#they pull a breaking bad moment... without the drugs

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 4 to Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Something has changed; no, actually everything has changed as you and Simon forget the world a moment finally let that passion run its course. The thought was that once you both had each other it would make things calm, but now you're not so sure. Maybe he is willing to risk more and maybe you are too. Having to sneak around isn't so bad, right? Maybe it could all work out... At least you hope so.

Word Count: 9.3 k

Warnings:

Part 5: Read here

Isn’t finally having the thing you’ve been craving supposed to calm the need for it? 

That’s what Simon had anticipated would happen once you had both come, but as he lays you back onto the cool floor of the shed, sliding up between your legs so that your lips can reconnect with an immediate breathlessness, the depth of his desire is still so overwhelming that he is choking on it, he has never felt more wrong. Gathering your wrists into one of his hands, he sets them above your head as his brown eyes flutter closed and he embraces your mouth as if it is his to ruin and with enough passion you feel drugged off its intensity.

No, finally having you has awakened a longing in him that he has never known before and nothing can stop it taking over until he feels completely consumed by it. 

The sounds of the stormy weather outside slowly die away and are replaced by the stillness of night as Simon’s wide torso keeps you pinned against the ground as if by the act of physically shielding you from the world he can stop the passage of time and stay immersed in the haze of ecstasy that your union has produced. How is he supposed to break the spell of this feeling when he didn’t know how starved for it he actually was until you brought it to the surface?

Time is forgotten as the pressure of his body molds yours to its curvature and soon another quarter of an hour has passed within a blink. One of you has to be the voice of reason and the longer his face stays locked to yours, the harder it is going to get; it’s inevitable that this has to end for now because he is drowning and if he doesn’t come up for air soon he isn’t going to make it out of here alive. Something has to be done and done fast. 

“We need ta get outside,” he murmurs through a break in your mouth’s connection. 

Why can’t the world just fucking wait a little longer? Goddammit, he is nowhere near done exploring you yet, but there is still a job to be done and duty has to call him back no matter how much he tries to wish it away. 

With a defeated groan he pulls his lips away from yours and suddenly a wave of misery washes over him. “Fuck, this is hard, luv,” Simon breaths into your face, the tip of his nose brushing up against yours as he struggles to keep his mouth away from taking yours again. “Just wanna stay here with ya all night.”

A shiver runs through you as his withdrawal from your lips leaves an emptiness in your chest that the cool night air seems to fill. You yearn for his mouth to come back, for him to say fuck it all and put it all on the line just to stay in here with you, but it’s not possible. 

You don’t fight it as he sits you both upright, keeping his arms around you for as much warmth as possible as he reaches over to first grab your bra and shirt off the ground. He makes certain to clean you up before helping you to slip the clothing back on to block out the weather so that he can release you without the temperature making you chilled. Simon gets to his feet and offers you his hand to help you up and you take it. 

You continue to watch in quiet surprise as he gathers the rest of your clothing, everything that he had removed just a short while ago. Except instead of just handing it off to you he bends down with your pants in hand and opens them up so that you can step into them. It’s a strangely tender ritual that you’ve stumbled into, the way he helps you get dressed as he does the same to himself in tandem: insisting without words by gently pushing your hands away each time you try to stop him so that he can zip your pants and buckle your belt up himself. You stand there silently through the delirious haze of your ecstasy admiring his work as a peculiar tugging aches in your chest. 

Another shiver runs up your spine, but it isn’t from being cold this time. 

Everything he had on before goes back on again, even the mask, though you notice his bone-patterned gloves stay shoved in the pocket on his vest. As he finishes his eyes drift to the door with a heavy heart because he knows that he’s stalled long enough and he is going to have to pull the bandaid off now otherwise he is never going to want to leave and someone needs to be on watch. 

A deep inhale and he opens the door to the refreshing, crisp atmosphere outside of your oasis. Simon emerges into the world as a different man than the one that went inside. He has a new addiction that leaves him feeling drunk with the way his head is still spinning and limbs feel heavy. Never did he think he would be forced to wrestle with the fact that his duty to this taskforce is no longer the most important thing to him, that everything he has known as truth is being turned on its head, and that it would be all because of you. A little infatuation is becoming more complicated and he doesn’t know how to handle it all.

Your eyes flit back towards the house as Simon shuts and secures the shed behind you with your heart sinking into your stomach. Wracking your brain you can’t come up with any more excuses to linger longer and you know it’s time to say goodnight whether you want to or not. 

“I-I guess I better head in,” you say as the lieutenant comes back to stand by your side, the disappointment in your voice hard to disguise. 

There are words on your tongue that you want to say in that moment, to bargain with him to keep you out here a little longer, but they get lost behind your lips and you instead stay silent; there is no sense in fighting the inevitability of your situation. You try to take a step, but before you can even make it a pace Simon’s hand reaches out and his knuckles brush up against yours before he hooks his fingers around your own so you are stuck in his grasp.

The act is done unintentionally, yet he doesn’t stop it. Maybe you could risk just a bit more time together as long as you can stay outside. There’s still a couple hours till Soap is scheduled to relieve him, so whatever excuse he can make to keep you out here with him, he will. 

“Have a smoke with me ‘fore ya go,” he says, more a demand than a request. 

Maybe he’s just as desperate not to have you go yet either; you can only hope that he needs your company just as bad as you need his. “Is that an order, lieutenant?” you clarify, playing off the nervous adrenaline making your voice tremble by teasing. 

As he peers back into your eyes sparkling in the moonlight, lighting up happily at the sentiment in his words, the attraction gripping his heart is too strong and he draws you back into him as he rips up the bottom of his mask to place another brief, but impassioned kiss to your lips. “It is, sergeant,” he answers. “Let me do my perimeter check and I’ll meet ya back at the front. Wait for me, yeah?”  

Those strong arms of his desperately want to stay filled with your body, but he has to let you go so that he can do what he is here to do. Another quick kiss he gives you before he pulls down his mask as he leaves you standing there in a stupor, head reeling with everything that has happened, and you take off back to the patch of ground a few yards from the front of the house where you had been set up before. 

Sitting in the grass under the stars with the cool breeze rippling through the loose strands of your hair, you think yourself alone for the moment as the thoughts race through your mind, but from within the house a pair of eyes secretly watches you from the shadow of the window. Even in the pale moonlight they catch the way your smile glints through the dark followed by the several deep breaths you take to calm yourself and they wonder if this is a result from the lieutenant walking out earlier that rustled them from sleep. 

Maybe it is nothing, something completely harmless, though they can’t help to wonder where you both were when the storm was at its peak. They continue watching until they hear footsteps near the front of the house and decide to creep back to their bed to avoid detection both from inside and out, making a mental note to stay aware of what they have seen tonight. 

You wait patiently in silence as you mull over your feelings until the sound of fast-stepping boots approaching breaks you out of your thoughts and looking up you see Simon has stopped right at your side. He shifts back a step and takes a seat on the ground behind you, parting his legs around your thighs so that you are seated between them. Tugging you to scoot back until you are against his chest he grabs the pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket as an arm snakes around your middle.

Keeping his hands off you isn’t an option anymore, not as the enchanting magnetism of your body that calls for his touch still tingles under his fingertips.

Moving his mask up and out of the way and placing the stick of tobacco in between his lips, he flicks the lighter to make it spark and takes a long pull as the tip glows bright orange. That first kick of nicotine he holds in to let it fully coat his lungs until the calming effect it produces fills his chest and pacifies his heavily beating heart. He exhales the billow of smoke and takes another puff before handing it down to you.

You’re not much of a smoker, but accept the cig willingly if only for it to chill you out so that you might be able to sleep once you leave here to go back to the house. Bringing it to your lips, you inhale deep as Simon’s head rests up against the side of yours. The contact causes you to shudder in his arms

“Are ya cold?” he asks, tilting his head around the side to catch your face in his sight. 

You shake your head, releasing the smoke from your mouth with a smile. “Not anymore” you answer as you pass the cig back for him to take his turn and settle against him. 

“Good,” he says through the inhale he takes, “can’t have ya bein’ uncomfortable, not wit me.”

There is a peace that settles over you both, cloaking you in a silence that doesn’t feel forced or uncomfortable. No words are needed to fill in the space, nothing that has to be said aloud anyway, as two people simply enjoy the physical company of the other, passing a cigarette back and forth taking shorter and shorter puffs to make it last as long as possible.  

The fact you cannot stay here in this moment for as long as you want feels like a crime.

Leaning your head on his shoulder, your gaze shifts towards the sky and you can see the clouds drifting away into the distance to reveal the clear night full of stars that has been concealed behind them. You stare up at those twinkling bits of light with a sense of wonder, unaware that Simon has not followed your gaze heavenward. 

“Clouds are finally clearing out,” you say offhandedly. “Guess the storm’s passed on. You know, I always like how beautiful the sky is after a heavy rain. All that chaos leads to everything becoming so pristine.”

There is something here that he finds beautiful, but it isn’t what’s swirling up above your heads; he’s holding it in his arms. He wants to say it aloud, he can feel the sentiment tickle the back of his throat, but for a reason he does not quite understand he stops himself and simply hands you back the cigarette after he takes his turn.  

It isn’t long until the cig has dwindled to nothing and once again you are thrust back into the reality of having to part. You check your watch as Simon flicks the butt away; it’s getting late and you need to get inside to try and get some rest so that you will be able to at least function tomorrow. 

“I should go, your relief will be coming before too long,” you say as the feeling of his lips pressing to your neck.

Simon nods against your shoulder as he too knows it’s time. He releases his arm from around you as he shifts you back to face him; one last look at you before you go.

Why is it so hard to find the words? He’s never been as tongue tied as he has been around you, but he’s able to settle on a phrase that he finds suitable enough. “Sleep well, yeah?” he says and you give a smile in response.

The feeling of his mouth hits you as he leaves you with one last kiss for you to take and you move up onto your feet a little less gracefully than you want after he breaks it. Your hand trails over his shoulder as you take off towards the house without looking back, feeling that you are stepping out of a dream as you make it to the door and shut it behind you.

His sight remains on your form until you step back inside the confines of the house and out of view. Suddenly being alone in all this silence has his mind spinning as it goes over the events that have transpired tonight. He’s usually so in control of himself, years of training making him the perfect soldier to push everything aside except for the task at hand, but now his emotions are running rampant through his veins.  

Though you’ve not really been too close before this, you aren’t strangers. Simon knows you already: he has been around you long enough to understand your sense of humor, your work ethic, how well you boost morale during long missions, your constant kindness no matter the circumstance, and you know him in similar ways too. It comes with the familiarity of serving together for the last couple of years, making the quick intensity of your intimacy so natural.

Taking another cigarette from his pack, he inhales more of the numbing smoke as his mind involuntarily wanders back to how you felt in his arms and how perfectly your curves fit into their embrace. It’s better than he had ever hoped it to be during all those restless nights he spent telling himself that his infatuation with you would pass, that you deserved better than a bastard like him, that he should leave you alone. Now with everything that has happened between you and even though he knows it's wrong, he needs you so fucking bad… what he deserves be damned.  

You make him feel alive for the first time in years and fuck is that something that has him in it’s clutches.

Now he just has to figure out how to keep this up without detection. The lieutenant ponders the rest of the night until he is suddenly brought out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder. “Ya came back for…” he says as he turns with a smile on his exposed lips as if expecting you to be standing there only to be met with the masculine, stubble-covered face of his other sergeant, causing him to startle and rise to his feet, dropping his nearly finished cigarette as he scrambles to calculate a way to explain his statement.

“Came back?” Soap questions, his eyebrow raised curiously as a knowing smirk spreads across his mouth. “Nah, first time I been out ‘ere. Didn’t mean to scare ye, just ‘ere as yer relief. Seems yer a bit lost in yer head tonight LT. Were ye expectin’ someone else?”  

A quick clearing of his throat as the lieutenant stomps out the butt of his smoke and pulls down his mask to hide the surprise on his face. “No,” he says firmly, “just didn’t expect ya ta be so fuckin’ quiet. It’s not like ya ta not make noise.”

Soap eyes the lieutenant up and down, but doesn’t push his joking any further, even though he has the perfect opportunity to pick on his superior because even in the dim light outside he is sure that his shirt is on backwards. The look in the lieutenant’s eyes says it all, that he doesn’t want to be messed with, and the young sergeant decides it best to leave it alone by sending the lieutenant on his way with nothing more than a nod as he takes up the post.   

By the time Simon reaches the inside of the house, you are already fast asleep in your cot from what he can see in the darkness that fills the room. You have always caught his eye, but God, you look so fucking beautiful just in your natural state. He quickly surveys the room to be sure everyone is still out before he quietly and carefully steps up to your side on the way to his own bed. 

 With a light touch his fingertips gently brush over the loose hair near your ear to tuck it securely behind as he studies your calm and serene face. You don’t stir and he doesn’t want to wake you, so he creeps back over to lay down in his own cot, keeping his eyes focused on your form through the pitch black until sleep finally takes him as only one thought rolls through his mind.

Tomorrow evening can't come soon enough. 

The day goes off just as it should without a hitch, though the way the lieutenant has had to keep his distance from you has proved to be much more agonizing than he had hoped. So, as soon as everyone is asleep, he does not hesitate to join you near the end of your watch the same as the night before. The thrill of this new and exciting connection is the catalyst that pushes him to ignore any warnings in his mind to take this slow; he wants to be near you as much as he can as he realizes that he can’t deny what he wants if he is going to keep up appearances when the sun is out. 

Sitting in the spot that is becoming the usual meeting place, you are caught by surprise as his rough palm grazes the skin underneath your chin as he tilts it back to him while his other hand cradles the back of your head. His full lips are already exposed so that the moment your eyes meet he is already bowing his head to envelope your mouth entirely with his own so hard that the hair on his jaw pricks your face as his tongue slips in to taste you.

And the midnight world behind your closed eyelids explodes into fireworks.

Minutes pass without a care as his kisses take you away into a realm of pure bliss, the passion collapsing any reality outside of him and the microcosm his touch creates. In that timelessness wrapped in all of that euphoria he finally breaks away to rest his hand against your cheek, silently stroking it with the pad of his thumb as that piercing gaze follows the contours of each and every detail that comprises your face as if he wants to commit them all to memory. 

“What?” you ask quietly after a few seconds, curious about what he is thinking.

He shakes his head as he answers. “Nothin’,” he says quietly without stopping. “Just like lookin’ at ya is all.”  

Breathing becomes near impossible as the tug on the strings of your heart is enough to make you collapse. Who would have guessed that behind that rough exterior that the lieutenant dressed himself in day after day is a man whose heart is bigger than he lets on? It is clear from his kiss alone that he has been struggling all day to keep it together just as you have, but now that you are back together again all that evaporates into thin air.

Simon takes his place sitting wrapped around your body and the moment his hands brush against the bare skin of your arms, your breath catches in your chest and your pulse begins to race. The feeling of the heavy pounding he can sense through his palms and that excitement immediately floods his body, making his touch start to wander.

“You aren’t concerned about anyone catching us?” you ask as you lean into his chest. 

Simon shakes his head. “They can’t see anythin’ from this angle,” he reassures. “I gotcha, don’t worry; I just need ta feel ya again, pretty girl. But tell me ta fuckin’ stop and I will.”

Those strong fingers play cautiously around the waistband of your pants as he waits for your response. His body is beginning to vibrate with how instantaneous his need overtakes him as you are under his touch again. 

“Don’t stop,” you breathe. “Don’t ever fucking stop, Simon.”

You can feel his lips near your ear. “Open your legs for me,” he urges in a deep, guttural groan that makes the hair on your arms stand up as he uses both hands to undo your pants and slip inside them. 

Everything goes so fast after that: the way he has you moaning and panting like a dog in heat is almost too easy and before you can think your pants are off and he is desperately thrusting his aching cock inside you. It is becoming apparent that his appetite for you is insatiable and as you come you realize that this is going to be a delicious problem that you don’t want to find a solution to other than this.

“Just so ya know, pretty sure your pal Mactavish knows somethin’s up ‘tween us, though,” he chuckles as you finish fixing your clothes and sit back down facing him. 

You knew this was a possibility, especially after all the jokes he’s been making lately, but hearing it out loud just solidifies a worry you’ve had rummaging around in your head since the beginning of all this. The anxiety must be present on your face as Simon feels compelled to continue. 

“If he wanted to, he coulda done something about his suspicions long ‘fore now. Just wants ta be a little shit ‘bout it is all,” he says.

That’s not what concerns you the most; Johnny has never betrayed your trust before and you are mostly sure he wouldn’t now. No, getting caught doesn’t seem half as distressing as the thought that has you in its chokehold. You hold Simon’s gaze with worry in your eyes. “Does this mean we shouldn’t do this again? I mean… if Johnny suspects then that means something must have been a sign to give us away and any of them could pick up on it as well.”

“Is that what ya want?” he questions back as a lump forms in his throat that he desperately tries to swallow down. “Do ya want ta stop this?”

Simon knows this would be the best option, to call it before things get even more out of hand than they already are, but as he waits anxiously for your answer all he can think about is how much it’s gonna fucking hurt if you pull away from him now.

“See, that’s the problem,” you admit with hesitance as you divert your gaze, unable to look into his face; you can’t take this back once you say it aloud. The intensity of it all has you unsure of yourself, but there is something about Simon that causes you to be honest, even to a fault. 

“I don’t want to stop,” you sigh.

The instantaneous relief that immediately hits is overwhelming and unconsciously Simon’s hand reaches out to turn your face back to him. “Then I don’t either,” he confirms as the pad of his thumb strokes over the smooth skin until your features soften and he can finally steady his pounding heart again. “We’ll just have ta be careful is all. I’ve… wanted to be near ya for a long while now, even before Mactavish pulled me into his silly fuckin’ game, and it would fuckin’ tear me up to give it all up so soon.” 

He had thought about you before? It surprises you to learn that you weren’t the only one that was struggling with infatuation. “Really?” you ask.

Simon nods as he takes your hand in his. “Needed ya for so fuckin’ long, thought I was gonna lose my goddamn mind. It’s been hard tryin’ to keep my distance. Christ, I used ta get so fuckin’ worked up at seein’ other recruits askin’ ya out, thought I was gonna break one of ‘em cause I wanted that ta be me.”

“Well, you have to worry about that anymore,” you say as you watch him gently play with your fingers. “I never wanted any of them anyway; they weren’t worth the trouble.”

“Then what do ya want, hmm?” he asks, watching you closely.

You look up from your hands to his face. “You,” the answer just comes out effortlessly. 

That word, that one fucking simple ass word is the only thing he has ever needed to hear. From that moment on there isn’t a night that passes without him finding some way to see you, whether it be for minutes or hours, he does what he must to get to your side. Even if the days are long and rough, he is missing sleep to be with you however he can.

It isn’t just about the sex, though his need for you stays insatiable. Simon starts to talk with you about anything and everything: what’s on his mind, anecdotes from his past, funny things to make you laugh, and you find yourself sharing in turn as well. On nights when things are too risky to even touch you as he wants, he finds himself just content to sit and share the thoughts in his head. It’s so easy to talk to you that sometimes he finds himself feeling like you’ve always been this way and it catches him off-guard how right it seems.

Time on this mission passes quickly in your company and sooner than you realize it is time to return to base, another success under your belts. You’ve both built a strange routine on your time away that you bring with you back home, though you’ve yet to have the discussion of defining what this is. Honestly, you don’t feel the need to; you are committed to him and he seems committed to you and in your line of work where guarantees aren’t always an option, that is enough. 

The only problem in returning is now that you are back you’ve gotten closer to the source of danger and with every risk you take as you navigate how to keep this all up, there are more scrutinizing gazes around to take notice of the bond you’ve formed. You’ll have to be twice as sneaky, twice as vigilant, twice as cunning to make sure you aren’t found out. Ultimately, it is a small price to pay because the alternative does not even register. You both make the promise to each other to do what you can to keep up this charade of normalcy to try and not get caught; whatever you have to do to keep seeing each other like this.  

But there are also benefits to being back, like dreaming about how you can actually screw around in a bed instead of on the ground or in a dilapidated building, if only you can figure out how to get some alone time. From the moment you set foot on home soil it’s like everything and everyone is determined to keep you both too busy to find the time after a mission that could not have gone smoother. 

And of course you can’t forget that Johnny is going to organize a night out at the bar now that you have a bit of free time. It’s his second favorite pastime, the first being a nuisance. It is right after debriefing the day after your return that the scottish sergeant catches up to you to tell you the news and make sure that you are on board for the plan.

“Yer comin’ yeah?” he asks as he finishes giving you all the details about when the usual group is gonna take off later that night.

Goddammit, you curse internally. 

All you want to do is get a few measly hours with the man your heart pines for daily now, but that option is immediately crushed the moment Johnny utters the question. Of course you can’t say no, it’ll look suspicious to back out without any reason since you’ve never backed out of these sorts of things before. Simon loiters not a few feet away, having hoped he could capture you a moment just to steal a quick word and maybe a kiss, and you sneak a quick glance over at him, hoping he can read the apologetic expression in your eyes.

Your glance doesn’t seem to be subtle enough and Johnny follows the hastiness of your eye-line over to none other than the lieutenant who is standing at the end of your gaze. You hold your breath a second as you wait to see what he will say, but instead of making another snide, knowing joke at your expense, it’s like he only just now realized that he has left someone out of his plan and that won’t do. 

“Oi, LT, yer coming too, yeah?” he calls over to ask.

Soap’s timing might be terrible, but the idea of there being less people on base tonight might just play to the lieutenant’s favor. Perhaps after a bit of socializing you both can somehow slip away from the crowd and get some alone time together. It’s worth a try. 

“I guess,” Lt. Riley agrees, playing up the agitation in his voice to mask his true feelings.

Johnny turns his attention back to you. “See, even the lieutenant is coming. Are ye?”

You huff exasperatedly as you see from the corner of your vision Simon nod his head, giving you a sign to agree to go and it clicks. This might be a way to get near him again. “Fine, you got me. Who else is gonna keep you in check when alcohol is involved?” you pick as you sock your fist into his shoulder. “Can’t have you getting us banned from our favorite place over some bullshit.”

The bar is only fifteen minutes from the base, just close enough that you can all walk without having to drive; something that has saved your drunk asses on several occasions. You walk at the back of the group as thankfully Johnny is involved in a heated discussion with Gaz about something and is too busy to keep his eyes on you. Simon slips in close a few times to brush his knuckles against yours while shooting you hungry glances.  

You all settle into the routine of hanging at the local spot just as you always do; Johnny’s even wrangled a few others from base that weren’t on your recent team so that the tiny bar is packed with taskforce members. Everyone gets started on round one and then two, though you are able to keep nursing the one drink you ordered when you got here all night as you need to keep your wits while Simon is close.

A bit of laughter, a lot of conversation, and a couple of games of pool where you kick Johnny’s ass once he’s good and liquored up and the night is going fast. That’s when the lieutenant decides that he can’t take it anymore. You have both allotted enough of your night here that it wouldn’t look suspicious to head out and he decides it’s time; he wants to get you alone and if he doesn’t act soon the night will be over. Getting up from his seat he makes his move over to the wall where you are putting up your pool cue before you head back to the table with the rest of your teammates. He is at your side in no time and you nearly bump into him as you turn around, but he catches you so you don’t fall.

Simon leans in close against the side of your head and lowers his voice into a gruff whisper; he has to make this quick. “Ya wanna get outta ‘ere?”

Never have you agreed to something so fast before that you don’t even have to think about it; quickly you nod. 

“Meet me outside in ten, I’ll be waitin’,” he continues before pulling away expeditiously, hoping the interaction is brief enough that no one has seen. Your eyes dart down to your watch to catch the time so that not a second will be wasted, wanting to follow his directions to the letter. 

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you watch the lieutenant walk back to the table, finish off his scotch, and grumble his quick goodbyes before stalking towards the door and out into the night air. Each second that the clock ticks away takes what feels like an eternity and it is agony waiting for the last bit to pass so that you make your excuses to leave. 

The second hand finally hits the tenth minute mark and you immediately jump into making your excuse that you’re just really tired all of a sudden and need to head out before the alcohol makes you trip over yourself. It takes you a minute to placate the group, the lie seems flimsy at best, but  when you do you dart for the door before you can get pulled into any more conversations. 

Once outside you find Simon patiently standing there propped against the brick of the building near the corner where he is cloaked in shadow, taking a long drag from an almost finished cigarette that he holds in between his long fingers. The faint orange light glowing from the tip dances across the lower half of his exposed face to get caught in his eyes, making him look animalistic in the low light of the parking lot.

That autumn gaze pops up as he hears the approach of footsteps and he instantly flicks away the butt of his cig before you make it to him and he can immediately pull you close.

“Hope you weren’t havin’ too much fun back there,” he says with a nervous chuckle, “but it …uh… was gettin’ hard to sit there with ya so close and not be able to fuckin’ touch what I want. Couldn’t wait anymore.” 

“Likewise,” you agree. “I was ready to go.”

He can feel the way you tremble in his grasp as your eyes keep falling back to the area of his lips; it’s been a few days, you must be dying for them again just as much as he is dying for yours. Being under your relentlessly intimate gaze again has him growing hot and hungry and throwing caution to the wind he cannot hold back until you are completely safe.

“Come ‘ere,” he says as he pulls you by the belt until your body is flush against him. “Jus’ a quick one ‘fore someone sees.”

Not wasting a second he urgently leans his head down to meet your lips and take them with force and in a flash he is reeling through the overwhelming beast of his desire, not wanting to let go even to leave this unprotected spot. The strength it takes to break the magnetism causes his body to shudder, but eventually he is able to pry his lips away long enough so that he can break their charm. 

“Let’s get back to mine quick, yeah?” he struggles to ask against your lips as he is suddenly out of breath. “Don’t think they’ll miss us now and I’m done wastin’ time. Need ta take this opportunity ta spend some alone time with ya.”  

How could you say no to that? You aren’t about to pass up on a chance to be with Simon. Even though you don’t know how long you have, any amount of time is enough and you will make the most of it. “Let’s go,” you say and like that you both take off into the night.  

His hands stay plastered to your body the entire walk back, the forbidden nature of your endeavor to get onto base and into his quarters undetected making you both excited to the point of disorientation as pulses begin to race violently. The closer you get the more warm your cheeks become as sensitive nerve endings spark to life across your limbs and a familiar heat gathers between your thighs.

Hurriedly Simon opens the door and pulls you into the confines of his dimly lit room, the door quickly closing behind you both with a quiet latch. No sooner has the door shut than he is on you, crushing you in between him and the door as his mouth can’t stand being separated from yours anymore. 

“Goddammit, I just can’t fuckin’ leave ya be,” he breathes against your parted lips as he pulls your hip in tighter to him until he is sure you can feel the bulge forming in the crotch of his jeans. A pulsing meets your thigh as he rotates until you can feel that thick appendage prod into the muscle. “Ya feel how hard I am already, yeah? That’s what ya do to me, luv. Got me actin’ like I’m fuckin’ young again, excited ‘nd horny all the goddamn time.”

His hands now grasping at your shirt take hold and pull the scant article up over your head to toss to the floor. Your hands immediately move to his pants as he takes off his shirt to throw it next to yours; you have to remove any barrier between your bodies. In a flurry of lips and limbs you find yourselves naked as Simon pulls you to his bed ready to devour you… only instead of lust being the only emotion he feels, there is something else there.

In the quiet of his room the tension permeates the space like a heavy fog as he sits down on the soft surface of his mattress and pulls you on top of his lap. As skin is pinned to bare skin he is overcome with emotion and his hands begin to caress your body with such admiration as if you are made of something sacred. Walls he’s built up to keep everyone out have been dissolving since you were thrust into his life and now all of that comes to a head in this moment as he has to come to terms with how much he really cares for you.

There is a void inside of him that only you can fill. 

Those rough hands run up the length of your spine so tenderly, flat palms gliding over the curve of your smooth, exposed skin as he peers up into your face with clear intention. The way his eyes sparkle in the low light as he looks at you, his stare full of something more than just lust, makes your heart pound wildly in your chest. 

What is happening? You can feel the shift in the air as the passion you both have towards each other morphs into something cosmic in its intensity and suddenly you can’t breathe. It is overwhelming to be looked at like this, as if he would burn everything to the fucking ground and salt the earth just to have you, but you don’t want him to stop.

For so fucking long he has been waiting for something he never thought he would get to have. Yet the moment you touched him everything changed; you have broken him out of that state of being nothing more than a stoic statue, a man hardened by life so that he never let anything break past the barriers he erected, but suddenly that vicious cycle of wanting and never getting is finally over. And you did it all without ever even knowing it. 

Now the future actually feels like something he could look forward to, as long as you are in it.

“What?” you ask as his silent autumn gaze drifts over your body before it returns to your face.

“I hope ya know that you’re all I fuckin’ want,” he says with conviction as he leans up into you while grabbing your hips tightly so that he can flip you over onto your back, his body weight crushing you into the springs of the mattress. “That goddamn kiss did me in and I ain’t ever comin’ back. You belong ta me, ya hear? I don’t care ‘bout nothin’ else.”

“I’m all yours Simon,” you reassure with confidence. “And you are mine.”

Fiery kisses assault your mouth in desperate fashion, aggressively capturing your lips as if he hasn’t seen you in weeks as his fingers trace burning lines down your abdomen and over the curve of your hips. Pupils dilate and breaths hitch as nerve endings explode to life until you are bucking and writhing against his touch.

Your fingertips graze across the bulky muscles of his abdomen, dancing over the sparse covering of hair that leads down his V line to his pelvis and the sound of him trying to gulp down air to fill his lungs as his breath gets caught in his throat matches your own desperate sounds.

Fuck your touch sets him on fire more than it ever has and with a growl he moves down your body hastily as a new impulse takes control: to strap you to his face and suffocate. You barely have time to react as he reaches his destination at the end of the bed and lays himself flat on the mattress, his head moving in between your legs without hesitation. The hair on his chin pricks the delicate skin of your inner thighs to force you to whine as he uses his first two fingers to open you up so that he can nestle the tip of his tongue between your petals. 

His tongue drags up the length of your slit to collect that first bit of sweet juice to bloom along his taste buds before he reaches your aching clit where he teases feathery light circles around it to make you squirm before he thrust the pad up against it. There he begins to stroke with vigorous movements that are spurred on by the beautiful music he is causing you to make.  

So soft, so wet, so warm, why is this the first time he’s eaten you out? He has been denying himself of all this for what? Simon can hardly breathe, but he has never felt more alive.

Your vision blurs as you clamp your eyes shut, your head falling back while a back-arching vibration of pleasure throbs through your clit and you bite your bottom lip hard, trying to remember how to intake air through the haze caused by the intensity of his pace as with every press and movement from his tongue draws you closer to that razors edge.

Steadily that pressure continues to build as he takes the cues from your body on exactly how to tongue-fuck you into your orgasm. Sucking and licking, each stroke feverish, but effective. Nothing exists in the entire world outside of this bed: not consequences or repercussions that could come from getting caught, not reprimands or disciplinary actions that could lead to the ruination of both your careers. The ecstasy of you is worth all the goddamn bullshit you both may face for being together.

He desires you to the point of obsession and you crave him just as terribly.

Your honey coats his face, clinging to his cheeks and through the stubble on his jaw as his desire to fill your pussy with his cock takes hold, consuming him to the brink of insanity so that he is forced to rip his face out from within you. “Sorry, not done; need ta be inside ya,” he groans, needy and out of breath. “Want us to come togetha. You an me, sweetheart.”

“Yes, yes, together” you moan incoherently as you grip the sheets in your fists to steady yourself for what’s to come.

Sliding between your legs he positions himself on his knees and throws your ankles up onto his shoulders as he has to get as deep as he fucking can. He can see the glistening from between your lips and he knows you’re ready for him; there is no hesitation once he has you situated and with a strong thrust he is fully inside of you down to the very base of his cock.

Your hands rip from the covers and your fingernails dig into the muscles along his shoulder blades as you cry out while your body adjusts to his girth, each twitch as it throbs inside you pulsing against your g spot in the best way. Simon hisses as he struggles to collect himself as he bottoms out; he’s had you countless times at this point, but every single time the sensation your body produces is enough to make him see God.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he murmurs as he regains his composure enough to start slowly thrusting in and out, hips rolling over yours with a need that only grows. “Ya always have been. Fuck… I can’t believe how lucky I am ta get ta have ya ‘ere all to myself.” 

Each snap of his hips that shoves his cock deeper and deeper into you is a physical reminder that you are his, that you belong to him, and each buck of your body is a response that says claim me forever.  He wants to possess every single last centimeter of you, steal away all your sanity until there is nothing left of you except for him, and so he desperately grinds harder and harder to try and fill you full enough.

His thick abs contract and release with each thrust as he looks down on you, admiring the bright flush in your cheeks from his passionate movements. Each movement makes him strain harder and harder until his torso is coated in a thin, glistening layer of perspiration and yours is right there with him.

“Come on, baby,” he guides you through it, “I need ya to finish with me. I’m so fuckin’ close.”

Right there. It’s right fucking there; the precipice inching within reach with each stroke as your body readies itself to take the plunge. That warmth gathering at the base of your spine grows stronger causing your brows to knot together as your toes curl.

“Close,” you whimper. 

He’s almost there. “That’s it, sweetheart, just let go for me,” he praises as he reaches down between your bodies so that his fingers can stroke over your clit as he strains to keep himself from coming by digging his fingertips into your hip. 

A few more strokes as his fingers and cock work in tandem and the overwhelming sensation is enough to cause that deep ache finally find its remedy and your orgasm pops off, shooting through you like magma until your limbs go numb. Through your cries he picks up the pace and finally the warmth that had been building shoots through his body as he rips his cock out of you and buries it in the mattress underneath you as he milks himself dry.

Simon’s head hangs slack against your calves as his unsteady breath slowly returns to a tolerable rhythm before he removes your legs from his shoulders and rolls over onto the bed beside you, situating himself propped up on his pillow before pulling you closer to rest against his chest so that he can feel your pulse through his torso. You wrap your arm around his waist and hold on as you both simply breath until you have it under control.

Silently you bask in the glow of your euphoria as he holds you close, enjoying your presence in the place Simon’s never brought another person before. It’s a surreal experience to allow someone in so easily, but with you there is no other choice. He is lost in that thought until he notices how you begin to slump against him and he looks down to see you struggling to keep yourself awake. 

“I better go before I fall asleep,” you say softly as your tired eyes flutter to try and stay open as the exhaustion lulls you steadily towards slumber. “Don’t wanna get caught leaving in case anyone decides to head back early.”

His arms tethering you to his chest stay locked tightly around you. It is a terrible fucking idea and he knows it, but that stoic lieutenant cannot deny himself of what he wants, not tonight; he doesn’t want you to leave him alone again. 

“No,” he says with a hushed firmness in his tone. “Stay.”

Lifting your head up off his body, you turn your gaze up to look into his face. “You sure?” you ask skeptically as the palpitations of your heartbeat flood your ears. 

Surely he’s just taking the piss, right? You haven’t forgotten the promise you both made to be extra cautious and yet…you have to admit that you desperately want to stay.   

Simon’s opposite arm resting at his side moves across his bare torso until his hand can find and pick up the one you have lying against his chest. Silently he slips his fingers through the spaces in between your own, interlocking them together before he rests them back against his warm skin. It is a gesture that says all he needs it to say without having to utter a single word: he’s not going to let you go.

“They’ll be too fuckin’ hungover tomorrow to notice ya aren’t in your bed,” he murmurs into the dark. “You’re already tired, just stay ‘ere tonight.”

You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t stop what your heart wants and your worn out mind agrees. As you settle back down against him he brings his hand up to comb his fingers gently through your hair in a lazy, repetitious pattern until you are putty in his hands. 

What the fuck am I doin’? he thinks to himself as you lay in the crook of his arm slowly falling asleep to the sound of his calm and metered heartbeat. From the moment he finally had that first taste of you it is like everything has been turned on its head: priorities he once held as important are now shifting and thoughts he never imagined he’d have about someone suddenly seem closer than they have ever been.

He’s never allowed himself to get this close to anyone, never wanting to let another in enough to know him more than surface level, but with you it just seems so effortless. Now all he wants is to keep you around more permanently so that he can fall asleep lying next to you more nights. Everything is so clear when you are close and he doesn’t want to let it go; that both thrills and terrifies him. 

Though he cannot admit it to himself yet, not even to think of the word, he knows that he is falling hard and for the first time in a long while he is happy.

In this line of work, though, things can go south in an instant and if you don’t stay on your toes you can fall. And unfortunately things are about to come crashing down hard.

Those same pair of eyes that had been watching you both from the window of the safehouse are now glaring with rage at the lieutenant’s door as their owner’s blood boils over. The man watched you both leave the bar in a hurry, snuck out and caught you both kissing outside, followed you back to base and watched as you immediately headed for the lieutenant’s quarters, and now they are watching as you don’t seem to be leaving anytime soon and he is done.

Enough is fucking enough; he can’t take it anymore. The man wouldn’t feel so scorned by these actions if you had not previously turned him down when he had made his advances, citing that as flattered as you were that it wasn’t smart to get involved with anyone on the taskforce. “Would be inappropriate” you cited as the only reason you had to say no.  

And yet here you are sneaking around with the lieutenant like it’s nothing. 

No, if he couldn’t even be given a chance with you due to propriety, then why should your masked superior be given special treatment? He decides at that moment that he isn’t going to turn a blind eye anymore to this bullshit and immediately he turns heel to head in the direction of the officers building, hoping to catch the one person he knows can set this right. 

Captain Price sits behind the desk in his office even though it is late, obliviously absorbed in his work until he hears the repetitious knocks of someone standing at his open door followed by a familiar voice that draws his attention. A man stands there waiting for his admittance inside.

“Captain Price, sir,” the man addresses him formally. “I apologize for the late hour, I know you’re busy, but I need to speak with you.”

Price is intrigued by the urgency in his subordinate’s tone, it makes this impromptu visit seem vital that they speak. Knowing things around here it is most likely a problem that isn’t as bad as it seems and he nods for the man to come in, but he doesn’t move from his spot. “In private sir,” he insists.

“Shut the door,” Price agrees to the confidentiality and the soldier makes sure the door is secure before he comes to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Price waits until he is situated before pushing further as to what exactly has brought the soldier here. “Now, what’s this about then? Let’s get on with it.”

The soldier nods and starts talking. “I have some information that I think you will want to know about, sir. About rules that are being broken around here without your knowledge.”

“What sort of rules?” he asks, raising a bushy brow as he leans back in his chair; the soldier has his full attention now.

He has to tell; it isn’t right. No matter what the lieutenant has threatened to do to him if he says anything, he will not let this slide a minute more. “Misconduct between the lieutenant and your female sergeant and them engaging in an inappropriate relationship,” the private says, irately. “In fact, this isn’t the first time I’ve caught them either. And I know where they are right now.”

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[cheriecelestial]

Angel Pt.1

pairing*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ Red Hood!Jason Todd X fem!reader

disclaimer*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ fluff. slight suggestive content (?). swearing. canon typical violence. kinda long. not proofread !

a/n*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ based on that one prompt “Wow ! You’ve grown so much since I last babysat you” “I want to rail you so bad”. Reader is like 26 and Jason is 19-20. Set in the WFA verse + joyfire are a team. Kinda non canon complacent. Smut in part II

Part II

Under the nocturnal skyline of Gotham perched on a towering building was the vigilante anti- hero Red Hood watching, observing the city like a hunter stalking its next prey. His jacket whipped against the wind of the boisterous and animated city. He closed his eyes and listened to song of wailing sirens and the distant cries of people, ready to respond to the city's calls for help.

Gotham was a city that, much like its vigilantes, thrived in the night. The city was hued in the rapturous and vivacious of the nightlife. Neon signs flickered casting flashes of colours across the pavements of the night clubs. People scattered across the pavements like ants, some making their way home from a tiring day of work, others more aimless and leisure - their destinations less defined and indulgent. He pulled out his grapple hook gun and shot to a building a few blocks away from where his bike was parked.

In the shadowed alleyways, Red Hood felt a sinister presence stir. He kept walking without letting them know that he noticed their presence. By the footsteps, he could tell six no.. seven. Four of medium build and three a bit more burly. Judging by their lack of ability to mask their footsteps, he could guess they're amateurs. Well in all honesty, almost everyone was an amateur compared to him. Slowing his pace, Red Hood's hands instinctively moved to his holster, anticipating a potential confrontation. Nothing beat the thrill of beating up bad guys. However, amid the approaching group, he discerned another set of footsteps — urgent, lighter, tinged with fear, and most importantly heading directly toward him.

He felt someone clutch the lapel of his jacket desperately. "You're a vigilante, aren't you ? Please help me sir. I think there are bad people following me." Red Hood looked to his side and saw a woman much shorter than him and shaking like a leaf in wind. His breath caught in his throat as he stared at her. It had been almost a decade since he had gazed into those warm large eyes—a fragment of his childhood that he had long relegated to oblivion. Jason Todd had what most would call a troubled childhood. Abandoned by his birth mother and the only other one he had dead from drug abuse and an even worse father who died the hands of Two Face. Tossed through the foster system, he eventually found himself on the unforgiving streets of Gotham. Amid the darkest moments of his youth, one saving grace remained —his angel,Y/N L/N. One he completely forgot about when he assumed the mantle of Robin.

"Help me please." She implored, her voice trembling and on the verge of breaking - the same one who would calm his raging storm on bad nights and tell him that he was going to be okay, and in the moment he swore he was. Her gaze shifted between the men and the vigilante, moving closer to him without realizing to shield herself from the villains in the shadows. Almost as if in a trance, he raised his gloved hand to caress her cheek as if to check if she was real or not. "Just follow my lead." He spoke in a low tone and the woman nodded frantically. His hand encircled her wrist and he started running, dragging her behind him the second he heard the thugs charge. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't think twice before starting a fight and having it his way. But he couldn't bear endangering her in the slightest so getting her to safety was the only viable option.

Her breath came in rapid gasps, and beads of sweat glistened on side of her forehead as they navigated the maze of alleyways in their path. The flickering glow of distant streetlights created fleeting glimpses of their pursuers. Her heart pounded in her chest like the strumming of a frantic drum as adrenaline pumped poisoned her veins. Jason noticed that she couldn't run fast enough to outrun the thugs with her stamina. "Sorry about what I'm about to do”,he warned in a hushed whisper and without hesitation, he lifted her over his shoulder and began running. Y/N gasped, clutching onto the vigilante for dear life. Wind ruffled her hair as she watched the vigilante leave behind their pursuers effortlessly. "You know if this vigilante thing doesn't work out you could try out for the Olympics." She muttered not realizing she said it out loud. Red Hood let out a gruff laugh, "I could but I like beating up bad guys and saving people such as yourself just a tad bit more angel." Y/N blushed at the nickname but waved it off as commonplace banter.

He set her down next to his bike. And took off his chocolate coloured jacket and draped it around her shoulders. "How could I ever thank you?" The h/c haired woman smiled at him with a smile so infectious that the corners of Jason's lips curled up without his realising under his mask. "Don't thank me just yet princess. They aren't near done." Y/N blinked in confusion and followed Red Hood's line of sight where she saw three black cars racing towards them. Her features morphed from relief to horror and alarm in the blink of an eye.The vigilante revved his bike and looked at her,"What are you waiting for?" The woman looks at the approaching cars and back at the vigilante, contemplating her options and got on the back of his bike. His hand envelops her and plants it onto his waist as if silently asking her to hold onto him. Y/N flinches at the contact as it she touched something really hot and retracted her hand.

The masked vigilante plucks a helmet out of the saddlebag and strapped it on her head."You might want to hold on angel." Y/N hums in acknowledgment and holds the grab handle behind the seat. Jason rolled his eyes at her refusal to hold onto him and revves the engine making her lurch forward and crash into his back. Realising that doing this any other way apart from his was futile, Y/N timidly encircled her arms around his waist.

The vibrations of the engine shook her whole being as he raced down the streets. The streets, trees, people blurred in her peripheral vision and she started feeling light-headed. Gathering all the morsels of courage she could find, she looked behind her to see the thugs chasing them. They hadn't lost the three cars and things just got worse when she saw a man peek his head out of the window with a fun in his hand. I'm so dying today. She clasped her hands tighter around him and pressed her face against his rigid muscular back in fear.

Sensing her unease, he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her infront of him. Y/N let out a yelp from the suddenness of the contact.

"What are you -"

"You don’t want your back facing them when they start shooting soon." Y/N looked over his shoulder to the thugs and then sunk back into and then sank back against his chest.

"You know if it makes you feel better just know this is an average Tuesday for me." Y/N blinked at him incredulously and in a small voice muttered,"It's Thursday today." A nonchalant shrug was all the answer he decided to give her. How the hell does he manage to remain calm through it? I'm on the verge of a panic attack and he's swerving as if this is a joyride in his kingdom. And in that moment if someone said that he was the king of Gotham, Y/N would find it hard to refute it.

The bike picked up speed causing the h/c haired woman to crash against his chest harshly. It was as if the pressure of the wind glued her against him. To calm herself, she decided to try concentrating elsewhere. Absentmindedly trailing the ridges of his armour and the red bat symbol on his chest. She heard whispers and rumours about Red Hood, the prince of crime, the scourge of the underworld—an outlaw employing more lethal methods against crime than Batman. Despite initial conflicts with Batman, he was acknowledged as a Bat vigilante some time ago. This man was dangerous and unpredictable then why did he feel so familiar to her ?

“I know I have god-tier pectoral muscles but I’d appreciate if you stopped distracting me like that.” Red Hood quipped, sounding almost smug at her fascination. Heat rushed into her cheeks and she quickly withdrew her hand, realising how inappropriate that must’ve felt and hastily clarified,“ I’m so sorry, I’m not a pervert I swear.” Y/N felt his chest rumble with a chuckle.

“Hold on.” Red Hood skidded the bike across the road with a loud screech, making Y/N wince at the sound of the metal scratching against the gravel. He loaded his gun with one hand still wrapped around Y/N protectively and aimed at the tires of the approaching car. “I’d suggest for you to not look at it.”Y/N averted her gaze and moments later, she heard a series of crashes and explosions.

“Jesus Christ I thought I was going to die !” She exhaled in relief. Red Hood turned his face towards her slowly and looked at her as if deadpanning through the mask,“ I’m here you know. What makes you think I’d let you die ?” He retorted taking full offence of her words. “I- I didn’t mean it like that -” she stammered, partly scared to offend the vigilante.

"Whatever I'll drop you off." Jason rolled his eyes and patted the seat behind him. Y/N hesitated, remembering her mother's warning about getting on bikes with strange men, but given her current situation, she realized it was too late to dwell on that now. With no one pursuing them, the ride felt much more pleasant. The speed and the wind against her hair seemed to turn her blood to gasoline as the air dissipated from her lungs. Adrenaline fueled activities weren't for her, at least that's what her sense of self preservation told her. Y/ N pressed her cheek against Red Hood's back. Vigilantes had a symbiotic relationship with the city and as was a common saying in Gotham "The less bats you run into the happier your life is." She knew that this encounter might be a fleeting one, so she decided to relish the moment for now.

Feelings and thoughts were long forgotten, where everything faded into the background and only her physical self exists and the dancing lights at the hazy edges of her vision offered an intoxicating taste of freedom that was indescribable — stripped of obligations, responsibilities and consequences.

Y/N almost doesn’t notice when he stopped the bike. “Do you plan on holding onto me for long ? Not that I mind but we’re here.” Red Hood hopped off the bike and Y/N took off her helmet and hung it onto the handlebar. She scanned her surroundings, they were in front of a five star hotel with sports cars parked on either side of of the road. “Why are we here ?” The woman asked following behind the masked vigilante. “Well for one I don’t know your address so I can’t drop you home and second it’s too late so you should stay the night at a hotel and go home in the morning. It’s safer that way.” Y/N stared at him in disbelief,“ But I don’t have the kind of money to rent a room in a place like this.” Red Hood retrieved a key card from his pocket and placed it on her palm,“Who said anything about paying ?” The h/c haired took it reluctantly and slowly walked to the entrance of the hotel, looking back at him again and again. It wasn’t until she was inside the hotel that she saw him drive off. Y/N walked to the concierge desk and showed her the card. The receptionist eyed her with suspicion considering how she looked so out of place compared to her opulent setting. “Please fill this form. It’s for security purposes.”

The form asked things like her address and her phone number. As reluctant as she was, the receptionist looked like she wasn’t letting her through unless she filled it. Wary of the dangers of misuse of information, Y/N tried to keep her responses as brief as possible. Paranoia was the best friend of a Gothamite considering everything that went down in this hellhole. It was good to always assume the worse and subsequently prepare for it.

The receptionist offered her a tight smile and walked her to the suite. Calling it a suite was an understatement since it was the penthouse on top of the hotel. Just how rich is this guy ? Y/N assumed that the house was a property he didn’t live in because the place lacked personal touch. Either that or he was a real minimalist which was unlikely considering bat vigilantes’ love for theatrics. Y/N wondered if all the bat vigilantes were like a huge family with Batman as papa bat. Where would Red Hood fall in the hierarchy ? If she were to guess, she’d say he was probably the black sheep of the family. Y/N looked around the house, it was one straight out of architectural digests with its high ceilings and cool grey and white interior. She looked at the time and decided it was best if she hit the shower and go to bed and finally put an end to this crazy day.

Jason Todd checked into the hotel the next morning and was greeted by the overly friendly receptionist, personally he didn’t mind fangirls but anyone with even half a braincell knew the risks of being a vigilante groupie. She passed him the form that Y/N filled. He couldn’t help but smile at the form. Filling her work address and a phone number both which were most likely false give the conspicuous number of 7’s in the number ? She’s smarter than most civilians, he’d give her that. The penthouse looked almost unhampered with. His jacket was neatly folded on the dining table with a note reading “Thank you so much for saving me. Regards.” The tone of the note was clear ‘I appreciate you saving me but I hope we never meet again.’ Jason pocketed the note and left the penthouse. Fates had been kind enough to reunite him with his angel and he’d be damned if he let her get away .

“Yoohoo Y/N to earth. Anybody home ?”Y/N’s coworker snapped her fingers in front her face, snapping her out of her reverie. “Sorry about that Steph.” Y/N apologised with an awkward laugh. Stephanie Brown, albeit several years younger, was one of Y/N’s closest friends. She was a bubbly and cheerful soul anyone could tell that by the first impression she projected.

Since the night almost a week ago with the mysterious vigilante, Y/N often found her thoughts plagued by him. Curiosity of where he would be or what he would be doing right now. Her eyes often looked for any news of him while watching the news. I really have to stop thinking about him, even though they lived in the same city, the odds of them running into each other were minute.

The door opened and the bell on top of it clanged, announcing the arrival of a customer. “Mornin’ ladies.” The customer greeted. Y/N turned her attention at the newcomer at the counter. “Good morning detective !” she greeted the customer with a bright smile.

Dick Grayson served as a police officer under the GCPD and was one of the cafe’s frequents. From experiences of her own childhood, Y/N consider the police nothing but corrupt individuals on payroll of powerful people who bullied those weaker than them. But detective Grayson was one of the good and honest ones. He played a massive role in restoring Y/N’s faith that there were those in the police force who could be relied upon and ones that fought for a better Gotham.

"I'll go with the..." he glanced at the menu, a ritual he often performed. "the regular?" Y/N finished his sentence. He responded with a smile, revealing his dimples. "I never understand why you bother with the menu when you always order the same thing," she remarked. He shrugged nonchalantly, as if saying 'who knows.' A smile crept onto her face as she made his order.

“So how’s everything with the family ?” Y/N asked, making small talk. Beyond his consistent ordering and punctual 9:00 AM café visits, he frequently shared his sibling issues. "Oh, where do I begin? My brother is acting up, yet again. He pulled some crap about a week ago. He broke one of Dad’s rules, even though he said he did it to help someone but Dad was just not having it."

“ Which one ? The cool rebellious one or the little gremlin one ?” Y/N laughed sympathetically. She didn’t feel the need to probe and ask much but she always lent an ear to a friend so naturally she knew them by characteristics and not by name. From what she knew, Dick Grayson had three younger brothers - the broody rebellious one, the caffein addict smartass and the 4 foot gremlin edgelord from hell.

“The rebellious one.” he sighed wearily. Y/N placed his order on the counter, including a small pack of cookies. “On the house. You could use some sugar anyway. They’re free testers before we put them on the menu.” Dick accepted the coffee and cookie packet, flashing a bright smile. “Thank you so much. You’re an angel.” An odd feeling resonated within her when Dick called her that. That’s what Red Hood called her. Somehow the way the word rolled off his tongue seemed so different compared to when anyone else said it.

“Hey Dick do you mind if I ask you something ?” Dick nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “What do you know about the Red Hood ?”

Dick choked on his drink and burst into a fit of coughs. It took him a while to compose himself. “He’s alright. I mean he does help the GCPD I guess but he’s too unpredictable and we don’t exactly approve of his methods. He doesn’t hurt innocents but he’s bad news. Why do you ask ?”

“No reason.”Y/N brushed off the inquiry, and although Dick seemed skeptical, he left after leaving a tip. There. Is your curiosity satiated ? Even Dick said he’s bad news now can we stop thinking about him ? Her inner conscience reprimanded her.

Y/N's weary steps echoed in the quiet street as she walked home from work at night. The flickering light from the street lights streetlights casted long almost sentient looking shadows. Her thoughts — a mix of the day's challenges, the longing for the comfort of home blurred into oblivion when a strange chill crept up her spine with a sense of foreboding. Cautious of her surroundings, Y/N constantly kept watch around herself. Just a few yards before her apartment building, she heard their neighbourhood strays agitatedly hiss to something near the dumpster. Not wanting to get involved in whatever trouble Gotham had brought to her feet, she fastened her pace. Suddenly, a flash of vibrant red —the same shade she had been secretly craving to see in the past week, caught her eye.

“Red Hood ?” Y/N stepped into the shadows cautiously as if ready to flee at the first signs of trouble.

“Angel ?” He asked gruffly. Y/N walked closer and found him against the wall, clutching his side. His wound wasn’t a death sentence but needed to be tended to quickly. Her eyes widened in horror when she noticed the crimson coating his fingers,“You’re hurt !”

“ ‘Tis but a scratch m’lady.” He let out a pained laugh seeming to ease her nerves. “We need to get that treated.” Y/N urged. She knew that vigilantes couldn’t just walked into hospitals to get patched up because of the whole secret identity thing. And she also knew that taking it upon herself to treat him would go against every plan of self preservation she had. But she owed him his life. I’ll pay off my debt and we’ll never meet again. Y/N mentally decided and looked at him with newfound determination in her eyes. “My apartment is just upstairs. I have a first aid kit. Come with me.”

Red Hood gazed at her, momentarily lost in thought, then lifted his other hand to gently stroke her cheek. Y/N flinched at his touch, making him withdraw his hand. “Sorry I thought I was hallucinating you because from the blood loss. ” He admitted meekly. Y/N sighed and placed his hand over her shoulder. “Can you stand?” The masked vigilante nodded, rising slowly with a grunt.

Swallowing her rising concern, she brought him to her house and beckoned him towards her couch. Red Hood’s every step betrayed a hint of discomfort, his grimace almost visible even behind that signature mask. The second he dropped on her couch, she disappeared. He caught flashes of her running around the house like a busy bee at work. In seconds, she produced a first-aid kit and knelt next to him. “Lift your shirt.” She maintained her clinical tone, but the concern was evident with her eyes trained on the wound.

“Angel you know if you wanted to –” Jason started with a cheeky tone but was cut off by a stern glare, “Ahem yes ma’am”

Y/N breath hitched every so slightly when she saw the injury. It didn’t look like a bullet wound, the malformed spindle shape resembled a stab wound. “I’m sorry I don’t have any anaesthetic.” She didn’t look up from the wound as her cotton swab glided over the grevions injury. Shifting her elbow to his other hand on his thigh, Red Hood tilted his head seemingly questioning her,“ You can hold my arm and squeeze it if it hurts. I’ve heard that helps.”

“Appreciate the gesture angel but I’m pretty sure I’d snap your arm in half if I did.” His tone was both dismissive and endearing. Y/N didn’t insist, given his strength what he said was probably true. Vigilantes were exceptionally trained, surpassing conventional human limits. Unlike the caped metahuman from Metropolis, the bat vigilantes were more cryptid in nature. None would be where they came from and where they went. Invulnerable and insurmountable. Despite him being in a position that would render others vulnerable, he appeared unfazed, akin to a wounded yet formidable beast. There was a natural aura of dominance and power about him. They don’t call him the Prince of Gotham for no reason that’s for sure.

“You’re good at this. Like one of the best I’ve seen.” He spoke up, seemingly trying to come off as capable of being civil. “Well three years of med school. Some stitching is the least I can do.” She explained. Red Hood visible froze for a good second and inquired,“ You’re a doctor ?”

Y/N scoffed,“ Look around. Do I look like one ?” Red Hood looked around her apartment. Although well maintained, an ode to her efforts, the apartment was old and almost pitiful . Most of the furniture looked second hand and cheap. The curtain rods were rusted and the paint was peeling off from the walls with damp spots on the ceilings.

“You dropped out ?” He guessed. “Yeah. Couldn’t afford it.” She chuckled bitterly.

“Didn’t they offer scholarships or something ?” Jason was aware of Wayne Enterprises’ scholarship programs for talented students. When Bruce took him in, he assured Jason that if Y/N met the criteria, she would be enrolled in the program. Y/N’s intellect had always impressed Jason since childhood, he remembered that she would often sneak into libraries and memorise books worth of stories to recite them to Jason to help him sleep. There was just no way she wouldn’t be accepted into the program.

“They did but that didn’t pay bills. I needed to find a job to pay for my mom’s hospital bills.” She kept her response short, clearly not wanting to delve deep into the topic. “Work for me.” The statement was like a whiplash for Y/N. Work for him ? There weren’t many things Y/N had to take a double take for but this proposition was entirely unexpected. It caught her off guard, she stared at him incredulously with widened eyes. Red Hood was know for operating in the gray areas between legality and criminality and wasn’t exactly your quintessential example of a righteous lawful hero.

“Not in the way you’re imagining.” He hooked his free hand under her chin, gently closing her agape mouth. His tone was soft and reassuring,“ I’ve been meaning to find a backstreet surgeon to stitch me up. Comes in handy for a guy like me. I’m sure you understand angel.”

“B-but why me ?”Y/N stuttered, avoiding eye contact as her nerves threatened to overwhelm her. She could feel a chill of nervousness and panic creep up her spine. What if he got angry if she refused ? Jason noticed the change in the air around her and the stiffening of her muscles in panic that she was clearly trying to hide from him.

“Because you’re convenient. Your place is easy to get in and out of undetected, you’re talented and most of all —“ He gently lifted her chin to meet his gaze. Y/N let out a shuddered breath as Red Hood stroked her cheek with the back of his gloved hand. “— you fear me enough to not go around squeaking to the wrong people about me. No ?” Jason couldn’t help but relish in the reaction he elicited to the feeling of the leather gliding against her cheek in a silken featherlight touch. How adorable.

Y/N swallowed nervously before nodding slowly. A beat of silence passed and she let out a small sigh, recollecting herself and weighing her options. “How much are we talking ?” She asked him in a low voice. Jason could hardly contain his excitement, grinning wildly under his mask. A sense of pride washed over him as her first question after his offer focused on the financial aspect.

“Let’s see how about 2 grand a month ? Too less ? 3 grand ? 3.5 ? That enough ?”he suggested eagerly. Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief, almost bulging from their sockets. Without waiting for her response, he added, “Plus, there’ll be extra incentives when I’m feeling generous.”

“All that for some stitching ? There has to be a catch.” She reasoned. It seemed implausible that he would offer such a substantial sum for such a minor task. Jason chuckled," You’re smart. I like that in a woman. And to answer your question, it’s not just stitching. It’s about your discretion and loyalty. It’s a complete package. Plus that sort of money is pretty much pocket change to me.”

“And if I were to betray your trust ?” Y/N asked in a hypothetical sense, of course she had more sense than to betray someone of his stature and power. “Do you really want me to answer that ?” He countered sounding equal parts smug and menacing. Y/N shook her head in negation and continued stitching his wound. The process of stitching became a meditative rhythm - the needle piercing the skin, the pull of the thread, the knotting, and the slight twitch of Red Hood’s muscles with each stitch.

“I’ll take it.” She muttered. Jason was grateful for his mask and injury otherwise, he might have been unable to hide his urge to jump up and punch air in celebration. Agreeing to his proposition marked just the beginning of his grand plan for making Y/N his and for now, everything unfolded according to his wishes and he couldn’t be happier.

Y/N wrapped gauze around the wound and secured it with a metal clip. “Normally I’d suggest a few days’ rest but I have a feeling there’s no point in saying.” Red Hood commented with a shrug as he inspected the injury. Y/N rose and fetched him a glass of water from the kitchen, setting it on the table. “If you’re trying to get me to remove my helmet, it won’t work.” he remarked. As much as his distrust stung, Y/N rationalised that it was typical for someone like him.

She retrieved a scarf from the coat rack, folded it and tied it around her eyes before taking a seat on the edge of the couch, keeping a respectable distance from the masked vigilante. "What's with the blindfold angel ?" Red Hood asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

"Isn't trust earned through actions?" she responded. Y/N heard the thud of his helmet being placed on the table. Jason seemed genuinely impressed by her gesture. His gaze lingered on her figure as she remained motionless, noting how much she had changed since his childhood memory. Yet her kindness to those in need while still keeping herself guarded from those who would abuse it still remained unchanged. Jason’s hand twitched with the impulse to touch her. To hold her. He wondered how her face would look in his palms with her bare body melded against his own.

“ ‘Suppose it is.” Jason chuckled as he downed the glass of water and put his helmet back on. “I’m finished. You can remove that blindfold now, although it does look adorable on you.” He noticed her chest rise with a sudden hitch, and her cheeks flush red. Y/N couldn’t help but feel a bit embarrassed, knowing the other implications blindfolds carried. As she removed the scarf and looked around, Red Hood had vanished without a trace. Her window was open and it was as if disappeared into the wind just as he came. She got why the bat vigilantes were often likened to cryptid beings and phantoms. Y/N was left to ponder over the events that had unfolded. Under the glass of water she offered him three hundred dollar bills were tucked. “I suppose I’m now working for the Prince of Gotham now.” Y/N mused to herself, realizing her attempt to avoid getting involved had failed miserably.

Jason's parents engaged in another round of screaming matches, this time he decided he’d had enough and thought of running away. Despite previous fleeting thoughts of escape, each time night fell — he faced the harsh reality of lacking sustenance and shelter. Convinced that the streets offered a marginally preferable refuge to the shithole he was force to call home, he wandered aimlessly till he found himself at the dumpster of a bakery. He knew shops like those threw away left overs even though they could’ve given them out — Jason saw it as a glaring manifestation of selfishness of adults.

He hid behind the dumpster and waited for someone to come and throw away the leftovers. After waiting for almost half an hour, the sound of the door opening caught his attention. Glancing cautiously from his hiding spot, Jason spotted a young waitress walking out. She was likely just a few years older than himself, a middle school or a high school student maybe, he thought to himself. As she approached to dispose of the food, she paused midway. No way did she see him ? Jason shrank back against a cardboard box, hoping she wouldn’t notice him.

“Hey kid you can come out. I already saw you.” the waitress said softly. Jason slowly crawled out and approached her. He eyed the tray of leftovers in her hand, wondering if he could snatch them and escape quickly enough ? The waitress seemed to notice this and raised the tray above his reach. “Against bakery policies kid. Where are your parents ?” She asked. Of course she wouldn't be generous enough to offer him any. In his mind, all adults were rotten to the core and selfish —why would she be any different ?

Jason scoffed,“ Does it matter ?” His statement was met with a sigh from the waitress, her expression conveying annoyance, a scene all too familiar to him. Bracing himself he said,“ Just do it already. I’ve had it from guys thrice your size.” Jason was well acquainted with the drill with diner employees — catch a few shoves and slaps, pretend to go away and wait for them to leave and then come back pick up the food.

He shut his eyes and waited for her to slap and swear at him to drive him away like everyone else. Yet moments passed but the expected blow never came. Instead, Jason felt a gentle pat on his head and looked up to see her smiling empathetically, though her eyes betrayed a hint of sadness. Wondering why she seemed so melancholic, he accepted the loaf of bread she offered and wolfed it down. “Won’t you get in trouble for this ?” He asked. With a forced laugh she admitted,“ I probably will but I can’t let a kid hungry now can I ?”

“I won’t tell anyone.” The young boy promised earnestly and she returned his smile. His gaze fell upon her nametag—Y/N L/N. Maybe not all adults are bad.

It had been barely four days since she last saw him that she heard from him again. In the dead of night, her doorbell rang. She approached the door cautiously and grabbed a baseball bat from the umbrella rack as a just in case. She didn’t hear any movement on the other side of the door so she cautiously opened the door, peering out. To her surprise, she found only a small, shoddily wrapped parcel resting on the floor with her name written in red.

There was no one except a small poorly wrapped parcel on floor with her name on it. Retrieving it, she carried it inside. Within the parcel lay a modest yet exquisite golden necklace accompanied by a handwritten instruction manual. Observing it she realised it was one of those necklaces that acted as an SOS signal. The parcel also contained a big folded piece of paper. Unfolding it, she discovered a map of Gotham City with specific locations ominously marked in red and the stark warning “DO NOT GO” emblazoned in bold letters. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtful gesture, maybe this is not all that bad.

Over the following days, Red Hood would appear unannounced giving Y/N enough jumpscares for lifetime, when she would walk into her living room and find him bleeding out on her couch. He wasn’t much of a talker which wasn’t a surprise.

His injuries presented a variety of shapes and sizes each time he visited, but recently, his injuries bore uncanny resemblance the markings of knife wounds. Some were superficial, while others cut deeper. However, considering the depth, placement, and angles, Y/N questioned whether they were the result of his typical fights. "Are you testing my loyalty? Seeing if I'll betray you?" Y/N clenched her teeth with silvers of anger and frustration glinting in her eyes. Red Hood appeared slightly taken aback but remained silent in response to her outburst. "Do you really think I wouldn't notice ? Either that certain type of knife has become Gotham’s thugs number one choice or you're doing this to yourself. Why ?" She pressed further.

“ I knew I shouldn’t have made it so obvious.”Jason wasn’t accustomed to others fussing over his safety. Typically he received, at most a pat on the back from those who worked alongside him, knowing he had endured much worse and could handle it. Her anger and frustration hinted at concern, echoing the tone when he would go and pick fights with boys twice his size.

“What’s that supposed to mean ?”

Red Hood let out a sigh and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, I enjoy spending time with you and I wouldn’t bother coming unless I needed medical attention. So you know —"

“— So you cut yourself ? To hang out with me ? What’s wrong with you ? What if you actually got into a fight with those injuries ? What if you got hurt for real ? You could really get hurt. How could you do that to yourself ? ”

Jason lowered his head in remorse, realizing he hadn't fully considered his actions. Despite understanding her perspective and acknowledging the wrong in purposefully hurting himself for her attention, he couldn't deny a secret sense of satisfaction. "I’m so sorry," he muttered his apology, genuinely meaning every word. Y/N released an exasperated sigh and took a moment to compose herself before speaking again. "Next time, just ask. It's not that complicated."

Jason's head lifted with hopeful curiosity, resembling a puppy eager for a treat. " I can do that ?" he asked tentatively, unsure if her words were genuine. Jason blinks, and then smiles. Her words cause something to stir within him, a sensation of warmth and affection he hasn't felt in a while. Y/N nodded and got up to dispose of the bloody cotton swabs in the kitchen. Jason’s eyes followed her eyes, watching closely and to see if she was still mad at him. Y/N was a pretty forgiving person but in all honesty, he did mess up pretty bad. She returned and settled back down with a sigh, causing a slight nervous flutter in Jason. “So what do vigilantes when they’re not fighting bad guys ?” Y/N initiated as an icebreaker, much to Jason’s relief. It’s not like he could say ‘hey I’m in love with you please hang out with me with marriage in mind’. Wait marriage ? Where did that come from ? Images of Y/N in a white gown walking down an isle flashed through his mind. Y/N Todd. That had a nice ring to it, Jason mused silently. He had heard that Bali was a popular honeymoon destination but Y/N once told him that she always wanted to see the stargazing so the Atacama desert isn’t a bad destination either.

“Um earth to Red. You still here ?” Y/N waved her hand in front of Jason who seemed to have spaced out.

“Red ?”Jason asked sounding positively amused by the unexpected nickname. She shrugged and replied,“ Calling you Red Hood seemed too long, so Red it is. Not very creative, I know.”

Jason chuckled,“ I’ll allow it. And to answer your question, vigilantes don't have much time for leisure. When we're not fighting, we’re either training or passed the fuck out from exhaustion.” Y/N felt tired just hearing that, understanding the reasoning behind it, but the question remained: he wasn’t wasting time by being here, was he ?

“Seems like there’s no room for hobbies?” Y/N quipped, eliciting another soft laugh from Jason as he visibly relaxed. "I suppose so but pros can squeeze in time for special things here and there." he replied, his voice still quiet but now tinged with a smile. His body language seemed brighter and happier, and for the first time since she saw him actually looking relaxed.

Y/N reached for the TV remote, flipping through channels before tossing it onto his lap and standing up. “I’m going to fix myself something. Do you want anything?” she asked politely. Jason shook his head, declining, “I’m good.” Y/N walked to the kitchen and started making herself popcorn. What sort of movies and tv shows would vigilantes enjoy ? She guessed they might lean towards crime-related or action-packed content, but then remembered her friends’ complaints about the inaccuracy of such portrayals.

“Seriously Janet ?! There’s no way you’re picking that dress. Just cuz it would look good on Jessica doesn’t mean it would suit you ! I can hear the wails of the colour theory all the way from here.” Jason shook his head, sounding genuinely disappointed. He probably didn’t even notice Y/N shuffling closer to the television, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. So I guess that answers my question.

“That’s an interesting choice.”

Jason rolled his eyes and diverted his attention back to the television again. “What ? Can’t a man enjoy some good entertainment ?” He retorted. Y/N laughed lightly dismissing his remark,” No no it’s not that. Personally I’m more of a k-drama and anime girlie but I hold nothing against reality tv.” He nodded in acknowledgment of her preferences and resumed watching. Sitting beside him, Y/N observed as he commented on almost everything the people on TV said, finding herself amused by how much more entertaining his live commentary was compared to the actual show.

Minutes rolled by and after almost a couple hours, Y/N got up to go use the washroom and when she returned he had vanished once again, as was his habit. A small note lay where he had sat on her couch earlier. She picked it up and read, “Had a great time. Thanks for today - R” Y/N chuckled and shook her head, Damn these bats and their theatrics.

Jason would show up every three four days, most of the time unharmed thankfully. The two would do a variety of things like watching movies and tv shows together, playing board games and video games and just talking in general. At first it was just discussing their common interests but eventually he would sporadically divulged minor, unimportant details about himself. Some things she was able to piece together were that one, the bat vigilantes was a dysfunctional family with Batman as their patriarch. Second, the Red Hood worked alongside Starfire and Arsenal as his teammates. And third, that he had to be the biggest classic literature nerd she had come across.

“What do you mean your best friend tried to set you on fire while you were taking a shower ?! Didn’t you like lock the door or something ?”

“Locked doors don’t really do much to people like us angel.”

“So who’s your favourite bat sibling ?” Jason fell silent at her question, contemplating the answer. “Well that’s a tough question. I have my set of challenges and grudges with all of them. We’ve tried to kill each other atleast once. More so with my brothers than the girls. I’d say I get along pretty well with spoiler and batgirl. And if you ask about my brothers, I’d say Nightwing. He’s the funny nice one, Red Robin’s the smart, loyal one and Robin is the little obnoxious one.”

Y/N chuckled,“ Guess the article checks out.”

“What article ?” Jason asked curiously. Most of his intel came from law enforcement agencies databases, informants, surveillance technology, his fellow vigilantes and his own investigative work so he didn’t really feel the need to keep up with the cheesy articles in Gazette.

“The cinnamon roll tier list !” Y/N’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.

“The what now ?”

“So there’s this popular meme going online,”she started to explain,“ so there are four categories - first, looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll. In that category are the signal, the spoiler and nightwing. Second, looks like a cinnamon roll, could kill you. That one is for Red Robin and the Robin. Third, looks like could kill you but is a cinnamon roll, that one is for Batgirl and the last is -” she paused because she knew the next tier on the list might potentially sting him.

“Looks like could kill you and would kill you ? Let me guess that’s one for me ?” Jason chuckled humorlessly, fully aware of the kind of reputation that preceded him. He wondered if she held the same perception of him. Y/N remained silent, neither confirming nor denying his statement.

"You know, you don't need to constantly worry about offending me. Believe me, I've heard far worse than anything your pretty mouth could say to me." Y/N couldn't help but feel upset, while his words were true, there was more to it than that. She wanted to express that she wasn't entirely afraid of him, but that wasn't entirely true either.

“Anyways – ”She interjected, clapping her hands once to shift the flow of the conversation,“ I got a new video game from a friend. Let me go get it. DO NOT DISAPPEAR. I’m serious it’s creepy.” Jason responded with her a cheeky salute,“ Yes ma’am.” Y/N disappeared into the bedroom briefly and returned with the DVD. When she came back she noticed Jason had reclined on the couch, appearing to have dozed off.

“Red ?” she asked softly, approaching him. She tried to get his attention again, but he remained unresponsive. He must’ve fallen asleep, she figured remembering what he said about his schedule. Retrieving a blanket from the side of the couch, she gently covered him. She sat there for a while, observing him as he slept. Watching him like this felt natural and familiar. Leaning back on the couch herself, she tried to unwind in the peaceful silence. Y/N couldn't help but admire him and all that he had achieved. Finding a friend in such an extraordinary circumstance was something she had never anticipated.

After a while, a somewhat wicked notion crept into her mind. She tried to shush the voice. Hanging out with Stephanie was sure working its magic, she thought to herself. It was a harmless little prank really, surely he wouldn’t mind. Against all logic and rationale, she decided entertained the idea. Tiptoeing to her closet, she retrieved the item from her closet and cautiously returned, double-checking if he was asleep. Here goes nothing.

#dc #batboys #batman #jason todd #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood smut #dc smut #batfam #yandere jason todd #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #dc comics

[famwhy]

Right Way Up (03)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

Note: I know Steve's initials are on this chapter but that doesn't mean this chapter is focused on him, just a head's up.

prev part. masterlist. next part.

03. bring unto me altruism

trait: s.h.

"YOU know him?"

Your gaze wandered over the top of the BMW, breaking away from the (very sturdy-looking) back of Billy Hargrove to instead lock eyes with Steve Harrington—the latter of which had his own optics thoroughly narrowed in your direction.

"Huh?"

"The new guy—" he scoffed out, and you watched as his lips tugged down, brows furrowed very harshly, "—do you know him?"

Ah, shit. You have got to stop slipping up, Y/N.

"No." The response came out quick—and you turning around to face Billy again came quicker. He was still walking off—skinny jeans making it almost impossible to ignore his figure, very clearly outlining his... ahem just as they had in the show. "I certainly wouldn't mind getting to know him, though."

"Ew, gross."

"Oh please, like you can talk."

"I can talk, actually, and—hey! Where are you going?" 

Midway through his sentence, you had started off towards the school, strutting after the dirty blonde with just as much feigned confidence in your walk as he.

It was rude to walk off halfway through a conversation but that was probably the least of your worries right now. You had a plan and if you wanted to execute it, you couldn't let Billy out of your sight.

"Y/N?"

"Just heading to class, don't worry. Walk Nancy to her first period then head to yours, 'kay? I'll be fine."

What exactly were you doing? Simple—remember the other day when you had no clue where you were going and had to rely on Steve to get you to your classes? Well, today, you could follow Billy Hargrove and, with any luck, you'd end up finding the counselor without having to ask for help and sounding suspicious.

Although, the last of anyone's guesses as to why you were acting peculiar would be that you came from a whole other world; one wherein they were all characters on a screen with almost three-quarters of them being completely irrelevant to the plot and, therefore, not even paid the littlest of attention to by the audience.

Still, better to be safe than sorry.

You had many more worries running rampant in your mind, all loud and overwhelming, grand and all-consuming—almost to the point where you had bumped into the defined back of the 80s bad boy; a defined back which, all of a sudden, wasn't moving like it was just moments ago. 

Why did he stop?

The answer to that question was written clearly on the solid plate stuck to the blank, beaten door before you: COUNSELOR.

Your ears perked up as a jingle sounded from the metal knob, a strong, slightly-tanned hand wrapped firmly around it.

The door refused to budge.

"Ah shit," came the steady curse of the broad male. His body had shifted after that, and even an idiot could tell that he was about to turn around, so you did what any sane person would do—you flung yourself to the side and crashed your butt against one of the chairs snugly tucked against the wall.

Ouch... you'd think the chairs next to the guidance counselor's office would be a little more comfy to land on. 

If Billy had found your actions at all weird, he showed no signs of it—choosing, instead, to plop himself down on the seat next to you; pink lips pulled into a straight line and ocean-blue gaze as cool as steel. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then Billy's glass panes were sure-as-hell foggy beyond belief because you hadn't grasped a single glance at his soul.

But... you still knew what it looked like, the shattered crystals left behind in the wake of his past, ready to prick whoever dared come near with their razor-sharp edges—and that thought had your heart squeezing painfully, both in sympathy and guilt; sympathy for his unfortunate circumstances and... guilt for knowing so much about this boy who hadn't a single clue that you existed before... well, any of this.

"'S there a reason for your staring, princess?"

You blinked, all of a sudden being the recipient of a grin that didn't quite seem to reach the eyes of the sender.

"Huh?"—damn, caught lost in thought again—"Oh! Uh, you're my new neighbour, right?"

He arched a brow.

"Cherry Lane?" You added. "My brother told me someone moved in and you don't look like anyone I know."

His mouth stayed sewn shut and you chose to keep going.

"I think I saw you get out of your car earlier too, there was a California tag on it, is that where you used to live?"

Again. No words. Though, this time, his lips pulled taut and any sign of that previous expression had vanished.

"I always thought the Golden Coast was pretty." You weren't an idiot, you saw the change in his expression—the shift in his gaze—but you didn't let it stop you, continuing to speak with a small, gentle smile, "I'm thinking of going one day."

His eyes had softened a little at that, and he parted his lips—looking as though he was about to speak—when, all of a sudden, a sound reverberated through the near-empty hall, and he closed them once more, raising a brow before sending a pointed look your way.

You felt it coming, the rumble deep down in the pits of your stomach, but you were helpless in stopping it—in containing it—and it arrived before you could even blink—

—a low growl.

Your fist rose up, a light cough leaving your mouth as your gaze awkwardly drifted to the side. "I, uh, didn't eat this morning."

Silence.

Then—to your utter surprise—soft, mirthful chuckles flooded your ears, causing you to whip your head around so fast, you almost sprained your poor neck. Beside you was a sight for sore eyes; one that resulted in your jaw dropping all the way to the floor and your eyes practically bulging out with how much they'd widened.

Billy Hargrove—the Billy Hargrove—was laughing.

His soft, golden curls bounced with each bout of snickers that left his mouth—beautiful, azure eyes crinkled and barely visible past his squinted lids—and yet—they still looked just as striking as usual, as mesmerising and jaw-dropping as on TV—if not, more so.

And then, it really sank in.

You made Billy Hargrove laugh.

And it wasn't some fake, obligatory giggle—nor was it that little, psychotic laugh he did when hysteria clouded his usually-cold gaze—no, it was full-blown, genuine laughter. And you caused it.

That thought had your chest swelling with a lot more pride than it probably should've—

"What's up with the tattoo?"

The question left his mouth much more comfortably than his previous words, flowing out with a small, slightly-smug quirk of his lips, and it took you a moment to register the fact that he had stopped chuckling, his gaze having drifted down—specifically, towards your wrist.

You trailed his gaze, finding yourself being met with the three, thick lines that had been there since the day you arrived in this world and—unsure of why they were there yourself—you shrugged. "Dunno, I think I got it while blackout drunk once."

Something about your response must've been funny because he officially chuckled for the second time since meeting you. "I didn't know you country folk knew how to party that hard."

Now, you might've not been from Hawkins yourself but... something about the way he said that had your eyes narrowing slightly in his direction, and you sprung up from your seat, the underside of your thighs suddenly being greeted by cold air.

"Watch it. We can party just as hard as you Calis."

Your pupils grew shaky as you stood there, watching the next set of his actions with a tingling feeling deep down in your stomach.

One hand on his denim-clad knee, defined biceps flexing as he slowly rose up—your eyes rising with him. And as he took a step closer to you—lips twitching further up with a glint in his eyes you couldn't quite discern—you found yourself starting to slowly lose your breath, hands growing just the slightest bit clammy with the sudden blaze of active nerves you were struck with.

"Yeah?"

You gulped. "Yeah."

You felt hyper-aware as a rough, sun-kissed hand slid around your waist—fitting perfectly against the curve of your back, slowly dragging you closer, and sending a flurry of pleasant tingles straight up your spine to meet with the group that started to steadily arise in your chest; a chest that was mere millimetres from the thin, cotton material that covered his own.

Then, he leaned towards your ear, lips grazing the lobe as he whispered—a sultry lull bleeding into his tone—"Why don't you show me just how hard you can party, huh?"

Your breath audibly hitched in your throat but—before you could fret over what he'd say next, how he'd respond to your silly, little fumble—a 'click!' sounded from your side, and you threw yourself straight out of his sturdy arms quicker than a bolt of lightning—just in time, too, for the face of an older woman emerged from within the office not even moments later.

"Ah," the lady nodded, "you must be William."

Your eyes flitted over to him just in time to catch the way his jaw ticked.

"It's Billy, actually." And when he responded, his voice came out cold, different to the playful lilt it held just moments before.

It didn't take a genius to figure out the name struck a nerve.

"Ah, my bad. Would you like to come in and grab your schedule, Billy?"

He didn't respond but did as she asked, brushing past you to walk into the smaller room, only sharing a brief few seconds of eye-contact as he walked past—but those brief few seconds were enough to grant you just a tiny glimpse into the thunderous storm hidden within the pools of his irises—

—and as the door shut behind him, your lips tugged down.

You couldn't help but let your mind wander to the way his muscles seemed to tense up at the mention of California, freeze in what you could safely assume was caused by his longing to return to the freedom of his home state.

To be forced to depart from your home was nothing new, but you truly felt for Billy and his circumstances. His dad was more than hard on him—he was downright abusive, and Billy was forced to endure it without a single soul in his corner to help him through it, to guide him down the right path and teach him how to break out of the cycle of abuse he was forced into upon being born.

He was only eighteen. A goddamn child. He shouldn't have had to go through what he did.

He should've had the chance to redeem himself.

But that chance was squandered in Season 3, ripped from him akin to how his life was—a grotesque limb of mixed flesh having pierced through his chest, several other messed-up tentacles latched painfully onto his sides, bleeding him dry, draining the life from his eyes.

He didn't deserve to die.

Officially bummed-out by your own trail of thoughts, you heaved out a sigh before your ears perked up at a familiar 'click!' and your head snapped to the door again.

Out came Billy, the smug twitch of his lips back on his face—it was so comfortably situated there, in fact, that if any other person had seen it, they'd have assumed it was there the whole time.

But, despite him looking perfectly fine as he walked out of the old office, you still felt the urge to fly into his arms and wrap him in an embrace filled to the brim with promises; promises to at least provide him some level of support for what he was going through and what he would go through. Though, unlike with Eddie, you couldn't act upon it.

See, Billy and Eddie were two completely different people—where Eddie had brushed off your sudden hug quite easily—happily welcomed it, even—Billy would definitely question it, especially considering the fact that he didn't even know who you were.

And so, although it took all of your willpower, you refrained from throwing yourself onto him—choosing, instead, to stand still as he sauntered over, fingers rising up to brush against your shoulder gently; teasingly.

"See ya 'round, princess."

Instantly, a flurry of tiny, winged creatures erupted in your stomach, sending tingles through your body—up your spine to seize you at your throat, clawing into your windpipe and rendering you motionless in astonishment and awe and—

Was it just you or was it getting hot in here?

"Y/N?" You blinked, attention turning to the dark-haired female suddenly stood before you. "What are you doing here?"

Forcing yourself to forget that... whatever that was, you let a small, sheepish smile curve onto your lips. "Actually, miss, do you mind if I ask for a reprint of my schedule?"

"A reprint?" She rose a brow, arms slowly folding over her chest. "I thought you already had it memorised."

"Oh, uh,"—cue a small, nervous giggle—"you see, it kinda like... slipped my mind, y'know? And I already lost my old one so... can I have that reprint?"

She stood there for a little while longer—letting you really bask in the glory of her heavy judgement—before finally heaving out a sigh through her nose, sounding like she just aged up another ten years as she spun on her heel, full, brown curls bouncing after her.

The ground was smooth, friction practically non-existant as you rocked on your heels, awaiting the piece of paper with bated breath. The ticks of the clock suddenly didn't seem so much like white noise anymore as impatience furrowed your brows and your teeth jutted out, sinking a little into your bottom lip in anticipation.

Then, with a loud, echoing, "Y/N!"—someone had called out to you, but their voice was too high-pitched to be the one you were looking to hear—not to mention the fact that it came from the hall to your right as opposed to the office in front of you.

Your head whipped around just in time to have your whole body jerk a little as a girl skidded to an abrupt stop right next to you, her brown, soft-looking hair bouncing with an almost unnecessary amount of volume.

In her hands were several pieces of bright orange paper, all inked with a few words you couldn't quite make out—not without squinting at least.

"Hey!"

"Uh, hey..."

Who the hell was this again?

"How have you been? You haven't been to practice for a while now, the girls are pretty worried." As she spoke, she tucked a stray strand behind her ear and you squinted—trying to figure out where you'd seen her in the show.

"Oh, uh, I've just been a little sick, that's all."—seriously, who was this girl?—"I'm fine now though."

"That's great to hear!" She beamed, though her smile didn't quite seem to reach her eyes. "Listen, I'm having this party on Halloween and... I wanted you to be the first invite."

She extended one hand—flyer fit snugly between her fingertips—and you reached out, wrapping your fingers around the other end before she released it.

Eyes falling down, you took in the words written in... well, you didn't even know what font that was: TINA'S HALLOWEEN BASH. Come and get Sheet Faced.

Oh, so this was Tina.

"You'll be there, right?"

Your eyes flew back up and you were met with her intense gaze, swirling with a desperate, expectant plea you were almost saddened to see.

"Yeah," you nodded, "I'll be there."

If anyone saw the way her shoulders fell and the muscles on her face relaxed at your words, they would've assumed you took some sort of heavy anvil off her shoulders, freeing her of some sort of imaginary weight that was supposedly weighing her down.

"Thank you," she breathed out, voice practically inaudible over the air leaving her lungs.

Damn, were you that influential?—so much so that your presence would make or break a party?

"No problem?" 

If you were being completely honest, you had no idea what to think of Tina—her character wasn't very explored in the show considering the fact that her role was very minor, the only thing she was really used for was the Halloween bash. But just from these few minutes with her alone, you could tell she was someone who heavily valued reputation.

"Okay, well, I should go," her voice pierced through your thoughts. "I'm thinking of inviting the new kid."

You parted your lips—about to say goodbye—when she twirled around and took off running, not even bothering to spare another glance your way.

Rude.

But as your gaze drifted down to the piece of paper in your hands once more, you found yourself uncaring of her rather unorthodox departure—too busy thinking about... something else.

"Y/N, here's your schedule."

Ah, nevermind the bash, you had your schedule now. You could finally know where you were meant to be for each period—albeit, it would take you a while to actually find the places but at least you knew what subjects you were meant to be in during the week. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Speaking of class, you were long overdue for your first period—

—and your teacher seemed to agree on that too, judging by the harsh glare situated on his face as soon as your sheepish form walked through the door. But hey, could he blame you? No, you were just trying to find your way around this stupid maze of a school.

Luckily, getting to your second class was much easier seeing as you passed it on your way to the first—but that didn't make it any less difficult to have to sit through. You were in Stranger Things—for fuck's sake!—what the hell did Newton's Third Law have to do with it?

You weren't ashamed to admit that you didn't pay attention to any of the other classes leading up to lunch—nor were you opposed to confessing the huge sigh of relief you let out once the long break period finally arrived, because—c'mon—who the hell paid attention to class when they just got transported to another world?

Not you.

So yes, you were currently happily strolling through the halls with your arms crossed over your books as you hugged said items to your chest, no sign of Steve in sight—but, you did catch a glimpse of a very familiar Lion's mane by a set of grey lockers in the corner of your eye.

"Eddie!"

Your voice must've come suddenly because he jumped as soon as you called out to him, head turning your way and one hand situating itself above his heart after he saw you. "Oh, Y/N!"

Your lips twitched up at just the sight of him. "What happened to 'sweetheart'?"

"Oh, uh, you want me to call you that? In front of all these people?"

And just like that, your lips tugged down. "Of course, why would that be a problem? Unless you're uncomfortable with it yourself—in which case, you don't have to call me by it."

Immediately, his head shook from side-to-side, messy hair bouncing crazily along with it. "No, no, not at all... sweetheart."

You'd be lying if you said that the nickname didn't garner a reaction from you; didn't result in your chest swirling with a blazing warmth.

Though, it also seemed to result in the jaw of the person stood next to him dropping to the floor; the same person you had just noticed was there in the first place. He had hair that was just as curly as Eddie's, but—unlike the male you knew—his was cut shorter, barely reaching past his ears really.

You knew this guy, he was one of Eddie's friends.

What was his name again? It started with a G. Let's see... Gavin..? No... Gary..? No...

Oh!

"Gareth right?" Relief washed through your insides when his head nodded, eyes wide and seeming to look through you, almost as if he couldn't even believe you were there, "It's so nice to meet another friend of Eddie's!"

"Another?" He seemed to have shot out of his trance at that, and it wasn't long before he gave you an incredulous look, gaze flickering over from you to Eddie, to you to Eddie, over and over again.

Then, all too suddenly, he pulled on the other male's arm and yanked him to the side—not even 3 feet of you—before resuming, "You're friends with the Queen Bee? How the hell did that happen?"

"You think I know?!"

Eddie's response was enough to garner a chuckle from you, causing both boys to quickly return their gazes to your form. Before they could comment on their fuck-up however, another voice came bellowing down the hall, calling out to you.

"Y/N!" 

Unlike with Gareth before, you recognised that pretty face paired with those luscious ginger strands of hair straight away. How could you not? You had practically seen a thousand edits of them along with the 'Chrissy Wake Up' song on TikTok. Kinda hard to forget her after the Internet did its magic.

Though, it wasn't exactly unpleasant to be meeting her, and so, you gave her as bright a smile as you could muster. "Chrissy! Hey!"

"Hi!" She beamed right back at you, but unlike Tina, Chrissy's smile genuinely reached her glinting eyes, even going as far as adorably crinkling them up a little. "Tina said you were feeling fine now, do you mind coming to practice today? Only if you're okay! I know you've been sick so take as much rest as you need and don't feel pressured."

How the hell could you say no to that?

"Yeah, okay, sure! I'll come with you to practice."

You weren't sure how it was possible, but she seemed to light up even further at that, almost blinding you like the little ball of sunshine she was.

In fact, she was so distracting, you almost forgot the presence of the two boys dressed in a completely different colour pallet to you. Keyword: almost.

"Looks like that's my cue." You turned their way—if only to save your eyesight from genuinely deteriorating due to the light that was Chrissy. "It was nice meeting you, Gareth. Good to see you again, Eddie."

Just before departing, you ghosted your fingers over the covered shoulder of Eddie, wiggling them about like you had done to Steve just the day prior; a signature goodbye, if you will.

And as you walked down the halls, you picked up on one last thing coming from Gareth's mouth... one last thing that was enough to drill your feet straight into the ground.

"Eddie? Eddie, wake up!"

That phrase... 

Flashes of Season 4 infiltrated your gaze; of the unfortunate victims that had their lives stripped from them; of the very girl stood next to you's body flying up, limbs distorting as they snapped irregularly, eyes not even having the pleasure of losing light with how unjustly they were gauged out from her.

Had you messed up somehow?

Had the events of Season 4 ended up being triggered too early by your mere existence?

The questions overwhelmed you—flooded through your senses and clogged up your airways with their untimely arrival. You were a puppet and they were the strings, ushering you to turn around; to rid yourself of the wool pulled over your eyes—of the blissful ignorance surrounding your form—and, helpless to their influence, you did exactly that.

Slowly, your head reared backwards—the room spinning around you—and your eyes were greeted by a welcome sight; one that breathed life back into your limbs.

Eddie stood there—eyes still very much on his face—with a familiar, light blush spread across his cheeks. Even as his form was being rapidly shook by his dear friend, he remained still, gaze trained on you. He only seemed to have snapped out of it after making proper eye-contact with you.

Two blinks. A small, shy raised hand. And a tiny wave.

False alarm. He was just flustered.

It made sense, your previous actions could be interpreted as flirting after all—and to be honest, you didn't really mind if it was (again, the Eddie Munson)—but, you'd be lying if you said he didn't just give you a bit of a scare there.

The sentence that just came out of Gareth's mouth was the very same, infamous sentence uttered by Eddie's lips just before the first death of Season 4—a rather brutal death involving the very ball of sunshine that was just tasked to retrieve you.

Speaking of that ball of sunshine—

"Y/N, you coming?"

You blinked, quickly returning Eddie's wave before whipping your head back around to face the ginger next to you once again.

You had to admit, it was very surreal coming face-to-face with people from the show who were meant to die—it felt kinda like seeing a ghost, and a part of you (just a teensy-weensy, little part) found it... well... unsettling.

But, that was just a small part.

"Yeah. Let's go."

You shook off the residual fear that lingered from that little moment before finally continuing to follow Chrissy down the hall. 

The whole walk was full of her detailing you on the failed practices of the cheerleaders in your absence. Apparently, Heather tried and failed to do a cartwheel into a back-flip as part of one of the routines before dramatically throwing her pompoms to the ground and angrily muttering that you could do it instead.

You had no idea who Heather was but you wished you were there to see it.

Oh, and—with you gone—it seemed as though a lot of the girls had taken to slacking off, opting to gaze longingly at the sweaty boys that played basketball just across the Gym instead of actually being productive.

You doubted that would get any better with Billy around now.

"Well, well, well," a high-pitched voice sliced through your thoughts and you blinked, finally noticing that you arrived at the Gym. "Look who finally decided to show up."

You recognised that puffed-up, blonde hair from the first day of your arrival, the stance she took on being an almost-exact replica of the one back in the infirmary.

"Finally done punching the daylights out of some random freak in school?" She scoffed out.

"Sarah," Chrissy hissed from beside you, "don't say that. Y/N's been sick recently."

"Sick of being just as aggressive as her brother?" Sarah rolled her eyes.

Before you could retort with your own defense, however, someone else had piped in—that person being a brunette with rather short, straight hair, "You're talking like you don't wanna fuck him."

Uh—what?

"Jenny!" Your eyes flitted over to the blonde just in time to catch her reddened cheeks.

"What? It's true, isn't it?"

"Whatever, let's just..."

Sarah trailed off there, jaw hanging open as her eyes seemed to land on something not within your immediate eyesight. And when you found yourself following her gaze—you located the subject of her interest, the lack of words suddenly making sense.

Golden curls you had the pleasure of seeing up close just this morning were farther now, having just barely passed through the entrance. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips as the electricity in his eyes zapped through the Gym before finally landing on you, lips edging up into what you could only call a smirk.

It wasn't long before he sauntered over, practically demanding all of the attention in the room with his walk; attention which was happily handed over to him on a sleek, silver plate.

"All this time I've been calling you princess... when you've really been a queen," as he spoke—voice as husky as ever—a teasing lilt laced into his tone, intensifying his gaze and overwhelming you with his suffocating presence. "Why didn't you say anything, dollface?"

Breathe, Y/N, breathe. Stand your ground. 

You tried to, you really did—but, the only way you'd be able to keep your composure right now was by closing your eyes and pretending you didn't see him—

—so you did exactly that.

Your lashes fluttered shut and you envisioned a blank sea of darkness before uttering out a response, "Didn't think it was important."

"Yeah?" Now, while you might not have been able to see him, you could still very well hear him, and his voice was nothing short of the perfect mixture between smooth and rough and—

Stop. It.

For your own sake—and for fear of further falling apart—you chose not to say anything and only nodded.

That was a mistake.

Instant regret hit you square in the face when you felt the gentle touch of a few, rough fingers against your chin, tilting your head just enough to rest at an angle before a surge of warm air tickled your lashes.

And as he spoke—lips almost grazing your closed lids—those familiar flying pests made their home in your stomach, "Where'd those pretty eyes of yours go? Didn't seem to stop wanting to use them this morning."

Damn him and his smoothness.

In an effort to continue to save face, you resorted to squeezing your eyes even further shut—paying no mind to the blissful warmth slowly coating your form or the teasing snickers that left the bad boy's mouth; snickers which you could practically feel the vibrations of.

"What's the matter? Have I rendered Miss Queen Bee speechless?" 

Your vision was dark but you could still see the smug smirk on his face. Just wait until you gathered yourself, you were gonna make him ten times more flustered than you—just wait.

The light clearing of a throat suddenly served as a reminder that you two weren't the only ones in the room and you found yourself feeling a little... cold when Billy pulled away.

Cold? Ugh, once again, damn him and his smoothness.

Finally deeming it safe to do so, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light once more before you were finally able to make out the slowly-shrinking figure of Billy Hargrove. But just as he reached the entrance of the Gym once more, he paused, one hand firmly gripping onto the frame as he called out to you over his shoulder.

"Keep your bed nice and warm for me, will ya, dollface?"

Your jaw dropped.

Someone else then said something along the lines of 'oh my god' but—if you were being honest—you were barely able to hear it over the echo of Billy's snickers as he walked away, completely amused by your reaction no doubt.

He was so unequivocally bold, you almost couldn't believe it.

"Uh, guys, I think I'm gonna take a raincheck on practice today." But, it seemed as though the other girls definitely could—judging by how the very girl who said this rushed right after Billy.

"Me too!"

"Yeah, uh, I think I'm feeling a little sick."

"Well, I, for one, am chasing up that boy."

"Not if I get him first!"

And as a majority of them rushed after the handsome male, you found yourself deadpanning.

"Bruh."

You definitely couldn't blame them though, the rest of your day was spent recalling all those scenes with him after all. Even Steve noticed your absent-mindedness in the last period of the day—trying several outlandish things to grab your attention that he only informed you of once the lesson was over.

You didn't even notice him waving his arms wildly in front of your face while the teacher's back was turned.

And even as you walked beside him, Nancy strutting ahead of the two of you after you'd picked her up from class, you still had your head roaming around in the clouds.

"Hey, Y/N?" 

You hummed, half-listening, half-not.

Steve then leaned further your way, shoulder brushing your own as he whispered against your ear. "Wish me good luck?"

You blinked up at him, having paid enough attention to scrunch up your nose in confusion and ask, "Good luck for what?"

"The dinner. At Barb's?" 

A few more blinks.

And then—

"Ohhhhh."

Nancy turned around at that, and Steve was quick to hush you. He only resumed talking when she faced forward once more—albeit, slower than she turned around.

"What are you doing? Trying to get me in trouble?!" His whisper came out harsh, and you winced a little.

"Alright, alright, gheez." 

His attitude seemed to be at an all-time high because he rolled his eyes after that. "I just... don't get why I have to go to this stupid dinner anyway."

"Steve." It was your turn to harshly whisper. "Don't say that. Nancy needs closure, this dinner is exactly that."

You felt for Steve just a tad bit, it wasn't his best friend that died after all (thank god for that) but that didn't mean he got to complain about attending a dinner his girlfriend wanted him to be at because he was there the night of the first attack; of the first murder.

See, Barbara (or Barb) had been Nancy's best friend—the two being practically attached by the hip—so of course the night she died would be one that Nancy deeply regretted, and of course she would want closure with the parents of her best friend. It just made sense.

In fact, the whole reason why she did any of what she did in Season 2 was so that she could inform Barb's parents (who still thought their child was out there somewhere) that their kid was, in fact, dead.

"Y/N, you there?"

Caught in a monologue? Seriously, Y/N? What are you, the main character?

"Yeah, I'm here."

Seeing as you were already outside and stood right by Steve's car—you slotted your hand between the cold of both the handle and the door before pulling it open, leaping straight in, and causing the whole vehicle to jerk in a symphony of loud clangs from sheer force.

"Hey! Careful!" It seemed like your music wasn't appreciated by Steve though.

"Relax. It's not like I broke it or anything—" feeling like messing with him—because duh—a smirk slowly twitched onto your lips, "—besides, it's excited to see me, aren't you, girl?"

Steve let out another hiss when you patted the seat a little too harshly—sounding akin to a pissed off feline which just made him seem less menacing and more adorable.

Ha, you tried, Steve, you tried.

The click of the passenger door drew your eyes over to Nancy's form, watching as her legs entered one at a time before she took a seat and turned your way—"We're dropping you off then heading straight over to Barb's."—then, turning to Steve, "Right, Steve?"

You could already hear the grumbled out 'yes' coming from him and you only sent him a grin seeping with amusement when he met your gaze through the rear-view mirror—your lips stretching further as he mouthed the words 'help me' with anguish in his eyes.

"You two have fun, yeah?"

You said the sentence to piss Steve off even further but when you caught a glimpse of the look on Nance's face, a pang shot straight through your chest.

Her eyes had this far-away look about them as her lips curved up by a very small amount—though there was no joy in it, only grief.

"Hey..." you placed one hand on the shoulder of her seat, using it to pull yourself forward as you furrowed your brows, worry clouding your gaze. "You alright?"

She sniffled a little before waving her hand and nodding in response. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."

Your lips tugged down and you shared a look with your best friend before he started the engine, breathing life into the vehicle as you slowly lowered your body back down onto the leather seat.

She wasn't fine; even without knowledge from the show, you could tell. She might not have been crying but her lip was definitely quivering a little and her eyes... well, they just weren't all... present in the moment.

But, she would be fine. And that was enough.

Besides, though it was cold to say, you had bigger things to worry about. Nancy would get help from Jonathan in order to come to terms with Barb's death—meanwhile, you had no one to help you out with all the spare knowledge you stored in your brain; with all the premonitions (if you could call it that) you were blessed with.

Perhaps it was time you started preparing for another bout with the demodogs—you were Steve's best friend, after all; that probably meant you'd most likely end up facing the dogs together with him later on in the Season.

"Y/N."

You perked up at the call of your name, shaking away the thoughts clinging to your brain.

"We're here."

Lo and behold, so it seemed you were, the familiar sidewalk leading up to your house being visible through the clear glass panes beside you.

Clicking open the door, you took one step out before swinging the rest of your body to follow after, and once you closed the door again, you walked over to the passenger-side window—shoes barely making a sound against the ground—before your knees bent down a little and you tapped lightly against the glass.

"Let the Hollands know I wish them the best, okay?" You offered a gentle smile to the girl sat before you, and she tried her best to muster one up in return.

"Okay..."

"See you guys." 

And with a brief wave, you quickly spun around and headed towards the relatively-normal house.

You now—thankfully—had keys of your own so there was no need to knock or anything. Well—it was more like you had them all this time but didn't know where they were and just so happened to find them the other day but—details, details.

After fiddling with the keys a little, you heard a 'click!' and pushed against the handle before entering, one hand moving behind you to carefully shut the door.

"I'm home."

Curt's voice was the first to greet you—albeit, not very genuinely. "Congratulations, want a trophy?"

Uh, yes, actually. You would very much like a trophy after coming back home in one piece in the world of Stranger Things.

"We're having pasta tonight!" Luckily, Cain's words were a lot more welcoming than the other brother.

So, as was your right, you ignored your second oldest brother in favour of responding to the first. "Ooh! Pasta?!"

You had to admit, his cooking the other night was rather good—okay, it was magnificent, you just didn't wanna admit it because you stormed off the other day before being able to properly finish it.

But now that you could—

Before you could finish that train of thought, three loud knocks resounded through the room, no doubt coming from the door behind you.

Huh.

Was that Steve? Did he forget to say something?

You lightly wrapped your palm around the handle, turning it slowly before the door was open once more, a sudden, light breeze hitting you square in the face—

—though, the breeze could never be more sudden than who you saw at the door.

It wasn't your swooshy-haired companion to greet you on the other side—no—but rather, an older woman with barely visible bags underneath her drooping eyes; eyes which seemed to have lost all light, almost appearing chillingly lifeless—

—well, that was until they lit up at the sight of you.

"Oh, Y/N! Baby! I've missed you so much!"

And as she threw herself onto your form—arms engulfing you wholly, emotionally—you found yourself blanking out for once, only one thought popping up in your head:

What. The. Fuck.

@bdudette, @tanyaherondale, @killerqueenfan, @l3xiluve, @thedoubleexposurephotography, @xxqueenofdemonsxx, @briarsheart, @nickey-diano, @uselessbutinteresting, @steeldaisies, @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom, @patheticreative, @majestichugs, @eddiesbitch83, @secretdryrose, @bloodywickedvamp, @charlizekkelly

Did Billy give you guys butterflies or what? 😏 (Srsly tho, I need to know if I'm writing him well—)

#x reader #stranger things #female reader #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere male x female reader #yandere x you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x you #yandere steve harrington #yandere eddie munson #yandere billy hargrove #.right way up #billy hargove x reader

[i-cant-sing]

Naoya becoming a yandere after reader breaks up with him (because why wouldn't she? He's an ass). Naoya realises how terribly he misses you, he misses how you would dote on him, give him all your attention even when he was a jerk, how you would look at him so lovingly like he was your entire world.

But you had just about enough of him berating you and when you finally found him cheating, you turned around and left without saying a word.

It wasn't supposed to bother him- he is above having something as trivial as "girl troubles".

But it does bother him, more so when he sees how quickly you've moved on, going on dates. It hurts- no, no, stupid shit like this can't hurt him. It's INSULTING how easily you've replaced him.

Yeah, insulting. How dare you try to sleep with other people after like what? 2 months after your breakup? What about all the crap about you saying how he's your soulmate? Huh? What the fuck, Y/n? And why the hell does this coffee taste like crap? He made it the same way you did- HE WAS THE ONE WHO TAUGHT YOU HOW TO MAKE IN THE FIRST PLACE SO WHY WONT IT TASTE THE SAME?!

By the sixth month, Naoya was a mess. One night stands don't hit the same, dating isn't fun anymore, he can't sleep without having a dozen pillows on the bed(if only to feel like you were still there) and everything tastes like shit (even if they were made by Michelin starred chefs)

He's miserable without you. He understand that you left him because he was a selfish bastard who cheated but... he doesn't deserve to be punished like this, especially not with you enjoying your life as if he never existed.

So... he'll be selfish again.

He kidnaps you, locks you in his room, and then joins you on the bed, making sure to position you so that your head rested on his chest and he finally fell at peace as his heart beats matched yours.

Of course when you wake up, youre screaming and trying to pull away. Naoya simply grunts, pulls you closer to him until his chest muffles your screaming, and traps your lower body between his legs.

"Geez, shut up, will ya? I'm trying to sleep here."

You bite at his chest (tiddy hehe), and be recoils back. "NAOYA, WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING HERE?!"

Naoya sighs, leaning down to kiss your nose. "I missed you and your childish antics."

"Oh you missed me? Then text or call me instead of fucking kidnapping me!"

"Why are you yelling?" Naoya glared. "I didn't kidnap you. I just... surprised you by bringing you back home."

"Home? Are you on drugs? You do remember me breaking up with you, right?" You asked.

Naoya shook his head. "Ahhh, technically you didn't break up with me. You walked in on me-" "-cheating" "- Yes, stop interrupting me, and then you packed you stuff and left without saying anything. So, technically, you did not break up with me."

You look at him, perplexed. Is he for real?

"Oh well, my bad I guess. I just thought you'd be smart enough to figure out that our relationship went down the drain the moment you decided to sleep with someone else!" You closed your eyes, still struggling against. "Well, I'm informing you now. I'm breaking up with you, Naoya."

"I refuse."

"What? This is not how it goes-"

"Yes it is. You proposed to break up with me. I rejected your proposal. Now, we're a happy couple again."

"NAOYA-!" But he muffled you again with his chest.

"Shh, go to sleep. And if you bite me this time, I'll bite back darling." He whispered, kissing your ear lobe.

"I don't know what I ever saw in you." You mumbled.

Naoya smiled smugly. "It was probably my big dick."

You looked him dead in the eyes. "I've taken dumps bigger than your shrively, little worm, Naoya. Stop lying to yourself-" He shoved your face back into his chest, hoping to suffocate you.

^naoya after your fell asleep and he thought over your words.

#yandere naoya zenin #yandere naoya #naoya x reader #naoya zen'in x reader #naoya zenin #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.9

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin makes the mistake of not listening to his manager’s words and breaks his promise to both himself and to you, while you finally reach your breaking point with everything.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Dance with me,” Liz whined as she tried to pull Aankin away from the bar he was leaning against. When he just shook his head, she rolled her eyes and held up her empty drink, signaling to the bartender for another. “Don’t be so boring, Anakin, we’re here to have fun.”

Anakin huffed and pushed his own drink aside. He was really getting sick of going out with Liz every night, but he felt like he didn’t have much of a choice as she threatened to go without him and insinuated that she was planning to drink hard and do drugs and he knew that if something were to happen to her, he would feel awful and partly responsible. 

“This isn’t very fun to me anymore, Liz,” he mumbled as she finished his drink, making him roll his eyes as he pulled out his wallet and paid for the two drinks he ordered. 

“Oh, come on, rockstar,” she scoffed. “You’re young, you’re hot, this is what you’re supposed to do. Let go of all the worries and stress and just live in the moment. What’s holding you back?”

“The fear of disappointing my manager and friends more than I already have,” he answered and she rolled her eyes again as she grabbed her new drink. 

“The guys are busy with their own lives,” she brushed off his words and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, covering up your writing as she did so. “And as for your manager, she’s too stuck up her own ass to be worried about what you’re doing.”

That was a lie if he ever heard once since Helena just rightfully called him out on his bullshit a few days ago, but he was too exhausted to argue with the drunk photographer. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he still defended her as he tugged his wrist free, pulling out his phone afterwards and checking the time. 

1:03 AM.

God, what is he doing here?

“So defensive,” she teased and took multiple sips of the drink as if that wasn’t the fifth one she’s had during the two hours they’ve been here. “I’m just joking, relax, Ani.”

The name sobers him up pretty quickly, even though he wasn’t even tipsy to begin with. “Don’t call me that,” he says sternly, making Liz’s smile drop as she stares up at him. “Do not call me that, okay?”

You were the only person that was allowed to call him that. You always have been and you always will be. 

He hated that nickname for years until he met you and then fell in love with the way it sounded coming from you. You didn’t tease him about it, weren’t at all condescending or poking fun at him whenever you said it. It was simply the nickname you had given him, and you were the only person he liked hearing say it. 

Even Vinny knew better than to call him Ani, and that’s saying something. 

Liz’s stare turned into a hard glare as she stood up from the stool beside his. “Okay,” she said in a monotone voice. “You know, maybe you should go back to the bus if you’re going to be miserable all night. You’re ruining the fun, Anakin.”

He looked up at her for a few seconds before huffing and standing as well. “Fine,” he said back. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

As he made his way to the exit, his brain tried to go back to the first night he went to a bar and when exactly it became a habit. A bad habit that would probably end with him having severely bad health problems if he were to continue down this path. 

Helena was right, he had been spending too much time getting drunk at all these unfamiliar bars and clubs and he definitely has been spending way too much time with Liz, who was clearly a bad influence on him. 

Really, what business did he have getting drunk with the twenty seven year old tour photographer when he was barely twenty two?

His head was killing him from all the loud rap music he’s listened to at all the bars, and even more from the live music he was performing multiple nights a week on different stages. 

His sleep schedule was non-existent and the circles under his eyes were getting more prominent by the day. He had lost at least fifteen pounds since he would rather drink than eat after every show. 

He was becoming the stereotypical rockstar, and that was something he never wanted to do. 

-

It was Tuesday now and Evan was still being cold towards you.

While you weren’t sure what you did wrong, you still wanted to make up for it somehow. But, as Kenneth was going over this week’s assignment, he held up the papers you submitted to him last week and stood from his chair. “Like the following assignment, this week’s is about something personal. I want to read about your proudest moments, your most embarrassing moments, a moment you felt lost, and I want to read about it in vivid detail. I want to feel like I’m experiencing it right along with you,” he looked over at you and you felt a sense of dread fill your body. “Miss Y/l/n did  a great job on the previous task. You should be looking out for this one.” 

He nodded at you, and Evan, who was sitting silently beside you, stood up with a huff and left the room as soon as Kenneth excused the class. A few other students gave you smiles and pats as they walked by and left as well, and you bit down on your lip as you debated on whether or not you were going to go through with calling out your instructor for supposedly favoring you. 

Evan said he has a soft spot for you, and you could see why he would think that since the praises you have been getting have been pretty excessive in comparison to the other people in the class, but you didn’t feel any more special than the rest of the students around you. 

Clearing your throat, you put your books and laptop in your bag before standing up and walking over to his desk. “Kenneth, can I talk to you for a second?” You ask, feeling a hell of a lot less confident than you sounded. 

“Of course, Miss Y/l/n,” he said back, pausing his task of cleaning up his desk to give you his full attention. He was so nice, you wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away before you possibly messed things up with him, but you stood your ground. “What’s up?”

You swallow harshly and shift uncomfortably as you try to think of what to say. “I….appreciate all of the boosts of confidence, but I think….I think it’s happening a bit too often,” you start and watch as Kenneth’s brows raise. Before you could go back on your words, you quickly add, “I don’t know why you seem to favor me over the rest of the class, but I think you’re being a bit unfair when you should be treating us equally. I’m no better than anyone else here, and I think you know that, so I’m not sure why you’re so…sure that I’m doing so great when everyone is doing just as well as I am. It’s a bit unprofessional.”

You shut up after that and hold back your urge to run out of the room and never look back. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and you were a bit out of breath as you grip the strap of your bag tightly. 

Kenneth’s brows drop and his face relaxes as an unreadable expression takes over his features. “Is that so?” He asked lowly and you felt sick. More dread fills your body as you try to think of something to say that would lighten the mood, but you feared you had already pushed it way past the point of no return. 

Evan convinced you that Kenneth was being unfair with you, so you felt obligated to call him out on it instead of ignoring - something you were deeply regretting as he leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. 

“That piece you did on your boyfriend, Anakin, was it? The rockstar?” He asked as he reached for a framed picture on his desk. He turned the picture around so you could clearly see it, and it was of a woman who looked to be on a stage, a guitar in her hands and a microphone in front of her. “This is my wife.” He informed you and you felt your heart drop a bit. 

“Your….” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he nodded and set the picture down, his wife still in perfect view as he turned back to face you. Why had you never noticed that?  

“Yes, my wife. She’s going into her fourth month of touring in a few days, and when I read your piece about your boyfriend, I related to it more than I have related to anything in quite some time,” he said and you felt your face heat up even more. “I know how tough it is to be with someone who is constantly in the spotlight, and who sometimes steals that spotlight from you, even if unintentionally. My wife, Marissa, she’s amazing; one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, but she’s got this whole separate life from me. I often feel disconnected from her, despite us being married for nearly fifteen years.”

You were left a bit speechless as you stared down at the picture. A feeling of nausea washed over you and you bring a hand up and place it over your stomach as you hold back a noise of pure embarrassment. “I….oh,”

Kenneth gives you a forced smile as he moves the picture from your view completely. “Yeah, oh,” he mumbled. “I felt for you, Miss Y/l/n. I didn’t pity you or favor you, I just knew what you were going through since I have gone through it more than once, too, and wanted to assure you that you are just as talented as your boyfriend supposedly is - like how I wish someone assured me all those years ago. I didn’t want you to think you were always coming in second when compared to your partner.” 

You wanted to cry as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. How the fuck did you read that so wrong? 

“Maybe I was being unfair to the rest of my students, and if that’s the case then I will do better,” he stated as he packed up his bag. “But I never meant for you to think that I’m favoring you or that you’re the best in the class. You’re an amazing writer, Miss Y/l/n, and I think you will do amazing things in your future, but I will gladly keep my thoughts to myself if that’s the way they come across.”

You stare down at the floor as you fight off tears. “I’m so sorry, I just, I thought-” you cut yourself off as you hold back a sob. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Kenneth sighed as he placed his bag onto his shoulder. “Well, maybe you can use this feeling of embarrassment for this week’s assignment,” he offered and walked around you, leaving you to follow after him as he made his way to the door. “Have a good night, Miss Y/l/n.” 

He locked the classroom door then took off down the hall. You cover your mouth as you pretty much sprint in the opposite direction, pushing open the exit doors before grabbing your phone and calling Anakin. 

It rang for a few beats and you were about to hang up and call him again when it finally connected. “Hey, baby,” he greeted in a tired tone and your heart ached even more. 

“Ani,” you cried, walking across campus as quickly as you could since you didn’t want anyone to see you like this. “I messed up, Ani. I fucked up. Oh, my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Slow down, Y/n,” he said in a much more alert voice. “What’s wrong, pretty girl? Why are you crying?”

You felt like crying harder at the fact that this was the most concerned he’s sounded about you in weeks. “I fucked up,” you barely manage to get out.

“Fucked up what?”

“Everything,” you cry as you fumble around in your bag for your keys. “Evan still won’t talk to me, and I accused Kenneth of favoring me after class today when he wasn’t trying to do that at all, and I- I’m so embarrassed, Anakin. I feel so terrible.”

Anakin sighed and the sound made you let out a quiet sob. “Baby….I’m sure you didn’t fuck things up, princess. Just give it a day or two-”

“No, Ani, I completely messed things up,” you cut him off as you struggled to unlock your dorm’s door. “I accused him of something he wasn’t even doing when he was just trying to show that I don’t come in second when it comes to you and how-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He cuts you off this time and you pause your attempts on the door. 

“What?” 

Anakin was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “What does that mean? You coming in second to me?”

You try to control your breathing and focus your attention on the door again. “Nothing, it means nothing, Anakin. He was just trying to make sure I know that you and I are equal and that we’re both-”

“What, and you didn’t know that before?” He cut you off again and you could feel your embarrassment turn into anger. 

“Of course I knew that before, Ani, I just,” you trailed off as you thought back to all the times you’ve called him for comfort or reassurance since he left London and how he hadn’t provided it whatsoever. “You know, Anakin, I called you because I needed to feel the comfort I always feel around you, but you haven’t given me that in weeks.”

He scoffs and you feel your anger rise a bit at the sound. “Sorry I haven’t been able to comfort you when I’m thousands of miles away,” he sarcastically replied and you furrow your brows as you push open the door to your room. “I’ll try harder next time.”

You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it really didn’t help much as you threw your bag onto your bed. “See, there you go again. It’s like I can’t say anything to you without having you get pissed off at me or give me some sarcastic reply,” you say and hear him laugh on the other line, though it sounded humorless. “I need you, Anakin, I need you to be there for me even if you’re not right next to me.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same to you,” he muttered and you just about lost it.

“Fuck, Anakin, I’m sorry I’m not with you on tour right now, but keep in mind that I was with you every single night of the last one. I basically gave up my second year of college so I could be there with you and so we weren’t apart for months at a time,” your voice raised with every passing second, but you were so pent up, you didn’t have much control over yourself right now. “And you keep saying that you’re proud of me but you’re not showing it at all. You said on the very first day of me submitting the application for this program that you knew I’d do well because I’m so smart and talented, but you’ve only cared about yourself from the second I started it.”

Anakin was silent after that and it only irked you even more. 

You pull your jacket off with a huff and throw it onto your bed as well. “You’ve been acting so selfish lately and I pushed it aside because I knew how stressed you’ve been and how caught up you probably were at being back on tour, but I can’t have you acting nice towards me one minute then like a dick the next,” you vent and angrily wipe your eyes that were still producing tear after tear. “It’s not fair.” 

You cry silently after that and listen to the quiet breaths from the other end of the line. “Y/n,” he trailed off and you only cried harder. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not okay!” You sobbed and pace around your room. “For five years I’ve been your number one supporter for everything, and you say you’re mine but I feel like every time I have something exciting to tell you, you make me feel like an idiot for getting excited about it in the first place. I just….I can’t.”

“Y/n,” he tried again but you just shook your head. 

“I can’t,” you mumble. “I called you because I needed you, Anakin, but clearly that was a mistake since my problems aren’t important to you anymore.”

He sounded a bit desperate as he said, “Of course they’re important to me,”

“Yeah, well, you’ve done a bang up job at showing it,” you nearly whisper. “I have to figure out if I’m going to drop out or not, so you can go back to doing whatever it is that you do nowadays. Call me later if you have time to.”

Then you hung up and threw your phone onto the carpet next to your desk before falling onto your bed and crying for God knows how long. 

-

To say Anakin is having a bad day would be an understatement.

He and the guys had just finished being scolded by Helena about the lack of effort they’ve been putting into the tour lately and the sudden pause on getting new music out, and he really didn’t blame her for reaching her boiling point. 

Then you called him in tears and sent his heart that was already running on adrenaline into overdrive and he managed to make your own bad day even worse, and now he felt like the most pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. 

A few weeks ago he felt like he was on top of the world, and now he felt like he had hit rock bottom and didn’t deserve to have any of the things he currently has.

So, when Liz texted him the address to a local club in Berlin, he regretfully agreed to go. 

He was being a total bore again as he sat at the bar and went on about how he felt fucking awful about his phone call with you, and he knew this. Still, he didn’t try to lighten the mood in any way. 

Anakin was three drinks in when Liz, who he was sure had long since grown sick of his bitching, revealed the plastic bag of small, white pills and offered him one. He rejected it and ordered another drink, but an hour passed and he still wasn’t feeling the numbing effect alcohol usually had on him by now. 

“I think they water down the drinks here,” he observed as he pushed away the glass that had more ice cubes than liquid in it. 

Liz laughed as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Of course they do,” she said. “They gotta make money somehow. The more watered down the drinks are, the more you’ll have to spend to actually get drunk.”

Anakin scoffed, “Highway robbery,”

“You’re telling me,” she agreed and placed one of the pills on her tongue. “You’ll spend a fortune here, Anakin. It’ll take a lot more than four drinks to get you drunk.”

He sat up straight and looked over at her. “What do you suggest I do? Go back to the bus and give up on trying?”

She raised a brow, her red lips turning upwards as she pulled out the bag again. “You could always try other methods,” 

Anakin eyed the bag with a tired gaze. He was tipsy and has never in his life done drugs, but he’s heard that they can make you feel like you’re on cloud 9, but only for a little bit. And for once that actually sounded pretty appealing to him right about now. 

Liz must’ve known he was conflicted about her offer as she took one pill out and gave him a lazy smile. “It’ll make you forget about everything that’s stressing you out right now,” she said and took the pill between her thumb and index finger. “You’ll be numb to everything, Anakin. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better. And you only need to take one.”

If he was completely sober right now, he would’ve pushed the pill away and left, but he wasn’t. So he opened his mouth and let her place it onto his tongue. She lifted up his drink and held it out to him, not letting him set it down until it was finished. 

Then she ordered him another one and practically forced it down his throat as well before pulling him away from the bar once he was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I should sit,” his voice sounded muffled to his own ears as she tugged him through the crowd of people and towards a secluded area of the club. 

Liz shook her head, and the movement had his own head spinning a bit. “No,” she murmured, running her hand up his abdomen, pulling his white shirt up with her as she did so. “You need to relax. Let me help you.”

“Liz,” he tried to push her away but he felt numb. No matter how many times he tried to blink away the blurriness, he still wasn’t able to see clearly. He wasn’t feeling any happier, in fact he felt worse, but at least his chest wasn’t aching anymore. “I should call Y/n. I need to tell her that I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” she hushed him, pushing him up against a wall before crouching down in front of him. “Pretend I’m Y/n.”

Anakin shook his head and felt his eyesight worsen at the fast movement. “I can’t,” he begged. “Liz-”

“I’m Y/n,” she persisted, beginning to kiss up his abs, surely leaving behind bright red lipstick stains in her path. “It’s Y/n, baby. Just relax, Ani, let me take care of you.”

Her lips on his skin felt foreign and he tried to push her away again but she seemed to be a lot stronger than he is right now. His head was spinning and his body felt like it was on fire as he looked around the dark area. “Y/n,” he weakly called out, hearing a laugh come from below him that sounded a lot like yours. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” if he really thought about it, he could almost picture that it was you in front of him. It was you who is kissing up his chest, you who is pushing away his black jean jacket in order to trace your tongue up his ribcage. 

Anakin looked down and could’ve sworn that it actually is you. You had come here for him after your terrible phone call earlier. You were here with him, making him feel like he was the most important person in the world. “Y/n,” he rasped, reaching a hand out and tracing his knuckles along your jaw. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Ani,” it was even your sweet voice that responded to him. And if he squinted, he could almost make out the A you had tattooed on your wrist. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

He leaned back against the wall you had pushed him against and felt his head pound a bit as the high took over his body. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, caressing the sides of your face as you stood to your full height. You seemed a bit taller than before, even in heels, but he wasn’t able to question you on it before the distance was closed and your mouth was pressed to his. 

Except it wasn’t your mouth. And it wasn’t your hand gripping the back of his neck. It wasn’t you. 

Anakin pulled back instantly, the feeling of Liz’s lips on his own making bile rise up his throat as he stumbled away from her. The high came crashing down quickly, making his head ache worse than anything he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Guilt and shame hit him at full speed and his eyes burned with tears as Liz invaded his space again. 

His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his ears were ringing as he pushed her away when she tried to grab onto his arm. “Get away from me,” he muttered, watching as she shook her head. 

“You’re coming back down, Anakin, you’re probably feeling kind of dizzy right now. Just hold onto me and we’ll go sit somewhere,” she offered but he just squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to hold back the bile rising in his throat at what he had just done.

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker headcanons #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #sw anakin #star wars anakin #anakin star wars #anakin fanfiction #tcw anakin #rocker anakin skywalker #rocker anakin #wrapped around your finger au #wrapped around your finger #screaming whispers au

[mykinkyyandere]

Weak Princess

AO3

Pairings: Yandere/Dark! Daddy! Five Hargreeves X Age Regressed! Naive! f!Reader

Summary: Five's desire to have you goes back to his childhood years. Over the years, this protective instinct turns into a darker, more obsessive desire. On top of that, you being so naive only makes things worse.

Warnings: Smut, DUB-CON & NON-CON, +18, yandere, dark, obsessive, possessive, controlling, stalking, manipulating, abusing, lying, kidnapped reader, male & female receiving, daddy-kink, praise kink, hinted somnophilia & hand job, punishments, male dominance, (forced) age regressed & isolated reader, naive & innocent reader, taking advantage of the reader, step-sibling relationship, sexual assault, drugged reader, bottle-feeding, pet names, smacking on the butt, hair pulling, shower sex, oral sex (both receiving), forcing to blow job, slapping face with cock, cumming in mouth, forcing to drink cum, drinking cum, slightly chocking, hinted dacryphilia (?), unprotected sex, drunk sex, drunk Five, cumming inside, loss of virginity, slight blood (virginity), dirty talk (?), grammatical mistakes, possible missed warnings

A/N: Five's a grown-up & didn't stuck in the future. This fiction focuses on flashbacks & past.

It was difficult for you to make sense of life. Understanding life and taking care of yourself. You never knew why you were like this and you constantly watched others to take care of you. First different nannies and then your new mom. Dad said that there was a problem with you and kept your interaction with people very limited. You hardly ever played with your siblings and you saw very little of them. You barely even left your room because dad didn't let you, as you had somehow hurt yourself everytime. Seeing how upset you were, mom got dad's permission and took you to your siblings from time to time, promising to keep you completely safe. Unfortunately, you didn't grow up together enough to get to know each other and establish closeness. But that didn't stop Five from developing an instinct for you that would later become a huge obsession.

You knew that the fact that you were so vulnerable, in need of protection and care was something that attract Five's attention from the very first moment. His eyes were on you, always. Even though you barely saw him, you could tell at a glance how polar opposite he was. You tried to get him out of your mind, but you couldn't stop comparing yourself to him. You wondered if he was comparing too, if he thought how different you were. You wished so much that the meaning of his stares, which were always on you, would be good. If you knew he was staring at you because he hated you, you'd probably cry and never be able to go out again because he was great in your eyes.

He's always been the powerful boy in every way. He neither cared nor obeyed what others said. With his rebelliousness and self-confidence, he's always been the most different person in the room and the scariest person to you. You could tell he was proud of the way he was. He was satisfied with the little smile that appeared on his face when they recognized his intelligence and superiority and saw him as a leader. You could see that being weak was something he had never experienced. On the other hand, seeing how much of a 'coward' girl you were compared to him made you shy away from him. You were afraid that he wouldn't like you, break your heart, or embarrass you. You never could've guessed what a boy like him might think of a girl like you. He looked at you all the time, he was always around whenever you were allowed to go out. You thought he was belittling you. But you were wrong.

One day you walked through the mansion to find your siblings without mom seeing you. You felt bad for running away from her, but you wanted to take care of yourself. After using the stairs, you saw Five and froze in panic. You were so scared because you thought he was going to be mad at you and tell you to go. You wanted to go back without him seeing you, but you met his eyes. Out of breath, you took a step back and lost your balance. You could've been seriously injured if you had fallen down those stairs. Maybe you could have died. But Five, catching your falling body, held you tight and jumped back to where he was. He knealed on the floor, leaned your body against his shoulder, and gripped your chin. His gaze was firm. His brows were furrowed and it was clear that he wasn't satisfied. "What are you doing on the stairs all alone?"

You tried to get up but he didn't let you. His hold around your body was firm, and his demeanor showed that he certainly didn't want you to do the opposite of what he wanted. He squeezed your chin a little and forced you to answer. His voice was calm, but definitely serious. "Why are you alone?"

"I wanted to find my siblings." Your eyes filled with tears and your voice trembled. He definitely scared you. He tightened his arm and shook his head when you wanted to get out of his hold. He took a deep breath and looked down at you disapprovingly.

"Without mom?"

You didn't know how to respond and started to cry. Were you too sensitive or was he too harsh? Why didn't he let you go, why did he push you so hard? Did he hate you that much? He watched you cry for a short while without doing anything, and then he let go of your chin and hugged you. He... hugged you. You couldn't believe he hugged you. You felt that he was hesitating but he was gentle as he hugged you. He patted your head, slowly pulling your hair near your ear. His hot breath tickled you and made you tremble. "You can't walk around alone. Something very bad could happen to you."

You felt so helpless, and sad. He was right, what were you thinking? If he hadn't saved you... You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, couldn't measure your acts. You didn't notice your tears soaking his uniform as you lay your head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry." You burst into tears, therefore he teleported you to his room. He even carried you to his bed and let you sleep there. Your thoughts about Five had changed that day. You saw that he actually cared about you when he carefully put you in his bed, sat next to you and caressed your cheek. He even apologized for being harsh on you. Then, he gave you a long warning that you shouldn't go anywhere without mom, or him. He said you shouldn't be afraid of him and you should always tell him when you need or want something.

"I know I'm scaring you, I've been aware of this for a long time. You're so timid that I couldn't help but try to understand you from afar. A mysterious, shy and rather fragile girl who rarely leaves her room. Like an angel hiding or being protected from the evil world. You're just so... whatever. To be honest, I thought it was impossible to talk to you. I don't know why, probably this sounds so stupid right now. I don't know how to explain. For that, you must see yourself through my eyes. The feelings you give me are quite... different. But I just want you to know that I've always wanted to be close to you."

He constantly checked on you to make sure he had your attention as he spoke. He cupped your cheeks and brought his face closer to yours, he tilted his head to ask if you understood, or he repeated himself several times when he thought you didn't understand. That was the day you broke the wall between you and him. Five, once looking at you from afar, said that you shouldn't leave his side no matter what. He even told that he wanted to protect you. It was comforting to learn that he actually kept protective rather than bad thoughts about you. "I'm going to talk to dad. It's time for me to take charge of you. As if I really care if he says no."

"But don't you have more important things to do? Like saving the world?" You grabbed his wrist as he caressed your cheek with his thumb and looked at him with an almost sad expression. He smiled but somehow managed to seem scary. Oh, he was very bossy, he had that dominant energy and you felt overwhelmed by the effect he had on you. Even if it was dad, he had an attitude that could confront anyone with his stubbornness and fearlessness.

"I want to spend time with you. We never got a chance to get to know each other, don't you think?"

You nodded and kept staring at him. "What if he says no?"

Smiling, he leaned closer to your face and whispered. "Then I have no choice but to kidnap you."

Of course he calmed you down by patting your head as you gasped in surprise and looked at him with horror. It was just a joke, you don't need to be afraid.

After that day, Five was always with you instead of watching you from afar. He talked to you, more like asking questions, but it was okay. He asked if you felt dizzy or thirsty, if you were afraid or bored, if were you hurt, if you needed something or wanted something... He was being a little obsessed. You saw that Five wasn't the cruel person you thought to be, but you never thought that he'd be someone who would constantly worry about you and question you for that. You weren't sure what to think. Everything was already very difficult for you. But whenever you felt uneasy about his behaviors and wanted go, he restrained himself. He made you think you were exaggerating every time. Although he scared you sometimes, him protecting you from dad was something that always made your heart tremble.

One day, dad said you had no power, but a weakness that keeps you behind. You can't take care of yourself, you always believe in everyone, you're scared of everything instantly and many more things. "You weren't born a superhero, you were born a super weak!", that's what he told you in front of all your siblings, Pogo, and mom after you run out of your room to attend your siblings' training.

Some of your siblings looked at the ground, some at you. None of them stood up to dad or followed you as you ran crying into your room. Or that they didn't comfort you when you left your room in the weeks that followed. Except Five. When you met his eyes after dad's cruel words, you saw him pressing his lips together. He clenched his fist and shook his head. You heard him yelling at dad as you left there in shame, unable to stand to be in front of anyone any longer. Five's words were bold, truly he was fearless.

Then, when you thought no one would come after you, he suddenly appeared in front of you and grabbed your arms when you jumped with fear. You were excited by those weird feelings in your heart as he tilted his head to make eye contact. When you tried to turn your head, he grabbed your cheek and forced you to look at him. You almost saw his hidden feelings when you looked into his eyes. It was all written there. His eyebrows were raised and his mouth was separated. His expression was full of sadness and pity. He seemed to really need to know that you was and would be okay, or at least you felt like it. "Don't listen to him. You know what a bad man he is. You're so special. No, super special."

The first time you were allowed out of your room in weeks after that, you went to your siblings again. Yes, you were offended, but you were also alone. There were no other people around to see. You watched their training like always and when they took a break, Five jumped next to you. "How's my little sister doing?" He spoke loudly and put his arm around your shoulder. He looked like he wanted everyone to hear him. He wanted them to know that he was taking care of you or that you were somehow close to him.

-

Years passed and everyone went their own way. You, on the other hand, were so lucky to have Five take you with him. The first thing he did was buying a house that he knew would be completely safe for you. Then he decorated your rooms in your taste. Maybe with a little extra safety measures. No pointy furniture, no pointed items, mirrors and windows are impossible to break...

You were strictly forbidden to go out and supposed to stay in your 'playroom' when he wasn't there. He said this room was good for your mind. He told you that you were much more sensitive because you were much more navie than other people for some reason. That's why you had to be protected with high safety measures. And it was his job to protect you. Protecting you, even from yourself, was his top priority. Deep down you thought it was wrong. He wasn't supposed to be like this. But Five never let you argue otherwise. In early days, he was softer with you, showed more tolerance. But as time passed, you felt that his hold on you was getting tighter. He controlled you more than before and even started punishing you. Your first punishment was because you left your playroom and go to the kitchen, and he never allowed you to go there. It was a big no-no place. He was mad, gripping your arm and causing you to whimper in pain. He pushed you into the bed and pinned your arms above your head.

Five got a lot tougher with you as time went on, but it was the first time he had a physical reaction on you. A real physical reaction of his anger. You've never forgotten the way he snapped "What the hell do you think you're doing!". Then he grabbed your arm and dragged you to the bed. He gave you ten hard smacks on each cheek of your butt. You were so scared of him that day, and from that day on, you kept being scared, no matter how much he tried to soothe you. You wanted to get away from him, you wanted to run away from him. By the time you realized how much Five wanted to control you, how much he wanted to possess you, it was too late. A time traveler, ruthless and fetal. There was no escape from him. And he had changed a lot. Of course, you didn't expect him to stay the same as he was years ago. He had grown into a much more dominant man.

The first time, when you moved into your house, he just wanted you to be in your playroom until he was home, including at noon. Later, he let you into the bedroom when he decided you need a daily nap. You could only enter the bedroom at bedtime and nap time because otherwise you would be confused and disrupt your sleep patterns.

Weeks later, he sat you on his lap and started asking how you were. It was more like a questioning ritual in which he questioned you in the evening, making sure that everything was alright. He kept asking you throughout the day if you were okay, but when he sat you on his lap, he gave you a general questioning about everything. It was more about what you did. He wanted to know everything he hadn't witnessed. He said it was a brainstorm when it bothered you and you tried to avoid him. It was important to strengthen your memory.

Then he started dressing you. You wore what he wanted, not what you wanted. He said that although the choice of clothes may seem simple, it was actually very important for your physical health, so you can't do it on your own. Just trust him, daddy knows best. Yes, it sounded off when he first called himself daddy. But he said that he actually had that title from the very beginning, just a title that your sensitive little mind can't comprehend in a minute, that's why he didn't tell you anything about it before. It would scare you if he did.

"A daddy always takes care of his baby. You don't need anyone while I'm around, especially that man. He wasn't your dad. But I can be your daddy, you just need to let me."

He didn't seem to be asking for permission though. He was just getting you used to it. He even started scolding you when you didn't call him daddy. He often held your chin and looked directly into your eyes or smacked your butt randomly.

So you learned eventually. You loved that he took care of you. Actually, you felt like you needed it. You saw that he was quite pleased with dealing every single detail. So when he told you to call him daddy, you did. And you soon got used to it. For this reason, he gave you your first chores: You had to take off his clothes every time he came home. Not all of them, just the jackets of his black suite, his tie, belt and watch. He said doing these things was one of the best thanks you can give to your daddy.

But someday he asked you to take off his shirt, too. You hesitated at first and gave him a confused look. "But you will be half naked."

“I know, little lady.” You froze as you kept your hands on the buttons on his collar and put your hands on his shoulders instead. You stared at him, highly confused. He smiled and gave you a small smack on the butt, making you jump. "Don't keep daddy waiting."

You slowly unbuttoned it with a whimper that escaped your mouth. Your hands were shaking and you tilted your head to avoid eye contact, but you could feel his gaze on you. He grabbed your chin and lifted your head. "Look at me."

Tears filled your eyes as you unbuttoned it by looking at him. His smile, hidden behind his intense gaze, was crushing you. He loved to lead you, no matter what. He enjoyed seeing you melt under him. He loved that you obeyed him.

He told you to look at him when he's naked. He asked you to look at his body and touch it. You didn't understand why he wanted something like that. Of course you raised your voice and asked questions, but not in an angry way, in a confused way.

"You must stop being shy around me. Touch this body and know it, feel it. I'm not a stranger, it is yours. I am yours, just as you are mine. So touch me and don't be afraid to look at me. Soon we will meet our needs. It can't wait forever."

You didn't understand what he meant by needs, but you did as he said. You touched his body with your shaky hands and brought it over his muscles. It was a very difficult and different experience for you. Being close to a body, touching it... It was something you had never experienced. But you thought it was important for the intimacy of the two of you, you had to be physically close in order for you to be close. You didn't know anything because you had no friends or no one to teach you, but you trusted Five.

When he thought it was enough, he kissed your cheek and let you go. But he called you during the shower. You asked several times if he was sure it would be okay to get in. You thought he would be in his clothes, or at least with a towel. You screamed when you saw him naked and turned around.

"It's okay, baby. Take your clothes off and come here. Daddy needs you so bad."

When you refused to go and stayed where you were, he raised his voice. It scared you. "I won't ask you again."

You had no choice but to obey. You took off your clothes and left your underwear, but he warned. "Including your cute little panties and bra."

Your cheeks burned and you hesitated, but you didn't want to make him mad. You lowered your head and were about to slowly pull your panties off when he warned you again. He took your breath away. "Look at me."

And you looked at him. Your eyes were on his firm face but seeing other parts of his body even blurred made you panic. You begged him, hoping he'd have mercy. Your voice was very shaky. A small, frightened voice compared to his clear, harsh one. "I- I'm scared. Please I-"

"No need to be scared, princess. I'm not gonna hurt you. I only want to love your beautiful body. Daddies often need to touch their little princesses. This isn't a bad thing."

You didn't want him to break his soft side, so you took off your panties and bra, in front of his crushing gaze. Covering your breasts with one arm and your pussy with your one hand, you walked over to him and turned your head to a place where you had completely taken him out of sight. He already saw your private parts, but you still wanted to cover them. "Daddy, why do you need me naked?" Your voice sounded like ready to cry.

"Look at me." His voice was hoarse. There was no room for protest in his tone, you could feel it. You turned your head to avoid testing him even more. You must have looked a little too high that you could see the shower ceiling in detail.

He grabbed your cheeks and caressed them. "You're so cute." Then he pulled you into a passionate kiss.

Your first kiss. This was your first kiss.

Your first kiss was with Five, naked, in the shower. You couldn't believe it.

When you tried to push him, he pinned you against the wall and pressed himself against you. He didn't care that you wanted to go as he bit and sucked your lips. He pinned your hands above your head with one hand and grapped your waist with the other. He kissed you like that for minutes. He grabbed your breasts and kneaded, cupped your pussy and rubbed. The sobs you gave in his mouth didn't affect him. It actually affected him differently because as your whimpers increased, his kisses and rubbings became more intense.

Later he turned your face to the wall and pulled your butt towards him. "Please don't!"

He gripped your butt tightly and kneaded it pretty hard as he leaned against you. He moaned into your ear after he kissed your neck. "You have no idea how long I needed you."

You screamed when something hard rubbed up and down in your pussy. It parted your lips and rubbed with pressure. "What's happening?"

"It's me baby, look what you do to me. Now I want you to trust me and press your legs tightly. All right, little princess? Can you do that?"

He squeezed your nipple. Trust him, trust daddy, he knows best. You slowly closed your legs and squeezed him. "More." His throbbing made you squirm. He must have liked it that he pressed himself hard against you. You had no idea why he wanted such a thing, what he was going to do.

"Now I want you to lay your back againts me and wrap your arms around my neck. Understood?"

"Daddy please..." You begged but he smack your butt.

"Understood?" He grit his teeth.

"Uh-huh." You whispered with fear.

This time he smack your butt much harder. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back, rubbing his lips on yours. "Bad girl."

He didn't pull his lips and forced you to talk like that. Your lips tickled. "I'm sorry daddy, please, I'm so sorry." He moved away from you a little and looked at your face with a stern expression. You corrected yourself, hoping he would forgive you. "Understood, daddy."

"This was the last time you tried me. Next time I won't warn you and I'll tear your little pussy apart, understood?"

"Yes daddy." You cried more the moment he let go of your hair and pulled away from your face. Your body trembled and you couldn't breathe. You were so scared of him that you couldn't stop crying. You felt dizzy, like you were going to pass out.

He leaned your back against himself. He grabbed your chin and turned it towards him, trying to comfort you. "I hate making you cry. But you have to learn to listen to me. I love you so much, don't forget that, okay?"

"Okay daddy." You sniffed. He gently guided you to wrap your arms around his neck. Then he caressed your waist and breasts. Slowly moving himself between your legs and rubbing your pussy, he looked at his tip sticking out from between your legs.

"Now close your eyes and focus on your sweet little pussy."

As he said, you closed your eyes and tried to focus. What you felt was so weird, so different. It was something you've never experienced before. Feeling the hard and rather scary part of him between your legs, rubbing your pussy with pressure, was beyond anything you've ever felt. The way he caressed your arms, the way he brought his face to your cheek and gave his warm breath on you, the growls that escaped his mouth, and the way his hands kneaded your body, all gave you weird feelings. You didn't know what he was doing to your body. Your pussy was burning, begging for something to happen, but you didn't know what. You threw your head back and moaned.

"Good girl." He held your neck and kissed your lips. The pleasure he gave you left you so vulnerable. The slippery sounds that came out as he moved filled your ears. "So wet, I can feel you clenching. Such a good girl."

He grabbed your hips from both sides and pressed it tightly against himself. "Focus and stay put." He slammed into your butt as he pushed himself forward, filling the area with clap sounds. Your moans broke into shaky pieces and echoed from all sides. You arched your back even more and focused on the rapidly increasing sensation.

"Yeah! Yeah, good girl." He was out of breath. You weren't the only one with good feelings. You thought he'd lost his mind as he dipped his fingers in in your skin. "Such a good girl."

"Why do I feel-"

"Cum for me."

You screamed as he let go of your hips and squeezed your breasts painfully. He immediately softened his grip and apologized over and over in a whisper, but his hold was still firm. He was hitting you so hard and fast that it burned from the contact between your butt and legs. Your growing feelings were no longer stoppable, you were close to giving whatever he asked of you. Very close. Your legs closed even more, your body strained. Your lips parted even more as you arched your back as hard as you could, you started to shake as something exploded inside. Your moans were loud. Five kissed you over and over again saying what a good girl you were. He never stopped saying how wonderful your clenches you sent around him.

"Get on your knees."

Even if he was the one who gave you the order, as soon as he said he grabbed your arms and turned you towards him. He placed a hard kiss on your lips, then pressed you to the floor. Face-to-face with his cock made you jump back in fear, but he held you steady. "Take it in your mouth."

"Daddy..." You were still trembling slightly and your eyes were closing because of the sensitivity between your legs.

He grabbed your hair and slapped you on the cheek with his cock. He slapped you on both cheeks a few more times, then rubbed it on your face and pressed it to your lips. "Believe me, I'll hurt you if I do. Don't test my patience, babygirl."

You nodded immediately and apologized. You let out a whinper as your trembling hands touched him, which you thought Five liked because he patted your head. You wrapped both of your hands around him and slowly took the tip into your mouth. You didn't know what to do, or why you were doing it. But you had to. You were his good girl.

When you took him in your mouth, he threw his head back and moaned loudly. The hand holding your hair tightened and pushed you a little towards him. "Suck it. I wanna feel that warm little tongue of yours."

You did as he said but you were too slow and gentle for fear of hurting him. You panicked when he pressed your head against him. You let go of your hands holding him and leaned against his legs. You tried to pull yourself back but he was moving your head back and forth. You hit his legs in panic, coughed a little and sobbed breathlessly before he pulled you back. You were so miserable, frightened, small and shaky.

"I'm so sorry." After giving you a few more seconds to catch your breath, he pushed himself and kept abusing your mouth. "I'm so close baby, just hold on."

You closed your teary eyes and begged it to end as soon as possible. He held your head tightly as he started throbbing in your mouth and warned you. "Hold your breath, babygirl. I know you can take me." And then he poured himself into your mouth. It was too much, you thought you would choke, and it was salty. You didn't know how long you could hold your breath and you hit his legs. But he held you steady and throbbing out more cum. His moans echoed throughout the shower. You hit his legs more, couldn't take it anymore. You had to drink some of his cum as he held your head a little more still. When he finally pulled you back, he immediately covered your mouth. "Swallow."

You swallowed quickly in hopes of catching your breath, and you coughed wildly when he took his hand away from your mouth. You put your hands on the floor and sobbed as you cried. Without waiting too long, he took you in his arms and carried you to the bathtub. He prepared warm water after he put you in it and said what a good girl you were that day as he gently washed you. "I'm so proud of you. You satisfied your daddy so, so well. I knew my beautiful little princess would take me that well."

After washing you, he took you to bed and dressed you in your favorite color. Your skirt was too short and you had no panties on yet. You sighed as you waited for him to put your panties on you. Your body was still shaking from what you had just experienced. He stopped when he was about to put on the panties, he threw it over your head. He lifted your legs and bent them towards you. He knealed before the bed and kissed your sensitive spot softly, then licked all over your pussy. "You're like a candy."

He moved his tongue very slowly. He let his hot breath burn your pussy as he licked and grabbed your breast. He was slow, pressing specifically on your sensitive spot and not forgetting to lick your slit. Then he started to suck the most sensitive part of your poor little pussy mercilessly. You screamed and writhed on the bed and asked him to stop, but he brought the hand that was holding your breast to your neck and held you fixed. Crying, you grabbed his wrist and crushed under his strong tongue blows. He didn't leave you, he never broke contact with you. Her growls vibrated and you arched your back as he savored your pussy. It was about to happen again. You were about to experience that feeling again.

He pulled his hand away from your neck and pulled you closer by your legs to fit his position better. You pushed your hips to his face and moaned shakily as the vibration filled your entire body. The sounds he made while drinking your juice were so dirty, so shameless. It was his physical way to say that you were delicious when he ripped you apart with his mouth.

After the first sexual activity you experienced, Five's physical interaction to you highly increased. Sitting on his lap, he cupped your pussy and kneaded your breasts, waking you by licking or rubbing your pussy while you were asleep, asking you to hand job him...

He told you many times what a good girl you were and gave you several rewards. Coloring books, toys, dolls, cute clothes, jewelry and much more. "My rule is actually very simple. Be my good little princess and I'll make you very happy."

You did whatever he said to prove you were a good girl. Even when he wants to bottle-feed you. He basically wanted to be in control of everything about you because you were too naive to do and figure anything out on your own. So he picked you up, rested your head on his shoulder, and brought the bottle to your lips. "You'll make daddy so proud if you drink it all."

You started to feel very different as time went on. Weaker, more scared and more needy than ever before. It's like you've been out of your mind since he started bottle-feeding you. When you tried to explain it to him, he silenced you and patted your head. "My little baby's dreaming again. Don't be afraid, princess. I'll protect you. Just do as I say." And what he said was staying in your playroom all the time, playing, feeding from the bottle, taking a nap, sitting on his lap, taking him in your mouth... It was like you were being deliberately held back when you could move forward.

And you noticed something. Five would never leave you even if you wanted to. He constantly told you how much you were in danger and how much you needed him, "You need me, you can't survive without me". But in time, you saw that there were different reasons behind it. His obsession with you. His desire to possess you. He thought he owned you.

You were already weak when you wanted to escape. It wasn't the kind of weakness you felt before, it was the kind of weakness that made you want to sit on his lap and sleep. Or the kind that made you want to cry when he patted your head and told you what a good girl you were. Your muscles were also very weak. You had trouble walking, so you were usually sitting all the time. You could only ask Five to walk you around. Even speaking was hard.

After he had you completely in his claws, you paid attention to the red flags and tried to crawl out of the room. You were extremely late, there wasn't even a little chance to run. But you had to try. You had a hard time trying to open the door, you were about to make it. But he jumped behind you and looked at you with his arms put together on his chest. He tilted his head and threw one leg forward, a questioning expression on his face. "What is my princess up to?"

You looked at him with a fearful expression. Before you could explain himself, he picked you up and jumped into the bedroom. "You know, I've always wanted to taste deep inside your little pussy, but I thought you weren't ready for it yet. And I didn't want to rush it. Every moment with you is too precious for me to rush. But I think you're ready now, don't you think?"

He threw you on the bed and loosened his tie. His hair was falling into his eyes, and the sleeves of his white shirt were folded. The veins on his hands were reaching up to his arms. He didn't unbutton his black vest, but unbuttoned the first buttons of his shirt. He took off his tie and leaned you, tying your wrists. You apologized crying but he didn't listen to you. "You're a very naughty princess."

He sat on the bed and laid you facedown on his knee. He pulled your tiny skirt up to your waist and kneaded your cheeks, which exposed from the sides of your little panties. You screamed to his quick smack. "Were you trying to escape?"

"No!" You begged and he just hit harder.

"Liar." He smacked you on each cheek twenty times, very hard, and laid you on the bed. Your butt was burning and your throat was sore from crying. The smell of alcohol on him filled your lungs as he kissed you. He wasn't completely drunk, but he was definitely more impulsive. You didn't have the strength to protest as he took off your clothes. You could only cry and apologize.

When you were naked, he took off his top and unbuttoned his pants. He hit your pussy with his hard cock a few times and fixed himself in your entrance. "You actually deserve me to fuck you like that. Dry and totally unprepared. No foreplay, no eating you out and putting you in the mood. Just me and my pleasure."

He pushed himself a little and listened to your painful sobs. He wasn't even inside yet. "What am I going to do with you huh? You deserve a good punishment, but I don't want your first time to be like this."

He gave a nervous laugh and pinched your cheeks. He leaned closer to your pursed lips and looked into your watery eyes. "Brat. You're so lucky that I love you."

The smell of alcohol was intense. He kissed your lips, then stepped back and cupped your breasts. He tortured your nipples with his tongue, sucked and made you scream. You didn't know how long he played with your breasts, but when he finally let go, your nipples were super sensitive. He gripped your legs aggressively and buried his head in your pussy. Tongue thrusts pointed straight at your sensitive spot. He was so intense that the feelings you didn't want started pouring into your body quickly. He lifted his head, put his hand there and rubbed it. "Already wet. You're a needy little baby and yet you're trying to escape from me."

He placed your legs on his shoulders and rubbed the tip of his cock against your slippery pussy. "I think this foreplay is more than enough for a naughty and liar princess like you."

You grabbed his shoulders as he pushed himself and begged him to stop. He was slow but you thought he wasn't slow enough. You were so scared, and it hurt so much the more he got inside. You sobbed pathetically as your walls clenched like crazy around him. "P-please don't!"

He threw his head back and moaned. "I can't believe I've delayed this feeling for so long." You could feel something dripping on the bed while he was moving at a slow pace. Probably blood?

"It hurts, I'm so scared daddy!"

Five kept moving and smacked you in the butt. "You should take your punishment like a good little girl."

Your grip was too small for his cock. You could actually feel your grip moving around him as he went in and out. Your cries were music to his ears, he didn't hear your beggings. He just moaned and watched how your breasts bounced with each his thrust. After a while he turned you around and pressed your face against the bed, lifting your butt. That's when he fucked you really hard. Clapping sounds filled the entire room, your skin burned so bad and Five's constant smacks didn't help your cries. Your voice was now rather low, like a pathetic whisper. A whisper that satisfied Five. He smacked your butt for perhaps the hundredth time and pulled your hair. He gave his drunk breath to your neck. "Who do you belong to?"

"To you, daddy."

"I'll paint your tight little walls with my hot cum, so maybe you'll know better who you belong to."

He let go of your hair and buried his fingers to your skin. He was so hard and fast that your moans were cut and you gasped. When he gave his final thrust, you listened his growls. You could feel him throbbing inside you, slowly pushing himself a few more times and grabbing your hair again, bringing his face towards you. He rubbed his teeth and licked your neck, placing watery kisses. After licking your cheek, he blew his hot breath and spoke breathlessly into your ear. "My naughty princess needs much stricter rules from now on."

There was no escape from him. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd have a life where you didn't end with him. Maybe there was a way to prevent his obsession from developing. Maybe he would leave you alone. But deep inside you knew, no matter what, he would still find you and get you.

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[makethatelevenrings]

One Star Review // J. Todd x gn!reader

Requested? Yes!

Warnings: injury, blood, medical talk

Summary: When working a late night shift at the drug store, a certain vigilante comes stumbling in with a stab wound and a bad attitude.

The bell over the door chimed, setting off your Pavlovian response to greet the incoming customer. By the time you raised your head, you found no one standing there. Peeking over the counter, you spied a trail of blood drops on the linoleum tiles and sighed.

Working at a twenty-four hour drugstore in Gotham was a guarantee for stories to bring home to your roommates, but the novelty had worn off by the third robbery. You wished you could say that random people stumbling in with injuries was rare, but you weren’t raised to be a liar.

“Hi, can I help you?” you called. A low curse met your ears and you moved out from behind the bulletproof glass covered desk to peer down the aisles. The trail led you towards the first aid section. Of course.

“Do you need help?” you tried again.

“Fuck off,” was your reply.

You huffed and turned around the end of the aisle to find Red Hood of all people leaning up against the shelves with one hand clasped over his side and the other full of various first aid items. Planting your hands on your hips, you stared at him with an unimpressed look on your face.

“This is my store, bitch boy. Don’t tell me to fuck off,” you snapped. “And sit down before you hurt yourself worse.”

“I’m gonna write a review,” he grumbled. “Terrible service. Employee called me a bitch boy.”

“Tough,” you said. You gestured for him to follow you over to a chair next to the blood pressure cuff. “Now move it.”

He sighed and maneuvered his large frame into the small chair. Red Hood pulled his hand away from his side and you could see the angry, pulsing wound under his destroyed body armor. A hiss of empathetic pain passed through your teeth and you leaned in closer to see it.

“Do you even know what you’re doing?” he snapped.

“Do you want to be a dick and bleed out or do you want help? Because you can’t do both.”

That shut him up, thankfully. You poured a glob of hand sanitizer on your hands and scrubbed it in before you pulled on a pair of the latex gloves from the box he grabbed. Gently, you pulled his ruined kevlar away from his skin and examined the wound.

“You got stabbed,” you noted. “Didn’t go too deep, luckily. Must have been a sharp knife to break through this material.”

“Assassins,” he muttered.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Grabbing the saline wash and some clean gauze wrappers, you ripped open the gauze and poured saline on it. Without giving him a warning, you pressed it against the wound. Red Hood, to his credit, barely flinched.

“I’m in an EMT class right now,” you explained. “I’ve always been interested in this stuff but shit, it’s expensive. By the way, you better be paying for this stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. Put it on my tab,” he said through gritted teeth.

The two of you fell into an easy silence as you packed his wound and applied a layer of thick gauze before taping it onto his skin. You tried to ignore the very pronounced dips of his abs, but how could you when they were right there? The second you were done taping down the edges, he was fighting to stand up.

“Woah,” you exclaimed. Your hands landed on his shoulders and you pushed him back into the seat. “You lost a lot of blood so I wouldn’t try to get up too quickly.”

“I need to get back out there,” he argued. “Thanks for the help, but you did your job. Now I need to do mine.”

Your face went deadpan and you stared at him with pursed lips and raised brows. “Okay, fine. But if you go out there and ruin my handiwork, you will have to live with the guilt of knowing that you were a dick to a retail employee.”

Red Hood’s helmet stared off into the distance for a moment before he grumbled out a “fine” and settled back in the chair. A triumphant smirk settled across your face and you started to gather up the trash you had tossed around you when patching him up.

“Let me grab you a juice and some crackers to help with your blood sugar. Any kind you want?”

He sighed. “Apple, please.”

When you returned to the back of the store, the chair was empty except for a single one-hundred dollar bill and a business card. The card was face down, blue ink marking the empty white space of the back.

Call her, it instructed. You flipped it over and read the name printed on the front. Dr. Leslie Thompkins.

“Huh,” you murmured to yourself. You were definitely telling your roommates about this the second you got home.

Tag List: @mcrmarvelloki​ @gone-batty-fics​ @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @kat-nee​ @khaylin27​ @igotanidea​ @princessbl0ss0m​

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood imagine #red hood

[makeyoumine69]

Sorry Not Sorry (commission)

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: After a rough scene outside the club, Patrick decides to teach you some manners in a pretty dangerous way, so the next time you will keep your mouth shut.

CONTAINS: Smut, mild dub-con, Daddy kink, Degradation kink (slut-shaming), oral sex (Patrick receiving), gun play, hitting, choking (on his dick lmao), cum swallowing, fingering, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, pet names, Dom!Patrick, hate sex (kinda).

WORDS: 1.7k

A/N: This is a commission for my dear @emmieson, thanks so much for asking me to write for you, I enjoyed every moment of it!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]💕

You knew that Bateman hated any sign of disrespect or bad attitude - he was the man of power who craved control as it was his most addictive drug - to have you on a short leash. But everyone and everything had its own limits, so when Patrick deliberately flirted with some random chick in the club that night, you didn't pretend to be okay with it, hell no.

After a brief argument outside the club, Patrick dragged you into the first cab he saw. The ride seemed to take forever as you were both so irritated and angry that the taxi driver had to turn around to make sure you were not going to destroy his car.

In the elevator, Bateman almost slammed you against the metal wall, his big hand wrapped around your throat. "You better keep your mouth shut or -"

"Or what?" You replied challengingly, clawing at his perfect skin, infuriating him even more. "You would kill me?"

With a low chuckle, Patrick tilted his head to the side for a moment before pulling you closer, his hot mouth just inches from yours. 

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, you little brat," his grip tightened, causing your heart to skip a beat. "And believe me - you don't want to know what I mean."

"Get off me!" You tried to break free, but it only encouraged him to hold you closer, the heavy scent of his perfume almost intoxicating. "If you think you can flirt with every bitch around - you're so fucking wrong!"

Bateman just grinned devilishly as the polished doors of the elevator opened on the right floor. Sniffing through his flushed nostrils, he grabbed you into his strong arms and pulled you out of the elevator, not missing a chance to nip at your neck to make you literally squirm.

"Such a stubborn girl," he growled while opening the door to his apartment. "Stay still or I'll fuck you right here," Pateman yanked you roughly, squeezing your hip painfully, you could feel his fingers digging into your tender skin. " Is that what you want?"

"N-no," you whimpered back and stopped wiggling. "It... it hurts, Patrick!"

His gruff chuckling echoed in your ears before you heard a loud click of the door lock and the next moment Bateman was pulling you into his apartment – when you were inside he finally let you go and  you almost fell to the floor at how unexpectedly he did it.

"God, you're a fucking maniac," you hissed, stroking your bruised wrist and catching your breath. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to go out with you tonight!"

Your out-of-control tantrum didn't seem to bother Patrick at all, as he just walked past you into his bedroom. For a brief moment you urged to follow him, but then you decided to stay in the living room. Panting, you sat down on the big white couch, which brought back so many memories of the amazing moments he had fucked you right there. 

"Patrick," you began without turning around to check on him, your hands nervously fiddling with the soft fabric of your dress. "I think we need to have a serious talk."

"Oh yeah?" His suddenly raspy voice sounded so mysterious, but you fought the temptation to look back. "You think so?"

With every soft footstep, your heart was beating faster, because there was something strange, even dangerous, in the way he spoke.

"Yes," you exhaled as he stopped just behind the couch. "Because... because you crossed the line and..."

A sudden touch of cold metal against your neck made you flinch, but just as you tried to identify what it was, Bateman grabbed your neck, anchoring you in place.

"Don't fucking move," he growled into your ear before tonguing the area around it. "You don't want to get a bullet, right?"

A bullet?

Swallowing hard, you wrinkled the cushion and closed your eyes for a second. "Pat-Patrick...w-what are you doing?"

"Uh, uh, no more ‘Patrick’," Bateman growled, tilting your head to the side so that the gun was now poking right at your throbbing artery. "Try again better."

"Ahhh," a muffled moan instantly fell from your dry lips as he slid his hand under your dress, his sneaky fingers masterfully teasing your hard nipple. "I'm... I'm sorry, sir."

"Get down on your knees," he lingered on the last word, savoring how helpless and vulnerable you were now. "Do it slowly."

Trembling visibly, you didn't dare to make him wait and just did what he asked, but you still couldn't believe that he was threatening you with a gun. 

"Good, good," Patrick crooned and walked around the couch, towering over you like a fucking mountain. "Now... I want you to open that pretty little mouth and show me your fucking sharp tongue that I sometimes want to rip out."

Despite all your efforts to convince yourself that this was just one of Bateman's wicked games, his words made your blood run cold, but worst of all, your body somehow found it arousing. After a short pause, you stuck out your tongue and looked up at him with the most natural devotion you could master. 

Bateman had no choice but to snicker. "You like being treated like that, don't you?" He asked, twirling the gun on his finger - a broad, vicious smile never leaving his perfect face. "Because you're a whore. A whore who likes to be degraded and ruined," he slowly brought the gun closer to your mouth until the barrel slid along your tongue. "'C'mon, I'm not gonna judge you," his mocking laughter only made your face burn from the inside, but when you saw him unbuckle his belt, you had to close your eyes to save whatever sanity you had left. "Lick it, slut. Polish it as if it were my dick."

There was no chance to disobey even if you wanted to, but you didn't because your body betrayed you once again - Bateman knew exactly how to push the right buttons so that in the end it was you who was yearning for more. 

Fucking bastard.

Without saying anything, you began to lap at the gun, closing your eyes in embarrassment, but he immediately yanked at your hair to force you to look at him, and once again you had to submit. 

"Dirty slut, look at you," Bateman taunted as he watched you attentively play with the gun while his free hand was busy warming him up, stroking his throbbing length with persistent movements. "Open it," his suddenly loud voice made you almost bite your tongue. "Open your fucking mouth so I can see it!"

Before you knew it, a hard, quick slap landed on your right cheek. "Sorry, I'm... I'm sorry sir..." you hiccuped, trying to hold back a sob, but in the next moment you were already thinking about how not to fucking choke on his huge dick that was brutally shoved down your throat without any warning. "Mmmhm..."

Seeing you gagging only inflamed his arousal, making him harder than ever and spurring him on to thrust into your mouth with all his might. Soon you would hear the thud of a falling gun as Patrick used both hands to grab a handful of your hair, almost winding it around his fist.

"Fuck," the man couldn't help but throw his head back, quickening the speed of his hips as they rammed into your face. "Your mouth feels so... fucking good."

Moaning around his meaty cock, you had to lean against his strong body to prevent yourself from choking, doing your best to breathe out through your nose, as shimmering tears finally ran down your strained face. As if that was not enough, Bateman abruptly pulled out with a loud pop before deftly picking you up and throwing you on the white couch behind you.

"A-aww, Daddy," you whimpered pitifully as he manhandled you so easily, his skilled hands finding their way under your skirt without any resistance, and in the next moment you were already shaking erratically from the pulsating, burning sensation in your lower body as Patrick moved your damp panties aside and pressed his thumb against your clit. "Mmhm...oh my goodness...I'm so wet...I'm so fucking wet!"

"Shut your mouth," Bateman grunted, squeezing your cheeks rather painfully while his long fingers explored your oozing folds with a sound so fucking lewd that it almost pushed you over the edge. "I didn't ask you to speak, you stupid little bitch!"

With a powerful thrust, the brown-haired man pushed his thick cock back into your mouth, not forgetting to play with your lascivious pussy, rubbing your little bud with fierce circular motions.

"Mhhhm, Daddy," you managed to moan when he gave you a short break. "Drown me in your cum, p-please."

At first Patrick just laughed, enjoying the sight of your dumb little face. "Shit, you're so pathetic." With that he gave your moist cunt a few light slaps, making you squirm on the couch as if you were lying on the burning coals. "So, you like to play dangerous, huh? Maybe next time I should fuck you with the handle of my favorite knife?"

As soon as you were about to refuse such an offer, he pushed himself back into your mouth, pinning you down with one hand at the nape of your neck and using the other to finger fuck you rather roughly as he twisted and curled his expert fingers to stimulate that exact spot in your womb that was making you convulse uncontrollably. The heat your bodies were radiating was about to melt the walls of the living room, not to mention the lewd sounds you were both making as you desperately crested your high. It didn't take long for you to fall apart first from the way his thin fingers worshiped your throbbing slit, Bateman joining you almost a few seconds later, feeling your inner soft walls clench around his digits making him cum even more vividly than usual.

"You're mine," Patrick groaned through his gritted teeth as he watched his sticky cum dripping down your chin. "You better fucking remember that whore. Remember...uh...who you belong to."

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (6)

remember how this installment was mostly fluff up until this point? we'll get back to that! 

... just not this chapter <3

part 2: how does a kid end up stranded in space, anyhow?

warnings: bad self care, illness, panic, child in distress, minor injury, non-consensual drug use, trafficking, unethical imprisonment and treatment of prisoners, child endangerment, implied offscreen minor character death, ambiguous character fates, this is a heavy tearjerker chapter but it does have a hopeful ending, lmk if i missed any

-

Virgil’s condition hadn’t improved.

They’d tried as many non-medicinal techniques as they could, struggling to figure out what would help and what would harm an unpredictable biological system that they barely understood.

Nothing had helped. Nothing was working.

And each time Virgil woke up to the sight of the ship around him, he wept and struggled and shouted, burning through his meager energy and only worsening his health.

He didn’t respond to heartfelt pleas from any of them, rarely even seeming to understand they were in the room with him. His stare was distant and terrified, his mind somewhere else, and each time it happened, Logan wanted to understand how to help so badly.

So, after several cycles without sleep and with the pressure of increasing desperation weighing heavy on his head, he finally succumbed to the deeply unwise impulse to start a Vidi.

He’d only wanted to understand what Virgil was yelling, try and grasp the reason behind his fear in the hopes that they could abate it, even slightly.

The moment he’d made contact, however, his mind had been dragged into a memory with intense force, the metaphorical handles of the Vidi ripped away, leaving him unable to steer and barely able to move.

His fingers twitched with the urge to pull away, but he stopped himself. It could hurt Virgil, and he’d endured plenty of traumatic memories before. He could handle this.

With a blink, he was looking through a much younger set of eyes.

—

The ship came during the summer.

Virgil remembered, because he’d been reviewing holidays and important events with his class before the break, and his half-birthday was coming up in a week!

His birthday was in winter, so his half birthday was in the opposite season, summer! He’d said as much before trying to debate his way into a trip to the park with his friends, and failing miserably.

So, he’d snuck out. And gotten himself lost between one turn of the neighborhood and the next.

He’d run into one of his neighbors, who’d been more than a little concerned to see him wandering around alone, especially because there had apparently been some people disappearing lately.

“Where did they go?” he’d asked, and gotten an uncomfortable reassurance, which definitely wasn’t an answer.

He’d frowned, tried to ask again, but his neighbor had gone quiet and grey-faced, staring at something over his shoulder. Before he could turn to see, there was a sharp thunk, and a bright bolt of pain in his shoulder.

There was a high, crackling scream, which was bad, but Virgil couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to figure out where it came from. A pair of warm hands caught him when he staggered, and then he was out.

He barely recalled what happened next, the memories fragmented like someone had taken a hammer to them. He didn’t want to think about them, but he kept the pieces close and tucked away anyhow, knowing they were important even though they hurt.

He felt flickers of awareness, the sensation of eyes rolling against heavy eyelids, a rapid pulse pounding away in his ears like a big drum, angry and fearful shouting barely audible beyond the clamor.

And then: the barest glimpse of the docking port of a ship from the inside, the entrance ramp folding up and sealing away the green trees and blue sky on the other side. Replacing the brief vision of home with cold metal and unearthly lights.

There weren’t any warm hands holding him, now.

His whimper turned nearly soundless on the way up his throat, but it drew the attention of his captors regardless.

A rush of unfamiliar language above him, another flood of numbness spreading through him, but even from that one fragmented moment, Virgil understood that they were taking him away.

Another blank period, like dipping one's head briefly underwater, and then he was waking up again.

“Easy, baby,” a familiar voice said, a hand stroking through his hair, slow and gentle. “You’re okay, you’re alright.”

“Miss Susan?” Virgil asked, and his voice came out small and crackling. He coughed, trying to force his crusted over eyelashes apart with a growing sense of panic.

“Hey, I need some water for the kid!” Miss Susan called lowly, before setting a hand against his back and helping him shuffle upright. “Take it slow, baby, don’t choke. There we go.”

Virgil opened his eyes and got his first look at the room he’d be stuck in for the next several months.

It was dimly lit, and smelled bad. The floor was metal, with a few thin stripes of grating, like a shower drain. The walls were made of tinted plastic and covered with sharp-edged wire netting, and there were a whole bunch of people inside with him and Miss Susan.

They all spoke to him at one point or another, but he only remembered some of their names. The thought made his stomach twist painfully, and he clamped down on the sensation.

He couldn’t be sick. Being sick was bad.

The time shifted, Miss Susan still at his side but her hair longer and her skin sallower. They were all seated, tired from the cold and the dark and the gross food that he wasn’t allowed to throw up.

Mister Ben was coughing, hard and rasping and wet, one after another. A few people were crouched near him, talking to him in hushed voices as they tried to coax him into stopping, but his body curled in and convulsed like he couldn’t control the coughs at all.

Before long, there was a clang, and a spraying sound like that time a fire hydrant down the road had been busted open. A few people stood between the door and Mister Ben, but the room grew more and more hazy with the thick air that made his legs go all numb, and they were swaying with the effort of staying upright.

Virgil knew by now what happened next. He turned and pressed his face against Miss Susan’s side, and she drew him close and held him tightly as the suits came in.

The aliens were always wearing them when they came into sight. Thick rubbery suits with dark-tinted visors, each with an electric zapper in hand. They’d drag the sick one out, and Virgil would never see them again.

“Leave him alone!” Miss Susan cried, joined by the rising voices of the rest of their roommates. “Don’t touch him, you leave him the fuck alone!”

Virgil kept not looking, but he said it too, into the worn fabric of Miss Susan’s blouse. “Leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone, don’t touch him, leave him alone…,”

It didn’t work. It never did. The aliens didn’t listen to them, and they made them weak and floaty if they tried to intervene.

His voice cracked as he kept repeating it, even as the door clanged again and the hiss of air stopped. If he didn’t look up, he could pretend that Mister Ben was still there, only quiet because he was all better from his cough.

"It's okay. I know. It's alright, honey." Miss Susan’s hands shook as they stroked carefully through his hair, soothing him to sleep through the last of his hiccuped sobs.

Everyone who spoke to him was kind, even when they were unhappy. When Miss Susan slept but he was awake, Mister Aaron would invent word games to play or Miss Kelsey would challenge him to push up contests, and they would all take turns trying to think of the worst possible combinations of foods to compare to their mush food.

The best was Miss Susan, though. When he was bored, she would tell him stories about her nieces and nephews, and the farm she grew up on, and silly people at her job before they got taken. When he couldn’t sleep, she would hum whichever parts of lullabies she could remember.

Even when he got sad and didn’t want to move or talk at all, she would hold him close and poke at his side and gasp about seeing the firefly that had snuck onboard with them, until he had no choice but to wiggle free and inspect every corner for its light.

The other adults would spot it every once in a while, too, and try to point it out to him. He never saw it, which he would report back to Miss Susan every time.

“Just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not there,” she’d tell him, waving at the dark ceiling of the room. “Glowbugs can’t be bright all the time.”

“Why not?”

“Well, they’d get too hot and sweaty. They’d have to go swim in the ocean, and then they’d probably all turn into anglerfish,” Miss Susan said, even though she hadn’t known what an anglerfish was until Virgil had told her everything he could remember about them.

“No way,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Bugs can’t turn into fish!”

“Maybe they just get too tired, then,” Miss Susan said, ruffling his hair. “It must be exhausting, being so bright.”

She went quiet for a moment, and Virgil leaned into her touch, squinting at the dark corners and willing the bug to show itself.

“Even when they’re blending in with the dark, though, they’re still there,” Miss Susan finally continued. “So don’t give up. You’ve just gotta trust in it, and eventually, you’ll spot it.”

“I want eventually to be now,” Virgil had responded, petulant as he flopped against her side, eyes growing heavy.

Miss Susan pet his head, humming quietly until he was almost asleep. She let out a big sigh, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. “You and me both, kid.”

And then it was the last day.

He knew because Miss Susan’s hands were carefully cupping his face, coaxing him into waking up with a careful tap to the nose. They never woke him up on purpose, because 'growing kids needed their rest', except for the last day.

Virgil felt his brow scrunch with confusion even before his eyelids started fluttering, and Miss Susan chuckled and pressed her lips to the crown of his head for a moment.

“Come on, baby, wake up. It’s important, okay?”

He forced himself to open his eyes and keep them open, a little unease running down his spine.

Everyone had been scared, lately. Their group had shrunk in number, their room had been moved onto a bigger ship, and there were distant sounds of crowds at all hours, making his skin prickle with nerves when he was trying to sleep.

Some of their roommates were really smart, and they’d started puzzling out the words of the alien language from the ship directions that were given over the intercom and the overheard conversations of those passing by or rudely peeking in at them.

They’d taught Virgil some of them, whenever he was awake enough to remember. The words they whispered now weren’t ones he’d learned yet, though.

‘Transfer’ and ‘auction’. Everyone disliked them, felt too upset or angry about them to explain, even Miss Susan. Or maybe they just didn’t want to explain them to him, like they wouldn’t tell him what the aliens did with people when they got taken away. There had been a lot of arguing and shouting in low voices, trying to keep him from overhearing.

But now, they were waking him up.

Virgil let himself be coaxed to his feet, following Miss Susan over to the corner where everyone stood in a huddle, the tallest of them on the outside.

“Okay, sweetie. I need you to listen to me very closely, alright?” she told him, turning him to face the corner where they usually kept extra clothes in a pile. “You’re going to have to be very brave for me, okay?”

The clothes had been moved. There was a hole in the wall, where the netting had been peeled back. The edges of it were rough and curved like they’d been made with fingernails, like it had been painstakingly carved through one scratch at a time.

It was a small hole, barely the size of a vent, or a cat flap. Virgil could probably fit through it, but he was the only one.

“No,” Virgil shook his head immediately. “I don’t want to! I’m scared.”

Miss Susan squatted to be level with him, holding his hand in hers. “I know, honey. But it’s important, okay? We’re going to get out and find you, but you have to go first and stay safe until we do. I’ll send our little glowbug with you, and it’ll light the way in the dark.”

“What about your dark?” Virgil asked, rubbing harshly at his stinging eyes.

Miss Susan softened, pulled his hand away and smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “Oh, baby. I’ve seen that glowbug a hundred times, here with you. I’ll be okay without it for a little while.”

Virgil turned to look at the hole again, imagining a little firefly crawling through with him so he wouldn’t be alone.

“Do you promise?” he asked, and Miss Susan pulled him into a hug so tight, it felt like it squished all the air from him.

“I promise,” she said, and her hands shook a little but her voice was steady. Virgil smushed his face against her shoulder for the last time.

“Okay. I’ll— I’ll go.”

The barrier of bodies around them seemed to relax, just slightly, though it still took Miss Susan a few moments longer to release him.

They told him everything he needed to know, everyone chiming in. That he had to run, as fast and as far as he could, and be sneaky and quiet when he was too tired to run. That he should find hiding places and hole up in them, wait until nobody was around to keep running.

That he should always hide from aliens, even if they weren't wearing the suits. That he should never let them see him, because they hated humans. That if they did grab him, he could do whatever he needed to do to get away.

“Just like stranger danger, right, buddy? You can bite, kick, scream, whatever you need to do.”

Virgil nodded, trying to push down the sick, stressed feeling in his gut, and when there was finally no advice left to give, he turned to the gash in the wall.

Wiggling through it was hard, because there were still sharp, poky bits that scratched at his skin and the inside of the wall was dark and stifling, but every time he wanted to stop, he could hear the encouragement of everyone else, who was still stuck inside.

There was a little bug with him, he reminded himself. If he closed his eyes and froze up, he wouldn’t ever be able to see it glow.

Finally, he squirmed free of the last few inches, dropping onto the floor of a very small dark room with shelves in it, like a linen closet. He turned back to face the hole, calling out, and Miss Susan reached an arm through.

He grabbed for her hand and pressed his face to it, clung to her for a long moment, his breaths stuttering as she cradled him the best she could.

There was a muffled clang, and Miss Susan ran her wavering thumb over his cheekbone one more time before pulling away.

“Run, Virgil. Now. Run!”

So he did.

He ran and hid, just like they told him, but he picked the wrong place to hide because it was part of another ship, and it took him far away. He kept running, pulled himself into tiny little nooks on spaceship after spaceship, snuck food wherever he could get it and only ever whispered to his invisible firefly.

Eventually, he left a ship and there were no other ships around to board, only the wide landscape of a different planet, full of weird trees and weird animals and a weird town that he fled from. No more ships came, and that was fine because he didn’t want to run anymore. He wanted to stay and wait for them to find him.

He laid on his back and faced the sky, searching for a sign that they were coming. He was hungry and tired and lonely.

The stars above looked just like fireflies, hundreds of them. Enough for all of them to watch together. Except there wasn’t a ‘them’. It was only him.

Virgil felt his face growing hot, his throat closing up at the thought. It was too frightening to be alone.

No, he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t. He had their firefly with him, somewhere next to him in the grass.

“Just because I can’t see them, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” Virgil said to himself sternly, and rolled back to his feet.

He would find something to eat, somewhere to sleep, and he would wait. They would find him. They would find him. They would…

—

When Logan finally eased the mental connection closed and pulled himself free, he found there was a low, buzzing keen building in the back of his throat. The sort of sound he hadn’t made since he himself was a child.

Virgil still lay there unconscious, but his cheeks were shiny and damp with tears. Logan reached out, ignoring the heat radiating from the pupa’s skin, and gently smoothed a narrow finger over his cheek, wiping the wetness away as best he could.

It didn’t do much, but the crinkle in Virgil’s brow seemed to ease just slightly at the sensation.

Roman paced by again, pausing at the sight. “Specs? Is the kid alright? …Are you alright?”

Logan wondered what Roman would think about the fact that Humans and Crav’n had more in common culturally than he would have ever guessed. That an entire group of Humans had given up their only boon for the slim chance of getting the only child present to safety.

No time to waste, now. That conversation would have to wait until they’d launched.

“Let Patton know we’re leaving, and meet me in the navigation area,” he instructed, already turning to leave. “I’m going to clear our landing area for departure.”

“What— I thought we agreed it was a bad idea to actually leave?” Roman asked, glancing between Logan and Virgil with visible worry.

“It’s a worse idea to sit here and wait,” he replied firmly, and then he was down the hall and out the hanger door, ignoring the shiver of secondhand trepidation that Virgil’s mind had left in his.

He circled the ship, placing the warding discs that would keep their launch area organism-free down one by one, and then paused at the sight of a familiar creature standing by the main entrance hatch.

It was a Humlilt, one with a distinct little white splotch on its head. Logan was fairly certain that it was the one who had stood between them and Virgil during their second meeting, the most loyal of the bunch, only proved further by the way it had been waiting outside the ship since Virgil had been taken aboard.

Logan was also fairly certain that Virgil had named this one Susan, after his neighbor. The Human who’d taken care of him, in those memories.

“You’ve taken care of him, too, haven’t you?” he asked, still far too affected by the painful sympathy that had washed over him post-Vidi.

The Humlilt stamped a hoof and trumpeted at him warningly as he neared, still obviously holding a grudge at them for stealing Virgil away.

Logan attempted to rationalize himself out of the decision he was about to make, and utterly failed.

—

It took some digging and reaching out to a few of Logan’s less savory contacts, but the ship was on its way to a waypoint station that was rumored to have a Human expert in residence. It could have been a trap, a lie meant to lure interested parties into an attack, but they were going to have to risk it.

The three of them had all agreed to the plan. They wouldn’t be able to live with themselves otherwise.

Now that they were in transit, Logan sat down with his two closest friends, and began to explain just what he’d learned about their kid.

A few rooms down in the medical bay, a half-conscious Human reached out a feverish hand and found a small, fluffy presence curled up at his side.

The Humlilt crooned a few notes, sounding just like the aimless lullabies its namesake used to hum.

For the first time since boarding the ship, Virgil breathed a little easier.

#wibar #ts logan #ts virgil #ts patton #ts roman #space au #humans are deathworlders #teoba #the end of being alone #mind the warnings #writing #my writing

[toji-bunny-girl]

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐑 !!

🕷️ CHARACTERS— jock!itadori yuuji x fem!reader x best friend!fushiguro megumi

🕷️ SUMMARY— what started as the worst halloween party you’ve ever gone to ended up in a night you could never in your wildest dream imagine to happen

🕷️ WORD COUNT— 4.5k BABYYYY

🕷️ CONTENT WARNING— swearing, drink spiking, harassment, drugs, halloween frat party, mahito, college au, overprotective and possessive megumi, noncon, overstimulation, dumbification, mmf threesome, marking and hickeys, pet names, praising, oral sex, fingering, clit sucking, double penetration, squirting

KINKTOBER 2022 MASTERLIST

🕷️ A/N— bitch wouldn’t show up in the tags no matter how many time I’ve posted this 👹👹 hopefully it works this time enjoy 💕

Come on! Just relax, have fun,” the male dropped the weight of his arm on your shoulder, body leaning too close to you for your comfort as he whined, eyes training at your cleavage from his taller height.

You hardly knew this man—who introduced himself as Mahito just less than 20 minutes ago and somehow, you found yourself sitting on the couch at the corner of the party along with his friends, unable to find a way to escape from him as he gets all handsy with you.

Nobara had left to use the bathroom just before he dragged you all over there to his group and your other friends are nowhere to be seen, so you couldn’t leave without any help from them. And not to forget that you even promised Megumi you’d wait for him at the front door and Mahito was making things harder for you.

Frustration and annoyance only continued to flare up in your chest the longer you were stuck with him and his half–drunk friends who couldn't even care less about what he was doing.

“I’m sorry but I really have to go right now, please,” you couldn’t handle any second of it anymore, finally breaking the thought of staying polite after his hand crawled up to rest on your thigh. Swiping his hand off of you, disgust glared from within when his friends simply laughed at the seeming amusement you showed while Mahito chuckled as if it was nothing.

“Aww, but I really want to hang out with you,” he teased with that sly smirk brushed across his lips, trying to catch your eyes but you never even bothered to return a single look.

“Too bad I have to leave now,” placing the half–filled drink he gave you on the small coffee table in front of the couch, you pulled yourself up from your seat, leaving an empty spot beside Mahito.

“Ah, you didn’t finish your drink, (Y/N),” he called out, the alcohol now in his hand swirling inside the paper cup as you noticed how the group’s eyes were on you; staring for some reason.

“Does it matter?”

“Nah, it’d be easier for me if you finished it.”

Fucking weirdo, you thought, before you turned to leave, catching the sight of his close–eyed grin and waving hands.

Megumi had left your last message on seen when you checked your phone, making you sigh at his usual manner. A message to distract you from your previous scare would be nice in the least.

The night was chilly when you left the party, the fresh air from the house cramped with dancing bodies that made it a little hard to breathe. The time showed 9 and you still couldn’t find Megumi anywhere outside the front yard or the gates. Perhaps he had already gone inside the party without telling you but you didn’t have the energy to join in just yet. Mahito seemed to have sucked them all out previously.

Otherwise to the muffled music blasting from inside the house and the soft chatters of the few standing in the yard, you thought the moment was still for a second; calm and silent for a night of partying. Then all of a sudden, a single ding from your phone ticked against your eardrums and your heart slightly jumped from the sound.

‘Sorry I’m going to be a little late’

Megumi’s notification appeared on the screen and your tummy did a little flutter at his name before you tapped into his message, thinking hard about how you should tell him about the stranger you just met without him yelling at you to go back home at that moment.

He had already managed to stop you from wearing that bunny costume you were going to match with Nobara at the party all because it was too revealing, lecturing you about the types of guys hanging around at parties and he wouldn’t hesitate to drag you home himself if he knew about what happened.

Your halloween night was already half–ruined by Mahito and you couldn’t finish it off by being stuck at home instead of having fun with everyone else from campus all because of Megumi’s odd protectiveness.

After spinning your head for a few long seconds, you figured it would be best for your circumstances to tell him about it after the party ends; it would be too late for him to do anything anyway. So you simply sent an ‘okay’ before being left on seen once again, letting out a sigh as you waited.

One by one the people outside started to join the party again, leaving you alone sitting on the porch stairs and listening to the lazy croaks of the cicadas and the muffled blasting from the house. With each passing moment, each slipping second and minutes spent just sitting there waiting, you grew more and more impatient, tired of waiting for the male who didn’t seem to be appearing no matter how long of a time you gave him.

9:33 was the point when your body started sweating and your head started spinning—perhaps getting light from irritation and you simply gave up waiting any longer; you had your other friends waiting inside and you desperately needed a drink anyway.

Just as you attempted to balance up onto your feet with hands gripping the stair railing, you thought you heard a familiar voice greeting from behind you, tone annoyingly playful.

“Ah! So you haven’t left, I see,” turning your head around, you’re met with that stitch–face once again.

“Frankenstein is back, huh?” you let out a groan as your lightly rolled your eyes, trying not to add to the pain behind them while you lean your weight against the railing.

“Don’t be like that, you’ll hurt my heart!”

“What do you want? Just leave me alone, dude.”

“Well, you don’t look so good, do you?”

“I mean, if you’d be so kind to leave, I would be in a much better state, to be honest.”

“You’re mean, you know that?” Mahito took a few steps towards you before his grip caught your arm and a laugh escaped his lips.

“Get the fuck away from me—” you tried to shove him away though your strength was nothing but tenuous compared to the frisky male. Even he acted hurt just to mock you, ignoring your demurs and inhaling sharply through his teeth as he clutched his chest and pulled you with him.

All it took was a single blink and you’d already found yourself inside the party house, the smell of spilled beer and sweat punching your nostrils as Mahito dragged you through the crowd of dancing drunks.

The crowds seemed to grow when you felt Mahito’s hold ripped away from your arm—sticky bodies started bumping into you from every angle once you’ve lost your source of walking support; causing you to tumble back into someone when a body accidentally shoved itself towards your front.

A choked cough came from behind you as you tried to stabilise yourself on your two feet before turning your head to face the stranger, rubbing your eye with the side of your hand as you sniffled, trying to think up an apology through the growing dizziness in your head.

“Hey, ya’ fine?” the stranger questioned, giving you a hand after watching you struggle for a second, and almost instinctively, your fingers grabbed onto his support.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you tried to speak through the music and noisy revelry. Though you’re simply met with a ‘huh?’.

Just as you prepared to squeeze your way out of the middle of the crowd, you caught a glimpse of Mahito’s blue hair and a swift idea quickly swiped through your head—perhaps this person could help you in dealing with that persistent male and you’ll be able to go back home safe.

“Hey—!”

“Hey—!” both you and Mahito synchronised at the same time, his attention on you while yours on the new hope you’re gripping onto. The stitch–face immediately wore a look of realisation the moment he registered the scene. And he wasted no time in grabbing your arm and tugging you to him, praying that you wouldn’t cause any scene before he caught you again.

As though he could sense something was wrong, the other male held you surprisingly sturdy at your spot, unwilling to let Mahito take you away from his side.

“Ya’ sure you’re fine?”

“I’m her friend—“

“I’m asking her though,” the stranger cut Mahito off before turning to face you, hands held tight with yours.

“Shit you’re my friend, leave me alone,” if your words weren’t enough to show your hostility towards the male, the evident glower on your face could speak just enough for you. Plus the stare the cop–uniformed male bore into his skull must’ve stroke something in him that he was finally willing to walk off, chuckling under his breath as he shook his head.

“Woah, what a weirdo, right?”

“Thanks for your help…”

“Itadori Yuuji!”

“Thanks, Itadori,” you smiled at him before you let his name sink into your mind and you snapped clear at who he really is—Itadori Yuuji, the hot jock freshman who’s already popular all throughout campus and fuck did he live up to the words.

“Do you need like, help with anything else? I can drive you back home if you’re okay with that.”

“Yeah, but I really need a drink first,” you chuckled.

“There’s a drink station somewhere there, I'll bring ya’?” the sunshine-smile of his pierced through your heart just like a spear after his words and there was no way to turn him down after he has used that infamous smile on you. So you almost instantly nodded your head at him, a gentle heat resting across your cheeks.

Itadori managed to pave a way through the crowd, nearly everyone saying a 'hi' or giving him a nod as he walked passed them. It would be much tougher for you to leave if it wasn't for him, you'd admit.

The drink station he had mentioned was just outside at the backyard, also filled with people all around and you saw a few making out in the pool. Though you quickly whipped your head towards Itadori when offered a plastic cup of drink to you, an obvious glow of heat on your face.

“So, you never told me yer’ name,” he glanced over to you as he took a sip of his drink, leaning his back against the wall.

“I'm (Y/N).”

“And what are you supposed to be?” he jokingly teased as he pointed at your outfit—a simple last minute choice of a crop top and a miniskirt. And you surely wouldn't be standing there being asked that question if it wasn't for Megumi.

“A college girl on a normal day, I guess.”

“Original. I'll give ya’ that.”

“Thanks. Well, your costume looks great too,” you cocked your head to the side while you checked him out from head to toe. A police cap sitting on the pink mess of his hair with the short sleeves of the uniform tight around his brawny arms and a handcuff hanging from his pocket; you weren't lying with your words in the slightest.

His eyes caught yours when your sight trailed back up to his face, a slight spark of desire flickering in his brown orbs and you’re sure the same burn could be seen over your features. And as though something had pumped through your veins, disregarding your senses urging you to catch onto your wants—your lips were on Itadori’s in a swift moment.

There was a pause in him before his lips moulded into you, tasting you in his mouth as his hand moved your face closer to him by the back of your head.

You’re not even sure how things were heading so fast, something inside of you acting on your wants and only your wants and there seemed to be no way in taming the blaze from within; your body was simply acting on itself.

But you weren’t going to lie about how good it felt with his larger hand resting on the back of your head, your tongues snaking and tasting one and another in a seemingly never–ending game.

Your vision started to blur when your lips parted, the air between the two of you warm with your puffs as you began sweating from the heat; your head feeling heavy for some reason.

“Hey…don’t you think it’s getting really hot here?” you breathed, hands holding onto his as you spoke.

“We can go into a room if you like?” his fingers were on your cheeks, rubbing the few wild strands of your hair between his two digits. And wordlessly, you nodded.

The painfully aggressive beats of the music definitely didn’t help in the gradual pounding of your head once you entered the house again. It was as if explosions were going off with each loud pump of the speakers and you didn’t even have the energy to pull yourself away from everything, starting to let the queasiness catch up to you.

Itadori was speaking with one of his friends and you didn’t catch what they were saying over the music so you stood there waiting for a few seconds before he’s back again, this time leading you to one of the rooms in the hallway.

You half–expected to see a couple naked inside the room when the door threw open and the light flickered on—but the bedroom was empty to your realisation; rare in a party this big and you guessed the house had many other rooms occupied instead.

Then with not a second wasted, your lips were back on each other again; this time hungrier for more. His hands were no longer resting shy on the back of your head or face, now feeling over the curve of your ass and the skin beneath your shirt.

His fingers were more calloused than you would have thought, roughened up throughout the years of sport and goosebumps rose all over your skin with his touch.

The dizziness in your head seemed to have cooled down once you had made it to the bed, Itadori straddling over you while his hands worked on lifting your top off of your head, leaving only your bra on.

“Hey, you okay?” he lightly shook your arm, watching the way your head lolled to the side and your eyes growing heavier with each blink. It took a while for you to get his words, each letter leisurely dropping into your ears and you paused for a while before faintly nodding at him, fingers tugging his hair to pull him back to your lips.

Your eyes shut close when you felt his hands coming up to cup your breasts, clipping your bra off as his mouth trailed down your chin to your neck, lightly picking at your skin with his teeth before sucking on the spots, making you slip out a few moans from his doings.

Then just as another mewl was about to leave your lips when his fingers played at your buds, he swallowed them into his mouth before sucking on your lower lips. And you realised that your body was his already plaything, too pleasurable to move, enjoying every single brush of his fingers against your body before you thought you caught the sound of the door slamming shut all of a sudden.

“Fushiguro?” Itadori called out in both confusion and surprise, whipping his head around to the male standing perhaps even more shocked at the door.

You were beneath Itadori, looking as if you’ve passed out or intoxicated with something with your body half–naked and neck marked in bites. It took a few long moments for Megumi to gather his mind and the first thought that came to his head was to kill his friend.

“Fuck are you doing, Itadori?!” the male yelled, furious and ready to throw a punch as he gripped onto Itadori’s collar. Though his irate attention slipped for a second when you let out a kind of groan, bringing his eyes to the puffiness of your reddened lips and bare breasts.

“Megumi…?” there was no way to deny the boner growing in his pants with the way you speak his name and the state you’re in—you looked so fucking hot.

“Calm down, man. It’s not like you’re her boyfriend, right?”

“What did I say about not to fuck with her?” Megumi threw a glare before pushing the other male off of you, cupping and lifting your face up to find the whites of your eyes red just like what he expected; you must’ve been either drinking too much or drugged.

Taking his jacket off, Megumi covered your upper body with it before Itadori stopped him, “You’re not leaving with her, right?”

“It has nothing to do with you—”

“Don’t you see this chance?” a glint of idea flashed through Itadori’s eyes; temptation and Megumi knew that whatever he was going to spew out wouldn’t be anything good. “She’s like, I don’t know—I think someone drugged her or something. So why not…”

“You’re fucking with me.”

“Kugisaki told me you like her, but—”

“You’re speaking nonsense,” Megumi cut before another groan left your lips, and god you had no idea how pretty you were in his arms, intoxicated and vulnerable to any lecherous man he had always warned you about.

She won’t even know.

It wasn’t Itadori’s voice that was luring him into the sinful thought of succumbing to his perverted desire—it was his own voice attempting to entice himself.

Isn’t this what you’ve always wanted?

All those fucking years.

There was a push inside his chest that made him near your face, merely less than an inch away from your lips; the same lips that he had always thought about giving even the slightest kiss. And when you yourself, in your fuzzy state closed the space between the two of you, Megumi swore his heart was trying to dig out of his ribs, pounding and beating inside of him.

You tasted even better than he had thought, the tingles in his spine spreading throughout his whole body until everything on his mind was you and your sweetness, tongue exploring your wet cavern and pulling every moan left in the back of your throat.

Fingers playing at the hemline of your skirt, he finally gathered enough courage to let them slither down to your inner thigh, plump and smooth beneath his fingertips as he drew circles on your skin.

Megumi jolted up when you let out a quiet squeal at the touch of your clit through your damp panties and the sudden suck of your mounds. Impatient as ever, Itadori playfully smirked at him when the ebony–haired glanced down over to your chest.

Bitterness and irksomeness loaded inside of him just at the sight of Itadori touching your body but he knew he didn’t have any right to kick him out of the room considering the fact that he was the one who gave the idea of such twisted pleasure.

Pushing your panties to the side, Megumi let a finger dip into your pussy, wet and dripping with arousal as you whined for more—greedy to feel his fingers reaching deep in your cunt.

Both of their cocks twitched when the squelching of your pussy filled the room as you clenched onto Megumi’s long fingers each time he rubbed deep inside your folds, his mouth now latching onto your clit; sucking and circling the hardened bud while Itadori eats up the messy moans out of your lips.

“Mm—I think 'm gonna cum!” you gasped against Itadori’s lips, clamping Megumi’s head between your thighs while he continued sucking on your clit, pumping his length in and out of you as your hands tried to push his head away and your hips buckled away from him. “N–No, no, no more!”

“Shh, it's okay. Just be good,” Itadori cooed at you, locking both of your hands together with the handcuffs in his pocket before caressing the side of your face with his palm.

“Please—'m gonna cum again!” beads of tears drew from the edges of your eyes while you pled and whined. They were lucky the music outside was loud enough to drown out your cries or else someone might’ve come in to catch a glimpse at you.

Your body jerked up when the second gale of pleasure burst through your tummy, your essence gushing all over Megumi’s chin which finally made him release your clit with a surprise.

“Fuck, man. You made her squirt?” Itadori laughed, watching the way Megumi’s face grew into a shade of red as his chin glistened under the light, your wetness dripping off of his chin before he rubbed them off with the sleeves of his sweater.

“No shit, you got protection?”

“There’s only one in my wallet,” silence ensued after Itadori’s reply. “I think.”

Itadori wasted no time scrambling to take out his wallet, searching through it to find one inside—and another at the back pocket of it, relieving the both of them from the scare before the pink–haired handed one to Megumi.

“Double?” a question from one and a nod from the other.

Your breathing evened when the two of them left your body alone to speak whatever you couldn’t register and all of a sudden, you were pulled up to a sitting position by your arm before Megumi’s lips crashed against yours.

You could feel yourself still slightly sensitive from your previous orgasm, pussy warm and dripping wet when Itadori’s fingers played with your clit from behind, “No more…please.”

”But we haven’t had our fun yet,” his fingers now trailed up to your hips as he busied his lips with peppering kisses on your nape and back.

“I’ll go easy,” a sharp gasp jumped out of your throat just as Megumi finished his sentence, cock slipping into your warm cunt as he held back a groan.

His years of wet dreams about the look on your face when he first enter your pussy and the late–night thoughts of how you’d beg for his cock while he fucked his fist came down now—your glistening eyes widened and plump lips trembling in the slightest.

“Fuck—so pretty…so tight,” Megumi’s voice shook a little as he buried himself inside of you, inhaling the smell of your hair as his hips paused into a stop for you to get used to his size. All the girls he had fucked never felt better than you, his pretty best friend with her pretty little cunt, and it took everything in him to stop himself from coming right there.

Another cry left your lips when Itadori lifted your leg up and entered his cock into your cunt, your forehead threw forward to rest on Megumi’s collarbone as you sob about how full you were.

“Too much! Too full!” your cries were only met with a peck of Megumi’s lips, kissing away a trail of a tear off of your cheek before slowly moving his hips.

“You can take this, right?” his voice soothed the panic inside of you as his hand stroked your head, his dark irises showing the gentle reflection of yourself, and without even thinking, you nodded at him.

Itadori’s pace was faster than Megumi’s, unsteady, or that he tried to hold himself back but failed. The tightness and friction in your pussy were overwhelming for him—it felt too good to keep himself back, and eventually, he greedily pistoled into you with each push harder and faster.

“Oi, Itadori w–wait!” his friend called his name out, trying to stop him but it was no use and both you and him are turning into a moaning mess, your eyes shedding tear after tear while Itadori’s hands gripped onto your hips as he fucked your cunt. The sight was fucking hot, hotter than he’d imagined and Megumi figured you’re going to be fine if he starts moving faster anyway.

So with his lips reassuring you that you’d be fine, he sped up his pace and watched the way your face turned into a pretty sob, attempting to squirm out between the two of them but it was simply all useless and you were at the mercy of them.

The slight ache of their cocks abusing your hole only added to the pleasure, making your cunt clench around the both of them and earning swears and grunts.

“C–Cumin’! M’cumming—!” your muscles tensed up tight as you cried and you don’t even know whose cock is whose anymore, your head only filled with the thoughts of how good it felt.

“Yeah? Fuck—cum for us, princess,” Itadori bit his teeth into the skin of your shoulder as his fingers played with your sensitive nipples, his words turning into a trigger as you came—twitching dumbly between them.

“Shit—ngh, such a good girl,” Megumi could already feel himself close and he was sure he was going to cum when your pussy squeezed their cocks, your body already limp in his arms, succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing whites.

“Gonna cum too, haah,” Itadori snaked his arms around your waist, tightening them as he rutted into your cunt, the friction making Megumi’s cock pulsing and throbbing.

“S–Stop going so rough—” the dark–haired was cut off by the sudden loud squeal of yours, your pussy squirting out your essence onto their thighs and catching them by surprise before Itadori finally came, hard as his arms tightened around you even more.

“Fuck, did she just squirt again?” Itadori panted, reaching his hand over to grab your face before turning it to look at you. Your eyes were glossy with tears, your orbs hazy–looking and drool was seeping out from your lips; and without a doubt, they knew they’ve fucked you dumb.

The pink–haired put a thumb into your mouth and almost instinctively, you began twirling your tongue around the digit, sucking on it as you lightly moaned on his finger while Megumi bounced you on his cock. The sight only brought him to his orgasm, his seed shooting spurt after spurt in your warm cunt and he swore he never had a better orgasm.

Otherwise to the muffled music from out the door, the three of your panting filled the warm room, your bodies sticky and the bed damp from sweat and cum.

This is bliss, Megumi thought. His pretty best friend on his chest with her pretty little cunt twitching from his cock before Itadori poked his head over yours, another familiar glint flashing across his eyes.

“We can totally pull–out, right?”

© toji-bunny-girl ― all rights reserved. do not modify, translate, plagiarise or repost my work

#BUNN—nsfw #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kiasen smut #itadori x reader #itadori x you #itadori yuuji #itadori smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #megumi smut #megumi x reader #anime #manga #smut

[ahdraftingco]

pairing: hard dom!joel miller x desperate!reader

ao3 crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44445643

rating: explicit (minors DNI)

word count: 7.8k+

summary: joel is your only hope, unfortunately. you and him aren't on the best of terms…not after you left him for dead during a smuggling run. but, he's the only one you can turn to when there's no one left in your life that gives a fuck, so you swallow your pride and ask for help from the man who hates your guts. 

a/n: as always please read through ALL the warnings before proceeding: porn with plot, **dubious consent**, hard dom!joel miller, enemies to lovers, heavy angst (be ready for feels!), age gap, jealousy, possessive behavior, size difference, breaking and entering, use of the words "sir"/"princess", dom/sub undertones, death threats, degradation, spit, praise kink, forced orgasms, squirting, spanking, bdsm, choking, knife play, unprotected piv, breeding kink, body worship, minor injuries/scars, hair-pulling, alcohol mention, drug abuse (sleeping pills), hurt/comfort, no use of y/n 

enjoy this little one-shot I whipped up in the moment! it's been raining and I love the idea of being stuck in the rain with nowhere else to go except to your worst enemy's home ;) have a fun read! 

｡ﾟ🌨｡ ﾟ ｡⋆ ﾟ petrichor (n.): the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil ｡ﾟ🌨｡ ﾟ ｡⋆ ﾟ 

You're about to do something very stupid. Though, it's not like that's atypical for you. You're used to doing impulsive things, but this…this is just downright idiotic. 

Breaking into Joel Miller's apartment in the middle of a hurricane may take the cake of shit you really should not do in your lifetime. You reason to yourself that you'll hide there until you dry off and then you'll find some other place to fuck off to. He should be asleep so you'll have at least a few hours if he took the pills. He loves those pills. They're the only thing that will get him to sleep. 

You remember being on the road with him, out to pick up the very pills he was used to taking and smuggling them back. To think, he actually lived after you left him for dead. In your defense, you're younger and the moment those slavers caught up to him, you weren't going to stop running in hopes of saving him. 

You both were only business partners, anyways. You were the liaison, he was the muscle. That's all you were. Nothing else. 

Even the few times you both were bored out of your minds, waiting for a contact, the sex was to kill time. It wasn't bad, but there wasn't any feeling in it. Neither of you can feel much. You've lost enough and so has he. You both kept your distance from getting too close and that's why it worked, your little partnership.

That is, until you left him for dead. 

Ever since he managed to get back, you haven't taken a single big smuggling job. You've completely cut yourself from the network because you don't want to deal with the wrath of Joel Miller. You settled for solo trips between cities to deliver smaller items, like letters between loved ones. The work didn't pay well and it was dangerous, but it was all you could do in the meantime. 

You heard Joel was heading out of town for some job and he won't be back for a long while. That'll be when you can reintegrate yourself into the smuggling scene, without the fear of being murdered by him.

You've spent so much time avoiding him, and now you're about to throw all that away because you're fucking freezing your ass off in the pouring rain and you need a place to go that isn't flooded. All your usual spots are filled to the brink with water and you haven't had your own place in quite some time. Rent is too expensive and you don't need a space to call your own anyways.

Back to the matter at hand, this isn't the first time you've snuck into Joel's apartment. 

You've done it three times. 

The first time, it was to steal some of his booze. It was a long day with no pay at the end of it because your contact fucking cheaped out and got killed so you needed a drink and you weren't going to ask him for one. Steal first, beg for forgiveness later, though he never did find out.

The second time, you needed some pills. Sure, you could buy your own, or pocket a few on your runs, but you knew Joel kept the good shit for himself, so you snatched some and replaced them with counterfeits. They weren't going to kill him. Or, well, they didn't. You weren't actually sure if they were safe or not, but at that moment, you didn't really care. 

People die all the time. What's one more death? 

As for the last time you snuck into his apartment…it's the reason why you would never want to do it again. It didn't feel good. You can't explain it but you forgot why you were there in the first place the moment you saw Joel and Tess together. You watched from the fire escape outside the bedroom window as Joel held her more tenderly than he has ever held you. You wondered then if she meant something to him. 

You wondered then if you ever meant something to him. 

Maybe that's why you left him for dead. He didn't need you. He had Tess. You had no one but yourself to protect. 

You hope—prayed—Tess wasn't there now. You don't know what you'd do if she was. 

Could you still sneak in, or would seeing them together again break you once more? 

You don't understand why it pains you as much as it does. Envy, you think, that must be it. You envy that Joel has someone he can hold like that, someone who can hold him like that, while you're all alone, cold and soaked in the rain. 

You're sick and tired of this fucking rain, so you decide to say fuck it and sneak in. 

If Tess is there, so be it. You'll live. Maybe. 

With a quick spin of your lockpick, you easily get the bathroom window open, sliding quietly inside. The apartment is still and silent, so you're certain they're asleep if they are here. You take the moment to strip your clothes off, half because they're wet beyond salvageability, half because they'll be too loud for you to sneak into Joel's closet to take some spare clothes. 

You dry yourself off with what you assume must be his towel because it smells musky with a hint of cigarettes and whiskey. You then make your way out of the bathroom, opening the door as slowly as you can so that it doesn't creak. It's fucking cold since you're completely naked, but you fight back the shivers as you tiptoe into the living room. 

You hold in a sigh of relief when you see the bed is empty and Joel is asleep, alone, on the couch with an empty glass of whiskey on the table near him. He's knocked out. You should be fine for a few hours, like you predicted. 

You still keep your guard up, being as stealthy as possible as you rummage through his closet for something to wear. You manage to find a shirt and some sweats that fit you decently and socks. You're very thankful for the socks. 

Now, all you have to do is decide where you're going to hole up for the next few hours. You contemplate laying underneath the bed. You doubt Joel will check there for any reason and that way, you could maybe get some sleep since you'd be on your back. But, it's a bit too risky.

You could hang out in the closet, but he might need to look through it, so that's not the best option. Same goes for the bathroom. You'd have to be ready in case he needs to piss. 

So, you throw the idea of sleep out the window. You just need a place to chill and not get caught. 

Easier said than done, because the moment you decide to hide in the bathroom closet, arms wrap around your body and slam you to the hallway floor. 

You spit out the word "fuck" as you try to get yourself back up, but then you feel a knife press against your neck, sobering you up from the pain real fast. Joel holds you down with his entire body, consuming you completely as he towers over you like a wild beast.

"Don't fucking move or I'll slit your throat, princess." Joel's southern accent has such a bite to it that you get more goosebumps than when you were cold.

"Alright." You stay completely still as you tell him, "I just need to stay until the rain stops, then I'll go. I won't bother you again, Joel. I promise." 

"You've done enough bothering as it is." There's a tinge of anger in his tone and you know why it's there. "Why are you even here? Ain't you got somewhere else to be?" 

You slowly shake your head then admit, "I had nowhere else to go. Everywhere's flooded."

"What happened to your place?" He knew you back when you had one. Probably assumed you still had it. 

"Couldn't afford to keep living there. Haven't had a place of my own in a while." You don't know why you're being honest to him, but you're hoping it'll build some rapport so that he'll get off of you. "Will you please put the knife away?" 

"You aren't in a position to make demands." He presses the knife further into your neck with those words, the blade cutting into you just enough for you to really feel it. "You've got some fucking nerve, breaking into my place and stealing my clothes."

"I'm sorry, Joel." You're starting to feel the air sting the cut on your neck and you bite back a wince as you plead, "I really didn't have anywhere else to go. I just wanted to get out of the rain. You weren't even supposed to know I was here."

"You think I didn't know?" It sounds like you've ticked him off more with that. "I've let you steal from me enough times, but this time, you aren't getting away with it, princess."

This is news to you. "You…knew?" 

"You don't think I keep track of my whiskey and my pills?" He scoffs, irritated that you thought he wasn't going to notice. 

Then what about…you don't ask. You can't bring yourself to. 

If he knew you were there when he was with Tess, then Joel did it on purpose. He wanted you to see them together. He wanted you to suffer and yearn for a moment you could never have. Fucking asshole.

"You had plenty and you know it's hard for me to get shit." You retort, not allowing him to act so high and mighty. "They don't give a fuck about selling you alcohol or drugs because you're just a dying old man."

Right when you finish your sentence, Joel tosses the knife aside and before you can stop him, both of his hands wrap around your throat and press down hard. You gasp for air as he starts strangling you. You reach up with your hands, clawing at his arms, trying to get him the fuck off you, but he's so much stronger than you. He always has been.

"Is that all I ever was to you? A dying old man?" He spits in your face out of pure anger, making you flinch. "Is that why you left me there? Because you figured I'd be dead soon anyways, so why fucking bother? Do you know what those slavers did to me?" 

You blink back tears, not from the pain of being choked out, but because you knew. You heard what happened to Joel. How they used him as their punching bag. How they forced him to kill people for them in the most sadistic ways. How they stripped away the last shred of humanity left in him before he found the strength to slaughter them all. 

"I'm sorry." You breathe out meekly. "I'm so sorry…" 

"No, you ain't." Joel releases you from his grip then, allowing you to breathe. 

You swallow as much air as you can through your bruised neck. Every breath hurts but you're too desperate for air to care. Then, you start to sob because it's all too much. 

"I shouldn't have left you, Joel." You confess everything to him in a moment of weakness. "I should've stayed and fought them, but I was scared of getting caught by them. I know what they do to women like me…and I just…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I fucked up. I should've—"

"Get your ass up." Joel snaps his fingers and you listen to him all too reflexively, standing up beside him. "Now go over to the bed and bend over."

Your throat goes completely dry and you want to protest but…

"Listening to me right now is what you should do." He makes it clear that he won't repeat himself. 

So, you quickly run over to his bed and do as you're told, bending over so that your stomach is on the bed but your feet are planted in the ground. It's humiliating, having your ass up like this and not being able to see Joel staring at you. 

That's the point, you figure, since he goes, "now kick off your pants and spread your legs again just like that."

You freeze because…you really don't want to do that since you aren't wearing anything underneath. He doesn't like your hesitation at all. 

Suddenly, you feel him yank you up by your hair and he yells straight in your face, "do as I say or I'll hurt you worse than those slavers would have."

Joel finishes his threat by spitting in your face and you whimper in fear, nodding your head to show him you understand before you strip off your pants. He lets go of your hair and your face drops back onto the bed as your legs spread with your ass up, completely naked from the waist down.

"Now, present to me." He demands fiercely. "Use your hand and show me your pussy." 

You squirm, mainly out of embarrassment. You've never done anything like this before. It's degrading, dipping your dominant hand between your legs so you can hold open your folds so he can see all of you. You can't even tell where he's looking because he's directly behind you. 

Then, you let out a shocked gasp when you feel him spit right on your clit. It's wet and warm and you should feel uncomfortable but it tingles in the weirdest way. You shouldn't want any of this, but your pussy is starting to ache uncontrollably. 

"Poor little princess." Joel mocks you as his fingers trail along your bare ass. "It looks like it's been a while since someone's used this hole of yours." 

He isn't wrong, as humiliating as it is to admit. You've been on a dry spell since you left him for dead. You just couldn't bring yourself to have a fling, not with all the guilt. It's hard to get turned on when your thoughts won't stop haunting you.

It makes you wonder why you're feeling the heat rise in your body despite it all. You're almost certain you're getting wet. It's more than just his spit between your legs and that haunts you in a totally different way. 

"Tell me the truth." He addresses himself like he used to when the two of you would fuck. "Has no one touched you recently?"

You take in a deep breath before you answer, "no one, not even myself." 

"Why?" He asks, his fingers slowly making their way down the line of your ass, brushing along all of your sensitive skin with his rough fingertips. 

"I-I couldn't." You feel ashamed saying this but you do anyways, "I didn't want to feel good." 

"Is that why you've been taking those shitty courier jobs?" His words surprise you. 

Has Joel…been keeping tabs on you? 

"Someone has to do them." 

"Enough people have died doing them." He tells you as you feel a finger teasing your entrance. You quiver at his touch, stunned at how it contrasts with his words, "do you want to die, my princess?" 

You press your lips together and then, when you can't seem to hold it in anymore, you whisper, "yes, sir." 

His finger slips inside of you right then and your toes curl. It feels foreign because it's been a while but so familiar because it's Joel. Your body leans into the feeling as he grinds his finger against your g-spot. 

"Now, why would the girl who left this old man to die want to die now?" He asks as he bends over on top of you, engulfing you in his body. His hot breath lingers on your ear when he whispers, "are you scared to be alive in a world where I'm not dead?" 

Joel digs another thick finger inside of you, spreading you wide open. You bite the comforter, trying to ease the sudden mix of pain and pleasure that's coursing through your body.

"Answer me." He commands, grabbing you by the hair once again so he can yank you up, pulling you away from the hold you had on the blanket with your teeth. 

You don't know what to say. It's hard to think when he's stirring your insides like this while he taunts you for your past actions. You're a mixture of guilty and aroused right now. 

Your mind is so foggy which is why you start mumbling out your thoughts without a filter, "I'm not afraid of you, Joel. I don't mind if you hurt me for what I've done to you. I deserve it. I deserve…all of it, even death. It should've been me. I don't have anyone to live for. At least you had Tess so—"

Maybe mentioning her name is what got him mad, but Joel cuts you off from speaking by roughly fingering you faster. Your legs start to wobble as your orgasm builds, your body threatening to collapse in on itself. You can't say another word because every breath is occupied by a moan or a gasp for air. 

"Cum." Joel is stern and his fingers are unyielding. "Cum your fucking brains out, princess." 

Your orgasm spills out like a broken dam the moment he thrusts side to side, forcing your body to convulse inwards. He catches you before you collapse entirely, guiding you onto his lap. There, he wraps his arms around you, holding you as you navigate every wave of sheer intensity surging through you. 

You lean on him with your head buried in the crook of his neck, and Joel gently rubs your back, helping you calm down. Maybe that's why you feel secure enough to cry. You latch onto him and you just sob everything out, needing to release all the feelings built up inside of you since the moment you found out he'd never be yours. 

"I didn't want to leave you." You breathe out softly in between your tears. "I didn't want to admit that I was jealous of you and Tess. I didn't want to deal with it, with the fact that I was really all alone and you weren't. It's selfish but…I liked that you had no one else because it meant you were like me. When that wasn't the case anymore, I just…I panicked and ran and I left you for dead. I'm sorry, Joel. I'm so sorry. It's all my fault."

Your heart aches so terribly now that the pleasure has washed out of your system. It felt good to be touched by him again, even if it was under these circumstances. But, that fear creeps back in, the fear that he'll never touch you again, and you hold onto him tighter because of it, not wanting to let go. 

"Come here." He whispers, nudging you until you're straddling his lap. Then, he taps on his shoulder and instructs, "bite." 

You nod, listening to his orders, wondering if he even heard anything you just said. You pool the fabric of his shirt in your mouth, holding it with your teeth. You keep your head buried in his neck, unable to look at him after everything you confessed. 

That's okay, though. He doesn't need to see your face. Not for what's about to happen. 

You fully understand the moment you feel his cold hand grip your ass. He's keeping you steady for a reason. 

"No screaming." He warns and you nod, bracing yourself by biting down a bit harder.

The first spank is a test. It's not hard, but it's not light either. You squirm after he smacks your ass and unconsciously, your body grinds up against him. You realize then that he's hard underneath you, his cock bulging right through his sweats. 

Now, you're biting back a moan. 

"Good girl." He praises you for keeping quiet but then switches to a more sinister tone. "Now, I won't stop until you've been thoroughly punished. Do you understand, princess? Let me hear it."

You let go of his shirt from your mouth, shocked that it's already soaked in your drool, so you can answer, "yes, sir." 

Before you can get the fabric stuffed back in your mouth, Joel slaps you hard on the ass and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. You hold in your whines and he rewards you by gently kneading your sensitive skin, easing you through the pain.

"I treat you well, don't I?" He asks and you nod in response, which is why he allows you the time to bundle his shirt back into your mouth. Then, he whispers, almost too quietly for you to catch, "then why did you run from me?"

Another smack connects with your ass and you quiver all over from the suddenness. You can feel how wet you've gotten because you've soaked his sweats, his cock pressing wet fabric up against your bare pussy. You want him inside of you. You can't resist it when you're right up against him like this.

But, you don't deserve it. You don't deserve him, not after what you did. So, you grip onto his back tightly with your hands, preparing yourself to endure whatever he wants to do to you. 

"Lift your hips." He pushes you upwards until you're no longer fully sat on his lap. "Now strip." 

You don't protest, pulling away from him once more so you can tug your shirt off, tossing it on the floor. You don't even remember being cold, not when your entire body is on fire right now. 

You watch as Joel scans every inch of your skin with his eyes, swallowing you up in his intense gaze. Then, when he has had his fill of looking at you, he demands, "show me that pussy of yours." 

As much as it kills you to do so, because the sheer thought sends heat through every inch of your skin, you lean back and use your hand to spread your folds to give him what he wants. It's hard to hold this position, but that's the point. He wants you to suffer both physically and mentally. It's what you deserve so you submit to it. 

"Look at your clit." His rough fingers brush against that bundle of nerves, rippling shockwaves through you. "It's begging to be touched with how swollen it is." 

You swore, you could feel more of your slick drip out onto your fingers when he said that. There's something in the way he draws you in with his words that forces your body to respond. It aches for him, truly. 

"Tell me what you want, princess." He teases your inner thighs, drawing circles there as he waits for your reply. 

You shouldn't say a word. You shouldn't want anything because you can't have it. 

But, you can't resist telling him, "I miss the way your mouth feels." 

That's the first time you see Joel smile all night. It's a light smirk, but a grin nonetheless. 

"Did you like the way I'd eat your pussy when we needed to kill time?" His words spark so much desire in you as the memories flood your mind.

It was lazy, the way Joel would rest with his head between your legs, spending hours exploring you with his tongue out of sheer boredom. Half the time, it was less for pleasure and more for comfort. It helped you sleep. It helped him sleep. Why? Neither of you knew, but if it worked, you both kept it up. 

"I liked it more than I should have." You whisper quietly into the night, hoping your words will be washed away from the heavy rain pouring outside. 

Suddenly, Joel tosses you onto your back on the bed and then buries his face between your legs. You gasp, not expecting to feel his warm tongue on your clit so soon, but he's impatient. You grab onto his hair as he swirls his tongue just the way you used to like it, making your mind all fuzzy from delight. 

"If you keep doing that…I'm going to…" You clamp your hand over your mouth, silencing yourself because you know it won't do you any good. He's not listening, anyways. 

You stifle your moans in your palm as Joel keeps ravaging your pussy. You can feel your orgasm building and it's a big one. You're going to explode and it scares you. 

You want to tell Joel to stop because you won't be able to handle it. You can't live with the thought of how good it feels to have him touch you like this. It's too much. Maybe that's why the tears pool up in your eyes.

"I can't." You try to push him away, begging him, "please, Joel, we can't do this…"

You can feel how close you are and it's taking every bit of your strength to edge yourself. You need to hold it in. You can't cum. You can't…because he isn't yours. 

This all ends tonight and you can't bear more memories of this. You avoided him for a reason…and now it's hitting you at full force. 

You feel something for Joel. You wouldn't call it love, but it's something. It's meaningful enough that it scares the living fuck out of you. 

"Please, stop." You shove at him, needing him to listen but he won't so you have to say what you must, even if it breaks your heart, "what about Tess? What would she do if she found out–"

"Shut up." He's quick with his retort, silencing you. "She has nothing to do with this, with us."

There is no us. You want to tell him that but it hurts too much to admit. 

So, instead, you confess something else, "I saw you, before our run. You made love to Tess. You held her more tenderly than you've ever held me. You can't…you can't throw that away. Please, Joel. Don't ruin a good thing."

"Fucking hypocrite." He curses at you, his southern accent peaking as he growls back at you, "you're the one who ruined a good thing. You're the one who slept with my fucking brother and now you're lecturing me about fucking someone else?"

You blink, stunned that Joel knows about that. It was a while ago. A long while ago. Maybe the third time you met Tommy. You both got drunk and slept together. It wasn't a big deal. It wasn't anything special. It was just a drunken one night stand that never happened again but you told Tommy that you both needed to keep it from Joel. It would just be better if he didn't know and Tommy agreed…

So, what changed? Did Tommy have a change of heart and tell Joel? 

Joel confirms it. "Tommy told me everything. Said he needed to confess his sins after he married his wife. And here I thought…" 

There's an expression on Joel's face that you can't quite parse. It's not anger. It's not resentment. It's just…pain. 

Heartbreak. 

You and Joel went to Tommy's wedding, since it was a stop on the way to one of the hubs you both had a job at. He made you dress up, which you never do but you did because it was a wedding and you'd never been to one before. You spent that night with Joel, shared a dance, talked about life before the outbreak. You were young when it happened, so you practically grew up in this world, knowing very little of the world before. 

The night came and went in a flash. You and Joel had stayed up, just mindlessly chatting together. You remember calling him handsome because you'd never seen him in a suit before. 

You had shoved the memory of him kissing you gently on the cheek before telling you to go rest for the day, since you both had to head out soon. It was a soft peck but it…it was unlike anything he'd done before. It was almost romantic and you couldn't fall asleep with that on your mind. 

Joel mentioned nothing of it when you both left Tommy's place. He didn't really talk much for the rest of that job. He did, however, fuck you roughly every now and then on the road. 

Boredom, he claimed. He liked toying with his submissive little princess. 

When you both got back, he got close with Tess and then you caught them sleeping together and the rest was history…right? 

Wrong. 

"I knew you were there." Joel climbs on top of you then so that he can look down on you, seeing how much smaller you are than him. He wants to be powerful because his words make him feel weak. "I knew you were watching me and Tess so I fucked with you. I wanted to make you jealous. I wanted to get back at you for fucking my brother behind my back. I wanted…I wanted you to feel something for me, but you didn't. You just left me there to die. You didn't give a fuck about me and I should've realized that sooner before I gave a fuck about you." 

"What…" You're in total disbelief. 

Did Joel really fuck Tess like that because of some kind of jealous vendetta? He wanted you to yearn for his love and that was the only way he could show it because he was scared you didn't want it. 

"Joel, I–"

He cuts you off to ask, "did I really mean nothing to you? I let you steal my booze. I let you steal my pills. I let you steal my fucking heart and you left me to die."

You choke on your own inhale then, the guilt consuming you. You know you shouldn't have left him. You know you should've fought and tried to save him. You know…but you were afraid and selfish and running from more than just your feelings for him. 

"You meant too much to me." You speak the truth into the night because you need him to know it. "And that scared me. I never felt that way about anyone before and…and I thought I was all alone in it. I was angry because I thought you could be happy without me. I was sad because I didn't want you to be with Tess. I left you…because I didn't know how I'd live if I had to come back and watch you live a life with someone else that wasn't me. I'm sorry, Joel. I'm so fucking sorry…"

You feel tears streaming down your face, but they aren't yours. They're hitting your nose, dripping down your cheeks and onto your lips. They're hot and salty. Nothing like the cold, crisp rain outside. 

And, they're coming from Joel of all people. 

This hardened, soulless smuggler is crying in front of you because of you. 

These tears are for you, right? 

"I told myself if I made it out of there alive that I'd kill you." His words send chills down your spine even if his eyes are spilling tears. "I told myself that the only reason I needed to live was to get back at you for leaving me in the dust. But then, I came back and…you were doing worse than me. I didn't even think that was possible, but I watched you. You tried your hardest to avoid me, but I still found ways to keep an eye on you and…you would've let yourself wither away over this. My beautiful princess would've let the light die inside of her because of me. Am I right?" 

You close your eyes, pinching them shut because seeing him sad is too much for you. It's hardly believable that he's sad over you. 

Has he really been watching you waste away? Would he have…wanted to help? 

Is that why he hasn't kicked you out of his place? Is that why he wanted to make you feel good? 

"I didn't think I deserved to be happy after what I did to you." 

You open your eyes then but immediately close them when you feel Joel's lips on yours. Out of necessity, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your hands in his hair, pulling him close to you. You and Joel rarely kissed, and it never felt like this. 

There's such a desperation in it, where both of you just have to be connected, sharing breaths and space in each other's mouths.

"I haven't been happy without you." Joel breathes out onto your lips when he pulls away. "I wanted to be with you. That's why Tommy told me. It's because I told him how much I wanted you and he couldn't keep it a secret any longer."

"He was worried I didn't feel the same." You gather that to be the case and he nods in agreement. 

"And I thought he was right, until now." Joel cups your face in his hands, carefully wiping away the tears from your cheeks as he explains, "I was so angry with you, but it hurt more not having you by my side. I thought I lost you forever. The only reason I had the strength to come back was for you." 

"Joel…" You can't help but pull him in for a hug, sobbing into his shoulder, "don't let me go. I don't want to be alone anymore. Please let me stay here." 

"Until the hurricane ends?" He asks, the nerves apparent in his tone.

You shake your head against his chest and then promise, "until you want to kill me for what I've done." 

He chuckles lightly at that and nods. "Deal." 

You smile at him then and you realize that's the first time you've smiled all night. It warms your heart and you lean up, giving Joel a kiss on the cheek like he had done at Tommy's wedding. 

"Let's get you under the covers." He must notice that you're getting cold so he helps you get warm, bundling the comforter over the two of you. "Have you been cold without me?" 

You feel embarrassed that he'd ask something like that, mainly because you know he's prompting you to say, "it's always warmer snuggling up with you, sir." 

"Good girl, still knowing who she belongs to." Joel must be very happy about that because he slowly sinks his way under the covers until he's back between your legs. "Now, is my precious princess going to cum for me this time?"

"Yes." You assure him that you won't hold back. 

"Ask politely." He's demanding and it shoots such a thrill through you to see him like this again. 

"Will you please make me cum, sir?" You chew on your lip right after you say that, trying to hold in your shyness. 

"Only if you don't hold in your voice. I rarely get to hear you be vocal, so I want you to be now." 

You hadn't realized how used to being quiet you were in bed. Holding in your moans was a necessity since you and Joel normally fucked out in the open and rarely behind closed doors. This wouldn't be the first time you've gotten to be loud, but it would be the first time you can really let yourself drown in the pleasure. 

"Please hurry, then." You grip onto his messy hair, urging him to continue. He smiles at your impatience and doesn't keep you waiting much longer. 

Your eyes roll back when Joel's lips wrap around your clit, giving it a light suck. It's like all the air has escaped your lungs because you can't breathe anymore. His beard scratches at your inner thighs and it makes you want to grind on him more. You just want to remember this feeling.

You want him to etch himself into your mind and body completely. 

"I love it when you ride my face like that, darlin'." The term of endearment rolls off his tongue before he dips lower, teasing your aching pussy with the tip. 

"Please." You hate that he's stalling. You're wriggling at his soft touch, at the way he dips his tongue so casually inside of you. He knows it's not enough to get you off. 

Joel relishes in the control he has over you. He might be smothered between your thighs but he's in charge of the pace. He gets to choose if he wants to give you what you need and you love every second of it. 

That's why when he finally eats you out the way you've been craving, you gush out uncontrollably when you're taken over the edge. Your breaths are all raspy and your mind is trying to catch up with the pleasure that's searing every inch of your body. 

Joel licks his lips with a grin, proud that he made you squirt with just his mouth. You cover your face at the sight of him, timid because you haven't cum that hard in quite some time. 

"Can you handle more or will you give out on me too early?" He asks as he pulls off his shirt, showing off the body you've been missing. 

Though, you can't seem to answer his question when you see the new scars on his chest. There are…so many…and it's obvious they were left to fester because the scars are like spiderwebs of pink and red. Your hand unconsciously reaches up and Joel takes your hand, pulling it towards him so you can lay your palm on the scar closest to his heart. 

"I-I did this." You stammer your words, your nerves heightening at the thought of what pain Joel went through. "You got hurt because of me. I-"

"It's in the past." He holds your hand securely, as if to ground you back into reality. "Don't think about that anymore." 

"Can I touch you then?" You press your hand into him more, wanting him to switch places with you. "Please, Joel. Let me so I can forgive myself." 

You can sense he's afraid in his own way. It's obvious neither of you have sought comfort for what had happened between you two, so opening up to that now is difficult. But, Joel nods slowly and then pulls you onto him, having you straddle him once again. 

For the next hour, you kiss every inch of his body. Your hands trail along every scar, old and new, and you whisper quiet affirmations to him, telling him that you appreciate him and his resilience. You apologize here and there, even though he tells you not to, but it isn't for him. You need it more than he does and he understands that soon enough. 

"You're so…beautiful." Joel tells you when you come up to him for a kiss. "It makes me wary that you want to be here with a man like me."

"I think you forgot that I'm the one who broke into your house." You say with a smirk and he lets out a hearty laugh. 

"What would you have done if I didn't find you?" He wonders aloud, so you think for a moment. 

A part of you thinks you chose Joel's place because you wanted to get caught. It would be the only way you could get yourself to talk to him again, after all. 

With a chuckle, you tell him, "I think I would have woken you up. You've never been a heavy sleeper. Plus, I know you stopped taking the pills."

"How do you know that?" He's curious. 

"You always ween off them before a trip and I know you've got a big one coming up." You don't shy away from the fact that you've been keeping tabs on him too. "I…heard you're taking Tess."

"It was either her or go alone, since I didn't have you anymore." He says as his hand comes up to caress your face. "Would it be wrong of me to ask you to go with me instead?"

"What's the job?" You ask, leaning into his touch. 

Joel adjusts until you're both facing one another side by side so that his hands can idly run along your skin while he explains, "Marlene has some kind of cargo she needs transported."

"You're working with the Fireflies?" You're surprised to hear that. 

"I ain't, I just need what they're willing to give me so I can get to Tommy." That makes a lot more sense. 

"I heard you've been looking for him." You bribed the radio man for that information a few days ago, actually.

"Mhm." Joel nods, his hand slipping between your legs then, getting distracted. 

You part your legs so that he has better access and he smiles at you when you do. His hand dips deeper, his fingertips teasing your entrance as his palm rests on your clit. He won't go any further than this. Not right now. 

Not unless you give him a reason to. "Make me cum again and I'll go with you. Tess can tag along if you think we need the extra body." 

"Are you telling me you wouldn't be too shy to fuck in front of Tess?" He dips two of his fingers into you when he says that and you have to hold back your gasp. "You'd be too horny not to. Isn't that right, my greedy princess?" 

"Yes, sir." You roll your hips against his hand, needing him to knead your clit with his palm. "I wouldn't care. I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, wherever, whenever." 

"Tess won't be tagging along." Joel tells you as he grabs your face with his free hand, lifting your chin to meet his fearsome gaze. "No one gets to see you look like this but me. Understood?"

"I understand." You say with a nod so he drags his thumb across your lip before pushing it into your mouth. You swirl your tongue along his calloused finger and then let it rest there with your lips wrapped around it. 

"My princess. All mine. Every hole of yours is mine to fill." He curls his fingers inside of your pussy, rubbing up against your g-spot once again. "Do you like being mine?" 

You don't even respond. Instead, your hand sneaks down and pulls his hard cock out from his sweats, needing to feel him. You gently stroke him up and down as he starts to thrust his fingers inside of you, making you wish it was his cock instead. 

"You drive me crazy." He lets out a low growl before he topples you over, smacking your hand away from him. He pulls his fingers out of you then and rubs all of your slick onto his cock, the wet sounds filling the air. 

It's erotic and hot, watching how his cock throbs for you. 

That's why you slip your hand down and spread yourself wide open like he has made you do all of tonight and tell him, "take what's yours, Joel." 

He doesn't wait a second longer. You're ill-prepared for him to slam every inch of his cock inside of you, but the moment he hilts, you swear you could've cum right there. 

The way he fills you up is perfect. Thick, hot and hard, curving inside of you at the perfect angle to rub every inch of your pussy the way it needs to be. 

You're already swimming in ecstasy just having him sit inside of you like this, but then he starts to move and it's all over. You cum hard, clenching around his cock. Sparks tingle on your skin and you can't help but want so much more. 

"Fuck, you feel so good, princess." He grunts, gripping onto your hips to steady himself. "I shouldn't fuck you raw like this, though." 

"I don't care." You should, but you've always been a bit reckless so you wager, "I won't forgive you if you pull out right now."

"Someone wants me to bury my seed deep inside of her." He leans down then, his eyes locking on yours as he goes, "if you want me to fuck you until you're pregnant, all you have to do is beg."

You do so without hesitation, "please fill me up with your cum, sir."

He's glad to hear it, which is why he responds, "I'm going to drown your pussy until it's leaking out over my cock and then I'll do it again, and again, as many times as it takes, my little princess." 

Joel drags his hand across your stomach and rolls his hips, like he wants to feel the way his cock is stirring you up inside. You're tightening up so much because it's been so long since you've been filled like this. It aches in the best kind of way, that pleasure of being split in two by him. 

When he starts to go faster, rougher, it's hard for you to edge yourself. You can't count the number of times you must have cum before he finally did. It drips out of you like a flood as he slowly pulls out. 

Though, right when you think he's going to slip away entirely, Joel shoves his cock back inside of you, making your toes curl uncontrollably. You crave more already and he's well aware. 

That's why when he does finally pull his cock out of you, his fingers replace it. You don't stop him from forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you until he's hard enough to fuck you once more. 

How could you say no to a man like Joel Miller? 

Somewhere along the way, you and Joel take naps together and eat small meals before fucking again. You can't get enough of him. You don't ever want to let him go again. 

You want to stay by his side forever. 

"The hurricane will be over soon." Joel notes the lighter rainfall outside. "We'll have to leave soon for the job." 

"Does that mean we should sleep or…" You chuckle at your own joke and Joel presses a kiss on the top of your head before laughing lightly with you. 

"Just promise you won't leave me for dead again." He tells you and you know he's never going to let you live that down. 

"I'll think about it." You say with a cheeky grin and Joel retaliates by pinning you down onto the bed, glaring at you. 

He's going to devour you for that and you're thoroughly ready to be swallowed whole. 

Oh, how you love such a dangerous man… 

a/n: this was really fun to write! I'm sure you noticed, but this oneshot kind of acts like a possible prologue to a canon-divergent series where you replace Tess on Joel's trip with Ellie. will I actually write a whole series? who knows! but I think a little prequel like this would be a nice dabble into the idea! should I write it? hehe 

if you enjoyed this read, maybe you'll enjoy my other joel oneshot: trouble! thanks again for reading ~ 

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #joel x reader #the last of us #joel miller

[roeyliteratiforever]

So if your looking at things from Jess' pov his mom just kicked him out to live with his uncle he barely knows, he has a lady he's just meeting for the first time talking to him about how she knows what he's going through and to him it feels condescending even if it wasn't meant that way by Lorelai. He doesn't want to be in Stars Hollow initially so he starts acting out to test how quickly he could get sent back such as stealing garden noms...etc, then he meets a girl who shares the same interests as him and the only person in town so far that doesn't automatically treat him like a preconceived opinion about him and she makes him feel comfortable so he proceed to impress his crush with writing notes in her book margins (that says I want you to know me) and pulls pranks that would make her laugh to then learn she has a boyfriend and learn that he is beloved by her mother that loathes him.

Dean does all the "perfect boyfriend things" while being a possessive, explosive, and an emotionally abusive control freak. Jess only wants to then spend more time with her, but the whole town already thinks he is trouble because of the reputation he set for himself.

He gets into a car accident with Rory and people then act like he's the spawn of Satan. He becomes so anxious and feels so bad after the accident that he leaves town because he doesn't want to cause Rory any harm or get harm from the weirdo townies. When she comes for him in New York he gets this burst of hope in him which is why he decides to move back for the possibility of being with Rory.

After Rory kissed him the first time he was so gone for her and in that moment that was all he wanted. He genuinely thought she was going to break up with Dean and choose to be with him, but when she didn't and left instead (my boy who already has deep abandonment wounds) is hurt because she didn't outright choose him and left. He then was alone without the one person in that town that he wanted to be around and so he met Shane who didn't want anything serious so it was a perfect way to try to mask his pain with her. He mysteriously gets a car, and people are going nuts thinking he stole it, and he's thinking I can't even get a second job without people thinking I'm a criminal, and I can't get a second job without people accusing me of being a drug dealer or a stripper.

Once him and Rory get together he is so happy he doesn't want to mess it up with her and he gets nervous because he wants everything to go right. She's the one he's been waiting for and now he has her. Then her ex boyfriend starts stalking and harassing him in secret and he feels like he can't do anything about it, and can't even tell his girlfriend about it because he thinks she won't believe her if he told her, so he bottles it up. When he gets attacked by the swan and she thought he got in a fight with Dean and didn't believe him it really hurt him. (I don't blame Rory for this she had no way of knowing and Dean was being manipulative with his "nice guy" and shitty behaviors but it still hurt Jess none the less.) After that he begins to put up his walls again.

When he realizes he's been messing up after not calling he then starts trying to do better and set dates and plans to be with her. All he wants to do is make her happy at this point. Then he gets the news that he's not graduating and in that moment it feels like everything everyone had always said about him came true, he felt like a failure and knowing that he wasn't going to be able to keep his promise to Rory that he would take her to prom crushed him. He wanted so badly to be there for her and do all the boyfriend things and he was so afraid of telling her he wasn't graduating and so upset he couldn't keep his promise to her. His smart girlfriend was getting into an ivy league school and he wasn't even going to graduate highschool and the thought of telling her that was horrible to him.

He could feel he was losing her and he thought once he told her that it would be over, and ended up messing things up with her anyways. He felt like he was doing her a favor by leaving because he figured she would want him gone. He didn't think she would want him to stay, even though that's all she wanted. He was battling his demons alone and was used to everyone shipping him off when he messed up that he thought he was doing her a favor by leaving after he messed up so bad.

His father that left him as a baby showed up in his life for the first time and he didn't know how to handle that. Once Luke kicked him out he ran to his dad that left him because crashing on his couch or floor was better than staying with his neglectful deadbeat mother.

He finds out his uncle was hiding his car from him and felt double betrayed he was already feeling abandoned yet again after Luke kicked him out to then find out he took something he worked so hard to get from him he was more betrayed. He comes back to Stars Hollow to get his car and everyone still wants him gone. Luke tells Jess to stay away from Rory so he proceeds trying to avoid her while he is there and he knows how badly he messed up with her and he wants to talk to her but when he sees her at the firelight festival he wants to explain to her but she is still so mad and all he could get out was that he loves her. He just wanted her to know he then leaves because he doesn't expect her to say anything he just wanted her to know. Jess is deeply hurting at this point inside and his pain is at it's peak. He just keeps digging a deeper whole and doesn't know how to fix it at this point.

Luke convinces Jess to go to his neglectful mother's wedding and goes to a bachelor party where he is assaulted by his stepdad to be at a bar and he naturally goes into defense mode. He was so used to his other abusive step dad's that he was constantly in defense mode and fought back. He goes to his mother's wedding anyways and walks her down the isle despite everything his mom put him through. Luke gives him the self help book that he had been reading, and Jess reads it and tries to better himself as well, meanwhile Lorelai scoffs to Luke about it. (I love Lorelai but that was extremely uncalled for by her and it just makes me think no matter what he does or how better he becomes he will always resent him, and it just makes no sense that she has this one sided grudge with a kid that was deeply in pain.) He makes up with Luke and thanks him for everything he did for him, and then he goes to try to apologize and tell Rory how he feels, but then he sees Dean there and he is thrown off and he just wants to make things right so in the spur of the moment he asks her to leave with him because he just wants to fix what they had. (He wasn't thinking rationally, but he meant it when he said she could count on him now and so he went out and turned his life around and made something for himself and came back to show her how much she could count him now even if it meant as a friend. He would still be there for her and he showed her that he could be the person she always knew he was. He still didn't expect anything from her he just wanted to show her his book, and let her know he couldn't have done it without her.)

He was so badly traumatized while him and Rory were together and it couldn't have possibly worked out at that time. He was battling so much pain internally, and everyone in that town was against him and actively hating him 😭 and I just feel for what he was going through, and I'm just so proud of who he turned out to be. I'm not sure what this rant was anymore but I'm just thinking about Jess' perspective and his pain right now. He was in so much pain while him and Rory were together and he didn't know how to properly express that or tell her that, and I just want to hug him and I'm so proud of him for how far he came and how much he overcame his pain and trauma and ugh I just feel so much right now. (Also I had a lot of coffee today and my autistic/ADHD brain is just going with thoughts right now.)

#gilmore girls #jess mariano #literati #rory gilmore #jess and rory #rory and jess #jess x rory #rory x jess #team jess

[januaryembrs]

LAST KNIGHT IN SOHO | Steven Grant/Marc Spector x Reader [6]

description: Summoning a council with the gods sound easy enough, right? Except the man on trial knows the dark secret she has yet to tell Marc.

word count: 14.5k

trigger warnings: gore/violence (as per) blood, nakedness? Fear of drowning. I have said this before, Dove has a dark past with themes that include abuse in a relationship (torment, manipulation, prostitution etc) drug use, please do not read this if this is not okay with you. Inspired by Last Night in Soho (dir. Edgar Wright) which is rated 18.

main masterlist | series masterlist

“So? What about the other gods?” Marc asked, witholding a heavy sigh as he looked over at Khonshu, Dove still nestled into his chest. The vibrations of his words rattled against her forehead, and she wished that for just a single second she could get a fucking break from the life she lived, from the virus that seemed to spread to every area of her life, from knowing the only denominator that linked every awful thing brought upon herself was her.

If it wasn’t her every waking moment spent pining after any scrap of kindness Marc could give her, then it was wishing Steven was here to talk to. He always knew how to make it better. How to cheer her up. He was a lot like Grace in that sense, that he knew exactly which part of her brain was troubling her and managed to weasel his way into the darkness, draw out the sickness and replace it with only good. And if it wasn’t wishing Layla would understand she was not a home-wrecking mistress, then it was her dreams being riddled by Grace, the one sore spot in her heart that seemed to never heal.

She was starting to forget what Grace looked like, she’d realised with a numbing pain. Started to forget where her freckles were, the way she smelled, the shades of honeycomb blonde in her soft locks. She was forgetting, an ailment no amount of healing armour could eradicate.

She’d rather be ripped to shreds all over again if she could see her in the flesh just one more time. Even as a ghost, even as a mirage, she’d take it all again.

“Are they just gonna stand by and allow someone to unleash Ammit?” Marc asked his keeper, his large hand still resting on her crown with a warm softness. She sniffed, pulling away from him with a troubled frown.

“To signal for an audience with the gods is to risk their wrath,” Khonshu explained, resting his goliath form in an oddly casual sprawl on an abandoned car.

“What’s the worst they could do?” Dove asked emptily, her tired eyes catching sight of the dead bodies for a split second before she quickly looked away, pretending her stomach didn’t lurch at the puddle of red sap that pooled beneath them.

“Anger them enough and they’ll imprison Seth and I in stone,” That had her head shooting up to the bird-like god, brain whirring at the golden ticket out of this whole mess.

“What?” She asked, stepping towards him, “You mean they can do that? They can relieve us of duty as your avatars?”

“See how you fair against Harrow without the protection of healing armour, little mutt,” Khonshu snapped, and the girl deflated on the spot. That was something she hadn’t thought of. Even if she were no longer Seth’s avatar, Harrow would still be planning on eradicating innocent lives. It was too late for taking back that duty now, she was in far too deep to bury her head in the sand now, no matter how much she’d wanted to.

How many moles had Grace had? Four, in a horizontal line from her ribs to her spine, or was it five? Fuck, what colour were her eyes? Blue, she knew, but what colour exactly, what shade, what hue?

“Alright, so what?” Marc bit back, throwing his hands up in defeat. He, too, had had the fleeting jump in his chest at the idea of being free from his servitude. “You got any good ideas?”

The god thought for a moment, his skeletal chest taking a deep, weighted breath behind its linen robes. A sigh of dismay.

“I have a bad one,” He said, and with a small movement he disappeared into the cool breeze passing over the two of them, as if he were nothing more than a pile of ash, or a thought thrown to the ether.

The two of them spared a glance at one another, Dove’s demeanour still shaken when Marc surveyed her with a soft, cocoa gaze. The wind picked up around them before either of them could speak, Dove’s hair whipping around her sticky face, catching on her cheekbones, the need to peel and scratch and gnaw at her skin overwhelming her with the texture, anything to get the damned blood off.

“What is he doing?” She asked, her hand subconsciously reaching out for Marc’s when the world around her began to darken. But not just for herself, she realised, but because the sun was disappearing.

No, that couldn’t be right. Throwing a squinted, pained look at the clear blue sky, the smell of the metallic tang on her skin slapping her in the face. Her eyes locked on the white orb in the sky that was indeed being devoured by a slightly smaller black circle moving in front of it, the moon. Khonshu was creating a solar eclipse. Switching the light out on an entire section of the world, drawing far too much attention to himself than would be allowed by the gods.

“Sending the gods a signal they can’t ignore,” His deep voice echoed around the clearing, the wind carrying the sound to their sensitive ears.

She felt Marc take her hand as darkness swept over them, unnaturally fast for any solar eclipse, tugging her back towards the town where cries of startled citizens were beginning to meet her ears.

“Come on,” He murmured, his warmth grounding her astonished mind, her eyes quickly adjusting to the shadow that swallowed the sands.

“I don’t know whether to applaud him for the guts or curse him for putting you in danger,” She mumbled, not missing the way their hands seemed to gum together from the equal amount of ichor on them. She didn’t miss the way Marc’s knuckles were blown open, the flesh around them sore and sliced from his fist fight with the mercenaries. She made a note to fix them later.

“That tends to be the way with Khonshu,” Marc replied sourly, the two of them taking a long set of old sandstone steps back down to the city.

She huffed, more agitated than he had ever seen her with a solid frown on her normally gentle forehead.

“Well maybe when all of this is over, we find a way to get rid of them both together?” She proposed, and he couldn’t help but lurch at the fact she saw a together for the two of them after all of this. Not together in love, he chided himself, but Layla had been the only other person to ever see him as worth sticking around for. It was nice to have Dove too.

Flashing her a barely there smile, he squoze her hand lightly. It fell the second he caught sight of the bird headed god and his jackal like companion waiting for them at the bottom of the steps as if they heard their devious little plan.

“That was abit over the top, don’t you think?” Marc sassed, keeping hold of Dove’s hand and steering her away from Seth’s looming gaze, even if to hold off his intruding presence for a second longer than necessary.

“Hurry, they’re gathering their avatars now,” Khonshu demanded, the two of the goliath gods trailing behind their own minions.

“Aren’t they scattered all over the world?” Marc asked, and Dove was glad he was here with her at least, she was sure by the way her stomach was twisting so painfully she would have retched her breakfast by now. She was going to have to meet more gods? Not just any but the Ennead, the effective high council of Egyptian Deities and plead their case to the ancient beings? The current track record set by the Gods she had met had caused nothing but misery for her short life, so the idea of introducing eight more to that mix sent her chest pounding.

“Yes, but for a meeting with the Ennead, a portal presents itself anywhere,” Seth cut in, halting the two humans in their step. His face, his presence, was not one that they simply could get used to. A chill ran down both their arms, and she felt him tug her just a bit closer to him.

“Okay, so where’s ours?” Marc asked, and as if to summon the portal in question, a low rumble only they seemed to notice rocked the earth beneath their feet, though it seemed too delicate to be an earthquake, too harsh to be oncoming footsteps. It was then that bricks in the nearby building began peeling away, crumbling in on themselves to form a long archway corridor. The walls were lined with hieroglyphs she was certain wasn’t part of that building, more likely wherever it was the portal led to.

“Last time I spoke to the gods, they banished me,” Khonshu spoke solemnly as the two of them stepped towards the doorway. A faint, amber light flickered against the symbols etched into the stone walls, illuminating them with a golden glow that reminded her of Seth’s staff.

“Join the club,” Seth growled with a bitter chuckle, and Dove fought the urge to point out the sheer amount of times he had slaughtered his own brother for power that had led to his banishment, but she thought better of it than to be the one receiving his wrath. “Our case against Harrow must be indisputable,”

The two of them hesitantly stepped forward, Marc subconsciously moving in front of her as if to want to head in there first, check if it was safe. But there was no time for heroics, and he didn’t doubt Seth wouldn’t have her defend herself if things started to go south. Hearing the two gods retreating behind them, Dove whipped around to see the beasts slinking off through a nearby street.

“Aren’t you coming?” It was perhaps the only time she would ever want the God of Death there to support her case. Though, upon thinking about it, she guessed Osiris seeing his killer may not go down well considering the god’s reputation.

He snickered darkly, throwing a glance to her over his muscled shoulder that rippled with corded tendons with every movement.

“You know I love a family reunion.

Dove’s jaw slacked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline. They were so fucked.

Marc huffed, and the two of them stood looking down the long corridor with a shared hesitance. Once they went in, they were going in blind. Into a space where there were beings even more powerful than the gods they were bound to. Who knows what the Ennead were capable of, whether they were known to hold grudges around two exiled gods and the humans they deemed worthy of their service. Would they see right through her? Right through this innocent little marionette she played every single second. Would they see her for exactly who she was, would they see the chaos festering in her heart? The rot eating away at her bones?

“Ready?” Marc whispered, the sound barely meeting her ears. He looked over at her gently, eyes wide and anxious, though he seemed more worried about her than himself. Her eyes were glazed over, tired. Her hand was cold in his palm, yet she gripped onto him tightly as if he were the only thing she had to ground herself. She looked back at him, though he could tell she was far away, she wasn’t here with him, the same as this morning in the room, when her smile had cracked for just a single second and he saw the sadness behind her eyes that rarely appeared. He hated it.

She didn’t speak, just nodded and it was enough for him to draw her even closer, hold her hand even tighter.

The two stepped into the tunnel, their footsteps echoing down the long chamber, engulfed in a cloak of darkness from the lack of sunlight. It certainly wasn’t a new building they were entering judging by the erosion on the crumbling walls, though the hieroglyphs were surprisingly well preserved. A light flickered at the end of the passage, the only thing giving them any idea where to go as they clung towards one another. A large figure of a head came into view, starting small but the closer they got it became clear the figurine was actually huge, large enough to tower over both of them ten times over. She guessed by the head piece and the jewellery they were royalty, or at least the spouse of a pharaoh, well respected. Revered. A tomb for an esteemed member of Ancient Egyptian society.

She remembered Steven showing her a special edition guide to Egyptian myths they had in stock just three weeks ago, how he’d been waiting for them to get the shipment in for months since it was so low stocked everywhere else. He’d nudged her every chance he could get when they finally got to take their lunch break, turning his new prize to her to show her every diagram or photo or excerpt he could, telling her more facts that he’d read in other books, talking her ear off the entire train ride home too. She thought him the smartest man she’d ever met; thought his intellect, his sheer excitement to share his interest with her was the sweetest and most attractive thing she’d ever seen. He certainly didn’t make it easy for her to not kiss him silly right there on the spot.

Two more figures came into view, two behemoth statues flanking each side of the head, one a falcon, a distinctive crown atop his stone head, the other a woman with two large ostrich wings as her arms, curled around herself.

“I can’t believe it,” Marc’s head whipped to the side, Steven’s face reflecting in the polished golden engravings on the stone walls, his chocolate eyes lit up in wonder like a boy on christmas. His hands clasped together in front of him nervously, though his mouth was pulled into a gobsmacked smile, his gaze flicking around the enormous expanse of the room as if to take it all in at once. “Oh- my days. We’re inside- we’re inside the Great Pyramid of Giza,”

Marc’s head flicked to the room that opened up into a colossal square, unmistakably a pyramid built for the worthiest of pharaohs.

“Steven said we’re in-” Marc started, his voice low, gentle as if to not alert whatever it was waiting for them at the end of the corridor, only for her to cut him off with an equally hushed tone.

“Great Pyramid, yeah” She nodded, her eyes stunned and overwhelmed. Nodding towards the Falcon statue, she pointed with their joined hands, “That’s Horus wearing the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt.”

“God of Healing and Protection?” Marc asked, recalling the few things he knew about the other gods. She nodded, her eyes never ripping away from the expanse of priceless relics in front of them.

“As a man, yes. Horus as a Falcon represents Kingship,” She explained, watching his eyes trail over her face with a strange look, softening just a touch more if it were even possible. Turning back to nod towards the other statue, “The woman with the ostrich wings is Ma’at, judge of the hearts of the dead. She represents justice and order, balance and morality. This was a Pharaoh who wanted the greatest of respects and fortune in his afterlife,”

Marc’s jaw slackened at her brain, practically seeing the cogs turning in her bright eyes, the flame from the torches dotted around the tomb giving her face a beautifully warm glow. She looked divine, as if it should be her with statues erected in her honour, as if she were the one who deserved a wonder of the world in her name.

“I think I’m in love,” Steven’s besotted voice came from the reflection behind him, feeling the alter’s eyes enraptured with her face just as much as he was. Marc nodded once, ripping his gaze away from her to focus on the unfamiliar territory ahead.

Now was not the time for childish feelings, he chided himself, though Steven’s words had cut him deep, confirming for Marc something he already knew. It wasn’t just a little crush he was in the way of - Steven was in love with this woman. And he was wrecking it, he was simply a wall in between two gentle creatures that deserve nothing else but each other.

He always knew he ruined everything.

A frown settled on his face, avoiding her gaze with a sneer as they ventured forward into the tomb.

“Come on,” He murmured, unclasping her hand and quietly stepping into the cold catacomb.

“One evening,” He had said, waving his finger in her face at the door like a master scolding its pup, “You girls can have one evening out,”

It was probably because the neighbours had started getting suspicious about the two girls that would sit in the window but would never leave, or perhaps it was a treat for being such good little victims and remaining complacent. They didn’t know. At first Grace had said it was a test, a test of loyalty. It wouldn’t be unlike him to give them a sick game to test if they really were faithful to his command. But perhaps it was a treat? After the two years they had remained in that house, remained together, this was the first time they were allowed outside that wasn’t the garden.

They were ecstatic.

Don’t be fooled, he was sure to collar the two of them before they could step foot out the door, his fingers squeezing just the slightest bit to tell them exactly what would be waiting if they were to run or go for help. Don’t be stupid, now girls, he reminded with a low grumble. And they were gone.

It had started with a brisk walk down the street, past the abandoned hotel that sat opposite their bedroom window, its welcome sign springing to life every evening even after its years out of business. The girls had a prance in their steps, truly with no idea where they were headed since they couldn’t see past a certain point from their spot in the window. Once the road turned into a long slope down, the houses getting bigger, the yards getting greener, the road getting quieter, was when it settled in that they were outside again.

“I don’t fucking believe it,” Grace whispered, her head tipped to the heavens, the crease on her brow ironed out. She took a deep breath, her mouth pulling out into the biggest smile she had ever mustered, Dove swore she could count every single one of her teeth. “We’re fucking OUTSIDE!” She yelled, no doubt waking up the neighbours. It was dangerous, drawing attention to themselves, but Grace couldn’t care. The Summer breeze filled her lungs, the seven o’clock sun fell over her face in full force, the feeling seeming to be extra warm than what she was used to. Because there was no window there. Because they were free.

Until eleven, in four short hours, but they were free nonetheless. The birds had never sounded louder, the air never tasted so sweet.

She couldn’t help but join Grace in taking a long, deep breath, a laugh bubbling out her throat, loud and joyful. Perhaps the happiest she’d felt in years. Like slipping out of a cage, a bird with its wings spread. She rose her arms to her sides, feeling the wind whip entirely around her middle, and suddenly the two of them were running. The street was empty, save for the two sets of footsteps slapping against the concrete as they sprinted down the descending hill, their fingers brushing against each others every now and then before Grace reached over and clasped her hand tightly against hers.

They were free.

It wasn’t long before they’d reached the beach, the one mother showed her as a child, the one she’d been to when the boys were little. It was nothing spectacular, nothing like they’d see in a foreign country. The sea was cold as anything since it was still England after all, the sand was mostly rocks, but the sound of the waves rolling in on their little slice of heaven.

The two lay on the hard sand, shoes kicked off and fingers buried into the course grain, just feeling. The sea was far from lapping at their feet; though ice cold, they wouldn’t find it in themselves to care anyway. The freezing water would barely even scrape the surface of the elation they felt now, there truly wasn’t anything that could simmer the way their hearts pounded in their ears.

“Three hours left,” She reminded, only to have Grace tut her and swat at her arm.

“We won’t be late, stop worrying,” The blonde chided, sand sticking to the side of her cheek as she turned her head in the sand to see her companion, “Just breathe,”

She knew she’d meant ‘breathe it all in’, the day, the feeling of their cage door being blown open, but she couldn’t help but do as Grace had commanded and take a deep salty breath in.

The sun warmed her as the shore breeze cooled her. A balance. An equilibrium. Her mind was blank for the first time in a long time. The waves may as well have been the thoughts ebbing and flowing from her mind.

“In some other universe, this is our life every single day,” She finally muttered, as if too scared to speak it into existence and risk waking up from whatever dream they were having. Grace snickered, their fingers meeting once more. Grounding. Warm.

“Do you think so?” Grace asked, her cornflour eyes squinting in the sun, watching the way her friend’s eyes remained closed, soaking up the entire thing. “You think we’re together in other universes too?”

“I hope so,” She responded, her toes sinking into the warm sand just a touch more, clinging to the back of her bare calves. “I hope I’m with you in all of them,”

Grace smiled, and her eyes opened then, meeting the sky with a tired blink before she turned to where Grace was staring at her. The two simply looked at one another, as if looking in a mirror of themselves though their shell was entirely different. Like their souls had met an equal in their gaze.

“I don’t care which one I’m in as long as I have you,” Grace whispered, clenching onto her hand with a soft desperation. She sighed, turning back to stare at the sky, a new openness at the difference the vast blueness held from her bedroom ceiling.

“I hate that house.” She confessed, though Grace already knew she did. “I feel like I’m-” She welled up, and Grace shifted to rest her forehead on her shoulder, “I feel like I’m in a coffin. Like I’m in a tomb. Like I’m screaming and banging on the door but everyone assumes I’m dead already,” Her brothers. They never responded to her letters, texting was too risky. But the envelope with the money made it to them once a month, she always sent it with the hope they would understand, understand she hadn’t left, that she wasn’t gone. But perhaps she was. She felt already gone. Felt like a corpse walking. “Maybe I already am dead,”

“I would never let that happen to you,” Grace whispered, nuzzling her face into her bare shoulder, “Me and you in every universe, right?” She asked, nudging her arm against hers to make her point, “Cage, house. Beach, tomb. I’m with you in every one of them,”

Dove’s breath was caught in her chest when she saw the sheer size of the pyramid. They didn’t call it the Great Pyramid for no reason, she supposed, but the sculptures alone were some of the biggest pieces of art she had ever seen, larger than any relics they had at work.

Marc took a slight lead, heading towards the centre of the room, where the floor lowered into a pit-like square, the floor a cold stone and undisturbed. Nine smaller, seated statues lined the steps down to the trench, one for each of the Ennead they guessed quickly. Eight doorways, similar to the one they had just exited from, dotted the remaining walls. A slight flash of light came from two of them, where a young woman stepped through the door to the close right.

She was beautiful, Dove noted immediately. Her sepia skin glowed in the dark lamp light, her midnight black hair silk over her shoulders. She was effortlessly graceful, beautiful gold jewellery winding over her wrists and neck, her eyes fox like yet gentle as she peered at the two newcomers.

“Khonshu’s antics are unparalleled.” She said with an accent Dove couldn’t place other than the melody it spelled over her every word. “You must be his avatar,” She said with a glint in her eye Dove knew was not just from the fire light. She was only a single pace behind Marc by the time he reached the bottom of the steps, yet she felt entirely lost, as though she were just floating her way down to where the woman met them, her legs jelly and wobbling.

“And who are you?” Marc asked politely, though she could sense the wariness in his tone. Untrusting. Ready to make a run for it if it came to it. She saw how his shoulders held the tension he rarely seemed to displace, she wished she could simply shove her face in between his shoulder blades, hug him like she had in the room. Feel him relax under her touch. She wished they were anywhere else but here. Anywhere but where the walls seemed inevitable, seemed to seal in around her, their very purpose to keep the dead inside.

“I’m Yatzil, Avatar of Hathor,” The woman announced, nearing the pair with a smile. Friendly, Dove noted, but she saw the way Marc tensed even further as she reached them, a look of plain fear flashing over his expression, as if she were about to be snatched away from him by the relatively kind looking woman. “Goddess of Music and Love? Surely Khonshu mentioned her,”

Marc shook his head slightly, a grimace on his battered face, “The gods aren’t exactly his favourite topic,”

“Not even when they are old friends?” Yatzil pushed, and Dove straightened up when she saw the playful way the avatar studied Marc with. Something boiled in her chest, something hot and sour, like her lungs were trying to choke her from the inside out. She didn’t like the way she was looking at Marc. To say he was hers only to look at drew even more tumultuous feelings in the pit of her stomach, but unlike Layla, who could barely stand the sight of him without steam blowing out her ears, she was interested. She was flirty.

She wanted out of this sinking ship already before she did something she would regret.

The woman looked over Marc’s shoulder then, only just noticing the shadow that seemed to peak from behind him, her eyes wide yet calculating, a vast contrast to Marc’s furrowed brow that glared at everything.

“And who might you be?” Yatzil’s voice was mellow as she took in the new figure, her gentle gaze never wavering. Perhaps she wasn’t so much flirting as she had guessed, and she wanted to chide herself for getting so worked up so quickly. Maybe she was just overly friendly to everyone, being the Goddess of Love and all that.

She was almost embarrassed with how quickly she had become possessive over Marc. It was hard not to when she was accompanied by an extremely attractive man that seemed to draw eyes everywhere he went. She thought she had enough trouble with Steven and Dylan, let alone a Goddess.

Chancing a look at Marc, the two of them agreeing solely with a single silent exchange, she told Yatzil her name.

“I’m Avatar of Seth,” She confessed, not missing Yatzil’s face tightening, her smile becoming a tad more forced. Her once gentle eyes became intrigued, looking the girl head to toe, before turning back to Marc.

There it was. The turn. The moment she realised she was not to be trusted. That she was rotten to her marrow.

“I did not know Seth had a new avatar,” She said, all traces of warmth gone as she surveyed the younger woman with a new suspicion, “How did this happen?”

“It’s a long story,” Marc cut in, sensing Dove’s anxiety by the way she fidgeted with her fingers, grabbing her hand back into his own to stop her from picking at the skin around her thumb. He hated it when she did that, saw how sore it made her digits, how she would bring band aids with her in her bag in case any of the scabs broke skin, “It’s not why Khonshu called this meeting,”

“Yatzil,” A voice called down to them, and it was then that the pair realised the rest of the avatars had made it, standing behind each of their podiums that represented their gods. They looked like regular people, though she supposed so did she and Marc. That was the point of them. It made Dove wonder if there were hundreds of them out there, if she had walked past them in the street before, thinking nothing of them.

Yatzil gave them a strained smile, leading them towards where the four other avatars stood, waiting to pass conviction on the two of them. She couldn’t help but feel like a lamb being led to slaughter after that stilted introduction, as though they were heading to a chopping block with cuffs and a bag over their head, the avatars facing them all judge, jury and executioners.

Her trial was over before she had opened her mouth. Just the very sound of Seth’s name had set Hathor on edge, let alone when she faced the god Seth had repeatedly assassinated. His own brother, Osiris. Or even his sister, Isis.

“Have they told you how this works?” Yatzil asked calmly, heading to the steps towards her own podium, where Hathor’s proud statue watched them approach, a pair of long cow horns straddling a large sun disk signalling her seat.

“Not really,” Marc answered for the two of them as Dove naturally fell behind his shoulder, gaze flicking to the new sets of eyes that peered down on their lowered figures. She hated the way they picked her apart with their unfriendly glares, vultures circling a carcass waiting to dive in and clean her off to the bone. They would have her for breakfast any second now. “Is there somethin’ we should know?”

No, they wouldn’t. Marc would never let that happen. Marc would protect her. She trusted him with every fibre of her being, trusted him as much as she trusted Steven. He would protect her.

“I try not to fight it, it’s a strange sensation but you’ll get used to it,” Yatzil said vaguely, bunching her rust coloured dress in her hands to ascend the ancient steps, her satin-like hair rolling down her back as she turned away from them. Her head flicked back jarringly, Hathor’s spirit consuming her body smoothly, as did the other avatars, the humanity flickering from their harsh stares and swirling into a bright white, the gods taking place in their vessels.

“In attendance,” Yatzil’s voice was still the same, though it held a new level of power, a confidence that only an other worldly being could carry, the clarity of a creature that had seen the earth for thousands of years, “Horus, Isis, Tefnut, Osiris, and Hathor. To hear the accounts of Khonshu and Seth,

A cold spread down her spine, minimal compared to the other few times Seth had taken her body as his own, gentle almost. A soft whoosh of power flooded through her vertebrae, spreading up her neck and through her throat, releasing through her lips as a small sigh. It was benign, as though there was simply a hand stroking down her back compared to the leg numbing force he usually took her with, the kind that made her head dark and fuzzy, the force of being locked out her own body, this felt nothing like that. Perhaps Seth was on his best behaviour in front of his older brother who they both knew could exile the God of Death to stone.

Tormenting and breaking a young girl's mind did not send the message of urgency the four of them needed the Ennead to understand.

She felt Marc’s hand twitch in her own, causing him to drop her palm once more, and she guessed Khonshu had also taken his place inside his avatar. Yatzil would have had a heart attack had she been put through what Seth had tormented her with if she thought this was a ‘strange sensation’.

The weight of Osiris’ glare fell upon her shoulders, and it became clear there was no love lost from the God as she looked upon his frown.

“Brother,” The growl emitted from the human man’s throat, a sneer tugging at his lips, “I trust this is your doing, you and your newfound play thing,” He eyed Dove’s cowering body with disgust, a calculating scowl on his relatively young face. The man couldn’t have been older than thirty five, dressed in a smart business suit and a face that not a single laugh line marred, as though he hadn’t smiled a day in his life. Fitting, she thought snidely, for a god so serious.

Yet those thoughts felt like Seth’s. And with it brought a new wave of peril, unlike the one that came after she would black out. Could he hear her thoughts? Had he buried herself into her head, her only place of solitude? Or maybe was her brain just that cruel all on her own?

“You should be on your knees thanking me, brother,” The words spewed from her chest unprompted, and it took everything in her not to clasp her hand over her mouth to stop it. It felt like someone had reached into her lungs and dragged the accusation up her oesophagus. It was a clap of thunder that echoed around the enclosed chamber, a dark cry that met her ears, leaving her gobsmacked that that was her voice.

“And why is that, brother?” A woman to Osiris’ right, his sister-wife Isis, snarled. Dove wanted to sink to the floor and beg for forgiveness from the two deities that looked at her with a disdain that tainted her skin. She wanted to plead for them to send her home, send her away from all of this mess, just please stop, stop looking at me like that. But instead what came out was the voice, his voice, ripping from her throat with a ferocity that was nothing like hers.

“Were it not for me, dearest sister, and Khonshu, we would not be here meeting to discuss a matter that threatens us all,” Seth’s growl seemed unnatural coming from such a small creature, her eyes wide and afraid as she cursed at the gods with his tongue. Whether it were Seth speaking or not, she was the one they looked to with hatred.

A slender, dark-haired man flanking the other side of Osiris, undoubtedly their son Horus, snorted bitterly, his eagle eyes gazing down the steps to the woman whose head snapped to him.

“You threaten us all, Set. You and your chaos. Your need for vengeance.” He spoke with an Irish lilt, his mouth sneering just as well as his father’s, “It is clear by your actions there is no end to the darkness and turmoil you wish to cause mankind, as well as to your own kind.”

Osiris raised a hand to his son, taking over the brunt of the reprimanding. Dove didn’t doubt this had been what it was like for centuries, she knew the pain of being the oldest and having to mother her own brothers. Though, exiling them to a stone for all eternity for endangering lives was a new concept even for her.

The eyes narrowed in on her as Osiris puffed out his chest to speak, his voice a calm command that rattled her bones.

“It is our job in these vessels to remain unseen, to keep the peace between our world and the humans,” He was rather quiet despite the petrifying effect he held over Dove, the way his and every other god sized her up as she quivered in her place. “Do you not hear how they cry out? That is fear. You scare them, brother, for your own personal enjoyment. We have long since understood you love the taste of their horror. Imagine the hatred they would feel if they saw what lay beneath that young flesh.”

Dove’s eyes lined with tears. She knew the insults were directed at her counterpart that could hear them just as well as she could, that she felt bristling uncomfortably in the back of her mind at the sound of the offence, yet the darkened eyes and sneers they accounted her with churned her stomach in guilt as if this were her own trial. Her own sentencing.

They would fear her if they knew who she really was. What she really was. And the sick part of her knew the darkness had laid under her skin long before any of this. She choked on the words Seth tried to force out of her, gritted her teeth for him to keep quiet, to just let the onslaught end. Let her sentence be carried out, let her be hung, drawn and quartered under their resentful gaze even if to let the pain end, just let it end, just let me go, release me from this life-

“Alright now-” Marc’s voice was fuzzy behind her, the slightest step he took forward towards the gods was stopped by Osiris’ angered voice, a firm look snapping to the new culprit.

“And you. You’ve been banished once for nearly exposing us Khonshu,” Just like that, their attention had been stolen from the pitiful girl that shook in her spot as if no more than a street dog, mangy and yet guilty looking. “And you know we despise your garishness,” He continued, Marc stopping in his place to hear what the high immortal had to say, “Your showy masks and weapons. But manipulate the sky again, and we will imprison you in stone.”

“Spare me your self-righteous threats,” Marc’s voice was a strained call of anger. Clearly Khonshu had a lot to say to the council, Dove mused to herself behind a weakened expression, “I was banished for not abandoning humanity, unlike the rest of you,”

“We have not abandoned humanity,” Horus chimed in, a pinched glower on his young face, “They abandoned us. We simply trust our avatars to carry out our services without calling undue attention to ourselves,” His eyes shifted back to the young woman who gulped under his fire. “Is this why you’ve resurrected the one who caused them so much pain? In the name of aiding the humans? Look at the bloodshed that has already been drawn under her hand,”

He nodded to the state Dove was in, the gummy redness that stuck to her arms, that buried under her nails, that smeared across her face. There was no denying that she had caused such a massacre. There was no running, no hiding from their judging eyes.

“Avatars are not enough! We need the might of gods. Return from the opulence of the Overvoid before you lose this realm. Seth has been the only one brave enough to unleash his strength on those who deserve it,” Marc jolted back as Khonshu left his body, a deep draw of breath expanding his lungs. Dove’s eyes flicked to him in sorrow, seeing the toll the god was taking on him, even if just for a second, the urge to bury her face into his arm and ask to go home overwhelmed her.

“The avatars that remain here are simply meant to observe. We decided long ago we did not wish to meddle in the affairs of man,” Osiris spoke calmly, though the order was clear. The two of them were to submit, to yield under their commands.

“We will decide our best course of action,” Tefnut cut in, under the guise of a glamorous earth-brown woman, her shirt a pop of reds and oranges that brought out her hooded dark eyes even in the lowlight of the tomb. Her gaze was just as intimidating as the others, though she looked at Dove with something more akin to understanding than the rest. The eyes of an elder, who had seen more than the others. A wisdom that only came with thousands of years on the earth they deemed unworthy of their protection. “Speak your purpose,”

“We call for judgement against Arthur Harrow,” Her own voice constricted at the rage that had now overcome Seth’s words, the vitriol that settled under her skin, that boiled her blood for a fight that was not hers.

“The charges?” Came Isis, in the form of a placid, moonlight woman, her doe-like, hazelnut stare serene yet piercing when accompanied with the disappointed purse on her cherry blossom lips.

“Conspiracy to release Ammit,” Khonshu’s exclaim ripped its way through Marc’s chest as a single tear dropped down the man’s tawny cheek from the effort in which the god tore at his psyche.

“That is a heavy accusation, Khonshu,” Osiris said seriously, bringing his hands together as if to search himself for guidance. The man took a deep breath, a silence settling over the room for a moment, the five avatars awaiting to hear their superior's judgement.

She practically felt Marc’s heart pounding in his bones, heard the way the deep breaths rattled his lungs, how his chest burned with effort. She was glad for them at least that Seth had listened to her plea to hold his, her, tongue, allowing Marc to take the brunt of the conversation. She knew the recklessness of the god would only dig them their own grave, that they would be left with little to no hope of taking on Harrow without his help.

Osiris sighed, looking to one of the smaller doorways burrowed into the side of the pyramid. “Let us summon the accused,” He ordered, an orange flicker of light emerging from the catacomb. Dove felt her chest seize at the whoosh of fresh air that came through the doorway, hearing two weary footsteps making their way towards them, scraping against the sand that dusted the hard, stone floor.

And with them, Arthur Harrow appeared.

Handsome for a man of his age, yet his eyes were soulless blue pits, little to no remorse for his schemes behind them. Instead, he seemed to be excited, jumping for the chase, the cat and mouse game the three of them had going. He seemed almost animated to see their newest intervention to halt his plans as he stepped into the tomb, a fake look of bewilderment on his older face.

His hair was greying wisps around his jaw, his suit a plain mahogany two piece that dragged against his espadrilles. He slowly stepped towards them with a cold stare, his jaw clenched in a hidden smirk as he sought the attention of the Ennead.

“So I see from Khonshu’s current makeshift avatar, the purpose for this meeting must be nefarious,” He said plainly, the false innocence in his expression causing a hot anger to wash over Dove’s face.

This time it was her own. Seth was still there, dormant behind her cranium, still seething from his reprimanding from his older brother, twisted with hate at the sight of Harrow, but the overwhelming feeling of outrage was hers.

“Not to mention this poor little soul Seth has taken as his own,” His blue pools of nothing slid to her, the dare to retaliate set and matched in his eyes, “The young one knows nothing of the trouble she’s causing, this is business well beyond her understanding,”

A threat. A call for a challenge. A taunt for her to show what she hid from the world, what festered inside her this whole time. What he had seen with a single touch of her wrist the first day they’d met in the museum.

There is a darkness in you.

And then it was that night all over again. It was the screaming, it was the pure, visceral hatred she had felt for him, for the man that had put her there. It was knowing she was never going home, that she was never going to see her sweet niece grow up to run rings around her teachers. It was knowing her brothers wished for nothing to do with her. It was knowing every one of her letters went unanswered.

And chaos, oh there is chaos,

It was remembering Grace’s laugh through a sob and the fact she would never hear it again. It was the way the light from the abandoned hotel sign next door lit up her room with red, something she had always hated, she could never sleep for the brightness of it. Then again, she struggled to sleep anyway. It was the red of the shoes the girls wore, the other girls, the others from the club. The emerald room, the way they watched her dance like a puppet on a string before things truly went wrong.

Something wicked this way comes.

It was knowing her brothers couldn’t stand the sight of her because of him, because of the choices she’d made for him. For love. She wanted to scoff. It was the men that came at night, the ones that she saw in her dreams even now, the ringleader of them all being the one to tell her what a good little lapdog she’d been for him. The one she’d called boyfriend.

It was the knife, it was the blood. It was the body that burned as she’d torched the house in her escape.

And I see you are truly something wicked.

“You know exactly why we are here,” Khonshu cried from behind her, though Harrow took no notice of the call, his mouth twitching to fight off a smirk as he saw the way her chest deflated at the sight of him, knowing he knew her. He knew her, the way Seth knew her.

The way she was terrified even now that Marc and Steven would someday know her.

“Rip his tongue out,” Seth hissed into her ear, chomping at the bit to be let out from the slight control she had over him in front of the Ennead.

“I must admit I do not miss the sound of that voice.” Harrow turned solemnly to the gods, the nervousness falling over his face like a performance. “But speak, old master, to the point,”

“Do you not seek to release Ammit from her tomb?” Khonshu accused, Marc’s body being seized by the god’s might. Dove grabbed his wrist in her own when she saw his chest heaving heavier by the moment. The man looked as if he might throw up any second from the weight of it.

“I was in the desert, but if visiting the sands were a crime, the line of sinners would be longer than the nile” Harrow said calmly, his hands weaving together in front of him to solidify the guiltless ploy he was giving, “Khonshu has searched for Ammit’s tomb since he ensnared be into his service. His vision is obscured by jealousy, paranoia and his-”

“COWARD,” Seth struck her chest with a lightning bolt of fury, the growl drawling from her throat in a volume that made her jump, Marc glancing her way when he felt her fingers clutch him ruthlessly, “Filthy, conniving CRAVEN,”

“Do not trust the word of shamed gods,” Harrow countered, turning to glare at the pair that looked at him helplessly, their chests pounding with the strain of a deity overtaking their vocal chords, “These two are unhinged, as willing as one another to cause destruction in the human world. And as for their avatars themselves,” Harrow huffed, though a smarmy smile shadowed his face as he looked between the two of them, “Well, they are about as unwell as the gods they serve,”

“How do you mean?” Hathor asked, a small frown scrunching her gentle almond eyes.

Harrow considered the two of them, his piercing gaze falling on the young woman first, a hint of malice flicking over his face as he watched her squirm under his ruthless stare, as if waiting for the killing blow, waiting for him to run a sword clean through her sternum. Get it over with, her eyes pleaded, let this be done, shoot me between the eyes and set me free.

“This girl,” He began, her breath catching in her lungs, “She seems innocent enough, what with the crocodile tears and the deer in headlights look about her,” Harrow gave her one last sneer, before turning back to face the gods with a faux woeful look plastered on his face, “But this fawn is in fact the hunter with a loaded rifle. I have seen what she is capable of, the anger and vengeance the tortured soul wishes to unleash on those who stand in her way, the corruption in her heart- it’s no wonder Seth found her suitable for his needs,”

Her mouth had gone dry, she realised as she swallowed roughly, tears burning behind her eyes, she felt Marc staring at her. Fuck. He saw her, he saw right through her. And if he saw her, then what would Marc think of her? What would he see if he were to crack open her muddled little mind and peer in? He would hate her. And oh god, Steven-

Her throat bobbed with a silenced sob, her chin wobbling pitifully.

“And as for him- This is a man who literally does not know his own name.” Harrow continued his onslaught, making Marc clear his throat uncomfortably at the fact his biggest wound was bared open for the taking, the scar that wouldn’t close having salt poured into the crevice. “He has a marriage certificate under the name Marc Spector-”

“LIAR!” Khonshu’s agitated attempt at regaining composure was thwarted by the glisten in Marc’s lost, cocoa eyes that seemed to do nothing but watch as his chest was pried open.

“Employment records under the name Steven Grant,”

“Stop,” This time it was Marc speaking for himself. His voice hoarse from Khonshu’s yelling, yet it was more of a wounded yelp, a plea for mercy from the man who knew everything about him, knew all of his darkest corners, and threw it out in the open for them all to see.

“I have seen him speak to himself-”

“Shut up,” Marc yawped, an animal in a cage yowling for release.

Dove felt the anger begin to rev under her skin once more. Marc had been immovable since the moment she knew him, the moment she saw him in her bedroom stiff as a rock as she’d hugged him. Had rarely shown anything but a cold indifference, if not the occasional smile. He had been the only thing keeping her sane between the entire situation, the one person she trusted to quite literally drag her back from the depths of death a thousand times over. Because, while he was a moody sod most days, it was Marc. And Marc would fight tooth and nail for her.

“I have no idea how many personalities he must possess,” She felt Marc weaken under the hold she had on his wrist, “The man is clearly insane,”

It was happening in slow motion. Just as Marc crumbled into a disheartened sigh, the frustrated tears welling in his eyes, the final chord holding together her growing temper snapped. She felt her vision blacken for a moment, as if she had taken a long blink, which she wished she had in hindsight, she’d read on the internet closing your eyes and taking a deep sigh temporarily relieves stress. Something about giving the synapses a moment to process information. But she hadn’t. And neither did she feel the imposter crawling up her spine the way she did when Seth wanted her body as his own. No this was her, this was her entirely alone.

By the time she had come to, she had taken two quick steps towards the snide man, fingers outstretched for a sharp slap across his high cheekbones when she felt five metal claws hugging her fingertips, the razor edge of each enough to take a sizeable chunk out of his face had she made contact.

But she didn’t. Because no sooner had she gotten an inch away from doing so, her hand was stopped by a cerulean ring cuffing her hand mid air, preventing her from moving in the slightest.

Osiris. His hand held the same bluish-grey energy between his two fingers as he seethed down at his younger brother’s avatar.

“We will not tolerate violence in this chamber,” He bit, forcing the girl to her knees to face him, her head hung to the floor. She felt Marc’s eyes burn the back of her skull, his legs itching to approach, to wrap her up in his embrace, if only to protect her from Osiris’ hate. She chewed her cheek in guilt, when a thought quickly struck her as she looked to her knees ashamed.

Her suit, the one Seth usually donned her in. She was in her suit. She had never summoned her suit before, had steered clear from the fact entirely actually, yet the material was stretched comfortably over her skin as it was all the other times Seth shoved her consciousness aside to make room for his own deeds.

But she had summoned it herself.

“It brings me no pleasure to tell you these are two deeply troubled individuals. Khonshu is taking advantage of him the same way he abused me, the same way he aspires to abuse this court. As Seth is preying on a chaos-filled, young woman whose only goal is nemesis. Take action before it is too late,”

Dove tuned him out, her own internal crisis weighing far heavier than the insults Harrow was hurling to her. She had brought out the Hellhound herself. Not as Seth’s puppet or as his doll for toying with but as herself. As a reflection of what she wanted to do to Harrow.

For the first time in almost a decade, her body felt like it was almost her own again.

“Let us speak to Marc Spector. He seems the more reasonable of the two,” Horus ordered, and Marc almost scoffed at them had he not been so hurt by Harrow’s words, not been so defeated by the doubtful looks the Ennead had in their once cold glares now that his illness had been revealed. “Are you unwell?”

It was direct. Inescapable. And yet he didn’t care for their judgement anymore, just the fact she seemed uncomfortable being forced to her knees so harshly, a mongrel forced to sit quietly for a bone.

“I am.” He breathed hoarsely, “I am unwell. I need help. But that doesn’t change the fact that this man is-” Marc could barely finish his sentence without trailing off in angered tears as he glowered at the floor, knowing there was very little he could say to change their minds, “Would you just let her go? Please?”

“This is a safe space for you to tell us if you feel exploited by Khonshu-”

“This is not about my feelings, I am not the one on trial here, nor is she. It is him,” Marc seethed at Hathor, Yatzil, who’s pitiful eyes bore into his skin, flaring his anger, god would he just let go of her, look how her head hung low, how her knees pressed painfully into the cold floor, how she was forced to submit, “This is about how dangerous he is if you would just listen for a second,”

“He has committed no offence,” Osiris ruled coldly, tired, as if the situation bored him completely. “This matter is concluded.”

And that was it. The bonds that held Dove into low obedience were ripped away from her, her hands finding the floor gently as she stayed there, her head dipped to glare at the stone, the anger ebbing and flowing at her hot face like the banks of the Nile.

“And brother?” Dove’s head perked the slightest amount, though it was not her, but Seth responding to his counterpart on his behalf. She looked up at the god through broken, reddened eyes, a tear glistening on her cheek that she let fall to the ground with no fight. “Cause chaos like this again and you’ll be begging for a ushabti when I’m finished with you,”

With that, the avatars were returned to their bodies with moonlight white eyes, a jolt in every one of their spines, before they began heading back to their portals with not a single word uttered between them. As if Marc and Doves lives hadn’t just been raked out for all to see, all to judge. All to sentence.

Walking past the girl still crumpled in defeat on the floor, her heart too heavy to lift herself, Harrow watched Marc’s angered eyes carefully, a final sneer on his shit-eating expression.

“I’d leash that bitch of yours before she hurts anyone else, Spector,” He murmured, loud enough for the two of them to hear, not loud enough to cause a scene.

Like a dam breaking, her shoulders sank in on themselves, Marc quickly rushing to meet her on his knee, a warm hug wrapping around her where he could, just as she expected.

“Hey come on, we need to go, princess,” Marc whispered to her, and she could do nothing but give a sad nod, avoiding his eyes at all cost.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, a sob crawling up her throat that felt even more present when she saw her clawed fingertips staring back up at her, “I’m sorry I tried, I tried to push him down, I-”

“Shhh,” Marc soothed, nosing her hairline, “It’s alright, it wasn’t your fault,” He murmured, hands going under her arms to lift her off the ground carefully. She stood, not without clutching onto him, gently of course since her suit and weapons made it difficult to not hurt him, and the entire idea that she had conjured it herself seemed tainted by the way they had looked at her. The way anyone would look at her if they knew.

“Marc,” A voice whispered, but Dove was too lost in her own self pity to take note. She felt as if she was back on that beach, her eyes lost in a canopy of blue, the wind cold on her skin. Lost in the world, yet seen, too seen, by those gods, by Harrow. Too trapped in her past, in what she’d done, knowing there was nothing stopping what Seth wanted her to do. Feeling for the first time, with the suit around her that she had summoned, she had ownership over herself, feeling as if she entirely wanted nothing to do with it.

Release me, release me from this wretched body, release me from this head, take me from this pain with a quick death.

Yet.

Keep me here, grant me control, let me greet my own demise.

An equilibrium yet to settle. A scale tipping to and fro, a puzzle with no solution. A set of coordinates with no longitude. Continuing. Unanswering. A person missing half their soul.

She, impossibly so, felt worse than she had when she woke up.

She found herself again laying back on the hotel bed, staring at the white, plaster ceiling. After Marc had spoken with Yatzil about a possible solution to finding Ammit before Harrow and his followers, the pair of them had headed back to the hotel in silence. Well, Marc had attempted to make conversation as he led her to the taxi, but it was clear from her lack of response, only broken by the occasional sniff or nod of her head, that she was in no mood to talk.

Taking a deep sigh from her place on the cot, she lifted her hand to run over her tired face when she was stopped by a crusted sap rolled up between her fingers at the touch, and she let out a clear gasp, jumping up from the sheets.

In the daze of it all, she’d forgotten she was covered in blood under her suit that she coaxed into disappearing before the taxi pulled up. Her face, hands, legs, all smeared with the sticky substance that now stained the white duvet.

“Fuck, oh fuck, for bloody fuck sake, fucking shit-” She swore violently, bunching her fingers into fists at the sight, Marc ducking into the room from the small balcony faster than she could let out another curse.

“What’s going on?” He took one look at her sad eyes, the way the redness smattered over her face, guilt flashing in her expression as he saw the mess on the sheets.

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll have my guy tip the cleaners, it’s no biggie,” He brushed off, taking a step towards her, attempting to uncurl her fists manually with his much larger hands that had just as much blood on them. Though, it was mostly his from where his wounded knuckles were now weeping. “You should probably take a shower though, we’ll raise too many questions looking like this,”

She barely nodded, eyes glazing over as she understood what he was saying. Clean yourself up, you’re scaring the locals.

“They only have a bath,” She murmured quietly, avoiding his eyes, scratching at the blood that quickly dried on her arms, picking at it like the glue that stuck to your skin as a kid making crafts, coming away in thin, onion peel layers.

“I’m sorry if it’s not the nicest hotel around, but my guy did his best-” Marc snipped slightly, watching her face scrunch up in frustration.

“No, no, not that, it's lovely, I’m just-” She took a deep breath in, her lungs rattling, her throat constricting with the secret she’d never had to tell. He’d think she was ridiculous, a woman of her grown age. “I can’t take a bath,”

“Of course you can, I’ll go run it for you now,” Marc headed for the bathroom, sick of this back and forth. He just needed her clean, needed to get that shit off of her, get rid of that guilty look in her eyes, needed to fix everything-

“No, wait,” She stopped behind him as he turned the brass tap, hot water gushing into the luxurious, square bathtub that had been built into the nude marble, stacks of ‘freebies’ and candles lining the edge. This was definitely meant for a honeymooning couple wanting a sexy week away under the Cairo sun, banging in every room, not two people who were barely friends possessed by gods and racing to stop the end of human lives. “Wait, Marc,”

“What?” He barked, turning back to face her with the first annoyed glare he’d given her all day. She knew the pair of them were at the end of their tethers, and that he was trying to care for her in the way Marc always did, the kind that only half the time involved actual any affection. “Look, I know it’s full of rose petals and shit, but I’m trying, princess,-

“It’s not that it’s-”

“I know it’s shit but it’s the best we’ve got, and I know Steven would have gotten you somewhere better-”

“I’m scared of water, Marc,” He shut up at the sight of her deflated expression looking at him through embarrassment, shut up at the sight of her squirming on the spot at his irritated rant.

“Huh?” He hissed, utterly thrown off by her words, feeling as if he hadn’t heard her correctly, “You’re fine with water, you’ve showered at Steven’s before. Is it me? I can go if you want privacy-”

“No, Marc just stop, please,” She mewled, turning her head to her hands ashamed, picking at the skin that had come loose, no matter if it pained her so. “It’s not you, I- I can’t be underwater, like under under water, not like showering when it’s only there for a second, it’s more drowning than anything, so baths are just a no go,”

But she sounded far away. Because the realisation for Marc had set in, the understanding of being scared to be held down, to feel the water rising up your legs, past your knees, up into your lungs. And then he was back in that cave again, he was feeling the water trickle in, he was screaming for RoRo to talk to him, to take his hand, he was hearing his brother’s little body splashing, hearing the water crowd his throat, drown out his cries for help. He was climbing out of that wretched cave soaked and running back home to tell his parents what had happened.

Taking a laboured breath to remind himself he was in the bathroom, with her picking at her nails, the tap running being the only sound between them for a moment. Sighing heavily, he fought the tears that burned behind his nose, forcing them to be swallowed down in the interest of helping her.

“What if I stayed?” He asked, her head shooting up to look at him in shock, mortified he was being so brazen. Rolling his eyes at her naïveté, he continued, “I’ll turn around and just sit on the toilet seat, but I’ll stay. Make sure nothing bad happens,”

She went quiet for a moment. She needed to get clean, get this forsaken muck off her, it was driving her insane. The smell of it alone, fermenting under the hot sun, was turning her stomach, not including the fact she felt rotten every time she thought about where it came from. Those bodies, that boy.

She nodded, the hot water steaming up the window by the time she’d decided.

“Okay, yeah. I suppose that would be okay,” She murmured to herself, fidgeting nervously. “You’ll just sit right there?”

He nodded gently, his hands coming to pull her fingers from mauling themselves, “Absolutely. Right there.”

“And you won’t look?” She asked shyly, eyes batting up at him through tired lids, to which he smiled slightly.

“Not a peak, now come on, bath’s almost full,” He ducked out of the bathroom to allow her to get undressed, not missing the way her fingers seemed to cling to his hand for as long as possible before he left. “Call me when I can come in,”

“Okay,” She replied through the thickness of the door. Taking a deep breath, she tucked her clothes into a neat pile under the sink, despite the fact they were wrecked with the same red gunk she was going to have to scrub off her skin. Switching the taps off gently with two squeaky turns, she held onto the bath edge with a deathly tight grip. It was only a foot of water, and Marc was right there. He wasn’t here anymore. Bath’s had once been her favourite part of the day. She loved a bath, had never felt so relaxed. She wanted to scream at the way her chest locked up as she stood in the water.

It was piping hot, scalding her skin, and maybe it was the punishment she deserved for all the blood she’d shed. Maybe it was the toll she had to pay to get clean.

Sinking to her bottom, she couldn’t help but clench onto the side of the bath for support, eyes locked on the way the water swayed towards her. It was just a bath, she’d had one millions of times before him, he wasn’t here to-

“You can come in,” She called, conscious of the way her back was to the door, swishing some of the french lavender bubble bath in to make the water milky, obscuring any sight of her body he would have caught a glimpse of.

Not that he would try. Marc was much too respectful for that.

He came in wordlessly, shutting the door behind him to keep the warm air in the bathroom. Plonking himself down on the toilet seat, he saw her hair spill over the lip of the tub edge in his peripheral vision, but little more.

For a moment they were both silent, uneasy at the new atmosphere created. The humid air was thick in their throats, the excuse they gave themselves as to why they weren’t talking. Marc inhaled the sweet vanilla and floral notes of the bubble bath, cursing himself when his mind ventured as to that being what she would smell like all evening.

“I’m sorry the room is so…” Marc trailed off. What was he to say, so clearly meant for two people on a nonestop fuck-a-thon? Aside from the fact the minifridge was stacked with whipped cream and chocolate spread, not for breakfast he’d had to explain to her, the bedside table full of condoms, the bathtub filled with rose petals, it was very obvious they stuck out like two sore thumbs with their rare and short affections in a place like this.

“What? Straight out a porno?” She quipped, earning a short laugh from him, symphonying the splash that came as she began scrubbing at her arms finally.

“A high end porno atleast,” He corrected, the tension in his shoulders loosening when he heard her giggle.

“Right,” She drawled, leaning over to grab the chamomile scented soap, “No one’s getting stuck bent over a tumble drier any time soon in a place like this,”

Maybe it was the fact she couldn’t see him, or it was the least shitty thing that had happened all day, but Marc couldn’t help the way a laugh, a real, chest tightening laugh, spilled out his throat. It was completely out of character for his glacial demeanour, usually the best she’d get is a smirk he’d try to hide or a huff through his nose. But it was a true, amused laugh. She smiled, despite the water coming away pink in her fingers as she scrubbed.

A brief moment passed over them where the only sound came from her hand dipping in and out of the water. This wasn’t so bad, she supposed, if she ignored the way her stomach rolled with bile every time she felt herself slipping further into the water. The milky pool itself wasn’t what scared her, it was the waiting to be pushed under, held under despite her clawing and scratching at his arm. It was his way of keeping her in check, reminding her even in the bathroom she was not permitted to privacy, to her own thoughts. She still felt his hand weaving its way into her hair, shoving her down until the water rushed up her nose, the gasp she’d let out choking on the exotic scented liquid. It was all just another one of his little games, and when she’d resurface, spluttering and clamouring out of the tub, he’d simply laugh and tell her to stop locking the door.

She hated the smell of that soap anyway. Too rich, too perfumed, too fake.

“I used to bath my brothers when I was younger,” She said after a while. She didn’t know why, or what had made her think about it, or why Marc needed to know, but she said it anyway.

“Yeah?” He replied, sounding distant as he picked at the blood under his own fingernails. “How many?”

“Four, all younger,” He blew air out of his cheeks solemnly, “We didn’t have much money, it was just my dad and he could never keep a job to save his life. I tried getting a job but turns out minimum wage for thirteen year olds is pennies,”

Marc stayed quiet, chewing at his lip. He had yet to ever hear her talk about brothers, or parents, or anything other than Steven and how much she wished he was here. That and of course why James Bond is a chauvinist, though he knew the first one was much dearer to her.

“Sounds rough,” He bit out, feeling the need to remind her he was still listening. He saw her shrug from behind the curtain of hair that fell behind her, obscuring his view.

“We got by. I was hungry some nights, but we were happy. They were happy. That’s all I cared about,” Marc felt a guilt gnawing at him. Sure, after RoRo passed his mother became a beast that had yet to release him from her claws, but they had never worried about money. Their house was easily three stories high, he had a meal three times a day, Elias always took him out to buy a new toy when Wendy had been particularly cruel. Birthdays, Hanukkah, Thanksgiving, he always had whatever he wanted. Anything, except his mother’s love, but that couldn’t be bought, could never be earned back for what he’d done.

He felt disgusted with himself for being so self piteous about his childhood when Dove had barely afforded to eat at risk of her siblings going hungry.

“I used to get Matty in there first, he was the oldest. Only a couple years between us but he loved when I would give him his toys the others weren’t allowed to play with. We used to have to share everything, clothes, toys, school books, so having his own boat in the tub made him feel special.” A smile, achy but good, passed over her face, a warmth blossoming in her chest at the thought of the life she hadn’t had in so long. “He knew he had to be quick because there was only one tub of water to last all five of us, so we used to play ten rounds of I-spy and then he’d have to get out. Eventually he’d pick the most difficult thing to spy so I’d never guess and he’d get to stay in longer.”

Marc stopped then, watching the back of her head with a silent stare, quickly understanding she was in her own world entirely. “Then it was Sam’s turn, he was a year younger than Matt. He hated getting shampoo in his eyes so insisted I washed his hair for him, even though he made me swear to never tell his friends because it would damage his street cred,” She chuckled to herself, sounding far away from where Marc cracked a small smile, “Kid was seven years old and thinking he was tough enough to take on the world.”

“The other two?” Marc prompted with an ache, a need to know more. More about the little Dove that tended to her hatchlings, to her nest, whose voice sang with something he had never heard from her, a sad kind of happiness he never thought possible.

“Joey was next. He’d start to complain that the bath water was getting cold by this point so I’d sneak some water in from the kettle. He was a little younger than us, I think mom and dad had thought three was it for them. But two years after Sammy, out popped Joey. Fattest baby you’ve ever seen. Refused to speak until he was three, and then suddenly he was blurting out full sentences.” She smirked, eyes glazed over as the pink swirled into the water, beginning to run out of where it dried in clumps in her hair. She would need to wash properly, she realised. Wetting a flannel, she held it behind her, careful not to get any droplets on Marc’s leg. “Marc?”

He snapped out of the reverie he felt he shared with her, his head filled with the image of four little boys, a mirror of her. Maybe their noses were a little bigger, their jaws sharper, but their hair would fall over their shoulders the same way, unless she’d trimmed it for them. He pictured her running ragged after them, reminding them to floss, to tidy their rooms, to do their homework.

“Yeah?” He asked, taking the cloth from her hand.

“Would you be able to get the…” Blood. Blood. Blood. “Stuff out my hair please? I can’t get my head under but it’ll dry soon if I don’t get it now.”

“S-sure,” He said softly, almost caught off guard that she was inviting him to get even closer to her nude form. Setting a towel on the floor, he turned the small bin over to give himself a seat as he gently ran the wet cloth over her locks. He would need to use shampoo probably, there was some on the side of the sink but he refused to push her. “What about the youngest?”

“Micheal,” She said, her voice pure with sweetness. “He was definitely a surprise. Came three months early, came out kicking and squealing like he had a vendetta against the world.” She chuckled to herself. “He was so tiny I could get away with washing him in the kitchen sink. Matty would say we could peel him and put him in a stew with the rest of the potatoes. But he was so good, he would follow me around when I got home from work, even when he turned into a teenager he would never leave for school without hugging me and making sure I had lunch. I never did, but I would lie because otherwise he would worry too much about me,”

The crimson seeped out of her hair with every brush of Marc’s hand against the locks, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up hearing her bliss. She was different like this. Yes, she was usually happy, bar the few times she had gotten teary over the blood and gore, but speaking about her brothers made her glow with something new. A bliss he hadn’t seen in her yet. One he wished he could cling onto with everything he had, keep her wrapped in like a bubble of her happiest memories.

“By the time I got in the bath it was cold, like fully cold. And the water was dirty, I tell you three boys and a baby get into so much mess than I’d give them credit for,” She continued, her eyes fluttering closed at the way he gently stroked her head, stopping every once in a while to re dampen the flannel in the water. There was no way he could see anything since the soap had made it so cloudy, but she didn’t think she could find herself to fully care with how loose her body felt, floating under the heat. She found herself trusting him enough to lean back into his hold, relax under his touch instead of flinch. Because it was just Marc. And Marc would never do that.

She tipped her head back to give him an easier access to her scalp, sighing when his fingers seemed to pick at a clump, removing it manually when it wouldn’t release with the cloth alone. Her stomach flipped as to a guess as to what it could have been.

Flesh? Brain matter? You tore those men to pieces like the savage you are, it’s no wonder Osiris said the people were scared of you, you’re beastly, disgusting loathsome creature who deserves every bit of pain Seth gives you-

“Four brothers and a father? You and your mother must have been ripping your hair out in testosterone,” He said, gently smoothing the tangles out of her tresses, continuing to wipe at the tangles until the water ran clear.

“Just me. Mom ditched when Mikey was born,” She said calmly, though she felt his hands stutter as she did. “It’s fine. She believed that giving her son’s biblical names meant god couldn’t see her drug benders. I think she forgot her kids could though,”

Marc hesitated. Words, some that he couldn’t fathom putting together, caught in his throat. He hated the pity people would give him whenever he were to divulge his own secrets he kept hidden in the dark rooms of his mind even Steven had no access to.

“Please say anything except I’m sorry, otherwise I may have to give you a big wet slap across the mouth,” She quipped, relieved when she heard a small snigger, finally. She’d hate to lose that calm, carefree version of Marc she’d had this evening. Hate to scare him off like the spooked rabbit he was, send him racing down into his dark burrow again. “But yeah, it was grisly being the only girl until Billie was born,”

“Billie as in another brother?” Marc asked with a confused frown.

“Billie as in my niece,” She replied, making a gentle start to clean the gummy resin off her face, “She was named after Billy Joel when Matty lasted all of one week being sixteen and got a girl pregnant. Girl bailed on the kid as soon as she was born, Matty felt like he could do a better job of it than our dad could, and Billie was family. Although she somehow got it in her head that she was only allowed to listen to Billy Joel since that’s where her name came from,” She snickered, remembering the countless mornings she chased the naked toddler as she screamed ‘We Didn’t Start the Fire’.

“How old is she?” Marc asked, the water running mostly clean now, yet his gentle pawing at her hair had yet to stop, more for his own state of mind now than her own. She was so soft, soft everywhere. Even the way she sighed into his touch, the few times his fingertip had met her neck, met the top of her spine. Soft, warm; inviting, addicting. Clean, good, pure, god she was heaven on earth. Fixed, he could fix it, fix her hurts.

“She’s…” Dove quickly counted in her head, coming up with a thick throat when she figured the answer. “Nine. She’ll be nine now,”

Nine. She’d missed so much of her little life, she’d barely been at school when she’d left home. Missed her losing her first teeth, missed her learning to ride a bike, missed moving to bigger school.

She’s better off without me. Dove chided sourly, though tears built in her eyes.

“You see her much?” He prompted, letting the short bout of silence settle over them as she rinsed her face carefully.

“No, I uh-” She cleared her throat, her head tilting down to play with her fingers, picking with her thumb nail under the rest, “My brother’s don’t speak to me anymore,”

Marc froze. This, unlike the other time he’d been ready to apologise, felt like dangerous territory. While her mother walking out had felt like passing news to her, this felt like a rope unwinding thread by thread, getting ready to snap in his face at any point.

“Oh,” He eventually came up with, stuck between wanting to ask more and wanting to keep his distance. A tug of war between himself and wondering what she wanted him to do. What Steven would do. “How come?”

“Just you know, life got in the way. We all said some things, did some things,” She sniffed, her eyes closing as she skirted around the truth, “Truthfully I don’t deserve their forgiveness even if they did want to talk,”

“Come on now,” Marc reasoned, his eyes filling with a softness only she saw, his fingertips caressing her scalp with a gentleness he didn’t know his battered hands could muster. “I’m sure that’s not true,”

“It is,” She cut him off definitively, “I think, sometimes, maybe I was just born wrong. Like I just came out the womb rotten. Like I deserve the way the gods looked at me today, like I’m every bit as revolting as Harrow says I am,”

“Hey,” Her head flicked over her shoulder at the anger in his tone. She hadn’t meant to spill, hadn’t meant to overflow her brain like that, have the words jump right out her throat. Maybe she was too relaxed here. She expected judgement, or disgust, or pity. But no, Marc just looked pissed. “That is not true, do you hear me? Everything he said about you is wrong,”

“But if he’s wrong, then why does all this happen to me? Why does it happen if I don’t deserve the badness?” She asked him quietly, because Marc knew all the answers. Marc knew everything, always knew what to say even if he didn’t realise it.

He took in her damp, clean face that stared up at him in naive grace. Her eyes gazed right up at him into his soul, seeing past every defence he had tried to throw up against her, everything unintimate between them gone as she soaked away the blood.

“Sometimes these things just happen to people. Sometimes there is no deserve,” Marc said after a moment to chew on his words. His hands cupped her face gently, her eyebrows furrowing as his thumb wiped the wetness from her cheek that rolled down in a couple glistening bubbles. “You are amazing, do you hear?”

She was silent.

Marc, in what was possibly the most tender thing he’d done since he’d first met Layla, slowly leaned forward, his lips coming to rest on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered closed, a held breath exhaling on his clavicle, cold unlike the warmth of her cheeks.

He drew back, the scent of french lavender and vanilla invading his lips, tasting sweet on his tongue.

And yet the pit of guilt only sank in Dove’s heart at the gesture. The pit that devoured her every second of every day. She didn’t deserve his kindness, his sweet words or his saccharine kisses. Marc would hate her if he found out what she was, who she was. If he knew the reason she left home, left her brothers.

If he knew she was a murderer.

MCU

@blackcat420---69

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[zoeykallus]

Hello there! May I ask for a big favor? Could you write about Tech, after THE FALL, you know? About how he survived, maybe badly hurt, and how Hemlock wants to experiment on him. But female reader is an assistant scientist or nurse working there, and they fall in love, and she frees him?

Aloha!

Sorry for the late (and very long) response! Okay, this is something I can get behind. Hold on, I got you.

Tech x Fem!Reader One-shot - AFTER THE FALL

Warnings: ANGST/Hurt/Injured Tech/Tension/Fluff/Comfort

______________________

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

______________________

First, euphoria floods him as he is slowed down more or less gently by the branches of one of the huge trees. But then he hits a thicker branch that breaks several of his ribs. Tech can't breathe for a moment, falling further, he slows down as he continues to fall through a tangle of branches. He loses his helmet, the branches whip him in the face, leaving bloody bruises. Then he loses his goggles. His hands automatically shielding his face as best he can. He can barely see, but he knows the ground is getting closer. The impact is hard, not fatal thanks to the tree, but extremely painful nonetheless. His right shin breaks, the sound unnaturally loud, and the pain travels through his body like a lightning strike, sharp and violent. The impact on the broken ribs does the rest. At first, his breath catches and his voice gets stuck in his throat. But finally a scream comes across his lips, shortly followed by a groan, his breath heavy with pain. But not only pain, also panic is spreading. He is badly injured, defenseless, in the middle of a forest full of alien flora and fauna and the Imperials who will surely search for his corpse soon and if he was unlucky, they would find one too. Tech lost his weapons in the fall, his visual aid, helmet and probably a few other things. For a moment, he wishes he had just died quickly, cursing the tree that gave him false hope only to take it away.

His fingers feel for the com on his wrist, unsuccessfully. He pulls off his glove with his teeth to feel for it more effectively. His fingers slide to the com again. Broken. "Kriffin hells," Tech groans in pain. It doesn't matter that he's still alive, without a com, with his injuries, without his goggles, in the middle of nowhere, his chances of survival are practically non-existent. He can only see his surroundings dimly, blurred outlines, blurred colors. The pain is bad enough to make him nauseous. Tech tries to breathe against the pain and rummages blindly with his fingers in his remaining belt pouches for the emergency painkiller. Some of the pouches are torn from his belt, and the belt itself is also hanging by a thread. He finds what he is looking for, hastily injects himself in the leg. The drug works quickly, the pain slowly subsides. Tech allows himself to breathe for a moment. The pain may be temporarily relieved, but his situation has not changed. He is afraid, for the first time in his life he is really frightened. It's a more than uncomfortable feeling. He is alone, helpless, his brothers think he is dead. Tech feels the wind brush across his damp face, and he realizes he's crying. "Pull yourself together, Tech, you're a soldier, you're smart, you'll find a way out," he says to himself, trying desperately to believe his own words.

But he can hardly move despite painkillers, he doesn't even know where to go, can't see his surroundings properly. Tech tries to crawl, but he repeatedly has to give up and lie down. The hours pass and the painkiller begins to wear off. The pain slowly creeps back into his body, steadily, increasing. On impulse, he calls Hunter's name, the big brother who always bailed him out, even as a cadet. He knows no one can hear him, but it's a helpless, automatic impulse. At some point he begins to drift, he's not sure if he's just tired, if he's dying, or just passing out, Tech just knows that his senses are fading, little by little, slowly enveloping him in darkness.

Lights, echoing voices, the smell of disinfectants, are the first things that reach Tech's senses as he slowly regains consciousness. The ground on which he lies is cool, hard. He can't immediately make out the words being spoken around him, he only understands snatches of them. "... the wounds will heal.... much potential.... take good care of him.... this will be an interesting project" Slowly he feels parts of his body again. The pain is just dull now, like an echo. Tech feels sluggish and suspects that he has been given strong painkillers. It is relatively cool in the room, he feels that all his equipment has been taken from him. The fabric on his skin is not that of his blacks, he has been clothed. He blinks several times, noticing that his vision is clearer. Tech wants to feel his face to see what visual aid he has been given, but he cannot lift his arms, there is resistance. He has been strapped to the surface on which he is lying. A figure appears next to him, his gaze clears, and he looks into the face of a woman, he finds her pretty, and somehow she seems familiar to him, but he doesn't immediately know why.

A man's voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

"You are not to make small talk with the project, only inject the serum".

Startled, you look up and into the face of Doctor Hemlock. His blue eyes are cold, despite the implied smile on his lips.

"Do what I told you and run some scans, then I need you in my office".

"Yes, Doctor," you say quietly, opening the small case of injections.

Hemlock looks at Tech, their eyes meeting.

"We'll see if we can't improve you," he says to the restrained Tech.

"Enhance?" the latter asks in alarm.

"A serum used for genetic manipulation, it should theoretically unlock more hidden abilities," is the brief explanation he receives, "I'm not going to lie, this whole thing could get very uncomfortable, painful, but a seasoned soldier can take a beating, can't he?"

With those words, Hemlock turns away.

Tech watches Hemlock disappear again, then his gaze twitches back and forth between you and the small case.

"This is a dangerous experiment," Tech says quietly, his tone clearly resonating with his unease, "genetic manipulation is a delicate thing."

"I know," you say quietly, taking one of the injections from the case.

Tech begins to struggle against the restraints, whereupon two Stormtroopers he hadn't noticed before start to stir. You pause and say to the men, "He's strapped down, no danger of escape, and no danger to me. There are other, more dangerous projects you should be monitoring."

The men look at each other, finally one says, "Fine by me. But call us if he gives you any trouble"

You nod curtly and wait for the troopers to leave the room. Tech is still writhing in his restraints on the table, but can barely move a millimeter.

"Calm down, Tech," you say gently.

He sees you coming closer with the injection and his breathing quickens, panicked.

"Now listen to me carefully," you say seriously, "I've switched injections. This room is video monitored, but without audio. So try to keep a low profile"

Tech blinks several times. The tone in your voice, conspiratorial, serious but gentle. He's torn between hope, fear and doubt.

"I switched out the injections. This is just saline and some food coloring to make it look just like the serum. Nothing at all will happen to you from this injection."

Tech frowns critically and says stubbornly, "Why should I believe you?"

You sigh softly and say, "I know it doesn't inspire confidence that I'm working with Hemlock. I just want to take away your fear, you'll see that nothing will happen to you from the injections."

"If you really want to help me, free me," Tech says shakily.

" This is not something I can do so easily-"

"Then why should I believe that nonsense!" he interrupts you angrily.

You push up his sleeve, feeling his muscles tense. He is still squirming uselessly in the buckles with which he is tied to the stretcher.

"Be reasonable, Tech, you're too badly hurt to try to escape, the baccta will take a few hours before you can walk again without assistance. That being said, this facility is well secured. Lots of troopers, droids, alarm system, lockdown mechanisms. You wouldn't get far, we need a plan first. Crosshair and I have been working on it for a few days. I just hope I can fool Hemlock with the serum long enough to get it done."

Tech's eyes grow wide, "You talked to Crosshair?"

You nod and say, "Daily, since he got here."

"How is he?"

"Better than you at the moment, even though he provoked Hemlock several times in the beginning, and he was often disciplined"

"Disciplined?" asks Tech brightly.

"Torture by electric shocks. Hemlock calls that corrective education."

Tech grits his teeth, then looks at you questioningly, "So you're helping him too. Why are you helping us anyway?"

You put the needle in place and Tech flinches briefly as he feels the sting.

"Because what's happening here isn't right. There are a lot of disobedient clones here, clones who have defied orders and Order 66. You guys have been through more than enough already. At some point, this nightmare has to stop. I only came here with Hemlock because I thought we could make a difference for the clones. But I soon found out that Hemlock had other interests and missions. So at first I started to ease the circumstances for the patients as much as I could. And little by little I managed to trick Hemlock into replacing the serum and so on. But it's only a matter of time before he figures it out. The doctor is anything but stupid, at the moment he's just very busy, with many… projects, probably the only reason why he hasn't caught me yet."

Tech blinks several times. The injection is over; at the moment, he feels nothing.

"You're taking a big risk," he says quietly.

You nod nervously and say, "I know if I get caught there will be no punishment, only execution."

The days pass, Tech's wounds heal, and you regularly send messages back and forth between the two brothers. You secretly pass on plans and ideas. But something is missing. The guys need floor plans, accurate data on troop movements around the compound, and information on all security and surveillance systems.

Getting this information is damn dangerous for you, but still you do it, little by little, skillfully, using the access codes of other employees among others. For days on end, you're under a constant flow of adrenaline, always in danger of being discovered. But you've finally gathered everything that's needed, except weapons.

"I don't know how to get weapons, the medical staff doesn't have weapons, only the troopers, and they're unlikely to give me their weapons willingly, I'm not a fighter," you say dejectedly.

Crosshair growls softly, "I'll figure something out, you've already done more than enough".

You say quietly, "I've given Tech all the information, like I did you".

Crosshair wants to nod, but his head is strapped to the table as you give him the fake injection.

"Good," he mumbles softly.

His serious face softens a little when he sees your worried expression.

"Don't worry, it's up to me and Tech now. You did what you could. Maybe you should come with us."

You look at him in surprise.

"Come with you?"

Crosshair shows a barely noticeable smirk and says, "Yeah, sure. Tech would be very pleased. If I remember correctly, he had quite a crush on you back when you were working on Kamino."

You pause in your movement, surprised.

"What?"

Crosshair laughs softly, "Don't tell me you didn't notice. From the moment you started working in the infirmary, he regularly hurt himself on his tools or fell, which miraculously almost never happened to him before you showed up. I told him several times it would be easier to just ask for your com number, but our Tech was just too shy. He was very disappointed when you suddenly disappeared."

"I had been transferred to Coruscant, unfortunately," you say quietly, still intrigued, surprised, and flattered by the news. You liked Tech back then, too. He always told a lot of stories, he had whole stories to tell to every question you asked him.

Suddenly Crosshair's expression changes, his eyes shift to the right, looking behind you. You hear the typical sound of troopers in gear.

"Hemlock wants to see you, it's urgent," growls one of the two troopers who have entered the room. You turn around and see that both men have their weapons at the ready.

"But I'm still not-"

"Right now," the second interrupts you.

Panic rises in you, burning hot and freezing cold at the same time. He must have figured out what you were doing, you think nervously. Crosshair thinks the same thing and automatically braces himself against the restraints, whereupon one of the troopers smacks him in the forehead.

You sit in the chair opposite Hemlock, at his desk. The desk is so gigantic that you both seem quite small next to it. Behind him a huge panoramic window, forest, mountains and clouds can be seen.

You have your hands folded in your lap, nervously kneading your fingers.

Two troopers stand at the door in a guarded position. Hemlock in front of you is calm, he doesn't seem furiously angry as you expected. Not at all. He seems strangely composed, calm, collected. You are not sure what would have frightened you more. There was something strangely, ominously subliminal about this calm, something you couldn't directly grasp, but it was there. Like a monster waiting in ambush.

"I know what you've done," Hemlock says quietly, after an awkward, seemingly eternal period of silence.

"Doctor?" you ask cautiously, still clinging to the hope that you're here for different reasons than you think.

"Please don't insult my intelligence by pretending you don't know what I'm talking about."

You remain silent, not knowing what to say anyway.

After what feels like an eternity, you sigh, and somehow some of the tension that has clung to you for so long falls away.

You say indifferently, "I would say I'm sorry, but that would be a lie."

Hemlock laughs softly.

"I have to admit, you have more moxie in your bones than most troopers I know. You may not be a fighter in the usual sense, but girl, you have guts."

You blink, trying not to let on that you're confused at the moment and don't quite know where you stand.

Hemlock claps his hands a few times, making you frown critically.

"You need to use that grit more constructively!" he says, suddenly sounding excited.

You want to sound cool, to say something cheeky, to not mince words, but his demeanor elicits only a confused, "Huh?" from you.

"I know," Hemlock says indulgently, almost understanding, "You think you're doing something good here, for these men. But you're missing the big picture."

As he stands up and comes around the table, you automatically stand up as well, prompting the troopers to point their weapons at you, but Hemlock waves them off with a simple gesture and the men lower their weapons.

You back away a step as he walks toward you. Hemlock stops, reading your posture, your demeanor.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, I wasn't planning to hurt you," he says calmly and finally continues explaining, "Now this big picture I'm talking about is why we're all doing these projects. The reason why all these projects are necessary."

You shake your head and say, "Nothing justifies what is happening to these people here".

Hemlock raises his finger and corrects you, "Clones, my dear, clones, not people. Copies of a man, not even a particularly honorable one. Copies of a bounty hunter. But that's not the point. What I'm getting at is the big picture. The purpose of these experiments."

"Improved soldiers for the Empire"

Hemlock smiles.

"That's right, my dear, that's right. Better soldiers, for the protection of our Empire and all the people who live in it, for the protection of every single citizen. Yes, we are experiencing setbacks and some of the clones are suffering terrible agonies, but the end certainly justifies the means in this case"

You shake your head and say, "No it doesn't, it shouldn't."

Hemlock shrugs.

"Wait until your home world is attacked, and no adequate protection is in place, then I'm sure you'll think differently"

Hemlock walks slowly, leisurely up and down. His gait is supposed to make you think he is relaxed, sure of himself, but the fact that he is walking up and down at all already exposes his inner turmoil.

You watch him and finally ask, "Why so restless?"

Hemlock stops, turns back to you, and looks at you critically.

"I'm thinking about what to do with you. Basically, you sabotaged me and probably broke some other rules that I don't know about at the moment. Normally I wouldn't think twice about that, but you're a very good assistant, despite everything"

Your heart hammers nervously in your chest.

"So you won't have me executed?"

Hemlock clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

"No. But I need to make sure you don't do something so reckless again".

Distracted by an unusual flying Omicron shuttle you see through the panoramic window, you say something absent-mindedly.

"And what do you have in mind, Doctor?"

Before he can discuss what exactly he means by that, the power goes out, for a few seconds, then the emergency power comes on and a shrill alarm sounds. A metal shield covers the huge window, blocking your view of the shuttle.

Hemlock seems tense. He tries to contact someone, but the com systems don't work. Your pulse is racing, nervousness, excitement. You know this can only be a sign that Tech and Crosshair are on the run. The Omicron shuttle, must be their brothers.

It's a satisfaction to see Hemlock panic, trying to make contact with his men, trying to grasp the situation, figure out what's going on. But then he spins around, furious, and he sees the smile on your face before you can hide it.

The doctor reaches into a drawer at his desk and pulls out a blaster from it, pointing it at you.

"You! This is your doing, this has something to do with you and those clones from the 99 batch!"

You blink, suddenly back in fear mode. You're relatively sure, that blaster in his hand, isn't set to stun.

The sound of a plasma cutter distracts you both. Someone is cutting through the metal guard and glass on the paned window.

"What the hell-"

With a clang and a thump, the material comes loose and falls into the room, directly behind it the ramp of a shuttle and an armed Tech in full gear. You barely have time to react, or say anything. Tech stuns Hemlock and the troopers with quick, well-aimed shots, deftly puts the weapons away again, and finally reaches out his hand to you.

"What are you waiting for? Come here!" he calls to you.

Your heart pounds in your throat as you grab his hand, and he gently pulls you toward him and into the shuttle, closing the ramp immediately after. He gently but firmly pushes you into a seat and straps you in.

"Hold on tight, we're not safe yet".

As if his words were the cue, the shuttle suddenly comes under fire and Tech rushes back into the cockpit. Crosshair sits at the gun, across from you sits a giant who grins kindly at you, next to him a clone who has almost more prosthetics than body parts on his body, also with a smile on his face.

The evasive maneuvers are violent, daring, you are jolted back and forth in your seat. You know Tech is at the wheel, and he's one hell of a pilot. Hell of a good one. Your hands are clutched to the seat, you're getting hot and cold, your pulse is racing. It's like the worst, gnarliest roller coaster ride of your life. Tossed back and forth in your seatbelt.

Then, finally, the shuttle settles into a steady position, and you hear the typical gentle noise of hyperspace.

Tech comes back out of the cockpit and looks at you.

"Are you all right? You look a little light-headed," he says with concern, and unbuckles your seatbelt.

You're dizzy and reality hasn't quite gotten through to you yet, but you finally nod and say, "Sure, I'm fine."

"I guess she's not used to combat maneuvers," the giant says with a laugh.

Crosshair, climbing out of the gun seat, laughs softly, still wearing the suit from Hemlock's facility.

"Tech's maneuvers take some getting used to," he says, winking at you.

Tech is indignant, "My maneuvers are extremely effective and have saved us several times, including today"

You slowly stand up, but your wobbly knees shake, and you practically fall towards him.

With a "Woah", he catches you, with his arms around your hips, your hands braced on his breastplate.

You look up and as your eyes meet, Tech's ears flush red.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asks quietly.

In the background, Echo pushes the rest of the group into the cockpit to give you a small moment of privacy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Crosshair still trying to look around the corner, but a hand on his collar pulls him away.

You blink and look at Tech again.

You laugh softly, nervously, his arms around your middle releasing a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. Almost automatically, your hands move to his shoulders.

"Sure, I'm fine. It's just like Crosshair said, I'm not used to this kind of flying. Impressive, I didn't think we'd escape."

Tech smirks flattered.

"Thank you for not leaving me behind," you say softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, whereupon his ears turn even redder.

Tech blinks several times, then smiles nervously and says, "You didn't think we'd leave without you, did you?"

You grin at each other.

Still smirking, Tech says, "This time I'm not letting you go without asking for your com number."

@rintheemolion

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#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #clone force 99 #sw tbb #tech #tbb tech #crosshair #bad batch tech #tbb hemlock #bad batch #bad batch crosshair #bad batch x reader #star wars bad batch #tech the bad batch #sw the bad batch #star wars the bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #tech x reader #clone trooper tech #tech tbb #tech x you #the bad batch tech #tech bad batch #tbb tech x reader #tech angst #tbb angst #happy end #crosshair tbb #echo tbb

[thiscrying]

Bad idea!

Kenny Mccormick x F!reader

𓂃𖤐 .* 𖥔៹ ࣪｡✧˚₊ ⊹

➟ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: NSFW, aged up characters!!!

➟ 𝘀𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀: "darling, are you ready for more?"

➟ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: Kenny Mccormick x F!reader

𓂃𖤐 .* 𖥔៹ ࣪｡✧˚₊ ⊹

You had an ex from three years ago, who you never really got over and was constantly on your mind, you had sex a few times after breaking up but he never really seemed to care about it.

It was almost 3 am and you miss him really bad, you even consider calling him but thinks about it and thinks this might be a bad idea.

With a joint and your phone in your hands, you take a hit and think about Kenny, his soft lips and the way his body felt on top of you.

Maybe it wouldn't be that bad if I called him, right? you wanted him, you desired him. Deep down you knew it wasn't going to stop so soon.

As soon as you click the call button, you feel a slight regret rising in your brain, it was too late to come back now. You're completely pulled out of your thoughts with a husky voice on the other end of the line.

"Hey sugar tits"

Oh lord.

Maybe i was just calling him to satisfy a late night craving, like i always did. This all started when i was drunk and decided to call him.

It was a bad idea to think I could stop.

"Hey kenny, i was wondering if you could come over"

"On my way, but what makes you call me this late at night, hm?"

"You'll see." You said and then hung up.

He knew what you wanted, and you also knew that you missed him more than you should, you would have walked away if his sex wasn't so strong, in fact the best you've ever had.

After a few minutes, Kenny shows up at your door, giving you a slow kiss. Wasting no time, he carries you to the bedroom.

"You look so pretty moaning my name with my cock in your mouth. I missed you." Says Kenny looking at you and approaching, he licks his lips and looks at you from top to bottom.

You both knew that you shouldn't be doing that, but what was the use of getting so far and everything ending up in vain?

Without thinking too much, Kenny quickly threw you against the wall while you stared at his beautiful ocean eyes, pressing your bodies against each other and putting your knees between your thighs. Without hesitation, your lips collide and the blonde asks for passage with his hands to your neck. Gently, Kenny pulls you to the bed, getting on top of you. How could he attract me like that? I really don't know and honestly? That was my last concern

"Look at you... so pretty. I'm gonna make you look like a mess, absolutely ruin you, slut." He said, and took one last look at the bottom of my eyes. Before you even think, you were already kissing once again, you quickly have a vague memory that you had sworn to yourself that you would never even look to Kenny's eyes again, you wouldn't make that mistake again. But as long as you were together, nothing really mattered, you both just wanted your bodies together again. Fuck, why did he have to be so goddamn hot?

You couldn't stop, not so soon, you were addicted to each other's bodies and maybe even wondering how you got there, anyway, fuck everything, I just want him on top of me now.

Kenny puts his hand under your shirt, giving a slight lift in your bra, thus giving way to his hands that, in turn, played with your hard pierced nipples. His kisses became more intense and went down to your neck, varying between kisses and hickeys as he started undressing you.

For a brief moment, it crossed my mind and I found that there was a reason why I always made the same mistakes: He was addictive. A fucked up drug that made me want more, and honestly? I would die of a happy overdose if Kenny were the cause. I'd always went back to him, in the end of the day.

"Show me how much you want me, how much you missed me." he said, running his pale, cold hands over your body, sending shivers all over you.

"Try not to moan too loudly, babe." He declared grabbing my thighs and kissing the inside of them, pushing my legs apart and running his fingers all over my skin, causing goosebumps all over my body. "I don't want everyone to hear my girl moaning, I'm kind of selfish in that sense."

He says, as he pushed away the last piece of clothing I had left and introduced his fingers into my cunt. My mind turned into a complete white and I could only think about how much I wanted that boy to fuck me.

My moans echoed through the room as he licked my clit. "M-more Ken, I want more."

You felt a smirk as Kenny introduced another finger into you, you felt your whole body electric and it didn't take long for your orgasm to spread throughout your body, making your legs shake.

You knew it was a bad idea needing him so late.

𓂃𖤐 .* 𖥔៹ ࣪｡✧˚₊ ⊹

HEY BITCHESS!!! IM BACK 😈

This was inspired by @kenny-the-ken and @n0tangeliccc

They're both amazing writers, check on their profile

Sorry this is short! I'm trying to improve! 💞

#kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mcormick x reader #kenny mccormick smut #kenny mccormick hcs #kenny mccormick #south park #south park kenny #kenny south park #sp kenny #kenny smut #girl in red #bad idea #smut #south park smut

[fuckmyskywalker]

🏹 " "You'd better be quiet or everyone's going to know what a naughty little slut you are."

For Anakin 🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

— CW: 18+, smut! Anakin is mean. He is kind of toxic and he is such a bastard in this one sorry, I was in a mood for mean!Anakin. PiV, dirty talk, choking, (kind of?) exhibitionism. Minors DNI 🫶🏻🔪

– A/N: Hope you like it Anon ;).

Crawling back to his touch is always a bad thing, but it feels so good it drowns all the guilt and remorse. Anakin knows your body like the back of his hand, biting, kissing and thrusting in all the right places.

His love is addictive, as much as it is toxic. His tongue knows the patterns below your ear all the way to your chest that make you moan and buckle your hips, asking him for more, begging him to stay one more night, which always ends up being ten more nights. Anakin is a drug, a drug with tanned skin and blue eyes, a drug no one warned you about.

The meditation room used to be your sanctuary. A place to hide from the exterior, from the cruel world that threatened your sanity— Until Anakin managed to corrupt the only good thing you had left. It was one of his favorite places to bend you over and take you, claim you as his property and use your weak mind as a form to boost his ego and narcissistic self esteem. Why? Because it had all the privacy he needed to break you down and see the pieces he loved to pick up, build, and break again.

His hand kept your face against the soft meditation mattresses, while the other guided his hard length between your wet folds, slowly sliding it inside you. Anakin groans quietly, panting and smirking wickedly, completely aware of the effect he has on you; Always giving you just enough to keep you coming for more.

"Good girl, I like you more when you don't put up a fight" Anakin whispers, caressing your lower back with his flesh hand, sending electric waves straight to your core. He is so sweet when he wants to. "So pretty... see? This is what you were made for, to please me, to be mine."

His hips pull back, keeping a steady pace. Normally he is rough and relentless, but apparently today he was feeling generous. "Say it."

Anakin, just like he was outside the bedroom, is extremely talkative, he never fucking keeps his mouth shut. He doesn't know the meaning of the word: Silence.

"Say what?" You ask breathlessly, closing your eyes and arching your back, your own hips pressing backwards to meet his thrusts.

"Say you are mine." Anakin says as if you were stupid, rolling his eyes. "Don't act fool, we are having a nice moment."

"Are we?" You snap back, acting like you weren't rutting for him.

Your lack of cooperation infuriates him, he's so generous to give you the fuck of your life and that's how you pay him? With a different mindset, he removes his hand from your head to wrap it around the nape of your neck. Without warning, without consideration, without any self restraint, Anakin chokes you as he relentlessly pounds you, forcing your ass in the air by sneaking his arm around your stomach. The duality of a man: Anakin can either praise you or break you. Either way, you end up with a world-shattering orgasm.

The position looks and feels uncomfortable. Your body, flexible enough thanks to years of training, is having a hard time keeping up with this type of treatment. There's no doubt your back will be sore the next day, and the next one, and on and on, until he manages to trap you again and have his way with you.

On the bright side, the position allows him to hit that perfect spot effortlessly, over and over until you no longer feel the pain, only the pleasure. His large cock has the illusion to be reaching your intestines, rearranging them and bullying your poor, swollen pussy to its shape, length and girth.

Your moans increase in volume, to the point that you are almost screaming, and sure, the meditation rooms are constructed especially to muffle noise from the outside, from the inside... it may not be as effective. Your sweet, loud voice bounces against the tall, cream walls just like the soft suple flesh of your ass bounces against Anakin's thighs, smearing all the mixed slick between your bodies. The wet slapping is music to Anakin's ears, but it's similar to a fork against a plate for you; it is a constant reminder that Anakin ruined you, he ruined sex for you because no one will ever make you feel like this, no one will ever be able to fill you up just like Anakin makerdamned Skywalker does.

He seems to notice how much you are enjoying it, but as much as he prefers to make you scream until your throat is raw and worn, he knows outsiders might not be as fond— Plus, despite not having a committed relationship with you, Anakin feels entitlement over you.

And, if we are being honest, you belong to him as much as he belongs to you.

Bending over you, with his animalistic grin and manly groans, he hotly says against your sweaty face, with his hand still squeezing your neck so tight but not too tight that your vision begins to blur. "You'd better be quiet or everyone's going to know what a naughty little slut you are."

Perhaps he is being too harsh on you, but that has always been your dynamic, right? A part of him feels guilty, a hint of remorse for treating you this way, you are such a beautiful, wonderful strong person, so why can't he give you that?

As quick as the thought comes, it goes. The clenching of your sopping cunt around him washes the guilt away. You love it, you could've said no, and yet you didn't. You try to shake your head as a reply, but it hurts to even move your shoulders so you just mewl pathetically as a response, drawing a smile on Anakin's lips.

His release comes without a warning, just like it always does. He fills you up just right and the overflowing feeling is hot, warm and it brings you that world-shattering orgasm I mentioned before. And maybe Anakin has grown a soft spot for you after long nights of fucking, but he continues pushing his body to a brink of overstimulation so he can make you come.

You do, you reach that desired point so quickly it completely crashes your brain and turns it into mush. Anakin shows some vulnerability and moans softly as he strokes your hip with his hand, the touch feels intimate, almost lovingly.

But of course it doesn't last long.

The second Anakin slides his softening dick out of you with a wet sound, you fall over the mattress with a quiet huff. Breathlessly, you manage to stare at him from below, panting and unable to mutter a single word. He stands up, picking up his cloak from the floor throwing it to you, before walking away of the meditation room.

"Clean yourself up, you can keep the cloak."

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes! #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker prompt #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker fanfiction #mean!anakin #mean!anakin skywalker