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websterss · 4 months

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐆 — 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒: Can I do a request for Cole Walter where he and the reader are about to sleep together for the first but she figures that he just will hook up with her and go back to Erin. But he actually has feelings for her and he found out it is her first time ever so he makes sure to tell her that he actually has feelings for her. (Some mature content if you’re cool with that)😏

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Angst, fluff, only indication of smut at the end, no actual smut.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,804

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Cole Walter x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! I don't how to feel about this lmfao. Listen I suck at smut so I'm sorry there isn't any my love. Also, I don't do taglists anymore guys!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

If there was one thing you couldn’t let go of it was trying and not being able to have a conversation with Cole. You found it difficult since he had been avoiding you like the plague. He’d brush past your shoulder in the halls, and if you locked eyes in public he was already walking the other way. Your friendship has been one for the history books. A long-lasting friendship since elementary, but you wondered when and if your bond was soon to expire. You wanted to keep trying though because trying meant you wouldn’t have to lose Cole for good.

You had had your doubts the second Katherine had invited you to attend Haley and Will’s wedding. Your doubts clouded your mind as you felt your presence and attendance would cause a great deal of stress or frustration for Cole. Seeing as how he didn’t want to talk to you, you did your best to stay far away, sit far, but even then you watched as he left in the middle of the dancing. Heading towards the barn. You had wished you had gone after him sooner, but you waited, waited till everyone was asleep. Anxiety was all you felt as you faced his workshop shed. The light was on indicating that he was in there but if it hadn’t been for the banging and clanging of tools against metal you would have assumed otherwise. It was only one foot after the other. You thought to yourself. Some part of you told you to run and turn, but he was alone and in his element, this would have to be your only time to get your chance. You had to be brave, and strong, but you were not at the moment so you went head first, heart second. You had opened the door and made your way inside. You complicated whether to make your presence known but it ended up being one hesitant knock followed by two certain ones. You had barely made your way into the area before his voice made you halt in your tracks.

“Didn’t expect you to be hanging around still. It’s late, shouldn't you be on your way home by now?”

“H-How’d you know it was me?” You gape at him like a fish out of water, not having expected him to speak first.

“You’re the only person I know that knocks after walking into a room.” He continued to twist a bolt. “Plus you do things in threes.”

You gaped at him. “No, I don’t.”

You watched as he turned his eyes towards you, a shit-eating grin on his eyes as he leaned to his left. His hand curls into a fist as he reenacts your entrance. Tapping against the metal for effect.

One… two three.

“Three times.” He smirked, raising his left brow. You wanted to slap him then and there.

“Didn’t peg you as the type to pay attention to things like that?”

“Like what? Like how you scrunch your nose and close your eyes when the sun is in your face, and continue to have a conversation like that. Or how you like to listen instead of speaking when you’re in a group. It's just how observant you are. Or how you do things like knock three times after entering a room.” He chuckles, pointing and mocking where you entered. “Or how you don’t ask or expect anything from anyone because you feel like you’re being a burden. Which you’re not. Or how you go out of your way to help others so much, even though some people don’t deserve to be blessed by your kindness. Or how you prefer bikes to cars cause it means you're helping out the planet a little bit more. Or how you prefer Custard instead of Murphy now because when we were younger Alex said you’d be fine riding him…but then you fell off and you got hurt, and it took a long time to get you to trust us again, and get you back on a saddle. Or… how you’ve been nothing but sweet to me when all I’ve done is treat you like shit.” He slams the hood of his truck down causing you to flinch. Regret fills him instantly. “Or…how you hate loud noises because it reminds you of all the yelling that happens at home.” If your heart could stop you’d have collapsed dead on the floor before him. But it hadn’t, it only skipped and increased in speed because you never thought he'd be so attentive to you.

“Still don’t peg me as the type to pay attention to things now?” He opened his arms out and gave a tight-lipped grin.

“What happened to us?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He brushes past you like he’s done so time after time again. He walked over to his work table looking for a torque wrench knowing the one he needed was over by the truck in his toolbox. He just couldn’t face you right now.

“Cole…will you look at me, please? I’ve been trying to talk to you for months now and-“

“Have you seen my torque wrench anywhere I can’t find it?” He cut you off.

“Cole, I’m serious, if you’d just give me a second-“

“Can we not do this tonight? I need to work on the truck okay? It needed more work after it broke down on me and Jackie the other day and I’d appreciate it if you-“

“Can you just look at me for once, dammit!” You walk over and bang your fist on the hood and flinch. You see his side profile first before his body follows, he raises a brow at you unimpressed.

“On my truck.” He gestures to where your fist rests.

“I have been trying and trying for so long now to get your attention. To talk to you.” You run your hands down your face. “Because I miss you…” You gesture an open hand to him. “I miss my best friend. I miss wanting to know how your day is going or if your knee has been hurting, but I can’t do those things because you don’t give me the time of day.”

“I’ve been busy…” He shrugs.

“Busy right? Yeah, I know what you've been up to.” You close your eyes. “Look Cole, I don’t know if I’ve done anything to make you want to avoid me but if I have then I’m sorry.” You let your head hang forward. “I don’t know what to do anymore…” You hear him before you feel his hands touch your skin gently. In a soft gentle caress, you can’t help but lean into his palm. “I’m sorry…”

“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. I’ve been a jerk okay…I've been a shit friend and an even shit brother, but I’m working on it. I am. Things will be different. Okay, if my speech was anything to go off of, I meant every second of it. Meeting your person…When I met you, nothing, nothing else mattered to me. I should’ve realized it sooner too but when do I pay attention to you.” He joked slightly, causing you to roll your eyes. “I should've held you closer because as my mother likes to remind me constantly. You’re good for me, to me, and way out of my league…” Cole laughed lightly. “I guess what I’m trying to get at is I’m sorry…for everything. I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven for the way I’ve treated you.”

“You don’t.” Cole retreats his hands from your face. Accepting that as your final word. He’d have walked off with a nod if you hadn’t given him the sweet smile he loves seeing on you. “It’s a good thing I forgave you two days ago then..”

“Wait what?”

“Thanks for fixing my bike by the way.”

He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did you know about that?”

“I had to take Luna to the vet since she got out the night before, she came back with a limp, but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, your mom and I chatted and she assumed we were on good terms again and asked if you had given me my bike back yet. It didn't take long to put two and two together. That and I’ve been missing my bike for a week now.”

“Can’t trust her now.” He joked.

“When did you even take it?” You shook your head.

“When did you start asking people for rides again?” He raised a brow at you but laughed as you went to playfully smack him for he was the reason for your lack of transportation. “I was driving the boys home from school when I saw you one day kneeling beside your bike. I wasn’t spying by the way, I just happened to see you in all your damsel ness…” He dragged out the s.

“Right…” You squint your eyes at him in amusement.

“I figured it could’ve been the chain since you complained about it falling out one time, so it was either that or the tires finally gave out because let’s face it, sweetheart, that thing was ancient.” He started walking backwards with a smirk. “It was supposed to be a surprise but I guess now is as good of a time as any.” He grabbed a hold of the sheet that covered it and yanked it off.

Your heart did stop then and there. You gasped quietly as a cherry red bike was presented before you. Cole rolled it over in front of you before pulling down the support lever. Though it had been the basket with a pink bow on it that caught your attention. It was beautiful.

“You fixed it.” You reached a hand out to touch it but left it hanging mid-air. Too scared to ruin it. Break it. “And…painted it?” You raised a confused brow at him.

“No. I got you a new one.” He grinned sheepishly as you looked up at him in shock. “The basket was a personal touch I added to it though. I thought you could use something to carry your backpack and books, and the flowers you deliver on Wednesdays. You’ve always carried your bag on your back so I thought this could help take that heavy weight off your shoulders.”

“Cole…T-This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you…” His heart swelled as you flashed him a smile. You looked back to the bike…thinking he must’ve spent his paycheck on it. You couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing for you.

“You’re welcome bug.” He nodded. “You deserve something nice. Plus your old bike was on its last limb. That and I thought it’d be good for me to get some exercise in. Work the leg out some more ya know. Believe it or not, I don’t remember the last time I ever rode a bike.” He chuckled.

"Bug...You haven't called me that in a long time."

"It's my name for you..."

"Yeah, I know it is..." You mutter softly. You thought about the name for a second before your brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait if you got me a new one…What did you do with the old bike?”

“Ah thought you’d never ask. I fixed it.” He jogged back over to the corner. Rolling over the old rusted red one out. He swung a leg over the seat. “Thought you can use the company on Wednesdays.”

“Keep me company huh?”

“Yeah, I think it’s time I find a new hobby.”

“Sulking bored you out.”

“Among other things…” He shrugs. “I want things to be different.” He cleared his throat and held your gaze.

“I’m happy for you Cole.” You nodded.

“Anyway…Let’s test this bad boy.” He pedaled out a few feet then you both watched and heard as the clank of the chain fell out. It lay on the floor. You looked up in time to meet his gaze. You had to cover your mouth to keep you from laughing.

“Thought you said you fixed it.”

“Yeah…The chain won’t stay. So expect a lot of stopping when we go out on them.” He gave a sheepish grin.

“You took the old one.” You stated. Turning back to your new one with a new sense of warmth and longing.

“You were due for a new one. No way I could keep letting you ride this thing. I mean, look at it!” He judged the rusted two-wheeler.

“Hey don’t make fun. She held out for as long as she could.”

His eyes flickered onto you, lingering on your eyes a little longer before he let his eyes roam to your heels, up to where your dress ended, then his eyes raked back up to your pouty lips. The accidental double entendre wasn’t lost on him. You had held out for him as long as you could too and he’d been nothing but an ass.

“Yeah, she sure did…” He nodded slightly. You hold his gaze for a bit longer then look away.

“For what it's worth. I appreciate you doing this for me.” You grew closer to him, a timid stance as you fiddled with your already chipping nail paint. “I don’t think I can show you just how thankful I am, but all I got is this.” You exhaled, then leaned over to press a kiss against the side of his cheek. Cole closed his eyes wanting the touch of your lips to linger on him a bit longer. You pulled away the slightest, your eyes flickering down to his lips before you averted your gaze. Cole’s chest rose and fell at the sudden change in the atmosphere. He often wondered what your lips pressed against his felt like. Thoughts and questions he probably shouldn’t have had like what did you taste like? What noises he could get out of you. He was hungry for your touch, and he wasn’t about to ruin the opportunity to do the one thing he longed for.

You watched as he stood up from the bike, letting it lean on the support bar. You took a step back as he closed the distance between you two. His hand reached up to find its place again against your cheeks. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” Your breath hitched at his words. “Let me know if you’d like me to stop.”

“Okay…” You had closed your eyes shut as you waited for him to lean in. It was the barely-there brush of his lips that had you gasping for air. It was the effect he had on you. When he was sure you wouldn’t pull away from him, he slid his hand underneath your jaw holding you there as he walked you both to his work table. The wood had met you back as he knelt to pick you up. Your hands slid over and into his locks. Tugging him closer to you as he stood in between your thighs.

“Say the word…” He pulled away from your lips kissing down your jaw, onto your neck. “And I’ll stop.” He breathed out as he took note of each sigh of contentment you let out.

“D-Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” You lifted his chin to have him look at you once more. You curled a hand into his hair and crashed your lips onto his.

“I won’t stop then.” He pecked your lips, pulling back in a teasing manner. You grabbed both sides of his face to press your mouths together, having enough of his playfulness. You just wanted him then and there. You knew you were in for a long evening hearing him unzip his slacks. His belt buckle following next.

“P-Promise this isn’t just a one-time thing. That this won’t be like Erin or any of the other girls you’ve been with. That you won’t leave after this. This is my first time after all.”

“Is that what’s worrying you?” He leaned in and pecked your lips sweetly.

“Would you be upset if it was?”

“No. Thank you for being open and honest about your concerns to me. But I promise you this time it's different, with you it’s different. I feel something when I’m with you, and I don’t want to find out what my life will be like if you aren’t in it any time soon, but as long as you’re game. I’m in this for the long run.”

“I thought Cole Walter didn’t do relationships…” Cole knew you were only kidding by the teasing in your tone.

“Yeah well that Cole didn’t know what love felt like until he met you.”

“You love me?” You grin feeling that warmth spread over your heart once more.

“I love you.” He nodded certainly.

#cole walter #cole walter x reader #cole walter x fem!reader #cole walter imagines #cole walter oneshot #mlwtwb imagines #mlwtwb #my life witih the walter boys imagines #my gif #writings by juls

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storiesforallfandoms · 1 month

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jason doesn’t know ~ eddie munson;stranger things

word count: 3184

request?: no

description: jason doesn’t know that his girlfriend and eddie do it in his van every sunday

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral f receiving, orgasm denial, unprotected p in v), pet names (princess and sweetheart), cheating

based on this song

masterlist (one, two, three)

Dating the captain of the basketball team was great at first. Jason was a great boyfriend in the beginning. He would give you rides to and from school, he’d take you out every weekend, and in general he just seemed very sweet. Besides that, dating him also made you popular by association. You weren’t an outcast or anything before, but you weren’t popular either. So dating Jason definitely elevated your social status.

But, as time went on, things became less and less great. Your date weekends with Jason became less frequent until they stopped all together. The excuse was always that he was busy with basketball practice, but once practice ended he was still blowing you off. He’d still drive you to and from school, and you still ate lunch with him and the team, but you didn’t feel like his girlfriend anymore. You felt like an accessory.

You tried to talk to Jason, but he blew you off. He said a lot of stuff that you could barely remember, but you did remember running away from him in tears. You thought (or maybe hoped) that he would come after you and try to make everything right. But when you got outside the school without the sound of footsteps running behind you or Jason’s voice calling your name, you figured he wasn’t that concerned about the fact that he had hurt your feelings.

That’s when you met Eddie for the first time. Well, when you properly met Eddie. You had seen the metal head in school before, especially interacting with Jason. You had never spoken to Eddie, and you had no issue with him like Jason did. Not that you’d ever tell Jason or his friends that.

You were sat on the stairs crying into your hands when you heard him ask, “Are you okay?”

You jumped, unaware that anyone else was around. You turned to see Eddie leaning against the brick wall of the school. You noticed what he had in his hand. “You’ll get in trouble for having weed on school grounds.”

“Are you going to rat on me, princess?”

The name took you back. He said it sarcastically, but there was something about him calling you that that turned you on a little.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” Eddie asked, coming closer to lean against the railing that separated you both.

“Fuck if I know,” you said. You waved towards the door behind you. “He might be in there, or he might’ve left. Don’t know, and right now I don’t care. I’m sure he doesn’t care where I am either.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”

You scoffed. “Some fucking paradise.”

He didn’t push the matter. Not like you were expecting him to. You didn’t even know each other. You also weren’t expecting him to ask, “Did you need a ride home? Since your douchebag boyfriend ditched you and all.”

You weren’t about to turn down that offer. You kind of couldn’t turn it down really. Your only other option would be to walk home, and you weren’t going to do that if you had someone offering you to give you a ride. So, you followed Eddie to his van. At some point you found yourself opening up to Eddie about your issues with Jason. He didn’t poke or prod for an explanation, but your emotions were bottled up for so long that you just needed to get them out. And Eddie just listened. He didn’t let his personal bias towards Jason get in the way.

And then you were kissing Eddie. You weren’t sure if it was because he was actually paying attention to you, or because you were so frustrated that you just needed to do something. Or maybe it was both of those things, plus the fact that Eddie was extremely attractive. Either way, you were kissing him.

And then you were in the back of his van, underneath him.

You were going to break up with Jason. You were still mad at him anyways, but you knew you had to break up with him after cheating on him. You didn’t expect anything else to happen with Eddie (although you wouldn’t be mad if anything did happen), but you knew it wouldn’t be right to continue your relationship after cheating.

That was the plan anyways. Until Jason showed up at your house the next day with flowers as an apology. He drove you to school, he showered you with all the love and affection that you had been missing the last month. You were so taken with everything Jason was doing that you were foolish enough to think things were actually changing. You had completely forgotten about your time with Eddie, until he came sauntering up to your locker between classes.

Your eyes widened as you looked around to make sure that Jason or his friends weren’t around. “Go away. I can’t be seen with you.”

“So I heard,” Eddie said. “You’re all lovey dovey with your prince charming again. Does he knew you were screaming my name yesterday?”

Your thighs clenched together at the memories from the day before. You shook your head and backed away from Eddie. “It was a mistake. I was angry, and it was unfair of me to use you to blow off steam. I’m sorry, but we can’t do it again Eddie.”

Eddie gave you a look, and then, to your surprise, he chuckled. “I’ll see you next time, sweetheart.”

As he was walking away, someone threw an arm over your shoulder. You jumped and looked up at Jason, who was scowling at Eddie’s back. “What did the freak want?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Just asked about one of our classes.”

Eddie was right, though. There was a next time.

It didn’t take long for Jason’s affection to wither away again. And, once again, when you tried to talk to him about it, he brushed you off. You hoped that things would go as they had last time, with Jason apologizing and realizing his wrongs. But the next day, you were left waiting on your front steps for Jason to arrive. By the time you realized he wasn’t coming and you’d have to walk, you were already quite late for class. You were nearly in tears from embarrassment when a familiar van pulled up beside you.

“Get in, sweetheart.”

You didn’t make it to class that day. Instead, Eddie parked his van and you fucked until you knew no other feeling than his cock nestled inside of you.

There was no explanation for why you didn’t break up with Jason. You didn’t love him anymore, and he certainly had no feelings for you. At some point, you figured it was just for show. You’d hold hands in the hallway, you’d cheer for him at his games, you kissed in the lunchroom. But there was no love between the two of you. Instead, your heart belonged to the curly haired metal head that took you far away in his van and made you feel so good with every touch.

One Sunday afternoon, you were home alone when you heard a horn honk outside. You peered through the living room blinds to see the brown and cream van that had become your favorite place to be. Eddie was stood outside, leaning up against it with a cigarette hanging from his lips. You smiled and quickly rushed out the door.

“I’m home alone today,” you told him. “You can come in instead if you’d prefer.”

“I like going in my van,” he said. “It’s like our own little paradise.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Eddie drove you both to your usual spot; a dirt path surrounded by trees tat no one besides stoners ever went down. The second the engine shut off, your face was in Eddie’s hands and he was kissing you so passionately that you became lightheaded. You undid your seatbelt and moved to straddle him without breaking the kiss. His hands moved to your waist, holding you. You ran your hands through his hair, gently tugging it like you knew would drive him crazy.

“Let’s get in the back,” he suggested.

You didn’t have to be asked twice. You quickly got off his lap and moved to the back of the van while Eddie was still unbuckling his seatbelt. You were already taking your shirt off when Eddie finally joined you. You were about to take your bra off, but Eddie grabbed your hands to stop you. “You know that’s my favorite part.”

He guided you to lay down on the pillows and blankets he had added to the van shortly after you two had started hooking up. He gave you a quick kiss on the lips before moving to attack your neck with kisses. He was careful not to leave marks that would be visible, but the moment he reached your breasts, he bit and sucked as he pleased. He reached under you to pop your bra clasp open. He pulled it off and tossed it into the front, then took your nipple in his mouth while he kneaded your other breast in his hand. You moaned at the feeling of his tongue running over the sensitive nub.

After leaving your chest marked, he continued to move down your body. As he kissed over your stomach, he pulled at the waistband of your pants. You lifted up so he could pull them and your panties off in one go. He started kissing you painfully slowly over your mound, then over both of your inner thighs. You were trembling with anticipation, and a whimper involuntarily slipped from your lips.

Eddie chuckled. “Is there an issue, sweetheart?”

“P-Please, Eddie,” you whimpered. “I-I need to feel you.”

“Well, how do I say no when you ask so nicely?”

You gasped as he licked a long stripe up your clit. Your fingers gripped his hair as he began to eat you out like he was a starving man and you were his first meal in days. His fingers dug into your thigs, leaving creasant shaped marks in the soft skin. You threw your head back and moaned in pleasure. Eddie knew how to make you feel so good in ways that no other guy had ever made you feel. Actually, he was the first guy to go down on you in general. You didn’t know how good it would feel until his mouth was on you the first time.

Your mind went completely blank. All you knew was the feeling of hot pleasure coursing through out body. Your head was thrown back on the pillow beneath you as you moan into the small space. It was one of many reasons you loved Eddie’s van: you didn’t have to worry about being quiet. You could tell him just how good he was making you feel in whatever volume you wanted. And right now, he was making you feel so good that you felt like you were going to float right to cloud nine at any second.

You could feel yourself nearing the edge when Eddie suddenly pulled away from you. You let out a noise that could only be classified as a whine as you looked up at him. He was grinning down at you with that stupid teasing grin that you loved so much.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he said. “I want to feel you on my cock when you cum.”

He leaned down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth. He was pressing himself against you, his still clothed hard on rubbing against your sensitive core.

“This seems unfair,” you told him, tugging at his shirt. “I’m all naked and you’re still fully clothed.”

“When have I ever been fair?” he asked. But he pulled away from you to pull his shirt off. You admired his tattoos as he started with the belt on his jeans. He noticed you looking and smirked. “Like what you see?”

“You say that every time,” you teased. “And the answer is always yes. I love your tattoos.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. He had managed to get out of his jeans without you noticing, and now you were both completely naked, flush against one another. You could feel his hard cock pressing against your thighs. You reached between the two of you and wrapped your hand around the base. Eddie moaned as you pumped his cock a few times. You were already so wet from him going down on you that when you pressed the tip against your entrance, he was able to push into you without problem. You both moaned as he slowly pushed into you, filling you completely.

“You feel so good,” he whispered against your lips. “Fuck, I could stay like this forever.”

“Please Eddie, m-move,” you begged.

“Ask me once more with those pretty words, sweetheart.”

“Please! Please, I need you so bad.” You’d be embarrassed with how desperate you sounded if you weren’t already on the edge of an orgasm again just from the feeling of him inside of you.

He kissed the tip of your nose and did as you asked. It was slow at first, pulling all the way out at a painfully slow pace until just the tip was inside of you, and then thrusting inwards just as slow until he was buried inside of you again. his pelvic bone brushed against your clit in a way that was driving you crazy. Eddie lowered his head to your neck and began to kiss every inch of skin that he could reach again. The warm pleasurable feeling returned, running through your entire body from your head to the tips of your toes. Your nails were digging into his back, but you knew he was going to wear those scratch marks with pride. The last time you had marked him, he went to school in a tank top the next day just so everyone could see.

A string of expletives fell from your mouth as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Eddie was whispering words of praise and encouragement in your ear, and it was enough to finally tip you over. You cried out his name as you tensed around him. He groaned into the crook of your neck at how good you felt. Your head was so foggy with lust that you almost didn’t register when his thrusts started to pick up speed, and then when they became a little sloppier.

“Can I cum inside?” he asked.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please, Eddie, please cum in me.”

He pressed a kiss hard against your lips as his hips stilled, spilling himself inside of you. Your chest heaved with every labored breath you took. Your bodies were stuck together with sweat that you hadn’t even noticed was collecting on you till that moment. When Eddie pulled away from the kiss, his lips were swollen. His hair was a mess, and he was also quite sweaty, but he still looked like the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

When he smiled, it made your heart flutter.

You almost wanted to mirror the words he said earlier about staying that way forever, but Eddie eventually pulled himself from you as he started to go soft. He reached into the front of the van where he kept towels for your rendezvouses. He placed one under your hips as you felt his load starting to slip out of you. Once he had himself wiped down, he reached into the front again to roll down both windows. Immediately, the feeling of cool fresh air filled the van.

Eddie laid down next to you so that your shoulders were touching. This was always the weird part. You never cuddled after having sex, but you really wanted to. But that wasn’t what you two were doing, right? This was just hooking up. He wasn’t your boyfriend. But you wished he was.

Eddie nudged you with his elbow and you looked over at him. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

“Nothing,” you said.

He gave you a look. “It’s not nothing. You get this look on your face when you’re deep in thought. What’s up?”

You were touched that he had noticed something so simple. In all the time you had been dating Jason, he had yet to pick up on any of your cues.

“What would you do if I broke up with Jason?” you asked.

Eddie shrugged. “That depends. What would you want me to do?”

“No, that’s not fair. I want to know what you would want. I’m already sneaking around with you behind my boyfriend’s back, it’s not fair if we’re doing all of this my way.”

He smiled. “Well, for the record, I’m not mad that we sneak around behind Jason’s back. It’s actually kind of nice to just have these moments to ourselves.”

He ran the knuckle of his index finger over your arm, causing you to shiver at the feeling.

“But, if you did break up with Jason, I would be first in line to ask you out on a real date.”

“There would be no line,” you told him. “Because you’d be the one I’d pick anyways.”

Eddie’s smile was the brightest thing you had ever seen. And it was contagious, because you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“I feel stupid that I haven’t done it already,” you told him. “I don’t know, I think it’s just the image of being the captain’s girlfriend that stops me, but even that isn’t fun anymore. What’s the point of holding an image if you’re not happy?”

“There is no point. But, I wouldn’t push you to break up with him if you don’t want to. I get it if you’re not ready to plunge into loser territory by dating me.”

You rolled onto your stomach to look at him. “That’s not it at all. I don’t care what your social standing is. I just care about you. I want to be with you.”

“You just have to figure out how to not be with Jason anymore.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I thought it was going to be that hard, but now I’m thinking I’d be doing him a favor if we broke up. He’s quite literally had his eyes on Chrissy Cunningham for weeks now. I don’t know what his problem is that he won’t end the relationship first and just get with her.”

“I can’t blame him there. Chrissy is hot.”

You swatted his arm. “Fuck you!”

“You already did, princess.”

He took you by surprise as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down to him. When he kissed you this time, it wasn’t just a kiss of lustful passion. It was gentle and sweet, and then he settled you against his chest with his arm around your shoulder.

And that’s when you knew that things with Jason would be over the next time you saw him. Because you could get used to being happy with Eddie.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #joseph quinn #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #stranger things #imagine #smut #one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 months

Text

CAT-EYES

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

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

WORDCOUNT: 13.3k

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

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

You were sitting in the branches again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until it speaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could outrun him.

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

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

Your lips twitch.

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

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

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

The boar broach winks at you.

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

“Just Johnny—”

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

Blue eyes widen, sure feet faltering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure,” you puff a laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...What was that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Find him!”

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

“Here!”

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

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

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

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

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

You blink, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your sharp eyes hone in, unwavering in its heat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your thin lips tell him all he needs to know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You frown, gut swirling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted that damn boar broach.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No family?”

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

The man grunts. “M’sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I supposed to be insulted or not?”

“I leave that for you to decide.”

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

Your face softens slightly.

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

And you don’t understand why.

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

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

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

“You called me strange.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But you’re not stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tears slip from over your cheeks.

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

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

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

“Just make it quick.”

John’s lips thin. “Yes, Ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Free, free, free.

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

Wasn’t it?

Your eyes slip to Johnny.

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

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

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

You knew you were a selfish person.

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

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

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

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

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

Your lips are near his ear.

“When I say ‘go,’ run to the left.”

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

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

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

Your attention is split three ways.

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

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

They take a step forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That one?”

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And, of course, follow directions.

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

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

“I know I am.” You huff, smiling.

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

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

He’d called you Cat-Eyes.

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

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

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

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

“Seems so, Cat-Eyes.”

Your matching glares hold no venom.

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

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

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

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

Your head tilts, eyes narrowing.

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

A just Lord and a cunning thief.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t say no to that.”

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

Johnny hands over his boar broach to the doctor.

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

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

Your eyes inexplicably snap to Johnny.

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

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

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

Or maybe there was a reason.

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

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

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

Maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Always a thief, never a saint.

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

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

You lick your lips.

“Do one thing for me, hm?”

“Anything,” John mutters, not blinking.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not yet.

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

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

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

And then you’re gone.

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

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

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

Yet, his hands touch something far more precious.

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

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

“What in the…” He already knows.

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

John smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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yovrnewromantic · 2 months

Text

THE LINE—

pairings: steve harrington x henderson!reader

1 — part 2 coming soon…

words: 3.6k

Summary: You realize the line between love and hate is very thin as you babysit and monster hunt alongside Steve Harrington.

Leaning pathetically against your locker, you banged your head against the metal, tugging on the end of your cheerleading skirt that got caught in the door when you slammed it shut. It’s your fault really, you were so happy to get it open for once. Of course, it had to be too good to be true.

“Need some help with that?”

Your lips swerved into a smile at the familiar voice, leaning away from your locker to look at one of your favorite girls.

“Yes, Nancy. Please!” you pleaded, laughing as the girl stepped forward, easily opening your locker door, not even needing to ask the combination from the amount of times she’s had to open it.

Nancy Wheeler smiled smugly when your locker opened, releasing you and your skirt.

Nancy had been one of your best friends since you moved to Hawkins along with Chrissy Cunningham and Heather Holloway. At twelve years old, you were anxious, but to your surprise, extremely charismatic. You found friends like wildflowers, something you loved, but Nancy was one of the best. She was like a rose, beautiful and smart, something that drew you to her in the first place.

“My savior! How could I ever repay you?” you joked, mocking a princess before laughing at your own joke, tugging your books tighter to your hip.

Nancy grimaced. “Well,” she started, and your brows furrowed, making you feel uneasy, “Firstly, by not being too mad…”

Nancy shoved a note in your face. You squinted reading the words that alert you that King fucking Steve was waiting for your best friend in the bathroom, wanting to make out. Gross.

“Ew,” you stated, playful smile turning into a pout. Your shoulders slumped, concern kicking in rather than disgust. “Harrington? Really, Nance? You could do so, so much better.”

To you, Steve Harrington was the worst person at Hawkins high. A real player who had absolutely no consideration for anyone’s feeling but his own and his stupid little posse. Generally a piece of shit.

“You owe me,” she mutters, shrugging her shoulder to try to rid her mind of what you were implying, what she had already been anxious about.

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” you say softly, trying not to hurt the poor girls feelings, but really you were just trying to help.

“And why’s that?” she asks, on the defensive.

You shake your head, holding yourself back from rolling your eyes. “He’s a bad idea,” you state simply. “He treats girls like shit and you know better to accept that.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know that he dumped Charlotte after he had sex with her,” you offered, looking at her with a raised brow. Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Well, that’s Charlotte. And I’m going to see him,” she announces, a little like she’s singing.

Sighing disappointedly, the bell rings in your ears. Great, you’re late.

You give Nancy a look already walking backwards towards your first period. “Make good decisions. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

“You wouldn’t go out with him the first place!” she calls back, looking at you with a playful expression.

“Exactly.” You smile, finally turning around and heading to your class. When you fully turn, your smile disappears.

Something about Steve makes you anxious, fills your body with unease whenever you two make eye contact when your both at your lockers. You hate the way he smiles smugly at you. And you hate that he’s going after another one of your friends, the fear of her getting hurt makes your stomach ache.

This time, if he hurts her, you hurt him.

And that’s exactly what happened.

You were on your evening walk, frowning at the missing poster you see of Will Byers, your little brother’s best friend and Johnathan Byers, one of your best friends, brother. It’s a saddening sight, especially since the young boy’s funeral. Absolutely heartbreaking.

Frustration is throbbing through your body. You feel helpless, unable to find the boy despite having helped put up posters and searched through the woods countlessly.

You were also angry with yourself for allowing your brother out of the house when you heard the news, letting him and his friends set out in search for him themselves because your heart ached looking into your brother’s teary eyes as he begged you not to tell mom that you caught him sneaking out.

It was stupid, that you told him to keep his walking on him, stay with his friends, and to stay safe or you’d fucking kill him. You’re a shitty sister.

You were an idiot. An idiot people pleaser who never knew when to say no to her friends and family. It was stupid that when your empathetic heart feels their pain you resort to the worse stress reliever, and contradictory to your guilty conscience, violence.

“Harrington, you better get your ass down from that ladder right now!”

You saw him from a mile away, the words spray painted on the movie theatre that you would always take your brother and his friends. The only thing you could make out of it was that Steve fucking Harrington was caught defaminating one of your best friend’s names while vandalizing the cinema.

Steve’s eyes went wide at the sight of you, the beautiful girl who ignored and criticized his every move. His ex-girlfriends best friend. His heart raced at your angry expression. His cheeks probably got a little red too.

“Henderson, what the hell are you doing here?” he asked, sponge pausing its movement to look down at you. Steve had completely forgotten what it looked like had happened, oblivious to everything else around him, his entire focus on you. His fake innocence only made you angrier.

Ignoring his question, you fumed, “Get your ass down or I’m pushing you off this damn ladder!”

Steve’s eyes widened as he muttered curses under his breath, quickly climbing down from the ladder. You pretended that seeing his face bloody and bruised didn’t make your stomach ache.

“Jesus, what your pro—,” You shoved him, and he stumbled back, arms stretched out as his back hits the ladder, “blem!”

“You wrote this? You called Nancy a slut?!”

You pushed him again, and he stumbled again, still looking at you like you’re crazy. He caught your wrists when you went to push him again.

Your hands were held at his chest, pulling you into his chest despite how you try to plant your feet, to stay away from him. Steve still has an bizzare look on his face as he looks down at you, cheeks pink and he’s slightly out of breathe from how he scrambled to grab your wrists. Steve rapidly shakes his head, blurting, “What? No! No, I didn’t!”

You let out a scoff, nodding sarcastically as if you believed him. “So… you just cleaning it up? Bullshit,” you spit, and Steve looks almost hurt by your insinuation.

“Yes! “ He announced, running a hand through his hair when you tugged your wrists free. “I didn’t write this!”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you looked at him accusingly, like he was stupid. “Then who did, Harrington?”

“Tommy.”

“Oh, you’re best friend!” you exclaimed, “That totally makes so much of a difference.”

“No, Henderson, — I.” He groaned. He glanced around, breathing out of his mouth before he pinched his nose. “I should’ve stopped him, I know, but I’m cleaning this up now. I’m trying to fix it.”

“Because you got caught?”

“No! I just—,” he shook his head. “I’m not… friends with those assholes anymore. I just wanna help.”

Really? you thought to yourself. Your nose scrunched as you scanned him up and down for a second with repulsion. He’s not friends with Tommy and Carol anymore? That’s hard to believe.

Your interrogation seemed never ended, and you still had the urge to punch him in the face despite the cuts and bruises that stand prominent on his handsome face. You wet your lips, ignoring your natural concern and continuing. “Help? Help what?”

“I wanna apologize,” he said. “To Nance.”

“Really?” you deadpanned. Steve arms waved wildly before he poked to fingers into his forehead, closing his eyes.

“Yes, I’m sorry. Is it that hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is, King Steve,” you scoffed, before you let your thoughts slip into your words. You switch your footing, voice quieting ever so slightly when you ask, “What happened to your face?”

He paused.

“Byers,” Steve replied embarrassed, not even looking at you as your eyes widen.

“Really?” You sound surprised, and you are. The boy who’s been the nicest to you, one of your best friends ever since you’d gotten to town. Your babysitting buddy. The boy who’s brother was missing.

“Johnathan did that?” You ask. When he nods, you hum. “You deserved it.”

“I know.”

Humming, you look at Steve for a second, checking out his bloodied face and red knuckles. Next to his foot is the sponge he was using, it’s turning red and it looks like it’s decomposing from overuse. It makes you clear your throat when you catch his eyes again.

Quietly, almost whispering, you ask, “Do you love her?” You gulp, specifying, “Nancy?”

He sighed, and he looked at you for a good minute, clearly contemplating. Truth be told, he didn’t know. She was… different from his other girlfriend.

Steve would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t like you. He knew he did, since last year and you walked in wearing a pretty little sundress and gave him attitude when he offered to be your prince charming and open your locker. Maybe he liked Nancy a lot, but he didn’t know if you could love someone and stare at their best friend when their back was turned.

He swallowed, shrugging. “I don’t know.”

You don’t like him. You don’t like him. You don’t like him.

Steve’s word make you nod to yourself, ignoring the relief you feel that he’s not in love with her for Nancy’s sake. Clearly, Steve was a shitty teenage boy, and even worse boyfriend, but you believed in change.

“You really want to make things right?” you question, still trying to keep your guard up despite how you feel them crashing down around you. Goddammit, you hate Steve Harrington.

“Yes,” he groaned, meaningfully.

In your head, you were screaming. Blood curdling, a homicide victim type of screaming, and it’s so loud, so so freaking loud that you couldn’t hear your own thoughts. Maybe, that’s why you make a dumb decision.

You shrug, already turning around to start walking. “Okay, then. Let’s go.”

“Wait, what? Where?”

“To go see Nancy,” you scoffed, as if it was common knowledge. Impatiently, you said, “Come on, I don’t want to be seen with you.”

You trudged forward, once white sneakers thumping against the sidewalk. Behind you, you can hear Steve jog forward, eager to catch up with you.

It doesn’t take long, but the moment he’s beside you, words spill from his lips, quickly. “I— I have my car.”

Pausing in your step, you begrudgingly looked at Steve, quite relieved that you don’t have to walk all the way to Jonathan’s house. “Okay. Where?”

“Over here,” Steve says, almost out of breath as he points to his car. You head towards it without a second thought, harshly pulling on his passenger car door and glaring at him when it doesn’t open.

Steve looks at you strangely, kinda of afraid of you, and he puts his key in before opening the door for you. You don’t look at him, not even when he gets inside the driver seat and starts the car, too busy staring out the window.

“Do you, um, want any music?” Steve stutters, looking at you hesitantly. You roll your eyes.

“You not talking is enough for me,” you smile, sarcastically.

“Oh,” Steve deadpans, biting his lips at he turns away from you, ready to drive.

Great, now you feel bad. You offer, “What do you have?”

“Yeah— yeah, I have Beat It, some AC/DC, Uptown Girl—

“Uptown Girl, please,” you cut him off. Your casual manners make Steve blush. You don’t even notice that you said it, and it reminds Steve how good you are. You were solid good.

A good girl.

A nice girl.

And one who wants nothing to do with him.

Go figure.

Steve realizes how fucked up his mind is as his knuckles turn white on the stirring wheel. He starts to drive, listening to you hum while starring out the window, sometimes cutting yourself off to tell him directions to Jonathan’s house.

When he asked why there, you said that he had to apologize to Jonathan first. He listens to you for reasons he could not comprehend, because he found himself trusting you despite how much you must hate because he knows you.

In the hallways, he’d watched you tell freshmen directions, laugh on your way to class, help kids who would drop things. You’d barely notice the boys that trailed after you that you thought were only friends, and he’d watch you scold them whenever they were mean to some freak, or nerd, or geek, in the halls.

You were nice. The nicest girl at that damn school, and unbeknownst to you, The Queen Of Hawkins High.

He can’t keep his eyes off you, and he’s never felt guiltier. He let his friend call his girlfriend a slut while he was yearning to kiss her best friend on the way to apologize to her. There was something wrong with him. Steve shook his head, letting his eyes part from you and focus on the road.

The drive was slow, but the moment the car parked in the Byers’ driveway, you were quick to usher Steve out.

“Go,” you wave.

“What?” Steve’s heart races. “Right— right now?”

“When else?” you blink.

“Shouldn’t we rehearse something?”

You sigh, holding back a much needed eye roll. A fake smile props on your lips. “‘Jonathan, I’m sorry for fighting you in the middle of the street. That one’s on me,’” you say. “‘Oh, and I feel bad for smashing your camera to little bits. How about I buy you a new one with my daddy’s money?’” You drop your smile. “That good?”

“The camera wasn’t my fault,” he justified.

“I know, I was there. Still, that doesn’t make what you did right, so get out of the car and apologize,” you punctuated.

Steve mouth gaped. Then, he begrudgingly unbuckles his seat belt and grumbles under his breath, stepping out the vehicle. He slams the car door shut.

You snorted a laugh, sinking into Steve’s comfy car seats.

From where your sat, you have a clear viewing of the show. You’re not sure whether or not Jonathan will forgive him. Apart of you hopes he doesn’t. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

What did surprise you was watching Steve, under the warm yellow glow from the Byers house lights, pound on the door and then eventually force his way in.

Hastily, you trailed after him, leaves crunching under your quick feet.

“Steve!” you called once in the door way. “This wasn’t what we talked about…”

The words died in your throat as your eyes scattered across the room, the sight of Jonathan, a shit ton of weapons his living room table and Nancy with a gun pointed at Steve’s face had you had you bewildered.

“You two need to leave now!” Jonathan said, but you were more focused on Nancy’s count down, gun still pointed at Steve.

Before you could think, you were shoving yourself in between Steve, Jonathan, and the gun, hand raised in defense. The mass of Christmas lights around you flickered briskly with your final shout, “What is going on?”

Few words between Nancy and Jonathan end with Steve Harrington, grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the hall into a bedroom as a venus-flytrap looking bear rips apart the ceiling.

“What the hell was that,” Steve yelled along with a variety of curses.

“Shut up!” Nancy and Jonathan shouted, synchronized.

You and Steve shared a feared look.

Pounds and gurgles erupt from the other side of the door until they suddenly stopped. In the silence, Nancy and Jonathan exit the room, Steve and you right behind them.

“Are you going to tell us what that was?” you rasped desperately.

Nancy’s reply was short. “A demogorgon.”

You recognized that name. “Like—,” you brows pinched together. “From DnD?”

“That’s what the boys said.”

“The boys,” you repeated. “Like Dustin, Lucas, and Mike? They know about this?”

“Look, Y/N, I’m sorry but we don’t have time for the questions. It’s going to come back, and you two,” she gestures to you and Steve, “need to leave. Right now.”

Breathing heavy, and with the shake of your head, you said, “No.”

“Yes, go,” Nancy said, stepping closer. You were the same height, she couldn’t intimidate you, not even with a gun in her hand. You weren’t going to leave, especially because of the newfound fear of that thing going after your brother.

“Y/N,” Steve tried, eager for the door.

“No, you go,” you said to Steve then turned to Nancy, “I’m staying so either let me help kill it or I’ll stand here and be bait.”

“Fine,” Nancy said.

Jonathan threw you a lighter. “Throw this into the carpet when it’s here.”

Steve felt pathetic watching the three of you. He didn’t want to leave and be a coward, but he didn’t want to die either. One thought over powered the other and he sprinted to his car, but seeing rapid flickering lights, he forced himself back inside.

After swinging a crowbar at the demogorgon and watching it swallow it whole, you were sure you were going to die. You fell back, squeaking in despair as you did so. The demogorgon’s mouth widen, and you may have gotten a little teary eyed at the sight of Jonathan and Nancy on the floor, looking helpless as well.

But to your shock, Steve Harrington jumped in front of you, swinging a bat like he hadn’t quit baseball in seventh grade.

What happened next was blur, but you remember Steve Harrington forcing you to your feet and the sight of a demogorgon enveloped in flames.

—

With shallow breaths, you sat on the wooden porch in front of the Byers’ house, illuminated by a singular warm lantern, recollecting the previous events. Mind racing, you hardly notice the body next to yours.

Well, until, and hand landed on your shoulder. It’s large, much bigger than your own. Your eyes traced the arm up to its owner, seeing a bloody, concerned face staring back at you.

“You okay?” Steve asked, and your heart swelled the slightest bit at his worry. He had just almost killed himself and he was worried about you.

Your eyebrows twitched, the undying desire to hate him still present. “Yeah,” you choked, “I’m fine.”

Steve nodded. He retracted the hand off your shoulder slowly, which you were grateful for. Nancy and Johnathan’s dull chatter filled the void, the four of you too nerved to fully close the front door.

Clearing your throat, you said, not looking at him. “Thank you for — um — saving my life.”

When Steve spoke, you turned to him. “Anybody would’ve done the same.”

“No they wouldn’t have,” you said, entire body angling towards him. You kept your hands in your lap, tediously explaining, “They would’ve ran for the hills, like you should’ve, but you didn’t. So thanks. I owe you one.”

“Don’t mention it,” he griped, but you shook your head with a scoff, readjusting yourself to look straight forward. You went silent again. Not far from you, you can hear the engine of a car, smell the toxic carbon monoxide polluting the air.

Steve Harrington saved your life. King Steve Harrington saved your life.

Laughing to yourself, you eyed Steve carefully. “I never would’ve taken you for a hero, Harrington.”

“Guess you were wrong,” Steve chuckled. His eyes shone particularly bright in the moonlight.

“Mhm,” you hummed, looking to your lap, “maybe about a lot of things too.”

You hadn’t known why you said that. Steve’s lips parted at your words, a dumbfounded look forming on his face.

“Y/N!”

Immediately, your head whipped to the noise. Your eyes widened with recognition to the voice. “Dustin!” you shouted, voice echoing off the trees in question.

A car pulled up, and in the back windows you could see three smiling faces in the window.

Smiling. They’re okay, you told yourself. And free to yell.

“You boys are so lucky.” The words came out forced, a quiver in your voice at the pure relief you feel, rushing to the boys off the porch and watching the three of them exit the car safely. “You could’ve gotten yourselves killed,” you snapped. “Why didn’t you told me?”

Only after you spoke did you notice their red rimmed eyes.

Your lips twitched into a frown. Swallowing back your own tears, you pulled Dustin, Lucas, and Mike into a hug. “I’m so glad you all are okay.”

Vaguely, blue and red flashing lights pull up onto the driveway of the Byers’ house. Police step out their car with questioning looks. It’s not long before one offers to take you and your brother home.

Glancing behind you, Steve Harrington’s eyes found yours swiftly, as if they had been trained to you this entire time. Hesitantly, you raised your hand, not very high, but just visibly for him to see. You gave Steve a small wave.

He smiled at you, and you were sure that it hurt.

been meaning to write a steve fic for a while. he’s so boyfriend and i’m a huge hopelessly pining/enemies to lovers girly

not my best, probably will rewrite in the future

#yovrnewromantic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve x reader #steve #steve harrington stranger things #stranger things #billy hargove x reader #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #henderson!reader #dustin henderson #dustin henderson x reader #dustin henderson x sister!reader #king steve #king steve harrington #cheerleader

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twilight-orchid · 4 months

Text

Shower Suprise

Jason Todd x gn pregnant reader

Notes: So, I’m currently fighting a war against baby fever and baby daddy jason makes me feral so I decided to write a self indulgent fic. I’m working on a couple sequel fics so let me know if you enjoyed this and I’ll post the others too. I’m not a great writer and have never written for Jason before, so sorry if it’s shit lmaooo

Part 2

Word count: 1730

Contains cursing, unplanned pregnancy, mention of abortion, talk of adoption

Jason had gotten home a little after 4 am. He’d been patrolling the cold, rainy streets since 11 and Gotham had finally grown quiet. His body ached something awful from the numerous fights he’d gotten into that night, and exhaustion had crept into his bones making him feel like he could fall asleep standing up.

He climbed into the window of the dark apartment silently to avoid waking his lover and got out of his gear in the living room. The sound of clanking metal and ripping zippers tended to get noisy. Once in his briefs alone he slipped into your bedroom, pausing for a moment to watch the rise and fall of your chest with a smile on his face. You slept soundly, your hair a nest around your face and your soft snores like a comforting lullaby to Jason.

He reluctantly made his way to your shared bathroom. He’d love nothing more than to just go to bed, but you didn’t like it when he got into the clean sheets with Gotham’s grime on him. And, to be fair, he was pretty gross some nights. He showered quickly, enjoying the steaming water on his sore muscles, then hastily moved to brush his teeth. However, something odd caught his eye as he spat.

There were balls of what looked like clean tissue wadded up atop the trash, which was strange as he’d just changed it before he left. You didn’t have a cold or anything that would constitute using that much. He furrowed his brow, a weird feeling washing over him. Something white and shiny just barely peeked out from underneath, and he moved the tissue aside to reveal not 1 but 4 pregnancy tests. His heart froze, time seeming to stop around him. Dread built in his gut as he grabbed the sticks, and terror settled in as he picked up one positive after another. Holy shit, y/n was pregnant. He’d gotten you pregnant. Fuck.

Something pleasant stirred in his gut but he squashed it down. His child would be in danger every day having him as their father. If anyone found out about his baby, child of the Red Hood and grandchild of the Batman, they’d instantly have a target on their head. Aside from that, he’d be a terrible father. He was gruff without meaning to, he had a short fuse, and he certainly didn’t have any good role models. All he could think about were the ways he could accidentally fuck them up. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice you until you were in the bathroom with him.

He was no longer tired, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he dropped to the floor. Fuck fuck fuck. He couldn’t be a father, he’s Red Hood. He had huge time constraints, anger issues, and most importantly, a lot of blood on his hands. How could those hands, forever stained red, hold something like an innocent newborn in his grasp? A baby, with chunky cheeks and thighs, perhaps with his hair and your eyes.

“Jay?” You asked tentatively. He realized he was hyperventilating. He tried to respond, but he found all he could do is stare at your middle. Your eyes slipped to the floor, taking in the discovered pregnancy tests as he watched your face turn. This is clearly not the reveal you were hoping for. You crouched to his level.

“Jay, can you breathe with me?” He was still lost in his thoughts, buried in his anxiety. But he looked up and met your gaze, your features worried. For him. He closed his eyes and nodded with a shuddering breath.

“Alright babe, in through the nose…. Out through the mouth.” He followed along with you, his hand reaching out. You grabbed it firmly with both of yours without hesitation, running your thumbs along his skin. He usually didn’t like to be touched when he was having episodes, but something about your warmth grounded him. He steadily felt his heart begin to slow down.

You let go with one hand to tenderly cup his cheek, smiling sheepishly at him.

“You’re pregnant.” He said simply. You bit your lip and looked away, but nodded.

“I made an appointment in the morning to get an ultrasound and make sure, but well, 4 positives. Plus, you know how sick and nauseous I’ve been. Emotional, tired, hungry for weird shit…” He cursed under his breath and noted how your shoulders sank. Your hand just barely moved to your belly before you caught yourself, returning it to your side.

“You want the baby.” He stated, though it was more of a question. You sighed in frustration and ran your hand through your hair.

“I don’t know. I don’t feel ready, but I can’t stop picturing a little baby that looks like me and you and I just… I can’t-“ Your resolve crumbled as tears began rolling down your cheeks. He took you into his arms instantly, pulling you onto his lap and letting you bury your head into his neck as you sobbed. He drew circles into your back and whispered reassurances, but his head was spinning.

“I don't know what to do Jay!” You whimpered. He didn’t know either, but he needed to come up with a solution. For you.

A baby. A fucking baby. Bruce would absolutely lose it.

“Well,” he started, his voice calm. He was freaking out, but you didn’t need him a nervous wreck. You needed him strong and steadfast. He took a deep breath.

“There’s allot going on in our heads right now, why don't we break down our options, yeah?” You nodded, still sniffling and sat in his lap to meet his eyes.

“No matter what, I'm not putting a baby in the Gotham foster system. No way.” He started. Gotham had a lot of kids entering its foster system and almost no kids being adopted. Bruce had been trying to help solve the issue for years, but Jason knew if they gave the baby up for adoption, they’d likely have a hard time finding a home. Not to mention the issue still stood that they’d be in danger if their parentage was discovered, except in that scenario Jason wouldn’t even know where they are to help them. You nodded in agreement.

“So that leaves…” you began softly.

“Keeping it or getting rid of it.” He finished. Your lip twisted and fresh tears fell, but you wiped them away.

“I don’t… what do you want to do Jay?”

“It’s your body.”

“And it's your baby.” You responded. That was fair, and he thought about it. There’s no denying it could be dangerous, but there was also no denying that his kid would have the planets greatest protectors on its side. His family would call to arms for his baby in an instant, as would the friends Jason had made through his life. Hell, even the Justice League would defend Bruce’s grand baby. And he wouldn’t repeat his mentor’s mistakes and drag his kid on the rooftops with him. They belonged at home; safe, cared for, and loved. A feeling he reveled in when he was with you. He thought about you holding a toddler in your arms and playing with them, the sound of his child’s laughter echoing through the house. He just knew you would make an amazing parent. Feelings once again rose in his chest, but he didn’t push them down. He let them sit and, once he really thought about it, he kinda wanted to see the little guy live and grow. But ultimately it wasn’t his decision.

“I want what you want.” He finally responded. You groaned in frustration.

“I don’t want you to want what I want Jay. If I say I want it, I don’t want you to agree to make me happy and then feel trapped and then…” you trailed off, looking away from him. He furrowed his brow.

“And then what, leave you? Abandon you to raise my kid on your own? Do you really think I’d do that to you?” His tone sounded almost angry, but he didn’t mean for it to be. He wasn’t mad, he was hurt.

“No, Jay I-“ you sighed and ran a hand through your hair.

“I just don’t want to make you do something huge like this if it's not what you want. And I don’t want to force you to commit to me like that.” He scoffed at you.

“I think we’re well past worrying about me wanting to commit to you, doll.” You stared at him seemingly unconvinced, your fears and uncertainties visibly rattling around your skull.

He sighed. This wasn’t the circumstance he was hoping for, but his gut said it was time.

“You want to see how fucking serious I am about committing to you? Where the fuck are my jeans?” He gently pushed you off of him and told you to stay. He nearly chuckled at the cute, confused look on your face. He grabbed the pants he'd been wearing before patrol and fished his wallet out of his pocket.

“Look at this shit, I’ve been carrying this around with me for months.” You stared at him with a raised brow, wondering what the fuck he was doing. Out of the cash flap he pulled a small pouch of bubble wrap which produced a beautiful engagement ring. It was your picture-perfect ring; you couldn’t have picked a better one yourself. You froze, your breath catching in your throat.

“Jason-“

“No, shut up and listen to me. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone on this god forsaken planet. You are beautiful, and kind, and funny, and so fucking smart. You’ve been there for me at my worst and my best without judgement. You’re one person that I know I can rely on, and I am so proud that you rely on me. I am a lucky fucking man to have you in my life, and if you want this baby I’m with you. And I’ll be the happiest man alive. But if you don’t want it, you don’t. And I’ll be happy with that too. But either way, I love you and I want you to be my one and only for as long as you’ll have me. So, what do you wanna do babe?”

#Jason Todd #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x pregnant reader #jason todd x pregnant!reader #red hood x pregnant reader #batfam #batman #dc comics #dc universe #dcu

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turtlesandfrogs · 3 months

Text

Ok, now I'm really concerned that how to prevent rats isn't common knowledge like I thought it was. So, to anyone whose parents/guardians/adults didn't teach you, here's the basics of prevention*:

Rats, like you, need three things: food, water, and shelter. If they don't get these things, they don't bother sticking around. Access to food is probably the biggest draw, and the one you can do the most about.

Rats eat the same foods you do, and the same food that most pets eat. You don't want them to have access to this food, so:

Don't leave dirty dishes laying around, the smell will attract rats. Don't put leave dirty dishes in your bed room, or under the couch, or in your car, or whatever. Dishwashers are great, but if you don't have a functional one, and you're low on energy/executive function, at a minimum cover your dirty dishes with soapy water instead of leaving them out. Rats can't eat soapy food.

Work to minimize food waste, because the smell of tasty food in your compost or garbage will attract rats.

Don't put food scraps in your indoor garbage unless your garbage can is rat proof. Take it outside asap, to a rat-proof bin.

When composting, if you're composting food that would be attractive to rats (grains, fats/oils, dairy, meat) it's best to: bury the food down in the center of the pile, try out bokashi composting, or have a rat-proof composter. Generally people do tell you not to compost dairy and meat, but I do know that some people do it anyway.

Keep your grains & legumes in rodent proof-containers. Glass jars, metal trash cans, etc.

If you have dogs, put their food away at night. If you have birds or other animals that eat a seed-based diet, then it pays to make their food/enclosures inaccessible to rats as well. Cats are rat deterrents so leaving dry food out for them is probably the one exception.

Clean up spilled foods immediately.

If you have fruit trees (like those apple trees everyone has that were planted 3 or more decades ago) and notice that something besides a deer is eating them, it's really best to pick all the fruit. You probably can't eat it all, so giving it away is a good option. Compost the rotten/icky ones fallowing the advice above, or dig a hole and do some trench composting.

Rats also need water, which is another reason to make sure you don't have any leaks anywhere, and to not leave beverages out in open containers.

Beyond that, thoroughly looking around your house, inside and out, to make sure there's no access points. Vents can be covered with wire mesh, holes the size of a dime need to be patched (because mice exist, too). Keep vegetation clear from around the base of your house, and make sure there's no trees or shrubs growing close enough to your house that a rat could make the leap to your roof. Keep an eye out for tunnels near your house's foundation, because they will tunnel underneath.

Also, while I'm at it, for the love of your house's structural integrity, DO NOT store wood piles against your house. Termites people!!!

And yes, there's a reason why cats are such a common pet. Not only do they hunt rats, the very smell of a cat is enough to deter rats. Do not just get a cat for rat prevention though, only get a cat if you're going to provide it a good home and are able to take on the additional care tasks without over extending yourself. Getting a housemate that comes with a cat is a great alternative to getting your own cat (and I'm only halfway joking).

*because prevention is much easier and much less terrible than dealing with an infestation. Prevention is so, so, so much easier than getting rid of them, particularly because once they're there, they'll start eating other things that wouldn't have been enough by themselves to draw them in.

#adulting #cleanliness is in large part pest prevention

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writing-wh0re · 4 months

Text

“That's my girl, you take cock so well.”

♥ pairing: professor!nanami x professor!reader

♥ summary: Based on this ask “Reader is a new young and fun professor at the college and works in the same hall as Nanami. She challenges Nanami and his old school ways. Nanami ends up folding her up in his expensive car after class ends and makes her submit to him. ”

♥ warnings: smut 18+, oral, female performing oral, spit, slight throat fucking, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, car sex, cowgirl, mention of hickies, slight begging, pet names: baby, little plot with banter.

♥ wc: 2,523

♥ masterlist & taglist

You watch the tall blonde man in awe, with every comment written against the exam, his arm flexes ever so slightly, tensing the muscles with each stroke. God what you would give to feel his arms around your body, his hands on you.

Nanami reaches up to adjust his glasses causing a small panic to rush through you, not wanting to be caught eye fucking the man. You quickly move your mouse around, clicking blindly on the screen, fringing busyness.

“Y/n.”

You look up towards Nanami, embarrassingly quick, your mind in two places, hoping he didn’t catch you.

“I’m half way through these exams, could you cross mark this pile for me?”

You eyes glance over at the stack of stapled paper, at least 30 students work all compiled together.

“Paper exams? C’mon Nanami, that’s just punishing yourself.”

Nanami smirks slightly watching you move from your desk to his.

“It keeps my students honest.”

“Yeah and bored, I’m surprised anyone has a pen on them these days.”

You grab the stack of papers and head back to your desk before stopping yourself.

“Speaking of pens.” You trail off as Nanami presents you his red pen, knowingly having a pencil case full of others.

“Thanks.” Blush nips at your cheeks, adding a mental note to buy yourself pens.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence, each going over the exams. After a while your wrist starts to cramp.

“I don’t know how you do it.”

“Hmm.” Nanami hums, keeping his eyes on the test in front of him.

“How is your wrist not killing you? Cross marking my exams will be so much easier.”

Nanami chuckles, his eyes finally leaving the paper and connecting with yours.

“Why don’t you print yours out for me?”

“Why don’t I just give you a lesson in technology?”

A small smirk crosses his lips as he sits back in his chair, loosening his tie and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I have all night if you do.”

“Oh Nanami.” You sigh, wait, is that blush on his cheeks? You quickly push past the thought and continue. “You doubt my abilities, I’m a great teacher, it won’t take all night.”

Nanami smiles, looking at the window as thunder rumbles through the sky.

“Although, with your elderly ways yours might be the most time consuming.”

Nanami laughs, shaking his head at you before picking up his pen and continuing with his marking.

God, you wish you could have recorded that sound.

| | |

“Okay, now this document allows for students to collaborate virtually, I use these documents to not force students into sectioned group work”

Nanami sighs, sitting back in his chair that is now squeezed in beside you.

“You’ll have to write this down for me.”

“The more you do it, the easier it will get.” You smile at him, watching as he nods, a slight frown over his brow.

“Hey, if you’d like I can come into a class when you’re introducing it to your students and help along the way.”

“The students won’t need help.”

“I wasn’t talking about the students.”

A silence falls between you two, the sound of thunder rumbling in the sky, the wind howling against the windows as rain begins to pitter patter against the tin roof.

“I’d appreciate that.” Nanami smiles, looking over his shoulder at the window.

“We should head home, before this storm keeps us here.”

“Uh yeah, you go, I decided to take the bus this morning so I’ll wait it out.”

“The bus?”

“Yeah, it's this huge metal box on wheels with little to no personal space.”

Nanami scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll drive you home, smartass.”

You heartbeat picks up, he will drive you? God sitting next to him at your desk was hard enough but contained in his car? Fuck.

“You really don’t have to, I wouldn't want-”

“Y/n, it wasn’t a question.”

You huff slightly, his authoritative voice sending a wave of arousal to your core.

The wind outside picks up as Nanami packs up his papers.

“C’mon, I don’t want us caught in the storm.”

You nod, quickly packing up your desk and following behind the tall man. While trailing behind you reach into your bag, quickly spritzing yourself with your perfume the hints of vanilla and bergamot floating in the air.

Nanami holds the door open for you. You gingerly step outside, although under cover, the wind blows your hair across your face, the chill causing you to shiver. You tense slightly as Nanami places his hand on the middle of you back. He bends down, the rain picking up as he whispers in your ear, his warm minty breath fanning against your cheek.

“I’m the blue mercedes over there.” He presses his car key causing the yellow lights to flash once. “It’s unlocked but we’ve got to run, the rain won't slow for us.”

You simply nod at his instruction knowing your voice would struggle to compete against the downpour. Nanami’s hand leaves your back, he quickly checks his surroundings before rushing into the rain. You’re quick to follow behind him, stepping in a few small puddles as the water splashes against your bare legs, your skirt not providing any warmth or coverage from the water.

You slide into the passenger seat, the leather slippery under your rain soaked skin.

The air of the car is filled with both of your heavy breathing, both of you taking a moment to catch your breath from the rush. You look over at Nanami, his blonde hair dripping water down his face, the droplets falling from his strong jaw. His eyes lock with yours, your hair also wet and sticking to you. Small droplets are stuck to your eyelashes, running down your face with each blink.

Both of you smile at each other, laughter filling the air at your small adventure. The rain picks up, accompanied by lightning and thunder. The front windscreen mimics a waterfall, the car ever so slightly rocking from the gusts of wind.

“That’s one way to get me wet.” You joke as Nanami leans his head back against the headrest.

“Not how I intended.” Nanami whispers, if you weren't so close to him you would have missed it.

You look over at him, his blue shirt stuck to his toned chest, his skin silky with water.

“How did you intend?”

The words leave your lips in a breath, almost inaudible, not sure where it could take you or if you want him to hear.

Nanami stays quiet, a deep sigh falling from his parted lips. You almost want to take it back and act like you asked a different question but his eyes capture yours, his hand falling to your knee.

“Taking you out, treating you to dinner and maybe, if you considered me lucky enough, spending the night with you and showing you how to use that smart mouth of yours.”

Your breathing hitches as his fingers trace shapes on your thigh. You take in what he’s just told you, your heartbeat picking up and your body becoming warm as the water on your skin feels sticky. Nanami goes to pull his hand away from you, believing he has overstepped but you grab his wrist.

“Show me.”

Nanami smirks at you, dragging his fingertips up your body, his hand caressing your cheek and turning you to face him. His thumb hovers over your lips, his eyes darken as you press a kiss against his fingertip. He drags your bottom lip down, your tongue licking against the digit as he slips it past your lips.

“Fuck.” He breaths, watching your lips wrap around his thumb, your tongue slowly swirling around it. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, tangling his hand in your hair and pulling you closer to him, your lips ghosting against him.

“Kento, please.”

Nanami swallows harshly, his forehead resting upon yours.

“Say that again.”

“Kento.”

He groans before connecting your lips together. Your hands fly to his face pulling him against you. Your tongues tangle against each other, his fingers scratching against your scalp. You rest one hand on his shoulder, the other running down his chest. You moan against his lips as you touch his body, your fingers pulling on the buttons.

He pulls away from you, your eyes locking with his tiny water droplets on his glasses from his hair.

“Get in the back.”

You quickly shuffle into the back, more room that you thought. You wait in the middle as Nanami pulls his tie off, opening his door and stepping into the rain before sliding in beside you. The windows in the car begin to fog up at the brief edition of cold air.

Nanami rests against the seat, looking over at you and gesturing for you to get on top of him. You’re quick to straddle his waist, your skirt bunching up around your hips, the blue lace of your panties sticking to your dampening core. His fingers grip your waist, pulling you against him as your lips mould together. He leans forward slightly, holding you tight and kissing down the column of your throat as your moans fill the air, competing with the rain. His hands slip under your skirt, guiding your hips against his crotch, his moans mixing with yours.

Your hands slip between your bodies, fumbling with his belt and pulling his shirt from the waistband. You move to slip your hand into his pants before he stops you.

“Oh baby, I haven’t used your mouth yet.”

You nod at his statement, wiggling on the seat and slipping down into the footwell as Nanami chuckles at your eagerness. He helps you free his cock which has your mouthwatering, the long member throbbing at it’s freedom before you wrap your hand around the base.

Nanami rests one arm against the head rests of the back seat, his other hand caressing your cheek as you trail your tongue up his cock. The moment your lips wrap around the tip he thrusts into your throat, a gag filling the air as he coo’s at you encouragingly.

“You can take it, show me baby.”

You move your mouth up and down his member, his hand moves from your cheek to your hair, holding it away from your face to ensure he doesn’t miss a moment of his cock disappearing past your spit covered lips.

Nanami slowly rocks his hips up into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat as your eyes water. Your hand pumps his cock faster, watching as he tips his head back against the headrest, moaning your name into the air. You’d continue this for the rest of your life to hear him moan for you over and over. You go to pull back as he holds you still, keeping his cock buried in your throat. You squeeze your eyes shut at the action causing him to release; you pull back with a gasp, his cock popping from your lips. Spit sticks to the tip leading a trail to your lips. Small pools of drool have formed around your mouth, your eyes glistening with tears.

Nanami winks at you, bending down and placing a soft kiss to your lips. His hands fall to your biceps, helping to pull you up from the footwell and to his lap. He brushes your hair away from your face, kissing your slightly swollen lips, his teeth grazing against your bottom lip before pulling back, his eyes locking with yours.

You break his eye contact, pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. Silently thanking yourself for choosing a matching set this morning. Nanami rests against the seat, watching you undress for him, taking in every curve and mark on your torso, his fingers slowly unbuttoning his shirt. His hands fall to your tits, massaging the skin, a small smile on his face.

“So beautiful.”

Blush heats up your face, goosebumps littering your skin.

“Please Kento.” You grind your hips against his hard cock earning a hiss to fall from his lips. The lace of your panties scratching the sensitive head.

Nanami leans forward, kissing your breasts, sucking against the skin, leaving his mark on your body. Something you’re bound to be looking at for days.He runs his hands down your body, gripping your ass tight. He bunches your skirt up higher, looking down at your clothed pussy.

His eyes lock with yours silently asking permission before you nod eagerly. He pulls your pants to the side, a small chuckle vibrating through his chest at your wetness. Nanami drags his cock up your slit, nudging your clit with the head.

“God you’re tight.” He hisses, sliding against your slick walls.

“Fuck, so big.” Your hands rest on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin.

Nanami holds you in place, capturing your lips with his, his fingers digging into the skin of your ass.

You softly rock your hips, his hands guiding you, helping you set a rhythm. You alternate between swirling your hips side to side and rocking back and fourth. Continuing to pull moans from his lips like a prayer, yours accompanying his.

You lean back, your shoulders resting against the backside of the driver seat, watching as his cock slips in and out of your pussy.

“That's my girl, you take cock so well”

His girl.

The simple comment causes your pussy to flutter around his cock, tightening.

Nanami licks his lips, reaching towards your lips and slipping his middle finger into your open mouth. You moan around him, swirling your tongue as your eyes close. He pulls the digit from your lips and places it against your clit causing your breath to hitch.

“Oh fuck.”

Nanami keeps his eyes fixated on your pussy, watching his cock slide in and out, his free hand helping you keep a rhythm as he circles your clit with his finger.

“Don’t stop.” You moan as Nanami’s hips thrust up into you, his pace on your clit picking up slightly. You place you free hand against the roof of his car, your body tensing as your eyes squeeze shut.

“Kento.” You moan loud, your rhythm slowing, your cum covering his cock, the sound of your wetness floating around the car. Nanami groans low, pulling you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you as he fucks you through your release, chasing his own.

Your lips fall to his neck, kissing, biting and sucking the skin. He places a hand against your head, the other staying wrapped around you, a low moan vibrating through his chest. The thunder outside rumbles against the car, his cock twitching deep inside of you. A warmth fills you, his hips slowing, his fingertips dragging up and down your back soothingly, the other running through your hair. You pull back from him, looking over his neck, the faintest hickies showing on his skin.

“Let me get you home.” Nanami kisses your forehead, helping you slip off his cock and sliding your pantines back across.

“For round two?” You wink which causes blush to tint his cheeks.

Taglist - Tag yourself here

@zagreusdaughter @sunshinemunchkin @alina02 @veryspookybatbabe @maybesandohnos @mathletemadison @themoonis-beautiful-tonight @skarlettmikaelson @darling2800 @reynaandeny @uwiuwi @anythingandeverything97 @fckve @nyx2021 @alexxavicry @thehumanistsdiary @anonreaderas @i-love-scott-mccall

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dante-mightdie · 5 months

Note

Just found you blog, and saw you mention "fosterowner!price and doghybrid!141+you" and a thought has never been better

Price with his mismatch pack of pups, always having to scruff the nearest one from niping or barking,

I know for a fact Soap and Ghost the asshole are always eating your food before you can get to it,

You're just so much smaller and their bigger you understand right? (No you don't, closer to hell with your hight, you've decked them right in the stomach for it)

Poor price he trys his hardest to keep the peace, and only when y'all are working on a mission is when y'all finally shut up about who price scratched behind the ears more,

Speaking of which, I don't make the rules but Johnny's leg twitches in tandem with his tail the second price goes in for a rub behind those soft ears :))

Gaz (he's a Doberman right?) Being the nicest of the pack, great for bodyguarding any clients on a mission and they just love him so much, cut to Soap mimicking him to try and get the same praise,

Ghost is your biggest rival in the pack, he's just that much bigger than you that no matter what you do it's like a Pomeranian yapping in his ear,

Price always scruffing you after you get a little to worked up at Ghosts indifference to your gnawing, (Simon knows no reaction works you up more that one, he does it on purpose, bastard)

P.s. bluecollar!Simon is giving me the biggest brain-rot right now

-Love Sins (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

laswell said you guys were temporary. that john was only watching over you all until she found you permanent placements

but john is so attached to you all now. and you guys don’t even realise that you’re a bonded pack now

all of you having a pretty rough past :(

gaz is the most perfect boy. so well behaved always, even the enemies have to stop themselves from giving this little cutie some ear scritches <3 can be found in johns office, napping under his desk on his feet or knelt between johns legs getting pets

but john found out that he was a stray on leave, no home or owners to go back to after deployment. found gaz shivering on the streets of london and immediately snatched him up

simon was rescued from a dog-fighting ring. price was on a mission involving hybrid trafficking and stumbled across this big lad. simon was absolutely feral, snapping sharp teeth at anyone who tried to come near him

price had no choice but to muzzle him and manhandle him :( price overheard that he was gonna get put down because he wasn’t letting anyone get close to him

simon was actually given permanent placements but was always sent back to price because he was too aggressive with anyone else that wasn’t him

soap my love :( poor thing was found in the base kennels by nikolai. cramped in a metal crate with a sad look on his face. kept getting sent back from his permanent placements for being to energetic, too rowdy

price immediately came to collect him and he’s been with him since. has to be taken on walks and played with regularly otherwise he’ll cause mayhem. price left him in his office for a few hours and came back to his couch pillows all ripped up :(

has one of those big ropes to play tug of war with

price carries treats in his pocket for all of you, sneaking them to you during long car rides

you’re the runt of the pack. this doesn’t mean they don’t love you and price does not reject you but you’re not as strong as the rest of the pack

deep down they’re actually very protective of you

this doesn’t stop them from being absolute bastards to you though

taking your toys, eating your food, roughhousing and play fighting with you. simon absolutely loves putting his scent all over your toys and bed because he knows how much it annoys you

cuddle piles are a thing after missions just saying. all of you crowded onto one bed, sprawled all over each other. gaz and soap drool on simon as you lay across his legs

john taking pictures and keeping them in a hidden folder on his phone

you know that thing that dads do where they just smack the side of the dog repeatedly to pet them? john does that to simon specifically

if it was anyone else, simon would rip their throat out with his teeth but john doing it keeps him grounded. no one says anything when they see his tail wagging lazily <3

#mw2 #ghost #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader #soap mactavish #mw3 #soap mactavish x reader #gaz garrick #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader

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notafunkiller · 9 months

Text

you were mine just yesterday - co-written with @marvelouslizzie

Summary: It's been a while since your break up with Bucky happened, but you're still not over him. You try to move on, go out, and have fun with your friend, Steve, but you end up in the same bar you two went to often. It also just happens that Bucky is there too, with Natasha by his side. It doesn't take long for you two to end up getting into old habits.

Pairing: exes!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word count: 10.7K

Warnings: 18+, second chance romance, teasing, dirty talk and pet names, language, jealousy, fingering, nipples play, oral séx (the reader receiving), choking, clit play, metal arm, no condom (but they are both clean and the reader is on birth control), aftercare, alcohol (but she is not even tipsy), death mention, no mention of y/n.

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission! I really hope you’ll enjoy it, I can’t wait to read what you think.

The screams he hears when he opens the door and holds it so Natasha can get inside first already make him regret agreeing to this. He absolutely hates crowded places, but at the same time the food is great here, and it's literally one street away from his apartment, he can suck it up a little.

“Come on, I'm starving.”

Bucky looks around, trying to spot anything and anyone that could be suspicious, but everything seems fine.

“You can't relax even for a second, can you?”

He rolls his eyes, but right before he can comment something sarcastic in return, he hears it... your laugh, followed by a strong smell of cherries, and he immediately looks toward the bar. There you are: dressed in a lovely shirt and your favorite pair of pants, with a huge smile on your face. You look out of this world but you aren't alone, no. His stomach aches at the sight of you sharing drinks with his fucking best friend as if nothing else matters.

“Bucky?” Natasha's voice isn't enough to make him tear his eyes off you. “Hey! You said you're starving.”

“What the fuck is this?”

Bucky’s voice doesn’t go unheard by Steve.

“Oh shit,” he mumbles. “Bucky is here with Natasha.”

The moment you hear Natasha’s name you feel like someone punched you in the guts. You instantly start looking around and it doesn’t take long until you finally see them together, standing there and looking for a place. Bucky with Natasha… Why doesn’t that surprise you? A better question: Why does it hurt that much to hear it? You should have expected this.

“We should go and say hi. They're staring.”

“Is this a fucking joke?” Bucky finally looks at Natasha with a deep frown. “Did you know this?”

“Know what?”

He finds it hard to speak as if something was stuck in his throat. “About... them.”

“I didn’t know they would be here.”

Bucky seems like he doesn’t know what to do. He's trying his best not to have a breakdown right then, because how could this happen to him?

“Maybe we should leave,” you say to Steve, feeling uncomfortable already. You are in no mood to watch Bucky and Natasha together. But when you make a move to stand up, Steve gently touches your hand to stop you.

“You can’t run away from him forever.” He’s right. You can’t. You don’t feel like facing them today, but you shouldn’t be the one running either. You slowly sit back down, feeling grateful that you aren’t alone.

“Can you suck it up a little, Barnes? I won’t act like I didn’t see them just because you can’t face your ex, who, by the way, is still our friend.” Natasha rolls her eyes at him, hiding her smirk and starts to walk toward the bar. “Plus, they look like they’re having fun.”

You notice Steve smiling, but you have no idea why. When you see Natasha coming toward you and Bucky following her like a puppy, you understand and try to fake a smile, too, before taking a big sip from your drink.

“Hi. What a coincidence, nice to see you here.” Natasha leans in to kiss Steve on the cheek, then you after you let the glass on the table.

“Hi,” you force the word out of your mouth as nicely as you can. It’s not that you dislike Natasha. On the contrary, you find her a smart, well-traveled, obviously, woman. You liked her opinions in most of the conversations you had, but it doesn’t mean you aren’t jealous of her when she’s around Bucky because of the same reasons.

“So nice to see you, Natasha.” Steve keeps the conversation going. “Bucky!” He tilts his head just a little to see him behind Natasha.

You don't dare to look, though. Your hands are already sweating. Seeing him so close would make your state even worse.

“Steve.” You close your eyes instinctively at the sound of his voice, but you open them when he mentions your name too.

“Hi.”

“What are you having? This looks sooo tasty.” Natasha has always been good at making conversation regardless of her feelings, and you never wished more than then to be like that too.

“Oh.” Steve casually stirs his drink with the cocktail pick. “It’s a cherry cocktail but it’s not on the menu.”

“Of course.” Bucky steps aside from behind Natasha and comes closer to you with a serious, unreadable expression. “The famous cherry cocktail.” His tone is dripping in sarcasm as he leans in and, without any warning, he takes Steve's glass and downs it in three seconds. “Less flavor than usual.”

You don't realize the death glare you're giving Bucky until you feel Steve's hand on your skin, probably trying to calm you down. You can’t believe his audacity. This is the man who broke your heart and left you and he thinks he can just come here and act like this? Hell no!

Bucky's eyes fall to your arm and leans in again, placing the empty glass down and taking two cherries from the cherries glass.

“It’s fine,” Steve says in a way that is extra calm.

“Yeah, it is fine.” You find yourself agreeing immediately. “I can get them to make you a better one.”

“Well, I am curious now.” Natasha gives you a warm smile. “Or do we interrupt something?”

“I can order you one, as well, if you want.” You offer with a fake smile on your face, ignoring her implication. You can feel Bucky’s gaze on you even though you aren’t looking in his direction.

“No need. Come on, Nat. I’m starving.”

Nat…

“You sure?” You are only looking at Natasha and ignoring Bucky. “I can talk to the bartender and he can bring you the cocktail. He’s a good friend, he wouldn’t mind.”

Bucky puffs, shaking his head.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve can't help but ask.

“Yeah, are you okay?” You try to look as casual as possible.

“If I weren't, would you offer me a drink made by your good friend, too?” His eyes and voice don't tell you much. He asks you this in the most casual way possible. Even Natasha looks surprised.

“I think you need something stronger.” Your eyes are wandering to Natasha for a second. “Since you already tried it and didn’t like the cherry cocktail that much.”

He shrugs, not denying what you said despite it being a huge lie. Then he smirks and looks at Natasha and Steve. “I assume you don't mind us joining you, right? I'm starving.”

Of course he doesn’t ask you. He knows your answer and still decides to do this. Okay, if that’s what he wants…

Steve turns his head to you, asking you indirectly if this is okay, and you nod, trying not to look affected. Especially when he sits next to you with Natasha on his left.

You instinctively move away from him and closer to Steve.

Bucky starts to take off his jacket as he speaks. “I'm not gonna eat you, you know?”

“Hmm?” You give him a look.

“I'm not into human meat, don't worry.” He takes off his gloves. Your eyes immediately fall to his hands and you feel the sadness spread inside you. It’s so overwhelming to be around him, yet you don’t want to give him the pleasure of seeing how hard this is for you.

“I’m aware. I’m just more comfortable like this.” You reach for your drink and take a sip, turning your attention to Steve. “Should I order a new one for you or would you rather drink something else?”

Bucky puffs. “He can order for himself. He is over 100 years old, doll.”

You ignore Bucky’s comment and look over to Natasha. “Do you wanna try the cocktail, Natasha?”

She hesitates, looking at you and at Bucky, and you try not to roll your eyes.

“Do you have any suggestions with strawberries? I love strawberries.” She points to Steve. "He does, too."

“I’m more of a cherry girl, but we can ask my friend. I’m sure he has some good suggestions.”

“Such a close friend”

“Yeah.” You ignore Bucky and raise your hand. The bartender gives you a smile before coming closer.

“Hey. Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fantastic. I just need another one of these.” You raise your nearly empty glass. “And Natasha wants to ask for your recommendations for a drink with strawberries.” You point at her while saying her name.

He gives a few options and both Steve and her agree on one.

“What about you?”

Bucky looks at him bored. “A burger: chicken, extra pickles, please.”

“Any drinks?”

“Your cheapest beer will do.” You respond instead of Bucky, and he immediately gives you a questioning look and lifts his eyebrow. But he doesn’t seem to care, and the bartender just nods and leaves.

“So,” Natasha starts. “For how long have you two been hanging out?”

Steve looks at Bucky. “We never stopped hanging out.”

“Why would you?” Natasha winks at you, and Bucky feels he is going crazy. Many images of you and Steve laughing, walking together, even kissing take over his mind.

“Exactly.” You smile in response.

“What about you two?” Steve asks with a mischievous smile on his face.

“What about us?” Bucky asks immediately, giving Steve a hard look. “Do you want to gossip with the ladies present?”

“That never stopped you before.” You didn’t intend to say it out loud, but it’s already out there.

Bucky's head instantly turns to you. “What?”

“I said that never stopped you before.” It’s too late to back out so you decide to go for it. Bucky usually doesn’t care who is around. He says what he wants to say when he wants to say it. So your presence shouldn’t stop him.

“I heard you the first time. I was waiting for additional explanation.”

“Oh, good. I thought your hearing was getting worse for a sec.” You just look into his eyes. “You always say what you wanna say. So why would us being present stop you now?”

“My senses are perfect, thank you for your concern. Natasha and I are hanging out, too, obviously.”

Your bartender comes back with the drinks and that stops the conversation. He puts your drinks by one by, saving Bucky’s beer for the last.

“We’re out of our cheapest one so I brought the second cheapest. I hope that’s okay.”

“I'll survive,” Bucky murmurs.

“Your burger is coming up in five minutes.” And with that remark, he leaves you four alone.

“This tastes amazing,” Steve smiles, squeezing your hand, and Natasha immediately agrees.

“Yeah.”

“Glad you like it.”

“Want to try it, Bucky?” She asks him with an innocent smile, which makes your blood boil.

Bucky shakes his head and drinks from his bottle. “Ah, this tastes too expensive.”

“You’ll survive,” you whisper, imitating his tone.

“Oh, I will.” He gives you the most charming smile you've seen in a while and takes your glass to take a sip.

“Will you stop drinking other people’s drinks without asking them?” You can’t hide how done you are with his entitled ass.

“You'll survive, I'm sure.” He mocks you without a care in the world. You can feel the tension increasing, but you have no idea what to do. You can’t control your reactions, and he keeps pushing you.

“Oh, I will, but…” You move closer to him just a little. “If you need… you know… some help you can have a drink on me.”

“Hmm.” He chuckles and moves closer, too immediately catching on to what you meant. “Don't worry about it, I am sure Nat would cover me.”

“I am sure she would.” You smile back, fighting the urge to roll your eyes and break the glass into tiny pieces, so you just put your drink in front of him. No way you are gonna keep drinking that.

“Hey, Adam!” The bartender looks at you from a bit far away. “Same drink, please.” He winks first and then nods.

Bucky frowns and downs the drink, trying to look unaffected. “You had no problems sharing drinks with me before.”

“Now I’m more careful about what I put into my body.”

Steve tries to mask his laugh by fake coughing, but you notice anyway. So Bucky must do it, too.

“I can see that. You don't mind sharing drinks with my best friend now.” He gives you a bitter smile for the first time in ages. The way he emphasized the word drinks makes you wonder what’s running through his mind.

Adam comes back with his burger and side dish, and you feel your mouth water. “Enjoy and let me know if you want anything else.”

Bucky takes a big bite from his burger as you reach out to his fries and take a couple without a care. If he can freely drink your cocktail, you can steal some of his fries.

Natasha and Steve look at you surprised.

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, chewing loudly on purpose.

“Taking some of your fries.”

“Thought we don't share drinks and food anymore. We moved on from that. We passed that stage.”

You remark his and Natasha's closeness again and feel your blood boil.

“So it’s okay for you to do it, but it’s a problem when I do it?” Yet you take another fry and put it inside your mouth, looking directly into his eyes. You want him to know this is not about fries or sharing stuff.

Bucky's surprise is visible all over his face. He's simply speechless even after Adam brings you your drink and you give him a forced smile.

“Thanks, Adam,” You say like everything is fine. “I will use the restroom. Would you keep an eye on my drink for me, Steve?”

And you leave without waiting for an answer.

You go to the restroom, lock your door and sit down. You just need a minute alone because all of this is too much for you. Seeing him with Natasha tonight is hard enough, but he keeps challenging you. He acts like nothing is changed, but everything changed when he decided to walk away. Even though you don’t wanna admit it, your feelings for him are still there and they’re making everything harder.

You take a couple of deep breaths and remind yourself this was going to happen one day. It just happened to be today and you can get through it. You’ll be fine.

You get up, unlock the door and just wash your hands, splashing some water on your neck, too, before you look at yourself in the mirror. At least you are looking alright.

You jump when you hear the door opening and turn around just to see Bucky locking the door again.

“This is the ladies’ room!”

He looks at you as if he can't understand what you're saying.

“I said this is the ladies-”

“I heard you the first time. What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

You puff. “I should be the one asking that question.”

“I am not here sharing drinks with your best friend, am I?” He walks toward you.

“No, you are here with Nat.”

Bucky washes his hands in response, not understanding how you can compare Nat with Steve. You are here on a date with his best friend.

“Have fun with Nat and stay away from my drinks.” You leave the ladies’ room, but he’s right behind you.

“I wasn't finished with you.”

“That sounds like a you-problem. I have a drink that’s waiting for me.”

“Just be honest and say Steve is waiting for you.”

“Just like Nat is waiting for you.” You look like you are tired of this conversation already when you snap.

“Are you having fun, doll? Are we bothering you? Did you want to enjoy your date all alone?”

You make a face when you hear the word date. So that’s why he was acting like that. He thinks you are on a date with Steve. “What I do with my life is none of your concern! Just go and enjoy your own date.”

“None of my concern, right?” His calm facade is finally falling. “You are on a fucking date with my best friend!”

“Oh, so that’s why you decided to be an ass? Because you think Steve picked up the toy you threw away?”

When he gets so close to you, you feel like you're suffocating. “Careful.”

“Or what?”

“You forgot what happens?”

“Oh,” you say in a mocking tone. The audacity he has! “Well, too bad you don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Does he do that?” He closes his eyes, still too close to you. “Do you let him touch you? Is this why he isn't around?”

You raise your hand instantly, wanting to slap him right there for crossing a line, but you manage to control yourself, remembering his past. You see him closing his eyes instinctively and you sigh. You might be mad at him, but you wouldn't hurt him like this. He is not a bad person… And you don’t wanna bring his trauma back.

You take a deep breath and retreat your hand.

“Maybe he isn’t around because you are an ass, did you consider that?”

“Why him?” He opens his eyes. “I would take all of your slaps instead of living through this.”

He sounds so weak, and tired, and sad. There is a part inside you that gets angrier because he thinks so low of you, but there is another part that understands and wants to assure him you would never do that to him.

“Why him what? I’m not dating your best friend, Bucky. Pull your head out of your ass!”

He freezes. He really freezes and lets out a deep, deep breath as if he's been holding it for a long time. His forehead drops until it meets yours, and you gasp surprised.

“I was going insane, baby. I felt like my life was just...”

You take a step back, not letting yourself enjoy his touch or his baby. “It doesn’t change the fact that you are here with Nat.”

“What about Nat?”

“What about Nat?” You repeat his question. “Did you forget she’s waiting for you? Or the fact that you suddenly left me? Me not dating Steve changes nothing. So stop calling me baby or doll or whatever charming pet name you come up with.”

Bucky laughs humorlessly as he shakes his head. “You think I'm really with Nat? You think I could ever replace you? That I'd even try?”

“Then why the fuck did you leave me?” You are so close to shouting, but you still don’t want people to hear you. Your eyes are getting filled with tears.

“Why do you think, huh? Do I look happy to you? You think I'd leave you to date Romanoff?”

“Why not? She’s perfect!”

Bucky looks at you dumb-faced. “For who? For what? Why do you...”

“For you! You two are a perfect match!” You take a breath, trying to contain your emotions. You don’t want to cry in front of him.

He is instantly touching your arms again, making you shiver. “Why would you say that?”

“Because even if you aren’t dating now, you will realize how perfect she is for you eventually. So go back inside. Don’t let her wait.” You sniffle, your head is slightly shaking because of all the emotions you are holding back.

His flesh hand grabs your chin and you feel his hot lips on top of yours before you can react.

The way he kisses you makes you wanna cry even more. It reminds you of everything you tried so hard to forget yet never managed to…

Even though you want to give in, you take a step back. You can’t handle another heartbreak.

“Don’t…” The tears start to fall down. “Just don’t.”

“Do you not want me?” His eyes are teary, too, and there is nothing to hide anymore. But he can't ask this, he can't do this to you. He is unfair. He left you, he broke it off. He...

“Do you have any idea how much you hurt me?” You try to dry your tears with the back of your hand. “You can’t just come back, kiss me and expect everything to be fixed!”

“I am so fucking sorry, baby. I wasn't trying to hurt you.” He stops himself and sighs. “I really don't deserve you. I keep making you cry.”

“Saying sorry isn’t enough, Bucky. What did you think would happen when you left me? Did you think it wouldn’t break my heart? Is this what you want to hear? That you broke my heart when you left me? Here! I’m heartbroken because of you. Happy now? Can we go back inside now?”

“I just wanted...” He shakes his head, wiping off his tears. “Let's just get inside.”

“What did you want Bucky? Tell me. What did you wanna hear?”

“I'm not worth it, that's fucking clear. I am sorry for this whole mess I brought into your life.”

“Don’t ever say that!” You angrily point your finger at him. “You know how much I think you deserve. This is solely about you leaving me. You made that decision, remember? I opened my heart to you and you left me! Don’t make me feel guilty about getting hurt.”

“Don’t you realize how dangerous it is?” He says desperately, looking you in the eye. “I would get you killed... we all would...”

“Really? Is that why you left me?” It angers you more than you imagined. This is probably the worst reason he could give you. Like you were safe before meeting him. As if he didn’t save your life.

“Bucky?”

You jump when you hear Natasha.

“What?” He snaps, looking at her. There is nothing in his eyes that can be even close to desire, you notice.

“Are you gonna come back or should we leave and let you cry for the rest of the night?”

“No, Nat, we're leaving.”

You grab Bucky’s arm and drag him out despite the shocked look on Natasha’s face, and Bucky just lets you.

“Pay the check. He's gonna transfer you the money for our order later,” you say casually while half of the restaurant looks at you.

Steve throws him his leather jacket without hiding his smirk, and Bucky catches it, giving him a typical Bucky look without saying anything.

“Where are we going?” Bucky finally asks when you’re outside and you let go of his arm.

“Your place obviously. Did you walk or took the motor like a lazy ass?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and puts on his jacket. “I walked.”

“Fine. So we are walking back to your place then.” You wait for him to move as he laughs and shakes his head.

“What?”

“You said that when we met too.”

You roll your eyes. He’s always been a stubborn ass. You remember him insisting the serum will do its job and he’ll heal faster, but you couldn’t just let him bleed, so you had to drag him to your place. “Just walk.”

“Bossy.”

“If I remember correctly, you said that when we met.” You don’t wait for him and just start to walk, trying not to think about what he said.

You miss his huge grin and his boyish look, but you hear his footsteps. He reaches your side in no time. “I missed you.”

You close your eyes for a second and try really hard not to say you missed him too. “I can’t do this again, Bucky. I can’t get my heart broken for the second time.” You sound like you are in pain.

He nods. “I didn't even think you’d want that.”

“I just don’t understand what you are trying to do.”

“You deserve to know the truth and the context, so you can stay away from us for good.”

You huff, but you don’t say anything. You two walk in silence for a while and luckily it doesn’t take more than five minutes to arrive at his place.

You get to his door and the familiarity is killing you. So many memories come to your mind and you're not even inside yet.

When you finally step in, it's like time has not passed: the TV, the couch... except for the sheet. The sheet is back on the floor.

“Are you sleeping on the ground again?”

Bucky sighs, taking off his shoes. “Can we ignore that? Let's focus on your questions. Do you want a glass of water?”

“Answer my question while pouring me a glass of water then.”

“The man who almost killed you when we met?” He opens the fridge and takes out the water bottle before directly handing it to you. “He's a part of the new wave of Hydra.”

You look at him, feeling completely confused. You don’t even notice the water bottle.

Hydra?

“They might know about you...” He bites his bottom lip entirely, showing his frustration. “We managed to take a few down. They are careless as fuck, so young and dumb.” He just puts down the bottle on the kitchen counter.

“You… left me… because you think they are after me because of you?”

Bucky looks away. “Does it matter?”

“Isn’t that why I am here? Because you wanted me to know the truth. So just tell me. Is that why you left me?”

“He knew your name, where you work, your family.” Bucky pauses, trying to control his anger. “He knew we were together. I have no idea how because you know... you know I never let my guard down. And what if they’d have gotten you? What if they do? You need to stay away from me, us.”

He can’t believe Steve or the rest thought it’s okay to continue to be around you.

“So you decided to leave me alone, be a more vulnerable target. Good job Bucky! Very well done!” You start to clap. “You are the dumbest person I have ever met.”

“Do you honestly think I left you unprotected?” Bucky puffs, as if he can't believe you'd ever think that.

“Then why did you have to leave? What was the point, huh? If they already knew all that stuff about me… about us… What the fuck was the point?”

“What if they kidnap you or kill you just have me back?”

You sigh. “You know that’s always a possibility in our world right?”

He hesitates before speaking. “What if they trigger me?”

You take a frustrated deep breath. There is no way they can do that again. No way! But if he thinks that, then it means he doesn’t trust himself or his skills. Again. “You accepted the defeat already.”

Bucky snaps immediately. “Do you not understand I could kill you? I could kill you and not even...” He closes his eyes unable to look at you as he speaks. He could not recognize you. He could make you suffer in the worst possible ways if you were his target.

“This is why I said you accepted the defeat already!”

“I could kill you...” Bucky repeats so shaken.

“You wouldn’t.” You’ve never been more sure in your life.

“How do you know that? I almost killed everyone...”

“You didn’t kill Steve.”

Bucky gets closer again, shocked by how calmly you talk about his worst nightmare. “I can't risk that. I cannot risk your life.”

“So you would rather leave me alone and heartbroken.”

“Yes.” His answer comes instantly. “If you're alive, that's-”

“And go back to sleeping on the ground!”

“It's not like I sleep much anyway.” The way he says it... like it's not a big deal at all amazes you.

“You know what bothers me about all of this? Something I didn’t think you would do...”

“What?”

“You took my choice away.”

Bucky is shaking when he hears you, completely taken aback.

“Instead of telling me about all the risks, you decided on your own. I would never do that to you.”

“I dreamed about this. I... I saw you,” he pauses. “I was choking you."

“Not something you didn’t do before.” Your response comes instantly, without much thinking because the tension is killing you and you want to lighten the mood a little. “Choking, I mean.”

And he smiles. You make him smile and it feels like you won the lottery. “You quite liked that.”

“You did, too.”

“I did, you were very pretty.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Bucky sighs, not knowing what to say. “I'm sorry for putting you through all of this.”

“There’s something else you should also apologize about.”

“What?”

“For taking my choice away...”

“I am sorry for that,” he says instantly. “But I don't regret it. I made the right choice.”

“If you don’t regret it, we don’t have anything to talk about. I don’t need your sorry.” If he doesn’t regret it, what’s the point of this conversation?

“Your life is worth everything to me." His voice is so soft as he speaks.

“I understand that, but it doesn’t make it any better.”

“I am sorry for not telling you." He keeps apologizing.

“You don’t regret it, though. So… I don’t know where to go from here. Maybe I should go.”

He tries to hide his disappointment. He's being unfair and he knows it. “If that is what you want... let me grab the hamlets and I can give you a ride.”

“I don’t need a ride.” You don’t want to be that close to him on his motorcycle. You can handle yourself. You wish things were different, that he had told you the truth. You would have to make him see things from your perspective, but he didn’t share anything with you. He pushed you away completely.

��No fucking way.” Bucky shakes his head. “You should know this by now.”

“You’re not my boyfriend anymore so you don’t have a say.”

“No,” he simply responds.

“The sooner you accept that you have no say in my life anymore the better.” He can’t keep acting like he’s a part of your life. You understand his fear, his good intentions, but he refuses to see the whole picture. You’re not safe either way and he still protects you. He could have done it and still be by your side.

Bucky comes even closer to you. “It's not safe. Did you not hear me until now?”

“So dropping me off is somehow safer? Do you ever hear yourself? You told me you left me because my life was in danger and you don’t regret breaking my heart. And now you wanna drop me home and make me a target again? Is sleeping on the ground killing your brain cells too?”

“I have a fucking metal arm.” He raises his left arm. “I didn't mean just Hydra's dumb men. I mean normal dumb men too.”

“I did not forget that you have a metal arm, but you did since you broke up with me. And you apparently also forgot that I can handle dumb men all by myself. You chose this! You had your reasons, I get it, but you can’t just come back whenever you feel like it, okay? You can’t go all passive-aggressive like you did to Steve because I am on a date. You can’t offer to drop me off. If you’d decided to get out of my life, stand by that choice. Since you don’t regret it, it shouldn’t be that hard.” With every sentence, your anger is rising. You don’t realize you say the words like you’re spitting them out.

“I did not mean it like that.” He ignores the comment about how you can handle yourself because there are limits to that. “I regret not being with you, deciding that for you if that's what you mean, but I don't regret making this choice for your own good. And you would have gotten bored of me anyway. I have too much baggage, too. You shouldn't have to deal with this shit."

You shake your head, absolutely crushed by his words. How can he think he’s so hard to love? How can he… “If lying to yourself helps with sleeping at night, go for it, but that’s not the truth.”

Bucky sits down on the couch. “You cannot deny I am right.” He sighs. “Let me call you an Uber at least.”

“You want me to lie and I can’t do that, Bucky. You were the love of my life. I would never get bored of you.” You don’t know why you are saying all this. You thought and think about him constantly. He wasn’t just your boyfriend, he became your best friend.

You can see the surprise and happiness all over his face right away. He's glowing.

“You were mine, too, I hope you know that.”

“I didn’t. Not until now.” You bite your lip, trying to hold back your tears. It’s just so hard.

“I wish things could be different, but I promise I'll keep protecting you.”

That makes something inside you snap. “It could’ve been different! But you chose this!” Your anger is suddenly pouring out. “I don’t want your protection. You are either in my life or out of it. There’s no in-between. Do you understand me?”

“No.”

“God, I hate you so much! I hate how stubborn and stupid you are! I hate that you never listen to me! I fucking hate how you make me feel!”

Bucky stands up. “Do you think this is easy for me? Do you think I don't want to talk and hold you and make love to you? Do you think it's easy, huh? No! But someone has to make these decisions! I won’t let you die because you're stubborn.” He's so red and angry. “I am not worth it.”

“For fuck’s sake! I’ve had enough of this, okay? One second you tell me you have to stay away and another that you wanna make love to me. You treat me like shit and then kiss me! Why do you do that, huh? Why?” You don’t wait for a response, letting out everything you have been holding in. “I don’t fucking care if it’s easy or not. You know why? It wasn’t my decision. YOU DIDN’T LET ME CHOOSE YOU. So if you are suffering that’s on you, pal. My suffering is on you, too. Now get out of my way. I wanna go home.” You try to breathe and control your anger again, but it feels impossible.

“What do you want me to do? Risk your life?”

“I want you to get out of my way and stay away from me. I’m done with talking, arguing, and crying.”

“You won't see me.” He looks away as he promises you that, and you feel like crying more than ever. That's it? “But you have to promise me you won't see the others.”

“The others?”

“Natasha, Steve, Sam. We are all the problem.”

“Oh, hell no. Fuck no! No!” You point your finger at him, angrily. “You don’t get to decide shit anymore. Especially not about my life. You are done with making choices for me!”

“Did you not hear what I told you tonight? They should know better. I will have a discussion with them about it too. They are so stupid-"

“I don’t fucking care. Should I spell it out for you? Would that make it easier for you to understand? I DON’T FUCKING CARE! You don’t want to be in my life, fine. Your decision, but them… I’m not giving up on anyone.”

“Why are you so fucking stubborn? We are talking about death and life.”

“I made that choice the day we met, okay? When you fucking saved me. I’m way passed that point. They are my friends, too, and they will stay that way. This conversation is over.”

“I'll call you an Uber.” He murmurs, knowing continuing this would not a wise decision. He expected more from Steve at least. He knew how dangerous this is. At least Sam and Natasha seemed to understand.

You’re surprised when you see him suddenly giving you a funny look. “What?”

“I can't believe you really thought I could be with Natasha like that.”

Of course this would come and bite you in the ass!

“I always thought you two would be a good match.” That was always on the back of your mind, thinking if they gave it a chance it would work amazingly. She is beautiful, powerful, lethal… and Bucky deserves the best. Seeing them together double hurt.

He gasps as if he can’t believe this. “What?”

“Why are you so surprised?”

“We were together and you thought I could ever replace you with her?” He sounds hurt and confused at the same time.

“Yeah. I was sure that would happen one day.”

He stares at you completely blank for a while and you don't know what he's thinking. You were honest.

“And you say I gave up on us? You thought I am gonna-”

“It doesn’t matter, Bucky, okay?”

It does, actually, very much, but you’re so tired and hurt and simply without energy.

“Fuck it.”

You don't expect him to take you by the back of your neck and kiss you, surprising you for the second time on the same night. You don’t understand why this set him off or what he’s trying to do. All you can think of is how much you missed this.

He whimpers when he realizes you don't reject him and licks your bottom lip.

You wanna cry. You wanna hit him. You wanna push him away, but you also want to keep kissing him. You hate how conflicted you are feeling.

He closes his eyes, letting you go. “I don't know why I...”

You know how that sentence would end. You don’t need to hear it. He doesn’t know why he can’t stay away from you.

“So you are really that dumb.”

He stares at your lips. “Fuck, maybe I am.”

“You definitely are, but I am dumber.”

You grab him by the collar and kiss him again. He doesn't hesitate to open his mouth and let your tongue find his, his hands grabbing your ass and bringing you so close that you feel his hard-on.

“Fuck.”

Everything feels overwhelmingly familiar and you missed this so much. You missed his lips, his taste, his touch, his smell… You grab his face with both of your hands and kiss him however you want, however you need.

“No one can replace you, alright?”

“Then what is the point of all this?” His face is still between your hands. “You want us to live in agony for the rest of our lives?”

“I just want to keep you safe, baby.” He kisses your palms. “I really don't want to risk your life. I couldn't survive!” He's haunted by that image of you dying, him killing you… He wouldn't be able to move on with his life.

“But I don’t wanna live like this.”

“How do you want to live?” He finally asks.

“I wanna be with you, Bucky, but you don’t let me. You don’t let me have you. You don’t let me move on. How am I supposed to live like this?”

“You want someone else?”

Seriously?

“I said all of those things and that’s what you heard?”

“I heard you, but it's all a mess. I am a mess. I would understand.” His tone is ice cold. He's so frustrating.

You grab his face with one of your hands again and force him to look you in the eye. “Would you really understand?” You question because you are damn sure he wouldn’t. “You would rather have me forgetting all about you and moving on than being with me?”

He seems to think intensely for a couple of seconds, contemplating, imagining different scenarios. You can feel his jaw clenching and you bite your lip.

“You know there is no turning back then, right?”

You don’t understand what he means. “Turning back from what?”

He kisses you as if that is the only answer he can give you. And kisses you. And kisses you until you feel the salty taste of his tears.

Your heart breaks seeing him like this. So vulnerable and tormented. You break the kiss, look at his face, and you feel yourself tearing up.

“You're so fucking stubborn, baby.”

“So are you.”

Bucky smiles, kissing away a few tears on your cheeks. “Can I have you?”

“You gotta work for that.”

That doesn’t seem to deter him. “Yeah? Good, I love working.”

“Yeah? Because it’s not gonna be easy.”

Bucky smiles sadly. “When do I like it easy?”

“I mean it, Bucky. You have to earn my trust back.”

He takes a step back. “And I mean it, I'm here to prove that. I know what a hard and long process it is, and I would never leave you alone again unless you are tired of me. I will protect you with my life, I promise.”

You can’t believe the switch he made. Finally!

“Good. Now come and kiss me because I missed you.” You finally admit it out loud. He’s being vulnerable, so can you, but he hesitates a little.

There’s something in his eyes, maybe it’s the willingness to do anything to earn your trust back, including holding back and waiting, but you don’t want to wait.

“I said gaining my trust will take time. I didn’t say I wanna wait, Bucky.”

“What's the difference?” He’s reluctant, not wanting to make another mistake.

“The difference is I am horny.” It’s been too long. You can’t hold back anymore.

A playful smirk takes all over his face as he comes closer to you. “Are you now? And what can I do about it?”

“I don’t know. What can you do?” You dare him like you don’t know all the things he can do.

“Depends.” His hands grab your neck softly.

“On what?” It’s astonishing how easy it is to fall back into habits.

“On the limits you want to set.”

“You know my limits.”

He looks at you surprised. “But do you trust me with this?”

“My trust issues aren’t over this, and you know it.” He always knew when and where to stop. Never made you feel unsafe. Your only problems are the way he left you and how his actions hurt you.

“Intimacy means a lot of trust,” he says but brings his hands down to your shirt anyway.

“I know. If you didn’t turn into someone else during the time we were apart, I trust you with this.”

“I don't have protection.”

You give him a look. “If you don’t wanna do it that’s fine.”

He snorts, literally ripping your shirt in half, buttons flying everywhere. “Yeah, I totally don't.”

His actions don’t surprise you. You are used to him ripping your clothes. You just look at your teared-away shirt, amused.

“Sounded like many excuses to me.”

“Do you not see my fucking erection?”

You look down, smiling. “Oh, I do see it.” It’s not something you can ignore.

“You lied to me,” he says in a low voice, taking off your bra in a couple of seconds using his flesh hand.

“About what?”

“About Steve. You wanted to drive me crazy.”

“I didn’t say anything about Steve.”

Bucky raises his eyes from your boobs to your face. “You let me think you are dating him.”

“You assumed I was dating him because we were out together and he was trying my favorite cocktail.” You start to unbuckle his belt, incapable to wait any longer. You missed him and his cock so much you are aching. “Take off your shirt.”

Bucky groans in annoyance. “Don't remind me. You made it for him.” He sounds like a jealous kid. “Take it off yourself.”

“Yeah, I was gonna make it for Nat, too.” You finally unbutton his pants and push them down without paying much attention.

Bucky laughs, tilting his head.

“What is so funny?”

He takes off his shirt. “Your voice is getting higher when you're angry.”

“And?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

“Did Nat piss you off or something?” He unbuttons your pants, too, as he asks.

“You piss me off.”

Bucky smiles. “You tend to say that a lot. Nat doesn't think that.”

“What does she think?”

He pulls down your panties and you're surprised a little. You expected him to rip them.

“I guess I don't piss her off.”

You grab his face and make him look at you. “I bet you are on your best behavior around her.”

Bucky bites his lip. “Maybe I am.”

“Now who is lying?” You grip a little harder.

“I don't know, doll. Who is lying?” He moans.

“You enjoy it, don’t you? Seeing me like this? Getting me all worked up?”

You feel his hands on your hips all of a sudden. “You're getting flushed when you're worked up. So beautiful.” He leans in, trying to kiss you, but you don’t let him. You push him back. “Couch or bed?”

“Couch, it's closer unless you want the bed.”

“If you fucked anyone on that couch, I’m not even going close to it.” You look at him in the eye while saying that. It makes your skin crawl.

He grabs your face. “If you think I did this, maybe we shouldn't do anything.”

“What? We weren’t together.”

“I see.” His voice is so low that you barely catch it. What you said goes both ways.

“Don’t go all grumpy and jealous again. I didn’t fuck anyone.”

He puffs relieved. “I'm not grumpy.” He kisses you desperately, though, lifting you at the same time until you wrap your legs around him, and carries you to the couch.

He sits down and his hands drop to his sides, letting you find a good position on his lap.

You push him on his back while trying to make yourself comfortable. “Lay down.”

“I can't reach your tits from there.”

“Just lay down. You are gonna like this.”

He leaves a kiss on both of your breasts before doing what you said, waiting eagerly. You move closer and closer under your pussy is right above his face. He doesn't say anything, and quickly pulls you completely down as if you'd have changed your mind any second if he hadn't done it. You lose your balance for a second but quickly grab the arm of the chair for support.

His tongue is everywhere for a while before stopping on your clit directly. He teases you, though, licking around it, and you can't stand it. You move your hips, trying to get his tongue right where you need it, and he chuckles, sending small vibrations to your clit.

“Just stop teasing me,” you say impatiently. There’s no time for games.

You don't understand what he murmurs, but you feel his tongue finally on your clit at the same time he gets a finger inside you. That gets a loud moan out of you.

“It wasn’t that hard, was it?” You complain while he pumps his finger in and out.

You feel Bucky's vibranium hand making its way to your chest, and you gasp at the cold touch right on your nipple.

“You always find a way to do what you want to do.” But you aren’t complaining. It feels really good.

He adds a second finger inside you just when you finish your sentence.

“Oh, fuck you!” You say after moaning loudly. He’s definitely doing this on purpose.

He doesn't hesitate to move his fingers in a fast pace, opposite to the way he is using his tongue, which you know he does on purpose. Old habits...

“Just lick it properly if you don’t want me to torture you later.”

He pinches your nipple in response.

“Just stick your tongue out.” You move yourself a little bit away from his mouth.

He opens his eyes instantly and frowns. “What are you doing?”

“Taking matters into my own hands.”

His eyes glow and he immediately opens his mouth, sticking his tongue out eagerly. Then you grab his hair and lower yourself onto his mouth, gently riding it.

Bucky moans, keeping his tongue as flat as he can. He can literally die like this and he'd be the happiest man on earth.

You slowly pick up your pace, listening to your body and the need to come grows when he moans just because you tug on his hair a little harder.

His fingers start to move again, surprising you since you're the one riding his face.

It makes your knees shake; it becomes harder to move for a second.

“Oh fuck.” You curse loudly. “I’m gonna- come.”

He whimpers in approval and adds a third finger out of nowhere. You can’t say anything. The only thing you can do is moan while riding his tongue. Bucky keeps the same pace, squeezing your breast at some point until you finish all dizzy.

You take deep breaths, still holding onto the arm of the couch. Then he grabs your hips, lifts you up and you find yourself on your back. You yelp because of his sudden move. He kisses you before you can say anything and spreads your legs at the same time. You feel the wet tip of his cock right at your entrance and you moan, giving him access to deepen the kiss while raising your hips slightly so you can feel more of him.

“That was so good. I missed you so much.”

You stare at his wet chin and cheeks and smile. Your face is now wet, too, but you don't care as you kiss him again. You kiss him until you feel breathless. Then you look at him, still high from your orgasm.

“I think I should’ve been the one to say that.”

“I missed you so much.” He repeats as he pushes inside you,

“Oh fuck.” It feels so good, even better than you remembered. “I missed you, too!” You sound breathless.

“I fucked my fist a thousand times thinking about you.” Hearing that turns you on even more.

“Yeah?” So you weren’t alone because you thought about him. Only him. “I imagined my dildo was your cock like a thousand times, too.”

Bucky's thrusts are finally getting faster. “Yeah? Was it good?”

“Some great some underwhelming orgasms. Yours?” You wanna know so badly.

“Nothing can compare to your pussy.”

“Not even another pussy?” You want to push him, so you don’t hold back your question.

He grabs your face. “I'm inside yours right now and you wanna talk about other women?”

“You know what I want to hear.” And it’s definitely not other women.

Bucky's eyes soften a little as he kisses your nose. “I haven't been with anyone else. And no pussy can compare to yours. No one can compare to you, stubborn little baby.”

You don’t feel any shame when a loud moan escapes your lips. That’s exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Harder?”

“Whatever you want.” It’s like your mind suddenly switched off.

Bucky brings his vibranium hand to your mouth. “Suck then.”

You don’t say anything, you just wrap your lips around his finger and start sucking.

“Good girl.” He starts thrusting a little harder, enjoying the way you look so out of your mind. “My good girl, taking my cock so well. Did you miss it so much?”

You wanna say something, but your mouth is occupied. So you moan instead.

“A fucking sight.” He groans, taking his thumb out of your mouth despite your protests. “Never letting you go.”

“Oh, you finally made up your mind,” you say in a mocking tone.

“Gonna choke you with my cock next and we'll… fuck! see if you'll mock me then, too.”

“You can choke me now, you know.”

Bucky brings his flesh hand to your neck instantly and you frown. As much as you enjoy him finally slowly returning to his own habits, he's still being careful.

“Really?” Your eyebrow raises automatically.

“What?”

“If you’re gonna hold back, maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

He sighs. “It's been a while, I don't want to hurt you.”

“Can you even hurt me?”

Bucky stops mid-thrust and raises his eyebrow. “What?”

“I think you might be getting old. Or maybe the serum is wearing off.”

You didn't expect him to bite it so quickly, but he does, grabbing your thighs and finally fucking you harder. “Gonna make you scream.”

“You are definitely getting old.,” you say half breathless.

“I won't make you bleed, baby. We can go harder than this after you get used to having sex with me constantly again.”

“I meant your memory.” He’s going really fast and it makes it harder to speak. “You forgot what I asked for.”

“Want me to choke you?” He moans, realizing what you mean. “Beg for it.”

“Just choke me, old man.”

He says something, but you don't understand what, and when you feel the cold metal on your neck, you don't even care. You close your eyes in pleasure.

“Like this? Is this what you want?”

“Yeah.” The words barely leave your lips. It feels amazing.

“No dildo can replace my cock, can it?”

“No.” You shake your head. “Nothing can.”

“No other man, either, right?” You feel his wet kiss on your neck. “No other super soldier. Not Steve.”

“Steve?” You can’t believe he’s actually asking this. Is he that jealous?

“No one else.”

You grab him by the hair and force him to look at you while you speak. “I don’t want anyone else. Do you hear me?”

Bucky smiles. “I don't hear you. Can you repeat it?”

“You bastard!” You smack his chest with a big smile.

“Bastard?” Bucky laughs, slowing his thrusts.

“Old bastard.” You laugh with him.

“Fuck, I'm gonna make your ass red.”

“Make me come first,” you say in a challenging tone.

He squeezes the sides of your neck a little harder than before and the pressure makes you dizzy in the best way. “You're so wet for me. So fucking wet and perfect for my cock.”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. No words, not even moan. Bucky smiles when he feels your whole body trembling and a few of his hair strands fall all over his face. His flesh hand goes to your clit, circling it a couple of times in the middle of your orgasm.

“Oh my fucking god…” You murmur. It’s like your whole body is electrocuted.

“Can you take my come, baby?” He asks squeezing your neck a little more. “Gonna give it to you. Gonna...”

“Yes, please.” It is like a whisper, but you know he can hear you. “Please.”

That's all it takes for him to come. And come. And come. A lot, you can feel it filling you and probably dripping out on the couch because there's so much come. You kiss his forehead and hair, anything you can, still feeling out of this world. It's like you could fly.

You missed this... Feeling like being one with him. Sharing this high. It feels you with all kinds of emotions.

“God, I missed this.”.

“Of course you did.” You giggle.

“Did you not?” He fishes once again before bringing his head to your boobs and licking all over them.

“Fuckkk.” Your laugh turns into moaning. You want to push your breasts more into his mouth. “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

He sucks your right nipple in return. “Ihm.”

“If you keep sucking it I might come again.”

Bucky sucks even more, bringing his vibranium to your other breast.

“Move your hand on my clit,” you say after moaning loudly.

He does it quickly, making sure to tickle you before finally touching your clit. You giggle first, then moan when you feel his mouth sucking on your nipple while his fingers work on your clit. You close your eyes and let yourself enjoy this double stimulation.

“So soft.” You can barely understand what he says while still sucking. You take a sharp breath when your legs start to tremble. He's enjoying every single whimper of yours as he keeps moving his mouth and hand at the same time.

You love hearing the sounds he makes while sucking on your nipple. You run your hands through his hair and enjoy your high to the fullest until it feels too much. You grab his hair and move his mouth away from you.

“That’s… that’s… enough.”

“Why?” He sounds like a little kid.

“I’m… sensitive.”

Bucky takes his mouth off immediately with a pop and kisses you as an apology. You tremble under his touch once again, sighing right after it.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It’s obvious that you don’t mind. You sound content and satisfied.

He completely gets out of you too while licking his finger. “Gonna get you a towel and a glass of water. And a blanket.”

“Why a blanket?” You look at him confused while Bucky stands up hesitatingly

“For you...”

“Did you sell your bed or something? Are we sleeping here?” You joke.

“I was gonna make you some fries...”

“Fries?” You straighten up a little, surprised.

“Yep. I think I have some pickles, too.”

“Okay.” A warm smile spreads on your face. This is the Bucky you remember. He smiles, too, and goes to the bathroom probably, but you hear his chuckle anyway.

“Come on, one more.” You try to force the fry inside his mouth, but he's a stubborn man.

“They are for you, baby. Eat!”

“If they are for me, I decide what happens to them and I want you to eat one more.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but takes the fry anyway. “Happy?”

“Very.” You take another fry and start chewing. “You know we should talk, right?”

“Well aware, yes.”

“Are we gonna or…” You’re hesitant because it feels good to be like this with Bucky after a long time, but you also know you should be talking and sorting things out.

“I was waiting for you to start.”

“The problem is I don’t know what to say.” Or where to begin. You feel like you’ve already said everything. Or better yet, you screamed it to his face.

“What do you want to know?”

“Are we trying again or are you gonna say this was a mistake?” It’s at the back of your mind. The fear of him leaving again…

“This could never be a mistake, love. I was simply trying to protect you the best way I knew. I will protect you.” He sounds genuine, but it doesn’t change how you feel.

“If you leave me again, it doesn’t matter why, you won’t have another chance.” Your tone is more serious than before. You want him to understand this. You can’t keep playing this back-and-forth game over and over again. You don’t believe in second chances, but this is an exception. The only exception you are ever willing to make because you understand his intentions, how his mind works, how his trauma still hits him. Dealing with Hydra again is a scary thing. You can’t imagine how he felt when he found out.

He looks at you so proud. “I know. I am lucky I got another chance in the first place. I am not even worth it.”

“Stop with the self-degrading talk, will you? I can’t stand it.” You always hated the way he talked about himself. He’s worth everything.

“But it's the truth.”

“I can’t believe you went back where you started the moment you left me. The self-degrading talk, sleeping on the floor…” It bothers you so much, like it’s somehow your fault, but you know it isn’t.

Bucky closes his eyes. He's not proud of it, but there is nothing he could have done to control it. “I am a lost case, I know.”

“Bucky,” you say in a surprisingly firm tone, and he opens his eyes back. “You’re worth everything, but you gotta believe it yourself first. I can’t magically make you see how wonderful you are. I don’t have that kind of power.”

“Sometimes I feel it, but sometimes... there are some really hard days, you know?” He sighs. “The past I had, my Winter Soldier past, too, the mess... it's hard to believe I deserve some kind of peace, but I'm trying.”

You know he is.

“You are a wonderful person, especially when you are not an asshole who thinks he knows the best for everyone.”

“I'm a super soldier, remember? I'm used to making these kinds of decisions.” He gives you a small guilty smile.

“You know what soldiers are meant to do right?” You quickly continue without waiting for an answer. “It’s definitely not making decisions.”

“No?”

“No. Good soldiers follow orders.”

He smiles. “I'm a bad one, don't you know? The worst soldier.”

“Until further notice you are not allowed to make decisions.”

“It's not that simple.”

“No, it’s pretty simple. Don’t tire that beautiful head of yours. It’s not meant to make decisions anyway.” You try to sound like a 40s husband on purpose.

Bucky's head snaps to you. “You sound like my grandfather.”

“So you are familiar how this works.” You finally give him a smile.

“I'm gonna take care of you. No one will hurt you.” He still doesn’t get it, so you decide to explain.

“You will do whatever I say until I trust you to make your own decisions.” Your voice is firm. You don’t like it, to be honest, because you know this is super hard, especially for someone like him... giving away the control knowing everything he's been through, but what choice do you have?

Bucky frowns. “What does that mean?”

“It means if you want me back, you will let me decide on things for a while. You took my choice away and made us both suffer. Letting me decide is how you earn my trust back.”

His stomach aches. “I don't feel... what does that mean? There are many things, I can't just...”

You can see the panic so clearly and you realize how this must have sounded. “Calm down, Bucky. I don’t mean everything. Just things about our relationship.”

“Your safety is off the table,” he says without hesitation, and you’re surprised he doesn’t protest about something else. “You can decide on everything else.”

“Nope. That’s what got us here.” You sound calm.

“You don't understand the level of the danger.” His voice is trembling. “Everything but your safety.”

“You fucking left me over this, Bucky!” You raise your voice a little because what if he finds another Hydra member and tries to leave you again? “How can I trust you and accept this? How can I know you won’t do it again and say it is for my safety?”

“Conditions. Name them all, I am up for it, but I cannot play around with this. I couldn’t sleep for weeks because of it. Please... I need to be in control just in this aspect. I need to protect you.”

You think for a second. “You talk to me first. That’s the condition.”

Bucky leans in and steals your fry, agreeing happily immediately. “Done.”

“And you need to respect my decisions. Even if you don’t like them. I don’t like yours all the time, but…”

“When did I not respect your decisions? I think you are very bright and rational, usually.”

“When you didn’t even ask me and took a decision for me.” You look into his eyes daringly.

“Would you have stayed away from me? And I said usually.”

“I wouldn’t and it would be my decision.” He can’t use this against you.

“Why?”

“I could hide, I could act like we aren’t together, I could act like I hate you, but I can’t stay away.”

“We could never act.” He kisses your forehead.

“Fine. We could only see each other in secret then.” That was another possibility.

He smiles like what you said reminds him of something. “When can we have a date?”

“Tomorrow?”

“I hope you won't change your mind.” He grabs your head and you squeeze it.

“I won’t ever change my mind about you.”

You kiss him before placing the plate on the coffee table and resting your head on his chest where it feels like home.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #my stories #co written with marvelouslizzie #my fanfics

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nothomegal · 6 months

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"Nothing, just (Y/N)"

(Pyramid Head(s) x GN! Reader NSFW)

Minors do NOT interact!

Summary: wondering through abandoned semi-ruined places is great to hide and get lost, and in your case the latest happened. But don't worry! Because you were lucky enough to bump into your lover... Or not. Whoever, or whatever this is, it really looks like your monster, yet it's different at the same time... Huh, I wonder what will happen when these two do meet face to face... Huh, I wonder what verdict awaits you.

Warnings: non-con touches at first, brief mentions of nipple play, oral (Pyra receiving), references to double penetrations (but you can interpretate it differently since the reader is gender neutral).

Word Count: 3.9k

This idea popped up after I remembered that Pyramid Head has two different designs (one that appears in DBD and Silent Hill 2, and the other one from the movie and Silent Hill Homecoming, y'know where he has a more pointy helmet and exposed torso)

I usually describe the DBD/original version (though my dummy self been using gifs with the other design hashsha). But still, why don't we present our lil' (Y/N) the other one? 🤭

They’re lost. (Y/N) let out a long tired sigh as they keep walking through the long dark hallway of what appears to be a school.

They begin to regret their decision of going deeper, it probably would’ve been smarter to just chill in one of the classes until the ‘newcomers’ leave the area, buut… Uh, last time they hid in a room they ended up kidnapped by the group they tried to avoid so yeah… Not really a fan to repeat that experience.

The school was dead silent most of the time, apart from the sound of their footsteps or the occasional shuffle or hiss from a Creeper. For anyone new, this would be an unnerving place, but for (Y/N)? Oh they’re chilling with the peace n’ quiet around them. Sure, silence is not always associated with safety and there is always the possibility of something lurking in the dark and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. But in (Y/N)’s case it’s not possible, no creature is dumb enough to even get close to them, not to mention hurting. They can’t help but to chuckle to themselves, they’ve been in this place for quite a while, probably months, maybe even a year! Or two? And no matter how much time passed or will pass, they still can’t believe the fact that one of the most fearsome creatures of Silent Hill took them under his wing, keeping them safe and making them feel something more than just a piece of flesh to use or kill.

Sigh, they probably have the dumbest lovesick face they’ve ever made, like some teenager thinking about his crush, but can you really blame them? Who the hell wouldn’t get all giddy with a creature like Pyra? And speaking of him, they probably should find an exit faster before he gets tired of looking for them and just tanks his way through the building-.

Or maybe not, because the sound of metal scraping the old tiled floor of the school and the erratic heavy footsteps resonated from one of the hallways. Huh, each day they start to believe that they somehow summon Pyra just by thinking about him for long enough.

With a little smile (Y/N) makes their way towards the sounds, happy to have their lover back with them after him completing his hunt and punishment.

–”Hey big guy! Sorry for the trouble of having to look for me in here. Just wanted to avoid the incident from the last ti- ”–

(Y/N)’s voice died and they froze in place when they met the source of the sound. Yes, it was the known pyramid headed beast, but… It wasn’t their pyramid headed beast, it wasn’t Pyra.

The monster in front of them was different; his vest, which appeared to be stitched, was only covering everything below the waist, leaving the torso completely exposed. The helmet was different too, it was more… Pointy? The edges were sharper and the shape was more triangular and detailed with additional metallic pieces.

This other beast and (Y/N) remain completely still, staring at each other in heavy silence, the monster’s metallic breathing being the only audible thing. (Y/N) gulps nervously, both confused and afraid. What the… Who is this creature?! Why does it look almost like Pyra?! Is this another executioner? Wasn’t Pyra the only one? Are there more monsters like him? Then why did they never see it before?!

Their internal freak out paused then the other beast let out the familiar low metallic rumbling, which wasn’t as low and deep as the one Pyra emitted, but that fact didn’t make the sound any less intimidating, especially when the monster seemed to grip the handle of his large knife tighter.

–”W-Wrong executioner, m-my bad!”– you peep out before taking off running.

They sprint down the hallway, their adrenaline skyrocketing when they hear the known bulky footsteps and scraping noises behind them. They haven’t felt this much terror since being chased by Pyra himself. Sure the group of shady men was scary too but their demise was inevitable. In the case with Pyra… Well, if the executioner chooses you as his target, there is no chance to escape your fate, only delay it.

But- But this time it will be different, right? Their Pyra is still somewhere around, right? It’s unclear what they're hoping for, or what they want to happen when both beasts face each other. All (Y/N) knows is that the true safety has always been in Pyra’s arms, and they have no other option but to go there if they want to have the slimmest chance to survive this chase.

Despite trying to find the exit, it feel like they only get themselves deeper into the building, all hallways and rooms appear to get darker and more rotten, it's like they're decending deeper into hell, closer to their demise, further from their salvation...

But the light of hope was recandled when while turning a corner (Y/N) bumped face first into a firm and broad torso, which didn't even budge at the impact while they already had landed on the floor right on their butt. They rub their nose after the impact and shoot their gaze up, their heart almost jumping through their rib cage after recognizing the known pyramidal shape of the creature’s head, thinking that the beast chasing after them somehow outsmarted their panicked brain. But when the creature kneeled down they instantly relaxed as relief flushed through them, despite the monster’s large form menacingly towering over them and engulfing their smaller frame with its shadow.

–”Pyra!”– you exclaim both happy and relieved as you scramble right into his arms.

The monster instantly wrapped his large arms around (Y/N), his own body tensing up, as if feeling the distress of his human and knowing they’ve been chased by something, fact that clearly angered him. When the sounds of metal scraping the floor and slow heavy footsteps began to resonate from afar, (Y/N) tensed up even more.

–”Th-There it comes… It- That thing, it looks like you!”– you warn him as you grip his vest tighter.

Pyra remains still for a moment as the noises get closer. After a while, he slowly stands up to his full height, lifting (Y/N) with him and putting them back to their feet to then gently push them behind him. The mentioned person carefully peeks from behind his large form, both afraid but also curious to see if it’s really another creature like Pyra and it actually exists or they just officially went coconuts and somehow imagined it all. Their doubts were dissolved once the other creature appeared from around the corner, his pace slow and unhurried. The monster froze in place as he stared at them, Pyra froze too and stared back. The atmosphere suddenly turned… Weird, not tense and heavy as one would expect, just odd and bizarre.

Still, (Y/N) didn’t feel at ease at all. There is a reason humans fear the unknown, and that’s the main factor that keeps the mentioned person on high alert. They have absolutely no idea of what to expect to happen next, are these two about to fight? Will the other creature turn around and leave? Will it somehow change Pyra’s mind and he will kill them? Are they in danger? Should they run? Wait? Pray?

A breathless gasp escaped their lips when the other creature began to move, slowly making his way towards them two. What freaked and confused (Y/N) even more is the fact that Pyra doesn’t seem bothered by it at all, he remains still in his place with absolutely no intent to stop the other monster.

When the second beast got way too close for their liking, and Pyra was still doing nothing about it, (Y/N) let out a shaky breath out and stepped away from their lover to then begin to back away on their own.

–”No. N-No stop, that’s-...”– you swallow nervously as you shoot a pleading glance to your beast. –”Pyra…”–

But he doesn’t react to their pleas, he doesn’t even look at them… And when the other beast was right next to him is when he finally does move, slowly turning around, and just like the other executioner, he begins to slowly walk towards (Y/N) in the same menacing manner, not like they’re his lover, but another victim to punish…

This scene broke (Y/N)’s heart into numerous tiny pieces, is… Is that it? Is Pyra really going to just… Kill them here and now? After all this time they’ve been together he… He’s just going to throw all that away like it’s nothing? Like they are nothing?... Silly them, of course he will, he’s Pyramid Head, the executioner, an immortal and eternal being created to punish and kill. Who are they to him?... They are nothing, just a little meaningless human… Just (Y/N).

The moment their back collides with a wall, their survival instincts kick in. Even though deep down they knew that their fate is practically written on their forehead, their mind was focused on the most primal desire that a human can have in case of facing danger; run away.

And so they do, they obey their instincts. When they notice an opening between the other monster’s large body and a wall to squeeze through, they bold forward with no care in the world and miraculously dodging his arm that attempted to grab and stop them from escaping. They let out a breathless chuckle out of shock that they actually managed to dodge that by ducking, such a silly maneuver actually wor-.

Suddenly something gets a hold of the back of their shirt and yoinks them back, right against Pyra himself. He holds them tightly against his chest, one arm being more than enough to keep the panicked human in place despite all the desperate struggles to break free. (Y/N) is beyond terrified now, they feel Pyra’s arm tighten around them while the other one gets so close that he ends up pressing his body against their front. Now being basically sandwiched and completely immobile, (Y/N) is feeling like passing out at any second. In any other occasion they’d be so flustered and aroused by this, but now? Oh their poor mind is being flooded with terrible images of how the two executioners will end them, the newer thought worse than the previous one. They’re shivering like crazy, eyes shut tightly, waiting for the wave of pain to come as the monsters will begin to skin them alive…

But after nothing happening for a solid minute, (Y/N) gathers enough courage to finally open their eyes and see what’s going on and why these two beasts are not doing anything. The instant they peek up, the two monsters let out that famous amused rumble, which due to the closeness, made (Y/N)’s whole body vibrate, super weird (and kinda pleasant) feeling.

(Y/N) was about to yell in anger, thinking that these two are seeing their fear and pain of the betrayal as something funny, but such chance was lost the moment they began to feel big hands roam around their body, caressing and feeling every curve through their clothes. The gesture wasn’t aggressive or mocking, but affectionate and loving, just like Pyra’s actions towards them on a daily basis.

Now (Y/N) is confused and quite dumbfounded. Didn’t these two have the intention to murder them? Why is this other monster suddenly so docile? Are they truly safe? Wha-

A shiver ran through their body when the executioner in front of them managed to slip his hand under their shirt, tracing the rough yet warm skin of his bare palm through the softer skin of their abdomen and chest. They let out a surprised squeak when the hand reached higher and brushed against their nipple, the contact causing (Y/N)'s body to shiver, and it only got worse when the beast began to rub it as it let out an amused purr. Another whimper escaped their mouth when Pyra’s hand made its way through their inner thigh, squeezing and rubbing their flesh gently until it stopped right between their legs, his movements getting progressively bolder and suggestive with each little sound that left that pretty mouth of theirs. (Y/N)’s eyes widened as they realized what the two monsters are trying to initiate.

–”Wa-Wait no-! I- I’m- I’m n-not ready for th-this!”– you stammer nervously as you try to clumsily wiggle out their grasp, face already red and flustered. –”You- You two s-sto-!”–

They have no chance to even finish the sentence as something warm and wet suddenly entered their mouth, making contact with their own tongue, which suddenly turned the action into some very sloppy kiss. Their struggles also lead to nothing, both monsters only squeezed them tighter against each other, reducing (Y/N)’s mobility even more. This continues for a couple of seconds, until the "kiss" finally stops and (Y/N) is finally allowed to breathe again, their mouth completely wetted with their and Pyra’s saliva. As they pant like a dog, trying to recatch their breath, they feel Pyra’s hand travel up to their face and wrap his hand around their face, rubbing their cheek lovingly as his tongue playfully wiggles in front of them.

(Y/N) suddenly gasps shakily as they feel something hard being pressed against their front and back, and by the way both monsters growled, they knew exactly what it was and what’s about to happen.

They shouldn't want this, they should try to get away and put a stop to this, they really should… But it’s hard, it’s hard to think straight when their mind has been poisoned with their own arousal and lust. Their logic side is saying no, but their whole body and most of their mind is screaming yes.

As if reading their mind, both monsters made a pleased sound and the next thing they know is that their body was swung over Pyra’s shoulder and taken somewhere... But it didn’t mean they wouldn’t get completely blown up in a moment, and Pyra’s big hand squeezing their ass and thighs is a reminder of that. They’re then brought into one of the classrooms of the school and their body is placed on one of the tables, just like the little delicious treat they were.

From their spot, (Y/N) stares at the two beasts with half lidded eyes and lovesick gaze. It’s like being under some sort of spell whenever things get heated between them and Pyra, and now that there are two of them? Oh, it’s like being hypnotized to act like a slave of their own lustful desires.

The two monsters were kind enough to actually undress (Y/N) (instead of destroying their clothes). And now, fully exposed and being in all fours, they silently observes as both executioners position themselves. The other beast is right behind them, one hand placed on their hips and the other one pulling down his vest, revealing an already fully erect and hard cock, tip brushing along their skin, making them shiver in anticipation. Pyra was right in front of them, vest fully opened and pants pulled down too, his cock just as erect and needy for his sweet lover, one gloved hand placed under their chin as his thumb rubs their cheek and lips lovingly, as if saying “you’ll do such a good job drear”.

The calm lasts for a couple more seconds… And then the whole world goes down without a warning. The beast from behind slams his whole length almost and ones, barely giving (Y/N) time to adjust to his size. Pyra also nearly choked them when he pushed the tip and part of his cock into (Y/N)’s mouth, but he was kind enough to wipe their tears of pain and pleasure.

This was both a torture and a treasure, the roughness and feral neediness of these monsters made (Y/N) feel a certain type of way. The knowledge that two powerful beings craved for them, THEM, so so badly made them feel both very special and flustered, just what did the executioner see in them to make him want their body and soul so much? Crave for them both sexually and emotionally, want nothing but to be close to them and keep them to himself, not just like a trophy or a pet, but as something worth to worship.

And they did, they really felt oddly worshiped despite being absolutelly destroyed by them. Feeling the one from behind dig his fingers into their flesh as he pushes into them, trying to bring them closer to his own body with each thrust and the distorted rumbles and groans he makes when the contact between their skins is missing, even for a brief second, only proves how much he wants them close. Pyra was too showing the effect they had on him, saliva actively dripping from that little hole in his helmet where the tongue would come out, hand placed in the back of (Y/N)’s head as he fucks their mouth and throat, and the fact that he’s not thrusting with more force also proves the care he has for them. They both could be rougher, they both could be more selfish, they know they totally could destroy them if they really wanted to… But they actively chose not to, because even in this feral and lustful state they’re in, they care for them, they care for their little sweet (Y/N).

The action doesn’t last too long, as (Y/N) is barely holding themselves back from coming ,and eventually it got too much. The second the monster from behind felt their release, he let out a growl and quickened his pace. (Y/N)’s body began to shiver, wobbly limbs barely supporting their own weight due to the overwhelming feeling of fullness and the lack of oxygen, air they can hardly get since Pyra’s pace got faster as well. When they eventually collapsed, their body miraculously remained in place and it all thanks to the beast behind them, who caught them and held them up with a single large hand placed on their chest.

It was hard to keep up, hard to keep themselves from coming again, but they must refuse, must holdup, must wait for the two monsters fucking their brains out to come before allowing their own sweet release again. And just as they reached their absolute limit, so did the two beasts. The taste and the sensation of their release drunken (Y/N) completely, eyes rolling as they let out a weak muffled moan as they're sent both to heaven and hell at the same time, their inside burning and their skin shivering under the cold sweat.

Once done, Pyra takes his still hard cock out of (Y/N)’s mouth, allowing them to take all these needed gulps of air as the white liquid drips from their mouth and down their chin, even after trying to swallow it they still got messy, a picture that their lover absolutely adored.

Though (Y/N) was quite tired, they know this is not the end, this is just the beginning˜.

They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly lifted and their back is pressed against the solid and warm exposed torso of the beast behind them. The table they were previously on had been flung across the whole classroom with great force and the next thing they know is that they’re completely immobilized again by Pyra’s body pressing their form against the monster behind. And soon enough, (Y/N)’s mind is being turned into mush again when the beasts begin to move again, their thrusts strong and hitting all the sweet and most sensitive spots of theirs.

Their movements were unnaturally coordinated, knowing exactly when to thrust and how to move so their helmets won’t collide. It was both freaky and fascinating to see, which left (Y/N) thinking if Pyra is really as simple as they initially thought, or is he the embodiment of something way more sinister-.

Their thoughts melted into a mass of letters and blurry shapes at the sensation of the rough fingers of the beast from behind rub their sensible nipples again, sending violent jolts and shivers with the mildest movements. Now (Y/N) was a complete panting and moaning mess, though their sounds were slightly muffled by Pyra’s broad chest, even slightly suffocating them at times with how close he got (not like they mind it). They always cringed at how vocal they can get during sex but they also knew better than to try to quiet the noises after learning the hard way how much their monstruous lover adores to hear them.

This fucking continued for a good ammount of time, (Y/N) already lost count of how many times they came, they have absolutely no clue! All they know is that they’re like in heaven, seeing stars and impossible colors of light flash before their eyes with each release just to then fall back into their mortal body and suffer the consequences of all the overstimulation and the generally overwhelming sensations. How are they still awake and breathing? They have no idea, but it did kinda boost their ego to know they’re tougher than they thought.

Eventually, the thrusts come to an end after the two monsters came one last time, causing (Y/N) to hide their face deeper into Pyra’s chest as they sink their fingers into his flesh and scratch his scarred skin with their nails. Even after coming and filling them up real' good yet again, the executioners remained in place, not pulling away from (Y/N) and still holding them against each other.

After regaining part of their breath, (Y/N) pulls back and their eyes wide at the sight of all the marks they left along Pyra’s broad chest and abdomen, both scratch and bite marks. The executioner from behind also received some lovely scratches on his body as well, when did they even manage to make these? None of the monsters seemed bothered by the marks though, and their hands roaming over (Y/N)’s body is a clear confirmation of that, showing just how pleased they are with their performance, even if they didn’t really do anything.

Now that the heat is slowly dying (Y/N) should feel cold, yet the warm skin of the beasts keep them perfectly warm and comfortable, their big hands traveling around their body, soothing the growing soreness in their muscles and worshiping every inch of their soft and tender skin, despite it being covered in sweat and drops of their load.

(Y/N) wanted to cry, but not out of pain, but of how loved they felt in that moment. The surprisingly gentle and affectionate caressing, the soft purrs and rumbles that at times resembled praises, and the overall atmosphere among them three felt so overwhelmingly comforting and loving, nothing like the heated lustful air from moments before.

Tiredness and exhaustion made itself known and they began to slowly doze off. Luckily, they didn’t have to worry about having a pillow, the chest of the two monsters were a perfect replacement, so warm and kinda soft now that their bodies and muscles relaxed a bit.

Unknowingly to (Y/N), a little smile formed on their lips. Yes, they're still pretty much nothing compared to a creature like Pyramid Head, but the fact that this same creature, or in this case, creatures, are all over them, a simple little human, makes (Y/N) feel this alien thrill and warmth.

They're still just (Y/N) though.

Their (Y/N).

Ţ̴̡̤͕̝̱̙͎̗͓͎͔̤͍͍̺̖̣̥͇͔̺̖̬̑̅͆̅ͅͅ ̷̨̢̢̡̡̡̧̨̬̲͈̹̦̤̻̬̳͎̳͔̬̘̤̤͚̮͇̪̗͍̺̟̦̯̙͇͔͓͈̫̾̾̂̂̚͠H̸̪͇͚͙̫͇̯̆̚ ̵̧̜͔͎̙͈̦̥̣̥͕̅̆́̆̑͗̈͛̇̓̾̏̇̌͛̾̓̉̀͛̓͆̈́̇̃́̄́̑̊͐̎̍͊̂̈́͆̕̚͘͘͝͝Ȩ̵͈̟̜͓̥͙̣͙̲̤̰̫̟̭̲̪͔͗͒̓̀̊̊͋̿̉̿͜��͇͉̩̗̩͕̮̲̳̼͖̜̳̙ͅͅ ̷̘̦̜̻͓̒̽͛̚͝Ì̴̡̧̡̧͓̭̝̥̱̻̦̻͔͙̜̳̘̣̘̻̗̫̮̬͖̝͕̬͕͕͐͋͋͆̔̂̍͌͑̏̌͌̚̚ͅ ̵̨̜̻̬̲̬̩̤̹̩̮͈̮̭͈̙̦̪͕͕̭̠̝̝̀̿̓̀̌̌͊̅ͅR̶̫̯̬͚͚̝̦͋͌͒͐̀̄͌̃̓̌̈́̉̄͐͆

#nothomegal fic #pyramid head x reader #pyramid head #slasher x reader #gn reader #pyramid head smut #nothomegal smut fic

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dotster001 · 4 months

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For Tuna; Duel End

You can vote for the next ending here

Chapters One Two Three Choose a different ending

“I've had it! They're all worthless!” Grim shouted as he stormed into Ramshackle.

You looked up warily from the book you were reading on the sofa.

“Who's worthless, Grim?”

“They are!” He screeched, throwing some folders on the ground. You sighed at the mess you would no doubt have to clean up.

“Well, why are they worthless?” You moved to start cleaning up the folders, and he hissed at you. You retracted your hand.

He stared for a moment, before looking off into the distance.

“I, uh, have to do a partner project, for extra credit. And I'd narrowed it down to who I thought I should pick, but all of them are stupid head poopy butts.”

“That's rough, Grimmy,” you sighed, noticing one of the folders had a familiar name. You raised a brow. “How is Silver a stupid head poopy butt?”

Grim scowled.

“He just is. Don't ask too many questions!” he sighed sadly. “I don't know what to do,Y/N, everyone I thought was perfect for this project is awful. I feel like I'm starting over!”

“Well, can I be your partner?”

“That would defeat the entire purpose,” he pouted.

Ah, probably an assignment that was meant to build his independence from you.

“Deuce always needs extra-”

“Blech!”

Not Deuce then. Got it.

“Well, what if you make a list of all the possible people who aren't, what was it?”

“Stupid head poopy butts.”

“Right. Then you can pick one randomly. If that one turns out to be a…well you know, you can pick a different one. And then if no one is good, please just go to Deuce. For the love of God, your grades reflect on me as well!”

“Go to Deuce?” He spat. “You have no idea what you ask of me, human! But still….your idea of picking randomly is not bad! Perhaps I have been putting too much thought into something that requires no thought at all!”

You highly doubted that.

But he seemed happy again, putting together a list of seemingly unrelated names. You noted he wrote down your lab partner Alano’s name, before snickering and crossing it out.

Once he had all the names written down, he pulled a name out of a hat.

“Sebek?” You asked. “He's smart. He has a lot of life experience too. I bet he'd be a great fit.”

“Yeah, and his dad's a dentist,” Grim said with a worrying smile.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound excited for him, despite your confusion. “If you want, I can walk you over there. I need to give him back the notes I borrowed, anyway.”

“I don't know if that's a good idea,” Grim frowned.

“Okay, I can ask Mal Mal to bring the notes then-”

“I've changed my mind. Come with me.”

….

When Sebek wasn't in class, he was in the Diasomnia courtyard, dueling the training dummy. It was worse for wear; chunks of it were missing, and the parts still together had deep scars.

Never had he felt such painful turmoil in his life. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw you on someone's arm, be it Malleus, Lilia, Silver, Leona, or any of the numerous people Grim had chosen, then fired, within the past week.

Fired. They wouldn't be with you. But still.

He was snapped out of his heated fighting with the clang of metal against his sword. He blinked back to awareness, and processed Silver standing before him, sword in hand, body in an offensive position.

“You need to snap out of it,” Silver said. Sebek snarled, and swung at Silver, and was deflected easily.

“Do you think you're good for anyone right now?” Silver asked, and Sebek swung again, blind rage building up in him.

What the hell did Silver know about him? Who did he think he is?

“Father and Lord Malleus are both worried about you. Is that any way for a knight to act?”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH, HUMAN!”

Swords clanged against each other, one knight at peace, the other bursting with rage.

“If there's something you want, go get it!”

“You don't know anything about me!”

“I know the face you made when Grim told you he chose me, and the relief in your eyes when he changed his mind.”

“SHUT UP!”

Clang. Clang. Silver landed a hit with the flat of his blade, making Sebek fall back. His anger, if even possible, rose to new levels. He ran at Silver, sword swinging, only for Silver to side step and make Sebek trip.

“Y/N is a wonderful creature. You would be good together!”

“Ah!”

Clang.

“They bring out a gentler side to you that makes you a well rounded knight.”

Clang.

“But you have to admit what you want, Sebek!”

Clang. Clang. Clang.

“What do you want!”

“I want Y/N!” Sebek shouted, finally disarming Silver, and knocking his feet out from under him.

He breathed heavily, wiping sweat from his brow as he stared down at his defeated senior. Silver, as always, was smiling peacefully. A little too peacefully. He pointed over Sebek 's shoulder, and he turned to look. He felt immediate horror as he saw you standing with your cat creature.

You shyly waved at him, and Sebek felt his face grow bright red.

“I, uh, came to give you back your notes,” you said with a bashful smile.

“Oh.”

“And Grim wanted to ask you if-”

“It can wait, henchhuman! You two obviously have some things to talk about. Come Silver!” Grim turned on his heel to go, then turned back to Silver with a horrific glare.

“I said, let's go. You've clearly lost.”

Silver laughed happily.

“I'm not sure I did lose, Grim.” He stood up, gently clapped Sebek 's shoulder, and leaned in to whisper “good luck.” He hummed happily as he followed Grim into the Diasomnia castle.

Sebek stared pointedly at the ground, neither of you ready to break the silence.

After a bit, “You want me, huh?” Followed by a soft giggle.

“Who wouldn't want you? You're an excellent human,” he muttered.

“You're very sweet, Sebek.”

He looked up in shock, as you smiled at him. You weren't…rejecting his advances? And Grim wasn't stopping him? Had the world come to an end, and this was just a blissful dream in his last moments? No, Malleus would be in the dream too.

He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted as his ringtone played the Valley of Thorns national anthem. He apologized quickly and picked up, expecting Master Lilia or his royal highness.

Instead he was greeted by the voice of your cat.

“I'm giving you a chance, crocodile boy. You know what that means right?”

Sebek grunted in affirmative, turning away so you wouldn't see his face.

“There had better be three cases of luxury tuna on Ramshackle’s doorstep tomorrow morning, or you can kiss Y/N goodbye.”

He almost completely derailed himself by imagining kissing you, in any capacity.

“Understood,” he grunted. There would be no tuna. He didn't need Grim's manipulations to hold your love. But he didn't want to deal with the argument, not when he was seconds away from getting the one he longed for.

“Good.” Grim hung up, and Sebek turned back to you.

“Malleus was just…it doesn't matter,” he ran up to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his head in your shoulder. He held back the slight tremble his body wanted to give at finally having you in his arms. You wiggled a little bit, and he tightened the hold, not ready to let you out of his grasp yet. He was so unbelievably happy.

“Sebek, you're all sweaty!” You whined.

He pouted, taking a step back and placing a hand on your head.

“I am a knight, human. I train day and night to protect the ones I love. You're going to have to get used to the sweat of hard work!” He proclaimed proudly, before grinning. “After all, part of why I'll be training is so that I can be worthy of you.”

You gave a mock sigh, then opened your arms to him. He didn't hesitate to embrace you once again, tightly holding onto you, and the memory of this day, both of which he intended to hold onto forever.

The End

Tag list- @leonia0 @lleoll @eccedentesiast-sapphic @supertmntgirl @cxsmicdustdreams @aethermostbeloved @krystalkiller25 @asmallbean3 @theneurodivergentdummy @candlewitch-cryptic @smilingfox22-blog @phantomgaming1920 @the-dumber-scaramouche @noidonothavetimeforthis @bontensbabygirl @xxoomiii @somany-fandoms-solittle-time @bre99 @stupidsimp @sus0daddy @a-small-tyrant @imlost-sendhelp @mizukiblogs @savanaclaw1996 @kazumify @fatally-incorrect @glo0b @alleykat2014 (I combined your idea with a second idea I had 😁)

#for tuna #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek x reader #twst sebek #sebek zigvolt

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fanaticsnail · 4 months

Text

The Spear and the Sword

Masterlist Here.

Word Count: 3,807

This is the final fic for the year, a wonderful prompt given by an anon months ago. Thank you to @since-im-already-here for beta reading and correcting grammar. If there's any issue, know my sister is to blame, folks.

@gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @vespidphoenix happy new year!

Warning: blood, gore, flirtatious dialogue, mutual pining, playfulness in battle, enemies to lovers, warlord reader, fluff, Mihawk x female!reader.

I said I'd get it done before the new year. Happy New Years Eve to my fellow Aussies!

This was too much. This was far too much. This was far too much for lord Dracule Mihawk to fend off alone. His great sword Yoru was spattered with the blood of several foes, each impact meeting his blade creating more lethargy in the broody sword master of the seas. His title of “worlds greatest” was hanging in the balance as more enemies approached him with more fervour than ever before.

“Garp,” Mihawk growled into his den-den-mushi earpiece, “you said there would be a few hundred. This is in the upwards of a couple thousand. What is going on back there?” Static and groans of battle were met within the earpiece in return, huffs of gruff breath and thumps of fists coinciding within the ferocious melody.

“It was all I was aware of, Mihawk,” Garp growled once the battle was silenced in the background of the call, “my marines are barely holding up on this end. The other warlords are occupied, I’ve got none to spare you.” Mihawk almost met with a single shot from a bullet, weaving away with a dance-like twirl to dodge the metallic, circular object. He swiped his lengthy blade within the air and kicked back the individual who shot at him, his torso falling to impale themselves against a fence post as a result of the blow.

The town he was tasked to protect, a marine base home to several prominent family members within the world government; alongside the sick, weak, young, and elderly, were currently engaged in a war-like battle with pillagers and pirates from the four corners of the north, east, south and west blues. This army was accumulated under a foreign flag, their jolly roger unfamiliar to both marines and warlords alike. Mihawk had been fighting at the front line alone, his ship destroyed under the destruction of war: his traveling vintages of fine wines claimed by the seas.

As another made his approach, Mihawk huffed out an exhausted and frustrated breath while continuing to swipe to relinquish the foes and meet them with the sharpened edge of his blade.

“Mihawk,” Garp interrupted his flow of battle with his voice cutting through the air within his snail earpiece, “we might have someone available. You’ve worked with her before, a warlord like you. She’s on her way.”

“Boa?” Mihawk asked while placing his fingertip to the shell of the earpiece, “I thought you said she’s on the other side of the north blue right now.” Garp growled at one of his underlings, directing them in some nonsensical way that Mihawk couldn’t quite register.

“No, not Boa,” Garp replied, panting into the earpiece with exhaustion overcoming himself. More clangs, clashes and thumps were heard within the earpiece, Mihawk turning to continue forcing the pillagers back to the shore of the beach.

“No,” Mihawk uttered firmly into the earpiece, “anyone but her. Give me cadets, give me your least valuable soldiers, give me prisoners. Literally anyone else-.”

“I don’t have anyone else!” Garp roared into the earpiece, prompting Mihawk to flinch away from it while furrowing his brows in anger. Both men managed to calm themselves down, Mihawk taking a moment to silence his rage by taking a few deep breaths.

“Put your former grievances and your ego aside, warlord,” Garp ordered within the earpiece, “she’s what we have, and she’s perfect. World’s greatest weapons-master, in fact.”

“I’m aware of that,” Mihawk murmured through his clenched teeth, his teeth grinding as he bit back his lackluster words, “she’s violent, impulsive, ferocious, messy. She’s feral and she’s the bane of my existence.”

“Have you even spoken to her?” Garp questioned, a small humorless laugh falling through his widened grimace, “she’s exactly what we need, Mihawk. You do this, and I’ll let you off the tether to tend your farms, sharpen your sword – or even sheathe it for an entire year.” Mihawk narrowed his eyes, huffing out a frustrated breath and brandishing his sword out to the side in preparation for another recuperated attack from the approaching armada.

“How soon will she be here?” Mihawk asked, his beard protruding while snarling with his upper lip drawing back.

“She’s already on the other side of the war line,” Garp confirmed with him, a final slam of iron-barred doors echoing within the background of the ship, “I’ll patch her through now.”

You tilted your head down, looking up at the coastline full of ships approaching the marine-base through your lengthy eyelashes. You drew back your playful smirk, allowing the elevation of your heartbeat to begin to work itself to frenzy within your ribcage. You were known far and wide for your battle-ready ferocity; allowing your rage to take over your emotions within the thralls of battle to relinquish many a foe.

Combat mastery began at a young age; bare knuckle boxing in gladiator cage-matches being one of the first types of combat you overtook the championship of in your youth. After boxing and grappling, you moved on to wielding large hammers and battle axes, enjoying the weight within your fists as you crushed skulls and decapitated limbs. After heftier weapons, you opted to train under the mentorship of a superior fighter. They taught you to throw the spear and reclaim it swiftly, giving you pointers to always meet your target with the piercing tip of the bladed end.

You were nothing, coming from nothing. No family to speak of, you traveled the continents, claiming title after title of world's greatest weapon-master with ease. The only one you were yet to best was the current reigning lord of Kuraigana, his title of World’s Greatest Swordsman continuing to badge itself against his bare chest with pride. Arrogant prick was the first thought that sprung to mind regarding the nature of his aura. You had seen posters, articles and even catalogs regarding his training history and weapons mastery.

As your status was elevated to warlord, the world government approached you for protection against several foes and to take on contracts they would rather not involve themselves with, you accepted under two conditions: they allow you to handle matters in your own way, being the first. Your own way, being: “I will get this done, regardless of the mess, and you will clean it up after I’m done with it.”

The other condition is you were to be given absolutely all the information available to you regarding the contracts: no children, no women: no innocents. Those were your rules. You didn’t care how feral the children were, nor how arrogant and uptight the women were. If they were innocent, you refused to do harm to them, or unleash your wrath onto the world government themselves. There were absolutely no qualms to your requests, printed in bold atop your profile.

Vice-Admiral Garp had no quarry with your methods, usually placing a den-den-mushi somewhere about within the battlefield to watch your barbaric tirades on the field in awe at your ferocity.

That was how Mihawk knew of your battle prowess, your pictures almost always covered in some form of dirt, mud and blood within the heat of battle. He absolutely despised mess, but was always held captive to your almost beckoning and sultry gaze as you removed your spearhead from another foe. And you knew him in a similar likeness, his images always clean-cut with not a splash of battle worn on him. Given the call you just received from Garp, you were quivering in anticipation to remedy such a plight from him.

“I’m going to patch you through now, Weaponsmaster,” Garp’s lilted brogue uttered into the den-den-mushi within your ear. His voice almost was quivering itself in anticipation of witnessing the carnage you were about to unleash against the armada as far as the naked eye could see.

“Thank you, Vice-Admiral,” you sang in an almost sultry tone within the earpiece, “I know you’ll be watching closely.”

“Aye, I will be lass,” Garp’s voice laughed into the earpiece. You were very well aware of how fond the older gentleman was of watching you work, not minding in the slightest at the attention and preference you got from him.

“Mihawk, you there?” Garp’s voice echoed within the earpiece, prompting you to wince away from his growl slightly.

“I am, Vice-Admiral.” A moment of pause occurred before Mihawk spoke again, “Weapons-master.”

“Sword-master,” you smirked, your voice almost purring at him, “a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“That I’m sure of,” Mihawk replied in a bored tone. You were slightly taken aback by his standoffish mannerism, your brows furrowing low. He absolutely knew who you were, holding a title as warlord and world’s greatest weapons-master. You rotated your shoulders and clicked your neck to rid yourself of annoyance and prepare yourself for battle.

“Conceited Cunt,” you spat, unaware that the contact was still drawn between the three of you – only becoming aware once Mihawk’s voice relayed back to you, “Feral Filiform.”

“Easy now,” Garp’s voice called over the linked den-den-mushi, “Complete this feat first, then get to your flirting.”

“If you think that’s what flirting looks like,” Mihawk winced into the shell, touching his index finger to the outer shell of the den-den-mushi, “I pity your wife.” You chuckled at his crude comment, almost tangibly feeling the rage pouring off Garp in waves through the den-den-mushi attached to your inner ear.

“Save your insults for the enemy, pirate,” Garp spat into the earpiece. You heard Mihawk hum, prompting you to roll your eyes at the interaction. The ships over the shore began to fall closer to your small vessel - the rise of the tide ushering you into the new thralls of battle. You noticed there were a few hundred ships, all carrying an amassment of crew of various sizes. You once again rolled your shoulders back and pursed your lips.

Placing your fingertip to secure the shell deeper within your ear, you smirked out a final taunt to the warlord.

“This is what was bothering you? Couldn't you handle the troop all by yourself, swordsman?” You cooed into the voice responder. Silence and static was met within the drum of your ear, a stifled growl also accompanying it. You decided to get in a final jab to taunt him, “I could dispatch the armada by myself. Why don’t you take a break, old man? Sit your pretty little ass down on the beach and sit back to watch the show.”

“I’d like to see you try, barbarian,” Mihawk growled in return. Your ship brushed against the hull of the first ship to the rear of the fleet; your presence immediately making itself known as you housed yourself effortlessly over the railing. You laughed into the earpiece, feeling the rapidity of your heartbeat rising in elevation to frenzy yourself before first contact is made with your many foes.

Your spear was flung through your hands to indent itself against the top mast at the middle of the vessel, skewering several members of the mighty crew onto its pole as meat would dangle from a kebab. You grappled, kicked, flung yourself at the crew; using your hands and their own weapons against them to relinquish them from their life. Once they all fell victim to your battle mastery, you again reached your hand up to the shell-responder.

“I bet my left breastplate I will get to the middle before you, Swordsman,” you taunted him, your legs carrying themselves with haste towards the railing of the ship. You jumped high, the air lifting you and drawing your body down against the next vessel.

“I bet my waist-belt you absolutely won’t, Wild-Woman,” the swordsman snarled into the earpiece, Yoru circling around and pushing the troops back with one fell swipe. Mihawk’s teeth drew themselves back, enraged at his taunt being met with a small melodic giggle.

“Oh, this is how we’re playing, is it?” You whispered breathily into the earpiece, your spear clutched within the fist of your dominant hand as you stabbed at the next approaching foe. You giggled again, feeling at home on the battlefield. The life drained from the eyes of the enemy under the tip of your spear; another shipful of foes falling on their knees at your expert ministrations.

“Fine,” you smiled into the earpiece, singsong and humor dripping from your tongue, “I’ll see your belt and raise you my entire breastplate.” Mihawk growled in response. You held your ground, immediately flinging yourself at the next ship.

Rather than to take on several members of this crew, you shrugged your shoulders and thrust your spear downwards - sinking the vessel below your feet. You sprinted against the ship’s deck as it began to be claimed by the sea water below, ushering you on to the next ship. You threw your spear to the next vessel, embedding the tip into a lit cannon and witnessed the beautiful implosion it made; launching the spear back into your awaiting palm as you jumped onto the next one. The blast sunk the ship it was fired from, the cannonball flinging itself to sink the one laying perpendicular to the vessel.

Mihawk was not paying attention to your battle mastery, assuming you were still undertaking the first vessel you had docked your ship against and fighting like some untrained and feral marine. He snickered at the thought, himself already aboard his second vessel after pushing back the troop from their approach of the shore.

“I’m looking forward to claiming your breastplate,” Mihawk’s voice audibly smirked into the earpiece, “to add to the winning pool, I’ll claim that spear too.” A shiver of anticipation shuddered against his spine at the audible growl he managed to pull from your parted lips. Holding your spear more firmly within your hand, you growled back at him.

“There are several things I doubt you’d be able to do correctly, swordsman. Wielding my spear is the first that springs to mind,” you smirked, watching the bubbling of water rise as another ship sank against your skill, “pleasing a woman is the other.”

In order to remain silent while listening to your quips back and forward to each other, Vice-Admiral Garp clapped his wide palm over his lips to stifle an outrageous and unbridled laugh rising in his chest. Bogard smirked, hearing the commotion from the speaker molded into the desktop den-den-mushi, placing his hat over his eyes to hide his joy.

“I’ll gladly show you I can on both counts, woman.”

“You can certainly try, warlord”

“I will absolutely succeed, fellow warlord.”

Garp and Bogard were held on the edge of their seats, watching through binoculars the battle mastery balanced between you both while your quippy dialogue read as commentary to your mighty feats.

“Fine,” you again smirked into your earpiece, clothes and armor littered with the spilt blood of your enemies while your hair stuck to your face under the salty sea-spray, “If I am to give up my weapon to the cause, I will have something of equal value offered in return.”

“Yoru is not something I would ever part with for something as childish as a-,” Mihawk began, his words halting as you offered your trade.

“-If I win this little coo, you pretentious prick, your pride is coming with me,” you called into the shell attached to your ear. Feeling all the pent up rage and frustration of the respect of your skill not being met in return for your affection, you offered the best solution you could find.

“If I get to these exact coordinates, all foes falling before me,” you relayed the coordinates, Garp, Bogard and Mihawk hanging on your every utterance, “you will report back to Vice-Admiral Garp donning nothing but your stupid cross-blade, your stupid Yoru and your feathered hat.” The battle paused, the enemies halting their approach with their brows furrowing in almost disgust and awe. You held up a halting hand at them, awaiting a vocal response from Mihawk to your taunt.

Mihawk’s brows themselves were lowered, his eyes narrowed as he sought you out in the field. He couldn’t find you, couldn’t see a trail of destruction in your wake. He continued to search for you within the crowd, but was still unable.

“In that complete and utter unlikelihood,” Mihawk began, still craning his neck to seek out your form, “I accept the terms. Prepare to have your spear, your breastplate and my own satisfaction in claiming some semblance of femininity from you while I wield your body effortlessly.”

“And you prepare yourself to be absolutely humbled in response, your pride and ego removed because-,” you smirked, your eyes finally meeting with the yellow hue of the feathered warlord only a few hundred feet away from you, “-I’m nearly there.”

Mihawk’s eyes widened as he witnessed you jump to the next vessel, twirling within the air to throw a small axe into the base of the ship and sinking it by placing a wide hole within its bow. You were, indeed, very close to the coordinates. His widened gaze looked harder, noticing the absence of over half of the wide armada sinking to the bottom of the sea. How had he not noticed it before? Why, in all his stupidity, would he ever agree to this without looking properly first? Clearly, he had underestimated you. Or overestimated his ability to easily outmatch you.

The elements had changed along with the tide. Your battle-ready ferocity was overcast by an aura of calm playfulness; you giggling into the earpiece as you continued falling foe after foe beneath your spear, fist and axes. In turn, Mihawk was the one to begin to shower himself desperately in the blood of his enemies; curling up his lip at the mess alongside his stupidity at undertaking such a bet.

“C’mon Hawk, keep up. You’re nearly there. Flap your wings harder,” you’d giggle into the earpiece, uncaring whether blood, sinew or bone showered your body in the baptism of battle.

“Stop your stupid teeth from gnashing, Hyena. Your taunts mean very little to me,” Mihawk panted, his feet carrying him with more haste as he continued to unblinkingly search for you.

You giggled again in response, your feet almost carrying themselves closer to the finish line. Your enemies within the armada were fleeing from the utter horror you created, your wolfy grin and playful eyes not matching the energy of the gore befalling your form. Many simply dove overboard, ran to the next ship away from you in their cowardly retreat - only to be met with another approaching warlord with his mighty sword clutched in his dominant hand.

As Mihawk panted for breath, his adrenaline propelling him to the finish line leaving a trail of destruction in his wake; his steps quivered in his tracks as his gaze met with yours.

You were sitting on a barrel, twirling the twine around your spearhead nonchalantly with a litter of bodies laying at your feet. Your left brow was arched upwards, the knowing smirk plastered against your plush lips as you hummed a tune of victory through your nose.

“Looks like I’ll get to see what your other sword looks like,” you cooed in a melodic tune, not meeting his gaze and remaining aloof, “you can leave your boots at my feet. I think I might wear your coat home with me, Swordsman.”

“You are disgusting,” Mihawk spat at you, his breath finally catching up with him. He was now left breathless at witnessing your ferocity, the wild shape of your battle-worn eyes holding him hostage with tense emotion.

“You agreed to the terms, Mihawk. Now it’s time to pay up-,” you uttered darkly, snapping your head over to his form with your eyes narrowed at him.

“-I meant your appearance. So wild, so feral, so-,” his next words caught in his throat as you drew yourself down from your sat position atop the barrel, “-unladylike.” You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes in your approach. Wiping your forehead with the back of your arm, you rid your face of the bone, blood and sinew blocking your view of him. He was a very pretty man, the most beautiful you had seen in a long time. Although slightly taken aback by his clean and uptight appearance, you stood your ground.

“What would you have me wear then? Silks and satins while I dance amongst the chaos? I think not, lord Dracule Mihawk,” you spat at him, laughing dryly at your own comment. Mihawk sucked in a small breath through his nostrils, wincing at your comment with his lips curled into a snarl. You overemphasized a sigh, placing your spear against your back and stretched your arms to cool down your body.

“I’ll make you another deal then, Mihawk,” you smirked again up at his towering form, “I’ll go and get cleaned up and don some pretty little dress for you,” you prodded his bare chest with your index finger and traced a pattern against his pectorals, “and you can go and relay the play by play to Vice-Admiral Garp completely starkers, okay?”

Mihawk growled, eyes looking to your tender touch against his chest and almost again finding himself falling to his knees under your radiant ferocity. He rolled his neck, arched his soldiers back and leaned into your touch.

“Fine,” he spat in response, gripping your bloodied wrist beneath his palm and curled fingertips, “but it better be something tight and preferably black.” You giggled at his comment, raising your other hand up to his cheek and patting it affectionately with a small utterance.

“What a good boy you are,” you praised him with another cooing taunt, scrunching up your nose and smiling with your feral eyes, “now take off your boots, coat and pants and run along now. I’ll be all dolled up for you and ready for you at the waterfront tavern. I might even see that your clothes are cleaned, pressed and waiting once you arrive.”

Your comment finally broke him, a warm laugh cracking through his tough exterior and rumbling within his chest to pour from his mustached lips.

“It’s a shame I lost,” he leant his cheek into your touch, prompting you to furrow your brows in curiosity. He stooped his form lower to you, tickling your face with his playful and breathy whisper, “I would’ve liked to have shown you how well I can please a woman.”

BONUS

Eyes were either focussed exclusively on the ceiling or marines would simply turn around as the darkened and well seasoned lord of Kuraigana entered the military office building. Holding true to his word, and the promise of good company after his humiliation, he sauntered confidently into Vice-Admiral Garp’s office donning nothing but Yoru strapped to his back, his cross-blade hanging loosely from his neck, and his feathered hat atop his sea-sprayed, curled, dark locks.

#Mihawk #one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #mihawk x reader #mihawk x warlord!reader #dracule mihawk

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