off the inevitable here sksksksk. Enjoy and let me know your thoughts <3 Btw this is my first time writing explicit smut (unedited)

This is also another late piece to @the-slumberparty Bingo Card event (prompt: proposal) - > Events Masterlist

Main Masterlist || Hannibal Masterlist

PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

When Will comes home that night after promising you he’ll only be gone for a few hours, he’s doing anything in his power not to look you in the eyes. He kept his word, coming back exactly three hours and twenty-six minutes later. You stare at him, intrigued. You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, but your mind screams at you that it can’t be anything good—it’s right, like always.

“I resumed my therapy with Doctor Hannibal Lecter,” he informs you after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. He still doesn’t look at you, as he takes off his jacket and boots.

“You did what?” You blink at him in confusion—utterly dumbfounded. The meaning of his words doesn’t even register in your brain. 

“I’m going to keep on seeing Hannibal,” Will repeats in the same monotonous voice.

It hits you like a train, and your stomach churns at the thought of them sitting across from each other, talking about emotions and Will’s life. Your expression turns to one of disapproval as the man expected.

“After everything he’s done, after everything he put you through, why would you do that?”

Will doesn’t respond right away, and you can tell he’s struggling with his words. “There are things I need to learn about myself,” he says finally. “About what it’s like to be me.”

You stare at him, burning invisible holes in his head, trying to decipher what is truly happening here. The guilt that emanates from his person, the fact that he still can’t meet your gaze—it’s more than suspicious. The realization hits you even harder than the fact he wants to be anywhere near Hannibal Lecter.

“Why are you lying to me?” you ask, voice on the verge of breaking. You hate yourself for ever thinking that he trusts you completely after all those years apart. The tears gathering in your eyes are more angry than sorrowful.

For a moment, Will goes silent. The silence is thick, full of tension as the two of you remain in your positions—you watching him, and him with his back turned to you.

Then, he closes his eyes tightly, as if fighting against a headache. He finally speaks, but only after turning slowly to face you. You immediately notice the pained expression on his face, the guilt that drips from his very skin.

“I have to keep seeing him.”

You go to protest again, but the sound of your voice cracks, and no words emerge. Will doesn’t wish to ever hear this noise from you again. It feels criminal—being the one who caused it. His heart breaks in a way it never did before—it stings like someone delivered it one thousand cuts.

You both remain silent for what feels like an eternity. Will doesn’t look away from you, and your eyes are locked on him, on that misery and pain staring right at you. No one moves, no one blinks, no one probably even breathes. Everything is still, except for your heart which aches even worse than it did before. The silence gets so thick you can almost feel it—touch it. For the life of you, you don’t want to be the one to break it.

You want to speak, beg, convince him to stop these mind games, to give you an explanation you could understand. But you choose to keep your mouth shut, slumping further into the cushions of the armchair. 

Will’s eyes don’t leave you. They remain fixed on you as if willing you to speak, to tell him something that would make all of this suddenly go away. Anything.

He wants you to read his mind, and understand his pleas, but you can’t— and even if you could, you wouldn’t. You don’t do anything, don’t even move a muscle and after a few moments of waiting, Will finally breaks the silence.

“I don’t want him to do this to anyone else,” he says. His words are soft and quiet, but they carry a weight that you feel in your chest.

“Yet you didn’t start with that. You chose to lie.” 

Will sighs. He looks exhausted as if you’ve been here asking him questions for hours, even though it’s been twenty minutes at most.

“I didn’t want you to stop me. There, I said it,” he says. “It was hard. Harder than anything I’ve ever done. Can you just cut me some slack over here?”

You don’t answer right away. You don’t know what to think or what to say about this whole situation. It seems absurd, and you have to remind yourself that you might’ve paused your story with Will Graham, but for him time has passed, things have changed.

You’re not proud of the words that leave you next. God, you wish you could just catch them in the air before they have a chance to reach his ears and put them back in your mouth.

“Change your fucking tone, Will.”

You’re shocked with your own words, but Will doesn’t seem annoyed or offended, not like most people would. He’s still staring at you, but you notice the slightest hint of amusement in his expression as if this new side of you intrigued him rather than annoyed him.

“You don’t like me speaking to you like that, my dear?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He makes no attempts to sound serious—just enough to make you laugh, but his words carry weight. He’s genuinely curious.

Will Graham just called you “my dear” and your whole face warms up at this term of endearment as you observe him fall to one knee in front of your person.

“What are you doing?” you choke out, confused, butterflies fluttering wildly in your chest.

Will takes his time to reply, his eyes scanning you and your reactions. He seems to enjoy the sight of you flustered, barely keeping up with what’s happening right in front of your face. His heart skips a beat more than twice in the span of a few seconds.

“I’m proposing.”

The words seem so absurd that you half expect him to break the tension with a quick joke, but he doesn’t. His gaze is glued to you, his words as serious as they can be. You don’t know what to say, don’t know how to react. Your mind is frozen.

“What the fuck, Will?”

Will grins at that and shakes his head as if he’d expected your reaction to be no different. He keeps his stance, one knee on the floor, as he stares at you affectionately—with so much love you’re surprised he doesn’t explode from it. The man is enjoying your confusion and the fact that he managed to pull it out of you. He’s not ashamed to admit it, either.

“That’s the kind of reaction I was hoping for,” he says quietly and in a matter of time, his hand is on your thigh, tracing invisible circles on the soft fabric of your pajama pants. “You were always going to say no for the first time.”

You blink at him, trying to coax out words from within you, but you don’t find any. That only makes you even more confused, and your expression turns to a frown. Is he really… asking you to marry him?

“I know, I’m quite the romantic.” He pauses, trying to stifle his chuckle. “Do you want me to ask you the usual way?”

“Will, are you serious?” you ask, your voice so gentle the words barely sound like they’re yours. Will only nods his head. “I don’t want you to ask at all. I want us to get married as soon as possible.”

He reaches down to grab your hands in his. “I never believed in marriage. I’m not sure if I do now either,” he admits awkwardly, playing with your fingers. “But I really want to hear people call you Mrs. Graham.”

Your heart jumps as he speaks as if you’d been waiting for him to admit those words for years. The words sink in slowly and your eyes become distant, as if you’d been taken back in time. A warm feeling spreads across your chest like you just swallowed a whole bottle of wine in one ginormous gulp.

“You know I can’t say no.” Your words are quiet and soft. He pulls you down onto his lap, his hands still around your fingers as he brings them to his chest. “Can I call you mine too?” 

“Always,” Will replies, his voice low and quiet, but full of love and emotion. “It’s been you all along.”

A soft smile rests on your face as you look down at him. Your head is right above his, but you decide to close the tiny distance between you by leaning forward and pressing your lips against his. You feel your heart race as you do so.

“Did you come up with this to distract me?” Your voice is playful, but the air around you is thick and humid. 

Will leans forward and wraps his arms snugly around your waist, hugging you tight. Your fingers play with his curls, his head back on your chest. The whole weight of him hangs onto you like all the sins in the world, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Maybe,” he replies, a smile tugging at his lips, even though he seems serious.

You can feel his body shift, and suddenly Will presses you firmly against the growing hardness inside his jeans. The whimper that pushes past your lips as you feel it through the thin layer of your pajama pants is downright desperate. You both can’t hide the fact that your breaths are becoming more irregular, muscles tensing under each other’s hands.

“I like being distracted like this,” you whisper, your nose nuzzling against his temple. 

A low growl comes from the man’s chest. You’re close enough to the source of the sound to feel the vibration against your body. He presses his face to your neck, taking in the scent of your skin like he’s oxygen-deprived.

“Should I distract you too, Will?” you ask him quietly, tugging at his tousled hair.

“You’ve done enough, dear. I’m already distracted.” His voice is soft, and his words catch in his throat. Will doesn’t seem to have a single rational thought going through his head. It’s like all he can process is his need for you, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say this was a spell cast on him. “I want you.” His hand moves to your hip, and he presses into you harder, your breath catching in your throat. “Please.”

And who are you to deny him of anything his soul could ever want or need? You don’t wait for more encouragement as your fingers start working on hastily unbuttoning his shirt. They trace the smooth lines of his chest, the scars that mark his skin, and every little detail of him—every part of his history that he once saw as a defect. It’s not. It’s who he is, who he’s always been—his past is a part of what made him the Will you know and love. 

Your fingers slowly make their way down to his belt and unclasp it too in one go. You graze over his hardness on accident, already feeling its heat through the thin layer. You let out a whimper and your whole brain starts to short-circuit. 

“Slowly.” Will’s voice is hoarse and raw, his fingers digging deeply into the skin of your hip. “I want to see you.”

The man doesn’t waste any time in waiting for your reaction as his hand moves up to your face. His touch is gentle as it pushes back your hair, his fingertips rubbing against the skin behind your ear before they start pursuing the shape of your neck—every muscle and tendon.

“Slowly,” he repeats, and you can’t help but groan.

Nevertheless, you obey, letting your hands explore every surface of his flesh again like he’s the perfect puzzle that you need to solve. His own mirror yours, sliding below the thin layer of your t-shirt, grazing over your navel, and pushing upwards.

Every move you make leaves its mark, causing his body to tremble even more. His breath becomes so uneven, you think he might fall apart at any moment. The mere sound sends shivers down your spine.

“Yes, like that,” he mumbles, and his lips are right next to your ear as he whispers these words. His hand moves again and starts to tug at your shirt.

You help him remove it in one go, left in only your plaid pajama bottoms. Will’s touch is familiar, one you could never forget—not like the dozen strangers through the past few years, you never even remembered their faces come tomorrow morning. But his touch sets you ablaze—burns and soothes at the same time, it’s unforgettable.

Will reaches up to pull your head against his so that you’re staring straight at one another. His touch is gentle, but there’s an intensity to it that you can’t mistake. His lips slowly approach yours with such an intense need that you can read it in his gaze. Even though he doesn’t say it, you feel that this kiss is more than just desire—it’s a need to be as close to you as possible, to never let you go again. His tongue delves inside your mouth, and you sigh into it.

The feeling of your skin pressed against his leaves Will desperate, his mind so overwhelmed and in a haze, he can’t even form the words to describe the sensation. His hand keeps moving as if your flesh were an addiction. The sound that leaves from his throat is something so close to a purr—he’s almost embarrassed. 

You feel his body tensing, his muscles flexing against yours, and your skin feels hot and all too sensitive. He’s taking advantage of this moment to touch you anywhere he can reach. His fingers leave no inch of your skin unexplored as he slowly begins to lower your pajama bottoms.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The sound of your voice draws Will’s eyes closed as he inhales deeply.

Will’s fingers glide down toward your legs, and he looks as if all his dreams are coming true at once. You see his eyes flicker open, and he looks at you with such intensity, such concentration, that it’s hard to breathe as you’re pulled along by an invisible force. He finally lets go of your chin so that he can drag your pajamas down further until they’re thrown across the room. 

You take his hands in yours, placing them over your breasts. And it’s only when his teeth drag across your neck, from just above your collarbone down to the crook of your shoulder, that he loses it completely. 

There’s no being slow or gentle when he pushes you away, standing up and pulling you to your feet. You take hurried steps back as he nudges you toward the bed. Soon enough, your calves hit the mattress and you fall back onto the blue duvet. You don’t even have a chance to take a breath, Will is hovering over you, elbows on each side of your head. 

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, looking deep into your eyes—so deep you’re afraid he can see the broken soul behind them. 

You help him push his jeans and boxers down the length of his legs. The second they’re no longer an obstacle, Will’s fingers delve between your thighs, circling your clit teasingly with the gentlest of touches. Your lips part in a gasp, hands falling onto the covers to clench them in your fists.

“Will, please,” you plead between whimpers. He was the only one who could ever bring you to the point of begging, and you hope he knows it somewhere deep within. 

The man faces you with glassy eyes, swiping the tip of his tongue over his bottom lips. He doesn’t need you to say anything more, he just nods feverishly and lets your fingers guide him inside. The sensation of your heat gripping him tightly makes him groan, lips falling agape. You wrap your legs around his hips, crossing them behind his back, and pull him even closer. 

“Will,” you moan his name against his lips.

It spurs him on, makes him even more eager to please you. He draws back almost completely, then buries himself inside you again in one smooth motion. Your thighs tremble visibly, and it almost makes him smile. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, fingers tugging on his curls. 

Will rocks into you deep and steady, one of his hands digging into the meat of your thigh with so much force it hurts—but goddamn, you love this kind of pain. And he makes it feel even more heavenly when his thumb begins to trace circles over your clit.

It doesn’t take him long to take you over the edge—hard and fast—turning you into a mindless, hot, whimpering mess. You mumble his name over and over again as your heat pulses around his length, making him come just a few moments after you. He claims your mouth with his, making you taste your name on his lips. God, does it taste heavenly.

Night came quicker than you realized, covering the sky with bright stars and a full moon. Despite it, it’s not pitch black outside. The shimmering snow reflects the shining lights, fighting off the darkness well enough. It doesn’t make you feel any less threatened, even though it should.

You’re wrapped only in the blue duvet that covered the bed, as you lie on your side, facing Will, who’s already asleep. His bare thigh is right against yours, and the heat of his skin is almost impossible to resist. You let your eyes wander across his body, his physique—he looks like a sculpture, a masterpiece of flesh and bone.

Your body still aches from his touch, and you feel like you’re a puddle of emotions with the sole mission of holding love, affection, and desire for him. You’re about as far away from being “fine” as possible. You didn’t even get a chance to tell him you’ll be working together from now on. He doesn’t know he’s allowed back in BAU, and you wonder if you should leave him unknowing for as long as possible. It’s not your greatest idea, but the idea of him breaking beyond repair terrifies you.

You try to calm your heart as it races and skips a beat every time his body shifts—the smallest movement seems like it could wake him up. But as you lie there in the darkness, his hand reaches out and finds its rightful place on your thigh again, his fingers barely grazing your skin. The sensation makes you almost jump out of your skin, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Why are you awake?” he asks with half-closed eyes.

“Can’t sleep,” you reply softly, wanting to touch him back, but not sure if you should.

“I figured,” he murmurs. “You didn’t sleep much yesterday either.”

You sigh sadly, you didn’t think he’d noticed. His hand moves up your thigh, almost instinctively, until it touches you just below your hip. It stops there, and your eyelashes flutter at its warmth against your skin.

“You can touch me.” Will’s voice is so quiet it’s almost inaudible, and you don’t have to be told twice.

Your fingers slip under the duvet, so the fabric doesn’t block your touch, and you begin to trace the outline of his leg with the tips of your fingers. Will’s eyes finally open, and he looks almost nervous at the intimate touch—until you find the spot where he’s ticklish. He lets out an adorable whimper, so naturally, you laugh and keep going.

“No, no, please stop,” Will moans, trying to fight back his chuckles, squirming as he tries to get away from your touch. The whole time he’s half-smiling, his fingers digging into the duvet for stability. He tries to grab your hands, but it only makes you laugh harder. 

You find another ticklish spot on the side of his torso and continue to tease him. Eventually, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much as you watch Will scoot back, out of your reach. Your sour mood from before is gone in an instant.

Will moves up so that he’s sitting up against the wall, practically on the edge of the bed, and he looks almost offended by your reaction. Your gaze shifts, so you can get a fuller view of him.

“I’m not as ticklish as you think,” he says, his tone serious, though you can still hear a tremble in his voice. “If you wanted to see me squirm,” he adds, “you could’ve found a different method.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, and you immediately pull the sheets up to cover the bottom part of your face, trying to hide your flustered reaction from his eyes. 

“You’re so cute,” he says, his voice just a whisper, almost as if he was afraid that anything above a murmur could wake the dogs sleeping by the fireplace. “So adorable.”

Will’s hand rests on your head, his fingers playing with the strands of hair that cover your ears. You can feel him studying you—how your nose twitches and your eyes almost close as you wait for his next words. Something about it feels intimate as if he’s taking in every detail of your expression one by one. It’s been a while since he’s done that, you didn’t even realize how much you missed it.

“You can pull it down, you know,” he says playfully, his hand still in your hair. “This must be suffocating.”

“I know,” you say quietly, as you pull the sheets down from your face.

Will’s fingers interlace with yours, and you can feel his thumb circling your wrist. 

“And yes, it is a bit suffocating.” You pull the sheets down to your collarbones, and a chill runs through your body as the cold air touches your arms. “Maybe you can warm me up.” 

Will smiles—a small, sweet smile, with a bit of mischief thrown in.  “Maybe I can,” his tone is playful as he pulls you close, your cheek finding a home on his chest, right above his heart.

After a few long minutes of silence and listening to the steady drum of his heartbeat, you turn to face him, resting your chin above his pec.

“We’re back on the team, you know?” you mumble almost mindlessly.

Will looks down at you, his expression gentle as he caresses your hair. 

“I know.”

His gaze trails down your face and lingers on your lips for a brief moment before it shifts again. There are so many things Will wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it—he fears it would ruin these quiet, peaceful moments between you two.

You don’t question how he already knows that, choosing instead to voice your other thoughts—ones that’ve been on your mind almost the whole day. “What did Alana want from you?”

Will’s hand pauses against your face when you bring up her name, and for a moment he seems speechless, which is rare a thing for him.

“I…” He trails off but then speaks again as if he’s found the courage to say the words. “Alana wants me to stay away from Hannibal,” he says quietly, his fingers moving on your cheeks, your brows, your chin, as if his hand isn’t allowed to stay still for a second without touching the flesh it can. “She’s sleeping with him.”

“Why does she want you to stay away?”

“Because I tried to kill him.”

You don’t even blink at his confession, there’s no fear in your gaze—no ounce of surprise. There was a time in your life when this revelation would’ve shocked you, broken you in half, but after your father’s death, when you’re faced with it, it’s… easy to handle. Will expected this kind of indifference, he knew you well enough to know you wouldn’t judge nor be afraid.

“How?”

Will lets your question hang in the air for a long minute before he speaks. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts.

“Not by my hand—not like that,” he starts. “Hannibal has a lot of… a lot of hold over me,” he pauses again, “he made me want to do it.” It’s probably the most vulnerable, the most genuine explanation Will has given anyone. He’s speaking to you from the heart and in pure honesty. “An opportunity fell on my lap to send someone after him, so I took it.”

You nod your head in acknowledgment—it makes sense to you. “It’s a shame it didn’t work out.”

A hint of a smile appears on Will’s face. He moves his fingers to the nape of your neck and to caress the lines of your ear—it’s something he always used to do when he was thinking and you were nearby. “Alana’s very upset with me.”

Will’s other hand slides over your thigh, his fingers teasing the skin, almost as if he was trying to test it, like a cat with a piece of string. He’s still thinking when his hand starts to move upwards, closer to your hip.

“Don’t take it to heart,” you advise him, leaving a soothing peck on his jaw. It was the best you could do.

“I’m trying.” He laughs in a low rumble, his hand moving between your legs and your whole body tenses. “I’m trying,” he says again.

The touch is so soft and gentle—almost teasing, yet your body seems to be craving it. It makes him nervous, but also excited, and when he closes his eyes his head just falls back to rest against the wall, his teeth showing as he breathes in deeply.

“Would you have done this if I…” his words trail off into silence as the man doesn’t seem certain about how to finish his sentence. He looks at you, his face revealing all the questions that he doesn’t dare to ask.

You grasp his jaw between your hands, encouraging him to speak his mind, but being unconditionally patient at the same time. He tries to say something again, then changes his mind. It’s as if he’s playing a constant game with you, trying to reach into your mind without opening his mouth like most people do.

“If you…”

“If I was still the same,” he mumbles out finally.

“Will, you are still the same person. Perhaps a little more broken than before, but it’s still you.”

Will stays silent and still for a minute with his eyes closed, his hand still between your legs. The tips of his fingers keep barely touching you, almost a caress, although a bit harsher than before.  His lids flutter open, so you can see his face as it’s lit by the moonlight.

“There’s something I’d like you to promise,” he says cautiously as if every word is carefully thought out before he speaks it aloud. “Promise me that you’ll keep trusting in me... even if you don’t understand.” 

Will’s hand moves up from between your legs so that he can touch your waist and hold you in place. The fingers of his other hand stroke your face down to the side of your neck, and you can feel how your heart starts to beat faster and faster with each touch.

“I will always trust you, Will. Just never lie to me again, have a little faith in me too.”

Will lets his eyes fall down to your lips again, and he can’t help but bite his own in response. As if he was trying to hold himself together but the urge to kiss you was almost too strong, the way his gaze kept shifting. 

When his lips touch yours—it’s a long, slow kiss, deep and gentle at the same time. He holds you in place, your hips pressed against his as if he doesn’t want you to move, even a centimeter. And you don’t dream of being anywhere else but here—by his side.

“I love you, Will.”

#eat your heart out #smut #mdni #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader x will graham #hannibal lecter x will graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannigram #will graham x reader #will graham x hannibal lecter #will graham

[gloomwitchwrites]

Just Like Dad (4 of 4)

Content & Warnings: referenced military career, domestic fluff

Word Count: 957

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Checking through his daughter’s backpack strikes up a difficult conversation.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // just like dad masterlist

Price has no idea where his daughter’s disorganization from, but it certainly isn’t him.

Opening her backpack, Price cringes at the mess. It’s all crushed papers, broken pencils, scattered crayons, and food wrappers. Sighing, Price turns the backpack zipper-side down, the contents crashing to the dining room table.

She is going to sit down tonight and organize this. No exceptions.

Frowning down at the wreckage, Price begins sorting through the papers, glancing at a few just to find some order in the chaos. He picks up a piece of paper and pauses, his gaze landing on the title.

All About Me reads the top of the page.

Price smiles as he starts to read over his daughter’s answers.

Favorite color? Blue.

Favorite animal? Dragon—all capital letters with lots of exclamation points.

Happiest memory? That one just says “ghostie tree.” Her teacher will have no idea what that means, but Price knows, and he laughs so hard he almost chokes.

Price’s daughter adores Simon, and whenever he’s around, she turns into a koala, hanging off every limb. It doesn’t matter if Simon is standing or sitting down. And how does Simon feel about it? He’ll act bored, like it hardly bothers him, but then he’ll strike, tickling her until she runs away screaming only for her to return minutes later to do it all over again.

Flipping it over, Price continues to read, pausing when he reaches information about parents and guardians. This is where he slows and observers her writing. She already filled stuff out about mom, and Price knows you’d get a laugh out of her answers, but the sections about him cool his amusement.

Her answers are idyllic versions of himself, nearly whimsical in the way she describes what he does and how proud she is that he is her father. That makes him ache, brings a tightness to his chest that pushes out all other feeling. Price is proud of his work, and of his career, but it is not a beautiful thing.

It is not sweet or kind or tender.

It is rough. It is hard.

It is heartbreaking.

He has lost so many people. So many good men and women. He’s done horrible things. Stained his palms with blood. These are difficult truths he faces every day.

But there are softer moments in his career of watching those he’s mentored be promoted, of victories and celebrations, of marriages and births, and of all those he’s worked with who have gone on to lead fulfilling, happy lives.

All of that, and this isn’t what stops him.

It’s her answer to the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I want to be like my dad.

Price sighs and sets the paper down on the table.

How does he respond to that? Should he even take the initiative? Should he approach the topic at all?

Price isn’t certain.

“Daddy.”

Price starts at his daughter’s voice. He turns. She’s standing just inside the archway to the living room. She has a perplexed look on her face as she glances between him and the mess on the kitchen.

“What’ve you done with my backpack?”

Price blinks, and then chuckles. “It’s a mess, love. We’ve taught you better.” Her face flushes slightly as she slowly walks up to the table. “You’re sitting down and going through this. No exceptions.”

She nods sheepishly.

Price picks up the questionnaire. “Want to talk about this? I have to sign off on it.”

Her flush grows deeper. “Did you read it?”

“I did.”

She looks up at him expectantly and Price waits a moment to see if she’ll say anything. She doesn’t.

“You said some nice things about me,” he says softly, and she beams. It reminds him of your smile, and that melts his heart down to his toes.

“It’s true,” she says brightly, happy that he’s mentioned anything at all.

“You want to be like me?” She nods. “And what do I do?”

She blinks. “Didn’t you read what I wrote?”

Price barks a laugh. “Yes, love. I did. But I want to hear it from you.”

She squares her shoulders and looks up at him with fierce determination. “You protect people. I want to protect people.”

True. But not entirely.

“How do you think I protect people?” He can see her brain processing the question and attempting to formulate an answer. She chews on her bottom lip, shoulders sagging slightly.

“I don’t know,” she finally says. “But I know that you do. You protect me and mom.”

“That’s because you and your mother are mine to protect.”

Protect is not the right word. While his actions and the things that he does might prevent horrible things happening at a global level, doing so often results in pain and suffering. It’s just what happens even when he tries to prevent that.

“Can I not do that?” she asks.

“You can do whatever you want when you’re older.”

But military life? No. He doesn’t wish that for her, and it’s not because she’s a girl. He’d feel the same if she has been born a son. No parent wants to see their child in potential danger. Doesn’t matter what age.

“So I can be just like you?”

He wants to say “no,” but instead diverts the question elsewhere. “You can’t be anything if you don’t organize this backpack.”

She groans and starts rummaging around in the mess.

Price kisses the top of her head. When he glances up, you’re standing in the archway, a soft smile on your face. Did you hear the whole conversation? Or just the end?

You stride forward and reach out. Price meets your outstretched hand, threading his fingers with yours.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving @childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000 @cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @kittytiddywinks @berarenado @saoirse06 @ninman82 @no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @hayleybarnesx @lxblm @ferns-fics @ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @sw33tsnow @kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi @lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @nelladowney @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair

#john price imagine #john price x reader #captain john price fluff #john price fanfic #john price fanfiction #john price fic #john price fluff #captain john price x reader #john price x you #john price cod #john price x f!reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x f!reader #captain john price imagine #captain john price fanfiction #captain john price fic #captain john price fanfic #captain price fanfiction #captain price imagine #captain price fanfic #captain price fic #captain price x reader #captain price cod #captain price x you #captain price x female reader #cod fanfiction #cod fluff #cod fic #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfiction

[aloesarchives]

Can You Not? (JJK Oneshot)

Warnings: 18+ (jic), Suggestive adult content, Swearing, Female pronouns, Sexual touches but nothing too explicit, Toji being frisky and hella horny, Megumi cockblocks Toji, slight ooc Megumi, Megumi being a menace, the word ass being mentioned like 3 times.

Series: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Megumi Mom!Reader

Word Count: 1943 words

Pronouns: She/Her

Au: Reader is Megumi’s mom, is alive and well, Toji is alive and good too lol, reader is also a sorcerer but doesn’t go on many missions since she had Megumi but helps around Jujutsu Tech.

(A/N: Lastest oneshot to post in a while. I have another work that will be releasd later, hopefully. This is my first work for Jujitsu Kaisen. I apologize for any mischaracterizations with the characters!)

[Has been edited and proofread as 11/18/23 8:43pm. Banner credit: @cafekitsune]

As always, please enjoy!

It wasn’t unusual to have the house to yourself. With Toji going out on missions, and Megumi being in school for most of the day, you often found yourself always being at home by yourself. During this time, you would run some errands, some chores, or even go out for a bit to get some fresh air. Though you loved your husband and son, you also loved some alone time and it wouldn’t hurt to have it once in a while. 

Today was a little different. Toji was on a solo mission to wipe out a few curses in a town that was far from the city. The estimated completion of the mission would take about two days because of the distance and how the curses terrorized the town individually instead of in groups. But Toji being Toji, he got the mission done within six hours. For a regular grade sorcerer, it would take at least twelve hours to deal with two of these curses as these would any normal sorcerer a difficult time. But Toji doesn’t play games when it means getting a hefty paycheck for the job. With Toji's lack of a curse technique, he seemingly made himself an easy target for the curses. So he was able to draw them one by one from the specific areas of their known sightings.

Once the fifth curse dropped dead, Toji’s paycheck was secured. After receiving it from a wealthy business owner, the one who called about the town’s situation, all Toji could think about was getting home to you. He did his best to clean himself up from the stains and fluids of the now deceased curses. But there was some remaining residue and a small pungent odor that he couldn’t get rid of. Toji knew he would have to shower at home but he didn’t care because he only really thought of coming home to you. After getting dropped off home, it was around 4:30pm and he just went inside. He hears your humming in the kitchen and sees you chopping away at some vegetables, which he assumes is for dinner. As you cut away and put them in the pot, Toji can’t help but admire you. The precision in your cuts and the focus on your face as you slide the vegetables into the pot. Ugh, to him, you looked so good. Just like how he met you all those years ago when he saw you fight, you still were as beautiful as when he first laid eyes on you. And frankly, Toji thought you looked delicious as well.

After a few moments, you suddenly felt eyes on you and swiftly turned your head to meet Toji as he started walking towards you. 

“Toji! You’re home! Earlier then I was told. I thought you wouldn’t be home for at least a day or so.”

“That’s what I thought too, but the curses weren’t bad. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Toji says nonchalant as he twists his head up to crack it.

“Oh okay, Mr. big shot. We get it, not all of us have superhuman strength and heightened senses.” You joked which caused Toji to smirk. But your laughter died down and was replaced by a warm smile. You looked at him as you placed a hand on his right cheek and caressed his lip scar with your thumb gently.

“But I’m glad you came home in one piece. Well, that’s what it at least looks like on the surface. You’re not hurt anywhere, are you? I know how you are when you hide your injuries from me, Toji.” Looking at him apprehensively. 

“No, trust me. I’m not hurt. The red stains on my clothes are not my blood anyway, Hon.” He says with sight sincerity as he leans into your hand and holds it in his own. He looks at you before suddenly wrapping his strong arms around you, causing you to suck in your breath in a little bit. 

“I just wanna come home to you. That’s all I ever wanted after today. The mission wasn’t hard but I’m tired and I only wanna come back to you and this life we have together.” Leaning his head on yours softly and he slowly rubs your sides up and down.

You hum at his actions and let him relish in this state. You’re no stranger to Toji’s cocky and somewhat condescending personality. It’s something you couldn’t forget about him ever since your first encounter with this man. But you grew fond of it over time, especially when he got vulnerable around you when he told you everything about him. Now, you couldn’t imagine your husband without his cocky smirk.

The both of you stayed like this for a bit before Toji decided he wanted to dip his toes in the water. As he slowly stops rubbing your sides, he wraps his arms around you again. This time, however, you felt his right hand behind your right shoulder and his left being placed on your lower lumbar region. He was caressing the areas, his left hand getting dangerously close to your ass. 

You knew where this was going.

“Um, Toji… can’t you wait a little bit longer until nighttime? I need to watch dinner cook before it gets late.” You said hesitantly. Your face starts to warm up as that all too familiar fuzzy feeling starts to emerge itself from its depths within.

“I don’t know, Honey. It’s only for a bit, I swear. It’s just you and me in the house right now. No one will know. None of Megumi’s dogs or shadows. Hell, not even Megumi will be here for another hour or so. Just for a bit, please.”

Oh yeah, today’s the day Megumi is coming home from school. He said he’s bringing his two classmates over, Nobara and Yuuji, for dinner and to hangout. You asked him why out of curious and as he said over the phone with you, " (*deep sigh*) Mom, it’s only because they have begged me for so long. I just said I would bring them to see you once I come home on Friday. They really want to see the house and you."

“Toji please, n-not now…”

“Baby please. Just a few minutes of your time, a quickie. I promise you.”

Promise, your ass. You know your husband, and you know him well. Once you let him loose, he’s going all in until done and satisfied. He won’t stop until he gets his fill, trying more than his own damn missions. Oh, you knew because you were 110% sure that was how Megumi was conceived and born in the first place. All because of Toji’s horny primal urges, and it got worse once he was married to you.

You tried pushing Toji but knew it wouldn’t do anything given that the man was built like a concrete dam. Toji chuckles at your efforts as his right slides lower to rest comfortably on your ass. The way it rubbed and played with your flesh, your breathing was getting labored and grows heavier by the second the more he continued to play with you. You were slowly starting to become putty in his hands, literally. Toji was having too much fun enjoying putting you in such a state. He always did, the sadistic prick he is. 

“Come on, baby~~ Is that the best you can do? You’re a lot stronger than that, where did it all go? Did you need me that badly, (Y/N)?” He condescendingly says to you as you slowly start to give in to him.

He was seducing you, tempting you just to give in. While it was harmless and consensual, the hazy feeling that came with it was starting to take effect. Slowly blocking off your senses as you fail to hear the front door opening and closing. Before the two of you would go from the point of no return, in this case Toji getting a squeeze out of your ass, you heard a loud grunt at the entrance of the kitchen. Snapping out of your trance, you escape from your husband’s embrace and face where the grunt came from.

“God, can you not do that when I come home every time? I can’t believe you, Old man.”

There, you were faced with your 15 year old son, Megumi, who had a deadpan look at his face as he stared at the two of you. More so at you then Toji. Toji looked as irritated as ever while Megumi looked completely done with him.

“Megumi, Sweetie! I thought you were coming at 6:30 pm? It’s only 5:45 pm right now!” Walking over to Megumi to greet him. You were trying to calm yourself from your flustered state and welcome your son home. It always made you embarrassed when Megumi had to encounter these types of situations with you two. And to be honest, you wished your son never had to witness any of them. Meanwhile, Toji was death glaring at his own son for literally cock blocking him. 

“Yeah, but we just got done with the mission early and Gojo-Sensei said we can leave since that’s all he did for us today. Plus, Yuuji and Nobara are here with me. They're taking off their shoes and are still at the front entrance.” Megumi rubs the back of his head and pocketing his hands as he was telling you. By the way he talked and the look on his face, you knew your son was exhausted from the day. Assuming his two friends are tired as well. 

“Well Megumi, you can go upstairs and freshen up for a bit. Take your friends up to your room as well. Dinner will be ready in 45 minutes or so, I’ll come get you and friends. If you or your friends need anything, please let me know, dear. And for you, Toji, go upstairs, shower, and change into some new clean clothes. Your curse stains are starting to smell. I don’t want the house to smell like it, now go upstairs please.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Megumi gives you a small kiss on your cheek before he goes to gather his friends and head upstairs to his room. As you smile at how much your son has grown, Toji couldn’t help get more grumpy and irritated. Especially when he saw Megumi flash him a shit-eating grin before leaving the kitchen. You didn’t see it but boy, Toji did. He knew that grin from anywhere because when Megumi grins like that, he always looks like Toji no matter the nature of the shit-eating grin.

As Toji leaves you in the kitchen to let you continue making dinner, he freshens up in your shared bedroom. When he was done, he came out and was gonna join you. His hair is a little damp as he walks down the hall. Funny enough, Megumi just left his room and ran into him before Megumi could go down stairs and get some drinks.

“Oi, Megumi.”

Megumi looks up from his phone and blankly stares at his dad.

“What?”

“Listen Megumi, you didn’t have to straight up fucking cock block me like that to your mother.”

Megumi just hums and stares at him.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have if you have been successful. You didn’t have to do that to Mom. Plus, who’s fault was it that you continuously get caught? It’s definitely not me. Nor is it my problem. That’s a skill issue, Dad. Now excuse me, I need to get some drinks.” 

Megumi walks past Toji like he didn’t just scorch the hell out of his father. Toji’s mouth was agape as he stared at his son in disbelief. He sees Megumi’s figure disappear going down the stairs. Clicking his tongue, Toji mumbled under his breath.

“Little shit,” He says before he heads in the same direction.

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

(A/N: Bro, I know the ending is rushed and short but I didn't really know how to end it. I like this work but I could make the ending a but better. I might edit this work later on when I get ideas.)

Thank you for you and hope you have a good day!

#x reader #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #dad!toji #jjk megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujustsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #reader insert #toji x y/n #x y/n #x female reader #fem reader

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 12)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, drugs, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: discussions around SA triggers (mainly boundary setting, not angsty), one brief mention of a gunshot, gunshot wound, fear of punishments, hints to street crime violence, vague hints to smut

____

Hoseok watches as Taehyung gets lost in the painting, fascinated by how he repeatedly goes back and fixes each detail. It’s endearing, watching him bite his bottom lip in concentration.

“What’s that stuff you’re adding to the paint?”

“Poppyseed oil. It makes the paint dry slower.”

“You want it to dry slower?”

The younger one nods, “This way I can retouch whatever needs to be fixed without worrying about it drying.”

He hands his hyung the brush in his hand, which Hoseok swirls into the paint thinner before handing back clean.

“I didn’t know you could add stuff to the paint like that.”

“They’re called mediums. There's fast-drying ones too, which I’ll be using for the clothes and hair since I want to work in lots of separate layers for those.”

“This is already all too complicated for me.” Hoseok laughs, preferring to mindlessly watch the paint go down than think about drying times and layers.

Taehyung laughs, leaning in to give his hyung a peck on the cheek.

Jimin walks in at the exact time, smiling fondly at the scene. He brings in a platter of freshly cut fruit, most of which are Taehyung’s favorites.

“Fruit delivery!”

Hoseok brings the boy close, holding him by the waist as he opens his mouth for a piece. Taehyung follows, stopping his brushwork to be fed.

“How much longer until the painting’s done?” Jimin asks while popping a cut strawberry into the younger wolf’s mouth.

Taehyung holds up three fingers, mouth too distracted by the sweet fruit to speak.

“Three days?”

He nods.

“So three more days until you stop cooping up in here and pay more attention to me,” Jimin pouts.

“Are you actually getting jealous of Y/N’s late grandmother?” Taehyung teases, causing Hoseok to almost choke on a grape laughing.

It’s the sound again. The sound of Hoseok laughing. He seems completely oblivious as to how much it affects his packmates—how much love it fills in their hearts.

___

Jin reaches for Namjoon’s hand, attempting to soothe the worried wolf as they both wait for Jungkook to come out from his bath.

This isn’t going to be easy.

Joon says with furrowed brows alone.

He’s going to hate this.

Jin agrees with a light squeeze to his packmate’s fingers.

It wouldn’t be hard to convince an outsider that Jin and Namjoon can, in fact, read each other’s minds. Wouldn’t take much convincing at all, with how well the two communicate with just looks. But there’s no mind-reading abilities at play, just years of understanding each other.

They were the first two members of the pack, after all.

Namjoon still remembers the goosebumps on his arms when he first met Jin—it was the first time he’d ever felt the pull of a pack bond. A rush of adrenaline, serotonin, and dopamine all creating a buzzing cocktail in his body when the older wolf smiled his way.

Jin wasn’t innocent either, he knew he was riling the usually-poised Alpha up the second he looked at him. It was a fun game, teasing and taunting the big bad wolf until he was taught a lesson behind some shabby hybrid bar neither of them remember the name of anymore.

Namjoon's mind wanders back to that night, amused at the idea of telling his younger self that he’d be starting his forever family with that gorgeous man he met in a rundown dive bar—that four more wonderful hybrids would walk into their life and make them complete.

He doesn’t think he’d tell his younger version about the lab. He wouldn’t want to know.

The bathroom door opens, and both pairs of wolf eyes focus in on the youngest.

“Hey Koo” Jin says in his sweetest tone.

Jungkook flashes a toothy grin to his packmates, shuffling over to give both a chaste kiss on the lips.

“We were actually waiting for you pup, wanted to talk to you about something.”

Namjoon’s solemn tone isn’t lost on the wolf, putting him on edge as he takes his place opposite them on the bed.

“Is something wrong?” His eyes nervously dart between the two older ones.

Jin decides to take the lead, going in with as much tact as possible.

“First of all, we just want to say how happy we are that the hormones effects are wearing off on you. It’s great seeing you be yourself again...”

Namjoon jumps in, feeling Jin’s nervousness take over, “…but we do have to be mindful of our situation pup. Pushing away y/n isn’t going to do us any favors here.”

“Or Yoongi.” Jin adds.

Jungkook almost rolls his eyes, but he manages to hold back.

“I’ll behave.” He grits out halfheartedly.

“I’m going to need you to be more convincing than that Koo.”

The wolf glares at his Alpha, a sign of defiance Namjoon is not in the mood to entertain.

“Stop being bratty before I spank it out of you pup.”

Jungkook’s gaze changes in an instant. The challenging glint in his eyes is replaced with something far more devastating—hurt. Jin’s hands reach for Namjoon’s shoulder, pulling him back before the situation escalates even more.

“Why stop at a spanking? Might as well put the Obedience collar back on so you can have the docile and well behaved pup you want so badly.”

He doesn’t wait to be dismissed, almost running out of the room before the other two can see his glossy eyes.

Jin lets out a dejected sigh, “You shouldn’t have brought up punishment baby.”

Namjoon knew it was a mistake the second the words left his mouth, but it was already too late then.

“I-I know…it was just instinct.” Guilt overtakes his features, regretting not thinking twice before speaking.

The moment Jungkook looked at him with that defiant stare, he couldn’t help but respond in the way he had a thousand times before the lab. Back when punishments were just a tool for an Alpha to reign in a bratty wolf—not synonymous with physical and psychological torture.

He knows he can’t discipline his pack the way other Alphas do anymore, not when they’ve had enough punishments to last three lifetimes.

Jin tugs on the younger wolf’s sleeve, pulling him back to Earth, “Go apologize and make it up to him.”

“What if he wants space from me?”

“We’re talking about Jungkook here, your clingiest pup.”

Jin isn’t wrong. Jungkook isn’t the type to want to be left alone when he’s upset.

Namjoon follows the scent trail carefully, grimacing at the smell of salt mixed into Jungkook’s signature vanilla. Salt meant tears, and tears meant his pup was cooping himself up in some corner and sobbing. It doesn’t take the Alpha long to find which corner exactly, as the not-so-small wolf can’t exactly hide behind a dresser the way he thinks he can. But that doesn’t stop him from trying—bundled up with his knees to his chest in one of the spare bedrooms.

“Koo, sweetheart…” He keeps his voice soft.

Jungkook simply sniffles in response, not daring to look up with the wet streaks on his face. If this was Taehyung or Jimin, he’d have heard a “go away” by now. But not his Koo. Despite his willful attitude, there’s nothing Jungkook wants more than to be babied when he’s crying.

Namjoon cautiously sits in front of the boy, leaving space to keep their bodies from touching.

“Hey pup, can you look at me please.”

With his face still buried in his knees, the wolf simply shakes his head in refusal.

“I’m sorry about what I said Koo. I shouldn’t have brought up punishment…and the last thing I want is for you—or anyone—to be on those drugs again.”

“You’re lying.” Jungkook finally raises his head, eyes watery and puffy, “I was easier to deal with when I had the collar on. I know it. You know it. Everybody knows it. Hell, even I wish I could turn off all these thoughts and just behave. But I can’t…that’s not me.” His voice breaks towards the end, sobs threatening to spill from his throat.

Panic flashes on Namjoon’s face, composed demeanor becoming harder to maintain as Jungkook lays all his insecurities bare. There’s a quiet rage bubbling in his stomach—pointed a little at Kang but mainly at himself. Rage for letting Jungkook’s self esteem get to this point.

He knew from the day that Jungkook came into their lives that he’d need to be extra careful with him. Unlike the others, who jumped eagerly into his arms at the promise of a pack bond, his youngest pup was nothing but stand offish and distrustful for months.

It’s not hard to see how little love Jungkook has known prior to the pack, but things aren’t supposed to be like that anymore. Namjoon knows it’s naïve to think that all of Jungkook’s scars would be healed by now—knowing just how many he has—but wishful thinking got the better of him.

The boy in front of him looks just as insecure as he did when they first met. Except he’s not hiding it with sarcastic remarks and cold stares anymore…at least not to his packmates.

Namjoon makes sure to not let his frustration show in his words, needing to be as calm as possible to not spook the distressed boy.

“But this you is the one we fell in love with baby, how could we ever prefer any other version over it? I’ll admit you’re not the easiest pup from time to time, but I’d rather you be the most difficult wolf in the world than put that collar back on you.”

“Then why do you keep taking y/n’s side? She wants me back on the collar. I can tell. Wants me to be the sweet sweet angel they brainwashed me into being.”

“She doesn’t want you on the collar either Koo, she just doesn’t know this version of you…and you aren’t exactly letting her in either—which I know is hard for you, I understand it’s asking a lot, but I’m not doing this because I’m taking her side. I just think we have an actual shot of being happy here. You trust me, don’t you baby?”

Jungkook nods. No matter how upset he is, it’s instinct to nod when Namjoon asks that question. Of course he trusts his Alpha. He’d follow Namjoon to the ends of the world if he asked him to.

“I…I’ll try. But please…d-don’t punish me if I c-can’t.” The last part is whispered, as if it’s a shameful declaration. It is, to some extent, shameful for Jungkook to admit—that he shivers at the mention of the tamest punishments now.

Namjoon’s heart drops to his stomach at the helpless bundle of nerves in front of him.

“I won’t baby. I promise. Will you please come to me?”

Jungkook doesn’t waste time to scoot his way over, making himself small as he seeks safety in Namjoon’s embrace. Namjoon breathes a bit lighter, relieved at Jungkook’s lack of hesitation—the last thing he wants is his pup to be wary of him.

___

Hoseok looks over from one brunette to the other, both fidgeting as they try to find their words.

“What is it pups?”

Jimin clears his throat, tightening his hold on Taehyung’s arm before speaking up.

“Um..we just wanted to ask…” no matter how hard he tries, he can’t get the words out, “it’s nothing hyung! Forget about it.”  

Taehyung, although disappointed, follows in understanding. The two are ready to retreat, but their hyung isn’t having any of that.

“Wait!” their hyung pouts, not wanting to be left out, “whatever it is, you can ask me.”

“It’s selfish” Taehyung takes the words out of Jimin’s mouth.

Hoseok raises a brow, waiting for further explanation only to be met with an awkward silence.

“Since when have you two ever thought twice before asking me for things?”

It’s true. They normally didn’t hesitate to ask their Hobi hyung for whatever they wanted. Why would they? He was their hyung and they were his precious pups to spoil.

But this wasn’t a normal situation.

“Whatever it is, I won’t get mad. You know I never get mad at you guys.”

Jimin wishes Hobi didn’t add that part, as it only makes him feel more gross in the moment,

“Fuck, I can’t do it. Please, let’s all drop this.”

Hoseok, however, isn’t ready to drop the subject.

“What could it possibly be that you’re so scare—” he stops as soon as the realization hits.

Truthfully, he’s been preparing for this conversation. With everyone else going back to normal, Hoseok knew it was just a matter of time before intimacy would come back into the equation for the rest of them.

“Oh pups, you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine, really.”

Jimin raises a brow, wanting to make sure everyone’s on the same page. Hoseok continues on, assuring them that he isn’t misunderstanding the situation.

“If we’re being completely honest, I’m still not comfortable with the topic. There’s still a lot I need to work through to handle triggers around it, but whatever anyone else does is fine as long as I’m not asked to be part of it.”

“A-are you sure? With you tuning into your hybrid he—”

“I don’t tune in to anything in the house. Really guys, it’s fine! The only thing that’ll make me feel bad is if you hold yourselves back because of me.”

“We don’t want you just saying that for our sake hyung.”

Hoseok shakes his head with surety, “I’m not. As long as it’s away from me, I don’t mind.”

He punctuates with a smile, ruffling Tae’s hair to lighten the mood. It works on Taehyung, but Jimin’s brows are still furrowed.

“What about during our heats? Will you be okay next month?”

“I’ve talked to Y/N and Yoongi about it already. I’ll be staying with them at Yoongi’s place, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Right now, I’m telling you that I’m more than okay. Please don’t walk on eggshells around me.”

Jimin nods, deciding it best to trust his hyung’s judgement. Hoseok knows what’s best for himself, and it’s not Jimin’s place to decide what should and shouldn’t bother the older wolf.

___

You take a step back, huffing at your sixth failed attempt before diving back in.

You’re Shin Y/N.

You’ve made businessmen shake in their boots at the sound of your heels clicking. You’ve revived dying companies with one meeting. So why can’t you move this pesky little bookshelf to the other side of your office?

It’s been over fifteen minutes, and you can’t get the thing to budge at all. However, if it’s one thing you are, it’s stubborn. So you close your eyes and focus all your energy on pushing. To your surprise, the wooden shelf actually starts sliding this time. Ecstatic, you open your eyes to navigate the room--only to be met with the last sight you’re expecting to see.

It’s Jungkook, covered head to toe in black, with a detached expression you can’t quite read. He nonchalantly drags the piece of furniture, waiting for you to tell him where to stop.

“Right there is fine.”

He props it next to the standing lamp, making sure it’s flush against the wall before letting go.

“Thank you.” You want to say more, but you’re afraid of saying something wrong.

“Whatever.” He stuffs his fists in his hoodie before heading towards the door.

“Wait!” You panic, realizing you said that out loud. You don’t want him to leave but have no clue what to say next. Instinctively, you say the first thing that comes to your mind.

“You’ve been wearing that hoodie a lot…I can buy you more if you like—”

“No thank you.”

Your shoulders shrink. You know it’s not right, but throwing money at your problems has worked out pretty well for you thus far. Not to mention, it’s a lot easier than being emotionally vulnerable. But if money wasn’t going to solve this, your hand’s been forced to try the other way.

“I miss you.”

The words hang heavy in the air, with your fear of being rejected growing by the minute.

The wolf simply scoffs.

“Miss me? You mean you miss having a little pet following all your commands.”

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself of Namjoon’s words to keep composure.

Relax. Jungkook’s a bit difficult to win over, but it’s not impossible. He’s still a sweetheart once he lets you in—really lets you in, without the drugs making him.

Drugs or no drugs, you’ve seen the way he looks at his Alpha with stars in his eyes, or the way he pouts to his Jin hyung when he wants something. Despite the cold front he’s put up with you, he’s as warm as ever to his packmates. There’s still hope as long as you keep trying.

“That’s not true, Jungkook. You can’t just decide what I’ve been feeling and make your judgements based on that. It’s not fair.”

He narrows his eyes, bringing his arms up across his chest in a defensive stance.

“You can’t miss what you’ve never known.”

“I miss you telling me your favorite parts of the shows you’ve watched…or ranking the snacks in the pantry…or just coming by to tell me about your day. Was all of that really just the drugs? Would the real you really be so miserable hanging out with me? Do you hate me that much?”

You try to hold it back, but your eyes start watering right as you say the last sentence. Luckily, no tears spill.

Jungkook is taken aback nonetheless, not expecting the answer he got. His eyes soften up ever so slightly, but not enough to douse the fire of unease you’re burning under.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffs, playing with where his hands meet inside the hoodie instead of meeting your gaze, “and I like living here. But I’m not going to wait for you at the door like a little puppy anymore. And I’m not going to expect you to treat me like my packmates do. You’re not a part of our pack.”

He’s not giving you a lot, but you’re grasping tight at the little assurance he does give. For now, a “I don’t hate you” seems like the best thing you’re going to get from him—and you’re not in any position to complain.

“I understand!” This time, you seem like the lost little puppy, wagging your tail for any approval you can get, “I’m not trying to impose on your pack. I know it’s not my place. I just…want to be friends? Whenever you’re ready to consider me one, I’ll be here.”

You don’t give him any time to respond, as the tears threatening to spill down have you brushing past before the hybrid fully processes what just happened.

Friend.

Somewhere between packmate and total stranger.

Jungkook’s never had a real one before.

He’d never had friends or family before the pack. Just an abandoned stray moving from one back alley to the next. The last time someone asked him to be “friends” was a couple months after he’d just turned eighteen—a wealthy Alpha looking for a fighter to make money off of. He’d agreed, desperate to get off the streets. It wasn’t a bad gig, but it didn’t exactly leave him feeling good either.

Days of nonstop practicing, and nights of nonstop fighting, all so his “friend” could squeeze every last dollar from the matches.

The other fighters didn’t want anything to do with him, with his constant wins getting on everyone else’s nerves. And everyone else in town didn’t want anything to do with him either, with his bloodied and bruised appearance not doing any favors. He got used to the routine—accepted that real friends weren’t in his cards, and that there was probably no pack waiting for him. A true lone wolf.

And he would’ve lived his entire life that way if his last opponent wasn’t such a sore loser. Well, specifically, if his sponsor wasn’t such a sore loser. He still flinches at the memory of being chased down those alleys, hearing gunshots followed by car alarms and shattering glass. It was ten on one, with half of them being wolves he’d defeated in the ring—all working to get their sponsor his money back.

He’d barely managed to escape, gripping where a bullet wound grazed his bloody leg, as he ran without looking back. He only stopped running when the adrenaline couldn’t keep him going any longer, finding himself lost in a neighboring town when his knees finally gave in.

That’s the first time he met Jimin and Taehyung, fingers interlocked and lost in each other’s company. They would’ve missed him if the streetlamp had fully gone out, but thankfully, the little flicker in the night was enough for Jimin’s eyes to meet that of the injured wolf.

If he wasn’t in searing pain, he would’ve felt the pull of the pack bond right when the other two did. But he couldn’t feel anything other than where the bullet ever-so-slightly missed, causing him to kick and scream the entire time the wolves tried to help.

“Relax, please relax. We need to stop the bleeding. What’s your name?”

“Get the fuck away from me. I swear to God I’ll break your bones if you keep touching me.”

Saying he was difficult is an understatement, but the two managed to pin him down just long enough to give emergency first aid.

That was the beginning of the long and messy road to adjusting Jungkook to the pack, navigating his hot temper and short fuse as the rest assured him the pull wasn’t temporary—that this pack, this family, would embrace him with enough love and tenderness to make up for all the years he’d been alone.

To you, to everyone outside, this Jungkook might seem difficult…but only he and his pack know just how gentle he is compared to his old self.

But the idea of this not being enough—of having to compete with the docile imitation of himself that the hormones made him—it was terrifying.

You said you wanted to be friends, but could anyone not bound by a pack bond truly accept Jungkook for the way he is? When there’s really nothing in it for them?

That’s never happened before.

____

A/N: It's good to be back!!!

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universee @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #bts ot7 poly #ot7 x reader #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #hurt/comfort

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 1- I D.A.R.E. You

Summary: After starting your new job as a 3rd grade teacher at Alma Pierce Elementary School, you meet a handsome Javier Peña who has been forced to come give a presentation to your grade. Although you've never met him, you're shocked to find out you may have more in common than you'd think.

Warnings: Mentions of Javi's past work for the DEA, mentions of death and grief, language, financial compensation if you were subjected to the D.A.R.E program as a child, Javi's family friends giving him sass

Word count: 6.2K

A/N: Post Season 3 Javi lives forever in my brain, as the first chapter of this story takes place in Laredo, May of 1997. This man deserves love, and boy is he going to get it.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“It’s your lucky day, Peña!” 

Javier glanced up from the pile of paperwork scattered across his desk to acknowledge the voice coming from the doorway to his office. 

“What do you want, Carter?” 

Javier's voice half grunted in response, his eyes shifting back down to the pile of papers on his desk. In his doorway stood his office mate, Detective Eric Carter. When Javier began his new position with the Laredo County Sheriff's Department 4 months ago, it took everything in him to keep from calling his new co-worker Steve. At a glance, he looked just like his old DEA partner. Tall, lanky, with a wiry head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 30 seconds into meeting Carter, it didn’t take long to realize looks were about the only thing he and Steve Murphy had in common. Eric Carter was a human ray of fucking sunshine, and his chipper demeanor was blinding Javier this early in the morning. 

“It’s your turn!” Carter replied in a sing-songy voice, slapping a red file folder onto Javier’s desk, covering the papers he had been sorting through. Javier picked up the folder and crinkled his brows in confusion. He turned the cover towards him, holding it just far enough away so that his squint trying to read its contents wasn’t too obvious. God, he just needed to give up and buy reading glasses already. 

As he got the folder just the right distance away from his face, he gave Carter a look that said absolutely fucking not. The folder read D.A.R.E school assembly lessons, with a picture of the Lion mascot giving a big thumbs up in his black D.A.R.E shirt. The office had recently been recruited by Laredo Public School District to start giving presentations to the Elementary schools, using the program aptly abbreviated for Drug Abuse Resistance Education. 

“Just take away the “R” and rearrange some letters and it spells DEA!” Carter laughed to himself. “It’s like it was made for you!” 

“No.” 

“Sorry Peña, you’re bottom of the totem pole this week. We’ve all done our time, and you’re the last one left in the office who has yet to go present. It’s not even that bad, you just basically go talk to these kids for an hour and tell them drugs are bad, don’t do them, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the gist, and then it’s done. Piece of cake!” 

“I’m not fucking going.” Javier scoffed. “I have shit I have to get done.” Gesturing in annoyance to the piles of papers on his desk, now in disarray from the folder being thrown on his desk. 

“Not a choice, Mr. Peña.” 

A new voice passed by the doorway, and a much broader frame stood behind Carter’s. Chief Deputy Dean Morris, had joined the conversation, knowing that it wouldn’t end easily for Detective Carter if he kept harassing Javier about it. Morris was head of the department, and what he said, went. Coming from a background in the Air Force, Morris knew how “civilian” a position at a sheriff’s department must have felt for Javier after his time in the DEA. 5 years ago, it seemed fair to think that neither of them would have assumed paperwork, mundane training programs, and now, arguing over talking to 10 year olds about the dangers of doing drugs would have played any importance in their jobs. 

 “Right of passage. Ever since the school board dropped this on us last year, we’ve all done our time. Believe me, no one wants to do it, but like Carter said, today is your lucky day!” Morris’s voice oozed with sarcasm, knowing that Javier would absolutely hate every second of what he was about to have to do. 

“You lucked out on your day to go too, Peña. It looks like you get to go to the school with the hot teach-OW! Hey! What was that for?!” Morris had slapped Carter’s shoulder before he could get out the rest of his sentence. 

“Keep it in your pants, okay Carter?” 

Carter let out a huff of defeat. “I’m just saying, he could have gotten worse days to go…” 

“Just read from the notes, let the kids ask a couple of questions at the end and then you’re on your way. Easy peasy. When you get to the school office they’ll let you know where to go.” 

Javier opened his mouth to rebuttal, but before he could even get out a word, Morris held up his hand to stop him. 

“Not a choice. I’ll have Carter help you finish sorting paperwork, so don’t try to bullshit me and tell me that you have too much work to get done.” 

Javier let out a sigh of frustration that was a little louder than he intended it to be. His hands rested on his forehead as he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. 

“Fine. But this is one and done.” 

“Good man.” Morris reached over Javier’s desk and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He and Carter started to make their way out of Javier’s office when Morris turned his head over the back of his shoulder. 

“Carter’s right about the teacher, too. She’s a catch.” He winked and shut the door behind him. 

Javier gathered his things and made his way through the office, passing by Detective Carter’s desk. 

“Have funnnnnnn! Say ‘hi’ to the hot teacher for me!” Carter mocked, twinkling his fingers, waving at Javier. 

Without saying a word, Javier flipped him off, and kept walking. 

Settling into his truck, Javier set down his belongings in his passenger seat, and opened up the red file folder to see where his unexpected journey was taking him. 

This is fucking ridiculous He mouthed to himself as he cranked up the AC in the truck with one hand, and rummaged the other through the items on the seat. Reaching next to him, he grabbed and opened the folder, and grazed his index finger down the inside cover, where a schedule of schools, dates, and times were printed. At the bottom, he found 

5/27/97- Alma Pierce Elementary School, 12:00-12:30 pm, school cafeteria

 Javier’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He read the line several times, re-checking the location and date to make sure what he read was true. 

Fuck. 

To any of his other co-workers who had been tasked with giving one of these D.A.R.E. presentations, the elementary school they were assigned to that day most likely held little to no significance. Of course, out of the 16 elementary schools in the Laredo Public School District, Javier was assigned to the one that held the most significance to him. 

The school that his mother taught at for her entire teaching career before she passed away. 

Since returning home from Colombia, Javier had been avoiding human contact like the plague. He had returned as somewhat of a “hometown hero” after his accomplishments with the DEA but couldn’t have felt further from it. He had become Laredo’s hottest topic. 

“What was it like to help catch Escobar?! The Cali Cartel?!” 

“We’re so proud of you, the DEA couldn’t have done it without you!”

“When are you going to come over and tell us all about Colombia? We want to know everything!” 

Each question, compliment and conversation about his time in South America was like a knife to his heart, slowly twisting with each word that came out of someone’s mouth. He could feel the guilt and burden of his time away growing heavier and heavier as he politely smiled through these conversations. 

But worse than the strangers who felt entitled to berate Javier about his time in Colombia, were his friends and family who he had been actively avoiding since returning home. Besides his father, Javier hadn’t seen anyone close to him since his mother’s funeral 8 years ago. It hurt Javier knowing that he had returned to Laredo a changed man, haunted by the things he had seen and done. His mother’s closest friends, those that she worked with at Alma Pierce Elementary School, had promised to fulfill Lucia Peña’s dying wish that they would look out for Javi and made sure that he came home okay. 

Well, Javier was home. He wasn’t quite sure how to break it to them that he wasn’t really okay. 

As he drove and parked in front of the school building, Javier’s heart began to beat heavier in his chest. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he started at the entrance to the school. He couldn’t decide if the feeling swirling around in his stomach was comfort or terror, knowing that Alma Pierce Elementary looked exactly the same as it did the last time he was here 9 years ago with his mother. 

He did know that part of that feeling definitely had to be terror, as he began to think about the fact he was about to be interrogated relentlessly by his late mother’s closest friends. Might as well sign these women up to work for the DEA- they were probably more terrifying than anyone Javier had encountered in his time working there. 

After a few more deep breaths, Javier gathered his things out of his truck and headed towards the main doors. Each footstep felt like he was walking through wet cement, questioning if it was too late to turn around.

Practically tip toeing in to the office, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, Javier let out a soft “Hi, I’m from the sheriff's department, I’m here for-“ 

Before he could even finish his sentence, the office secretary, a tiny and graying Señora Gutierez was thrusting her arms across the threshold of the office desk to wrap Javier in an impressively strong hug. 

“JAVIER PEÑA. I cannot believe it’s you! oh my sweet mijo, look at you! The older you get, the more like Chucho you look, dios mio! Why haven’t you stopped by?! We have all missed you so much, what have you been doing? It is so good to see you!” 

Here we go.

“Hola, Señora.” Javier half grunted from how tight he was being squeezed. “It’s nice to see you too.” 

“I have lots to ask but I know you need to go, or they will know that this old woman has been running her mouth, making you late.” Señora Gutiérrez began shooing her hand, as to send Javier on his way. 

Javier chuckled. He felt his body begin to ease slightly, letting the familiarity of friendly faces bring him a small sense of comfort. 

“I would hope after this VERY LONG time that you have not been to see your mamà’s dearest friends, you still remember where the cafeteria is?” She gave Javier a playful grin.

“Sí, Señora.” 

“Everyone will be so happy to see you, mi amor. Now go, or everyone will be after me for keeping you!” 

Grabbing his things, Javier made his way down the bustling hallway. Tiny faces stared up at his, as he shuffled his way towards the cafeteria doors. There, he was greeted by a sea of children chatting amongst themselves and 3 smiling faces, patiently waiting for his arrival. 

“JAVI!” 

Out of any of the faces he was bound to see today, these were the 3 he would recognize anywhere. The ladies who stood before him were the fellow 3rd grade teachers who had taught alongside his mother for almost 20 years. 

The ladies surrounded him in a bear hug, Javier quietly noting to himself that he had definitely reached his hug quota for the next several weeks. 

“It’s so good to see you, Javi.” The first of the 3 women spoke, her words sweet like honey. Linda Garcia was short and stout, her gray bangs brushing over the brim of her glasses as she looked up at Javier. Linda had always had a soft spot for Javi, and reminded him the most of his mother. 

“It’s good to see you t-“ 

“PENDEJO. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WHY HAVE YOU NOT CALLED?! WE SWORE TO YOUR LATE MOTHER THAT WE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU, AND IF IT WASN’T FOR CHUCHO KEEPING US UPDATED TH-” 

“Maria, let the boy breathe, this is the first time you’re seeing him in years, and this is the route you’re going to take? Dios Mio.” 

Standing next to Linda were her 2 partners in crime, Maria Rogers and Estelle Lopez. 

If you didn’t know Maria Rogers, you would be shocked to see the ferocity that came out of such a tiny woman. Javier’s mother used to refer to her “el vòlcan”- a matching nickname for her fiery personality. 

Estelle, on the other hand, was one of the most soft spoken people that Javier had ever meant. If she had something to say, he knew it was time to listen. 

“Hi everyone, it’s really great to see all of you.” Javier meant it. As overwhelmed and flustered as he was, it brought him peace to know after the hell that these last 8 years had been, some things never change. 

“MRS. ROGERSSSSSSS. WHEN IS THIS GONNA START?! I’M HUNGRY AND I KNOW LUNCH IS AFTER THIS.” 

“BE QUIET, MICHAEL. YOU KNOW WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR ONE MORE CLASS. YOU’RE SO ANNOYING.” 

“AM NOT!” 

“AM TOO!” 

Chatter and fidgeting amongst the 3rd graders instantaneously increased, the crowd of children now growing restless. 

“Oi, these niños will be the death of me, thank goodness this school is almost done.” Maria mumbled under her breath, the other 2 teachers rolling their eyes and laughing in agreement. “We’re just waiting on one more class, but they should be here any minute.” 

Overhearing the conversations shouted across the cafeteria, Agent Carter’s voice wandered through Javier’s thoughts. 

“You get the school with the hot teacher!” 

Obviously, Carter was not referring to the 3 women who stood before him. Although he wasn’t one for crude office banter, Javier couldn’t help but wonder if Carter’s statement really held true. With a genuine curiosity and a slight smirk on his face, he leaned back, arms crossed and asked, “Yeah wait, there’s still four 3rd grade teachers right?” 

The women all shot him a look that took him aback, their eyes burning a hole though Javier. 

“Jesus, you men really have a one track mind don’t you. Yes, I’m sure all of your friends from the department have been more than happy to tell you about our new teacher who just joined us. She is a sweet girl, and I am sure she is sick of getting harassed by all of you.” 

“Maria, I was just asking a quest-“ 

“Javier Jesus Peña, I have known you since before you were born. Wipe that smug look off your face, I know exactly why you asked the question”. 

Yup, things haven’t changed a bit. 

Before he could retort, the cafeteria doors began to swing open, followed by a long line of children, and you. 

“1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

“1, 2, eyes on you! 

God, the amount of times you’d had to repeat that phrase as the end of the school year approached, you might as well have gotten it tattooed on your forehead. 

“Okay 3rd graders, we’re already 5 minutes late for our assembly, and I’m sure the other classes are not going to be happy that we’re holding them up, and probably making us late for lunch after” 

The chatter stopped. With only a few days left in the school year, you were running out of ammunition to keep your class’s attention. At least the threat of being late to unch would work for now. 

A little hand shot up from the middle of the line you were about to trail down the hallway, like a mother duck with her babies following in line. “What’s your question, Jaun?” 

“Do you know if it’s gonna be the same guy as last time? He was kind of scary.” Mumbles of agreement came from the voices surrounding him. The Laredo Sheriff's Department had sent in a slew of their employees each week for these presentations, and you had been convinced none of them had ever even attempted to talk to a child. Last week’s presenter, Martin, Michales, something like that, had spent the large time of his presentation talking about getting murdered by the Cartel, leading to tears from many of your students, and a prompt request to not have him back. 

“I don’t know sweetie, it seems like there’s someone new who comes every week, but I sure hope it’s not him.” The class let out a small giggle. These were the moments you loved about your job as a teacher, especially now that you had moved to an older grade where your kids finally picked up on your subtle jokes with them. 

You had been with your class since after Christmas break, filling in as a long term sub for a 3rd grade teacher on maternity leave. The job followed an impromptu move from Chicago to Texas after breaking off your relationship with your boyfriend (regrettably, almost fiancé)  of 3 years, who had been cheating on you behind your back for 2 of them. You felt like an idiot that you hadn’t seen it coming, but it still hit you like a ton of bricks. Paul had plenty of red flags, but your optimistic demeanor and the mounting peer pressure of watching your friends get married and start their own families made you feel trapped. It still stung to think you would have settled for a miserable life with Paul out of the fear you wouldn’t find anyone else. 

 Desperate to get as far away from Illinois as possible, you packed your bags and made the nearly 4 day drive down to Laredo, Texas. Laredo,  a strange choice to many, but made nothing but complete sense to you. Your best friend since the 2nd grade, Sarah Alverez, had moved to Laredo your Freshman year of high school, her father accepting an agricultural engineering position in ranching country. You spent every summer until college visiting her and her family, having nothing but the fondest of memories for a sleepy town outside of San Antonio. It was a stark chance from the hustle and bustle of Chicago suburbia where you had spent your childhood. Long, carefree summer days made you promise yourself that if you ever did leave Chicago, you’d find yourself here. Well, you had made good on your promise, but for reasons that still made your stomach churn in gut-wrenching knots. 

You and your class journeyed down the hallway to the cafeteria. Thank god it was a short trip, because you were far too tired to put up with the bickering and shenanigans the back of your line often seemed to plague you with. Just as you were entering through the cafeteria doors, you promptly turned around, your body facing the line as you walked backwards further into the cafeteria. “Isabella and Jorge, keep your hands to yourself! You two know you’re not supposed to be in line togeth-” Before you could finish your sentence, the back of your body collided with one behind you that you hadn’t seen since turning around to stop a near WWE smackdown in the hallway. You had bumped into kids more than once who weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, but it became very clear, very quickly, that the body you had backed yourself into was not a child’s. 

The body you had backed yourself into was much taller and broader than yours. Two large hands firmly, but gently grasped around the middle of your upper arms to catch you without stumbling backwards any further. An overwhelming scent of cedarwood and sage cologne filled your senses. This obviously was not one of your coworkers, either. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorr-“ you started to apologize as you came to face the body that had stopped you in your tracks. Your apology halted as you were met by incredibly broad shoulders covered by a navy blue suit jacket. As your gaze continued upwards, the shoulders were followed by a strong square jawline and plush lips, the upper covered with an impeccable mustache. Continuing up, you were met with the most beautiful, deep chocolate brown eyes, whose soft stare soon met yours. There was no denying that this man was devilishly handsome. Realizing that you had most definitely been starting too long, you restated your apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were behind me.” Your eyes shifted away from his and darted down to the floor. 

A small smirk formed on his face as he looked down at you. He didn’t realize it, but he couldn’t help it. You were wearing a yellow sun dress that hit just above your knees, covered by a light washed denim jacket. Your dress swayed beautifully as he watched you take your last few steps backwards, making him question himself if he let you run into him on purpose. You smelled like vanilla and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Pink embarrassment flooded your cheeks as a soft smile on your face met his. He now too realized that he had been staring a little too long, and that he still had his grasp on your arms as you had turned around to look at him. 

“No it’s okay.” He let out a small laugh under his breath. “I just didn’t want you to go too much further and trip over anything else.” He gently let his hands leave her arms, and watched as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face and looked back up at him. 

“Should we go sit down now?!” A small voice shouted from your line, causing you to snap back to reality, realizing that you had a line of children still standing behind you. 

“Yes, sorry sweetie” you replied, brushing your dress down back into place. “You guys can go find a spot behind Mrs. Rogers’ class.” Your class passed by you, paying no mind to the interaction that just took place between you and the man you had just bumped into. 

As you watched your class pass by, you turned back around to find the man still staring at you, causing your heart to palpably beat in your chest. The same strong hands that had caught you were now extended in your direction, offering a handshake to introduce himself. “I’m Javier Peña, uh Javi, actually” as your hand met his, realizing how small they felt in his grip. “I’m from the Laredo Sheriff's department, I uh, I’m the one that’s supposed to be doing the whole presentation thing today.” Your hand stayed in his as you introduced yourself. God, his hands were something else.

His grip loosened as your co-workers began to move towards you. You began to realize how hot your face felt, knowing that you were flushed with embarrassment not only from almost falling into a crowd of 10 year olds, but from how awe struck you were by the man who had caught you.

The three women on your 3rd grade team had taken you in as one of their own when you started your job here. They had been more than happy to step in to help you with whatever you needed, including trying to set you up with every single man your age that they knew. With the exception of the parade of overly forward sheriff's department members who had been at your school every Wednesday. Those 3 had no problem telling those men to fuck right off and leave you alone (in the nicest way possible.) The ladies slowly crept closer towards you, sly grins stretched across their faces as they giggled like school girls. 

“OH, so it looks like you met our sweet Javier!” Linda said with over exaggerated enthusiasm. 

“Sweetie, you’re SO good with the technology around here, you know how us old ladies are. Maybe you could help him set up the video he needs for his presentation today?” You knew damn well these women knew how to press play on a VCR. You grimaced your face at Maria. While you couldn’t see your face, you were absolutely positive your expression was screaming “Oh my God, could you please make it any more obvious that this man is insanely attractive and you don’t need to add to the embarrassment after I already ran into him like an idiot?!” 

“Yeah, of course, I’d be more than happy to help!” You pointed towards the stage that sat in front of the cafeteria. “Just come this way and I’ll show you how to set it up.” 

Following behind you, Javier leaned his head down towards yours. “Must be the most complicated VCR set up I’ve seen in a while.” 

You let out a giggle. “Yeah, they're all very sweet, but not the most skilled with anything that has to do with technology. When our principal had mentioned the idea of us potentially getting a computer lab, they just about had a heart attack. Setting up the TV to play a video should be no problem.” You gestured towards the stage at the front of the cafeteria where the TV cart was kept for presentations. He followed behind you, keeping a respectful distance.  Not respectful enough to keep himself from staring at the curve of your ass in your dress as you walked up the stage stairs. 

“Do you have the tape you need to show?” Your words went in one ear and out the other. Carter and Morris weren’t kidding. He hated to admit that those idiots were right about anything, but God, you were beautiful. His gaze was locked on you as squatted down next to the VCR, ejecting its previous contents. It seemed in that moment that you very much both realized that when Javier stood in front of you, you eye level with his waist, staring up at him, dangerously close to his coc- 

“Uh, yeah, yeah sorry,” he shook his head slightly to snap himself out of the thought he was about to have. “Thanks.” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Well I’m no technology expert, but all you should have to do is press play wherever you need to, and you should be good to go! Let me just roll this cart out for you and we’re good for you whenever you’re ready!” You began pushing the cart out onto the stage, but before you could get anywhere, Javi had his hand over yours. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s probably heavy, I can push it.” He insisted. 

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that made him step away. 

“What, you think I can’t do it?” Defiantly, you pushed the cart out to the middle of the stage to prove a point, looking back at him and shrugging with an “I told you so” look on your face. Any other woman he had met would have thankfully given up the task, let alone offer to do it at all. At that moment, Javier Peña knew you were not just any other woman. And that- that terrified him in the best way possible.

 Just before you hopped off the edge of the stage to re-join your class, you looked up at him as he ran his fingers through his locks of thick, curly brown hair, trying to regain his composure. 

“Good luck up there, Mr. Peña.” 

Javier couldn’t even tell you what had happened in the 30 minutes that he was up on stage. There were many times throughout his career where he had stared out into a sea of blank faces as he gave a presentation about intel, informats, wire taps… but having the eyes of 80 9 and 10 year olds glued to his every word was an absolutely terrifying experience. Not because he was nervous about the judgment of a child who may or may not even be able to tie their shoes or wipe their nose, but because of what they may say about him to you. It took everything in his power not to stare at you the entire time he was up there, but every time he glanced in your direction, your face lit up with a reassuring smile. You had even given him a little thumbs up when he had successfully started the VCR, playing a clip of Daren the D.A.R.E Lion. 

As the presentation finished, the kids applauded and gave a unanimous “thank you!” prompted by the teachers. 

As your class gathered behind you to walk down to the cafeteria, Maria tapped your shoulder. 

“Take a picture, mija, it will last longer.” 

You were too busy staring at Javi to even notice that Maria was talking to you. Her words went in one ear and out the other. 

“Huh, what? Sorry, did you say something?” 

“I said, take a picture, it will last longer.” Maria laughed to herself. “I don’t think your eyes have left him once since you walked in here.” 

You hated to admit it, but it was true. You had known this man for less than an hour, and he already had butterflies dancing around in your stomach. God, what were you, 12?! Pull it together. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Maria.” Of course you did. If you were wearing pants, they would be up in flames. Liar, liar, pants on fire. 

“I’ll take your class to lunch today. I’ll be back to help stack all of the chairs in a few. I’m sure he could use some help cleaning up, and I’ve heard that VCR is really difficult to work.” Maria nudged you before she turned around to collect your class and parade them out of the gym. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Trying to contain your excitement, you playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

The other teachers and students left, leaving just you and Javi. He gathered his things that he had left on the stage and started to make his way back down the stairs. It took him a moment to realize you were standing at the edge of the steps, arms crossed over your chest, smiling up at him. 

“I’m sorry if the kids were rowdy. It’s been a zoo since there’s only a few days of school left.” You both let out a small chuckle. Now that you two were alone, you became very aware of how nervous you were.

“You did a really great job! Honestly, you’re the best person we’ve had since we’ve started doing these presentations. The guy we had last time, I can’t remember his name, something with an M?! Anyways, I don’t think he’s ever spoken to a child in his entire life, and there were definitely some tears.” 

Definitely Morris, Javi noted to himself. 

“Thanks, I uh- didn’t think I’d be so nervous to talk in front of a bunch of kids. I’m glad it wasn’t too bad. I should thank you for helping me with that video. Didn’t need to get my pride bruised in front of 10 year olds.  Also glad I didn’t make anyone cry.” 

You both let out small laughs, your cheeks revealing small smiles across your faces. While the silence between you grew, the distance between you began to shrink as you both subconsciously took a small step towards each other. 

He watched as a small wave of sadness flooded your expression. “Stinks that this is the last week of presentations before the school year ends. it would have been nice to have you back.” You looked at him with a half hopeful smile. You saw the same feeling reflected back in him as his brow scrunched and bottom lip entered a small pout. 

“Oh shit. Yeah, I uh, I guess I forgot it’s the end of the school year. That would make sense there wouldn’t be anymore presentations.” He rested one hand on his hip, as the other traveled through his thick, brown locks. You bit down on your bottom lip, stunned by his broadness and shoulders to waist ratio, which was made even more apparent as his fingers combed through his hair. His deep brown eyes met yours, melting you instantly.  “If I had known that you would have been here, I would have signed up to come a lot earlier.” 

Before you had a chance to recover yourself from the puddle you had just turned into, the cafeteria doors swung open once again. Maria was a woman on a mission. Her tiny, thin frame marched with purpose towards you both. 

“Oh good thing I caught you, amor! I was just thinking that I had something important to tell Javier before he left and I’m so glad you’re here to hear it too. Javi happens to be a dear familiar friend, and I was just telling him before the presentation how excited I am to see him and his father at my cookout this Saturday! I know you had mentioned you were thinking about going! You’ll be there, won’t you Javier? Aren't you so excited to come to the party this Saturday?”

Maria and Javier entered a silent stare down. Their expressions allowed them to have an entire conversation without speaking a word. 

There’s a party on Saturday? What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?

Dios Mio, Pendejo. Take the hint. I already invited her. She will be there on Saturday so you can see her again. Don’t mess this up. 

“Oh really?” You chimed in, perhaps a bit too over enthusiastic. “I wasn’t really going to know anyone besides the staff at school, so it would be nice to see another familiar face!” In all honesty, you were trying to find a way out of going before just now. Huge social gatherings of strangers weren’t really your thing, but if it meant it was a chance to see Javi again, you would brave it. 

“Oh yeah, the uh, the cookout! Yeah, uh, yeah, I’ll be there. It would be really nice to see you again, too.” Although Javier’s tone carried a tint of confusion, his smile was confirmed that his statement was genuine. 

“Bueno!” Maria clasped her hands together and shook her head in delight. “So you will BOTH be there on Saturday!” 

You could already feel your heart swelling at the prospect of seeing Javi again. 

“Oh and mija”, Maria turned towards you, your face lighting up, wondering if she had even more good news to deliver. “They need you in the office. Isabella and Jorge got into a wrestling match in the cafeteria and the secretaries needed to call their parents. Oi, these niños are like wild animals, summer cannot come fast enough!” 

“Of course they did. They might as well put WWE referee under our job description because it seems like that’s all I’m doing all day. It’s like herding feral cats.” you groaned. “Those two cannot be together next year…” 

Javi let out a snort. “Sorry”, he said, trying to contain his laughter. You joined in, realizing the ridiculousness of your statement. 

“Alright, well I guess that’s my cue to go. It was really nice to meet you, Javi. I’m really glad I get to see you again.” It took every ounce of strength in your body to move yourself out of the cafeteria doors. As you walked away, you turned once more to look back over your shoulder, to find that Javi’s eye’s hadn’t moved from your direction since you turned around. “See you on Saturday.” 

Even after you were out of sight, Javi still stood frozen, his eyes wide and jaw still half open. 

“Hola, earth to Javier, are you there?!” Maria interjected, waving her hand in front of Javi’s awe struck face. 

Snapping out of his trance, Javier began to speak, but was stopped before he could get out a single word. 

“Listen to me mijo. I want you to be happy. That was all Lucia asked for before she passed. So first and foremost, you are welcome.” Maria gestured, alluding to the fact that Javier owed her big time for what had just happened. “Secondly, she is a sweet girl. If you do anything to break her heart, so help me, I will come to the ranch and run you over with your father’s tractor. Understood?” 

“Understood.” Javier understood that this was not a threat, it was a promise. 

“Good. She’s a good one, Javier. She reminds me so much of your mother. Lucia would have loved her.” She reached up her hand to cup the side of Javi’s face, before bringing her other arm around him for a hug. 

Javier exhaled, trying his best to hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was the first time since returning home that he felt a sense of relief and comfort fill his body. Maybe, he was more than the man he was returning home from Colombia. Maybe, the people who loved him before he left still loved him now, despite the person he’d become. Maybe, just maybe, someone else could love him for the new man he now hoped to become.  

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #javier pena #javier peña #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #javier pena fluff #narcos #javier pena imagine #pedro pascal characters #narcos fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #javier pena x f!reader #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena x female reader #javier pena x ofc #javier peña smut #pedrohub #pedro pascal character #pedroispunk #joel miller

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

Together we fill gaps

Pairing: König x Reader

Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.

(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)

Warning: Angst, Drinking

AN: You've all been treating me so much with your feedback with this series and I'm so happy to get another part out for you guys! Hope you enjoy 💕 Also, as it's come up a couple times, if you read this series and want to make something inspired by it then PLEASE go ahead, I'll be excited to see what you guys make!

Part 4 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here

-☠️-

You waited outside the dark double doors of the meeting room like a sinner before confession, hands wringing at your sides and eyes full and wide, ready to plead for mercy. You’d even managed to bite your tongue a couple times because you were trying so hard not to look like you’d done something wrong; mind practically melting with the cold hard fact that you had. 

Even after being told to stay away from König in the heat of an ongoing operation, after being told exactly who he is on numerous occasions in fact, you’d still gone against their word and your better judgement. You’d kissed him.

You felt like a walking TV disaster, the kind of person in the movie that you watch and you yell ‘why the hell would you do that?’ to the screen while they throw their lives away on bad decisions. And now you were being called into some meeting that Price had arranged - without telling you its purpose - you could almost hear the Jaws theme flaring behind your ears. It made your mouth dry up. 

You were your own worst enemy, trapped in your mind as the rickety scaffolding collapsed around you. You’d clawed onto thoughts of how the meeting was going to go while losing yourself to the memory of König’s possessive grip around your waist and the phantom feeling of tingles swelling on your lips. 

You were going to end up buried in the fallout and there’d be no one to blame but yourself. 

“You’re early,” Price rumbled behind you.

You snapped your head around to the sound of his voice and pursed your lips, already feeling a cold flash race down your spine. You’d been more excited to rush into firefights than you were to go into that meeting, and that went double when you noticed Ghost following behind the Captain.

“Figured it’d help,” you said breathlessly, hoping he’d recognise your good intentions. 

Price grunted and Ghost said nothing. They brushed past you and walked into the depths of the meeting room, turning on the light as if they were about to start an investigator routine. You doubted either of them would play the good cop, that much was obvious. However you did wonder what they knew, what they’d found out since you’d come back from the mission.

Did either of them know about the kiss? 

You sighed and walked forward, feeling impossibly heavy and gut wrenchingly anxious. Every step was another closer to your telling off - something you rarely had to face up to. And before too long you were standing over a seat they’d pulled out for you and begrudgingly lowered yourself into it, facing the steely eyed men situated across from you. 

It didn’t help that the chair felt like a torture device. Hard pieces of ripped leather dug into your skin from the back and the lumpy cushion had you shifting in place, making you look even guiltier. Just great, as if you needed to look any worse in front of them. 

“So,” Price began, leaning forward over his chair, “Ghost filled me in on the op yesterday - in private.”

He’d neglected to take his seat, opting instead to lean over it like he might lunge at you at any given time. His eyes were harsh, swirling with the warning of an oncoming storm. 

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat - trying not to think about the way it felt like ingesting a bowling ball. It sounded almost as loud, the room was deadly silent save for the stuttering clock on the wall and the sound of your collective breathing. You’d sat down in a horror set of your own creation. 

“I’m sure you know why that was,” Ghost said, staring across at you with an almost piteous look.

His eyes were stony behind his skull mask, shadowed and layered thickly with a seriousness you’d never known before, not even during your work with him. He wasn’t ready to pounce on you like Price, but he certainly wasn’t going to save you from him either.

“Because I went against your orders,” you murmured.

“Speak up,” Price growled, going as far as to use your real name.

Well that wasn’t good.

“I went against your orders,” you said again, voice clear and unwavering. 

Even despite the looney tunes levels of fear you felt, you knew not to disobey the Captain when he shouted at you like that. You spoke like you were on stage, addressing the nation. 

“You did,” Ghost confirmed, straightening up. “Can you tell us what your orders were?”

You bit your lip, wrangling it between your teeth like tasting blood might dose you up in some way. The skin felt fit to burst like a honeydew, already worn from the night before’s activities. Perhaps the physical pain would distract you from the way Price and Ghost were looking at you as if they were ready to string you up like a war criminal, distract you from thinking about König even while they did so. 

“My orders were to wait downstairs with Gaz and Soap and keep watch for any stragglers,” you finally said, recalling the exact words he’d barked at you before you were tossed downstairs to the corpse pile. 

“And what did you do?”

“I…I lost it when I realised what was going on upstairs and I- I disobeyed the order and tried to go into the room we’d located the hostage.”

“And why was that?” Price asked this time, his eyes boring into yours.

“I- I don’t know,” you faltered, digging your nails hard into your palms.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” He sneered.

“I- I-...Captain, I don’t know what I was going to do. I didn’t like what we were doing, what we were enabling, and I acted before I thought. I-”

“Acted before you thought,” Price interrupted, coming around from his chair and advancing toward you. “You act before you think again and next time it’s not Ghost reprimanding you, next time you could end up with a bullet in the head, or who knows? Maybe you walk out onto a landmine because you wanted to skip off and smell the fucking roses!”

You breathed in and backed up in your chair, leather carving into your back as you did so, heartbeat wrenching upwards into an absurd chorus. You could barely focus on Price as he walked toward you and snarled like a wounded animal, ready to take you down himself before let any stray bullet pierce you.

“It won’t happen again, Captain,” you quavered, trying to hold onto what little of your strength you could. “It was stupid and reckless. It’s not the kind of person I am, and I- I let myself down. I don’t ever want to do that again.”

“You’re damn right you let yourself down,” Price muttered. “Let yourself down all in the name of some crush you have as well, because don’t think that i don’t know exactly why you wanted into that room - exactly who you were trying to get at! I trusted that after our little talk you’d be able to keep a safe distance from König and keep things professional, but clearly I overestimated you…So, because of your actions, and in the interest of getting the 141 back alive and safe in future without worrying about what you might unthinkingly do, you’re not to speak to him again, do I make myself clear?”

Every fibre in your being wanted to scream and lash out. You wanted to stand up and face Price and tell him he couldn’t order you to do that, that König wasn’t on the team so he couldn’t stop you from seeing him. Though, you knew if you did it was a one way ticket to getting booted back home and god knows if it would be a permanent trip or just a stint to sort you out. 

You stamped out the thought of disagreeing immediately, and you nodded, feeling as if your head were on an automated hinge. Self preservation had kicked in at last and for a few minutes your head was clear from hazy starry thoughts and focused solely on your career, on the hard work you’d done to achieve your position. You couldn’t throw it all away. 

“Yes, Captain. You’re clear.”

You didn’t stutter or stumble, you looked him in the eye and hardened your jaw. A small smile seemed to cross his lips at last. It didn’t remain there for long, but he looked less like he was ready to strangle you till you were cold and blue, and that at the very least was something. 

“Good,” he said simply, drawing back from your chair and heading toward the heavy doorway. “Don’t ever disappoint me like this again.”

He disappeared from the room, trailing out like the smoke cloud that usually lingered with him, and left you without another word. You’d mistakenly thought you were alone for a second, feeling the tension drain out from the door and released a breath, planting your face into your palms. 

You weren’t alone though, Ghost was still there, perched over the chair that he dwarfed like a statue. It was normally a comical sight, but you weren’t ready to see the funny side of anything at that point. You weren’t ready to see much at all as you silently hoped the darkness would swallow you, remaining hunched into your hands.

“He was really worried when I told him,” Ghost finally said, huffing a little as he thought back, “He couldn’t believe you of all people went against an order - especially on an operation like this, when we had to keep ourselves clean. He didn’t like the thought of you on another mission with könig and getting yourself hurt chasing after the cunt either.” 

You stiffened when you heard him speak and slowly lowered your hands, chancing a look up at him. He didn’t look nearly as menacing as Price had, he looked contemplative. His eyes glanced up at the ceiling and his thick arms were wrapped around each other, he leaned back in his chair a little as he continued to think deeply. 

“I got that,” you snorted, biting your lip. “Is it time for you to give me a bollocking now too?”

He chuckled and shook his head. It was a welcome sound, rough and rich like velvet.

“I told you off already, remember? Besides, I don’t think I could top that.”

“Then what are you still doing hanging round? You making sure I don’t run to witness protection?”

Ghost shook his head again and stood up, sighing as he walked toward you. He stopped just short of your chair and raised his hand, letting it awkwardly hang in the air a second. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were going to be ok,” he said, resting his big mitt on your shoulder. “And…I wanted you to know that we’re off to the pub later. The guys were asking after you.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Price isn’t going, Sneaky. You’ll only be stuck with us,” he assured.

“And if I say I want to sit and feel sorry for myself for a little while?”

“I’d say that you’re not locking yourself up in your room like a little princess, sweetheart. You can either come with us or I can find something for you to do around the base. Your choice,” he said, the glint of a smile appearing in his eyes.

He wasn’t giving you much of a choice at all. 

-💀-

“Sneaky! Over here.”

You cast your eyes over the crowded pub, straining to hear over the low din of everyone's voices, and looked for the source of the callout, finally finding Soaps waving arms amongst the masses. It was a busy night, but still they’d managed to find a free booth somewhere off in the corner. You had no doubt there’d be a drink there waiting there for you too. 

Given the pub was one of the few closest to the base, it was pleasant enough to pass your time in. It was a little dim, the faint yellow lights not enough to combat the low ceilings and lack of windows, but it was cosy. The old wooden bar top and well worn blue floors felt homey in that familiar sort of way and you liked that it always smelt like hops and aged varnish. It was a proper old man pub, but nevertheless served as a tradition.

“Thought you were going to bail on us,” Ghost said, watching as you finally drew up to the table.

“And miss out on all the action?” You laughed dryly, tilting your head at the three men who sat comfortably against the sagging cushioned seats. “Never.”

“You tryin to say we’re no fun?” Soap asked, clutching his chest in mock alarm. 

“Mm, depends if that pint’s for me or not.”

“It was, but if you’re gonna be cheeky then-“

Soap made a play to grab the tall bubbling glass next to him, but you beat him to it. You were tipping your head up and gulping it down before he could register that you’d stolen it from his reach. 

“Fuckin hell, slow down,” Gaz laughed.

You lowered your glass to Gaz’s protest and watched as the golden liquid sloshed and levelled to around halfway. You hadn’t realised how much you’d needed that. With an eyebrow raise and a swipe of your tongue over your lips, you finally took your seat next to Soap. The men watched you and you watched them in some kind of cowboy style standoff. 

“I take it everyone knows about my verbal beat down then?” 

Soap and Gaz looked away, but Ghost's eyes remained trained on you. They were completely unashamed, unbothered that you knew he’d been gossiping again. 

“Is anything sacred round here,” you muttered, taking only a bitter sip of your beer this time. 

“They were on the mission too, not like it’s news to em’,” Ghost sniffed. 

“Price was chain smokin’ a belter today too, it was obvious something happened,” Soap muttered from behind his glass. “Garrick asked about it but he wouldn’t say-“

Gaz shoved at him, knocking his teeth against his glass.

“Oi!” 

“Don’t drag me into it!” Gaz groused.

“Well…regardless, Price wouldn’t tell us what was up, but Ghost said he’d spoken to you about what happened and that was why he had a face like a slapped arse.”

You snorted and shook your head. Soap was ever the eloquent storyteller.

“And he didn’t tell you anything else?” You asked, surprised he hadn’t mentioned the ultimatum.

“Almost like I’m a professional or something,” Ghost chuckled, leaving back in his corner. 

You raised your eyebrows and took a breath to ease your relief. In fairness to him, he loved to rile you up and tease you, but when it came to work he genuinely was strict about these things. Things like private meetings where you were told you couldn’t continue to pursue a certain masked Austrian. Surprisingly enough.

However, with that thought, you were sent spiralling back to the dilemma that had been torturing you all day. Thinking about König made your heart sink with heaviness. It dropped like an anchor. That kiss from the night before had been the last time you’d seen him, the last time you’d be able to speak to him. You had so many things you’d wanted to talk through and clear up. Now - you had to ignore him at the cost of your job and you felt even worse about all that hadn’t been said. It made you feel like you’d used him, you worried he’d see it that way too. 

“What happened then?” Gaz asked, noticing you disappear into yourself. 

You shook yourself out of your stupor, poorly trying to cover it up.

“What?” You asked innocently. 

“At the meeting?” He prodded. “What’d Price say?”

“Almost sounds like you’re excited,” you bit out, deflecting as much as possible. “Someone’s enjoying being the sole favourite again, hmm?”

“Don’t be a dick, Sneak. Remember that time I fumbled the breach on that door in France - I almost blew us all to hell, you remember how bad that was? Price was fucking livid with me, and even then he was able to let that go eventually. And then after it happened, after he almost killed me for it, you told me to talk about it all so I wouldn’t have it trapped in my head, so just tell us. What’d he say?”

A deep shuddering breath left your lungs like a gale. Suddenly the pint in your hand was much more interesting than you’d ever found a drink. The way the liquid sloshed and foamed white, the bubbles fizzing in your ears like static, it drew your eye for a few moments until you risked a glance up to Ghost, watching his eyes roam your face. He was interested to see if you’d keep deflecting or come out with it, expression stony.

“He said I couldn’t talk to König again, and I’m assuming you won’t see me round base for much longer if I decide to go against him.” You sighed.

Soap and Gaz raised their eyebrows, but they didn’t look too shocked. However, they did risk a look at each other and something seemed to ring through their expressions. A little bright bulb of knowledge, wordless but obvious. What was it they were thinking about, what had happened?

“Spill,” you growled. 

Ghost looked equally as intrigued, sitting up from his slump in the corner. That was interesting too. Soap knew something that Ghost didn’t - for once. 

“Well me n’ Gaz were comin’ out the gym together and we were gonna go to the kitchen quickly before the showers and eh…the Captian was in there having a word with the big guy.”

“A word? What do you mean?” You asked, nails digging into the sticky wood of the table. 

“Couldn’t hear, but it was obvious they weren’t agreeing,” Gaz shrugged. “König looked like he was going to strangle Price.”

“Price just stood there as well, shoulders back, relaxed as anything. König was all over the place, shouting in German and smashing his fist on the counter before he stormed out. We left before he reached us - as you can imagine,” Soap laughed nervously, clearly still affected by the sight. 

Shouting in German? It wasn’t like him to slip into his native language when he was around the base. You’d heard him start to speak it once or twice when he got the occasional phone call from his family, but he rarely strayed from English. Only when he was mumbling to himself or surprised or annoyed about something would you hear the odd word or curse outside of speaking on the phone, but he didn’t let those out often. He must’ve been in a horrible mood to be shouting like that at the Captain. 

“Do you know what he said?” You asked curiously. 

“How the fuck should we know,” Soap chuckled. “He was doing that thing where his voice goes all loopy and high pitched. Sounded like a cartoon character, ‘eek meek deek’ somethin’ somethin’ -  he was goin’ bananas.”

“Ich mach dich kalt?” You tried, briefly recognising the sounds of the words from a story König had told once - about an older boy chasing after him with a swiss army knife.

“Yeah sounded just like that actually! What’s it mean?” Gaz said. 

“I’ll make you cold - I’ll kill you, basically,” you said, biting your lip. “Sounds like he was really fucking angry with Price.” 

-💀-

Despite not having wanted to go out that night, you’d had a nice time. After you’d stopped talking about the whole Price debacle, the conversation revolved more around usual topics and for a little while it felt like everything was ok again. 

König lingered ever present in the back of your mind, but the boys provided a good distraction and you were glad that Ghost forced you out of your cave of isolation. He’d known exactly what you needed, as little as you’d like to admit it. 

You’d ended the night on six pints and walked back to base merry, singing along to a nonsense song that Soap was singing, grinning ear to ear and holding onto him like your life depended on it. Your hand was wrapped tightly around his back and he was doing the same to you, forcing you along the street in a wild toppling sway that made your head spin. The stars looking like they were dancing and the trees swayed too and fro below them, like nature's flash mob in your blurry field of vision.

The song carried through the night like a fox call, but neither Gaz nor Ghost could stop you both from singing it. No matter how many times Ghost threatened discipline or Gaz told you there were people sleeping, nothing broke through your happy daze. Life was good, it was you and the 141; it was downing dry crappy beer in your favourite pub and telling stories about the times you all fucked up until you were all laughing along. 

All until you passed by your usual sitting spot and noticed König posted up there, watching you walk along like a sentry. Your heart stopped and you stopped walking with it, sending Soap almost clattering to the ground. He was cursing you out and stumbling to his feet, in complete ignorance of the staring contest you held with your former…whatever he was to you. 

König’s back was stiff, body upright and his eyes unblinking at you, glinting in the dark like precious diamonds - hard, sharp edged and dangerous.

Ghost and Gaz froze, they’d been walking up ahead, and turned back when they realised you and Soap were missing, and as soon as Ghost spotted König you could swear you heard him growl. He marched over, boots thudding like gun blasts, and yanked on your arm, manhandling both you and Soap away. You’d tried to look behind you, tried to silently tell König sorry with your gaze, but even that was stopped as Ghost shoved you forward and barked at you to keep moving. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got the biggest hands, LT?” Soap hiccuped, simpering up at Ghost like an idiot. 

“Big enough to strangle both of you if you don’t keep moving,” he’d muttered, eyes trained on you. 

“Mm, some people really like big hands. My ex told me once…” Soap babbled, sent mad with the twelve pints he’d gotten through. “The bigger the hands, the bigger the-“

“That’s quite enough Sergeant!” Ghost interrupted, shoving Soap forward this time. “Both of you get inside and go to your rooms before I play conkers with your heads!”

-💀-

It wasn’t until a few days later that you had another run in with König. You were about to go into the kitchen when you noticed him standing by the counter, in his full hood, making a cup of coffee. To make matters worse, Price was about to walk in at the same time. He’d caught you lingering in the limbo of the kitchen and hallway, your hand gripping the doorway like the room might start shaking. 

Price had smiled at you, finally able to look at you with something other than disappointment, and dropped his expression as soon as he noticed why you’d stopped. It wasn’t for his benefit, he must’ve realised, it was indecision about entering a room with König. He paused too, both of you stuck watching the unwilling Austrian zoo exhibition. It was only when Price walked forward and busied himself with looking in the fridge that you assumed you must be allowed in there too. 

It all felt so ridiculous. The reality of the situation finally kicked in and you had to bite your tongue just to stop yourself from laughing. You were reduced to hiding in doorways and ducking round corners all to avoid a boy that you were forbidden from talking to. Next thing you knew you’d be telling Price you’d done your homework while you figured out a way to sneak out of your window. 

You shook your head, trying not to think about it all and stared down at your shoes the minute König finally looked up at you. He grunted something too low for you to hear and moved aside, allowing you space to make your tea.

In turn, you sighed and took the handle of the kettle in your hand, testing the weight of it to see how much water was left and put it down satisfied that you could make your tea and leave. It was heavy, almost full, the slosh of water against metal was one of the few sounds that pervaded the tense atmosphere of the room. 

You could hear your heartbeat inside your ears, it thudded dully like a warning. You opened the cupboard, hoping to escape the sound as soon as you could, drown it out with a movie and maybe a workout afterward. Though you stopped in confusion when you noticed your tea wasn’t there. 

You frowned for a second until you remembered that Ghost had been fucking with you and Soap ever since that night at the pub. He took to petty revenge instead of anything official, and it was that that had you chancing a look on top of the cupboards, remembering when he’d done this before. Sure enough, you’d only just glimpsed a corner of the berry red packaging, but that was enough to tell you it had been put up out of your reach. Fuck sake.

“Fucking Ghost,” you muttered, hands on your hips like an annoyed teacher.

You refused to drink regular tea. It would be giving in to Ghost, and you were never one to do that unless under order and actively working (even then, you’d apparently shown yourself and everyone else you could rebel against him if the motivation was there). 

You raked your hand down your face and sighed, marching over to the table so that you could retrieve a chair. Though, before you could even pull one out from the table König had noticed your situation and reached up wordlessly, retrieving the box of tea and setting it on the counter. He didn’t say anything after either, but he gave you a butter soft look as if to say I still care. 

It broke your heart - even despite the things you knew about him that made you so angry - you missed him like hell. 

You wanted to hug him and tell him just how much you’d missed him. You wanted to tell him how many times something had happened over the days that made your heart wrench because you wouldn't be able to chat to him about it. You missed his dry comments and evil little laugh, you missed when he’d get overly polite because he’d get flustered talking to you, and most of all you missed having that big muscled body pressed against you in some form another; beside you, up against you, an arm around you, a thigh brushing against yours. His heat was missing, your body had never been so cold.

“You hanging around long, König?” Price asked, voice lilting dangerously.

You gulped, your grip on the chair tightening. You watched as König clenched his fists and regarded the Captain, who was glaring daggers at him. Neither man looked ready to back down, but neither made a move forward. You were glad for it, you didn’t want them to fight in front of you. You didn't like the idea of König shouting. 

“I figured I’d sit for a bit,” König finally said, leaning his heavy frame against the counter, “is that alright, Captain?”

“As long as you don’t mess with my team, you can do anything you like, König.”

“Polite of you to allow that,” König replied, distaste dripping from his tone. 

“I’m a reasonable man.”

König sniffed at that, but he didn’t come out with a rebuttal. Instead he picked up his coffee and left, not in the mood to continue bickering back and forth with Price. You doubted he could last much longer either, his body looked fit to burst by the time he’d gone, ready to tear forward and claim Price’s head for his wall. 

“Fucking KorTac,” Price muttered, slamming the fridge and walking out with a brown can. 

-💀-

A few days later, after a couple more awkward encounters filled with longing stares and unspoken words, you’d been lying on your bed when first contact came. 

You squealed like a school kid. You hadn't expected something to go flying across your floor and to the foot of your bed. At first you’d thought  it was some kind of mouse until you calmed down and realised it was just a bit of paper that had gone skittering across the wood. 

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself.

You hesitantly picked up the note and almost dropped it like a hot potato when you saw the neat looping scrawl on the page. It didn’t look like any handwriting you recognised from your team and instinctually you knew exactly who had written it. Apparently he wasn’t as strong willed as you.

Meet me at The Broken Plough at 8.30, I know the 141 don’t go there.

When you read it finally, you found yourself falling back onto your bed, sending the springs groaning underneath you. The Broken Plough was further out than your usual pub, the one that was usually too full of people to get a seat at. It was charming and had a lot more of a modern touch to it, so it was no wonder more people flocked there, and you knew for a fact that König was going to use that to his advantage. More people meant less prying eyes, it meant crowds that could hide even a massive almost seven foot tall Austrian man. 

“I’m not going,” you said out loud to yourself, perhaps as a command, perhaps as a promise. “I could lose my job.”

Nevertheless, whatever you tried to do by manifesting out loud didn’t work - you ended up worming your way out of the base just before eight o’clock. You walked through the cold night, steps crunching on the frosty grass and found yourself at The Broken Plough just before the agreed time, cursing yourself as you filtered through the crowd and toward the bar, blessedly finding a free chair. 

If you were going to face König after all those days of not speaking, then you needed a drink or two first.

The vodka shot you ordered went down hard and bitter on your throat, however it paved the way for your double rum and coke to go down nice and smoothly. If you were going to put your position at risk, then you’d be damned if you were going to do it sober. It was a necessity really, even through the cold your body had been running hot with worry, and then as you sat at the bar you could practically feel your eyes vibrating as you looked down at the dark liquid in the wide glass, swirling it around and distracting yourself from the chatter of all the people around you.  

“You came.”

You froze, registering the voice coming from your right side. It sounded soft, though you still heard it, completely undeniably coming from the man you’d been forbidden to talk to. His shadow cast itself across the bar and darkened your drink from treacle to tar. It was a shock at first, knowing you could speak to him in safety, and then it was a spark, a kick of lightning as if you’d been put under a defibrillator. You were doing something bad - but you’d don’t care.

You could talk to him again, it was safe. 

Not that you could even find the words to say when you came to the realisation. You hadn’t even looked at him yet. You glanced up from your glass and gasped when you came face to face with him, eyes blowing up like supernovas. 

He wasn’t wearing his hood, or his neck warmer, or even the usual uniform you came to expect him to be in. He was wearing roughed up jeans and a black t-shirt that could barely contain his upper arms, the fabric was straining around his muscles and looked fit to burst. Inexplicably your mouth started to fill, and you had to choke down a swallow just to greet him. 

“König!” you squeaked, still running your eyes up and down his frame. 

You were in disbelief. This was what König looked like? He might as well have appeared naked, you wouldn’t have reacted much differently. You caught sight of every detail you could, cataloguing the scars and bruises that ran along his arms like tiger stripes and leopard spots, gouges and slashes scattered carelessly, disrupting the blanket of fine blonde hair that ran across them. His chest was wide even without all the gear and bags normally strapped across it, his legs still thick without the baggy trousers he normally wore. 

When you finally looked up at his face you caught him staring back at you with an expression crossed half with amusement and half with worry. You supposed he must’ve been anxious about how you’d react, and if you were going to show up at all - and now that you’d come and not said anything beyond his name. Did he think you were going to think better of your decision? 

Certainly not now you’ve seen him looking like that, you thought absentmindedly. He’d even brushed his hair, it sat neatly on top of his head, running all in the same direction. He’d put effort in, he wanted to look good. 

“Are you alright?” he asked finally, breathless. 

“Yeah, just- I just can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now and you look…like that.”

“Like what?” he replied, frowning and looking down at himself as if he’d done something wrong, as if he’d come out with two different shoes or something. 

“Like um- like…” you bit your tongue and looked away from him, taking a sizable drink from your glass. “Good.”

“You think I look good?” he grinned.

König’s face broke out into a full smile, his soft lips and his big eyes making you dizzy. You ached to brush your hand against his jaw and pull him toward you, you wanted to kiss him again. Though you didn’t think you’d get to remain in your refuge for long if you wound up on top of him (or below, you didn’t mind) in public. 

“Yes, you look good,” you said weakly, finishing the rum and coke down to the last sticky sweet drop.

“I figured it’d help if I was less recognisable,” he shrugged, “but if it works for you, then that’s good too.”

“I think people might still have their doubts about the six foot seven Austrian man,” you laughed. 

“What if I lean?” he said conspirtorialy, lowering himself against the bar a little. 

“Oh, much less conspicuous now,” you snorted.

You both chuckled at that, and he straightened up again with a shake of his head. Clearly you’d both missed each other’s company more than you’d realised, and with that realisation you were fighting to keep back a whine and your stomach was filling with butterflies. You were really speaking with König again. He was really there, in the incredibly handsome flesh. 

“I missed you,” you sighed, propping your head against the arm you had leaning on the bar top. 

“I missed you too,” he said quietly. “You have no idea how many times I had to hold myself back from talking to you. It’s been torture.”

“Well I guess I have to thank you for that. I’m only just back in Price’s good books,” you said bitterly. 

“Price,” he grunted. “I still can’t believe it - what happened. He came up to me and told me about your meeting with him, you know, and he said if he caught me talking to you he’d get me kicked off the base for ‘unprofessional’ behaviour. As if that weren’t enough, when I told him to go ahead, he said he’d send you away to another team if you gave in.”

Your mind spun knowing that Price really was serious. If by some miracle Price chanced walking into the pub he swore that he hated, your role in the 141 was going to be dissolved in acid and shut into a barrel. 

“The man knows how to make a threat, I’ll give him that,” you remarked.

“It’s not right!”

You sighed and ran your hand along König’s arm, feeling the hair tickle at your fingertips. He was a spring waiting to release, his muscles corded like he was ready to be unleashed onto the field. They only got tighter as you continued your ministrations, his face was turning unreadable, his breaths labouring in his chest. 

How tightly wound was he? You were just stroking his arm. 

“König, I’m not a fan of the decision either, but…I understand why he asked it of us.”

“What?” he growled, standing away from your reach. 

“I know that what happened wasn’t exactly a live or die situation, but realistically it could’ve been. There could’ve been men we didn’t know about and they could’ve gotten to Soap and Gaz while I was off distracting Ghost. It could’ve been bad. It could-”

“Any situation could turn into anything, it doesn’t mean you should ban people from speaking to each other like you’re some kind of fucking teacher or something, he shouldn’t have that power.”

“He’s the Captain, he has that power for a reason, he has to do what’s best for his team,” you sighed. “Even when what’s best is really shitty.”

König looked like he could go on, but he saw the way that you were staring back at him and dropped it, looking utterly defeated. He clenched his jaw and looked around the bar, catching the faces of the people that milled around and seemed to be deep in thought. His brows had a little knot in the middle, just a little something you picked up, he was concentrating hard. 

“If you agree with his decision then why did you come and meet me?” he asked, finally talking again. 

“Because, I care about you. I couldn’t just never speak to you again - after everything y’know?”

He bit his lip.

“You still care about me even after all those things you said?”

It was your turn to go silent. You suppose you’d been expecting it to come up, but then again you were praying that it wouldn’t. Trying to explain the multitude of crossed wires and screaming signals in your mind was too difficult. You still didn’t like what went down, or the kind of work he did, but given more time to reflect, you were able to distance yourself from the situation and appreciate what he’d said that night before you'd kissed him. The person on the field and the person in front of you were separate although intertwined, they were day and night.

Inexplicably you wanted to stick around for the daytime, despite the darkness he was capable of. 

“I don’t know where I fall on it all, but… I know that I missed you after not getting to speak to you for a week. I know that I thought about that kiss we had and I felt my lips go tingly every fucking time i did, and now that I say it out loud its really cringy, but you know what? It’s what happened. I think about you all the time, whenever I watch dumb videos and see someone out on a hike somewhere or reviewing some completely over portioned food place I think of you. I think about you and your pictures you show me, and the stories you’ve told me and I drive myself insane thinking about dates we could go on and things I wanna tell you about myself and I just…I want you. I want you in spite of it all. I never want to leave the 141, unless I absolutely have to, but I don’t want this to be the last time we ever speak either.”

König listened to you intently, his face grew soft and he drifted ever closer to you with each word that you said. His hands hovered across the bar and over onto you, warming your flesh as they grasped your thighs and they drew up to your shoulders.

As soon as you’d finished speaking he was kissing you again, and you were losing yourself to him, breathing him in, Soap and citrus and spice. You wove your hands through his hair and felt the slicked back strands separating through your fingers like grass in the summer. You held him close and kissed him deep, the burn of spirits that still coated your tongue dying as he replaced them with his own sweet taste.

When you separated, you were both breathing heavily, marathon level gasps were leaving your lungs, but you didn’t think much about it. You could feel how blown out your pupils were, you were sure they looked just like his. You smirked at him, and he smiled back, his eyes crinkling. There was still a little paint left behind in the creases. 

“I don’t think that should be our last kiss,” König murmured. 

“I don’t think so either…”

“Then what do we do?” He sighed.

You paused for a moment, feeling horrified at the thought of what you were about to say. Although, even with your mind racing and your heart thundering, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“You’re free some weekends right?”

Next Part Here

#König #König x reader #konig x reader #konig #könig fanfiction #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare fanfiction #mw2

[writingoddess1125]

Welcome! Request: CLOSED

My name is JC and I love writing!

KOFI

I Write Mostly Angsty Slice of Life but always open to request!

Masterlist below -

10/28 updated

MARVEL

XMEN

Kurt Wagner

1999 (Ongoing)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Pt. 4

Pt. 5

Blowin Me up (Ongoing)

Pt. 1

ONE PIECE

You Take Care of Their Hair

You get High with Them

Old Men Series Masterlist

Zoro,Luffy,Corazon Child Series

Crocodile, Law, Sanji Child Series

You Take their Hat

You Cook for Them Even though You such at It

How Strong the Old Man Gene's Are

They Lay on your chest

You give them a Massage

You give them Facemask

Drunk + Spiked

The Moment they fell in love with you

Just a Peak

You Die at Birth

(S)cream

Weird Relationship Milestones

Buggy The Clown I'm your Biggest Fan (Completed)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

My Heart Breaks (Completed)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Theater Brat (Completed)

Theater Brat

Theater Bart Pt. 2

Theater Brat Pt. 3

Fell In Love Alone (Ongoing)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Jessica and Roger Rabbit Effect

Part 1

Part 2

My Anchor

Solo Act

Not Flashy

Your Seat Awaits

Trouble Comes in Pairs Pt. 1

NSFW Alphabet

Buggy find out about thirst traps

Buggy finds out about thirst traps pt. 2

Not all Silver and Gold

Pain and Pleasure

Switch Things Up

Boardwalk Artist

Poppy Kisses

First Bounty

Modern AU Buggy -> Part 2

Secret Headcanon

Ocean Eyes

Drunk teasing with bestie

You get him a Corgi

Paints on S/O

Roronoa Zoro

Favorite Bartender

N$FW Alphabet

New Parent Zoro

Dancing With Swords (Ongoing)

Part 1

Luffy D. Monkey

Luffy realizing he's in love with you

Warm Mornings

Thunder Buddies

Sanji

Moral Support

Friend Like Me

A Girl to Love

Usopp

Bar Adventure

Shanks

Tag Youre It

You remind me

My Shooting Star

Mihawk

Call Me Sir

Only Us

NSFW Alphabet

Tag Youre It

My heart lies with you

Fight for pleasure

Look up Darling~

Daddy Mihawk

How and Why?

Crack

Morticia and Gomez Effect

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Its Done

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Crocodile

So Annoying

MISC.

Capitan Kuro X Reader

Alvida X Reader

VIKINGS- Coming Soon

CALL OF DUTY

Relationship Fluff

Medic of 141

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Dumb cat that loves Simon

Finds out about thirst traps

Blip on the Radar (Ongoing)

Part 1

Part 2.

John 'Soap' McTavish

Koing

Finds out about thirst traps

But do have other interest and willing to write about other Animes, Cartoons, Shows and More!

#marvel imagine #anime imagines #vikings imagines #one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #one piece zoro #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #hvitserk fanfic #ubbe imagine #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner