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the-rio-grande-duran · 10 months

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Killer and the Sweetheart

Part Two

TW: Knives, killing, blood, dubcon, kinda cnc, some other shit probably

Summary: Serial Killer! Eddie x Virgin! Reader 18+Serial Killer Eddie murders some bullies and Reader is there. I had a dream like this end it would not let me be so here ya go. is very sloppy

The screaming really wasn't necessary.

The lights had been flickering all night. It was just a matter a time for them to crap out entirely. A few thuds join the shrieks as the other girls apparently run directly into each other.

" Ow!-Shut up.- What's happening?!!- Seriously shut up you're yellling like right in my ear!"

This could be it. You could finally escape, slip out the back door and just drive. I mean you wouldn't even be here if Anna didn't need a ride. But judging by chorus groans and breaking glass they might not last the night.

" Anna. Anna! I'm gonna go find the breaker."

"But it's dark!"

"Yeah well we can't just sit here. I'll be back."

You stub your toe about a 1,000 times on the way to the basement. Hand against the wall find your way. The box is cool and sticky. Sticky?

Another scream from upstairs. Different. Scared.

You flip the switch stumbling back to the door. Blood smeared hands struggle against the door. The screams are louder now. You can even make out some words. Strange nonsensical apologies. Promises to stop.

Why the fuck are they apologizing? They're the ones being... murdered. Jesus Christ you're listening to people being murdered. You retreat to the breaker box and wait.

It takes forever for the screams to stop. The silence that remains makes your ears ring. You almost miss the door open. You manage to flip the switch just as it opens.

"Oh, we playing hide-n-seek sweetheart?", a man's voice teases from the stairs.

Your heart is threatening to give you away. It screams louder at every thundering step. You've never felt like this. Terror setting every nerve ending on fire. You fight back a scream. Practically drawing blood as you bite down on your tongue.

There's a scraping sound against the wall. Slow. Teasing.

"You don't have to be scared of me you know."

The sound is practically forced out of you. A choked out whine of derision and disbelief. The footsteps stop.

“It’s true. I only play with people I know. People who deserve it.”

Your body betrays you again. An unwanted throb at the harshness in his voice. Jesus, you’re pathetic the most attention you’ve gotten from a man is being murdered.

“Aw don’t get shy on me now. Where’s those pretty noises?”

You bite down too hard at that, gasping in pain. He’s too close now his steps within arms reach.

“ There she is”

The light clicks on above you.

He’s looking down at you. Big, wide eyes boring into you. Dark and searching like he’s looking straight into your soul. An angel of death. Soaked in blood and wreathed in light.

You come back to your senses too slow, fumbling with the heavy wrench you’d grabbed. His hands snatch your wrist. Heaving rings biting into your flesh. He moves fast shoving you to the floor roughly. Your head hits the cement with a crack, tears springing to your eyes.

“Don’t-”

You cut him off. Teeth connecting with whatever part of him you can reach. Pulling and tearing like an animal in panic. You bring your free arm to the hand holding the knife. Shoving it as far from you as possible. You stay like this struggling blindly in a mess of limbs. Clothes tear. Skin bleeds. And soon he’s shaking against you. Laughing.

Then it’s over. He shifts so his full weight is straddling you as he shoves his knife beneath your chin. His other hand pins both your arms above you. You buck underneath him furiously. Desperate.

“ Hey, hey easy there Killer”, his knife skates just shy of your cheek. “ I told you I don’t wanna hurt you. But you keep squirming around like that I could… slip.” The knife is at your chest now right above your heart. “Now I’m gonna let your arms go but you can’t scratch me. Got it?”

“ Why don’t you want to hurt me?”

His smile changes then not the teasing smirk from the moment before. Something soft and surprised. “ I told you I only kill people who deserve it. You don’t deserve it. Do you?”

You shake your head. Mouth going dry from something that’s not quite fear. “Good”, he starts wiping some tears away. You gasp again surprised at the gentleness. “ You really do make such pretty noises.” You snap your legs shut at that trying to tamp down the heat inbetween there.

“Trying to buck me off again Killer? And here I thought we were getting close”, he growls bringing the knife back to your throat.

“No. No not I-”

“You what? “, the knife draws a tiny bead of blood.

“You know I think I’d rather die”

The laugh is sweet enough to make your heart ache.

“ Strange time to make a joke. Did I break your little brain there Killer?”, he says rapping your forehead.

“ Don’t think you’re in the position to call someone else strange Sweetheart “

That laugh again. It has no right sounding that cute.

“ I think I can do whatever I want in this position”, the last words are whispered straight in your ear.

“So what do you want?”

His lips taste like blood. But they’re soft, and so easy to lean into. His hand tightens on your wrists rings cold and harsh. Panic and arousal fill your stomach in equal measure. Knowing there’s nothing you can do if you want this to stop. He pulls away and you chase after him missing the contact. He laughs again bringing the knife to the hem of your shirt. Splitting it in two. You shove against him then panic winning out.

“Don’t like it?”, You could swear there’s a flash of concern as he says it.

“ I've n-never”

“ Is that what your little wiggles are? And here I thought you were trying to get away.” Fingers skate down your stomach making you shiver. “ But you wanna get closer”

You go for the same spot you bit earlier. Earning a yelp of pain and surprise.

“How’s that for close”

“Not good enough”, the knife is cool between your thighs as he reaches beneath your skirt. You still at once terrified he’ll cut you here of all places. But he’s careful as ever freeing you from your panties with intense precision.

“Fuck me, have you been this wet the whole time?” you clamp your legs down on his hand embarrassed. Not wanting him to go further. “Uh uh, Killer can’t go back on me now. Your whine is pitiful. You know you can’t deny him.

“Please, please just be gentle with me.”

“No.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #serial killer! eddie #slasher! eddie #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #smut #might add more to it later #my writing

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theupsidedownsrealestateagent · 10 months

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June 1986

Eddie Munson lived by the skin of his teeth, or rather the skin of whatever those demon bats didn’t chew like he was a discount steak at the worst grocery store in town. The healing process was exhausting, and humiliating. For his entire life he’s been able to be independent with just Wayne seeing his most vulnerable and carefully hidden parts of himself. The problem with fighting an evil wizard from hell isn’t the chronic pain and constant nightmares, but the ragtag stubborn family that follows after

While the Byers-Hopper family was in California packing to move back to Hawkins (why they would do that Eddie has no goddamn clue) Nancy, Robin, and Steve made Eddie’s and Max’s recovery their personal missions. Red he gets, she’s just a kid, a kid that’s been through this shit three times with them compared to Eddie’s measly one. Of course Eddie’s only Upside Down encounter would be the one that almost took him out. Even baby Wheeler hasn’t been this close to Death’s door. There was no reason for these former classmates to care this much. And yet they practically never left his side. He’d like to complain about it, but them helping out had taken a lot of the pressure off of Wayne’s shoulders, and that was the most important part of it for Eddie

If you told Eddie a year ago he’d be becoming close with King Steve himself he probably would’ve hissed at someone or just spoke some broken latin and let the general pop believe he was a demon. In hindsight that didn’t make it easier for Hawkins to believe he wasn’t a satanic serial killer. The point is he’s not supposed to be friends with people like Steve. Robin he gets, they make sense. His friendship with Nancy was surprising but after getting to know she was a complete and major dork, they clicked in a really cool way. But Steve? Steve was funny in a way that was different from anyone else Eddie knew. Steve cooked for him and his uncle during the toughest part of Eddie’s recovery, not well, but it was hot and filling. Steve held him as he cried from nightmares and when he was completely exhausted from his physical therapy appointments.

Eddie was in love with him and completely fucked.

***

The June heat was sweltering, Wayne was on a fishing trip, it was one of the first nights being left to his own devices since he could get around a lot better now. He was spending his solitude getting acquainted with his Darling, since his Sweetheart was destroyed and honestly now associated too much with death and near death experiences alike. The phone rings, Eddie grunts, stands and makes his way over to the phone, it takes him an embarrassing amount of time to get there with his aching knee, but he manages.

Before he could even get out a greeting the caller was already speaking, “Eddie hi! Hey Eddie, it’s me. Um me being Steve. Harrington. Shit you probably knew that–”

“Stevie, you have a shift with Robs today?” Eddie grabs a bit of hair to twist around his finger, lip bitten to hide his smile. No one’s home but him whose he trying to fool? Himself mostly. It’ll go away repeats in his head over and over waiting for Steve’s reply.

Steve chuckles into the line, Eddie’s heart is about to burst out of his chest Alien style. “Yeah we did have a shift together which I guess explains my totally out of character rambling. Don’t let that keep you from remembering what a cool and not dorky guy I am.”

“Hm sorry, but that’s not ringin’ any bells over here sweetheart, you sure we’re talking bout the same Steve? Steve Harrington? You know the major dork who babysits all these kinda freak kids who are definitely too old for babysitters?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart? Did he really just call his strictly platonic, straight friend sweetheart? It takes all of Eddie’s self control (which is admittedly extremely low already) not to brain himself with the heavy phone receiver.

Steve laughs a real genuine laugh at that. The rollercoaster of emotions Eddie is navigating through is enough to make his stomach hurt. “Apparently one in the same then.” He quiets after another small chuckle, and takes a deep breath, “Listen Eds I was wondering if you wanted to get out of the house for a bit? With me?“

"You know I actually am capable of taking care of myself for a few days even without a babysitter on standby? Just because Wayne’s not home doesn’t mean I’m about to croak in the night” Eddie huffed suddenly annoyed.

Steve lets out a tired sigh. Eddie’s gut twists in guilt at the sound. “Yeah I know that you drama queen, but um my parents are home actually. For once, and I. I just don’t want to be here tonight.” His voice goes even quieter, softer now, and filled with shyness, “I like spending time with you Eddie, even when I don’t have to make sure you aren’t dying in your sleep.”

“Give me twenty minutes to get ready.” Eddie goes for casual, he doesn’t think it works, given how fast the words leave his mouth.

***

If he didn’t die and come back a few months before today, he’d surely think he’s dead, or at least dreaming this moment, he’d sooner believe in a hell dimension… Damn he’s gotta get a new improbable scenario to describe the insane situation this moment absolutely is.

Okay so maybe it’s not as improbable as he’s making it out to be. Because obviously it is indeed happening.

Every summer Eddie always feels like a drowned rat, which is true today. His hair is frizzing everywhere, just sitting is causing him to sweat profusely. Steve however looks the best he’s ever looked, golden skin, perfect hair, his sun kissed face bringing out his freckles. He wants to reach out and touch, to stop himself he grabs his rubs at the twinge in his left knee. Steve clocks that action annoyingly quick. Maybe if he’s lucky Steve won’t call attention to it.

And because he’s a Munson the universe holds a giant middle finger to his prayers.“

How’s your knee today?” Steve asks him obviously trying to make it sound like a casual question, when they both know this is a long standing argument neither is backing down from.

Since he came home from the hospital Wayne and Steve have been conspiring to get him to use a cane. Which okay. Whatever. But at what point was using the cane just admitting defeat? He’s supposed to be getting better. Is getting better. Adding a cane to the mix was like adding a crutch (ironic but it emphasizes the point) he didn’t want or need. So sure, sometimes there will be days he can barely get out of bed to take a piss, but maybe if he kept at it, he’d be able to play, and jump around on stage like he’s always dreamed of.

“Fine, Steven,” Eddie bites out, because he’s nothing if not petulant.

Steve barks a laugh, Eddie’s heart drops into his ass, “Aw c’mon don’t Steven me, I just told you my parents are home.” He pouts but his eyes are shining so brightly with mirth.

Eddie scoffs and takes a piece of his hair to give his fingers something not stupid to do, like grabbing Steve’s lip and giving it a tug. “Yeah, I know, you good though? Or should I go grab Nancy for a little chat with good ol Rich Harrington?”

“Oh my god, you’re a menace. Did you know that?” Deflecting, Eddie notices.

“It’s been mentioned, alongside satanic cult leading murderer, but you know I get menace every now and then.

”Steve’s brows furrow, he looks at Eddie almost like he’s searching for something, he must’ve found it because he shakes his head and moves their conversation along, “Well I happen to know you’re innocent, and I also know your dinner order at Flo’s place. One grilled cheese with tomato, pickle on the side, curly fries, and mostly because I think you’re special, a strawberry and mint chocolate chip milkshake.” He holds the cup and wags it a little before putting it in what has become Eddie’s dedicated cup holder.

Eddie gasped, and his eyes started to take up most of his face, “No fucking way man, there’s no way you swung that. I’ve been begging Flo to do that for years! How the hell did you manage that?”

“Okay so I know this totally sounds like a cool line but I promise you it's the truth, but Eds, if I told you I’d have to kill you, then probably myself.” Eddie starts to laugh and Steve can only roll his eyes. “Flo is scary dude!”

“Says Hawkins residential monster hunter, huh a little waitress is scarier than a full grown Demogorgan?”

“No contest! I’d even take the junkyard ‘dogs’ a hundred times over before double crossing Florence Foster. And anyone who says otherwise has a death wish.” Steve starts pulling out his own dinner, his sun pink cheeks matching the setting sun. He must catch Eddie staring because he clears his throat and gestures for Eddie to fiddle with the radio.

It takes him a few minutes to settle on a station, but then he just ends up on his go to metal station. 102.9 The Metal Shop hosted by none other than the annoying Master Metal. Like seriously, he couldn’t come up with anything better? But it gets the job done. Plus it’s normie enough that Steve’s able to tolerate and even like some of it.

So they talk, and the night is warm but there’s a breeze now so they’re able to roll their windows down. Steve’s hair is lightly blowing around every few gusts. He looks so beautiful, and Eddie can feel his cheeks getting hot, he’s choosing to blame it on the heat. He’s also choosing to believe the swooping feeling in his gut every time Steve laughs is due to the greasy take out.

Before he can start believing in any other of his made up bullshit Master Metal cuts in declaring that for the next sixty minutes will be the dreaded Dedication Hour. He groans and goes to change it, but his wrist is now caught in Steve’s hand.

“What’s your problem? You love this station.” And Steve’s head is tilted in that way where he looks exactly like a dog in one of those shelter commercials.

Eddie is kind of baffled by this whole interaction, so he says exactly what his problem is, “Yeah of course I do, but it’s the Dedication Hour, they’re going to play the same bullshit non metal love songs, because people think they have a better chance to get their song on than all the other appropriate stations for their pedestrian tastes. No offense I'm sure that’s very much up your alley Romeo. You got a song on there for one of your many conquests eh Casanova?” Jesus Christ, even he knows he’s laying it on thick.

“First gross don’t call them conquests ,” He throws a fry at Eddie’s face, who in turn picks it up and dips it into his milkshake and laughs at the revolted face Steve makes. “Second, no I didn’t. That’s too romantic, maybe I would've for Nancy, but that wasn’t really her thing anyway.” His eyes stay on his hands, he takes a shaky breath, looks up at Eddie through his lashes. “Eds I’ve got a confession.”

All of the air gets punched right out of his lungs, he has to basically wheeze out an okay Stevie, eyes hopefully conveying to Steve to continue.

Steve sighs, tan hand scrubbing at his jaw, clearly nervous. He’s avoiding Eddie’s eyes, “My parents aren’t home Eddie.” He pauses, in that pause Eddie’s heart crumbles of course that’s what it is. So he’ll sweep up his heart to be put back together much later, and instead comfort his friend. Because at the end of the day, as much as he wants Steve, he’ll also take what he can get, so if Steve only ever offers friendship he will happily take it.

“Oh Stevie–”

“I just wanted to spend time with you Eddie, and I thought if I told you I needed a distraction from my shitty parents, it would’ve hid what I want to say, what I’ve wanted to say since fucking April.” He’s running a hand through his hair, completely flushed now. He’s never been more beautiful.

For the first time in his life Eddie doesn’t feel the need to run in order to avoid inevitlby fucking up what could be a good thing, a great thing. “Eddie Munson, I am so unbelievably infatuated with you, I want to kiss you so fucking badly baby, and and if I’m overstepping you’ve got to tell me Eddie because I’m two seconds away from just doing it even if you end up punching me.” His hand comes up, his thumb brushes away tears Eddie didn’t even know he was shedding.

“Steve Harrington, you are something special.” With a watery laugh Eddie’s hands are now cupping Steve’s face, his eyes are taking in every single detail, before he knows it they are both leaning in.

The kiss is soft, slow, and more tender than it has any right to be. They both took their time, afraid to break this delicate bubble they found themselves. This goes on for a few minutes longer until Steve, reluctantly, and annoyingly pulls away. Eddie huffs, and Steve has the nerve to fucking giggle.

Grabbing Eddie’s hand, he plays with the rings on his fingers, “I have one more thing to say.” He is quiet now, almost shy as if they weren’t just swapping spit two seconds ago. “Um so, this isn’t a casual thing for me Eddie. I like you in the way, where this has the potential for me to be forever, and I don’t want to lose you for being too much too fast, but this is something I can’t negotiate on. If we do this, it has to be the real thing. And if you don’t feel the same, we can forget this and pretend I didn’t ruin our friendship.

Eddie’s shocked that Steve could think he wouldn’t, couldn’t, feel the exact same way, if not more. “I don’t want to forget this Steve, this could be my forever too, I want it to be forever. I think we should do this, I’m all in big boy.”

They laugh, they kiss, and eventually Dedication Hour is over. Hand on his sore knee rubbing soothing circles that ease the pain a bit, Steve suggests going back to Eddie’s to have a real adult conversation about what they’re starting. To which Eddie agrees so long as after they’re done talking they can have an adult conversation with their bodies, and Steve pushes him back in his seat rolling his eyes before enthusiastically agreeing.

December 1986

It’s freezing out and yet Eddie couldn’t be warmer if he tried. There they sat in Eddie’s van, two pizza boxes between them, because according to Steve, Eddie’s preferred pizza toppings are abhorrent. Eddie has tried to argue but almost everyone he knows complains about his pineapple, peperoni, and mushroom pizza. A heavenly combination, especially when he compares it to Steve’s ham and extra olive monstrosity.

“You know babe, when I said we should grab dinner tonight, I was thinking something a little, I don’t know… balanced.” Steve sighed, while shoveling another bite in his mouth Eddie notices. Eyes squinting at his boyfriend’s hypocrisy.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, “Steve, Stevie, Sweetheart. It’s Pizza Hut, it even has a salad bar.”

“Eds we got takeout.” Steve deadpans.

“Yeah but the salad is out in the open air getting its nutrients on the pizzas by osmosis.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“What, you don’t trust me?” Eddie asks, feigning shock. “Don’t forget I’ve taken biology three times.”

“Even if you were right, this definitely is not covered under biology.”

“Well what the hell do I know anyways? I had to take biology three times.”

“Oh my god.” Steve’s trying to sound annoyed but the fond smile on his face is betraying him.

Seeing that look on Steve’s face nearly melts Eddie. In the last six months of dating Eddie’s sap meter has gone way up, and like the sap he’s turned into (ignoring the fact Wayne keeps wrongly insisting Eddie has always been a sap) he can’t help but lean into it. Steve makes him want to be that guy, that boyfriend. Which is why Eddie set up this whole night.

Eddie spent his whole childhood being told by his sperm donor that the Munson Curse existed and that’s why their lives were so bad. Absolutely nothing to do with Al’s poor life choices, that long effected his son even after getting locked up. But nights like this, with the snow falling, with Steve’s pink cheeks, and warm laugh, it has to mean something. It has to be the universe’s way of apologizing for all the bad shit. His mom dying, his ‘dad’ being a piece of shit, his near interdimensional death, having to now use a cane to get around, and not to mention all of the horrible stuff Steve’s been through, maybe it all wasn’t in vain.

So maybe the universe wasn’t so bad. It’s not great, every day is still a fucking struggle to get through. But the man next to him, made the hurt a little more dull.

The low radio pulls Eddie back to the present. Master Metal in the middle of announcing the dedication hour, when in the corner of his eye he sees Steve hands reach to change the station. Without thinking Eddie grabs Steve’s hands and entwines their fingers.

Steve turns toward Eddie, brows lifting with a questioning tilt. “I think I’ll survive one night of cheesy love songs sweetheart.”

“Uh huh, who are you and what did you do with my boyfriend?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, “I contain multitudes.”

“Since when?”

“April.” Which silences Steve who is very much biting his lip to avoid smiling.

In the brief silence that follows their conversation Master Metal is speaking again, “And now for the first dedication. For Big Boy,” Steve’s eyes shoot to Eddie, he goes to speak but Eddie just squeezes his hand, and whatever Steve was about to say dies on his tongue. “The last six months have been the best of my life. The fact that I’m even still alive is all because of you with the help of the family we’ve been able to build together. I love you, with every fiber in my being. I used to be so scared of loving anyone, running at the first sign of a good thing, but you are the best thing, the only thing. And I’m done running, so I’ll love you as long as you’ll let me, even while trekking back into Mordor. Love forever and always Joan Jett. Now here’s Journey’s 1982 hit Open Arms. ”

Steve is crying, big, fat tears, looking at Eddie almost in disbelief. He takes a grounding breath before frantically throwing the pizza boxes in the back. With the boxes out of the way Eddie finds himself with a lap full of Steve, which he’d never complain about.

With a hand gently stroking Eddie’s hair, and the other hand cupping his jaw, Steve leans in and gives Eddie’s forehead a kiss. Then both his eyes, his nose, his cheeks, finally his lips. Steve basically breathes his next words, “I love you too, so fucking much.” A pause, then a smirk flashes across his face, “Joan.”

Eddie’s eyes are now misty, but that doesn’t stop him from groaning at Steve’s response. “I confess my love for you and you tease me for my alias. For shame Steven for shame.”

“You’re right I’m sorry, this is genuinely the most romantic thing anyone has done for me you know.”

“I know it baby, but you Steve Harrington, you deserve all the big gestures. And I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving to you just how easy you are to love.”

Steve doesn’t even say anything to that, just lets his body do the talking, he’s attempting to pour in every last bit of his love for Eddie into the kiss, while not so subtly tugging his boyfriend into the back of the van.

Eddie’s laughing again, “No way gorgeous, I’m taking you home so I can show you just how much I love you. We are not going to defile the van after confessing our love to one another.”

“When did you become sensible?”

“I’ve been keeping company with some good influences.”

“I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

#steddie #my fic #they really love each other that’s it that’s the whole idea #shout out to my mom who was talking about 80’s culture and thus this was born

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fxnalboys · 1 year

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(FROY GUTIERREZ + CIS MAN + HE / THEY ) 🠒 BLACK MIRROR by sophie simmons is something that resonates with CHRISTOPHER ‘KIT’ ROSALES, the writer is glen ellen's very own HOPELESS ROMANTIC, who has been in town for twenty six years .while they are only twenty six, they can be very CHAOTIC but if their friends mentioned them, you'd think they were more CHARMING. in a town where every one knows everyone, it's hard to keep a secret, but i think the killer knows that [ REDACTED ], and it's bound to get out sometime soon. i wonder if the killer also thinks of ocean eyes, skyward stacks of books, pinky promises, like i do, when i think of them.

tw: cancer, death, hospitalization

Life can be pretty fucking shitty, and that all rings especially true when you’re young and think of nothing but the future, of growing up, never truly appreciating the time of your youth. Kit had learned this lesson early on, a child of the system, the byproduct of high school sweetheart love, two so enamored yet unprepared for the harsh reality of the world, so that baby that came out of spurious love would never know his parents, or at the very least those he shared DNA with. Not that it mattered as he never really lived in the system for long as some hopeful couple had wanted a baby for so long, but they just didn’t have any luck, so in some ways Kit was their miracle child. Besides the somewhat cautionary tale that was his birth, life was pretty normal for him, he was good in school, was an honor roll student all the way up until senior year when he was ready to venture out into the world and become a professional. At least, that was the plan, that’s what most young adults did once their high school career was over, go into higher education, get a degree, and make a career out of it. But on a night out with friends, one of the many that he’d come to know a night that was supposed to be like any other, his world turned upside down. Kit had passed out during one of the school’s football games, walking into the parking lot with his friends as they all celebrated the victory, he collapsed as he fell to catch up to them, and that was all he could recall as the darkness that was trying to invade from his peripheral took over.

The diagnosis was adenocarcinoma, and the fainting spell was brought on due to dehydration probably from the upchucking that he had done at home prior, thinking it must’ve been the corn dog he had ate that just didn’t sit with right him. They told him and his family about the available procedures and all that they could offer, and Kit couldn’t think, he couldn’t say a single word, all he could do was sit there and listen as the fear hit him like a truck. It dashed all his hopes and dreams of the future, as it looked grim, but he was up for the fight, as they call it. As if this thing was just another type of battlefield that he was wholly unprepared for, but he wanted to live, so what other choices were there? After a year in treatment, things started to take a turn for the worse, the doctors were giving up hope, and the look on his parents face as they tried to assuage the news didn’t help. Kit was left in that hospital bed looking at all the stories from his friends, moving on with their lives, going off into college, and he was just stagnant, deteriorating, as if his own body was waging a war with itself. After being told he only had maybe less than a year, he decided to spend his few remaining days in a place he had found online. A place that housed kids like him, kids who were terminal and wanted a better way to spend the rest of their remaining days. So as his bags were packed, he ventured off to what might be the best time in his life.

It felt like Hospice, except all the inhabitants were young, about his age, just young adults that for better or worse, lived their life as best as they could within this abode. He settled in quickly, made friends with the other kids and found in them a second family. They would all do everything together, they’d all tell the wildest stories that they could come up with, say what they would do if they ever got out that place. They’d steal alcohol, drink together, find themselves in the woods making a little bonfire, and Kit figured that it might not be so bad to go if you were surrounded by people who truly loved and cherished you, and knew exactly what you were going through. Kit met a boy, and their feelings for each other sparked quickly, it was beautiful and wild and real, and all the things’ people wish for, so he thought of himself as lucky in that aspect. That he got to experience what felt like love, real love, at least if only even for a little while. They promised they’d marry if they ever got out, but as the story goes, the good times can’t last. It should’ve been obvious given all their circumstances, but it still hurt, hurt like hell to know that seat at the table would never be filled by that person ever again. Here, he began to write, began to immortalize the people he loved in his stories, gave them all the grandeur and fantasy that they deserved. In his stories they got to live, carry out their lives, he gave them adventures, romance, every other amazing thing he could think of that he knew they’d enjoy. Little by little all these stories became a book, the first of many that he would never publish, at least, he didn’t think about it at first, didn’t think he’d ever get to see his work out there in the world. These were just stories he made for his friends, of his friends, and ones that he would keep for life…or at least until his time. Kit experience heartache many other times, as a lot of the faces he knew and loved had vanished, and their big group had dwindled, but even so they never truly left, not while there were pages and lips that said their names.

Then another miracle happened, the miracle baby of his parents got one for himself, new results that said he wasn’t terminal, and that while not fully recovered it meant he could put his life back on track. He was happy, sad, guilty, angry, confused, so many things all at once because…why him? Survivor’s guilt is common, and he knew that, be he didn’t know how visceral it would truly be until he was one himself, a survivor. After he left, he promised to himself to keep them all alive, and he did, his book got published and a bestselling author he became. That one book spawned an entire series, and he had made his friends ever living in those pages that millions of others now read, they fell in love with the same people he did, but they would never truly know how amazing each of them were, not like he did. Now he lives comfortably, playing the same video games one of his friends would’ve raved about, as if he had had kept something each of them loved and carried it with him forever, or as long as that could be. Still, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever find love, or a love as beautiful as his first, survivor’s guilt is a bitch, but it’s the bitch that he carries deep within his heart, and he doesn’t know if there’s anybody who could mend it, those battle scars.

#bludsintro #kit

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nightprompts · 2 years

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&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from the batman (2022), directed by matt reeves. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ two years of nights have turned me into a nocturnal animal. ❜

❛ it’s a big city. i can’t be everywhere. ❜

❛ fear is a tool. ❜

❛ the hell are you supposed to be? ❜

❛ i’m vengeance. ❜

❛ what does a liar do when he’s dead? he lies still. ❜

❛ happy fuckin’ halloween. ❜

❛ i wish i could say i’m making a difference, but i don’t know. ❜

❛ the city’s eating itself. maybe it’s beyond saving. but i have to try. ❜

❛ you’re becoming quite a celebrity. ❜

❛ have a shower. ❜

❛ if this continues, it won’t be long before you’ve nothing left. ❜

❛ if i can’t change things here, if i can’t have an effect, then i don’t care what happens to me. ❜

❛ you’re not my father. ❜

❛ some fresh berries there. ❜

❛ oh, this guy’s hilarious. ❜

❛ get out of here. you hear me? or that little suit’s gonna get all full of blood. ❜

❛ take it easy, sweetheart. ❜

❛ boy, you’re everything they say, ain’t ya? ❜

❛ you got a lot of cats. ❜

❛ i have a thing about strays. ❜

❛ you’re not safe here. ❜

❛ i can take care of myself. ❜

❛ hey, why am i starting to feel like a fish on a hook? ❜

❛ boy, you’re a real sweetheart. ❜

❛ look at me. ❜

❛ that’s one of the guys i got into it with the other night. looks like i broke his nose. ❜

❛ is bruce wayne making an actual appearance? ❜

❛ serial killers like to follow reactions to their crimes. ❜

❛ you have to keep up appearances. you’re still a wayne. ❜

❛ i’ve been trying to reach you. ❜

❛ i’m giving you a chance. no one ever gave me a chance. ❜

❛ it can be cruel poetic or blind. but when it’s denied, it’s violence you may find. ❜

❛ if you are justice, please do not lie. what is the price for your blind eye? ❜

❛ since your justice is so select, tell us which vermin you’re paid to protect. ❜

❛ is this how you get your kicks, hon? sneaking up on girls in the dark? ❜

❛ what the hell is this? good cop, batshit cop? ❜

❛ no habla español, fellas? ❜

❛ jesus. his next victim is bruce wayne. ❜

❛ wasn’t sure i’d see you again. ❜

❛ was it worth it? compromising yourself for money? ❜

❛ who are you under there? what are you hiding? are you just hideously scarred? ❜

❛ i told you, baby. i can take care of myself. ❜

❛ do you know who i am? ❜

❛ i could see the fear in your eyes, but i didn’t know how to help. ❜

❛ i could teach you how to fight, but i wasn’t equipped to take care of you. ❜

❛ you needed a father. and all you had was me. ❜

❛ i never thought i’d feel fear like that again. ❜

❛ come on, vengeance. let’s go kill that son of a bitch. ❜

❛ listen to me. don’t throw your life away. ❜

❛ don’t worry, honey. i got nine of ’em. ❜

❛ whatever i know, whatever i’ve done, it’s all going with me to my grave. ❜

❛ i just ordered a slice of pumpkin pie. ❜

❛ my life has been a cruel riddle i could not solve. ❜

❛ i know now what i must become. ❜

❛ if only you knew how long i’ve been waiting for this day. for this moment. ❜

❛ god. look at you. your mask is amazing. i wish you could’ve seen me in mine. ❜

❛ you and i both know i’m looking at the real you right now. ❜

❛ i told you, we’ve been doing this together. you’re a part of this. ❜

❛ we didn’t do anything together. ❜

❛ this is not how this was supposed to go! ❜

❛ oh, you’re really not as smart as i thought you were. ❜

❛ what’s black and blue and dead all over? you. ❜

❛ i can already see things will get worse before they get better. ❜

❛ people need hope. to know someone’s out there for them. ❜

❛ one day you’re on top, the next... you’re a clown. ❜

❛ gotham loves a comeback story. ❜

❛ riddle me this... the less of them you have, the more one is worth. ❜

❛ don’t you ever just say hello? ❜

❛ you know this place is never gonna change. ❜

❛ the bat and the cat. it’s got a nice ring. ❜

❛ take care of yourself. ❜

#the batman #sentence starters #writing prompts #roleplay prompts #rp prompts #rp memes #rp starters #roleplay starters #roleplay memes #dialogue prompts #inbox memes #ask memes #movies

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imtooscaredforthis · 3 years

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Fixation

Chap 9- Finale

Mentions of: Typical violence, stabbing, knives, blood, guns, etc.

Humming to yourself softly, you finished chopping the vegetables, pouring them into the boiling water. You swayed your hips along to the music that your radio played, smiling to yourself. It had been another successful day of work, and things were finally lightening up.

Thanks to your job, you had much more time to work on your assignments, meeting your deadlines with ease. You also got to work with Jed a lot more closely on Ghostface, and it had been amazing. He was amazing.

But despite your feelings of admiration, attraction, and infatuation towards him, you knew you couldn’t have anything with Jed. You were working together, after all, so your relationship had to be professional.

Suddenly, your phone rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Your landline was still unplugged, so it was your cellphone that was ringing. It was late at night, and you knew the only one who could be calling was….no. Was it him? Was it time?

You knew the best thing to do was to not pick up, so you didn’t. And once again, it rang repeatedly, to the point where you had to force yourself to ignore it.

But then, there was a knock at the door, making you rush over. When you opened it, there was no one there. And that was when you knew you had to answer the phone.

“Hey there Dollface, miss me?” A familiar voice greeted, and you felt your heart drop into your stomach as one question plagued your mind. Were you going to die tonight? “I was starting to think I was forgotten.”

Oh, how you wish you forgot him. You wish you had forgotten everything. “What do you want?”

“What do I want? I think you know what I want. To come in there and finish what we started.” He told you, and you swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling your body begin to tremble.

“Leave me alone. Or else I’ll call the cops, or worse, I’ll shoot you.” You threatened, keeping your voice from quivering.

“Mmm, you sure? That didn’t seem to work so well last time.” He said, not an ounce of fear in his voice.

You shut your mouth, not sure what to say next. What should you do? You knew if you begged for your life, you would be giving him exactly what you wanted. And if you fought him off, you’d probably die.

But you’d rather die fighting until your last breath than live humiliating yourself.

Finding some sort of confidence in all of your fear, you managed to force the words out of your throat. “Well, let’s finish this.”

“Atta girl. Since you’ve been so good, I think I’ll reward you with a ten-second head start. Better go get that gun, sweetheart. Ten, nine, eight-” As he began to count down, you rushed up the stairs, pulling your gun out from under your bed, dropping your phone in the process.

When you got back downstairs, you picked up the device, hesitantly answering it. But all you got was the dial tone. He had hung up. And that’s when you knew he was here.

You spun around in every direction, searching high and low, studying every single detail near you. He was nowhere to be seen. Except for-

Gloved hands came out from behind you, grabbing your shoulder and making you fire the gun right into the ceiling, almost shooting both you and Ghostface.

You faced him, managing to get his hands off of you. He moved to the gun instead, gripping the barrel and trying to tear it from your hands, while you held on tight.

It was terrifying seeing this killer face to face like this. He wasn’t much different than the pictures, the same mask, same robe, and outfit, but the energy he had was truly horrifying. Staring at his mask, you tied to make out any features behind the mesh black material. He was so much taller than you thought he was, practically towering over you. And god, he was a lot stronger than you expected.

“Like what you see?” He asked, breaking you from your daze. You gritted your teeth, trying to jerk the gun back roughly.

It was only then when you noticed the glint of his knife in his other hand, and he slashed at you, letting go of the weapon. You stumbled backward, losing your balance, your body slamming against the counter and hitting the radio.

The channel switched to a different station, the music now playing loudly. It was an older song you weren’t very familiar with.

“And now the end is near, And so I face that final curtain”

You groaned in pain, struggling to stay on your feet. He hummed along with the tune, playing with the knife and striding towards you. You grabbed the gun, raising it, but as you did so, he slashed at your arm, coaxing a scream from your throat.

You managed to move out of the way, the blade only cutting into your forearm slightly. Trying to defend yourself, you went to hit him, but he just grabbed your hair, turning you around so your back hit his front, moving your head up, putting his knife next to your throat.

Before he could even try and cut your neck, you slammed the butt of the shotgun into his stomach, stunning him and making him let you go. With a few seconds to spare, you tried getting ahead of him, but it didn’t work.

The music began to crescendo as it neared the chorus, blasting loudly and silencing your pleas and screams for help.

“I’ve planned each charted course, each careful step along the byway”

“And more, more much than this, I did it my way”

He sliced into your leg, making you yelp and fall to the floor like an injured dog. “Gotcha.” He mumbled, getting on top of you.

“Get off!” You shrieked, moving the shotgun sideways and hitting it against his chest, pushing him back. You kicked at him, aiming for hitting him where it hurts.

Unfortunately, you missed, and he sliced at your head. You rolled over quickly, making him hit the floor instead. Still determined to get away, you got to your feet, scrambling up the stairs and to your bedroom to get some ammo.

You had lost quite a bit of blood at this point, your arm and leg soaked in the crimson liquid, leaving a trail of droplets behind. But you didn’t care. Anything to get away from him, even a spare second could save your life.

It took you a moment to realize how close he was to you, his quiet footsteps nearing your door. Quickly, you forced yourself under the bed, pulling your gun along with you and trying to quiet your breaths.

The door creaked open quietly, his black boots pressing against the floor and coming into your view. “What is this? Some game of hide and seek?”

You could barely hear his voice over the loud music, despite it playing from downstairs. “Hmm, where is she? Maybe I should just give up and leave.”

“Not to say the things that he truly feels, And not the words of someone who kneels”

“Let the records show, I took all the blows, and did it-“

“Found you.” He grabbed the muzzle of your shotgun, pulling you out from under the bed, and slamming you into the wall, pinning you up against it, making you cry out.

“My way”

As the song ended, he tore your gun from your hands, leaving you a bloody, exhausted, mess. Was this it? The end of you? The end of everything? You worked so hard, and it was all for nothing. How pathetic. How pitiful.

Suddenly, he grabbed your face, and you prepared for the scorching pain of the blade slitting your throat open, but it never came. Instead, there was a bright flash. The flash of a camera.

“Smile, Dollface.” Your eyes shot open, and you stared right into the camera lens. “Good girl.”

He let go of your face, looking at the pictures. Then he lifted his head from the camera, so it was facing you. “What? Did you think I was going to kill you? No, not yet. The fun’s just getting started.”

“I think I’ll be keeping this, though.” He ran his fingers up and down your gun, tracing over your initials. Then, he turned to the window, undoing the lock and pushing it up.

He put one leg through, pausing momentarily to look back at you. “Go take care of those wounds, and don’t bleed to death, that’ll be boring for everyone. I’ll see you soon, (y/n).”

#dead by deadlight #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd #ghostface #ghostface x reader #jed olsen x reader #dbd jed olsen #jed olsen #danny johnson dbd #dbd danny #danny johnson x reader #dbd danny johnson #danny johnson

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mandoalorian · 4 years

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The Secret Of The Wish [Max Lord x F!Reader] SEX POLLEN

Summary: You’re a new intern for the Wall Street Journal, sent out to interview Maxwell Lord, a businessman who has suddenly found financial success in the oil drilling industry. When you ask him what does he owe his success to, he gives you a surprisingly honest answer: through the power of the wish. You make the mistake of humouring him, and playing along with his little story until he proves to you just how powerful wishing can be.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT (sex pollen in the form of wish granting therefore there is automatic dub-con) unprotected p in v, male oral, handjob, tit play, butt play, spanking, cockwarming, creampie, degradation, praise kink, office sex, power-shift, dom/sub dynamic, implied age difference, mutual pining.

Word count: 4400>

Masterlist

REBLOGS appreciated! 🤍

Black Gold Cooperative was booming with business. Even the outside of the building was swamped with hundreds of people who were desperate to get inside and speak to Mr Lord himself. Luckily, you were a journalist for the esteemed Wall Street Journal and your position in the company had earned yourself an interview with the successful CEO. The entire world had thousands upon thousands of questions for Maxwell Lord, and you were the lucky intern who got to meet with him on this humid Wednesday afternoon.

A tall blonde woman who you assumed was his secretary, led you to his office. All his employees seemed to be young, attractive and wore only the best designer clothes. It was almost intimidating. You couldn’t mess this up. You were conducting an interview with one of the most successful people alive - this could actually be your big break in the industry. Taking a deep breath, you made an attempt to swallow away your nerves before making your way into his own private office.

It was extensive in size, with large plants and statues in every corner and on every surface. Honestly, you found his taste in furnishings to be quite tacky. You knew it was just his way of bragging about how wealthy he was without actually saying anything. He was neck deep in paperwork and he hadn’t even noticed you were just standing there, in his office. Your eyes flicked across his messy desk, taking in the sight of multiple opened bottles of vitamins, colourful smoothies and other supplements. You made a mental note, not exactly pinning the salesman as a health freak. You’d been standing there for longer than you’d anticipated and he still hadn’t looked up, so you cleared your throat and prepared to grab his attention.

“Mr Lord… I’m here on behalf of Wall Street Journal, we’re doing a segment on Company Sudden Search....” you began to introduce yourself but a roll of his eyes and a flimsy yet disapproving gesture of his hand cut you off.

“Yeah yeah, I know,” he grumbled, taking a swing of his green juice before fastening the cap back on the bottle and pulling a face of disgust. If he thought it tasted so bad, why was he drinking it? Maxwell took a minute trying to compose himself for the interview. He’d waited his whole life to be interviewed by the Wall Street Journal and no matter how bad his migraine was… he couldn’t mess this up.

In fact… there was something about the way Maxwell Lord looked in this moment. His bottle blonde hair was sticking up in random places, probably due to the beads of sweat that laced his forehead. His tie was pulled open and his suit jacket was crinkled, yet he still made the effort to keep it on for whatever reason. He didn’t look like the persuasive, bright eyed salesman on the television, that’s for sure. You supposed all those studio lights could make anyone look different, but that didn’t necessarily mean he looked bad. He didn’t look sick as such, just a little disheveled. He kept rubbing his temples as if he had a killer headache. You considered asking him if he was okay, but that wasn’t why you were here.

The prolonged silence made Max Lord look up at you from the many papers on his desk. He was frowning, and if one thing was clear, it looked like he was having a bad day. It looked like he could do with some major stress relief. The first two buttons of his pinstripe shirt were open, and his collar was wonky, and honestly? You had to fight the urge to stalk over to him and help him out. You imagined running your fingers through his golden hair, caressing his face and letting your hands wander down his chest. You imagined whispering dirty little things into his ear until he ached for you. There was something about teasing a higher-up that you just couldn’t resist. Nevertheless, you cursed yourself for the inappropriate thoughts. You were a young intern for one of the most successful journalism companies… and shit, he was the CEO of what had suddenly become the richest organization in the world. He was a powerful man, more powerful than you knew. It would be foolish to mess around with a man like Maxwell Lord.

Maxwell took a shaky exhale and done what he could do best. Fake a smile. Feign confidence. Pretend like he was okay... like he had it together. He promised himself that he would not lose control of his power— he couldn’t— but this moment was only the start of his descent into madness. He never knew how hungry he could get... how satisfying his power could be, until he met you.

“Come here sweetheart,” his frown curled upwards into a smirk and his eyes began to gleam again, just like they did on his famous infomercials. His voice became a little louder, and a little more confident as he stood up and padded around his desk, pulling out a chair for you to sit down on. You hesitated, his change in attitude wasn't lost on you, but still, you obliged, and shuffled into the golden plush chair. The material was so soft and you struggled to suppress a moan. “Everything okay?” he asked you, placing a large ring clad hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah I just… I’ve never sat on anything so comfortable.” you confessed, shuffling around. Maxwell’s eyes lit up with desire at your comment and his gaze fixated on your face.

“Really?” Never?” he chuckled lightly, brushing his thumb against his lower lip as he took in your appearance. Just the shape of your perfect body was enough to initiate something primal in him. The tightness of your blouse and the vision of your short pencil skirt that cut off mid-thigh already had his cock straining against his tailored suit pants. “I can think of at least one more comfortable thing in this office for you to sit on.”

You’d be lying if you said you were unfazed by his little flirtation. If any other middle aged man had said something so crude to you, you’d have snapped back with something witty to put them in their place. But Maxwell Lord wasn’t any man and his charm alone had cast you under a spell. Your knees were weak and you felt like putty under his touch. Even when he removed his hand from your shoulder, you felt completely and utterly submissive to him.

You cleared your throat and opened up your notepad. “I’m just here to ask you a few questions…” you told the businessman, biting your lip nervously. Maxwell nodded and sat on the edge of his desk, waiting patiently for you to get started. “So uhm, Forbes is reveling in the fact you’re self made… but not much is known about your past. We don’t know about your family or where you come from… is there anything relevant you’d like to share with the world?” you asked curiously.

And for the first time, Maxwell Lord broke his gaze with you and looked down at the carpeted floor. “There’s not much to say, really.” he said, but there was something in his tone of voice that indicated he wasn’t willing to provide any further details. Hoping you hadn’t struck a sensitive cord with him, you glanced back down at your notepad to ask him another question.

“I hope you don’t think I’m prying, but not much is known about your personal life. A handsome, wealthy man like yourself can’t be single, right?” you asked, even startling yourself over how over bearing you’d begun to sound. Maxwell let out a chuckle and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow.

“I’m single, yes. Tell me darling, is this Wall Street Journal or US Weekly?” he joked, and you felt a flush of heat radiate your cheeks. You knew better.

“I’m sorry. It was an unprofessional question,” you quickly backtracked. “Do you uhm… do you have a pen… I could borrow?” You asked awkwardly, feeling a little irked over how flustered his simple presence had made you. You'd been so nervous to actually meet with Max Lord, you'd even forgotten to bring something to write with. You were so embarassed. But Maxwell was hardly paying attention to your lack of organization, and instead he just smiled and grabbed a gold encrusted company pen from his desk. “Thank you.” you said timidly. “Can I ask you something?”

“That’s why you’re here… isn’t it?” he retorted playfully.

“The interview is about Company Sudden Search and for some reason there are no questions about your company… just you,” you frowned apologetically. You hadn't come up with the questions, one of your executives had. You were just there to look pretty and milk as much information out of him as you could. “I guess the world is curious about you, Mr Lord. More curious about your private life than this empire that you have created. But Black Gold Cooperative had been off the grid for many years only prior to this week and now suddenly you’re the wealthiest company in the world. You’re the richest man in the US. And data shows absolute no correlation towards that. Your purchased oil wells were dry until one day they just weren’t. It wasn’t gradual, but Mr Lord, we are living during the Cold War and oil is as scarce enough as it is. How… how did this happen? You must know something.”

As you rambled on, Maxwell stared dead into you. You hadn’t been asked to say this, this was coming from your own interest. You had done your own digging about this (just like any successful journalist would), snooping into Maxwell’s business and finding out exactly which oil fields he owned and how much oil was in them in the first place. This wasn’t coming from the Wall Street Journal. This was coming from you. Maxwell never expected to be confronted with such a question. You were practically trapping him, but the way you could swindle the truth out of him was an attractive quality of yours. Not many people could get the truth out of Max Lord.

Maxwell chuckled lightly. He could tell you. It wouldn't make much of a difference. Besides, you’d be foolish to believe the truth. You’d think he’d gone insane. Had he gone insane? These damn migraines… he was drunk on power… his mind had become corrupt with the idea of fortune and success. And he needed this interview to go well.

Maxwell grinned, as charming as ever, and took both of your hands. “I made a wish.” he told you, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

You paused, unsure what to make of his comment. Was he making a joke? It didn’t sound like he was joking. In fact he sounded more serious than ever. “Like… upon a star?” you asked, giggling only slightly in attempt to make a judgement of whether or not he was just messing with you. Maxwell smirked and nodded his head. He’d expected that you wouldn’t believe him.

“On my journey to self fulfilment I locked into a secret, the secret of the wish. So I wished for it. Or, someone wished for it for me…” Maxwell explained, talking in tongue twisters. His fingers brushed over your knuckles. As you listened to him, he noticed the way your eyebrows knotted together in bewilderment. He was definitely serious about the wishing thing. But if he wasn’t going to be honest with you, then maybe this interview was more trouble than it was worth. Just as you were about to break away your contact with his hands, he continued. “Tell me what you wish for you and I will show you how it works.”

That was quite the proposal coming from him.

You blinked. “Uhm…” He stared at you, waiting for you to come up with some kind of answer. You supposed that you could always just humour him. “So you’re like a genie?”

“I’m Max Lord, sweetheart, and I can make your darkest fantasies come true as long as you just say the word.” he said, his voice dropping an octave.

The sexual tension between you both was undeniable, and it had been since you had entered his office. His already chocolate brown eyes had darkened considerably with lust. You pursed your lips together into a fine line and you tried your very best to ignore the fact that your lace panties were damp with arousal. You knew he was powerful. Strong… sexy. You’d been in his office for barely five minutes and he already had a hold on you.

“I suppose I’d want success in my career. It’s hard… being taken seriously, as a woman in journalism. It would be nice to just feel respected amongst my peers.” you confessed.

“The people at Wall Street don’t respect you?” Maxwell asked, and you swore that for a split second he sounded genuinely concerned.

“Uhm… I feel like I’m not really at liberty to discuss that. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have mentioned it in the first place.” you scrunched up your nose.

“Because you deserve respect, miss Y/L/N.” Maxwell promised you, his hand sinking down to caress your thigh. You gasped under his touch and looked up at the ceiling. “Is this alright… me touching you like this?” he cooed, tracing circles over your pantyhose.

“Mm.” you mumbled in agreement, your eyes fluttering shut as his fingers dipped under the hem of your skirt.

“So if you could wish for one thing… one thing at this very moment in time, it would be for success in your career? Is that true?” Maxwell quizzed, eyeing you up with curiosity.

No.

It wasn’t true.

In fact your career— this interview— was the last thing on your mind.

Fuck.

Silently, you shook your head. “So darling, tell me, what would you wish for?”

You sighed in defeat, remembering that you’d just humour him. It wasn’t exactly professional but he wasn’t helping you out either. Just go along with it, you told yourself. You finally looked back down at him and saw that his lips were moist from where he’d hungrily licked at them, his eyes fixated on your breasts and the way he could just about see the lace print underneath the thin material.

“I’d wish for you…” you shakily exhaled. And that caught his attention. His gaze flicked up to meet yours and he waited for you to continue. “I’d wish for you to let me use you to get what I want. You’re rich… powerful… wealthy…” A gust of air distracted you and a breeze blew through your hair. The windows weren’t open, the fan wasn’t on, and Maxwell looked completely and utterly spent over your revelation. It had just came out of nowhere. There was a few beats of silence and Max looked you up and down.

“What do you want?” he croaked meekly. He removed his hand from your thigh and his whole demeanor changed in a split second.

When you noticed how stiff his manhood was, and the way his precum had already leaked out onto the grey material of his pants, it stirred something up inside of you. He wanted this too, that much was clear.

And now, the roles had reversed. You were no longer the shy intern interviewing the big name CEO, you were a sexy journalist who’s nipples had hardened significantly and you had this fresh yet welcoming air of power to you. There were two people in this office and yet suddenly, you were the one in control.

Maxwell’s perfect, plush lips had parted and his dark eyes followed you as you stood up from your seat. He looked down at the wet patch from where you were sitting and gulped, imagining just how great it would feel to slide his fingers through your folds and feel your arousal himself.

All for him.

“I think you know.” you replied softly, sitting him down in the golden chair that you had once made yourself comfortable in. You pulled off his crumpled suit jacket and discarded his tie, throwing it haphazardly onto his already messy desk, and then sunk down to your knees, spreading his legs apart.

You began to palm at his erection through his pants, involuntarily licking your lips as your fingers danced around his growing bulge. “Ngh- fucking tease.” he groaned, his eyes snapping shut the second he felt you begin to work at removing his belt. You pulled down his zipper and reached into his pants, pulling his cock free. He wasn’t enormous, but definitely above average, and thicker than you’d ever taken before.

“You just need someone to make you feel nice, don’t you?” you cooed gently before licking a stripe up the base of his cock. “All this stress from work… huh? From making people’s wishes come true.”

“You… you have no idea.” Maxwell grunted, his cock twitching in your hands as you pressed a sweet little kiss to his head. His slit was still leaking with precum and you were desperate to get a taste of the CEO. You gave him a small kitten lick, relishing the saltiness of his seed. He was delicious.

This shouldn’t have been happening. Sure, Maxwell was hard before you’d even made the wish, but holy crap, he didn’t expect for this to actually happen. And neither did you. You assumed he was lying, just like he lied about everything else in his life. Afterall, who was going to believe a man who told you his success was owed to wish granting?

“Mr Lord… you’re so big.” you sighed longingly before making an attempt to attach your lips around his cock. He looked down at you and let his hands grip the back of your head as you sucked on his sensitive tip.

Who would've guessed that a good blowjob was exactly what Max Lord needed to feel better about himself?

Max felt like he was in heaven. He was already seeing stars. He’d been granting peoples wishes left, right and centre. He wasn’t necessarily touch starved but it had been a good few weeks since he’d gone without sex; his only motivation being to find and harness the power of the dreamstone. But you were giving him the best head he’d ever had in his life. It was like everything was pent up inside of him. His balls were tight and he was achingly hard and in a moment of pure lust, he thrusted his hips deep into your mouth. The sudden movement had you gagging and a trail of saliva mixed with his precum dripped down your lips. You pulled off him, gasping for air but quickly wrapped your lips back around him and taking his length even further than before. If he filled your mouth this good, you wondered how he’d feel filling your pussy.

“Not gonna last… fuck!” Maxwell cried, his cum shamelessly spurting into your mouth. His load was massive and he doubled out of you, the remnants of his seed spilling against your lips and down your chin. His heart was beating rapidly against his chest as he took in the appearance of you, down on your knees, in between his legs, with his milky white cum all over your pretty face.

Despite his orgasm, Maxwell was still hard. He still craved more. More of a release from you. It must’ve been your wish that created this desperation that dwelled inside of him.

“More,” he pleaded, his eyes round and doe-like. “Please, I need more.”

“Say less.” you whispered, unbuttoning your blouse and pulling down your skirt and pantyhose so you were simply just standing there in your white lingerie set. You looked so pure and innocent, and yet you were in absolute full control of this situation. You were the one dominating him.

“You said you wish to use me, so use me.” Maxwell begged as he extended his arms and made grabby fists, desperate for you to come over and help him out.

He was right. This was your wish. You could play along with this for as long as you wanted. You removed your panties, unclipped your bra and discarded the garments, letting your breasts fall free. Maxwell’s jaw dropped at the sight of you and you stalked over to him. You straddled him and sat on his lap.

With one hand, you wrapped your fingers around his cock again and began to slowly jerk it, beginning a handjob which was more than pleasant for him. With your free hand, you grabbed onto his shoulder and steadied yourself, before stretching your body and pressing one of your breasts into his mouth. His lips latched around your tit immediately and he began to suck on your nipple as you continued to rub his cock. You moaned with pleasure, tossing your head back as his tongue worked at the hard little bud.

You subconsciously found yourself riding his thigh, dragging your dripping wet cunt along his expensive pants and making an absolute mess of them. He experimentally flexed the muscles in his thigh a few times, trying to gauge a reaction out of you and see how you liked it. His teeth grazed your breast and he let himself get a little too excited, peppering love bites all over your chest.

“Yes, that’s it,” Maxwell groaned. “Take what you need sweet girl.” he praised.

You whimpered when he flexed his thigh again and you felt yourself begin to reach your climax. You clenched around nothing and his cock was throbbing in your hand. You knew he needed more too.

You let go of him and he pulled his mouth off your tit with a ‘pop’. You cupped his face with both your hands and adjusted yourself slightly, this time so the tip of his cock was pressed against your entrance. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for his stretch before sinking down onto his length, settling balls deep. “Fuck… Fuck fuck fuck,” you chanted, your eyes squeezing tight shut as he filled you.

“Move.” he gasped, biting down on your shoulder. You whimpered and tugged on his golden hair, sending him into an absolute frenzy.

“Fuck, Mr Lord… oh god please, you’re so fucking big.” you cried, tears of pleasure pricking your eyes. He wanted you to move, sure, but this was your wish, and you were more than happy to just sit on and warm his cock for a few minutes.

Your walls were tight and perfect around him, just like he’d imagined. You brought your finger down to your cunt and began to rub at your clit as his cock stretched you out. Your moans of gratification echoed throughout the extensively sized office and you felt your juices drip down his cock.

“So good,” he whispered. “Move, please.”

“Mmm,” you couldn’t even fumble out words, and your vision was nothing less than a haze.

He rubbed the pad of his finger against your puckered asshole before sliding it in. Your body tensed up at the intrusion but God did it feel good. “Fucking move.” he growled, biting down on your earlobe as he began to thrust his index finger in and out of you.

Maxwell brought a hand down to cup your ass and he gave you a rough spanking. “Move.” He repeated, this time his tone a lot more demanding and less polite than the first time.

And just like that— he was in control again.

You obliged, not wanting to irk him any more, and began to bounce on his cock. “Greedy bitch,” he grunted, spanking you again. “Fuck… thinking you can use my dick for your own pleasure, huh? Everything comes with a price.” he hissed as you rolled your hips over his manhood.

“Oh Mr Lord.” you sighed with every movement, as his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside of you.

“You just couldn’t resist it, could you?” Maxwell asked rhetorically, a villainous smirk crossing his lips. “One great wish and you wish to ride my fucking cock," He had a point. People had come to him wishing for Porsche's, political power,— and you, with your whole chest, had wished to be the one who could pleasure him. Help him let go. “Shit baby, you take me so well.”

Despite his growls of degradation you knew he wasn’t going to last long, if the way his cock throbbed inside of you was anything to go by. You didn’t mind though. He could disrespect you all he wanted. You were more than happy to be Maxwell Lord’s little cumslut. His little whore.

“G-gonna cum, oh fuck, please.” you screamed, pressing your fingernails into his back as you rode out your high.

“Yes,” he moaned wantonly. “Soak my cock.” And with those three words, you came undone, sat on top of the richest and most successful CEO in the world. “Are you safe?” he asked, his hips bucking up into your sensitive core.

“I am.” you confirmed, and without even asking for permission, he spilt his seed inside of you, ruthlessly painting your walls with his cum.

He kept his cock inside of you until it softened and slipped out, and you mumbled something incoherent at the loss of his fullness. Maxwell watched your chest as you heaved, making every attempt you could to catch your breath. He pressed a sweet kiss into your collar bone, and then up your neck and along your jaw. You relished the feeling of his lips against skin; post coital bliss fostering your every thought.

“You’re a good girl,” he whispered, rubbing the curve of his nose against your neck. “I grant you your wish, and in return, I give you the utmost success in your career.” he sighed, and for the very first time Maxwell Lord said something completely and utterly selfless. It was through no gain to him whatsoever. You didn’t deserve to be looked down upon by your peers and employers, he knew that much. And if he had the chance to change that, he sure as hell would.

“You will achieve things no journalist has achieved before, you will be rich, and be the first to seize every opportunity.” he said in between kisses.

To you, he was just whispering sweet nothings into your ear, humouring your larger-than-life dreams and ambitions. But if there was one thing that Maxwell Lord admired in a woman, it was her aspiration and goals. If you were brave enough to waltz into his office as let him cum all over you, you definitely deserve this. At that moment, you had no idea that Maxwell Lord would change your life forever...

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#Pedro Pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal x reader #Pedro Pascal smut #maxwell lord smut #maxwell lord #max lord #max lord x reader #maxwell lord x reader #ww84

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dear-yandere · 4 years

Text

[ kinktober day 2 — dying light. ]

yandere! ghostface (jed olsen) x f! reader. oneshot.

summary. they’ll get away. they’ll get away and leave you behind with him—but you want that, don’t you?

— word count: 2108. — prompts: predator/prey + choking + knife play. — warnings: n/sfw (dubcon, slut-shaming). — art credit: 765122.

kinktober masterlist.

“Ah ah ah, keep it down, sweetheart.”

It’s gruffer than you expected, his voice. Mischievous and malicious, airy and curious, the type of tone you’d take with a friend—lighthearted. As if he wasn’t holding you by knife point. His words almost have a musical ring to it, the hum of a killer seeking prey whose hiding spot he’s long been aware of.

He’s playing with you.

“Should I stuff your mouth instead? Wouldn’t want your little friends hearing you moan my name, would you?” His hand is still around your neck, squeezing it tightly between dried blood and old leather, and his other lazily waves a bloodied tactical knife through the air. “Or, would you like that? Your call, toots.” You can feel desire roll from his body, from his blade smeared with the stale blood of unlucky victims. The glint of steel begs to be coated by your blood, but he won’t have that. Not yet. Not until he’s had his fun.

“Cat got your tongue?” He tips your chin using knife’s edge, and you hurry to answer if you know what’s best for you.

“No…” You barely manage to breathe out. Your throat burns with the reminder that your life is literally in his hands, and if his mask had been off, you’re sure he’d be grinning.

“Mm, what’s that babe? Gotta speak up or I can’t hear ya.” He licks his lips and squeezes, a dull chuckle hollowed by his mask. “You said you want me to bring them here?”

“N-no! Please, no.” You sputter, the burning in your throat growing with each second. His grip is loose enough to keep you from passing out, but inklings of black begin to spot your vision. “Don’t… let them see me like this.” Your answer comes quick, quicker than you’ve been answering for the past few minutes. He knows what you were playing at—trying to buy time for your teammates. He should’ve left minutes ago to patrol the leftover gens, but you had the misfortune of piquing his interest after a long chase.

He tilts his head. He’s struck a nerve, it seems, and your tongue scrambles to make you appear less weak. “I—if they saw me with you, they’d never forgive me, they’ll—”

“They’ll think you’re a traitor.” He finishes, lips curling into an impish smirk. What little strength was left in your sore thighs slackened, the ugly feeling of desperation coiling against your tummy. The killer continues, his tone indifferent, nonchalant, as if the prospect of catching one of your trusted friends fucking the enemy is commonplace. “One of them could walk by right now, looking for me, looking for you, wondering why I’m not out and about, wondering why you haven’t been healed yet.” He laughs through his nose. Oh, could you be any more precious? The way fear flits across your face like a dance, the way your lips tremble and refuse to stay still—you’re so easy to read. “What d’ya think they’ll say when they see you like this, sweets?”

“No!” You choke and whine into his hands at the sheer thought. To lose your dignity and your fellow survivor’s trust like that… you’ll never survive another match.

He disregards your pained moans and hums inquisitively, grinding against the swell of your thigh with his hardened cock, shamelessly hidden beneath his robes while you lay exposed against the shack wall. You’re still uselessly trying to claw his hand from your neck, choking and sputtering for air as he tightens his grip, but your attempts hardly make a dent in the thick leather gloves. Precious, pretty little thing you are. He wonders how you’ll look with your mouth stuffed full with his cock and his knife lodged tight in your stomach.

You make it so hard to control himself.

He grins when your fingers abandon the hand around your neck and crawl along his arm, eager to push him off and buy enough time to find a teammate. You wouldn’t get far anyway, consider he’s been stalking you for quite some time. Every weakness and fear is completely exposed before him—did you think he wouldn’t notice that limp in your step from last chase? Poor thing, must’ve twisted your ankle when he chased after your tight ass moments ago. As if teasing you for being so needy—even if it isn’t yet for his cock—the edge of his boots smash into your weakened ankle.

You didn’t put up a fight—couldn’t put up a fight. Your crumpled body would’ve fallen to the splintered floorboards if he hadn’t caught you in time. He squeezes your thin neck harder— rougher—and you swear your esophagus will explode. Screams are robbed from the pleasure of leaving your mouth, all you can feel is dry burning, all you can do is wheeze and cry just how he likes it.

The dull edge of his knife violates your mouth, not quite filling you entirely, but you refuse to flinch.

“I’ve been watching you for a while, y’know, bating my time, fantasizing about all the dirty things I’d do when you’re helpless beneath me.” He holds you the way fire holds what it burns. “I want this to be extra special; the kind of nightmare you’ll never forget. I even made sure one’s gonna interrupt us, sweetheart.” He explains, dragging the blade across your bottom lip. “So, do you still think they’ll try to save you?”

He’s mocking you.

“O-of course!” You draw ragged breaths, the bitter taste of iron stained on your tongue like a tattoo. “One of them has a flashlight”—you realized it’s best to not divulge who in particular—“S-someone will come for me sooner or later!”

He cups your flushed cheek with his free hand, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers. The action brings the insides of your mouth dangerously close to his knife, but he’s careful. Bleed any more and you’ll pass out, and fucking an unconscious body isn’t nearly as fun. “I didn’t take you for such an idiot, sugar.”

Your eyebrows furrow at the finality in his voice.

“How cute.” He snickers and cocks his head to the side. “You think a flashlight save will be enough? All I gotta do is look down, babe.” Oh, isn’t that whimper precious? Makes him want to rip you apart. “‘Sides, I have No One Escapes Death.” He continues, running the blade along your teeth. “Saving you may as well be a death wish.”

A sob weakly leaves your throat. Beneath his mask, his eyes narrow, having grown impatient with your lack of reaction. Shoving the sharp edge of his knife down your throat may as well incite no reaction, at this point.

“You’re hardly putting up a fight now, sweet thing. Give up already?” He loosens his grip on your neck, urging you to speak. “Or am I just that sexy?” He snickers, pulls the knife from your lips and cants your head with the tip. “Go on, lemme hear you say it. Scream my name, sweets, let them hear you all the way at the exit gates.”

Your breaths hitch—just the reaction he was looking for. His lips twist into a wicked smile. “Give them one last thing to think about before they leave you here.”

“No…” Your complaint is hoarse, hardly above a whisper. They couldn’t have left you, not here, not with him. You told them how scared you are—how frightened he makes you. You told them about the eyes watching you, even when the Entity hasn’t called upon you for a trial. You told them about the photographs littering your room—the ones of you, ones you didn’t take. You told them. They couldn’t have left, they wouldn’t.

“You’re lying…”

“Aw babe, you’re too pretty to be this delusional. Your little friends left a long time ago.” He muses, prodding your thighs apart with the swell of his knee. “It’s just you and me now, sweetheart. The Entity can’t force us out unless you somehow get out of arms, or a few minutes pass and the Entity claims you for itself.” He taps the underside of your chin. “Tell me, how does spending your last few minutes alive with me sound?”

You try to hide the tears swelling over your eyelids, but your bones are weary and your limbs heavy. “Please just let me go…”

Poor thing. He has to strain just to hear you—that’s no good.

No good for his patience, either.

“Say my name and I’ll think about it, then.” The blade travels lower, slices just below your jugular—shallow enough to draw a thin line of blood, nothing in dire need of medical attention. Not like you could reach your discarded med kit, anyway. “I can’t hear you princess. Go on, I said. Say. My. Name.” Each word is punctuated by a sharp thrust just above your collar bone. His mouth closes in next to their ear, “Tell me who you belong to.”

Your will snaps.

“Danny!”

The name feels foreign, forbidden, on your tongue.

“Mm, haha…” He’s caught off guard. He wasn’t expecting that, no. A ‘Ghostface’ or even ‘Ghostie’ would’ve made his cock happy, but this… this is unexpected. This is new.

He’s pitying you now, you can still hear the mock in his tone when he speaks. “What a shameless little whore. When’d you learn my name? Who told you?” His voice is playful, and something tells you he doesn’t mind why you know, but rather why you blew your cover. “You’ve been stalking me, haven’t you?”

Your eyes widen. Another nerve’s been struck.

He’s losing breath fast beneath his mask. His heart’s beating so fast—this rush, this thrill is exhilarating. You’re exhilarating, you’re as insane as him.

“Do your pals know how wet I make you? Do you jack off when no one’s looking?” You can’t hide it anymore, the shame and guilt and frustration on your face. He can practically feel the heat— the sexual frustration—rolling from your skin in waves. His cock twitches against his robes, his breaths quick and rugged against your face. “Huh? Do you jack off to me, sweets? Is that why you haven’t fought back this entire time?”

You don’t have an answer anymore.

“Keep making that face, sweets.” He leans closer and drops his voice. “I like it when you’re flustered.”

Your thighs clench, desperate for friction against your cunt—his voice, his voice is what did this. And now he’s using it again you; god you’re such a fucking idiot.

His hand leaves your neck, travels up to your parted lips. He’s hardly surprised when your jaw immediately slackens to accommodate his fingers, dirty leather immediately tainting your tongue. You don’t flinch at the taste; even dirt is above the depths you’ve fallen to.

“Wonder if you taste as sweet as you look.” He mindlessly asks, sliding his fingers over the dull buds of your tongue. “Wonder if your cunt’s as dirty as your mind. Do you go around fucking the other survivors too? The other killers?”

Your draw a sharp breath and change the topic. “I-I’ll do anything, just don’t…don’t tell anyone.” Your suggestions are hardly convincing. In this realm, what else do you have to your name besides your tight little body?

“Mm…anything?” He’s been patient enough with you. “Then beg, princess.”

You hesitate. Begging’s a small price to pay for your freedom; you’ve already fallen so low, what’s a little more?

Your lips don’t move like you want them to.

“Go on, tell me I’m the worst.” He sighs blissfully and pulls his hand from your lips. The shifting of fabric meets your ears; you don’t have to look down to know he’s started palming his erection. Your eyes stay pinned to the holes in his mask, desperately hanging onto what dignity you have left. “Tell me you hate me.” He moans, pressing his knee against your cunt. “I get off on it, princess.”

You’re wet. You wish the shame were enough to kill you right then.

“Just stop thinking, let me fuck you silly just like you wanted.” The knife hardly misses your stomach when he slices downwards, tearing the front of your shirt and leggings. The thin fabrics uselessly falls to the floor—and he takes every opportunity to eye you up and down. The feeling of his eyes on your skin is disgusting, but calling for help is useless by this point. No one will hear, no one will come. Not for someone like you.

“Don’t complain if I leave your pussy bleeding, sweets.” He strokes your dirtied, tear-stained cheeks. You don’t pull away, anymore. “You begged for this.”

You’re a sinner and you’re already in hell.

#yandere ghostface x reader #ghostface x reader #dbd x reader #yandere dbd x reader #yandere dead by daylight #yandere dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight imagines #yandere dbd #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere #yandere scenario #yandere imagines #tw dubcon #kinktober20 #*oneshot #tw not sfw

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niksixx · 4 years

Text

America’s Most Wanted

Requested: Kind of :D

Pairing: Duff McKagan x Fem!Reader

Description: While you and Duff are lovers, you’re also killers. A modern day Bonnie and Clyde love story.

Warning: Mentions of murder, blood, stabbing, guns, etc. I tried not to make this fic graphic, but please read at your own risk if you believe this piece will trigger you.

A/N: I am blessing you all with a Duff fic because I know how much you lovely humans wanted me to write something for him!! It’s a different type of fic, I consider this ‘horror’ but again, I tried not to make it super graphic that way you can still enjoy it!

*Picture is NOT mine. Found on Google. Credit to the owner.*

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The streets of Los Angeles are uncharacteristically quiet at four thirty in the morning. Normally buzzing with crowds of inebriated young adults who spill out to the sidewalk after a night at the Roxy, they have become calm and eerily so. Illumination from the lamp posts provides the only source of light throughout the city in the late hours of the night. Stores and clubs remain closed for the second week in a row. Workers and customers alike are suffering, but the safety of the LA citizens is at stake.

The police and the FBI are frazzled. Patrolling the streets is too dangerous. One by one the death toll increases, with each murder more gruesome than the next, always unprovoked. Media outlets across the country keep the American citizens informed. The mugshots of the murderers are on every news channel, and posters are hung on every telephone pole. The two killers are wanted dead or alive, and they are Bonnie and Clyde resurrected.

Sitting at the base of a tree is one of the killers, the more experienced of the two. He goes by Duff. Long leather clad legs are splayed out in front of him as he cleans the fresh blood from his knife with a towel that has seen better days. Beside him hidden in the grass is the lifeless body of a twenty-nine year old man who had made the mistake of stepping outside his home. The scent of blood is strong, but Duff’s used to it. After brutally ending the lives of thirty innocent civilians up and down the west coast, the pungent odor is rarely a bother. In fact, Duff finds it comforting.

At first glance, Duff appears just like any other man in Los Angeles. That alone makes him deadly. Tall, blonde, and adorned in leather assets from head to toe, he’s intimidating. But it’s not the kind of intimidating that urges people away. He possesses an allure that pulls them toward him, draws them in. And then, when they least expect it, he strikes. One and done. Swift and clean. No remorse.

With his back against the base of the tree, Duff scans the empty streets, looking for any sign of life that is foolish enough to leave the safety of the indoors. He knows the police are doing everything they can to locate him without putting themselves at risk. He is aware that cities all across the country are terrified that they’ll fall victim to his murder spree. And yet there are still people who choose to enter the outdoor world, exposing themselves to potential harm. There is always the option of breaking the glass windows and terrorizing the people who choose to stay inside, but that isn’t the name of the game. Duff waits for his victims. He never goes looking for them.

Heels clicking against the cement pavement grabs his attention. Turning his head toward the sound, a petite woman in a red peacoat has a bit of hustle in her step as she pulls the jacket tighter to her body. The naive little thing is alone, checking over her shoulder once, twice, before exhaling a breath into the air.

From his pocket, Duff digs out a cigarette. Holding it between two gloved fingers, he lights it and casually blows a ring of smoke into the night. “You know darling, you shouldn’t be out here all by yourself.”

The clicking comes to a halt. Caught in the midst of her venture home, the lady stops and turns, worry lines etched in her forehead. Duff sighs. Poor thing doesn’t know what’s coming for her. “I know. I’m coming from a friend’s house. My apartment is just down the street.”

Duff heaves himself to his feet, brushing off the dirt and grass from his body. Shockingly, the lady doesn’t budge, but her eyes watch his every move. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he lets the cigarette dangle from his lips. A few steps forward and he’s standing in front of the young woman who squares her body defensively. She doesn’t recognize him, another shock, as his face has been plastered all over the 11 o’clock news, but her guard is high.

“At four in the morning?” Duff asks incredulously, playing the part of an intrigued stranger. He uses his charm for an advantage. The woman smiles a little, relaxing her shoulders. Duff notices. “What were you doing?”

He doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t have to pretend to care, to warm up his victims before the hunt. But killing is a game, and games are meant to be fun. “I was planning on staying over, but I have trouble falling asleep in homes that aren’t my own,” Her eyes travel the length of Duff’s body before settling back on his face. She has trouble reading him. “What’s your excuse for being out so late?”

A few feet away, a shadow emerges from behind the cars parked along the street. Straining his neck to get a closer look, Duff recognizes the shadow and snickers to himself. Curiously, the lady turns her gaze just as the shadow disappears behind a different car. “I have trouble sleeping. Past trauma,” Duff lies casually, eyes downcast at the cigarette in his mouth. “Fresh air and a smoke usually calms me down.”

“I’m sorry to hear that…”

“Duff,” He answers back with a slow smile. “And you are?”

“Linda.” A wary smile surfaces on her lips. The rise and fall of her chest is normal, not as panicked as it was before.

The shadow in the background slithers around the cars, inching its way closer. It’s on the hunt for its next prey, but Duff shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. He looks to Linda again, who stares back quizzically. “Well, Linda, it was very nice to meet you. It’s late, though, and you should head on home.”

With a curt nod, Linda tugs her purse higher onto her shoulder. “It was nice to meet you too, Duff.” Linda attempts to step around him, but Duff sidesteps and blocks her path. Linda straightens, the muscles in her face tightening.

“One more thing,” In the shallow pocket of his leather jacket, Duff runs a thumb over the tip of his blade, leaning toward her with a smirk. Linda recoils, and he deadpans. “Don’t scream.”

For a split second, Linda’s fight or flight response is activated, only to be cut off by the sharp pain of a blade wedged in the side of her ribcage. A gloved hand covers her mouth, suppressing the soft whimpers of agony. Cocking his head, Duff stares into her eyes as tears spill over the apples of her cheeks. With a quick, slick motion, Duff pulls the knife from her side before penetrating the skin just above her collarbone. Lightning quick, the shadow emerges from the darkness and hurls itself at Duff, knocking him against the brick wall of a building just a foot behind him. If only the shadow had been quicker, not as hesitant, then it may have claimed Linda as its victim.

Now under the light of a lamppost, the shadow appears in its true form. The second killer. Dressed head to toe in black garments, the boxcutter held tight in its grasp, it takes one step forward, lips curled back in contempt.

“Fuck you, Duff. I had that.”

The anger in your voice turns him on, the opposite effect that it should have on his body. You were right. Linda was your kill, but she’d been alive for far too long. Things didn’t always have to be planned. Excessive planning, while it worked in most cases, could end up being a weakness. Sometimes, you just needed to go for the quick kill.

“I am so sorry, sweetheart,” Feigning innocence, Duff gestures to Linda’s lifeless body as he blows a cloud of smoke into the air. While he’s positive Linda is as good as gone, there was always the chance she was grasping at life by the skin of her teeth. And if she was indeed just another lifeless body bleeding out on the concrete, Duff would enjoy the sight of you exploding in anger right in front of him. You were always more beautiful that way. “But her apartment was down the street. You were just a bit too slow, darling. She would have made it home alive.” Your eyes fall downcast. Duff sighs. “Tell you what. Check her pulse. If she’s still breathing, I’ll let you finish her off.”

Crouching down to the pavement, you slip your hand into the collar of Linda’s peacoat, two fingers positioned on the side of her neck. Blood trickles onto your hand, the pungent liquid dripping down the side of her neck to her ear. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on finding a slow beating, but the only pulse you feel is the one flowing through your fingertips.

Eyes narrowed to slits, you watch as Duff chuckles from his place at the wall, taking drag after drag of the cigarette. He knew she was dead. He was toying with you. Teeth clenched together, you find yourself pressing his back further into the bricks, snatching the white cancer stick from his lips, and crushing it under the heel of your boot. You hold the blade against his neck, applying just a bit of pressure to make him slightly squirm under your touch. Neither you nor Duff are strangers to rough play.

He blinks in pure astonishment before curling his lips into a sly grin. Your fingers twitch, itching to wipe the smile off his face, but he’s caught your wrist far too many times in the past when you’ve tried. “Someone’s a little angry, aren’t we?”

Linda’s blood smears over Duff’s lips as your fingers graze over his face. With your lips by his ear, you reply breathily, “Don’t ask questions you know the answer to.”

Pulling away, you let your hands drop by your side, curling and uncurling your fists as a way to release the tension in your body. It was your kill. How were you supposed to get better if Duff claimed the victims for himself?

“Maybe you need more training.”

Your blood boils, eyes shifting back to Duff’s smug face. If you needed more training, it was his fault. “Maybe I need a better teacher.” It was easy to get under each other’s skin, although most of the time it was playful banter that morphed into sexual tension. From the bulge in his jeans and the hazy look in his eyes, you knew Duff was dangerously close to claiming you on the sidewalk.

“Temper, temper,” Duff taunts, pushing off the wall with the sole of his boot. The way he eyes you is how he gazes at his victims, like prey, but there’s a side of Duff only you’ve seen. Despite his primal instincts and the nagging urge to have his way with you whenever and wherever, you meant more to him than that. “You have a sharp tongue, sweetheart,” You tilt your head confidently upward, not breaking eye contact as he towers over you. Trailing a gloved hand over your exposed collarbone and up the side of your throat, his fingers slide around to grip the nape of your neck. With untamed hair, crazed eyes, and lips smeared with the blood of the fallen, he’s a madman, a killer. And while the feelings between you aren’t rational, you can’t deny your love for the wild criminal. “Show me what else it can do.”

His lips draw you in like a magnet. Many kisses have been shared between you and Duff, but your heart still beats wildly like it did the very first time. With his hands on either side of your face he keeps you still against him, lips moving in a frenzy before biting down on your lip. He’s rarely gentle, and it drives you mad.

The taste of blood floods your tongue as his tangles with yours, hot, heavy breaths fanning over your face. Your body tingles with fervent need, stomach twisting in passionate knots. As much as you want to enjoy the kiss, the taste of him, you pull back reluctantly, the thoughts in your head overwhelming the rest of your senses.

Duff’s hands cradle your face with a gentle touch. He eyes you with a hard look, a look that warns not to lie. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

The words spin around in your brain. Did you really need more training? In only six short months, Duff taught you everything he knew. You followed his lessons, mimicked his every movement, practiced until your muscles ached from the pain. “Am I disappointing you?”

Duff’s eyebrows furrow. His hands fall to your waist, tugging your hips firmly against him. “Disappointing me? Hardly. Sweetheart, you amaze me.”

“But you said I need more training.”

He chuckles softly. “And you do. That’s not a bad thing. But you’ve already come so far. Just a few months ago you were a dainty little thing who loved watching romance movies and baking cookies on Friday nights. Now you can shoot a gun with your eyes closed.”

“And you were just getting out of prison,” Snaking your arms around the back of Duff’s neck, you pull him closer to you, noses brushing tenderly. If it weren’t for Duff’s inmate taking the blame for the murder, he still would have been staring at the prison walls. How they were able to fool the system into letting Duff go was unfathomable, but he was here with you now. They had let a man guilty of first degree murder walk free, and that man turned into one obsessed with death. Along the way he found you, recruited you as his companion, and now couldn’t picture a world where you weren’t by his side. “I was smitten with you from the moment we met. And I knew you were trouble. I just didn’t care.”

“And look at us now,” Duff grins, stealing a quick kiss. Tendrils of wavy blond hair tickle your cheeks when he dips down to your lips. You never understood why he felt the need to steal them. Anything he wanted, you gave willingly. The rest of the world saw his demented and damned soul. You were fortunate to know every complex piece of him, but not all of them were rooted in evil. His love for you was genuine, unwavering, quite possibly his only redeeming quality. “America’s Most Wanted.”

Your head snaps over to the sound of an apartment door closing. Jogging down the steps and onto the pavement, a man untangles a green leash before hooking it onto his dog. The word screams in your head. Target.

Duff is already smirking when you look back at him. He gives you an encouraging nod; You dig into the back pocket of your jeans, pulling out the boxcutter with a sly smile. “Go get ‘em, sweetheart.”

134 notes · View notes

iraacundus · 4 years

Text

Butterfly Lies - Five

chapter five ✭ masterlist ✭ previous ✭ next ✭

mafialeader kun x reader

words: 4.2k

genre: smut, angst, fluff

warnings: violence, offensive language

money makes people do strange things, is what people would say, it can even motivate them to murder. kun didn’t have people killed for the money, he had them killed for the power, he was a monster among men, is what people would say. in reality kun had only ever been motivated by one thing, his love for you

✭ ✭ ✭ ✭ ✭

You were confused for a second when you woke up, Kun’s arm draped over your body, pulling you towards him in his sleep.

Memories of the night before flashed through your mind. You expected to feel angry at yourself for taking such a step but the sight of Kun’s face when he slept prevented any such anger.

You moved your hand up to trace his face lightly, following the line of his eyebrow, down his check, before your finger finally reached his lips.

Your cheeks blushed red as you leaned forward slightly, placing a kiss on his lips, just for a second. It was enough for his eyes to flutter open.

“This is the best wake up call, I’ve ever had,” Kun said, his eyes opening slowly as he smiled. The pure look on his face made your heart ache, thinking about how every morning could have been like this if it wasn’t for your situation.

You wanted this to be a one-night thing, to go back to your policy of staying away, but his smile made that impossible. As he pulled you in closer, your head against his bare chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear.

You knew you couldn’t cause pain to Kun’s heart again; you couldn’t mess him around like that, you didn’t want to. You wanted to stay in his arms forever.

“Do you have work now?” you asked him, ignoring his statement about the kiss out of slight embarrassment.

Kun shook his head.

“I don’t have to go in until later, I figured we definitely need to talk now.” He was smiling, but at the mention of a ‘talk’ you could see the worry behind his eyes.

“What we need to do is have breakfast, do you have food?” you asked, rolling away from Kun and standing up. You walked out into his kitchen and started looking through the drawers, careful not to open the one with the gun this time.

Kun’s cupboard was shamefully bare for a man who was such a good cook.

“Why do you have like four things in your fridge, how do you survive?” you questioned.

Kun shrugged,

“I eat out a lot of the time now, my cooking skills are starting to go to waste.”

Despite that he managed to find flour, milk and eggs in the cupboard to make pancakes. You offered to help but you both knew Kun would be three thousand times more successful alone. So, you decided to take on a role that focused more on just sitting and watching.

“You really are talented at everything,” you praised him, it was Kun’s turn to go red.

“Stirring mixture isn’t really that hard, I promise to buy some ingredients and make you something really nice when we have time,” he replied. He looked so cute with the small bit of flour that had ended up on his nose.

You jumped off the counter and stood close to him, gently brushing the flour off his nose before placing a light kiss on the same spot.

“I refuse to believe that there are people out there who are scared of you when I see you like this,” you told him. Kun shrugged as he poured some mixture into the frying pan.

“I’m only this nice to you sweetheart,” he said in earnest but shortly followed up with a cheeky wink. He turned back to focus on flipping the pancakes, getting it perfectly in one try.

You didn’t have quite the same luck with the pancake flying through the air and landing on one of the kitchen cupboards… you let Kun flip the rest.

You sprayed cream on them and got maple syrup all over your hands making them sticky.

“I feel like a little kid,” you laughed, trying to lick the syrup off your hands after finishing your pancakes. Kun chuckled in response but you could see the concern rising in his face again. You couldn’t ignore it forever.

You cleaned your dishes away and sat down with Kun on the sofa, before he could speak you interrupted him.

“Can we have just five more minutes before we…?” you asked, not waiting for an answer before you brought your lips to his. Trying to assure him in a way that words couldn’t the way you felt about him.

Kun drew away quicker than you would have liked, ending by returning the kiss on the nose.

“We can’t avoid this y/n,” he said. You had been avoiding it for years and you almost wanted to keep avoiding now you had experienced this side of Kun. Yet you needed answers more, you needed to understand why your best friend was doing this. How did a teenage petty criminal become a killer?

“I need you to start being totally honest with me Kun,” you said, at exactly the same moment he had said,

“Do you still love me?”

You were a little thrown off, clearly the conversations you both thought you needed were not the same conversation. Silence was the result.

“I need answers Kun,” is all you managed to reply. Kun stared off at the wall unable to look you in the eye as his finger traced the top of your hand.

“I don’t tell you things to keep you safe, y/n… you know this.” “Do you not trust me?” you asked him. He shook his head rapidly, swallowing the arguments he was about to make and giving in.

“Ask what you want, I can’t promise I will answer, but I will try to, and I certainly won’t lie anymore.”

That was a compromise you could live with.

“I need you to explain what your gang really does and how you suddenly became a gang leader, when I met you that wasn’t what you were doing, I’m sure of it.”

“Correct. I became a gang leader over time. This will sound crazy and I really cannot explain why but would you believe me if I said I created my gang to keep you safe?”

“That doesn’t make any sense Kun,” you said, yet you knew he wasn’t lying, Kun didn’t break his promises to you, if he said he wasn’t lying he was.

“We run as a rival gang to some really bad people… not that we are good, I would never try and say I’m a good person. My intentions are simply to be better than him,”

“Who?”

“I can’t say his name, you would know who it was though, he’s someone I really hate.” This statement brought you no closer to the truth, you couldn’t think of anyone Kun hated.

“We do all the same evil things, run drugs, white collar crime, killer for hire, we just put a lot of money back into the community to try and make it better. We also don’t kill innocent people if we can help it, they have to have done something bad. I doesn’t make it better; I sound like I’m trying to justify myself. I know there is no justification.”

You want him to explain it properly, but you know he won’t. The fact he told you anything was an improvement and you didn’t want to fight him anymore.

“Everything I do, I do because I love you,” he said. It was a truth that was as clear as day, you could see it in his eyes.

“And you trust me completely?” you questioned, he gave a firm nod in response, “then let me go with Ten to Korea without you coming to. I do my job and you do yours. If I work hard to become as competent in this life as you, then you can tell me the whole truth.”

“Why do you need to know so badly, isn’t it enough to know I did it because I love you?”

“That’s exactly why I need to know. I need to know what you had to do for me, or I can never be happy accepting your love. You did it because you love me, fine. I need to know so I can love you without the weight of a secret so big.

“Meet Ten at the airport tonight at six, I will send a car.”

“Thank you,” you said, the hint of a smile on your lips as you rested your head on his shoulder. “When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes, you’re the only thing I think I got right,” Kun whispered, his lips against your hair.

“Thank you for doing it for me… whatever the reason, even if I don’t think you should have, I’m still grateful.”

“I love you,” he said, bringing his lips down, gentle kissing your exposed shoulder. You couldn’t help but wrap your arms around him and hold him tight. You knew the second you slept with him there was no turning back.

Even before then this had been inevitable. You would never truly have been able to give up Kun.

If you can’t beat them, join them.

It was that mentality that had you on a plane at eight the next morning, reading a magazine next to Ten who was still disturbed from the free fruit the flight attendant had handed out.

All you knew about the trip is that you were meeting Johnny from NCT to work out where to start up a joint office in Seoul.

You were currently more focused on how comfy your first-class seat was, it wasn’t something you had ever experienced before.

You played with a ring around your pinkie finger. Kun had given it you. It was a GPS, not all the time, you were not accepting a boyfriend who was that much of a stalker, it only turned on when you twisted it, in case you were in trouble. Kun had a similar one that matched.

You thought it was slight overkill when truly all you were doing was scouting out office buildings, Kun had been insistent though.

The plane landed an hour later at Incheon airport where a private car was waiting for you and Ten – the life of luxury continued.

The distance to Johnny’s office wasn’t far but the traffic was shocking, so it took a while. As Ten napped you started googling possible options and noting them down on your phone.

It was dark by the time you had reached the NCT Corporation building. It was much larger than Kun’s building but then that was because it was a much larger organisation. That was the whole reason Kun wanted to strengthen ties between the two. Kun’s company was technically a subsidiary of NCT corporation anyway.

You placed your sunglasses on even though it was dark and checked your lipstick. You wanted to create the impression that you were here for business, even if that business was friendly.

They thought Kun was impressive, intelligent? Wait until they met you. You had no idea where you had found this confidence, but it was something you were running with.

“After you,” Ten said, motioning into the building. You smiled and thanked him graciously, walking past, through the doors and up to the front desk.

“Miss Y/L/N and Mr Leechaiyapornkul from Qian Industries here to see Johnny Suh,” you said, looking down over your sunglasses to speak to the receptionist. Before they could make the phone call, a man’s voice greeted you.

“Y/n, Ten, lovely to meet you both.”

You looked over to see a tall, smiling man that you assumed was Johnny.

“The pleasure is all ours,” you replied as Ten shook his hand.

“I hope your flight was good?” Johnny enquired. You grinned,

“Flying first class is certainly the high life.”

Johnny seemed to laugh genuinely at your joke, you could tell why Kun wanted to work with this organisation if its workers were like Johnny.

You didn’t waste much time after that, Johnny led you to where he had picked out his top three choices and cross referenced them with yours.

“Your number 2 is the same as mine y/n, I think it could work. If you want, we can stop by there now and see?” Johnny proposed.

You nodded, glancing over at Ten who was texting someone absentmindedly. You had sort of taken over the main role of the mission.

“Yeah for sure, that would be great.”

Johnny’s car was sleek black and brand new. You climbed into the passenger seat, Ten grumbling about having to sit in the back. Apparently, it undermined him as a senior gang member.

You reminded him you knew Kun first, that you were his first ever supporter which caused Ten to at least grumble slightly more quietly.

“You and Kun go way back then huh?” Johnny asked.

You smiled.

“He’s an old friend,” you confirmed.

“Whose hopelessly in love with her,” Ten added causing you to blush.

“I don’t think it’s quite like that,”

“You didn’t have to live with him when he was ignoring you, ‘oh I really don’t want to hurt her, oh I’m so sad, I’m Kun and I’m sad because I’m avoiding my girlfriend.”

You flipped Ten off.

“Do they call you Ten because that’s the age you act?” you asked him, “this is work Ten get it together.”

Johnny started laughing,

“No worries, I find it kind of funny anyway, a lot of our guys are like this too, especially some of the younger ones.”

Something about the tone of his voice made you think you really needed to meet these ‘younger ones’ someday.

Your thoughts were brought to a sudden end as the horn sounded, and a large SUV drove straight into the back of Johnny’s car.

“Fuck!” Johnny exhaled as the car stopped, “are you both okay?”

You nodded slightly, undoing your seatbelt and stepping out of the car. You had a small scratch on your forehead nothing major. You were more annoyed as you knew Kun would make a fuss.

“What the hell man?” Johnny called out to the driver of the other car, “watch where your… oh its you.” His voice faded out.

You looked round the side of the car to see men holding flick knives walking slowly towards Johnny. Ten ran over to stand beside Johnny, pulling a gun out of his jacket.

You started to panic slightly. Your idea of what being part of a gang was, was slowly changing to a much more dangerous idea. The reality of which you weren’t sure you were prepared for.

Ten shot two of the guys in the leg as Johnny tried to punch a few. There was six of them and only three of you. Two of you really, you were hiding behind the car.

“Ah look they have a pretty girl,” one of the men called out. Clearly you had not been hiding well enough.

Ten looked over to you, suddenly remembering you were there, it was only for a second but one of the guys managed to lean over and stab him in the arm, causing him to drop his gun, before Johnny could knock him out.

There was three of them left standing and only Johnny to face them. You saw one of them reach for Ten’s dropped gun and you panicked. You don’t know what happened, but you pulled your shoes off and ran towards where the gun was on the ground.

You picked it up and threw it away as hard as you could before grabbing the side of your heel.

You stabbed the man coming towards you in the side of the neck with your heel. One of the men deserted leaving only one, who Johnny managed to incapacitate.

You leaned over and pulled your jacket off, placing it on Ten’s wound tightly.

“Do you have a doctor or something?” you asked Johnny.

“I’ve already sent out an alert,” he said.

Moments later another black SUV pulled up but this time friendly faces jumped out.

You had been studying NCT’s key players and you recognised them as Doyoung and Jeno.

They helped you lift Ten into the car and shut the door. Jeno started to drive as Doyoung tried to deal with Ten’s injury.

“You’re lucky it’s not as bad as it looks,” he told him.

You realised you should probably call Kun, but for some reason it scared you. You knew Kun wouldn’t be angry at you, even if it had been your fault, but you knew he would be worried, and you really didn’t want to cause him anxiety.

He picked up on the second ring,

“Yes love?” he asked, in any other situation your heart would have been fluttering.

“Ten got stabbed,” you said simply. Kun’s voice didn’t panic like you thought it would, he stayed calm.

“Is he alright? Do you have a doctor?”

“We have Doyoung, I think that’s similar,”

“Yeh Doyoung’s great, are you okay? What happened?”

You explained the whole affair to him, he didn’t interrupt once.

“I’m getting the next flight out, stay inside their building, call me if anything happens with Ten, if I’m on the plane call Sicheng.”

“I love you,” you told him.

“I love you too, stay safe.”

The van stopped suddenly outside the NCT main building. Someone opened the door and helped you out before shutting it again.

“They need to take your friend round back… for obvious reasons,” he explained. “I’m Taeyong by the way.”

He looked slightly scary, he had a large scar across his right cheek, but his voice sounded almost cute. There was no way you could actually be scared of him.

He didn’t offer up any more conversation, nor did you, still in a slight state of shock.

He pressed on the elevator button and waited. When the doors opened with a ding, he motioned for you to enter first.

You nodded your head and smiled at him in thanks.

You both remained in silence until Taeyong led you into what must have been his office. It was both bigger and furnished more expensively than Kun’s, something you thought wouldn’t have been possible. Then NCT was a much larger organisation – WayV was only a subsidy.

“As the leader of NCT I would like to apologise for what happened today, I know you have only recently joined Kun’s organisation… this was meant to be a very safe enterprise.”

You were both surprised and unsurprised that Taeyong was the leader. You had a vision of someone scarier despite the fact Kun wasn’t scary. But when you looked at Taeyong, his concern and calming energy seemed perfect to make him a leader.

“It’s not your fault, occupational hazard I guess.”

Taeyong had the whisper of a smile on his face as he turned around and poured to drinks, sitting down at his desk and pushing one across to you.

“I had hoped to meet you in better circumstances, he doesn’t talk much about it, but everyone can tell Kun’s obsessed with you.”

You blushed red. You couldn’t believe everyone knew who you were and that Kun had liked you for years.

Taeyong smiled at your cute reaction.

“He doesn’t gossip about you or anything, he just used to get sad about it when he was very drunk. He seems happier now, he even texted me a smiley face emoji the other day.”

It was your turn to smile at the relationship between Kun and Taeyong. You were glad you were a part of his world, only if it meant you could finally see friends of his like Taeyong, you could finally see the whole picture.

“Do you know if Ten is okay?” you asked. Taeyong nodded.

“I would have let you stay with him but Kun instructed me not to before he got on the plane. He didn’t want you to see how gruesome it was.”

You internally rolled your eyes, Kun was slightly ridiculous, you had already watched him be stabbed how much worse could it get.

“I have to go do some work to sort this out, you are welcome to stay here and watch TV on my iPad or something,” Taeyong offered somewhat sheepishly.

“Kun told you to make me stay, here didn’t he?” Taeyong nodded.

“And while Kun doesn’t tell me what do to I feel like it’s easier just to go with him on this one, sorry y/n.”

Taeyong left and you settled for playing a crossword app he had. You got so engrossed in it you didn’t notice how long had passed.

You realised Kun’s flight would have landed about ten minutes ago.

You were excited to see him because you missed him even over such a short time. Equally you were slightly worried of how he was going to act, what he was going to do, seeing as he already had you on office arrest.

You take another sip of your rather strong drink. You were determined not to be persuaded my Kun to step down or back out again. He may have been your boyfriend, but you knew you could handle yourself. At least you were learning how to.

Moments later Kun burst through the office door and walked over towards you. You stood up instinctively, noticing immediately how pale his face was.

He wrapped his arms around you without saying anything. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in. It wasn’t that you had felt unsafe before in Taeyong’s office, but you felt much safer with Kun right by you.

“Thank goodness you are both alive… I should never have let you come y/n,” Kun said, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “at least not by yourself.”

“I wasn’t by myself,” you protested, “I was with Ten… who would be much less alive had I not been there.” You wanted to have this conversation and sort things out but equally you knew it wasn’t the right time.

“You don’t have to tell me how amazing you are love; doesn’t mean I don’t worry about you… when I got a phone call from Taeyong…I”

You pulled Kun’s chin up,

“But we are both alive and fine, I’m totally fine Kun its okay,” you said, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around. I’m sorry,” Kun apologised.

“I am fine though, worried about Ten of course, but I’m strangely fine about the whole situation. Finding your gun in the kitchen was much more perturbing to me.”

“That’s because you are in a form of shock, you’re not processing the situation properly,” Kun said. It could have been true; you really didn’t think that was the case though.

“Ten has to stay here for a few weeks,” Kun explained, “we can go visit him now, but then we are getting the next flight back to China.”

Kun held your hand as you walked out the office door, his grip firm, unwilling to let you go.

Ten was fine when you saw him.

“It’s not exactly my first rodeo, also that stab with the heel? You’re a stone-cold bitch that was epic.”

“Don’t call her a bitch Ten,” Kun reprimanded but you smiled and gave him a high-five.

“At least someone knows skill when they see it,” you laughed back to him.

It wasn’t long before someone who worked for Taeyong was driving you and Kun to the airport.

“Is the airport not that way?” you asked Kun when you turned in a different to the one you remembered.

Airports are easy places to make you a target, we are going to the private airfield.” Kun explained.

That also explained how he had got a flight so quickly here.

The car stopped right outside the steps to a private jet.

“This is insane Kun,” you remarked, “we would have been perfectly fine on the normal plane.”

“I’m not longer taking that chance,” he said, “plus why not take private jet when you can afford it?”

“The environment?” you protested.

“Just get on the plane,” Kun told you, unable to argue you with your last point. You walked up the stairs, with more objections but invariably excited to be on a private jet.

It was dark as the plane took off, heading back to China.

“I missed you, you know?” you told Kun. He smiled squeezing your hand.

“I love you, y/n, I’m not putting you in that kind of situation without me again.”

“What would you being there change?”

“It would change everything, because if anyone ever tried to stab you when I was there, I would stand in front of the knife.”

It pained you to know that was true. You would never want Kun to sacrifice himself for you. But you knew he would in a heartbeat, he never had to say it. Hopefully it just never came to that.

“You are the one thing in my life that’s truly good. I need you to know that.” Kun told you.

When the seatbelt sign turned off, you stood up and moved to sit on Kun’s lap, wrapping your arms around him.

“I love you too,” you told him, holding him tight. There were worse things in life than Kun not leaving you alone. You didn’t like being apart from him anyway. You had done that for a few years and had hated it enough to join a gang. Kun’s gang.

“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you either,” you said, stroking his hair softly. Head in the clouds, high above the clouds.

#sorry it took me so long to post - i got this part done out of the popular demand !!#kun #kun scenarios #wayv #nct #kun smut #wayv smut #wayv fluff #kun fluff #wayv sceanrios #nct scenarios #kun imagines #wayv imagines #kun fics #wayv fics

76 notes · View notes

et-lesailes · 5 years

Text

alibi

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 2485

summary: the death of harlan thrombey is being investigated, and while ransom seems to be the perfect suspect, he also has the perfect alibi.

themes: mentions of murder, drama, fluff

taglist: @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester, @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @mizariomi, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @marvelouspottering, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @peach-acid, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @danathewitchywoman, @denisemarieangelina, @mango--mango, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06, @almost-had-the-stars, @sebastian-i-stan, @whysparker

notes: this was based on an idea given to me by @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and i absolutely loved it! i did change it up a little, and no i did not reveal who the actual killer is-- because i don’t know how to write mystery fics for shit, and i wanted to focus on ransom and reader’s relationship rather than solving an entire ass murder. anywho there are references to scenes from the movie so if you’re sensitive to spoilers then don’t read! and thank you to @thewritingdoll for the graphic!

“You think I killed my Granddad.”

Ransom looks at Detective Benoit for a few seconds before scoffing, even smirking as he looks to the window of the elegant room lined with bookshelves. “And why exactly do you think that?”

“Now I didn’t say that.” The detective drawls, leaning forward and looking at the younger with intense crystal hues. “But you left his party early, right after a rather serious fight with him, and you don’t bother to show to the funeral… seems a little suspicious. I’d like to know where you were.”

Ransom looks at the detective for a few moments before leaning in as well. “Where I was,” he lowers his voice, “is none of your goddamn business. It’s not even relevant to anyone in this goddamn family, so you can go ahead and get your Kentucky Fried ass out of it right now.” He stands up, looking at the detective almost challengingly. “Maybe you should find another occupation, Detective, because you don’t seem all that great at this one.”

Benoit watches as the man turns around and walks out the door. A few seconds later, he stands up as well, walking outside. He gets into the passenger side of a waiting car, the headlights turned off.

He nods towards Detective Elliot sitting in the driver’s side. “Follow him.”

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER

“Interesting how you’ll show up at the reading of the will and not at your grandfather’s actual funeral.” Walt Thrombey comments as Ransom strides into the room, his expression bored as he tucks his sunglasses into his pocket. He barely smirks in amusement upon his uncle’s comment, sitting himself down on one of the couches and crossing his legs. “Had another commitment. Unlike you, I wasn’t stuck up his ass my whole life.”

Walt widens his eyes, immediately shooting up from his seat through struggling slightly with his limp. “What the hell did you just say to me? That’s not true, w-we worked together, of course we had to spend time together!” His wife quickly grabs his arm, giving Ransom a dirty look. “Just sit down, sweetheart.” Ransom notices his father barely chuckle out of the corner of his eye.

What a family.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ransom,” Meg hisses, glaring at her older cousin. “You never appreciated Granddad. All you did was fight with him all the time.” Her mother Joni bites her lip but murmurs, “Up until his very last night…. Seems a little suspicious.” Linda immediately turns on her. “Excuse you? Are you trying to imply something here concerning my son?”

“Oh come on, Linda,” Walt scoffs, “I bet you wouldn’t put it past him either. Kid’s a sociopath, always has been. We’ve been telling you to get him help for years.”

“My son does not need help!” Richard raises his voice, standing up infuriated. “And do you really want to talk about damaged children right now? Have you met Jacob?”

The young teenage boy looks up from his phone, clearly offended. “What’s wrong with me? Besides, I told you guys, I heard Ransom basically threatening Granddad! He clearly did it!” His mother quickly rubs his arm. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Jacob.” The fight only escalates from there, insults directed towards all the Thrombey children firing back and forth.

Ransom can’t help himself. It starts out as a grin, then a low chuckle, then finally a loud cackle of laughter. He’s practically thumping the armrest of the couch, shaking his head to himself. “Oh, God. You guys are too funny. We should do this more often.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Meg practically screeches, “What is wrong with you? How are you getting enjoyment from this?” Over her voice, other comments can be heard-- “He shouldn’t even be here!” “Can he just fucking leave already?” “Do something about your son!” “Why do you guys suck as parents?” “He should be removed from the damn family!” “Fucking spoiled brat!” “Cut him off already!”

Ransom scoffs, his face still full of amusement. “How about… eat shit,” he points to Meg, then Walt, “and you eat shit,” he continues, then chuckles seeing his parents reprimanding him, “you definitely eat shit…”

He’s still going as everyone’s telling him how “classy” he is, the uproar becoming louder and louder. Perhaps anyone else in his position would be affected by this-- it normally isn’t easy for most to be so hated and despised by their own family, and it’s generally quite stressful to be in a yelling match with at least seven other people. Not for Ransom, though. He’s lived with this dysfunction his whole life, and now, he only finds it hilarious how uptight and irritable his high strung family gets. They make it so damn easy for him to have some fun.

“Hello? Excuse me!” a loud voice rings above all the fighting, and everyone falls silent, looking towards the doorway. An old man is standing there, looking at the family in both shock and disgust. “We’re ready to read the will now, if you all are done.” Everyone immediately gets up, nodding their heads and forgetting all about the drama Ransom’s started.

For now, anyways.

Detective Benoit Blanc can’t help but study Ransom as the will is being read, taking in how calm and collected he is. He has not eliminated any suspects, and God knows this entire family is a mess of dysfunction and motive, but he has at least had the opportunity to talk with them and get to know them a little better. Ransom is still a mystery, and he finds this suspicious.

It is not long before the family is in an uproar again, this time over the will. Even Benoit is shocked. All of Harlan’s inheritance, gone to Marta Cabrera? He looks to Ransom, who’s simply sitting there grinning like an idiot- even beginning to laugh hysterically.

Ransom appears to be the only one who knew of Harlan’s plans before anyone else in the family. Benoit takes note of this. Perhaps it will help him later on.

PRESENT TIME

“There’s two cars in the driveway.” Lieutenant Elliot notes, the two of them watching as Ransom gets out of his. “A Honda Civic. Nothing flashy, expensive-- certainly not Ransom’s.” Benoit murmurs, keeping his head slightly low as he keeps an eye on the man from their spot behind a tree. He walks into the modern style home, and Elliot barely chuckles. “These giant windows sure help. Jesus, he must not care too much for privacy.” He raises an eyebrow, adding, “Not that this is going to give us anything, Benny, come on-- the guy killed himself. That’s all there is to it.”

“There’s just something about this boy.” Benoit sighs, looking to the house calmly. “He’s… hiding something. From his entire family. I’d like to make sure it doesn’t involve Harlan’s death.”

What the two see in the next five minutes is definitely unexpected, to say the least. Elliot watches the living room window in shock, scoffing slowly. “Unbelievable. This is what he’s hiding? How-- how could his family not know?”

Benoit watches, his expression unreadable for a few moments before the corner of his lips slowly tugs upwards. “I see.” He murmurs, more so to himself. “I suppose the kid could be innocent, after all.”

“Why am I here again?” Ransom raises an eyebrow at the man before him, crossing his legs. “We’ve already gone over this. I didn’t kill my Granddad, and I’m not answering any questions as to where I-”

“Anette Harper Drysdale.” Benoit cuts him off, looking at an open file in his hands. “Born November 22nd at 11:42 AM.” He looks up at Ransom’s shocked expression, tilting his head to one side. “During your grandfather’s funeral.” He looks back down at the file, flipping to another page. “It appears her mother arrived at the hospital the night before, though. Early contractions. You checked in to see her at 9:23 PM and didn’t check out until after the baby was born.”

“How do you have those?” Ransom immediately hisses, shooting up from his chair and reaching out to grab the file. Benoit lets him, having suspected he would do as much anyways. “We had reasonable suspicion, and so the hospital was required to give it to us. I’m only confused as to why you didn’t just tell us all of this from the start. You clearly had no part in your grandfather’s death. Why not prove yourself innocent with this?”

“Because my family can’t know about Y/N. And they especially can’t know about Anette.” Ransom sits back down, teeth grit from frustration. “Fine. You got me, alright? I’m married. And now, I have a daughter. A daughter who isn’t even a week old. That’s all I’m hiding here, and I want to continue hiding it. I’m not introducing my real family to this fucked up bunch.”

“I won’t tell them.” Benoit replies after studying the other for a few moments. “I have to admit, I had you all wrong.”

“Yeah, most people do. Look, being with Y/N- I’m not the same person I was before. I mean, sure, I’m not a fucking saint. And I’ll still take any chance I can to see my parents, cousins, uncles, aunts-- to see them get screwed over just because of how damn entertaining it is. But I’m never, never going to do something to jeopardize my wife, and now, my daughter. Do you get that?”

Benoit looks at the intensity in Ransom’s features. He’s sure the boy knows how to lie like a pro, but he can tell he’s not lying now.

“You can go, Ransom. I’ve officially eliminated you as a suspect from this case.”

You’re sitting at home in the nursery and cradling your sweet baby girl to sleep when Ransom walks in, his loud sigh echoing through the spacious living room. “Oh!” you whisper, wanting to call to him that you’re upstairs but definitely not wanting to wake little Anette. You carefully stand up, holding her close as you walk out of the nursery, coming to the banister that gives you a view of the front door so you can wave to him to come up. He immediately grins upon seeing you, taking off his coat and scarf tossing both on the nearby couch before making his way upstairs. “Hey.” He mumbles lowly, wrapping one arm around you and kissing your head. “How is she?” You smile, leaning into your boyfriend’s hold. “A little angel. I can’t believe how lucky we got, she barely cries-- only when she’s hungry.”

He stares down at his daughter’s face, almost in disbelief with himself. He never cared for babies, or for people for that matter. After living with such a shit family like his, he had never really learned what loving or caring for someone was like. He watched them use others, use his grandfather’s money for their own success, and so that’s what he did. People were puppets to be manipulated, and he could bend them to his will however he wanted because of his family’s money.

And then he met you. No, it wasn’t love at first sight, no bullshit like that. He hates to think about it but in the beginning, he saw you as he saw every other female companion he came across. Someone to play with, someone to throw money at for a couple of weeks just for the hell of it, someone to satisfy his sexual needs.

At least, that’s what he had wanted from you. And you were certainly not giving into it.

He remembers how shocked yet intrigued he had been. You wouldn’t accept any money from him, and you didn’t fall for any of his charming flirtations. He even had to watch you date other men right in front of him before finally realizing this was driving him crazy. It started out as simply wanting something he couldn’t have. As he got to know you, it turned into just… wanting you no matter what. It stopped becoming some type of challenging game to him. It became reality.

He thought he was the master manipulator in any relationship, but damn, you managed to twist him into all sorts of shapes and forms without even trying.

“She gets it from you, you know.” He mutters playfully with a scoff as he carefully walks you back into the nursery, eyes still fixated on his sleeping baby’s face. “Can’t even imagine having one like me running around.” You laugh softly at the thought, gently setting the little girl down into her crib. She barely frowns and you hold your breath, worried that those blue-green eyes might open along with a wailing mouth, but she simply settles down again and resumes sleeping. “Well, that might be a possibility in the future,” you remark as you step back, looking up at him with an amused smile. “Aren’t you the one who said you want us to have at least three?”

“Mainly because you look so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Ransom mutters, leaning down to bury his head in your neck and start kissing at every inch of skin he can. “It’s just so hot seeing you carry my child.” You smile as you tilt your head, reaching your hand up to stroke his hair. “Well my handsome baby daddy, you can calm down for the time being because I have no plans of being pregnant again right after giving birth.” He sighs dramatically as the two of you leave the nursery, closing the door but leaving it slightly cracked open. “Mm, fine, we’ll talk when Anette’s one.”

You chuckle softly but bite your lip, holding his hands as you stop to look up at him. “What did he ask you?” Ransom pauses before sighing, looking down at you seriously. “He knows about us. About Anette. But he promised he wouldn’t tell my family. He just cleared me from the case, I’m officially not involved anymore.”

You sigh in relief, squeezing his hand lightly. “That’s great, baby. But... what are you going to do?” you ask, a little worried. “Sooner or later you’re not going to have their money anymore. I don’t mind being the only one working, babe, but with a single income we might have to move out of this place…”

Ransom looks down at you more seriously, reaching out to stroke a strand of your hair behind your ear. “If I have to get a job at my mom’s stupid real estate agency, I will. No matter what, we’ll figure this out. I’m going to do whatever I can if it means providing for the two of you and giving you the best damn life possible, got it?”

You smile and nod your head, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “As long as you’re here with us, we’ve already got the best life.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale fic #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom thrombey imagine #knives out spoilers

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mrs-theirin · 3 years

Text

understanding.

so uh this originally started as “hating rebecca hours”, then it was loving nate hours, and then suddenly at the last second it became.......mutually respecting adam hours??? so here we are. @magebastard this one’s for you <3

calliope langford x nate sewell / calliope & adam du mortain, 2585 words. mommy issues paired with getting to know your stuffy leader better (also on ao3 <3)

The apartment is quiet.

Mind-numbingly quiet, actually.

“Stay home and enjoy yourself,” Tina had said, practically pushing Calliope out the door, a wide smile plastered on her face that said if you don’t go home right now I will end you. Even Verda came out from the lab to say goodbye, his gentle eyes hardened in a way that let her know there was no fighting him.

She needs something to do. The apartment just isn’t the same without Farah’s laughter, Adam’s groans of distaste, the irritating clouds of Morgan’s smoke—which still lingers on everything she owns. Honestly, she’s going to take Morgan’s cigarettes and shove them somewhere unpleasant—and Nate’s warm, calming presence. She debates sending him a text, maybe asking him for coffee, but the idea leaves as quickly as it came.

He’s probably busy. She’s sure he has more important things to do than—

Im bad at this texting thing. Coffee

Calliope laughs. Before she can respond, another text from Nate comes in.

That was supposed to be a question. I cant find the apostrophe or question mark. I would like to have coffee with you.

Another text, separate from the last.

Now, if you can. I heard you were sent home from work and I know how much you like the pastries there.

Her heart races at the thought of Nate frantically typing away at his phone, confused but determined to send her a text. She must admit, it’s a hilarious image, and she laughs as she sends her response.

relax and look for the “123” on the left of the keyboard. you’ll find all your punctuation needs there. and yes, i’d love to go get coffee. meet me there?

Ah! Found it. Thank you. And no, I’m outside your apartment.

Calliope straightens, deigning to push aside the curtain and peek out at the sidewalk. Sure enough, Nate stands awkwardly outside, staring down at his phone. His gaze flickers up as her hand makes the curtain dance, and he waves politely. She waves back. She mouths “be right there” and pulls away, cursing herself for looking outside in the first place. Did he just run here? Was he just outside her apartment when he sent the original text? Did he just assume she would say yes?

She rushes to her bedroom, ripping the nicest—and hopefully subtle—thing she owns out of her closet and throws it on, stopping in front of the mirror to undo the messy bun she has her bright orange hair in and tussle it into something appropriate. She glances at the panicked look in her eyes, and tries to calm down. What is she freaking out for? It’s just Nate.

I would fight through any form of technology if I knew you were on the other end.

Nate, who can make her face flush with just a few words. Nate, who towers over her, his warm brown eyes staring into her soul. Nate, who is patiently standing outside waiting to take her to coffee. She tries not to hold out too much hope that it’s a date.

“Hey!” she says when she finally makes it outside, unconsciously taking too large of a step and standing uncomfortably close to him, which she quickly rectifies by inching backwards. They both laugh nervously. “Did you—”

“I was in the neighborhood,” Nate rushes out, his face flushing. “It’s a beautiful day out.”

She accepts the obvious lie with a face full of heat. “Let’s go then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She loves the way he laughs.

At Haley’s, he relaxes; his shoulders slouching, his gaze softening. He is no longer scanning every person on the street, trying to gauge if they’re a threat. He is talking and he is joking and he is smiling and he is laughing. And every time he throws his head back to laugh at some stupid sarcastic joke she makes, she melts.

He sighs dreamily, then faces her with soft, kind eyes. “I really missed you, Calliope.”

Her heart thumps in her chest. “I missed you too. You could’ve called, you know.”

His smile fades. “I wasn’t allowed to. The Agency thought it was better if we just...left you alone for a while.”

“So I could recover?”

Nate turns away, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Before she can ask him to elaborate, she hears a familiar clack of heels behind her. Her body tenses. “Calliope,” her mother’s voice says, clear and professional, though surprised. She wasn’t expecting her daughter to be here.

Calliope doesn’t even turn. Her hand clenches around her coffee and she clears her throat. “Rebecca.”

Something in her dies when she sees Rebecca take the seat next to her. It is crushed to ash as she turns to Nate, who is smiling kindly at Rebecca, ordering another pastry for her, inviting her to stay longer than Calliope prefers. Her mother hums gently. “Coffee date?” she asks, though there is something else in her voice. Something resentful. Something...cautious.

“And what if it was?” Calliope mumbles into her coffee, as Nate replies, “Oh no, just catching up.”

“You should be careful about how much time you spend in the open, Agent Sewell,” Rebecca offers, and it’s obvious why she’s saying it. Calliope begins to shake, as she always does around her mother, and washes her resentment down with her coffee. The warm liquid contrasts the coldness of her bitterness.

It wasn’t always this way with Rebecca; there was a time where they laughed and smiled and shot each other with water guns. But eventually laughter dies out, smiles fade away, and water guns change to Glock 22s. Love changes to resentment. Dads die.

She understands why secrets were kept. She hates that Rebecca doesn’t understand why she would be upset by the secrets that were kept. The way Rebecca’s eye twitches when Nate leans into Calliope is sign enough on its own. Can’t even be happy with the circumstances she has, apparently.

“Of course,” Nate says, professional as always. “Understood.”

“Let the man...or, vamp, live,” Calliope retorts. “We’re just having coffee.”

Rebecca presses her lips together tightly. “Calliope. Do I need to remind you why you’ve been wearing turtlenecks for months?”

She chokes on her coffee, slamming the cup down on the counter, the paper crunching in her hand. Typical of her mother to remind her of trauma, trauma that deeply affects her, as if it’s just a statement she can throw out at any given moment, like a quick anecdote or conversation starter. How can one look at their daughter having her neck torn out by a killer vampire and think, “This will be good for future scoldings”? And her scoldings, well, of course they aren’t scoldings, they’re concerns. Worries from a concerned mother. A mother who was so concerned about her daughter that she left for years with no contact, leaving the local librarians to raise Calliope.

Calliope tenses as she feels a hand on her shoulder, but deflates when she realizes what side the hand is on. Nate squeezes her shoulder affectionately, and she cannot thank him enough for being a rock. If Rebecca is the storm—cold, predictable, unrelenting—then Nate is the hearth; warm, welcoming, reassuring. He smiles softly at her.

“Of course you don’t,” she finally speaks, subconsciously scratching at the scars. “But considering I’ll be working with the Agency again soon, getting coffee won’t matter much, will it? Or are you trying to say that I can only put myself at risk if I’m not having fun?”

Rebecca’s eyebrow twitches as she sighs. “I’m only trying to look out for you—”

“No, you aren’t.” Her voice is stern, but quiet. Don’t want to draw too much attention. That’s the way it’s always been, right?. “You’re looking out for yourself and your reputation as a ‘good mother’, but it’s all crap anyway. If you wanted to preserve that, you wouldn’t be begging me every 5 seconds to tell you you’re doing a good job.”

“Calliope,” Nate gently warns, and she slowly shrugs his hand off of her shoulder. Now is not the time for another one of those sad, soulful looks he gives her when she argues with Rebecca. She doesn’t have the effort.

Rebecca’s lips are thinned again, in that disappointed scowl Calliope’s seen so much of since this whole Agency business started. “Sweetheart,” she starts, and Calliope is already cringing away, already preparing herself for whatever pandering crap Rebecca is about to spew. “I want you to be safe.”

“But not happy, clearly.”

“Calliope Langford.” Rebecca’s voice is harsh, but it only manages to enrage Calliope more. Her mother isn’t stern often, usually grabbing for the ‘soft and meek’ route, but on the occasion she does show annoyance, it’s never a pleasant feeling. Not because it upsets Calliope, but because she knows it’s a ruse. If she holds out, her mother will give in, because they both know she can’t stand being the bad guy (despite making herself the bad guy in every single conversation they have). “This is dangerous business. I don’t want to see you hurt. I do love you, whether you believe me or not.”

Calliope stands abruptly, slapping a $20 bill on the counter. “Why don’t you concern yourself less with whether I believe you, and more with whether you believe yourself. Come on, Nate.”

She starts to walk away, but hesitates when Nate doesn’t immediately follow, out of his seat but hunched over, like a kicked, obedient puppy. A twinge of betrayal tugs at Calliope’s chest, but she waves it off, instead holding up her hand, exasperated. She leaves without another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Calliope sighs in exasperation, about to hit the red ‘end call’ button, when the phone finally clicks, a stern, professional voice coming through as clear as day: “Special Agent Adam du Mortain. Is this something important?”

She rolls her eyes, unable to keep the smile off of her face. “It’s just me, Adam. You don’t have to answer the phone like that.”

“Is this something important,” he repeats, though this time it’s less of a question.

She gives in. “I was wondering if you wanted to spar. You said you were...less than impressed with my combat skills, so why don’t you teach me?”

The line is silent for a moment, before Adam lets out a small huff. “Where?”

She blinks. She hadn’t thought of that. “...Here?” she offers, uncertain.

He sighs heavily. “Open the door.”

The call ends and she is rooted in place for a moment before she springs up from her couch, opening the door and peeking out. Adam is standing on her stairs, looming over her, and he raises a single eyebrow, making the action of entering her apartment. She steps aside and watches him analyze the living room. “Move the table,” he says.

“You’re the one with the super strength,” she jokes, closing the door behind her. “Can’t you do it?”

He glares at her. “Are you serious about training with me?”

She straightens under his gaze, nodding sharply. “Yes,” she responds, though it comes out like a nervous question.

“Then move the table. And slide the couch away too. We need plenty of room.”

She salutes him, tying her hair back into a high ponytail. “Can do!”

He groans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why didn’t you call one of the others?” Adam asks, crossing his arms and staring down at the panting, sweating Calliope, who is holding onto her knees for dear life.

“Oh, you know—” she says between heavy breaths. “You’re starting to grow on me.”

“Your form is poor.”

“Oh, I know!” she wheezes. “You actually told me that, a bunch of times, like two seconds ago.”

If she didn’t know any better, she can swear she sees a ghost of a smile threatening to appear on Adam’s lips, then it’s gone as quickly as it came. He regards her with complete and utter disappointment. “They would’ve been nicer.”

“Ah, but nice isn’t what I need. I need to learn how to fight.”

This time Adam does actually smile, though it’s still not quite a full smile, more like pride over seeing a lesson learned. He cocks his head to the side. “It could also be that you’re fighting with Nate.”

She hesitates for a moment before scoffing. “I’m not fighting with Nate. Fighting would require words, of which there were none.”

Her two seconds of hesitation were enough for Adam, because he nods his head sharply, and scowls. “Figure it out. I don’t want you two at odds next time we’re all together.”

“Why?” Calliope drags the table back to its original spot, collapsing on the couch with a heave. “I thought I was a distraction.”

He joins her on the couch, his posture as formal as ever, the distance an obvious sign of something. “You are a distraction. But you’re more of a distraction when Nate is running through his mind trying to make up a list of ways he can make it up to you.”

“Make what up to me?”

“You’d have to tell me that.”

The two stare at each other before Calliope sighs, smiling. “Thank you for coming over. You didn’t have to.”

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t wish to,” he simply says, and she rolls her eyes.

“Loosen up a little sometime, huh? I think it would do you good.”

“Then you and I will have to have differing opinions.”

A knock sounds at the door, and Calliope starts to stand, but Adam takes the lead instead, gesturing for her to stay put. She doesn’t put up a fight, after all, her body is aching and all she really wants is a nap right now, maybe a 3 day slumber. When the door opens, she strains her ears to hear the soft mumbles of whoever is at the door. Adam’s voice is strong, and overshadows the meeker, much quieter voice of the person—no, woman, that’s a woman’s voice—standing at the door. A few more minutes pass until Calliope finally hears Adam say, “I think you should leave,” and shuts the door. When he returns, she gives him a curious smile.

“Who was that?” she asks, and he shakes his head.

“No one important. It’s late, I should leave. Goodnight, Detective Langford.”

She stops him before he can zip out. “Adam, honestly. You can call me Calliope. I promise you won’t implode.”

He hesitates, gears in his head clearly turning, then gives in, his shoulders visibly relaxing. “Goodnight, Calliope. You did well.”

“You’re lying to me!” she calls after him, and he says nothing as the door shuts behind him. She lets out a soft, incredulous laugh. Well, at least one good thing happened today.

She heads to the light switch, peeking out of the window just for a second to try to catch a glimpse of the woman Adam had sent away. Her heart drops into her feet as she sees the car she knows too well. Rebecca sits in her car, taking a deep breath, and eventually starts it up and drives away, shaking her head. Calliope is frozen at the window.

It was Rebecca at the door. Rebecca, who Adam...turned away? Told to leave?

She takes a moment to suck in a deep breath, letting out a loud sigh. Huh, she thinks, turning off the light and heading to her shower, eager to wash off the grime and sweat of training. Maybe he’s not so bad after all.

#just for you marty <3 #calliope langford #detective x nate sewell #detective x nate #nate x detective #detective & rebecca #detective & adam du mortain #nate sewell #rebecca #adam du mortain #the wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven chronicles #wayhaven #twc #fic #quill's writing

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nightshift-cup-of-coffin · 3 years

Text

Left Alone

Annie and Mandy sat bundled up on either side of the couch, beer and snacks in hand. They were having a B rate horror marathon. It was something they shared, their own horror themed MST3K.

It had been half way through the first 'Clive Barker' classic when a knock came to the door. Mandy and Annie looked at one another and shook their heads. "Fuck no." Annie said sternly. They ignored it and went back to riffing.

Mandy raced for more beers and popcorn as Annie queued the next movie.

Tap! Tap!

Mandy jumped, against her better instincts she peeked out the balcony window. She flicked on the light, only the neighbors dog on the adjacent porch stirred.

Mandy shook it off, reminding herself "Annie lived in a apartment complex that mocked a cul-de-sac. Of course noises would bounce off the walls and over the grounds."

"Stuffs getting spooky. OooOOH" Mandy made an exaggerated wiggling of her fingers as Annie laughed.

The movie was just rolling through foggy credits and overgrown trees when a howling shot across the courtyard. "Your neighbors dog is loud as hell."

Annie looked puzzled for a moment "oh, the beagle across the way. Nah man, that wasn't him. You'll know when he hollers it's annoying as hell. Maybe it was a werewolf." Annie's eyes grew big, a grin spreading across her face.

Another knock at the door. Annie and Mandy rolled their eyes at each other. Annie hit pause, they both answered the door.

It was the downstairs neighbor. Beer stained halitosis perfumed the air with each word, "Look sweetheart; I don't care that you have your girlfriend over, just keep it down." The large, bald man, stood holding himself up by the door frame. Annie held her arm out as Mandy went to step past her. Mandy was always like that, overly bold when her friends were targeted, it becomes annoying, troublesome but sweet to most.

"Kay" Annie responded in a sing-song response as she closed the door in his face. Mandy looked at Annie in concern. "He has only ever caused a problem once, I'm not worried about it, maybe he had a hard day. I'm not getting into a fight with a sad old man and neither are you Mandy. Fuck that! Killer clowns, Let's go!" Annie looped Mandy's arm and dragged her back to the couch.

Mandy still looking concerned, "you want me to burn his house down?"

"Also my house, but thank you", Annie patted the top of Mandy's head.

They had both fallen asleep in front of the TV, beer cans and bowls dotting the end tables.

A solid bark rang across the development waking Mandy. She looked over at Annie still fast asleep. A pain of impending hangover poked the back of Mandy's brain. Standing in the kitchen Mandy pounded water. The neighbor's dog was fast asleep in his little hut. Mandy stared out the window trying to figure out if she was still drunk when a figure walked out from the darkness between the lot and the house across the yard.

As the figure stepped further into the courtyard, light danced down her long hair, illuminating her pajamas and barefeet. She slowly, calmly walked out to the middle of the yard. Mandy downed her glass still watching the woman.

She looked up, locking eyes with Mandy, though Mandy was sure she couldn't see through the dark windows. Still a shiver ran up her spine. The woman walked out of view towards the apartment below Annie's.

Mandy shuddered. Turning she came face to face with the woman that had just been outside. Mandy smelled sweat and summer damp on the woman. She took a step forward, Mandy attempted one back but bumped into the sink. Hair fell back away from the woman's face as she raised her gaze to Mandy's face.

Loose dark sockets packed with dirt met Mandy's eyes. Anxiety and fear dampened Mandy's forehead, spreading. She closed her eyes, shook her head, tried to convince herself, 'Not real, I've lost my fucking marbles drunk on the floor.' Mandy had always suffered from intensely real nightmares, it could be nothing more than that she reminded herself.

She opened her eyes as the woman advanced on her. "Watch" she whispered leaning to Mandy's ear. Mandy opened her mouth to scream but it was the sound of Annie's yelp that sounded.

Mandy darted her gaze past the woman to the living room doorway. Mandy returned her gaze forward and the woman was gone. No longer than an instant, no more than a few microseconds and all appeared normal. Mandy walked into the living room sweating, catching her breath. Annie lay half asleep sipping a protein drink.

Mandy put on cartoons and slowly fell back asleep. Annie woke to sirens ringing outside. She shot a gaze over to Mandy who was still softly snoring. She shoved on her boots and went out on the front step. Beneath her she could see EMTs wheeling out her neighbor. It was the man who had come to the door last night. He looked burned and wrinkled in places. He fought against the restraints on the gurney yelling that he couldn't leave his wife. He yelled for the others to help.

The police locked eyes with Annie standing on the stoop above. She panicked but didn't move. It does not pay to be nosey, Annie knew it but panic had made her jump at the sound of close sirens. She tried to ignore their gaze and look concerned for her neighbor being packed up.

The policemen began to take the stairs up to the second floor of the apartments. Without moving her feet Annie tossed a pillow at Mandy, waking her.

Mandy saw her friend standing outside, hearing the sirens she ran to the sink, downed some mouthwash, barely swishing it before swallowing and nearly knocked Annie over as she met her at the door.

The cops eyed her suspiciously along with Annie. It must have been the air of alcohol that curbed their suspicions. When they greeted one another good morning, even Mandy cringed at the smell of beer and mint.

"Which one of you live here?"

Annie raised a tentative hand "I do."

"Do you know the neighbor below you?" Annie shook her head. "Not at all?" The cop's voice rose in volume with his eyebrow.

Annie stammered at first, "Well I had talked to him in passing a few times, small stuff you know. And he stopped by lastnight to ask us to turn down the TV, he looked like he was drinking. But that's really it."

Both policeman dragged their sceptical gaze up and down Mandy and Annie.

"Hmm last night? He ever mention a wife, during these small talks?" Annie shook her head but turned to Mandy. It wasn't a passing of the question, it was a look of desperation. Punk rock as Annie was, the threat of police violence outweighed in the situation.

Mandy looked at both men and shook her head. When they turned their attention back to Annie. Mandy places her hand at Annie's back as she spoke "Last Night he did seem really drunk though, and all the times I've been here, I have never seen a woman in the apartment. "

The cops exchanged glances. They dismissed both women and went back down to the street. Neither Mandy or Annie moved a muscle till the lot cleared.

Both dropped heavy on the couch. Mandy patted Annie on the shoulder "Hey, fuck the police?"

Annie smile returned "Yeah, fuck the police! Now let's sleep till noon." Mandy knodded adamantly, and winced. They both took piles of blankets from the floor and curled up, sharing the futon.

#horror stories #short story #writers on tumblr #writing #halloween #horror #story in progress #spooky stories #spooky #nightmare time #characters of colour #blm art #true crime #ghostcore #gore #arsonist

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mrvdocks · 4 years

Text

Plus One

It’s Joyce and Hopper’s wedding. A new member is added to the household, and things get real.

(chapter one)(two)

It’s a Wednesday in February when he returns home and plops down onto the couch. The bar shifts just seemed to get worse. In the span of three minutes, he had to break up a fight, have the bouncer kick out a guy for harassing his manager, and clean a spill a drunk party group had made.

I’m not paid nearly enough for this, he thinks.

A sneeze breaks him from his misery.

“Bless you.” He says with his eyes closed. They shoot open when he realizes you don’t sneeze like that.

He sits up and looks at the moving thing under the pillow. His heart races as he hears some kind of breathing.

Please no, he thinks. We just took care of the plumbing.

He lifts the pillow carefully, expecting to see a pile of rats or mice or worse. Instead, he’s greeted by a sneezing dog.

It’s a Scottish Terrier with big eyes that just seem to interrogate him as to why he interrupted his sneezefest.

“Uhhhhh, where’d you come from?” He scans the apartment, seeing a dog bed at the corner of the lazy boy across from him.

This had to be the work of one person only.

Steve calls out for you, hearing you run out from the bathroom in a hurry and a towel haphazardly wrapped around you.

“What’s the emergency? Oh, I see you’ve met Mickey.”

He’s speechless, looking at you like you’re out of your mind. “Mickey?”

“Yeah, they brought him in today and I felt really bad that they were taking him to the choky tomorrow. I had to save this poor baby. And who can say no to his little eyes?” You singsong the latter half of that sentence in a baby voice, kneeling to ruffle your fingers through Mickey’s fur.

“What if Tony finds out we have a dog? What do we say? We can’t keep him.”

You roll your eyes. “Relax, he’s quiet when he eats the jerky from Tom’s.”

“That’s my jerky!” Steve whines.

“Okay! I’ll get you extra then. Don’t be such a sourpuss.”

Steve glances back to Mickey still staring at him. He puts out a cautious hand, Mickey getting close enough to sniff and then lick.

At least it was nice to have another man in the house.

He runs his hands through Mickey’s surprisingly soft coat, earning a low whimper from the pooch. Mickey lies on his side, clearly loving the scratches Steve is giving him. Steve catches himself smiling, suddenly forgetting the looming threat of eviction for a moment.

He’s wanted a dog since he was six, but his dad would never let him keep one. Not even a goldfish. He thinks maybe if he’d had a dog, he wouldn’t have turned out so cold in his teens. He just wanted to love something and have it love him back.

“Hmm, maybe you’re not so bad.”

Mickey responds by kicking his tiny paws in the air, writhing on the couch.

Steve is so bewitched by the creature he doesn’t even notice when you come back into the room or even left for that matter.

“So, anything from that Sissy girl you were seeing?”

“No,” he pouts, “I mean I think she was scared off by this.” He gestures to himself.

“Oh my god, you’re doing it again.”

“Doing what? I just felt like there wasn’t any long term potential there.”

“You guys went on one date, and you didn’t even kiss! You blue balled her!”

“Okay first of all, who takes their date to their family member’s birthday party and expects a whole relationship to blossom from there? And second, when you’ve been single as long as I have, you just know what you want and what to expect.”

You snicker. “But you don’t know what you want, you have like, the worst standards.”

“Uh, I like to think they’re realistic.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t think it’s fair everyone has to compare to Phoebe Cates.”

“Phoebe was a great product of her time, thank you very much. And, I mean what about Tessa Grey?”

“Tessa Gr - my co-worker?”

Steve nods adamantly. “I would date her. You know if she wasn’t - engaged.”

“Alright we have to unpack that sometime but first why do you always say their names like some sort of serial killer?”

“Because,” he thinks, “they’re firsty-lastys. The same way I’m Steve….”

“Oh please don’t say it.” You cover Mickey’s ears.

“Steve “The Hair” Harrington!”

You groan in response, bringing Mickey to rest on your chest while you put your feet up on Steve’s lap.

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.” He mimics.

“Oh, please. Okay, okay, let’s say for the sake of this being hypothetical, Tessa breaks off her engagement and she shows up here and says, ‘Oh my god, Steve Harrington I would love to have your babies, let’s get married! You can meet my family and eat my famous pasta, wahhhh!’” You flail your hands around for effect, seeing the amusement in his face.

His face screws up, “Geez, am I dating Wario now?”

“That is exactly how she sounds! Plus, you would find something wrong with her and then you’d bail.”

“That is not true.”

“Oh but it is! It’s so true. In fact, anyone as grotesquely tall and hair-obsessed as you cannot be so picky.”

“I’m just trying to make sure I find the -”

“Don’t say it.”

“The one.”

You groan, shoving your face into Mickey’s chest.

“Oh yeah? I don’t see you bringing anyone home. Still not over Danny?”

Your mouth forms an O, you kick his thigh with the heel of your foot.

“For your information, I have been seeing someone.”

This piques his interest. “Who and is he an escaped convict?”

“Okay,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “I haven’t talked to him but he left his number at the desk so who knows?”

“Hmm, I may be wrong, but I don’t think that was meant for you. You are a receptionist after all.”

“We’ll just have to see, won’t we? But I just have some stuff to take care of beforehand.”

He nods.

“Personal…..maintenance.”

“Yup.”

“Gotta mow the lawn.” You emphasize.

“No yeah, I got you the first time. But come on, let’s be honest here. You’re stalling.”

“For what?”

“Jumping into the unknown. Danny was a huge part of your life so I get what it’s like to lose that connection.”

You laugh sarcastically. “Okay, grandpa are these your words of wisdom? I am totally over Danny. At this point, I can say screw Danny! I have all the time in the world to find someone else!“

You weren’t completely wrong. Danny had been with you since senior year of high school. You thought it would be like one of those fairy tales where the high school sweethearts end up living together in an amazing house surrounded by all these treasures and all that jazz. Nothing could tear you down.

And then junior year of college came and he slept with one of your college friends. You transferred soon after. It was your first relationship, and you just felt like a failure.

You don’t view California so great anymore, instead choosing to uproot yourself and finding the first place you could in New York for cheap.

It worked out fine, you think. It led you to Steve and Robin.

Even though you clowned him for it, you also wanted that special connection. Love that movies taught you but you’d learned the hard way they weren’t going to translate into real life the same way.

“Uh-huh. I mean there’s no shame in it, I was the same way with Nancy.”

“I wasn’t moping around and wallowing in self-pity like you, though.”

“C’mon what was that whole period of just ‘Danny!'” He mimics your voice crying and eating out of an invisible tub of ice cream.

You feign being offended, chucking the couch pillow to him as he catches it and smothers himself with it.

“Your dad’s crazy. Yes, he is.” You pout to Mickey.

Joyce & Jim’s Wedding

Chincoteague, Virginia

March 1-3rd

“I remember during ‘84, Chief Hopper had a special visitor waiting for him in his office to talk to him about the disappearance of her boy. At the time she was just the town’s nut, but I bet no one would guess the wild ride these two would go on to end up here.” The man who Steve tells you was one of Hopper’s officers back home, toasts.

It sat poorly with the guests, including a somewhat already even more pissed off looking Hopper. He seems to get the idea and ends his toast blessing the couple in their late forties.

Jonathan goes up next, greeting the crowd. He’s dressed impeccably, his hair somewhat slicked back and his ring very prominent when the light catches it.

“I would like to thank everyone who came out to help us celebrate. I’m very proud of my mom and at first, I was a little wary about her settling down with someone. Not because I was moody about it but because she’s done so well on her own taking care of me and my siblings. She’s always been both parents to me but Jim,” Jonathan raises his glass.

“I want to thank you for helping us years ago, for believing in us. For being patient with us and sticking with us through thick and thin. My mom lights up every day like a Christmas tree and I think that’s evidence enough for me to happily welcome you into the family. To my mom and Jim!”

“To Joyce and Jim!” The crowd toasts.

The wedding was held in a gazebo near the beach on the East Coast, with Joyce getting married in a white tea-length dress with lacing decorating her collar down to her arms and Jim in a grey suit decorated with one of Joyce’s favorite flowers in his pocket. They’d both changed for the reception, Joyce into a red sheath dress and Jim into a black dress shirt and pants and a blazer matching Joyce’s dress.

You were seated with Jonathan and Nancy and another pair of family friends, talking and catching up with the other nuptials. They both told you the craziest stories about Steve from high school to when they last saw him, all the while he sat mere inches from you and hid behind his hand when something particularly embarrassing came up.

You’d often erupt in fruity laughter, hearing about the time Steve got his Scoops Ahoy uniform stuck in the fridge or when he’d played Dungeons and Dragons for the first time only to lose every time.

“So, how long has this been going on?” Nancy queries, gesturing to you and Steve.

You glance at Steve, lost for words for a moment. “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, friends,” Steve adds right after you.

“I’ve been rooming with him for the past two years since Robin left.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she concedes. “I always hear you call him Honey over the phone sometimes.”

Your eyes widen. Curse your sarcastic nature.

“Oh no, god no,” You laugh nervously. “I just like to mess with him.”

You drown yourself out with the drink in front of you, leaving Steve to pick up the rest of the conversation.

“We got a dog.” Steve blurts out, trying to fill in for the painfully embarrassing silence.

Jonathan raises his brows, “Really?”

“Yeah, only instead of being the dad of the group back then, I’m a dog dad now.” He reveals.

Nancy and Jonathan laugh, almost as if to help ease both of you back into not being awkward.

“Hey, you guys heard Dustin’s getting married right?” Nancy pouts with her bottom lip drawn out. “He’s so old now.”

“Yeah, Steve loves the little guy.” You blurt. Steve glances at you.

“Last I heard he was starting up some fund for kids with CCD in California,” Jonathan alleges.

“Oh yeah,” Nancy remembers. “The Palm Springs wedding.”

The music begins playing for the guests and Nancy jumps, exclaiming that she loves this song and asks Jonathan to dance with her. They turn to you and Steve and urge you onto the dance floor, but you say you’ll be there in a second.

“What was that?” He whispers in a shrill tone.

“I panicked!”

“They probably think we’re idiots now.”

You cock your head down and glare at him. “These are your friends, Steve. They would never think that. It’s just been a while since you’ve all seen each other they probably understand.”

Steve bounces his leg in response. You put your hand on his thigh, stopping him.

“Look, we are gonna go out onto that dance floor and we are going to find you the best damn lover you’ll ever have.”

He nods rapidly, hooked onto your every word.

You lead him in when a couple leaves, guiding his hand to rest on your lower back and rest your left hand on the lapel of his suit. Your right-hand holds out for his, swaying until you can match the tempo of the music.

“Okay, what about violet in glasses?” You suggest, feeling him turn you to catch a glimpse.

“Too bookish.”

“What’s wrong with bookish?”

“I already have you, don’t I?”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, what about red with the pony?”

“Where?”

“Behind you, rotate.”

He rotates you to the left and makes a face. “Too mean.”

“What? She seems nice.”

“The red makes her seem aggressive.”

You sigh. “Okay, pink with the braid?”

He glances quickly to his right, “Yeah she’s cute.”

“I’ll go and spill my champagne on her and then you just swoop in and dry her off.”

“Is there any way you can do this without assaulting someone?”

“It’s not assault, I’m just very hands-on with this.”

“That sounds like it’s textbook definition.”

“When have you picked up a textbook? Nevermind, you want to try this or not? I haven’t failed you yet.”

He purses his lips, thinking back to the first wedding.

“Don’t. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

As the song ends you retreat to your table, grab your glass, and start sipping. Steve stays behind, watching you fake stumble and fall against the woman and drench her with the drink. She gasps as the cold beverage hits her, and Steve pulls out one of the fancy napkins from the table.

“Showtime.”

"You think she hates me now?” You say, drawing circles in the sand with your feet.

“You mean because a drunken guest dumped their drink on an expensive dress she was planning on returning?"

You stare at him, unamused.

"I appreciate the try. She just seemed….too hostile.”

“I get it, I mean a guy like you coming up to me and trying to pat my breasts down - I would want to leave too.” You chuckle to yourself.

Steve stands, smacking off the sand on his pants. He takes hold of your shoulders and leans you close to the waves as they crash against your ankle.

“Oh my god, Steve! You know I can’t swim.”

Steve is laughing like crazy, teasing you. He takes hold of your waist in a second, carrying you as far into the ocean as he can while you’re shrieking.

He twirls you as you grip his hands tight, digging your nails into his skin and still screaming to be put down.

“Be careful what you wish for.” He says into your ear and drops you on your ass. The overwhelming cold and seaweed cover your body as you try to stand only to be wiped out by a wave.

Steve is howling in hysterics, clapping like a seal.

“Oh my god, I’m gonna kill you!” You don’t sound too threatening, if anything your wet appearance was akin to that of a wet kitten just meowing in protest.

Steve runs and dodges you, moving in a zig-zag pattern as you try your best to chase him through the water.

“You’ll never catch me!” He fronts.

Anticipating him to move in a pattern, you wait till he moves to the left to start running to the right and knock him down against the sand with a hmph!

“Gotcha!” You exclaim, putting your hands on his chest and completely unaware of the position you’re in.

You’re straddling him, legs on both sides and your face is inches away from his trying to catch your breath. He smells like salt and champagne.

He’s frozen in place too, one of his hands firmly on your lower back.

Your eyes flicker from his to the rest of his face, focusing on the moles decorating his neck. He can smell your perfume still even through the saltwater. It inundates his senses, disorienting him momentarily. Your necklace dangles and touches his chin, taunting him.

This is the moment you’ve been looking for, the one that the movies oh so love to display over and over again. Something in you tells you to do it, to just lean down and see if he tastes like you do.

Instead, he pushes you to the side softly, catching his breath and patting your thigh. “I guess you got me.”

You nod, taking your dress by the ends of it to walk back onto dry land and leave him sitting there. You’d see him back at the hotel anyway.

@mochminnie, @wolfish-willow

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things imagine #joe keery x reader

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massivelycreepypineapple · 4 years

Text

He Loves His Gimp

Request: Gynac Jensen anon here. Couldn't stop reading your work again and again. I just love it❤️ Hence came to you requesting another story. (Sorry🥺) Can you write one Jensen x reader where they have a big fight, she storms off, but while going, falls down the stairs and bumps into a wall and somehow her hand gets into a cast along with concussion. Jensen gets worrried and doesn't leave her alone all the time. After 2 days, for next appointment reader panicks while receiving PRP injection. All the fluff between these days. After few days, when her leg is better, next doc's appointment for removal of cast. Reader gets freaked out again. (Well I did freak, I had a full blown panic attack, my husband had to physically restrain me XD) so Jensen supporting her while removal process. ( I know I mentioned hand, but I wanted to request for leg, Idk how did I do that) Again sorry, I have bombarded you with such a long request. But write only if you want and are comfortable. Thanks ❤️

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Fem!Reader

A/N: Hope you enjoy this!

Feedback is welcome!

Word Count: 3032

❅ ❅ ❅

It had barely been a week since Jensen got back from Vancouver and in one week everything had gone bad. There was something happening with the brewery and as a result tensions were high. This in turn caused the the married couple to snap at each other often. The last couple of days have been really bad as Jensen and Y/N kept fighting non stop. It was taking a toll on her and she didn’t know what to do to help him. Every time she tried, he would snap at her and it would result in a full blown argument. This time was no different.

“Damn Y/N! God it was so peaceful living alone back in Vancouver!” Yelled Jensen.

“Oh yeah?! Well maybe you should’ve just stayed back then!” Shouted Y/N as she stormed out of the master bedroom.

With tears blurring her vision and blind anger consuming her, Y/N failed to pay attention to where she was going, causing her to trip on the stairs and take a fall. On her way down, she hit her head against the wall and landed with a thud on the ground floor. Her right ankle was askew and pain shot through her like wildfire as she screamed. She barely noticed Jensen run down the stair and crouch down beside her worriedly asking her questions.

“Y/N! Oh god! What hurts, baby? Talk to me!” He asked frantically.

“My leg and my head.” She mumbled out, her head feeling a little dizzy.

Jensen went to hold her ankle to take a proper look at it, the action only made her yell out in pain more. “Shit I’m so sorry, honey! I think it’s broken.” He said.

He pulled out his phone dialling 911, “Hi I need an ambulance immediately! My wife fell down the stairs and I think she broke her ankle and might have a concussion.” He explained, giving them their address.

Y/N was close to falling asleep but was immediately woken up with insistent pats on her cheek.

“Hey, stay awake sweetie. You might have a concussion and falling asleep will make it worse.”

“Everything hurts, Jay.” She said doing her best to keep her eyes open. The tears streamed down her face quickly wiped away by Jensen.

“I know, baby. I know. The ambulance will be here in a bit.” He said not leaving her side.

“C-can I sit up?”

“Just stay still okay? You’re going to be fine.” Jensen said carding his fingers through her hair while he held her hand with his other one.

The paramedics finally arrived and Jensen rode with her to the hospital.

_______________

12 hours later they finally made it back home at 1:30 in the morning. The doctor insisted on keeping Y/N in the hospital that long to make sure her concussion cleared up. He put her leg in a cast and prescribed some pain killers along with strict orders for plenty of rest for the ankle to heal. Lucky for her it was a small fracture that should heal on its own within a few weeks if she didn’t stress it out too much. She was, however, asked to come back couple of days later for a PRP injection to accelerate the recovery.

Jensen carried her inside the house and placed her on the couch. He shut the main door and went into the kitchen to bring Y/N her medicines and some water. Y/N knew there was something bothering him. He had been quiet the entire time and barely looked at her. She was feeling more and more guilty especially after the fight they had this morning. Her thoughts were interrupted when Jensen offered her a glass of water along with the pill. She took it and returned the glass back to Jensen who took it back to the sink, still avoiding any eye contact.

He came back to her to carry her to their bedroom when she stopped him.

“Jay, wait.”

“What’s wrong? You okay?” He asked fearing that the doctors missed something.

“I’m fine, but you clearly are not. Talk to me Jay.” She asked worriedly.

“Y/N it’s 1:30 in the morning and you’re hurt and in pain, and I’m exhausted. Can we please not do this now?” He asked rubbing his face.

Y/N felt a pang of hurt go through her heart. She had really messed up with the fight. Jensen was right he would’ve been more at peace without her.

“Okay.” She whispered and allowed him to carry her up to their room.

_______________

That morning Y/N woke up late thanks to her medication that made her drowsy. The space next to her was empty and suddenly the events that occurred the previous day crashed on her all at once, breaking her heart. Her leg was throbbing and she was doing her best to keep the tears at bay as she sat up and placed her feet on the floor.

Jensen walked into the room with a tray of breakfast, “Where do you think you’re going?” He asked chiding her.

“I thought-“

“I was making you breakfast in bed, Y/N. Now get back in and relax, okay?”

She got back in bed and Jensen placed the tray on her lap and sat in front of her. “How are you feeling today?” He asked rubbing her knee.

“Leg hurts a little, but my head is much better.” She replied taking a bite.

“Good. Eat up so you can take your painkillers.” He smiled softly at her.

“Okay.” Y/N back smiled at him.

Once breakfast was over Jensen grabbed the tray and handed her the medicines. He then helped her into the shower so they could take a bath. He covered her cast with plastic to it wouldn’t get wet and placed a stool in the shower so Y/N could sit comfortably. He helped her strip her clothes and proceeded to do the same. Nothing was exchanged between them which was odd. There was this lingering tension and Y/N didn’t know how to break it. Her mind was racing thinking of ways to apologise, and just as he proceeded to scrub shampoo in her hair a tear slipped from her eye. Her sniffle didn’t go unnoticed by hm and he immediately crouched down in front of her.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He asked concern filling his eyes.

She shook her head sniffling some more.

“Then what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry” she whispered.

“What for?”

“I’m sorry I’m so overbearing. I’m sorry, Jay. I shouldn’t have pushed you with the brewery and now you want to go back to Vancouver to get away from me. And then I had to get hurt and you’re stuck here with me. I’m sorry it’s not so peaceful here.” Her outburst stunned him.

“Y/N…”

“I’m sorry!” She was clutching onto him as tears fell rapidly down her cheeks. Jensen hugged her tightly to him, uncaring of the shampoo in her hair.

“Baby, you listen to me. I don’t want to get away from you. I’ll never want that, Y/N. I’m sorry I said that. I was angry and tired with everything that was happening and I took it out on you when you were only trying to help. It’s my fault baby. Vancouver sucks without you there. And I’m even more glad I’m here when you’re hurt. I’d hate myself if I wasn’t here for you. I already hate myself caz you’re hurt because of me.”

“It’s not your fault, Jay. It was a freak accident.”

“Feels like it is. I caused this indirectly.” He whispered, closing his eyes tightly. “God, when I heard you scream and saw you at the bottom of the stairs, my heart nearly stopped.”

“No you didn’t. I wasn’t paying attention. But I’m okay, Jay. Nothing too bad happened.”

“Yeah. Thank god for that.”

Y/N kissed him softly. When she pulled away from him she giggled.

“What?” He asked amused.

She scooped the suds on his nose left by her on her finger and showed it to him. He chuckled at that and kissed her nose. “Let’s get cleaned up. We have a busy day today.”

“Oh?” Y/N asked amused.

“Yep! A whole day dedicated to R&R!” He grinned.

“Can we watch The Lord of the Rings again?” Y/N asked with puppy eyes that she learnt from Jared.

Jensen groaned at her, “Fine, the gimp gets the final say.” He said earning a whack.

_______________

The next couple of days went by in a blink and the dreaded day finally arrived. It was time for Y/N to take a PRP injection. With lots of coaxing and promise of mind blowing sex, Jensen finally got her into the car and drove her to the hospital.

They were waiting for their turn and Y/N was bouncing her uninjured leg in nervousness. Jensen placed a hand on her leg, stopping her. “Calm down, Y/N. It’s going to be fine.”

“I hate you.” She snapped at him. “They’re going to give some stupid shot and I’m going to kill you.”

“Hey! I’m not the one giving the shot!”

“You made me come here!”

“You’d do anything in return for sex and you know it. You’re insatiable.” He grinned at her wiggling his eyebrows.

“Shuttup, Ackles.”

“Y/N Ackles” the nurse called out.

“You know if I wasn’t married to you now, that name would mean nothing!” Y/N whispered yelled.

“Haha, hilarious.” He said rolling his eyes. “Come on, gimpy. Let’s get you cured.” He helped her into the wheelchair and the nurse rolled her into the room.

The doctor made her lie down on the bed and got her prepped.

“We’re going to first draw some blood from your arm and then we will be transferring that blood into your leg. It’s so the extra platelets can help the injury heal faster.” He explained, making Y/N shudder.

Jensen moved closer to Y/N and she gripped her hand tightly. The doctor left the room for a while allowing Y/N to panic freely.

“Jay, I don’t want to do this!” She said frantically. “It’s not just one, it’s two needles poking me!” She said looking mortified. Jensen chuckled at her, “It’s not funny, Jay! Quit laughing at me!” She glared.

“I’m sorry, baby but it is a little funny. Besides, Y/N, it’ll be over before you know it. I promise, sweetheart.” He tried comforting her.

“You’re a jerk, Jay and I want to leave. Take me home, please!” She cried getting up.

Jensen pushed her back down gently and was about to say something when the doctor came back in with the stuff. Y/N was trying not to go into a full blown panic. Needles freaked her out big time and this was one of the worst things she’d had to do.

The doctor took a cotton swap with anti septic and cleaned the area making her flinch. Her grip on Jensen tightened and he kissed her forehead. “Just look at me, baby. Think about something else. Like what do you want to do this weekend, hmm?”

“I don’t know!” She looked at him wide eyed. Trying to play along but it was getting increasingly harder.

Just as the needle pierced through her she shut her eyes tightly, holding her breath in. She felt Jensen caress her cheeks with his thumb as he cupped them. “Breathe baby. It’ll go away.” He whispered.

“Almost done, Y/N” The doctor said smiling sympathetically at her.

She felt him gently withdraw the needle and she let out a breathe of relief when it was done. But that didn’t last long. She remembered the hard part was yet to come. The damn doc had to stick the little bastard into her leg and it was going to be 10 times worse.

She felt Jensen squeeze her hand, “Don’t think about it. Just keep talking to me ok?”

“Let’s go visit Jared and Gen this weekend.” She said, giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” He smiled widely.

Y/N and Jensen kept chatting and she didn’t notice when the doctor was near her feet. The needled pierced her leg just above the cast and she whimpered in pain. “Son of bi-!” She exclaimed.

“There all done!” Grinned the doctor.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Said Jensen smirking at her.

“Wipe that look off your face or I’ll do it for you.” She glared at him.

The doctor chuckled at her, “Well you’re good to go, Y/N. You just need to come back a week from now and we can remove the cast.”

“Can’t wait. This thing is itchy as hell.” You said, thanking him.

“And it smells” mumbled Jensen to himself earning a glare from Y/N.

An hour later they were back home comfortably cuddled up on the sofa. Y/N was flipping through the channels trying to find something good. Jensen groaned beside her as she changed it once more.

“Just pick one!” He exclaimed throwing his head back.

“I’m trying! There’s nothing good on!”

“I’m booored, N/N!”

“Urgh fine! You pick then!” She said throwing the remote into his lap.

He settled on some silly rom com, making Y/N look pointedly at him. “Really? This one?”

He grinned at her and she squeaked when he shifted her in a blink of an eye. She was sitting on his lap with her leg carefully placed so it wouldn’t hurt.

“What are you doing, Jay?” She asked suspiciously.

“Snogging to silly rom coms like teenagers?” The grin not leaving his face.

Y/N giggled at him, “You’re such a boy!”

“You love it.”

“Nahh.” She said with a cheshire cat grin. But soon started laughing as Jensen tickled her.

“Jay! Stop please!”

“Nope!”

“I’ll make you smell my cast if you don’t!” She managed to gasp out between laughter.

“Yuck! Keep that thing away from me, woman! That stench is poison!” He exclaimed with wide eyes, immediately stopping the tickle attack.

Y/N laughed at his reaction and kissed him hard. They spent the rest of the day snogging to crap TV.

_______________

A week later Y/N was back in that dreadful hospital room. She got her foot x-rayed and cleared for the cast to come off and she couldn’t be happier. Jensen was sitting on the chair beside her reading the stuff on the wall. Y/N was fiddling with her phone when the doctor came in with the equipments to cut open her cast.

When Y/N noticed the equipment, she freaked out. “W-what’s that? I thought you had to cut the cast open!”

The doctor chuckled at her, “This is to cut the cast open. That thing is too thick for scissors. We need something stronger.”

“Oh no no. You keep that thing away from me, she said in shock. She moved backwards in bed.

“You won’t feel a thing, I promise.” Said the doctor looking at Jensen for support.

“Y/N come on. This is the last time you need to be here. So let’s get this over it, huh?” He said gripping your hand.

Y/N watched in fear as the doctor got everything set up. He turned on the electric cutter and got ready to cut open the cast. Y/N went into a full blown panic attack and began thrashing around.

Jensen was holding onto her. “Honey, you gotta breathe for me. Look at me, Y/N.”

“No! No please. I can’t keep doing this, Jay! I’m constantly in pain and now he’s going to cut my leg! I like my leg!”

“Baby! He’s not going to cut your leg!” Jensen talked over her. “Look at me, Y/N. Open those eyes and look at me.” He pleaded.

Y/N reluctantly opened her eyes and looked into her husband’s green ones. It calmed her down for a second.

“There’s my girl.” He whispered. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

“Y/N, it won’t even get any close to your leg.” The doctor explained. “It’s just vibrations that will break open the cast.”

Y/N still looked unconvinced and stared at the monstrosity in his hands. Jensen cupped her face between his palms and kissed her forehead. “Do you trust me, Y/N?”

“Yes.” She whispered teary eyed.

“Then do this honey. It’ll be over soon.”

“O-okay.” She said taking a deep breathe and letting the doctor get to work.

20 mins later the cast was off and the doctor was checking her ankle once more. He then decided to put it in a brace since it was still swollen quite a bit and was painful.

“It’s going to hurt for a while, but I think it’s strong enough for you to start physical therapy. Just keep icing it and soaking it in hot water to bring down the swelling.”

“Thank you.” Smiled Y/N. “And I’m sorry you had to witness my freak out.”

“Oh don’t worry about it. I’ve seen people react worse.” He chuckled and left the room after shaking hands with Jensen.

“I’m sorry I was so panicky, Jay.” Mumbled Y/N looking guilty.

Jensen let out a booming laugh, surprising her.

“Why are you laughing?” She asked, confused.

“Y-you thought he wanted to cut your leg off!” He laughed harder.

“Shuttup, Ackles! It was scary okay! I’ve never done this before.” She looked at him grumpily. But she wasn’t really mad.

“Aww my poor gimpy!” He said pinching both her cheeks, making her swat his hands away.

“I’m not a gimp anymore!” She fake glared at him.

“True. I’m going to miss my little gimp. I could do whatever I wanted to her. But now she can limp away so fast.” He grinned cheekily.

“Ha ha! You’re fucking Robin Williams!” She said rolling her eyes.

“Oh the hubris! You’re not Robbin Williams, honey” He said his grin getting wider.

“Just take me home, you dork.” She shook her head at him fighting off a smile.

❅ ❅ ❅

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