#* IF I WERE A RICH MAN ; ooc | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tbaluver · 3 months ago

Note

HIIIIII! first of all I wanna thank you for your service to the entirety of the LADS fandom omg😭🫶🫶🫶 local treasure for real. Uhhhh now for my request- If it’s alright with you, is it okie to write HCs for the boys if they were vampires? LMK IF IT ISN’T ALR W YOU😭😭😭 I’m sorry if it isn’t okie TT…..

The Love And DeepSpace Men As Vampires

warnings/ context: a lot of mention of blood, fluff and a lot of intimacy, maybe ooc

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader

a/n: hihi anonnie <3 !! omg you're so sweet your message literally made my day!! (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡ thank you for requesting and i hope you like this !! i might make a second part of this headcanon bc i honestly liked writing this au!!

any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier's swordsmanship reached new heights. His speed, strength, and reflexes were enhanced beyond human capabilities, allowing him to execute complex maneuvers with ease and precision. Over the centuries, he continued to practice and perfect his craft, adapting his techniques to the evolving eras and styles of combat. In the present day, Xavier is a highly respected Deepspace Hunter. He is known for his remarkable physical abilities and his combat skills, honed over centuries have proven invaluable in dangerous situations, especially involving violent Wanderers or high-risk scenario's.

You first met at the abandoned warehouse, where your mission brought you together. As you worked side by side, investigating cases and solving crimes, your professional partnership and friendship gradually deepened into a close, intimate relationship.

During a high stake mission, he was gravely injured, and you rushed to his side, eager to tend his wounds. Despite your urgent efforts, he gently pushed you away, his eyes filled with a mixture and resolve. He had been preparing for this moment for a long time, searching for the right words and the right timing. This man has even looked it up on the internet on how to tell you but found no help whatsoever. When he explained it all, it all made sense.

Your boyfriend who would sleep a lot during the day, you haven't seen your boyfriend eat much whenever you went on dates let alone cook. But usually when he cooks he would burn it. And a lot of his missions are usually at night.

He consistently turned down your offers to feed him. However, it became increasingly evident that his strength was waning. Over the past few weeks, his supply of blood bags had dwindled to almost nothing, leaving him visibly weakened and frail. One evening, as he struggled to maintain his composure, you could no longer just stand by and watch. You confronted him insisting that he accepts your offer despite his protests.

He preferred to bite you on the neck, from behind, pressing you close to his chest. He slipped his arm around your waist, his touch light and comforting. His breath, warm and steady, grazes the nape of your neck, causing you to shiver slightly with a mix of excitement and vulnerability.

He lowered his head, his fangs emerging with a practiced grace. The initial contact was tender, a gentle brush of his lips against your skin, followed by a delicate lick. His fangs, sharp yet controlled, made a brief precise puncture. The sting was momentary, quickly overshadowed by the soothing warmth that followed. The richness of your blood filled him with a profound sense of satisfaction. His grip on your waist tightened slightly, anchoring him as he savored the precious essence flowing between the them. When he pulls his fangs out, his tongue reacquaints itself with the flavor of your skin as his palm cradles the back of your head affectionately.

You've also become more accustomed to sleeping at the same time with him. You found out from him that vampires find comfort sleeping close to someone they trust and love.

His protective nature for you is also heightened. He's always vigilant about your safety and goes to great lengths to shield you from harm.

Zayne:

Zayne has adapted to his new existence. He carefully crafted a persona as a surgeon. As the world evolved, so did Zayne. He embraced modern advancements in medical technology and his practice is renowned for it's extraordinary success rates, often performing miracles that seemed beyond the reach of contemporary medicine.

Despite his vampire nature, he sticks to a strict ethical code. He uses his immortality to help those in need, driven by a belief that his eternal life should be used to alleviate suffering and advance medical knowledge. To the public, he is a genius who performs miracles, but no one knows the truth until you came along in his life.

I think he would also love arts. As a vampire that's been alive for centuries, he would love to talk to you about art, literature, or show you around the museums that interest him. His extended lifespans gives him the opportunity to witness and absorb various cultural movements over the centuries so he'd gladly talk to you about it all.

He was alive centuries ago so his manners and chivalry are always timeless with you. He holds the door open, pulls out chairs, and showers you with tradional gestures of affection.

Truth is, he is terrified of hurting you and will genuinely avoid you if it means to keep you safe. However, his bloodlust continues to get worst with his tender feelings towards you as you continue coming back for a patient checkup or anytime you two would be together. His mind racing with a jumble of anxious thoughts, 'What if you feared him after telling you?', 'What if he becomes addicted and sucks you dry?' The idea of losing you absolutely drove him mad.

When it came to eventually telling you, you weren't afraid of him, which made him relax. You both talked about your boundaries and your safety.

You wouldn't be able to tell from his stoic expression but he would actually be nervous. He usually drank blood from blood bags and poured into a cup. It was always bland, something to just fill his hunger. But when you offered your own, he was terrified of what your blood would to him.

When you finally convinced him, he would make sure you were okay as he pushed your hair out of the way. He preferred to bite you on the neck from the front, pressing you close to his chest. Your hand would clench around his shirt, tensing up due to the idea of it hurting.

He would be slow, gentle, and place soft kisses on your shoulder and neck as he runs his hands along your waist. As his nose brushed against your neck, he drew in your irresistible scent with a deep, lingering breath. He positions his fangs at your throat and pressed down.

You gasp at the sudden, sharp sting of pain, and he immediately begins to comfort you, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on your hip to ease the discomfort. Eventually, you would become relaxed in his embrace as you wait for him to finish feeding. His entire body would protest, but he'd resist the urge to pull away, relishing each drop of your blood with a palpable hunger. He'd worry he'd taken too much.

When he finally drew back he would lick the wound and press soft kisses on it. He saw how drained you looked, but your reassurance puts his fears to rest. Gently, he'd help you settle into a seat, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder before he went to fetch some snacks to help you regain your strength back.

After weeks of feeding, his hunger was finally full. He no longer needed to feed with any regularity; he could comfortably go a week or even a month without feeding. He doesn't drink from you unless it's absolutely necessary, sometimes to the point where he's so weak he couldn't even hold his pen anymore.

However if the time came again and you let him feed on you, he would have everything prepared. He'd have bandages and wraps nearby in case of any mishaps, along with snacks and drinks to help you recover afterward. The feeding would take place in your shared resting chamber, ensuring you could relax afterwards.

Rafayel:

As a vampire, Rafayel's artistic abilities were magnified to extraordinary levels. His senses became heightened, allowing him to perceive the subtlest nuances of color, texture, and lighting. His immortality provides him with endless time to refine his craft, and explore new techniques and styles that pushes the boundaries of traditional painting. His paintings are considered a masterpiece that capture interest of many people all over the world.

You met him at his house studio to investigate a painting. Eventually you're both attacked by a Wanderer in his home and defeat it. In the aftermath, he extends an offer to hire you as his bodyguard, recognizing the value of your talents. You accepted, and as your roles shifted from professional to personal, a deeper connection blossomed between you. It wasn't long before your relationship grew into something more intimate. Eventually he would confess that he was a vampire. At first, his mischievous demeanor made it hard to take his claim seriously.

Rafayel tries so hard to hold himself back whenever he's near you. He would go to any lengths, even staking himself, to ensure he would never cause you harm. He struggles to keep his bloodlust at bay, especially when your scent is so intoxicating. Each time you wear something that exposes your neck, wrists, or ankles, his throat becomes unbearably dry. To mask his struggle, he distracts himself with conversation and avoids eye contact, desperately trying to remain composed. When you're near, he can barely focus on anything but the overwhelming urge to taste your blood, a constant battle between his desires and his determination to keep you safe.

Whenever he shows affection, whether it's a hug or a kiss, he holds you just a bit too tightly, his breath trembling against your neck, making you shiver. Though he's always tender with you, in these moments you can sense the raw edge of his desire, barely contained beneath his gentle exterior. It's a thrilling reminder of the thin line he walks between his love for you and his almost overpowering urge to taste your blood. And at times like this, you truly wonder if your boyfriend was telling you the truth.

However, your skepticism grew when you witnessed his pallor and weakness, the result of without proper nourishment. He explained that blood donors he relied on were bland and left a lingering, unpleasant aftertaste so he had neglected his feeding.

Out of your generosity you would ask him to drink you blood and obviously he'll be shocked and refused. But you know him to well and it takes barely any persuading to let him feed on you.

He prefers to bite your wrist, finding it the most practical and less intrusive spot for feeding. He insists that you sit beside him during the process, believing it to be the safest arrangement. This way if he ever loses control or if you start to feel faint or unwell you can easily pull away and protect yourself from any unintended harm. His primary concern is your safety, and he values this precautionary measure to ensure that your well-being is always safeguarded.

He would lean in, his breath warm against your skin, and with the gentlest pressure, his fangs would pierce the surface of your wrist. A brief, tingling sting that quickly faded into a soothing warmth. He fed slowly savoring the rich, warm taste, each tip tender and measured. His hold on your wrist would be firm but careful, ensuring that you felt secure and not overwhelmed.

As he drank, he would look up a couple times, his gaze fixed on you, watching for any signs of discomfort. When he finally finished, he eased his fangs from your skin and gently licked the small punctures, soothing them with a tender touch. He placed soft kisses over the marks.

Even as a vampire, he'll still mess around with you. He occasionally teases you by extending his fangs just enough to graze your skin. He would let his teeth lightly brush against your arm, just enough to startle you without breaking the surface layer. His laughter rings our softly as you squirm or swat at him, your playful annoyance would be evident. He does this with kisses too. Sometimes you'll feel a sharp fang gently biting your tongue and you'll pull away to flick his forehead for being mischievous

Although he can't see himself in the mirror you would always remind him he's always so handsome. You may not be the artist like he is but you'll try to draw him sometimes and even though it might not be perfect or he might make fun of you, he appreciates the gesture.

Sylus:

You first met Sylus when an unknown man fires a bullet at you, but Sylus stops the bullet mid-air and disintegrates the man. Despite your minor injuries, with blood seeping from the wounds, your scent was overwhelmingly intoxicating to him. Sylus had been quietly monitoring you, with Mephisto discreetly shadowing your every move. The raw, alluring aroma of your blood ignited a fierce, almost uncontrollable craving within him. Yet, he fought to maintain his composure, striving to resonate with while concealing the fierce hunger that roared within him. Although not a lot of talking has happened when you passed out.

You woke up to find out you've been staying at his home for three days. He's tried to force you to resonate with him after you woke up only to find out the reason why it didn't work was because you were subconsciously rejecting him, scared of him, or disgusted by him. Eventually you agreed to work with him, on the terms of helping you out with your investigation to make you not so disgusted by him.

As you both diligently worked together in the N109 Zone, trust between you gradually deepened. Through countless shared experiences and mutual reliance, you discovered more about each other, and your relationship evolved from professional to deeply personal. Eventually, Sylus reveals to you that he was a vampire. Which was not surprising to you at all. Pale Skin and crimson red eyes? That's def a vampire. The information did not change your relationship but rather you've become more curious.

You found out he usually gets blood from blood bags from the hospital because he has no time to hunt. He hates having to feed on the blood bags as they were too bland and unsatisfying. To compensate, he sometimes indulges in red wine, using it as a substitute to mimic the richness he craves. so sometimes he'll drink a lot of red wine as a filler for blood.

Dates with him are also super thoughtful just like how he would give you gifts. He'll gift you with more antique or vintage things from his past that remind him of you. He loves taking you out on moonlit dates or walks under the stars. He obviously cannot be in the sun but he also hates the sun so this was perfect for him.

He also has a ton of secret hideaways in the world. He created many for anytime you both want to travel so these hidden spots offer a blend of comfort and safety for the two of you.

Out of your kindness and curiosity, you offer him your own blood, hoping it might provide a more fulfilling experience. He would be hesitant about it, mainly worried that he might become addicted once he's consumed your blood. But with reassurance and the communication between you two you decided to try it out.

He preferred to bite you on your inner thigh. You would lay on the body, your body relaxed and supported by the plush of the pillows. Your legs would be slightly bent and spread, giving him easy access as he settled between you. He brushed his lips lightly against your inner thigh, his touch feather-light and soothing. His breath was warm against your skin as his one of his hands rested gently on your hips, offering reassurance and stability. His other hand would be intertwined with yours.

With a deliberate slowness, he allowed his fangs to emerge, their presence barely noticeable at first. As he leaned in, he places a soft kiss on the inner curve of your thigh, his fangs grazing lightly against your skin. The feeling of anticipation and tenderness, would make you tingle with both excitement and nervousness.

When he finally bit down, it was a controlled precision. The initial sting was quick but fleeting, and quickly replaced by a soothing, warm sensation as he began to feed. He couldn't help but groan at your taste. He kept his touch light, his hands continuously caressing your thigh to ensure you were secured and cared for. He'll occasionally look up, to see if you were showing any signs of discomfort.

Once he was done feeding, he would lick the wound clean and caress your thigh as he would praise you. "You taste so good for me sweetie." The gesture you have given him has open a new chapter in your complex relationship.

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rene-spade · 7 months ago

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miss louisiana i | c. leclerc, a. saint mleux | chase landry

poly! | fem! reader x obsessive! exes! charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux (+chase landry and f1 grid)

synopsis. your obsessive exes refuse to accept your new relationship with a man completely different from them. maybe they should move to louisiana? jk!. . . unless?

note. ok so reader is from louisiana and has cajun roots for context. chase landry is from swamp people 😭✌️ I loved that show when I was younger & I rewatched some recently and it reignited my crush on him sorry

WARNING(s); obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic/creepy exes (I make is as fluffy as I can tho trust), ooc Alex and Charles being a rich and out of touch, a spec of classism, stalking oops, (everyone Loves you)

miss.y/n📍belle river, la

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, jacoblandry, carlossainz55, and 1,006,349 others

miss.y/n back where I belong ☀️🌷🐊🐝🐍🌿🐠

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mariene.y/l/n be safe in the water my baby 🤗

miss.y/n yes maman 🤞😊 you know I’m protected

user oop who’s protecting you miss ma’am

user omgggg how did Charles n Alex fumble so baddd 😩😩🙏 I’ve needed y/n’s cajun french baddie ass since DAY ONE 🗣️

charles_leclerc so beautiful mon ange 😍 but that water is dark and might be dangerous. ta maman a raison!

see translation | your mom is right

user stopp didn’t y/n break things off with them???

user2 currently losing it my fav throuple might be back 💪🗣️

carlossainz55 hope you’re doing well mi dulce ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux yeah no this isn’t happening

user carlos sweetie delete this comment while you still have hands <3

user SHE’S BACK IN LOUISIANA RAHH

user2 how did I not know she was from the middle of nowhere 😭 what is pierre part??

user3 how didn’t you know!!! her dad literally used to hunt alligator before he died and her mom remarried and moved back to France . Her dad was cajun

user this might be a reach but y’all think she knows anybody from swamp people? Love that show 🤣🤣

liked by miss.y/n

♤ ♤ ♤

Alex’s leg bounced up and down nervously as her call went to voicemail for the 7th time in a row. She’d been calling your phone nonstop since hearing the news, anxious to know if it was true or not. It was always something that ate at her; her and Charles’ inability to relate to your childhood in Louisiana. They’d grown up among a higher class than you and in foreign countries. You would just giggle and wave off her concerns, insisting that even though they couldn’t understand your upbringing, that at least you could understand theirs.

“No answer.” She muttered, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. It was a habit she’d had as a child, one that you disapproved of and had trained out of her before you left them.

“She left us for a swamp man.” Charles pathetically finished Alex’s thought as they sat in his car, waiting to meet some other drivers and wags at the high-end restaurant Carlos chose.

“Don’t say it like that!” Alexandra turned her body towards the passenger window, “She didn’t leave us— not in that way! I told you she was homesick!”

Your father was a Cajun man who definitely took his culture to heart, doing a lot of hunting and fishing before he passed away suddenly when you were 12. Your mother was from France originally, and she remarried a rich Frenchman who’d ended up funding your modeling career after your success in pageantry. You moved straight to France at age 14 and found yourself in a completely different culture from how you grew up. You’d visited France before during summers with your mother, but it wasn’t home to you like Louisiana. You’d met Alexandra when the two of you were 19, and instantly bonded. Despite only really meeting briefly, it was love at first sight on Alex’s part and she supported you all the way to when you won Miss Universe after starting out Miss Louisiana.

When Charles had come along and had the same feelings that she did for you, it felt perfect, like everything had finally come together.

“With us is her home.” Charles replied, sucking his teeth.

“I can’t even—” Alex didn’t have to finish, the two had the same thought. They can’t even fathom the idea that you were with someone else.

Daniel was practically cackling in joy while Carlos at least tried to hide his amusement by covering his face. It was no secret that most of the f1 grid was praying for you to leave Charles/Alex so they could get a chance— but this wasn’t what they were expecting.

Bickering around the table ensued, only a few seconds before Alex was rolling her eyes with a groan and putting her face in her hands, “He doesn’t have any recent social media so I can’t even stalk him.”

“So we will just go there!”

“And what? Become swamp people?” Daniel was laughing so hard he was tearing up.

“Cha, that’s so ridiculous.” Alex mumbled.

“It is—!” Kika agreed suspiciously fast, “I just mean the split was recent, so maybe me and Pierre should visit her before you guys?” It’d only been a few months, but that had been enough to drive Charles and Alex a bit off the rails.

They’d only ever been apart from you for just over two days in the last year, up until you ghosted them. Well— it wasn’t technically ghosting when you left a note; a very brief letter in your familiar handwriting that told them you needed some space. They didn’t take it as a break up, although they did panic. Their numbers weren’t blocked, so they naturally took that as a good sign. This was probably because you wanted their attention since all their calls and messages were going through. The finality of it didn’t hit until it reached two weeks of no-contact from you and their photos were removed from your Instagram. The public noticed and so did the rest of the grid despite Alex and Charles’ now 3-month-long denial stage.

“le lieu s'appelle Pierre Part, yeah?” Pierre grinned and Charles sneered at him. (the place is called pierre part)

“They might have a point,” Daniel winced with a wide grin, “I think you’ll just look crazy if you show up. At least, one of us would just look like a friend who misses her, ya know?”

“None of you are visiting our girlfriend!” Alex frowned.

“Ex,” Carlos gently corrected into his fist with a cough before straightening up, “She jus’ is homesick maybe so give her some space and she will come back in no time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Alex slumped with her chin in her hand, “cet endroit est sa maison.” (that place is her home)

“You’ve never heard ‘if you love something, let it go’? If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.” Daniel tried to reassure, but his face was almost a wince.

“We just wanted her close to us is all! We travel so much, we didn’t mean to take her away from her home—”

But Daniel gave them a look, knowing about their behavior with you. As in love with you as they are, Alex and Charles are intense about it. Endearing on one hand for awhile, but then the jealousy got worse and they were pretty delusional about their tendencies. He could understand it honestly— you were lovely. He imagined he’d be in the same state as Alex and Charles if you were his and you left him. Which is why he cut them so much slack, the rest of the table too.

“I don’t understand why she ran away like that!” Charles finished with a huff, running his fingers through his hair. He was starting to sweat. This felt like a cruel joke on your part— a mean way to get their attention.

“His ears are a little big.” Alex whispered, staring into her phone with a pout.

“et cela! regarde nos oreilles!” (and that! look at our ears!)

Pierre lost it at that; Charles pulling at his ears to make a point, “Maybe he’s just a nice guy, man!”

“We are nice!”

“Let me see.” Carlos walked around the table to see Alex’s phone.

She’d googled the name of your alleged new boyfriend— Chase Landry. He had starred on some Southern US reality show ‘Swamp People’; it mainly surrounded cajun alligator hunters in Louisiana. They had known you liked the show, but had never seen it themselves.

“Eh,” Carlos shrugged, “his ears aren’t that big. He is a little old for her though, no? 34?”

“Exactly! He is a pervert! I’m calling her again, actually.”

♤ ♤ ♤

miss.y/n 📍pierre part, la

liked by jacoblandry, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, and 1,014,108 others

miss.y/n me and my dirty swamp man foreva 🤞💛🌷🦆

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user STOPPP SHE SAID THAT’S MY MAN N IMMA STICK BY HIMMMM

user2 stfu 😭✋ the fact that this man most likely has no idea that this is going on

user3 his brother liking her posts and filling him in

miss.y/n jokes on y’all Jacob doesn’t know what’s going on either

bellahadid beautiful lily faery and her dirty swamp bf <3

miss.y/n <3 literally

user BELLA⁉️

arthur_leclerc beautiful view of the water, ma sœur!

see translation | my sister

user THEY SENT Y/NS FAVORITE LECLERC BROTHER IN TO PLAY DAMAGE CONTROL

user2 not “my sister” 😭😭😭 leclercs let her go challenge

user y/n’s harem coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 😭😂🤣

this is part 1 of perhaps 3. I plan on making part 2 much longer and more writing than social media like this one, just for some balanceee

taglist; @alliwantisadonut @splaterparty0-0 @charizznorizz

Ren

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #dark! f1 #f1 grid x reader #obsessive f1 #charles leclerc x reader #poly f1 #f1 oc #obsessive charles leclerc #ex! charles leclerc #Charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz x reader #alex saint mleux x reader #alexandra saint mleux #f1 reverse harem #swamp people x reader #chase landry x reader

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jinkiezzsstuff · 8 months ago

Text

Met The Devil

lucifer x human!reader

based on folklore about the devil, cause i thought that would be cool teehee

Part [2]

Warnings: SMUT 18+, implied fem reader (clit use), based on devil folklore so possibly ooc lucifer, so sorry but lucifer our boy ain’t that caught up on lilith here, penetrative sex, didn’t proof read so lmk if you see any mistakes, no mention of hairtype/bodytype/skin colour, swearing,

Word count: 4K

Your shoes clacked against the concrete, water from puddles splashing out from underneath your feet. The rain poured down vigorously, and unforgivingly. Your hair ruined, your clothes soaked and your mood sour. It’s been a trying day starting off with a failed job interview and ending with bending over backwards for people who didn’t deserve it.

It wasn’t even like you couldn’t handle a problem, or a hurdle, but it seemed like every path you took led to a dead end. You were tired, broke, and felt drained, you would kill for just a break from the failure.

Your pace slowed long ago, not really wanting to return into a room full of loud family members with critical opinions. You dragged your feet through puddles of water, feeling the cold rain soak through. The storm raged on clouds continuing to pelt down fat droplets, you inhaled the smell of wet grass, damp concrete and mud as you strolled.

The amber street lights above you were dim, and your eyes danced around the street lazily, observing everything and nothing. Just a few feet away from you was a bus stop, with a shelter and a bench, figuring it’d be better to not be drenched completely, you decided you’d have a seat maybe the rain will dissipate.

You dragged your feet focusing down at them as you walked into the shelter. As you turned into it, you bumped into someone jolting you backwards slightly. Reflexively your head shot up from your feet to see a man’s back, he quickly turned to you. You observed his clothing his head held a rather out there looking white hat, shoulders holding up a long white chesterfield coat along with white boots to match his monochromatic look.

Meeting his eyes you admired the unique colour; they looked light brown, but they were such a concentrated colour it could’ve been mistaken for an amber or perhaps orange. He was very pale, and poking out of his hat extremely blonde hair you briefly had the thought of perhaps he just lacked in melanin; he was albino, and so you moved past it. Standing fairly short even with his boots, he seemed like a wealthy man, and perhaps a model too, there’s no way he couldn’t be with such a catching appearance. The man gave you a wide grin, showing off his sparkling teeth, perfect as you expected. “Hi!” The strange man shouted, a rich booming voice coming out of him. You didn’t know what voice you expected to hear from him, but the slightly unsure, sultry one definitely wasn’t it.

Stepping back from him lending him some personal space back, you smiled nervously. “Hi, i’m sorry i thought- well i didn’t see anyone in here, sorry.” The man ‘pfft’ at you, eyes closed momentarily, head tilted back. “It’s not a problem at all! Eh, i was just stopping by!” Waving at you he stepped futher in the bus shelter, opening his arm to welcome you in excitedly.

You watched him intently as you walked inside, you felt curious about him as he had an aura you couldn’t quite place. When inside you stood parallel to him, watching as his posture slowly decompressed like he was glad you were here. You briefly wondered what he meant by stopping by it didn’t seem like the appropriate term to use in this scenario, but you argued with yourself that he could’ve been flustered.

Gazing down at his arm a cane had appeared- one that wasn’t there before, you had to do double take, assuring yourself that you were seeing things correctly. As you did so, he leaned ever so slightly on it putting more trust in the cane then he probably should have. “An apple?” You questioned observing the handle that he grasped with gloved hands. His eyebrow rose with a confused expression gracing his gorgeously sculpted face waiting for you to elaborate. “Your cane, sir.” You smiled nodding toward it, feeling a strange sense of adoration him and for the far away look in his eyes, one you recognized. “Cane? Oh, OH! My cane, ha! Yes uh, apples. They’re, uh gods gift after all.”

Realization flooded his face, smirk reappearing as he leaned forward just a bit, as he did so you felt a sudden sense of familiarity that was almost sickening. You’ve never felt such a pull before to a person like you did in this moment. “Would you like an apple? It’s cold out, you must be tired after such a long tedious day.” Watching him as he dug into his pocket pulling out a decently sized apple- perfectly red as well.

Tilting your head to the side questioningly you ask; “How did you know my day was tedious?” The question came out gently, quiet, void of any accusation or fear. Instead you felt calm gazing from his captivating eyes to the apple, hand stallled just a bit away from yourself reaching toward. “It’s so evident on your face, you poor thing. Here go ahead sweetheart.” His voice that was once insecure, unsure and bouncing in pitch, was now relaxed, smooth and hypnotizing.

There was no malice or condescension in what he said, but rather an observation of what you failed to hide in your current state. Nodding with a short shrug, you reach further, the man meeting you half way to place the fruit in your palm. Your hand briefly touched his own gloved one, they were warm as ever, and you’d wish you could’ve gotten more of a feel.

Smiling at him you suddenly noticed his lids were covered in a lavender purple, perhaps you noticed because they were lidded at you now, unlike before when they were wide. His smile was lazy as he watched you bite into his fruit. It was probably one of the more fresher apples you’d ever bitten into, and as you swallowed the first bite your stomach growled, literally demanding more.

The strange man in white chuckled at the sound of your stomach, and before you could let embarrassment consume you he spoke. “See! So glad I found you, wouldn’t want you starving now would we?” It seemed he had gone back to his boisterous mood as he watched you crunch happily down.

“Thank you so much sir, this is such a good apple, really, did you grow this in your garden?” You asked him, he came closer standing beside you, the two of you now facing the road, looking out at the rain. “Mm, not my garden…” The man muttered under his breath, you quirked a brow humming at him barely hearing what he said. His eyes widened and he quickly shook his head. “Heh! Oh nothing sweets! Don’t worry, i was just, uh, remembering some stuff. From. Like, the past.”

It was as if he’d lost his cool for a moment, stumbling over everything that came out of his mouth, his gaze fixed ahead at nothing. You admired the side of his face as you chewed the last bit of apple, his head slowly turned to you, eyes catching your own.

“You’re eyes are ethereal.” You breathe eyes squinted in focus as you drank him up. You didn’t fully mean to say what you said, it was something just burst out of you without restraint because you felt so strongly about the beauty they held.

Stuttering, he blushed finding it hard to gather the words under the heated look you were giving him. “Thank you, YN.” The man finally said easy going smile once again present on his face. Before you could say anything in return- including questioning how the hell he knew your name, he again reached in his pocket this time pulling out a single playing card the king of hearts. Furrowing your brows you accepted the card but didn’t understand why he gave it to you.

“Love a good game of cards, always have! I think we’ll see each other some day soon!” The man exclaimed smiling brightly at you, behind you, you could make out the sound of a bus coming up to your stop. You smiled and thankedthe man regardless of the oddities, he returned the gesture smiling toothily at you. He rested himself against his cane again watching you intently as you glanced behind you. The bus lights lit up your figure, and you supposed you’d get on for the rest of the ride home. Turning with a smile to say your farewells to the mystery man, your stomach dropped. The man had vanished, and you’d only looked away a second. Stepping out into the rain, you peered up and down the long streets, unable to see his white coat or hat in either direction.

Standing next to the curb the bus whined to a stop, the compressed air blowing out warmly at your legs. When the bus driver opened his doors, you stepped on tapping your finger against the safety glass. The conductor looked at you exhausted by the night and the people he handled.

“Sorry if this is strange, but did you see anyone in the bus shelter with me?” The diver looked at you and it was obvious to him he couldn’t care less, but you stayed put waiting the vocal confirmation. “No ma’am, but if i’m being honest i wasn’t paying attention.”

You nodded quickly eyes casted down, thanking him you put your toll in and walked your way down the isle. When in your seat, you pulled out the card once more to inspect it in the light. Your eyebrows lifted looking down at the card, written on the back where there was nothing before, now had beautiful calligraphic writing with an address on it.

Typing the address into your phone, it directed you to what looked to be a website where people posted looking for house sitters. Turning your mouth in a disgusted manor, you silently questioned why the hell this man would give you such a thing. Scrolling through the different enlistings, you boredly read through descriptions and pay killing time until your stop.

Just a few stops away from home, your thumb stopped on a house, it was a pretty decent home appeared to be some sort of log cabin. The pay they were willing to give was generous, and it was only for three days, oddly enough. Clicking on it, you read through the description, they asked not to bring pets, eat their food, or sleep in their bedrooms asking to bring something to sleep on.

It was a two hour commute by drive, but seeing as you didn’t drive, it was a four hour commute with the train. You sent the owner a quick message telling them that you needed the pay and you were willing to comply to all the rules no issues. After sending your message, you stood mirroring the robotic voice as it called the name of your stop.

—

“Hi welcome!” Marie greeted you with a handshake, smiling at her you shook back. Walking into the cabin alongside Marie she explained that she needed to pick her husband up from a business trip from the middle east, and her house was too high maintenance for her to leave behind. “Occasionally, the pipes will freeze if the temperature drops, you the heat will need to controlled carefully. There’s a garden outback i am very proud of, i’d really appreciate you checking on it daily, just to make sure no pesky animals intrude.”

Walking through the house, you notice different things hanging, but no family pictures. The house was filled with mahogany and oak woods, which were really gorgeous, the house was dark and lit by yellow lighting from different chandeliers and vintage looking collectors lamps.

“Oh! Also if you need we have a prayer room! Don’t touch anything in there as they’re very expensive. Besides that, you’re good. Alright i gotta run, this willl be a very tedious trip. Call me if you have any problems.” Nodded as she spoke, you walked along side her towards the front door. You smiled at her assuring that all would be well, and if there was any problems you wouldn’t hesitate to call.

—

Another rain storm moved into the area thunder shaking the cabin. You had a cot set up in the living room per Marie’s request, and your food was put away in the fridge. You had gotten into shorts and a t-shirt now that you didn’t have to worry about being presentable and settled in the cot with your phone and laptop.

You’d been in the house for ten hours now, and you weren’t able to relax, paranoia filled your mind as you felt off about being in a strangers home. The urge and need for money fueled you in the beginning, but now alone in the middle of the woods, in a cabin that isn’t your own with a thunderstorm overhead, yeah you were filled with anxiety.

Just as you felt a bit of tension release from your shoulders, three knocks sounded from the door making you jumped from the disruption of silence. Standing cautiously you walked to the fire place grabbing one of the pokes that sat off to the side, and went to the door. Peeping through the hole you were surprised to be greated by the man from the bus stop. He held the rim of his hat down over his his face that held a scowl of discomfort, slumped over and soaked.

Opening the door you stood the fire poke off to the side against the wall. Despite your apprehension and confusion, something in you felt compelled to open the doo. “What the hell?” You exclaim, watching him perk up at the sound of your voice, eyes naturally finding your own. “Oh you! Y’know i had a feeling you’d be here, uhh, mind helping me out. It’s freezing!”

Grabbing his bicep you tugged him in, him letting out waohs as he stumbled in letting you do as you pleased. Slamming the door behind you, you grabbed his shoulders gently looking into his eyes. “What the fuck are you doing all the way out here? God, you’re soaked.” You saying eyeing him, he was wearing the white outfit he had on nearly two months ago.

Walking to your suitcase you pulled out a towel, t-shirt and joggers for the man. Turning you walked back to the entry to see him already half naked, gasping you spun on your heel. “What the hell dude! Put this on!” You screamed tossing all the items behind your back.

The man laughed, it sounded charming and he seemed delighted at your shock. “Don’t worrrryyy, its no biggie. Look as long as you please.” Scoffing you turned seeing him with the joggers on, hat tossed to the side drying his hair. “You look very good tonight,“ The man trailed eyeing you up and down.

You felt hot at such a statement making you feel like a horn dog. You crossed your arms and gave him a grin. “Can I help you by the way, maybe call you a car? I’m uh, house sitting.” You explain walking up to him, he shook his head smiling coyly at you. “No no, thats, fine.” You went to question further but he had other ideas and brushed past you wandering into the house.

“I don’t even know your name!” You say speedily following him as he observed everything in the cabin he passed. He glanced back at you briefly before muttering; “Lucifer,” Quickly before you could get a word in edge wise he turned aburptly stopping, you bumping into him lightly. “And I only ask that you spare me a few hours, maybe a meal?”

So there you two sat, you had ate with the man, and now sat listening to the stories of a man who swore up and down his name was Lucifer. He explained his predicament while you ate, saying that he just took a wrong turn and drove into a ditch.

You laughed along he told you interesting and funny stories of his life and the people around him, telling you about his crafting hobby. Which captivated you the most, honestly you were mesmerized by the man, and he seemed to feel the same about you.

His eyes lidded and relaxed, his chin rested on his hand, leaning forward completely encapsulated by your presence. You never had a man so focused on you, he hung on every word, and you felt that framillar tinge once again, pulling you into him.

The magnet kept pulling you in, and you were ever so hungry for the man in front of you. “Yeah, my daughter uh, she’s like me with the ambition. I’m just afraid she’s gonna end up like me.” Lucifer said shrugging while looking off to the side. You wont deny you felt the slightest bit upset at the statement, daughter implies mother. “Even if she does fail the only thing can do is be there for her through the trip. It’s harder to fail alone, i think.”

Nodding in contemplation the blondes eyes came back to you, his hands came the the middle of the table causing your gaze to drop. His hands twisted, flicked and your focus was now on a gold circle spinning on the table. His wedding band.

“She’s been alone a long time, my wife, she left seven years ago, we’d been divorced since Charlie was a toddler, heh, kept hoping she’d return. I left Charlie alone too, kinda thought it was for the best. Not anymore. We work together.” He explained smiling at the mention of his daughter. Slapping his hand atop the ring ceasing its momentum he looked at you watching as you placed your hand ontop of his, gently caressing him as you did so.

The two of you stared at each other silently, for how long you weren’t sure. It wasn’t until he pulled himself to his feet sluggishly that the staring spell broke. The confidence returned to him, as did his mischievous smirk. You were under the assumption be was ready to go so you stood with him.

Just as you were about to speak, thanking him for the unique experience he granted you, he grabbed you by the arms and tugged you into him. You fell forward hands flying to his chest, meanwhile his head tilted and softly his lips met yours. You didn’t have time to question a thing before your lips danced in tandem with his. Perhaps you should’ve been less willing than you were but how could you not be? It was like a gift from god, this man.

You wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him to your chest, his hand moved from your arm to your hips grinding himself into you needily. You whimpered at the contact feeling how excited he already was, when you whimpered he took the chance to sneak his tongue into your mouth. As your own tongue slid past his you stuttered feeling how long he could reach, and moaned at the way he tried to swallow you whole so nastily.

Pulling back slightly, Lucifer paused as you felt the fork of his tongue. Shocked you pulled back fully looking at his lustful expression, it was almost as if his eyes were a darker shade.

“What’s wrong?” He asked hands slowly travelling from your hips up to the hem of your shirt, toying with it. “Your tongue?” At your inquisitive tone, he stuck his tongue out. “Thish?” He spoke through is tongue that stuck out to your, normal sized and unforked.

Smirking at him you shook your head gently you must’ve been nervous. Pulling him toward your make shift bed you two crashed down on it haphazardly, he leaned back on his elbows watching as you crawled on top of him meeting his lips eagerly. His hair was slightly disheveled, his breathing jagged under you.

You slid yourself up and down, gliding yourself purposely right on his hard on. Pulling away from the sloppy make out session you two were in, Lucifer looked at you with glassy eyes. “Let’s make deal,” He breathed panting to catch some of the breath you stole straight from him.

“What?” You whispered inches from his lips. “Let me have you, all of you and when the time comes you’ll be a queen, you’re just a diamond in the rough.” There was almost a saddness you could detect, maybe something you could describe as mournfully lonesome. You felt the tug; the pull to him you couldn’t deny, so you took his hand away from your hip, and shook it. “Deal.” You say mocking something that would be business offical.

With a sly grin, he pushed himself up to you, your lips crashing into his instantaneously. You bit his lip gently as he grinded himself into you enjoying how unashamed he was of showing his desire. You met his grinding with your own, dragging your hands down his warm chest. Lucifers breath stuttered at your touch, his nails sinking into your flesh with anticipation.

You stopped at the band of the joggers pulling away from the kiss. As you did Lucifers eyes were wide, pupils blown and he robotically lifted himself by his hips, awkwardly shuffling his joggers down. You lifted yourself so he could get them the rest of the way down before tossing your shirt to the side.

Grinding down on his uncovered cock you moaned head thrown back, he was all consuming and the air felt so hot after the deal. It was desperation that was evident on both your faces, Lucifer hypnotized by you as you greedily grinded against him. Lucifer whimpered laying back down flat on the cot trying to stop himself from violently bucking up.

“Tell me what you want Lucifer,” You purred lifting your hips from his boner rotating your hips round and round while just barely touching his dick beneath you. “Fuck please, get on me.” Lucifer gritted out teeth clenched, eyes closed sparkling at how tight he had them sealed.

Manurvering yourself you pulled down your shorts and urged him to sit up. Lazily he followed your pull sitting up straight toward you. You liked this position way more, face to face as your sunk yourself down on his cock. His legs jerked, spreading out falling off each side of the caught causing you to bottom out, slipping right down to his balls.

“Oh shit you’re an angel, fuck, you feel so good, oh,” Lucifer whimpered voice wavering, although he smiled through the pleasure. Unwillingly he fucked up into you, your body unmoving jerked up with his hips, you were too busy getting used to him girth and size not to mention his all consuming presence. He was so hot, smug, and it made you feel hornier than you already are.

Sliding your hips forward you whimper and moaned. Face in your neck he breathed you in, whimpering as he continued to fuck up into every now and again, still trying to hold back for you. You wrapped your legs around his back clenching on unable to speak as Lucifer had your brain wiped of all thought.

Lucifer bit down holding back a groan, effectively drawing blood from the wound, licking it right up after. Suddenly like a madman, he gripped you like a life line, gently but swiftly flipping you over onto your back. He looked down at you with red eyes stunning you into silence. “Lucifer?” You whispered breathlessly as he smiled down at your form, his tongue darting, out forked once again, and dragged his devilish tongue against his no longer normal teeth.

Without responding he sunk himself into you, your legs on their own accord flew up around Lucifer as he slowly plunged himself into you. You cried out in pleasure as he picked up the pace slamming his hips into you, skin slapping filled the room as well as Lucifers gravel groans and growls.

Your eyes were closed as you reached up to him, your body jerked at his thrusts the cot creaking. You pulled him toward you, he made no effort to pull away from your tugging. His lips met yours pulling you into a hot kiss, you met him with need, teeth clashing and tongues twisting. You being to fucked out in bliss to realize the razor sharp teeth that nicked your lips and tongue, or the snake like tongue that explored your mouth.

You moaned at the sensations you felt all around you, your heightened senses picking up the cold snake like skin that whipped by your calf. Opening your eyes you clenched coming face to face with Lucifer, the devil, the literal devil.

Long red horns stuck out from his pale skin, red eyes lidded and glowing down at you, sharp teeth evident by his smirked. His pace never slowed as he watched you stare at him, and his pride swelled at the fleeing of you clenching him tightly, legs simultaneously pulling him in closer.

“Like what you see angel?” You mewled at his words grabbing his shoulders as he looked down at you eyes full of desire and pride. “Yes,” You gasped as he hit a pretty little spot inside you that made you sing to him.

“Please Lucifer!” A rumble sounded in his chest a noise you couldn’t describe. Attempting to stabilize your jerking body, your hands moved to grip his back but paused at the feeling of feathers. Lazily your mouth fell open, body jerking as your head tilted to the side getting a better look at the red and white wings that cascaded far across the room.

“O-oh, my god, fuuuck.” You moaned trying to make sense of the display in front of you but Lucifer pressed his finger down on your clit making you loose control of your mind once more, bucking up to him, begging him.

You pleaded to Lucifer like a chant to him, looking into his red glowing eyes. His smile was gone his eyes lidded eyebrows pinched as he fought off the urge to cum just a little longer.

With a shout your body shook tensing, toes curling, Lucifer muttered your name over and over worshipping your name as you did to him. His hips halted deep within you and he bit down on your neck leaving several different bite marks.

Pulling away he stared down at your sweaty body his demonic form shrinking away, his eyes going yellow with his natural red irises. You stared shocked at him, but he only coyly smiled at you. “How was your date with the devil?” He smiled brushing his hand down your cheek.

“You’re really the devil?” You asked in disbelief and astonishment. “Well y’know,” He coughed looking away, pulling away from you effectively pulling out of you. “Yeah that’s what they call me.” Another charming smile graced his face.

Your lurched upward eyes wide. “I made a deal with the devil?!” You exclaimed not feeling the way you expected if you were to meet the devil. Y’know fear.

“Yep, and, you promised yourself to me,” Popping his ‘p’ as well as accentuating the ‘and’, he tossed the ring at you. Swiftly you caught it, and by the time you looked down at it, and then back up to him, he was redressed in his suit, coat and hat.

“Speaking of which, I’ve got a kingdom to run.” Thunder rumbled shaking the cabin making the lights flicker out ominously, and in that brief moment, the devil himself, disappeared. Leaving you alone, with his ring, naked in the cabin.

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keresnotceres · 1 year ago

Text

Good, Good, Great

Ghost x Fem!Reader (And they were roommates)!

[nsfw] cw(s): Jealousy, alcohol consumption, references to smoking, strip club, rdr calls ghost ‘big boy’ several times, suggestive content, non-explicit sex (it’s mentioned), rdr is highkey a brat lol, mention of dumbification.

PART TWO

3.4k words I don’t understand how UK currency works so i guessed, ALSO! Reader is kind of a slut!! Because we don’t get enough readers that have BEEN AROUND TOWN (iykwim) and I am hellbent on fixing that :) ALSO ALSO this kinda sucks and it’s prolly OOC but I spent like four days on it so here u go <33

You’re not dating — but he’s not keen on sharing. He sees you serving another table drinks, scantily dressed, hips swaying with every step, and can’t help but watch with a glare as some other man sets a 20 between your tits.

How Laswell convinced both herself and Price that a strip club was the best place to meet and discuss information on a new mission was beyond Ghost. It wasn’t until two blocks away from the venue did he begin to recognize the surroundings, the streets, and damn it, even the people.

He forwent the skull mask and the skull-patterned balaclava for a plain black surgical mask that left him feeling bare and exposed. Only a thin piece of fabric was between him and his anonymity; two strings that held together the Ghost façade from falling into Simon.

He’d be damned if he told the others that he recognized the club — that he frequented it. Not for a certain stripper, no, not for the girls performing at all. He knew every staff member from the amount of times he’d come to pick you up after your serving shift.

You always smelled like alcohol and someone’s blueberry vape, sometimes weed; you claimed that just came with the job. He’d respond asking if he smelled like gunpowder and metal, if that was the case. He remembered how you shook your head.

“You smell like cigarettes and aftershave.”

He grimaces as they approach the shining lights of the club. Myth is a looming building; five floors, only two used for actual club affairs. The other three were offices or something equally as boring; even if you would prattle on about your outlandish suspicions of a mafia being run up there.

The first floor had the basics; a main stage that was across from the full bar, a plethora of sleek tables and uncomfortable leather chairs filling the space between the two attractions. On the far wall, a few booths with itchy velour couches separated by fake bushes. Doors sat on either side of the four booths, both led to some sort of VIP room that Ghost had never stepped foot in.

The second floor overlooked the stage section of the first, only the dancers could see the people decorating the steel railings. It was usually reserved for the rich people, the important men who had had wives and didn’t want to be seen in the public eye, the men who were desperate enough to pay extra to pretend they could get some, and the people staff liked. Ghost happens to fit into the latter category.

There was a second stage on the upper floor, it wasn’t often dancers were up there performing, they were usually lounging around with someone they knew would paid them well. The was a second, smaller bar which served the singular purpose of storing new bottles, which caused you to complain about having to go up and down the stairs every time you had to get another round for a table.

His constant presence had led to him “befriending” the bartenders (if getting a free drink counted as being friends) and getting half-hired as security (he was roughly the same size as the men they already had for the job), even the hostesses knew to assign him to your section each time he walked in.

It baffled him, to say the least. Even after he was gone for 11 months the one time, (what a god awful time that was), the Myth staff knew who he was.

Ghost didn’t even register Price trying to tell him to stop as he walked to the shiny glass doors of Myth. The thing that dragged him out of an absentminded state was Soap’s obnoxiously loud laughter, Ghost stopped dead in his tracks and spun around to face the rest of the task force.

“Yae walkin’ right in like ye own the place, eh, Lt?” He had a conniving grin on his face. “Didnae take you for that kinda guy.” Gaz looked like he was trying to picture Ghost in a club, Price only looked at him with mild amusement on his face.

Ghost glares at Soap, embarrassed. “I’m going where we were told to go.”

“Wasting no time, either.” Gaz manages to crack a smile from Price with his chide.

“Are we going in, or not?” Ghost’s eyebrows raise in questioning, his patience already running thin. He looked over his shoulder at the bouncer, who he wishes he didn’t recognize as Paul.

Gaz had already fished his ID out of his pockets, the graying white background of the Royal Air Force card reflecting the sign lights. Soap wasn’t far behind him, most people who see someone with a mohawk assume it’s a teenager who lost a bet. Anyone could look at the Captain and know he’s over the age of 18, no college student could rival the man’s facial hair.

And Ghost? All he had to do was look Paul in the eyes and he was let though without even a second glance. It was no different than if he were just coming in to pick you up, although it was considerably earlier than your usual 2 AM clock outs. Ghost forgot the club was even open at 5 PM.

He got an odd look from Soap at the lack of identification, but odd looks from Soap were a daily occurance.

The club looked the exact same as when he’d left 4 months ago, the same blue-purple lighting, same ugly silver bead curtains hanging over the walls, and the same Thursday night bartender. His name was something along the lines of Tony (Tim?); Ghost hadn’t particularly cared about him, he’s never at the club on Thursdays anyway. Your shifts are normally on the weekends, only the occasional Thursday if there was an event.

The hostess seems to be familiar, too. She’s either Camille or Angelica; he could never really remember who was who. The two have the same bleach blonde, blue eyes, and freckles; they’re practically the same person to Ghost. He really only pays attention to you when he’s at Myth.

The hostess stares at Ghost for a second, as if trying to recognize him. Before she could try to speak, Price cut in.

“We’re meeting someone here. Blonde hair, a little older.” His eyes scan the half-empty floor of the room. “She might be upstairs?”

The hostess perks up at the mention of a woman. “Right. Follow me, please.”

The blonde led the group of them upstairs, two of the 20 tables had people at them. Only one of them had a Laswell-looking woman at them. The other was a group of seven men; each in a suit, and each with a glass in their hand.

Once the hostess set a few menus on the table, she spoke a final time. “Your server will be right over.”

Ghost let the others sit down before him, eyes lingering on the group of men across from them before they slid over to Laswell. She looked as comfortable as any other person in a strip club by choice, lounging back in her chair with a cocktail in her hand.

“You look disgruntled,” she notes, eyes resting on Ghost.

“You had us meet in a strip club,” Ghost mutters. “This isn’t my usual scene.” It was quite the lie, really. He’s spent more time here than any other pub in the Manchester area at this point.

“It’s close to home.” She takes a sip of her drink, completely at peace. “And it’s unsuspecting. Who comes into a strip club to talk about top secret information?”

Ghost looks at her, unamused. “Us.”

Laswell ignores the distaste in his voice. “You don’t have to worry about that group,” her head tilts in the direction of the rowdy group of men. “They’re all drunk or too focused on the girls to even bother listening to us.”

The distant sound of heels against the floor catches his attention, his eyes fly towards the staircase. And there you are, flouncing up the stairs with three glasses in one hand and a bottle of Blue Label in the other.

You make your way to the group of men, a customer service smile plastered on your face. Ghost can’t hear your words, but he watches you set the bottle down in front of the most important-looking man, along with two of the glasses you were carrying.

He watches as your shoulders bounce when you laugh at something he says, though it looks like the fakest giggle you can muster.

He watches as the man takes a 20 pound note from his pocket and tucks it right between your tits. On instinct, Ghost’s hands tighten into fists and he glares. It’s a sharp glare, one he’d give to some idiot recruit that tried being cocky. You gasp, then smile brightly at the man, he can tell you’re saying thank you profusely from the way your mouth is moving.

You step away from the man and Ghost’s eyes fly from him to you, and his glare drops into a normal enough look, but his fists are still tight; his fingernails dig into the palms of his hands.

Ghost’s eyes roam your body, how the little black skirt you’re wearing rode up just enough that it would be considered a tease, how the black shirt you’re wearing is just a little too tight around your tits, and the 20 pound note that was stuck right between the two of them. He had to consciously unclench his fist before anyone would notice.

Then you come prancing over, hips swaying almost hypnotically as you walk, a glass of bourbon nestled in your hand.

You smile sweetly as you bend down in front of him, showing off both your tits and the note right between them, and set his glass on the table.

“I believe that’s for you, big boy.” Fuck, he missed hearing your voice, the nickname flies over his head through his stupor. Even if it was the faux, sultry version of it you used for work. “Can I get the rest of you anything? A beer? Whiskey?”

It was almost impossible for Ghost to tear his eyes away from you, rather, that damn note between your breasts. He wanted to pluck it out and throw it right back at the other man, replace it with something bigger, better.

When he notices Gaz’s disturbed stare, his eyes avert from you.

Gaz’s eyes trail from his to yours, “I’ll take a Manhattan.”

You smile at him, “of course, is Sazerzac okay?” Gaz nods shortly, glancing away from you to avoid Ghost’s stare. “Anyone else?” You pivot towards Price, shifting your weight from one leg to the other.

Price angles his head to meet your gaze, squinting through the LEDs of the club. “Gin and tonic,” his eyes don’t leave yours, “Hendrick’s.” An offhand comment from Soap entertains the liquor’s Scottish origins.

You nod along with his words, then tilt your head towards Soap. “Can I get you anything?”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

“I hope you mean the soda,” you muse. You didn’t get any reaction out of the group, not a single smile — how disappointing. “We have the cherry kind, if you’re into that.”

Soap shakes his head, a small frown on his face. “Just normal Coke’ll do.”

You hum absentmindedly, “alright.” Your eyes flicker to Ghost, the smile on your face contorts into a little mischievous one. “Are you going to be wanting the bottle, Simon?”

You really are a vixen, aren’t you? Through grit teeth, Ghost spits out, “no.”

“Alright, then. I’ll be back with those drinks, boys.” A single wink, and you were off. Low heels clacking against the tile floor, hips swaying side to side. Ghost was all too aware of every detail of your retreating body, from the way your hair bounced with each step you took, how the skirt you wore rode up just slightly enough to make his grip on his bourbon tighten.

Ghost fights the urge to get up, grab you by the waist, and pull you onto him. Both his experiences and his logical reasoning say it’s a terrible idea, yet the idea of reminding you who you ultimately belong to is so enticing he could be drooling.

He’s seen you cockdumb; it almost always comes after you pull a stunt like this. Of course, he knows you do it just for the sake of getting him bothered and getting fucked stupid. But he also likes the idea that you do it just for him. You put on a little show.

He finally put it together years ago. Back when you would bring over some pathetic-looking hookup just to see his reaction. When you’d fake moan loud enough for the whole damn neighborhood to hear, then look at him the next morning through your eyelashes all innocent.

At some point, the hookups ended, and you began flirting with customers right in front of him. Just like you had done a moment before.

When your head disappears from view, Soap is the first to attack him vocally, almost gawking after you. “You’re on a first name basis with the bottle girls at a strip club?” He looks incredulously at Ghost, almost jealous.

“Is that why you were in such a hurry to get inside? You knew this was where your flings worked?”

Soap leans in closer, “how often do you come here, LT?” It was question after question from the Scotsman, and despite his inclination towards him, Ghost was getting slowly more fed up.

Ghost set his glass down, “I’m going to the bathroom.” He put his hands to his knees and stood up from the plush seat, eyes scanning the other group one more time before he left his teammates at the table.

It doesn’t take long for him to find you, leaning up against the doorframe to the server’s closet while you wait for another cocktail server to put in a ticket, twiddling your coworker’s Elfbar in your hands until she reaches behind her for the vape.

You hand it off to her and turn to face Ghost, a catty smile adorning your lips. “How can I help you, sir?” Ghost stops a few inches before you and a hand darts towards your cleavage. He tugs the 20 pound note from between your tits, your hands following his to grab for it.

You give Ghost several noises of grievances as he holds the note away from you, a look of slight disgust evident in the ways his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed.

By the time you gave up trying to reach the banknote, he’d begun digging in his back pocket. “I’d like my tip back, asshole.”

Ghost says nothing in return, no noise or gesture to acknowledge he had heard you. Instead, he tugs a 20 and a 50 pound note from his pocket and tuck the two bills into the space between your breasts. The money from the other man was crumpled and shoved back into his pocket.

You don’t stop him, you’re a bit too turned on to even think of stepping away from him.

“There,” he mutters. “your tip.” He steps back from you, like he was going to leave and go back to his table. You, however, were having none of that.

“Hold on.” Your hand twitches, stopping before it could shoot out to grab his wrist (but you’re smarter than that, you know him). “You didn’t call or anything.”

Ghost frowns under the mask. “I’m not home.” It was a clipped reply, not one you wanted.

“What?” You match his frown, annoyed.

“I’m here for work. You saw the others,” his hand gestures vaguely to the upstairs, “they’re my coworkers.”

You raise an eyebrow, “you work with someone who has a mohawk?” Disappointment flickers in Ghost’s eyes, if it was from your question or just the thought of Soap’s haircut, you didn’t know. The poor man isn't even there to defend himself.

“Is it that hard to believe?” Ghost knows that, yes, it is hard to believe that he worked with a Scotsman with a terrible haircut while continuing to be the infamous Lieutenant ‘Ghost.’

The look on your face screams ‘yes.’

Ghost relents, “listen.” His voice has a certain sadness in it that makes you calm down a bit. Truthfully, you’re pretty damn pissed at him for just showing up out of the blue from God-knows-where, but your expression softens after a few seconds.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Riley.” Your coworker nudges your shoulder to let you know it was your turn to use the kiosk. “Go back to your friends,” you wave your hand in a dismissive fashion. “I’m working.”

Ghost doesn’t budge, even after you’ve ducked between the bead curtains that dangle at the top half of the doorway. You pop back out of the doorway, an unsurprised look on your face.

“Don’t flirt with him.”

Your eyebrows fly up, an incredulous tone flooding your voice. “What?”

“Don’t flirt with him,” Ghost repeats, his eyes boring into yours.

You set a hand on your hip, annoyed. “I’m making money.” The look in his eyes doesn’t change, he’s utterly serious about some random man you’re flirting with for extra cash. A thought crosses your mind, and your annoyance melts into mischief.

“You’re jealous over him?” The way his eyes widen a bit is enough to tell you that, yeah, he is. “Really, big boy?”

And fuck, if you didn’t have him wrapped around your finger by the way you walked, you had him now. All it took was one stupid nickname and Ghost is crumbling into Simon.

“Not jealous,” is his defense. You just soak it in with a grin on your face. You step towards him a little, shoulders forward and leaning down ever so slightly so that your cleavage is a little more obvious, so that the money he stuck between your tits is poking right out at him.

“You sure?” You look up at him, still grinning like your coworker once had when she got a free vape from a customer. “Seems like you’re a bit jealous.”

All he can do is stare down at you, clenching his jaw shut lest he say something he really shouldn’t. But God, does he wish he could.

Really, if it weren’t only 5 PM, he would’ve let you get to him. Let you drag him into an empty VIP room and fuck your words right out of you, leaving you a whimpering, babbling mess. But Ghost — Simon — knows better than to incapacitate you when you’re working.

All he’s left to do is watch as you give him little smirks from across the room, as you adjust your clothes to be just a bit more revealing, as you get close enough that he can smell the remnants of your perfume when you ask him aimless questions. And that’s just what he’ll do once you prance off to get his teammates drinks.

You pat him on his covered cheek patronizingly before you slink away, outstretching your hands for the three drinks cluttered at one side behind the bar. You pass him by, drinks in hand.

“If anything,” you look up to his eyes as you pass him, “it’s the guys you’re with you should be jealous of. You know I like older guys.” That’s enough for Simon to be reclaimed by Ghost.

He follows after you, glowering at your back. You don’t have to look back at him to know he’s scowling at you, but it brings you a slight bit of satisfaction.

“C’mon, big boy,” you hum, “I’ll get you another drink if you tell me his name.” You look back at him once you reach the staircase and climb a few steps ahead of him.

Ghost stares into your eyes like a dead man, you almost think you’ve gone a bit too far. “No.”

You give him an exaggerated pout and turn back to the front to see where you’re going. “If you aren’t jealous, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”

“No,” he huffs, irritation growing steadily. “Ask again and I’ll have your head.”

You quicken your pace on the last few steps, skirt bouncing from the motion; Ghost doesn’t bother to look away. He follows you back to the table where Laswell and the others are chatting quietly.

You lean down to set the drinks on the table, and Ghost takes his chance. His hands hover around your hips, bulge brushing against your ass as he moves behind you to sit down in his seat.

“Sorry,” he muses in the most unapologetic tone you’ve ever heard from him. It’s Simon’s eyes that look into yours, like a challenge. A really, really horny challenge. “Had to get past you.”

#cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley fanfic #fem reader #simon riley mw2 #simon riley x female reader #cod fic #mw2 fic #mw2 x you #mw2 smut #mw2 x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon ghost riley smut

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messenger-of-babel · 14 days ago

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Always Late

Summary: Batman was late when you needed him the most, but he refused to let it happen again. (Batfamily x sibling!reader)

Word Count: 4.5K (This was supposed to be a quick fic 💀)

Notes: BIG AUTHOR NOTE INCOMING Before anyone comes for me- I know this was supposed to be a day for Chris. I'm just feeling a touch sick but still want to get a fic out, and I'm currently not able to churn out and go through his, so I'll write some Chris later! Instead I wanted something else, consider it a change up to shake some life back into the theme. I also rambled hella long on this one, so strap in, it's long and the plot got lost in the maze of my mind. I had to shuffle things around and it just kept growing and growing, oh my god so I hope it makes sense to everyone still. Clark caemo, some (very??) OOC villain work cause I forgot some of my original plot and villains so begging on my knees for forgiveness fr. GRAPHIC VIOLENCE/ TORTURE DESCRPTION FOR SOME AREAS. I should have made this two parts but I messed up and made just one massive fic. Was supposed to be batfam x reader but it started feeling more like bruce x reader hahaha. RIP my sleep schedule please reap the benefits of my labour. 😭

Again I was originally here to be a resi blog but I can't help writing for DC after a day of reading comics. On that topic I actually finished collecting Tom Taylor's run at #118, my store held #119 for me so I get to read that as a reward after the hell that will be my Monday.

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When you were taken, it caused a widespread panic among Gotham.

Tabloids across the city wrote about the latest missing person, this time none other than the latest member of billionaire Bruce Wayne's family. The Gotham Gazette had been running articles about you for months already, including the scandal that had come with it. Your dirty laundry and past had been aired for the entire city to read and speculate upon. Whether Bruce had just adopted you out of pity, sympathising with the way that you had lost your parents the same way he had. Gossip about it could all be a ploy for him to expand his influence in Gotham, after the riches and estate that your family had left you behind in their untimely death. The city was thrown into chaos from the death of your parents, both of them from founding Gotham families and well-established lawyers. It was shaken more once the Wayne had taken you into his household, and now it was all but alight as you vanished.

Fingers pointed in every which way, your disappearance marking the fourth among affluent families in Gotham. Accusations had even been hurled at Bruce, claiming that he had killed you in order to gain your assets and the other missing people were to establish an alibi. After all, Bruce Wayne had no alibi for the night that you went missing.

But he had an alibi.

Bruce reflected upon that fact for three days already, while he tore his hair out trying to find you. He had been out in the city, patrolling as usual. The disappearances were the latest case, and he was determined to stop them before they continued. He had been so involved in the case, standing so close to the evidence that he didn't even consider the option that he himself would be affected, or consider the perpetrator might targe the Waynes. he hadn't expected to get a call from Alfred a little past midnight, the butler wheezing painfully into the receiver.

Blood freezing in his veins he had come home to an empty house, windows on the third story smashed in. Alfred was slumped by the phone, its sleek body hanging off the hook. Bruce had pulled the cowl off without a second thought, cradling the older man's head in his lap with shaky hands. He had relaxed slightly when there was a steady pulse under his fingers, and the tension eased further when the older man had opened his eyes.

"Alfred," Bruce had sighed out, moving the old man from his lap to against the wall, hand keeping him upright. "Are you okay-"

"They took them." came the old man's mumbled reply, and for a second Bruce's jaw just hung there.

"What do you mean?" he asked, heart thudding painfully against his ribs, panic rising once more.

"They came through the window, cut the lights. I pretended to be unconscious to use the phone line, but they came back. Cut it shortly after I rang you." the older man said, looking up with remorseful eyes. "I'm so, so sorry, Mr. Wayne." he said forlornly. "I couldn't stop them."

Bruce looked down; jaw tensed. "It wasn't your fault." he said firmly, trying to quell the despair radiating off the old man.

"They took them kicking and screaming. I could hear them the entire time, but I couldn't do anything I-"

"Alfred." Bruce said sternly. "Alfred it's okay. Let me handle it, you go make some tea." he said, helping the old man stand up.

"Tea, yes, yes that's right..." the butler murmured to himself, hand to his head. "It's been a while since you asked me for tea, sir."

"It's not for me." Bruce said, pulling the cowl back on. "It's for you. make yourself some tea and we'll patch you up. Take it easy tonight, wait for the shock to wear off."

Alfred looks at him, hesitating, but eventually nods. "We, sir?"

Bruce hums, fists at his side. "Yes. This case has escalated. It's time to request help."

He keeps his voice level as he walks away, but Alfred notes the way that he turns the corner, and the anger put into his stride.

When he gets to the cave he wastes no time, calling in everyone he can think of. His chest feels tight, breath short as his vision swims. Every signal he can send he does, the blurring in his eyes seeping into his mind too. He cradles his head in his hands, trying to calm it but to no avail. It's only when the ringing of the Batcomputer cuts through the fog that he is able to look up, shaking fingers hitting the accept call button.

"Batman?" comes the crackly voice of Nightwing, and the fog begins to clear slightly.

"Nightwing." he says back gruffly, voice hoarse.

"About time, you were making people pretty worried, you know." Dick chides, and there's the sound of yapping in the background. "What's the brief? What's happened?"

"Kidnapping." he says, voice thick. "Broke into the manor. Alfred is likely to be concussed, but it shouldn't be too serious. He's making tea, Robin is out on the other side of the city tonight. Red Robin is with you, isn't he?"

There's more shuffling on the other end before Dick responds. "Yeah, he's been helping in Bludhaven, he came last night."

"Bring him. Bring Oracle too. Everyone...come home." he murmurs, hands shaking as he tries to think clearly.

"Bruce, is everything okay with you?" Dick comes in, concern evident.

"Fine. I need people back immediately. Why?" he huffs back, rubbing the spots from his eyes with his fingers.

"Because we've all been trying to call you for the last few minutes. This is the first time you've picked up."

Bruce takes a deep breath, exhaling softly. He hadn’t realised how badly he had spaced out. "It's an emergency. They...they’re gone. They need to come home."

"The new kid?" Dick breathes. "Wait, you mean-"

Bruce nods even though he knows his eldest cannot see him. "Gone. Now come back and come back tonight." he ends the call before Dick can say anything else, and his tired eyes scan the monitor filled with a string of outgoing distress calls and an equally large number of missed ones. In his haze he had pressed every com line he had. He had pinged Jason, he had pinged Dick. Hell, he had even pinged the League and Clark, who hadn't even bothered to call for clarity, his response status just reading, 'On my way'.

He held his head in his hands, breaths laboured.

Bruce had held his own reservations when adopting you. He knew about the media uprising that it would cause, the rumours that were sure to fly. He had known what kind of mental state that would put you in, how it would angle you in a whole new world of cameras, but he couldn't help himself. He had seen you while in the suit, and maybe he had taken you in to make himself feel better. For not catching the person who had killed your parents, arriving too late. He had been training for this his entire life, it was his entire mission in Gotham, yet he couldn't stop the very crimes that had put him on this path.

If he had been faster maybe he could have saved your parents, disarming the man with the knife before it plunged into the chest of your father. Maybe he could have arrived faster so that he could have caught the offender that robbed your mother before giving her the same treatment and fleeing into the night. Instead, he was only there fast enough for him to hear you scream as your parents collapsed to the floor. He was there as you cried and shook them and tried to stop the blood spilling through your fingers, but you were unsure where to start. After all, how can someone make a decision between stopping the flow seeping from their father’s chest and the one from their mother’s throat?

He had been there to pull you away, was there to catch the last dying light of your father as he stroked your cheek before making eye contact with Bruce. "Look after my kid." he had whispered, something Bruce had nearly missed under all your screaming. Bruce pulled you away while he called for the GCPD, and from one father to another, he made sure to keep that promise.

Your relationship had been rough, clearly distraught at the way you lost your parents. You were older than he was when the same had happened, but you were still young. You had clung to Bruce the day he said he was going to take you in, and he had managed to soothe you with a soft hand up and down your back. Yet as the tabloids got worse and the gossip began to grow, you began pulling away from him and seeking the comfort of your room instead. He had done his best to protect you from the media, paying money to have articles removed and when that didn't work, he threatened to sue. It made the Gazette pull their head in a bit, but it still failed to be enough. Evidently, as there was now an empty bedroom on the third floor of the east wing.

All he could do was sigh and blink away the images of the children he had hurt, in the name of Robin or otherwise. He had to rub away the death of Jason that he reflected on in sombre moments when he thought no one was looking. He had gotten you into this mess, attached you with his name and all of its subsequent burdens. So, it was his duty to get you back and get you back safe.

Yet three days later, he had nothing.

The cave had been a buzz of activity for all three days, and Bruce, no, Batman, was acting close to a slave driver. Tim and Barbara hadn't left the caves computers in days, Damian and Steph constantly scouring the rooftops. Dick was concerned, hell, everyone was. Even the gruff Jason had been called in, and reluctantly he had answered.

"You find anything?" Dick asked, leaning against the wall with his younger brother. Jason was still suited up, coming back from the patrol around Bristol area. He removes the mask and shakes his hair free, sighing.

"Nothing. Areas come up empty. No sign of 'em."

Dick sighs, running a hand through his hair. "God, there's nothing on my end either. The Docks and all Southside of Gotham are clean, no traces. Any signs pointing to who it could be?"

Jason shrugs, helmet tucked under his arm. "No idea, as it stands, the kid's just gone missing. If Bruce isn't able to scrounge up a lead, I doubt I will. Not my forte. He should give Tim a break and send him out."

"Yeah, like he'll do that. He's got him tied to cave duty." Dick scoffs back. He feels bad, talking like your kidnapping was a causal affair. He didn't treat it like one, his heart stuttering when Bruce had called him in a haze and all shaken. It didn't a genius to see how attached Bruce had gotten to you in such a short amount of time, but sometimes Dick worried that Bruce was projecting his own trauma onto you. But still you were his younger sibling, a part of the family now. He had met you with a warm smile and a gentle hand the day that you moved in, coming in from Bludhaven to make the house a bit more lively while you got settled in. God, he knew what it was like moving in alone into that empty house, with only Bruce and Alfred to warm the halls. He had eaten dinner with you, took you out for walks in the garden when your grief allowed you move more than a few paces. He did his absolute best, and he knew that with time he could be a big brother to you.

Yet you hadn't been given the time, snatched away before Christmas even hit. He doubted you knew that Bruce was the Batman, or that the rest of the family had an interesting array of night lives.

Jason was the same in the way that he hadn't interacted with you much.

Honestly, he was awkward with kids, since the last kid of Bruce's he had met was the devil spawn who spat at him like an angry cat every chance he got. You were thankfully much older and easier to understand, but that still didn’t mean smooth sailing. Jason hated even coming back to the manor, and he and Bruce had been having one of their ongoing fights during the time he took you in, meaning he missed seeing you often. Yet he still talked to Dick (more so that Dick called him to make sure that he was okay) and the older man had seen you plenty. He felt like he knew you from Dick alone, but he wasn't oblivious to your story printed in the newspapers shoved under his apartment door. He pitied you, understood the grief that you must have been going through at the sudden violence that tossed your little world upside down. Sure, you had gone from luxury to luxury, but Gotham was unkind to everyone. it was the same violence that Jason strode to clean off the street, and his heart ached deep down that someone like you had managed to get caught in its claws.

"Do you think it could be the clown?" Dick asks quietly. "He'd do something as ballsy as this."

Jason tenses, thinking for a moment before shaking his head. "Not likely. That bastard likes to make a spectacle of things. No doubt he would have contacted the Bat the second he took the first victim or aired it like some twisted game show. It's not like him to lay quiet."

"So, it's someone else. It's unnatural for Gotham's villains to do something in the dark like this. I mean, it's been three days since they were abducted, and they're the fourth kidnap victim. There hasn't been a ransom note, a demand, a body. Not a peep for any of the captives. It's unnatural."

Jason hums in agreement, but they both jump as Bruce storms through grandfather clock entrance.

Everyone present turns, watching how Clark trails after him. Five sets of eyes watch the livid way the Bat cuts a path through the cave and gets into the batmobile, breaths too anxious to be released. Without a word the car screams out of the cave, and they all turn to Clark. Barbara casts a glance to Tim and then to Dick, who just shrugs, worry deepening on his face.

"What the hell's going on?" Jason growls, pushing off from the wall. Clark turns to face him, dressed in his Superman suit.

"We’ve found them." Clark says, face grim, and Dick shares a look with Jason. However, when Dick meets the eyes of Superman, he can see the flicker of worry in the Kryptonian. "Well let's get going then. Why did he leave alone?" Dick asked, slipping the domino mask back onto his face. Clark opens his mouth to speak but is cut off as Damian steps out behind his broad figure.

"Because it's the League." the younger boy says, green eyes boring in Dick's. "It's grandfather."

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

Bruce drove like his life depended on it, which wasn't fair when it was yours on the line instead. He could see the dots on his monitor indicating that the others were following him, and he had assumed that Clark had proceeded to fill them in. He had asked his old friend to look after the city while he sped towards the outskirts, just in case the League decided to do something while he had his guard on the city lowered. His com crackled to life, radio filling the otherwise silent car.

"Oi." snapped the voice of Red Hood, modulated and grainy. "Don't leave without telling us what's going on. Aren't you the one always spewing that 'feel-no-emotion' bullshit? To not let it cloud your judgement? Cause from the way I see it, you're acting kinda hazy."

"I trusted Clark would fill you in." he says back, voice tense. Red Hood scoffs.

"Yeah, and he did. You called us. You tell us what the hell you want us to help with, otherwise don't bother calling at all. Don't drag us out, get us invested then not let us help when it comes to it. What was your plan, beat the shit out of Ras and taken them back by yourself?"

Bruce falls silent, and there's a slight huff from Jason on the other end.

"Honestly? not the worst plan you've had, and I respect the enthusiasm, but you still should have looped us in. I want to get a hit in too."

Bruce turns his head to the direction of the radio, snapped from his concentration on the road momentarily and it's like Jason can feel his confusion through the commlink.

"Don't give me that silence." he groans. "They're family, aren't they? I'm not opposed to a younger sibling, you know." he huffs irritably. "But do me a favour and control Nightwing, hey? He's looking as coiled as you. You might have to fight him for the first hit."

Bruce doesn’t say anything before the comm cuts off, leaving him in the silence once more and eyes going straight back onto the red dot mapped onto his GPS. You.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

When you awoke the first time, you couldn’t feel anything. Your hands were tied to your ankles behind you, black cloth wrapped around your eyes. what you did know was that you were lying somewhere concrete, face pressed into the dusty cement. You knew that on the day that you woke and they had brough you were, that there were other people thrown in the same cell as you. You also knew that those other people were dead.

You had heard them scream, heard the way that they begged for their lives when they were dragged from the pen you were in. One a day, until you were left alone with no one to talk to. They had all been kidnapped like you, affluent people that you recognised the names and voices of. You had heard some of them at events you parents had hosted and attended, and when you traded names, they had remembered you immediately. You weren't dumb, you knew that you had all been taken here because you were rich. That was the only thing that you had in common with the heiresses and finance brokers that had shared the cells with you, huddled up against the cool metal.

Now the only thing left was you and the stickiness that crept under the bars of your cage, grateful that the blindfold was on so you didn't have to see what it was. At first you thought that you were alone, that your captors had left, but you knew better. You could sense them all around you, quiet and watching. They were like an uncomfortable prickling on your neck, the ghost of fingertips across your skin. Yet the hours and minutes had bled into days, and now you didn’t care if they were there or not.

You knew that they wanted to kill you. They had killed the rest. You had been given small amounts of food and water the first day or two, but today there had been none. Your mouth was dry as you lay on your side, lips cracking with the desire to drink. Your throat felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, and the silence that you were met with when you called out only made your panic and helplessness rise. You had lost the ability to cry, body sluggish. It felt like everything was shutting down, the pain in your stomach unbearable and tongue heavy in your mouth. As the heat crept in and pulled sweat from your unwilling skin, you began wishing that they would kill you.

You supposed that your wish was answered when the creak of your cell signalled one of your silent observers had come for you, and the tug on the ropes binding your limbs together made you lurch forward. You kept your face pressed down, too weak to struggle against them as they dragged you out and gripped your hair, making you shift onto your knees at an awkward angle. For the first time in days, you heard someone speak.

" So, this is Bruce's new...child." Your captor hummed. You could hear the way that their boots scuffed as they walked, coming to stand in front of you. You could faintly feel the swish of fabric, long and tickling the floor. "I wonder if he was planning to hand the title of Robin over so soon.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but your barely functioning brain fails to process what he's saying.

"Are you aware of your family's lineage?" comes the voice from above you, commanding and deep with a hint of something malicious in the undertone, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. “Your real family, the ones who claimed to practice a just and fair law. Not Wayne.”

You manage to shake your head weakly, grimacing as the image of your parents covered in blood flickered into your mind.

The voice above you tuts. "The sins of the father shall be bestowed upon the son," he recites softly. "And you are to pay the penance. Gotham will be purged, and the bloodlines of the corrupt shall be the first to burn, aware of their sins or not."

You don't even get a chance to ask what he's saying, the words sounding like biblical rambling. A scream is ripped through your throat instead as a sharp hot pain erupts through your shoulder, the sound of your own skin bubbling making you sick. You wail, body aching to thrash but the fatigue and weakness preventing you from doing such. The hands on your shoulders hold you still as the sensation is repeated across your body, stray tears leaking from your eyes despite your dehydrated state. It's only when you feel like you’re about to cross over, embrace the light spilling behind your eyes that you realise that the hands have left your body and that you're lying face down, discarded on the concrete floor.

You can feel the ache all over your body, a stinging and writhing pain that makes your whimper involuntarily. You can now make out that there is sound around you, echoing off the empty walls and causing your head to throb after days of silence.

For Bruce however, the world was silent despite being in the thick of the fight. They had pulled up the abandoned building on the edge of Gotham and Bludhaven, thankfully located by Clark and his x-ray vision after days of searching. He had stormed into the building with Dick, Jason, and Tim on his heels, his hands filled with a shake only the trained eye could determine as rage. The world had dripped into the pulsing cadence of his heartbeat as soon as he saw you, kneeling at Ra’s feet and being held by league assassins. He had hardly any time to process the way that you curled up and into yourself when you were dropped so carelessly, head thudding lifelessly against the floor. Forlorn, he eyed the way your body was covered with cuts and stabs, burns from the red-hot sword still held in the hands of a soldier. He hadn't known when the league had decided to dabble in torture, but Bruce felt like joining that night.

Jason and Tim were dealing with the assassins, the younger male finally freed from desk duty. He didn't know you as well as he would have liked considering that you lived under the same roof as him, but you had been warming up. He had really hoped that you could get along, but now he feared that this was going to push your back into the shell you had just started to crack, and that frustration was evident in the whistling of his bow staff as it cut through the air.

Dick had gone after Ra’s immediately while Batman raced for you, Dicks escrima sticks going for the head. Dick was fast and agile, muscles more tensed than usual as he sent well placed blow after blow. Yet Bruce wasn’t an idiot, he knew the limits of him and his team, and he knew the limits of Ra’s. That's why in what limited time that Dick bought for him he dropped to your side, slicing through your bonds with a batarang and letting your arms and legs fall free from their cramped position behind you. You groan lightly as he cradles you to his chest, weakly crying out as he justles the many wounds. He loosens the blindfold from your eyes, and your blink up at him a few seconds later, squinting against the light.

Your skin is sticky with blood both your own and not, flecked across the apple of your cheeks. He eyes the burns, the warped and rippled skin that blistered angrily and would surely get infected if not treated soon. He observes the many cages set up in the corner, the one he presumes was yours wide open and empty. He feels sick seeing the dead bodies in the other ones, imagining that it could have been you in there, dead like some caged animal for slaughter.

You make a weak whimper when he stands, and he has half a mind to join Nightwing in beating Ras so badly he'd need to use the pit again.

But he doesn’t.

He rises to his feet with you in his arms, and he calls for a retreat. You cry and moan as he hurries out, Jason and Tim covering your exit while Dick flips into the rafters and out of range of the Demon Head. He wants to fight; he wants to put them in their place for hurting his family. But the moment he had met your eyes again, it was like that day in the alleyway. You had seen him as Batman too that day, but as he laid you hurriedly in the back of the batmobile and patched Oracle in to prep the med bay, he knew that something was different from that night.

Because unlike the day you lost your parents, he had made it in time.

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spatialwave · 6 months ago

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"all mine."

pairing: lee russell x fem!reader word count: 2.5k summary: as the youngest teacher on staff, you enjoy taking your peers out for a night of dancing, drinking and gossiping. lee russell was one of the few who joined, the married man you’d fallen hopelessly in love with. warnings/tags: mdni! smut, affair/cheating, dirty dancing, oral (m-receiving), verbal degradation, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, i feel like i made lee a little ooc so forgive me!

“oh, come on, lee,” your voice was soft and gentle, humming sweetly like a songbird, “it’s friday night, and you’d rather go home? really?”

hazel eyes settled on you as you shared a table in the staff room. it was sixth period and you had a planning period. you may have been the youngest member of staff, but you were the most organized, meaning you could waste the hour away with your favourite person at north jackson high.

vice principal lee russell.

your bottom lip was jutted out in a pout as he stared at you with his chin in both hands. he kept a straight face for a few moments until he scoffed and waved you away, “don’t give me that fuckin’ look, you’re too good at guiltin’ people into doin’ shit. you’re a bad influence.”

you gasped, sitting up straight, “that’s rich coming from you. i recall you asking me to help you dig dirt on gamby when he was pissing you off last year, and i followed him around for an entire saturday like some serial-killer stalker. a saturday when i was supposed to hang with my girlfriends, mind you, so don’t get all grouchy with me about being a bad influence.”

he pursed his lips and his gaze flickered between your eyes, “fine, if you must know, i’m starting to feel old as shit, okay? everytime we go out i end up at home at four in the goddamn morning with a migraine and the luxury of a two-day fuckin’ hangover” lee admitted, “it’s a real pain in the ass, you know. if it isn’t for you pukin’ your guts out and needin’ help home every weekend, i’d be back home in the comfort of my own bed at a normal fuckin’ time.”

you lips curved into a small smile as you listened to the man whine and complain, “not my fault that someone buys me shots all night.”

“and that was the last time because i learned my fuckin’ lesson. you can’t handle your alcohol,” he pointed a finger at you, lips lifting at the corners to match your sweet, little smile.

lee russell was smitten with you, and it was a slippery slope that he’d been sliding down. he was a married man, after all, but the marriage came with its own complications.

“great talk. i’ll see you tonight, lee.” you winked at him, taking your coffee, and giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze as you walked past him. lee’s eyes stayed on your body, watching your hips sway with each movement.

you had him wrapped around your finger, and he fucking hated it.

loud music and flashing lights filled your senses as you sipped on your vodka soda, waiting for your peers to arrive as time ticked away. amanda, bill and jen were always ready to crush back shots and forget about the bullshit week of classes with you, but even they were late.

you checked your cellphone as you leaned up against the bar, seeing if you had any missed messages from your colleagues. nothing.

you downed the rest of your drink and made a stop in the washroom to touch up your makeup and adjust your outfit—something special you wore in hopes to impress lee. a short, black skirt that hugged your curves and a black halter top held with thin straps that did little to cover your skin.

staring at yourself in the mirror, you felt a mix of emotions, mostly disgust and embarrassment. lee was married, and here you were hurting your feet with four-inch heels and wearing an uncomfortable skirt in hopes that he’d see you and want to ravage you.

all for him to not even show up.

you swallowed your pride. maybe you would forget about the married man if you met someone nice on the dancefloor. someone single and your age.

your heels clicked against the tiled floor as you left the bathroom, eyes flickering around the busy club when your gaze settled on the man you’d fallen madly in love with. he was at the bar with two shots in front of him, hazel eyes eagerly searching for you. you stayed in the shadows a bit longer, your heart rate skyrocketing as you watched him standing there in his dark grey suit with red-patterned button down peeking from underneath.

he was such a dork—a nicely dressed dork.

those eyes you loved flickered in your direction, and your stomach filled with butterflies when his lips pulled into a toothy grin. he hadn’t even needed to beckon you, your legs working beyond your brain as you sauntered to his side.

“lee,” you beamed, wrapping your arms around your friend and giving him a quick hug, smelling the expensive, intoxicating cologne, “you’re the only one who showed,” your breath tickled his ear as you spoke, pulling back with a coy smile in your lips. you were quick to notice the way he looked you up and down, settling on your revealed skin until he met your eyes.

“really? no one else came?” he was shocked as he spoke, “well, those assholes are missing out,” he slid one of the tequila shots over to you, “because tonight is the fucking night we party our goddamn brains out. we’re not goin’ home until the sun is risin’, baby, i promise you that.”

the casual pet name sent a shiver up your spine, “what happened to being too old?” you asked with a smirk.

“a moment of weakness,” lee replied, “i’m lee fuckin’ russell, i’m fuckin’ invincible. i wanna’ get goddamn wasted!”

the tequila was warm down your throat, but you cringed at the taste. your work companion cheered, inhaling through his teeth sharply, “shit, that’s good,” he breathed, waving for the bartender to bring another round as he laid out cash on the counter to pay.

the second one went down smoother than the first, a lazy grin smeared along your lips as you focused your attention back on lee. he was already staring at you, smirking.

“why are you looking at me like a piece of meat?” you teased, licking your lips, and smoothing down the front of his suit with a delicate hand. your nails were painted a deep shade of red that matched his shirt.

“i’m allowed to admire a pretty woman,” he replied oh-so confidently, and you knew that he had showed up to the club with a few drinks already in his system, “did you dress up for me?”

this was the side of lee russell you always enjoyed seeing. the side that focused his attention solely on you, and made you feel wanted.

“you’re so full of yourself,” you laughed, cheeks warm, “i may have kept you in mind when i was getting ready.”

“i can tell,” he cocked his head to the side, unashamed in the way he reached forward and brushed your hair behind your ear. this was wrong on so many levels, but the thrill was a high that you chased, and you dared not to think about the consequences.

with the alcohol coursing through your body and the loud, bass-heavy music guiding your thoughts to the filthiest parts of your mind, you snagged lee’s hand in your own and laced your fingers together. lee russell was in a trance as he watched you lead him where the crowd of clubbers danced together—bodies grinding and arms strung around necks.

you glanced over your shoulder at him, the hunger in his eyes easy to spon even under the unpredictable lighting.

you were about to spin around and face the man, but you were surprised when his free hand landed on your hip, squeezing over the fabric of your skirt. his chest pushed flush against your back, lips tickling against your ear and causing a shudder to escape your lips.

it had been a long time since you danced like this with anyone, most nights you’d jump around the dancefloor with amanda and jen, sharing drunken laughs as lee watched you from afar. this was better.

his hips moved effortlessly with the music, yours moving in tandem as your ass bumped and swayed against the growing hard-on underneath his suit pants. your arms lifted above your head, his hands sliding up and down your sides, feeling over the bare skin revealed by your skimpy outfit.

you looked around the club, blinking and unable to focus on anything with the bright flashes of neon lights and tens of couples in the same situation as yourself. the alcohol had skewed your vision and all you could focus on was how wet you were between your legs, and the feeling of lee’s fingers caressing your exposed skin

“lee,” you breathed his name out as your head lolled back to rest against his shoulder, able to brush your lips against his jaw while hands tightened over your hips, “this is… wrong,” you could hardly speak.

your morals were showing, but you hadn’t the willpower to stop.

“it’s okay,” he hushed, head tilting enough that his lips barely brushed against yours, and it was then the alcohol seemed to hit you all at once.

you were quick to turn around in his arms, wrapping them around his neck and forcing your lips together in a kiss that had been dangling between you two for months. he licked into your mouth, parting your lips until he could slide his tongue against yours, fighting for dominance that wasn’t hard to win and leaving you wanting more.

everything happened fast.

one moment you two were tongue-fucking each other on the dancefloor, the next you were hidden away in the washroom on your knees with lee’s hands in your hair. his length was pushed deep in your throat as you sucked him off, addicted to the way his face twisted in pleasure as your tongue glided along the underside of his cock.

the music was muffled, but the washroom was loud with the sounds of girls chatting and laughing. doing coke together in the stalls, pouring alcohol out from the flasks they snuck in, and making so much noise that you weren’t worried when lee would choke out a moan or gasp your name.

your hands pressed against the front of his thighs as you bobbed your head, lips perfectly wrapped around him as his cock twitched in your mouth.

“get up,” he moaned shakily, taking your hair in his hands and yanking you from his cock. lips parted from it with a soft ‘pop’ and lee wanted so badly to keep going until your makeup was streaming down your cheeks, but he needed you, “i want to fuck you, baby,” he murmured, staring down at your eager, young face, “you won’t tell anyone, will you?”

“mhm,” you whimpered as you stood, and he pinned you against the door of the stall, “it’s our secret, just ours. i promise—”

he shut you up with his lips, a hand reaching down, so his fingers could push past your panties and waste no time in making you squirm and moan. two fingers plunged inside your cunt, and he smiled against your lips, “you’re so easy, aren’t you?”

the degradation wasn’t surprising, and you welcomed it wholly.

“bet you’ll take my cock so fuckin’ easy too, won’t you, baby?” he breathed heavy against your jaw, leaving sloppy kisses against your skin as his fingers stretched you just right, “do you want it? tell me how bad you want my cock and i’ll think about giving it to you.”

“lee,” you squirmed, hips twitching as you tried to stay upright with your legs spread for him, “i want it bad, really fucking bad. please, i need it.”

that’s all it took for lee’s impatience to get the best of him. he hooked one of your legs around his hips and replaced his fingers with his cock, slow as he filled you and pulling back to watch your pretty mouth go slack as your cunt ached around him.

“i’m not on the pill,” you were quick to whisper in his ear, your hips shaking as he started rocking his. you buried your face against his neck, scared to scream his name and let everyone in the bathroom know what you were doing.

“fuck,” he groaned into your ear, one hand on your thigh wrapped around him, the other against the metal stall door next to your head while yours tugged on his hair for dear life, “it’s okay, we’ll be okay. just—fuck,” he couldn’t finish his scrambled thoughts, his mind going blank as he fucked you slow and steady, “just shut up and take it.”

you listened obediently like you always had with him, your head falling back against the door as he fucked you, surprisingly tender in his movements. his hips rocked against yours slowly, stretching deep into your heat and leaving you a pathetic mess that could hardly stand on one foot.

“you’re so tight,” lee grunted, biting underneath your ear hard enough to leave a mark, “and you’re all mine, all fucking mine.”

you pressed a hand to your lips, shutting yourself up as lee’s movements quickened. the stall door started squeaking with each forward kick of his hips, and neither of you cared at this point. all you could do was take it like he told you, legs parted and cunt squeezing around his cock until he came, filling you like he dreamed about doing every night.

the following monday had rolled by too quickly for your liking. you’d spent most of your sunday alone in your apartment, recovering from your night out and wallowing in the guilt that came with being lee’s mistress of the night. he’d gone home before sunrise, dropping you off at home in your shared taxi and sending you off with a kiss that had you feeling all kinds of confused.

your stomach twisted as you thought about seeing him today.

the morning bell hadn’t rung yet, and you were lounging in the staff room with a coffee in your hands and listening to the chatter of teachers having their last few moments of freedom.

“bummer that you had to cancel saturday night,” amanda’s voice caught your attention as she walked into the staff room, “but i hope you’re feeling better. there is nothing worse than wasting your weekends being sick.”

you perked up, confusion on your face as she poured her coffee.

“after lee let us all know you weren’t feeling good on friday he planned for us to go to this new bar on the other side of town. it was actually really fun, but can you believe this?” she peered over her shoulder to look at you, “he didn’t even show up.”

#lee russell #lee russell x reader #lee russell x you #vice principals #lee russell fic #walton goggins #wordsbyspatial

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nikkeora · 1 year ago

Text

For All the Mary Janes

summary; 'in every other universe, gwen stacy falls for spider-man. and in every other universe, it doesn’t end well'. what about the mary janes, then?

or, in which you're the mary jane to miles's spider-man

pairing(s); e-1610! Miles Morales x reader, e-42! Miles Morales x reader

warning(s); i didn’t have any specific gender or race for r in mind while writing, but rio calls r ‘mija’ once and i think that’s ab it

maybe some incorrect usage of Spanish? Spanish speakers who can respond to my weird questions pls hmu

maybe ooc but it’s been in my drafts so long i just wanted to get it out tbh

implied/mentioned parental issues with reader, not proofread, written (mostly) at ao3 hours

You and Miles were always joined at the hip. Your parents knew each other well, so your families were together a lot. Mr. and Mrs. Morales saw you like their own daughter, often joking that you and Miles would be engaged when you got older with the way he could never leave you alone.

At least, up till around two years ago.

You and Miles started to grow apart when you got into Visions Academy. He thought it was a stupid school full of stuck-up rich kids who only cared about making connections that would help them along further down the line. You thought it was a good school that had a good track record of producing students that had a lot of success in what they wanted to do.

Some things were said the day before your transfer.

Since then, the two of you rarely texted or called. Mrs. Morales would often come by for coffee with your mom, tell you about how her son was doing and gush over 'how much you've grown' from last Tuesday, but that was about the only way you knew the vague outline of what he was up to.

You'd admit you felt lonely for a while. After all, Miles had been your best friend ever since you could remember. But you also weren't going to go running to him after everything he'd said.

I mean, was it really that bad to want a good future?

Soon enough though, you felt like yourself again. You met new people, made new contacts, and actual friends. Because contrary to popular belief, the people there weren't all mini business men and heartless CEOs in the making. They were just kids, after all.

And then, Miles won the draw. Just a few weeks before the start of the new semester, your parents mentioned that he'd be going to your school from now on in passing.

You didn't think much of it at first. I mean, everyone has that one childhood friend that they fell apart with, right? For the first week or so, you didn't even see his face much. In fact, you didn't see him at all, not even a glimpse in the halls.

That was about to change drastically.

Short story shorter, you caught a glimpse of him walking on the side of the school with pigeons stuck to his hands. A month or two later, Spider-Man climbed through your dorm window, ripping off his mask and ranting about some villain of the week.

"I couldn't even catch the guy-"

"Miles?"

"...You're not Ganke."

The two of you made up that night. He apologized, admitting he was being unfair and was upset that you were leaving his school. It didn't exactly clear everything, but it was a start. The two of you caught each other up on everything they had missed. In the end, the sun was about to come up and the both of you realized you hadn't gotten a minute of sleep on a school night.

From then on, the two of you get closer again. He went to you for the occasional rant or patch up, and he actively sought you out in school now, relieved to see a familiar face in the halls. Gradually, you got close to the point you'd call him one of your best friends and vice versa after around a year of radio static.

Everything was great. He was cute, funny - in an awkward way, but hey, he made you laugh - he looked out for you, and when he talked to you he did this cute little thing where he would play with the strings of his hoodie which he somehow always managed to layer on with like two other jackets and—

Oh yeah, did we mention the crush you had on him?

Because there was one.

Big huge one, right here. Materialized out of thin air looks like.

Which should have been fine. You were perfectly capable of hiding a crush. I mean, come on, it's high school. You would've been eaten alive if you couldn't.

Normally, you would even be confident that you could make your crush like you back. I mean, why wouldn't he?

Two words. One person.

Gwen Stacy.

It was like he could never go even one conversation without mentioning her.

Slight exaggeration? Maybe. Maybe not.

"Oh yeah, that's cool! Y'know, Gwen told me one time that—"

"You got an A, I knew you could do it! I told you so. Did you know Gwen got A's in—"

"Oh hey, you got your hair cut! Reminds me of that time when me and Gwen—"

At first, it was bearable. Sure, she came up annoyingly often whenever you talked, but she had just left this dimension, never to be seen again. Of course he was gonna miss her.

You laughed at all his stories, listened to every one even though he told the same six or seven ones over and over again. You even grew to like Gwen, as if you'd known her for the short amount of time Miles did, too.

But then two months passed. Then six. Then a whole year. Before you knew it, a year and four months had passed since the departure of Gwen Stacy.

And he still. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

You had tried to understand. You really did.

But you can only hear the same damn jokes so many times before you get a migraine.

Pick any story. You could list off every variation of how Miles would tell it off the top of your head.

Gwen Stacy became the daughter of one of your mom’s friends, so to speak. That one girl in the neighborhood you couldn’t help but envy.

And worst of all, it was like he wished you were her.

Whenever you did something, he would tell you how Gwen could do it better. He would ask you whether or not you thought Gwen would like certain trinkets he found around town, and kept a collection of them in one of his drawers so he could give them to her one day. He was even studying quantum physics instead of art so that he could make his own multiversal gateway - a safe one, so that he could unlock the multiverse, possibly for good.

It hurt when he zoned out while you were telling him about you, thinking about her; your day, what you wanted to study, how your parents were fighting a lot again lately and you were struggling because of it, how you'd joined a new band—

"A band, huh?" Miles suddenly perked up, finally looking up from his sketchbook. "Did I tell you Gwen's in a band? It's called the Mary Janes—"

"Miles would you please stop?"

A pause, both of you mildly surprised at how you'd snapped at him.

The two of you were at your dorm, seated side-by-side on the bed with your legs folded in front of you. It was Friday, the day before Mr. Morales’s pre signing-in party.

The boy looked at you, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

And that tilt with his head - he really didn't know, did he? You couldn't decide if that was better or worse.

"Miles, I know Gwen's in a band," He tried to say something, but you didn't let him speak before you continued. "I know she's a drummer, I know she does ballet, I know she had to shave half of her head because you couldn't control your powers - hell, the whole school knows that—"

"C’mon, don’t bring that up—"

"—I know every single story she told you while she was here, and I know every single detail of what you two did and how you did it. And I know she does everything I can do and she does it better. I’m tired of hearing it, Miles." His eyebrows furrowed, a slightly hurt look flashing across his face. "I’m sorry you miss her and I’m sorry she’s gone, but I just can’t be around you if all you’re gonna do is compare me to her."

A moment of silence settled in the air. You hoped Miles would understand. Surely, he’d see how tedious this was getting.

"All I’m asking is for you to tone it down."

Another beat passes without a word from the boy. He’s looking into your eyes, but it doesn’t seem like he’s all there. Like there’s a world past your irises that he’s seeing for the first time.

"I- I’m sorry, y/n, I can’t do that." Miles finally says, his gaze turning away from yours and to the sketch he’d been working on for the last hour. You glanced down at it as well, the bright blue eyes of the one and only Gwen Stacy meeting yours.

"You’re the only one I can talk to on this," he said quietly, softly closing the sketchbook and tapping a finger nervously on the cover.

"Ganke?"

"Ganke’s fine, he’s great, he’s just.. not someone I can go to for these things."

You took a deep breath, the guilt of having to tell him ‘no’ building up in your chest. You knew his relationship with his parents were complicated at the moment, and he didn’t really have friends outside of you and Ganke. But still.. it was like he wasn’t at all interested in what was going on in your life ever since your initial reconnection.

It wasn’t like you expected a complete 50:50 give-and-take in relationships, but honestly you felt like you were talking to a robot with very limited audio cues.

"Miles, you don’t listen to me anymore. The only time you actually respond to anything I say is when it’s something even remotely related to Gwen."

"That’s not true!" Miles protested. You watched as he tried to find something to argue his point, only to come up empty. His shoulders sagged a little.

"But you gotta understand, Gwen - I’m not gonna see her again, at least until I figure out.. everything." He said in a quiet voice. "I need to talk to someone. Can’t you understand?”

"I’m not trying to shut everything down, I’m just asking you to pay attention to me every once in a while." You sighed. "And if you’e not willing to do that… do you even think of me as a friend?"

Miles left your dorm not long after that little talk, sneaking out the same way he snuck in; through the window. You dug your nails into your palms, breathing in and out in a steady rhythm to push down any sadness you may have felt. It was the second time you and Miles had grown apart, this time maybe your fault a little more than his. It felt like it, anyway.

Still, you felt like you’d done the right thing.

You hoped so, anyway.

It was an hour before Jeff Morales’s technically-not-captain-yet-but-will-be-soon celebration. Your dad and yourself had come early to prepare everything and set up all the decorations. Your mom apparently ‘couldn’t make it’. It was the third time in the last two weeks she cancelled on plans that your dad was involved in.

You stacked red plastic cups on one of the tables, a cooler full of ice and two-litre soda bottles to your left. Miles’s parents had insisted they didn’t need any help, but your dad had insisted right on back that the two of you wanted to. You didn’t mind. You’d cleared your evening for the event anyway, so it’s not like you had anything better to do.

The one thing that made you kind of regret coming was your lack of a jacket. It’d been really sunny in the morning, so you’d figured it would be a warm night. A breeze picked up and sent a light chill through your body, causing you to just barely shiver.

"Mija," Mrs. Morales called, coming up from behind you and laying a hand on your shoulder. "You’re freezing."

"Oh, I’m fine, mama," you replied, smiling at her. She gave you a look that said ‘we both know that isn’t true’.

"Miles might have something in his room," she suggested, "I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if you borrowed one of his clothes."

You thanked her but refused, claiming it might get warmer once the guests started to arrive and the party was at full swing. She must have noticed something was off when she mentioned Miles, because she raised an eyebrow and shook her head lightly before asking,

"What did he do now?"

Either you’re really bad at hiding things from her or her motherly sixth-sense worked on you too. You hesitated, but decided it wouldn’t hurt to tell her. After all, Rio had always been like a mom to you.

"We had a fight - if you can even call it that, anyway, about a girl," you said, fiddling with a plastic cup. "We’re not on real good terms right now, I don’t think…"

Rio looked slightly surprised for a moment, then something seemed to click into place. She sighed and put her hands on your cheeks. "He’s a little bit slow," she said, giving you a sympathetic smile. "But he’ll get there. Eventually."

She then squished your face before immediately letting go, making you laugh. "Now go get yourself a jacket. I don’t want my only daughter to freeze to death."

You held your hands up in surrender as she pointed to the stairs, swiftly making your way down to the Moraleses’ flat. You had a spare key that Miles’s parents had given you a long while ago, when your parents used to have full on screaming matches in the middle of the living room every other day.

Within a couple minutes you’d grabbed one of the dozen coats, hoodies and jackets strewn about Miles’s closet, pulling the soft material over your shoulders as you took a glance around his room. Everything was about the same as you’d seen two or three weeks ago, save for a few new stickers laid about the desk.

There was an all-too-familiar sketchbook on the bed, one similar to what Miles had been scribbling in last night in your dorm, just in a different color. This one looked a bit more used, so you supposed he’d gotten it and packed it full of Gwen Stacy just after she left this reality. The thought put a bitter taste on your tongue.

A half an hour into the party, Miles still hadn’t showed up. He was supposed to be here at least twenty minutes ago, and you could tell his parents were getting both worried and annoyed. Rio asked around for her son as Jeff chatted with some colleagues. Suddenly, an auntie shoved a mic into Mrs. Morales’s hand, drawing everybody’s attention to her by clinking her glass. Jeff looked away in what could only be described as complete horror.

"Um, hi…"

You grinned as she continued with embarrassing stories about her husband, from little anecdotes from when they were dating to how he was almost 10lbs as a baby. It was then that Mr. Morales jumped in, quickly taking the mic away from her and giving his own speech.

"—And to my son…"

You grimaced as he raised his cup, looking around for someone who wasn’t there. The two of you met eyes instead, and you shook your head to tell him he hadn’t showed with an apologetic look. He turned to his wife, only for her to do the same. He cleared his throat before continuing.

"…The reason I do any of this in the first place. So.. I love you Miles."

Afterwards, the DJ put the records on again. People are talking, laughing, congratulating, creating a warm, buzzing atmosphere. You’re dragged away by a few little kids to play with them over by a small cluster of barrels, which they’ve decided is their ‘lair’. You play make believe with them for a little while as their parents stand a bit away with your own dad, occasionally glancing over at you to make sure the kids are behaving.

It’s then that Miles finally shows up, pushing the door open with two boxes in his arms. You follow him through your peripheral vision as he tries to avoid his parents, ultimately failing. You’re not sure what they’re saying, but it doesn’t seem to be going that well. He shows them the contents of his boxes, which doesn’t seem to impress them too much.

After a couple more words, Mr. Morales raises his voice, the DJ trying to divert people’s attention away by upping the volume but ultimately giving up.

"What do you got to tell me so bad?"

"You know what? Never mind."

Miles walked away, pulling his hood up as his dad yelled after him about him being grounded for two months. Must’ve been really bad, huh?

You waited for the music to come back on before you made your way to the exit, ruffling one of the little kids’ hair as he skittered away with his sister. You’re just going to check on him for a minute, just to see if he’s okay. You can do that… right? I mean sure, it might be awkward since things had ended like that last night, but still.

No one else was going to.

You let yourself into the flat once again, approaching Mile’s room with soft footsteps. You’re just outside the door when—

"Are these your drawings?"

You stop dead in your tracks. Your heart freezes right along with you. For a moment, you felt like a deer in headlights.

A feeling crawls its way under your skin, cold and slippery. You don’t know how you know, but you’re absolutely positive.

"Missed you too."

Gwen Stacy.

You’re on your way home, your hands rubbing up and down your arms to try to warm yourself up during the walk. You lived a little while away from Miles’s place, but it’s nothing you can’t walk.

You’d left the jacket on the Morales’ couch, turning on your heel and leaving the moment you heard her voice.

Damn it.

When had she gotten back? How had she gotten back? What was Miles’s reaction?

What were they doing now?

…Did you really want to know?

As your brain clouded over with questions, you took a wrong turn. Maybe two. Or three. Honestly, you didn’t know. Once you realized that this definitely wasn’t your neighborhood, you stopped yourself mid-step, looking around to see if anything was familiar at all.

Your eyes settled on a building, as there really wasn’t anything other than that around here other than some roads and bridges. One of the windows were glowing.

Then the whole structure began to rumble.

The ground beneath your feet started to turn… black…?

Wha—

You fell.

Not for too long, but you did.

You dropped around six feet onto hard concrete, twisting your ankle in the process. You cried out in pain and surprise.

"What the—?"

"Y/n?"

You looked up at that. You knew that voice.

Except, you didn’t.

The first thing you noticed is that this definitely was not the place you were in before. This place was more narrow, more dark. Light rain pattered on your skin as your hands supported your sitting position, wondering what the hell was going on.

The person who’d said your name was at the entrance to the alley you’d been.. teleported? to.

They took hesitant steps over to you, and, for some reason, you didn’t feel scared that this complete stranger had cornered you in a place you’d never even seen before.

Maybe the voice is what made you think it was alright.

Or maybe it was his face, which made your heart stop its primary function for the second time today.

"Miles?"

But he wasn’t Miles. At least.. not your Miles. This one was skinnier, just a little shorter. His accent had more of a Spanish touch to it and, most of all, his hair was braided into two sections that reached just below his shoulders.

No. He was very much not your Miles Morales.

Nevertheless, you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. There was something in his eyes — regret? Happiness? Sadness? Anger? Confusion? Probably all of the above.

He got closer, and closer, and closer. Once he reached where you were half-laying, he crouched down and tilted his umbrella until it sheltered your body more than his.

"…Are you hurt?" He asked, giving you a once-over. You just nodded, still putting all the pieces together.

Had you—

Did you—?

The boy in front of you studied your face for a little while, but then ultimately shook his head and shrugged off his jacket, handing it over to you.

"Come on. It’s cold outside."

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joequiinn · 1 month ago

Text

When the Wolfsbane Blooms | part i | e.m. x reader au

Summary | September 1916. Edward Munson is back in Hawkins after 13 years, returning to live with his uncle who serves as groundskeeper to the Talbot Estate. Upon his return it’s as if nothing has changed... except the Talbot daughter, who wasn’t nearly so striking back when they were children. But a strange danger seems to coincide with Eddie’s arrival, and all it takes is one fateful night to expose him to exactly what this danger is…

Tags & Warnings | 18+, angsty horror romance, fem reader, depictions of violence and death, smut and nsfw themes, reader last name for plot purposes, use of some 3rd person narrative, historical inaccuracies

A.N | Sooo, this was supposed to be a oneshot for Halloween, but the plot got away from me, and now we've got a big fic. Due to the premise and time period, Eddie may be ooc, but I tried my best to make him fit the era, and the vibes are so worth it!

W.C | 10.3k

!! MINORS DNI !!

“The way you walked was thorny…”

August 1900

The Talbot Estate was a wonder in the late summer, its grounds awash with blooming colors of calendulas and borages, of dahlias and cosmos. To you, it seemed the soil was rich with magic and splendor, for how could the hands of man ever maintain something quite so beautiful? It couldn’t be the hard work of the groundskeeper, always watering and weeding, slaving away under the hot sun for the sake of your family’s gardens - no, it was clearly the power of fairies or sprites that grew the flowers so vivid and the trees so high.

Although the extensive gardens were forever stunning, you favored the surrounding fields as your playground instead, the wild and untamed things far more exciting than the lavish flowerbeds and neat rows of vegetables. It was the rolling hills and woodlands of the seemingly endless Talbot Estate where wonder truly lied, although many days you may have been the only one to see it. Surrounded by the tall grass and wildflowers and imposing trees, you were an explorer - not a mere girl of eight, but a true adventurer of the world, awaiting her next great discovery.

When the days were warm and the sun was high, you could always be found skipping over tangling tree roots or lying amongst the wild helenium. And such is where you were found this lovely August afternoon, snuck upon by the groundskeeper's ward, Edward, the only person in the entire world perhaps more rascally than yourself; or so you thought, as your whole world had only ever consisted of your family grounds and the nearby town of Hawkins.

“You’ll be stung to death if you lie here all day.” The boy’s playful words startled you out of your lazy reverie, having been soothed nearly to sleep by the buzzing of insects around your head. He plopped down to sit beside you, his knobby knee bumping your leg with impatient, childish glee. With a smile wide enough to show off your two missing teeth, you sat up eagerly with a stretch of your arms, your dress wrinkled and the hem stained green from the grass; grass so tall you were both hidden from sight, like two predators stalking their prey.

“The bees wouldn’t dare sting me, we’re good friends.” You argued, delighting in the way Edward grinned back at you and your fanciful way of thinking. He made a conspiratory look, that familiar face he always pulled when he was about to share a tall tale - Edward had always been a storyteller, and you the ever attentive listener.

“You think of them as your friends?” He leaned forward, and so you did the same, coming close enough that he could whisper his closely guarded secret, “No, they fool you. Their queen has it out for you, you know, she’s instructed they play nice to lull you into a false sense of security.”

You giggled into your dirt-covered hand, Edward’s eyes twinkling at how easily he could amuse you, “And what does the queen have against me?”

Although he was only nine years old (nearly ten, he had a habit of reminding you recently), Edward had such control of his face that sometimes you thought he was ninety. His expression became gravely serious, he looked around as if fearful the bees may hear the two of you, leaning even closer while cupping his hand around your ear to keep those pesky eavesdroppers from listening.

“She is jealous. You are like Snow White, ‘a thousand times more fair.’”

Your cheeks grew hot, so easily charmed by Edward’s words; you hid behind your hands, smile large and eyes shining. His own ears were pink despite the proud, confident look on his face; you stared at one another, both nearly too embarrassed to speak.

“Eddie, you are a terrible liar.” You said with a grin, nervously picking at the grass by your feet, getting its threads stuck beneath your fingernails.

“Liar?” He questioned mischievously, “But it was no exaggeration.”

You stared at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. You were too young to truly understand the vastness of emotions blooming between you two this past summer, to know exactly the words for why you looked upon this silly boy as if he were the sun. But you were intelligent enough to know that you felt for him differently than you had before, to know that perhaps this was some child-like semblance of puppy love.

You carefully glanced up at him through your lashes, another conspiring look passing between the two of you, “If you’re caught speaking like that, Edward Munson, they may force you to marry me.”

With a charmed smile, Edward shook his head, eyes alight as he stared back at you, “Oh, Ms. Talbot, I don’t think they’ll allow it.”

“Good.” You said defiantly, rising to your feet and dusting off your skirts, useless as it may be. You squinted against the sunlight as you looked across the fields; your family estate in the distance was like a foreboding beacon, one you quickly turned your gaze from, “Marriage wouldn’t suit me, I have the whole world to see, and a husband would simply hold me back.”

Edward stood with you, the breeze ruffling his hair as he stretched his arms up in the air, fingers splaying wide as if he could brush the clouds in the sky, “But do we not have the whole world here at our fingertips already?”

You two shared an innocent smile, and without a word of warning you quickly spun around and began traipsing through the flowers and weeds, happily going along knowing that Edward was sure to follow. His footfall was merely a step behind you, although with his long legs he could very easily surpass you in stride should he choose. But dutifully he allowed you to lead, and so you pumped your arms and legs a little faster.

“And what is here that I can’t find out there?” You questioned eagerly, bursting out of the grassiest part of the field which neighbored a small pond, one of many scattered about the expansive Talbot Estate. Bugs skated across the water’s surface, a bird glided past your head, a frog croaked somewhere from within a log.

“I’d bet there’s acres of this land that you haven’t seen.” Edward challenged, and you wondered if he’d grown taller recently - why did it feel as if you had to crane your head to look at him more than you did yesterday? You crossed your arms with a smart look, suspecting that he knew something that you didn’t, if that mischievous twinkle in his eye was any indicator.

“And you have?”

The excited smile that overtook his entire face was only confirmation that he had something to share, some new discovery that he was certain you’d absolutely delight in, “Do you know there’s a chapel on your family’s grounds?”

You made a curious face, having never heard about it before. Where could it possibly be hiding, and why had you not previously known of it? You shook your head with disbelief, although you were certainly eager for Edward to follow through and reveal this chapel’s secret hiding place to you.

“If we have a chapel, why hasn’t my father ever shown it to me?” You asked defiantly, debating that perhaps Edward was trying to trick you.

He gave the kind of noncommittal shrug that only a child could, his face showing annoyance that you didn’t believe him, “Maybe he doesn’t know either.”

“But he knows everything.” You argued with silly logic, causing Edward to laugh a little. That was the difference between eight years old and nearly ten years old, the difference between wealth and poverty - he’d stopped believing that his father knew everything long ago.

“I’ll show you.” He insisted stubbornly, although the light in his rich brown eyes gave away his excitement. Your own innocent expression grew wide with exhilaration, eager to see this supposed chapel with your own two eyes.

All it took was for you to nod once, and Edward grabbed your hand, running clumsily over rocks and through brush towards the most northern end of the Talbot property. It wasn’t an easy area to trek, less kempt than the rest of the estate, trees growing taller and wider as it edged along the expansive forest. Perhaps that’s why you’d never seen this chapel, as the northern property seemed far and wide, intimidating even the most adventurous of small children.

But with Edward’s companionship, the journey was exciting, full of wonder and endless curiosity. Eventually, you tugged your hand from his own, struggling to keep up with his longer legs, although you didn’t dare stop moving, else you might lose him amongst the brush and trees. You two laughed at nothing, simply happy for each other’s company, running and running for what felt like an eternity.

The roll of hills slowed you down, the tangle of branches caused brief pauses, but eventually Edward came to a stop, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. His cheeks were splotchy pink as his chest moved quickly, and you yourself had to sit upon a stump thanks to the burning of your calves. From your vantage point, you looked around, a chapel nowhere in sight, and you very nearly whipped your disappointed gaze onto Edward, to scold him for tricking you like this.

That is, until you finally saw it.

Peaking over bright green leaves, a stone spire just barely protruded, practically lost among the foliage. You gawked while rising back to your feet, both shocked and excited to see that Edward was, in fact, speaking the truth. The two of you shared a look, his face satisfied to be proven right, and you once more smiled from ear to ear before stomping down the hill to find the rest of the building.

The chapel stood derelict and decrepit, clearly forgotten about after what must have been a long time. The bricks were covered in moss and lichen, ivy crawling its way up corners and railings, abandoned birds’ nests littering windowsills and the belfry. Even from here, you could see that parts of the roof had caved in, that pieces of stone had worn away from the hands of time.

But curiously, the flowers appeared well-kept, planted fresh in spite of the chapel’s abandonment. It was a flower you recognized from your books of botany, although you weren’t quite certain yet which plant it was - amongst your books there were many beautifully drawn depictions of purple flowers upon sprawling stalks. What would compel someone to return to this ramshackle structure simply to maintain its blooms, you wondered.

You and Edward shared a look of both fear and excitement - although it was unspoken, you both had the sense that you weren’t supposed to be here, and that sent a buzz through your entire body. There was something daunting about the chapel, perhaps something even dangerous, and yet the thrill of that risk was all too gripping to ignore.

You tried to put on a brave face, even as you reached for Edward’s hand again; you held your chin high as if to hide your nerves, acting as if you grabbed his hand not for your sake, but for his. And he said nothing on the matter, squeezing your fingers in his own for reassurance, the both of you slowly approaching the imposing structure.

Those curious purple flowers kept your attention as you drew closer, the way they were planted all around the edges of the chapel - they were practically four walls of their own, a fence of sorts as if to adorn what was housed inside. Drawing closer, Edward reached his fingertips towards the enchanting petals, but you tugged at his other hand, as if the imminent danger suddenly jogged your little botanist memory.

“They’re poisonous.” The words fell delicately from your lips, Edward giving you a quizzical look as the pair of you stopped. You studied the flowers with trepidation, shrinking away from their reach, “Wolfsbane.”

Of course you should have remembered that sooner - your father had an entire encyclopedia of poisonous plants that you found far more fascinating than all the rest. You’d always had an interest in plantlife, even before you could read, so as you grew your father showed you the corner of the library dedicated to such a subject, allowing you to marvel over the pictures while tripping over the Latin names scrawled upon the pages. That book of poisonous plants was one of your favorites, perhaps because of all the beautiful colors that masked the dangers lying just within - but you were too young to read into the deeper meaning of that.

Edward continued the trek forward, tugging at your hand so that you would follow. When you reached the rotted, termite infested doors, he gave a firm push, but they wouldn’t budge. With a determined furrow of his brow, Edward looked around for another way in, but even the shattered windows were too high for you to safely climb. So, he tried forcing the door again; it was once you began to help that it finally began to scrape along the stone floor, the sound grating to your ears as the two of you huffed with each insistent push.

Finally, there was enough space for the two of you to slink inside, and you shared a daunted look with one another now that the path was clear.

“You go first.” You whispered, and Edward’s eyes widened a little, affronted at your instruction.

“Me?”

“Eddie, please.” You requested, swallowing nervously. You looked around, as if fearful that you’d be caught now that you’d gotten this far into your journey.

Edward sucked in his lips and looked at the gap in the door, into the imposing darkness, debating if it was too late to turn back now. He slowly returned his gaze to you, as if afraid that if he turned his back on the dark, it may swallow him whole.

“Hold my hand.” He requested, and you obliged without question or hesitation. You both pressed your backs to the door, shuffling in one right behind the other, feet carefully gliding as you went together into the foreboding chapel.

Despite the fearful drumming of your heart, you were put at ease by sunlight streaming in through the deteriorated roof and ruined windows. You exhaled deeply, sharing another look with Edward as you unclasped your clammy hands.

“Nothing to be afraid of.” He said with ease, as if to calm the both of you down. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a weak grin before you finally looked around the small chapel around you.

The floor was littered with dust and debris, scattered with feathers and leaves. The pews were in tattered pieces, the podium left abandoned on its side; one iron candelabrum still stood tall, melted wax molded upon its holders, but its brethren had fallen much like everything else. You gasped a little at the sight of bones near your feet, but held in the desire to shout with disgust. But then your eyes caught a dried, coppery trail from the bones to the door just behind you, and your heart rate spiked with puzzled fear.

Edward slowly walked past the shredded, crumbling pews, taking careful steps as he approached what was once the altar; where candles should have rested, instead there were more bones and abandoned bits of nature. But you could tell, even while watching his back, that something peculiar caught his eye, and you bit your lip with hesitation.

“Eddie…?”

He reached out towards the ground beside the altar, the sound of scrapping metal making you cringe as he picked something up. He turned around with the cumbersome material in hand, revealing to you a rusted chain weight down by a shackle. Another pang of panic drummed in your chest, finding this place no longer exciting and worth exploring, but rather ominous and frightening - you were not supposed to be here.

Letting your eyes wander, you realized that wasn’t the only chain, that another could be found just opposite of where Edward stood; he seemed to realize the same thing, looking back at you with alarmed eyes, although this place made the darkness of his eyes unnerving instead of comforting.

“I think there’s a reason your dad never brought you here…” His voice was edgy, face appearing nearly gaunt in the low lighting.

“Maybe he doesn’t know.” You countered, although it was clear that you’d only said that for your own comfort. Something told you that your father was most certainly aware of whatever happened in this chapel, although you weren’t sure how you could tell such a thing. A shiver ran up your spine, a sensation so cold that you wrapped your arms around yourself, nervously digging your fingernails into your skin, “I think we should go.”

Edward nodded even as he continued to look around, as if he couldn’t help his innate curiosity to see more, to understand what secrets lie here on Talbot property - you could see in his face that despite the potential peril, he was desperate to know more.

Behind you, the door abruptly scratched agonizingly along the floor, causing you to scream and Edward to drop the chains with a raucous clang as he shouted. In the same breath, you attempted to run towards Edward while spinning to face the sudden danger, causing yourself to trip and fall to the floor. The palms of your hands scraped across stone and dirt and bone, instantly sore as you scrambled towards the altar on all fours.

But before you could even make it a couple feet, something grabbed the back of your dress and pulled, causing you to shout again; you briefly caught a glimpse of Edward’s face in the chaos, and although there was fear alight in his eyes, it certainly wasn’t the kind of terror that you had expected.

“What in God’s name are you two doing here?” Your father’s distraught voice bellowed in your ear, ringing menacingly off the walls. He forced you to your feet with another strong yank, turning you around to face him; you assumed that his face would be red with anger, that his eyes would be full of rage, that his nostrils would flare with fury. But instead, what you saw was horror.

The chaos of the moment made your head spin, and suddenly tears were pricking at your eyes, lips quivering with shaken breath; you cried even as you tried to fight it, eyes locked with your father’s as his alarm melted into worry.

“We didn’t know--!” You attempted to explain, but your emotions made you stutter and trip over your words, making a hiccup leap from your throat.

Your father’s eyes were so caring and apprehensive as he knelt before you, large hands gently grasping yours for reassurance; but as his gaze looked past your shoulder and towards Edward, who was still frozen with fear at the altar, something changed. There was a darkness that seemed to suddenly shroud his eyes, a cruelty knitting his brows and a foreboding suspicion twisting his face. The expression was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, as if your father was seeing something that you didn’t.

Your father rose to his feet, his posture menacing as outrage overtook his face, “You brought her here!”

He released your hands, pointing an accusatory finger at Edward, whose hands were trembling, face pale with alarm. Your father’s shout caused your blubbering to grow worse, but he stepped around you as if you were forgotten, moving as if he intended on causing harm.

“Do you have any idea what kind of danger is in this place? And you brought her here!?”

You watched the confrontation with absolutely helplessness, feeling terror at the sight of your father acting so savage. Frantically, Edward looked around in search of some means of escape, knowing he didn’t stand a chance trying to run past your father and out the door. Your ears rang, vision blurry from tears, as you prayed that nothing bad would happen to him, that maybe your father would show mercy despite his animal-like aggression.

“I-- I didn’t…” Edward was at a loss for words, far too terrified to defend himself. You saw his eyes flick towards one of the shattered windows, clearly gauging if he could make the climb, if he could make the jump; your father saw this too, taking one large, threatening step in the direction of the window to flex his power over the situation.

“I always knew you were trouble, but I could never see it until now.” Your father insulted through his teeth as if he’d had some kind of revelation, his body tense with anger.

“I’m not--” Edward sounded so weak, so petrified; another hiccup interrupted your crying, a weak sound whining in your throat as if to protest your father’s actions.

“Aren’t you?” Did your father nearly sound amused by that? Why did it seem that his words were laced with a mocking malice, as if there were a smile upon his face?

Despite knowing the odds weren’t in his favor, Edward made an abrupt dash for the broken window, using the pews beneath as leverage to jump up and grab hold of the sill littered with broken stained glass. Your father moved only a second later, ever determined to grab the offensive boy and teach him a lesson.

But by some miracle, Edward managed to climb up despite crying out in pain, glass stabbing into his palms as he yanked himself up and over, the shattered remains of the window ripping his pants as he briefly straddled the sill before dropping out of your sight. Your father was just moments too late, angrily clenching his fist around the air in front of him with an enraged growl.

You stared out the window at the green leaves swaying tranquilly in the wind, as if to contradict what had just happened here; you sighed with relief that Edward managed to get away. Tears continued to stream down your face, but you felt numb, as if all the anxiety and fear had drained you of anything else.

When your father turned back around, his expression was far too calm considering the circumstances of what had just transpired; he took deep breaths through his nose, fighting to compose himself. It almost looked as if shame flashed across his eyes as he looked pitifully down at you, as if he realized that he’d behaved dreadfully, frighteningly, that he’d acting like an animal in front of you.

He approached and scooped you into his arms; despite everything, you still clung to him, resting your head on his shoulder as your crying slowly began to mellow out.

“I’m so sorry, my darling, I’m so sorry…” He repeated the apology over and over and over again as he carefully stepped out of the chapel, mindful of protecting your small body as he moved lightly on his feet. He briskly walked down the uneven cobbled steps and past the blockade of wolfsbane as he comfortingly rubbed your back, his voice attempting to sooth your tears.

Despite their dangerous, poisonous nature, you found comfort in the flowers’ purple-hued petals.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

September 1916

Eddie Munson would never have predicted he’d return to Hawkins one day; a few years ago, he would have bet all the money in the world that he’d never see his hometown again. No, once his father showed up following a five year disappearance, insisting that his young son hit the road with him, little Edward barely looked back. It wasn’t for a hatred of his home, nor for any troubles with his uncle, the man who practically raised him - but it was some youthful whimsy and desire, his childlike need to see what was beyond his front door. He was only twelve when his father returned, and as such he thought there would be great adventures to be had, falling for all the promises of happiness laid at his feet.

Of course, it didn’t take long for trouble to start. It seemed that everywhere Alan and Edward Munson went, bad things followed - an arrest in one city, a get-rich-quick scheme in another, a string of debt so long that they’d never see the end of it. As a boy, Eddie hadn’t quite realized how bad it was; but as the years took their toll, he found himself longing for a way back home.

He missed the cozy little cottage shared with his uncle, the smell of the gardens just yards from their front porch, the joys once shared with the Talbot daughter who he had no right to be friends with. All that time away had nearly caused him to forget his childhood friend, his companion in an otherwise lonely world; but once he began to crave his home in Hawkins, Eddie often found himself reveling in the memories of their days spent together.

The familiarity and comfort of home had been calling out to Eddie, it had become a beacon of hope as times with his father grew worse and worse, his tolerance for this life wearing thin. So, Eddie came up with a scheme of his own, hiding money in tricky ways because his father knew all the usual tactics, mapping out which city they blew through would make his departure the easiest and the quickest.

Really, he could have left at any time - he was a man now, he no longer had to do as he was told, no longer needed permission before making decisions for himself. But Al was a trickster of a man, so much so that he’d find a way to manipulate his boy into staying simply because Eddie was a valuable asset to him.

They were up in Michigan when Eddie finally made his move as his father slept off his drunken haze in the dingy boarding house they’d taken residence in the past month. Eddie had been writing to Wayne for some weeks now, informing the man of his plan and its progression; although Eddie feared his abandoned uncle would want nothing to do with him, the words of forgiveness in his letters were a reassurance on Eddie’s doubtful heart.

When Eddie and Al first settled in upon their arrival in Michigan, Eddie took what chances he could to call the Talbot Estate, hoping to speak with his uncle in preparation - it was shocking to him when his first call was answered by Magda, the elderly housekeeper who had worked for the family Eddie’s entire life. Again, he felt trepidation, but the woman seemed pleased to hear from him, although once she’d been informed of Eddie’s return, she worried over Sir Talbot’s reaction.

That nearly made Eddie’s heart drop into his stomach, fearful that he wouldn’t be welcomed back simply because of a foolish day from sixteen years ago. As if able to read his mind - which was always a startling trait of Magda’s - she reassured him that she’d discuss the subject with her boss, that she’d put the man’s mind at ease. Of all the staff of the estate, Sir Talbot trusted Magda with his life, and if there was anyone that could change his opinion about a matter, it would certainly be her.

And so with everything set, Eddie left for the train station without a single look back, accepting easily that he’d likely never see his father again.

Once he set foot on the depot platform in Hawkins following a near two-day trip, Eddie was struck by how little his hometown had changed - yes, Hawkins was keeping up with the times as best it could, but it was as if the air felt exactly as it did the day he left in 1903. And as he rode through town alongside a farmer willing to give him a lift, he took in that comforting familiarity of the buildings and the roads and the people who hadn’t seemed to change at all.

As a boy, he hadn’t left the Talbot Estate often - Wayne’s job was sometimes all-consuming, so if Eddie did come into Hawkins proper, it was at the side of one of the maids collecting goods, and eager little Eddie was always first to volunteer his assistance. When Wayne was so busy that he couldn’t keep an eye on his boy, the maids took care of Eddie, giving him tasks to stay occupied, teaching him skills that may or may become handy in the future; if it weren’t for one maid in particular, Eddie probably would have been illiterate for half his life.

The streets of Hawkins seemed fresh with new cobbles, many shops with new coats of paint, and more people seemed to congest every direction that he looked - Eddie knew Hawkins had changed more than he thought, and yet that sense of home made it look exactly as it did thirteen years ago.

The farmer dropped Eddie off outside the tall, rod iron gates of the Talbot Estate, their size far less imposing now that he was no longer a child, although there was always something ominous about this property. It was as if there was a darkness surrounding his childhood home, one that only he could ever see, some mystery that he didn’t have all the clues to.

Eddie had to take a moment to simply stare at the estate - at the mansion sat atop a hill, at the surrounding fields losing their color with the arrival of autumn. He smiled fondly to himself despite the intimidating quality that seemed to hang in the air - this was his home and nothing made him happier than being back here.

With a sigh of anticipation, Eddie hiked his bag back up onto his shoulder and forced open one of the gates, stones crunching underfoot as he began to make the short hike up the property and towards the plot of land dedicated to staff housing. As he followed the twists and turns of the driveway, the mansion grew more imposing, Eddie’s gaze jumping from window to window, wondering if someone was watching him or if that was a silly sensation made up in his head.

The staff homes were all small cottages clustered to the northwest of the property - not a terribly far distance from the front gates, but it felt much farther on foot. Eventually, the top of the roofs came into sight, one chimney lazily blowing smoke; Eddie’s steps grew faster, stride longer, as he all but rushed towards the family front steps of his childhood home.

With it being mid-morning,Wayne was nowhere to be found - considering just how much of the property he maintained, mostly on his own, Eddie could guess at least half a dozen places that his uncle may be right now.

So, he deposited his feeble belongings atop the cot that was waiting for him, and approached the Talbot mansion, suddenly feeling a nervous tightening in his chest as he went - would Sir Talbot still frown upon him as if he were trouble just waiting to happen? Would his daughter shun Eddie due to too many years apart? He had to steady himself as he grew closer, taking deep breaths and reminding himself not to overthink as he rang the doorbell - Magda had assured him things would be fun, and that woman never went back on her words.

The butler who answered was a new face to Eddie, which meant he had to explain himself and his presence - he had hoped that perhaps Murray would still be on staff, as it would have been comforting for familiar faces to be greeting him instead. He was half-tempted to ask for Magda purely to help himself relax, but he thought it best to first reacquaint himself with Sir Talbot, considering that he’d be living on the man’s property once again should all go well.

So, introductions aside, the new butler allowed Eddie entry, instructing him to wait in the front hall before disappearing in the direction of Sir Talbot’s office. The mansion hadn’t changed one bit, the art on the walls the same pieces Eddie had seen dozens of times before, the carpet beneath his feet the exact one that he accidentally tracked mud on when he was first learning how to garden. And yet, the familiarity did not stop the drumming of his heart, the anxious little twitch of his hands - ever since that frightening summer day so many years ago, Eddie had never quite looked upon Sir Lawrence Talbot the same way.

Eddie was eventually escorted to the extravagant office, one of the only rooms in the home he hadn’t seen before; the butler announced his arrival, bowed his head, and briskly left the two men alone. Before Sir Talbot sat a stack of papers that he stared at harshly, but it was evident that his mind was elsewhere; nervously, Eddie assumed the man was simply collecting himself before daring to have this inevitable conversation.

When Sir Talbot finally looked over the frame of his glasses, the look in his eyes was nearly startling to Eddie - there was something unspoken in that stare, some kind of secret in the man’s eyes. Talbot’s demeanor became chilly as he studied Eddie closely, his gaze harsh and cutthroat as he looked the younger man up and down in scrutiny.

Growing nervous, Eddie nodded his head in greeting, hoping that his anxieties were written too plainly across his face, “Sir.”

Silently, Talbot looked him over again, assessing the man who he last saw as a boy. When he finally locked his eyes with Eddie’s again, they were coldly unreadable.

“Edward Munson… how you’ve changed.” Sir Talbot finally spoke, his voice still that same strong timber that it used to be. He rose to his feet, removing his glasses with a faint sigh; Eddie was almost dismayed to see that this man was still just as tall as ever, for he’d led himself to believe that Talbot only seemed tall because all those years ago he was an adolescent.

Keeping his shoulders squared and chin high, Eddie kept his eyes on the older man, who rounded his massive oak desk in a slow approach, Eddie suddenly feeling like prey. Once the two men were standing mere feet across from each other, there was a pause, a tense stillness in the air as Eddie held his breath in anticipation.

Wordlessly, Sir Talbot offered his hand - it was not a warm and welcoming gesture, but Eddie knew better than to turn it down. So, Eddie moved to shake the man’s hand, however, Talbot grabbed him by the wrist and turned his palm to face the ceiling; his grip wasn’t rough, but it was certainly insistent. With a confused look, Eddie watched Talbot’s face - the other man’s eyes studied his skin as if he knew palmistry, as if there was some hidden message in the lines of Eddie’s hand.

Talbot’s sharp eyes met Eddie’s abruptly, and the younger hoped that his face conveyed no fear or trepidation. For what felt like an eternity, they stared at one another, Eddie unable to comprehend what could possibly be going on. But a moment later, Sir Talbot nodded as if in confirmation to himself, and finally pressed his palm into Eddie’s for a firm shake.

“Welcome back.” Talbot’s words were far from warm, but he seemed a touch less guarded. Eager to please, Eddie nodded back in thanks as Talbot took back his hand.

“It is good to be back, sir.” Eddie confirmed with a nod, trying to ignore the trepidation he still felt strong as ever. Again, there was something in the man’s gaze that kept Eddie on edge, something that was simply unnerving, “I informed Magda that I’d be returning, although I couldn’t give her a day.”

Talbot nodded while his eyes moved about his office, as if he didn’t want to be looking at Eddie for longer than he had to; there was tension in his shoulders, “I’d heard your return was inevitable.”

Was Talbot always so short with his words? Eddie couldn’t quite remember. Trying to bolster his confidence, Eddie nodded again and took a deep breath, “I’ve come to you first in hopes of offering my services around the estate - I have no intention of living on your land for free, I am no longer a child.”

“No, you certainly aren’t.” Talbot answered in a slow, biting tone that Eddie couldn’t identify. The elder was gazing out the large window, eyes blindly staring out as if in contemplation, hopefully considering Eddie’s offer. When he looked back at the young man, Talbot had a curious expression across his features, “What skills have you acquired while away?”

Eddie swallowed; although he’d been rehearsing this for half the train ride home, it was still so different to be confronted with the actually conversation, to be confronted with the ever imposing man of the house, “I’m knowledgeable in mechanical and electrical devices; I can do any and all hard labor as need be; I’m well acquainted with motor vehicles, both as a driver and as a repairman.”

That last point seemed to catch Talbot’s interest, and so Eddie paused to allow the man to speak, “Motor vehicles? Well, that is a valuable skill.”

Eddie nodded - as motorcars began to grow in popularity these past few years, he’d been more than aware of what opportunities that may offer. Everyone wanted a car, wanted the fun and the luxury of a motor vehicle over a horse and carriage, and so Eddie had decided a couple years back that he would become an expert as best he could, would gain as much knowledge on this new technology as possible.

Talbot continued, “I will not promise you a job, Mr. Munson, however, my own motor car has been troublesome as of late - should you be able to resolve the problem, you have a job here at Talbot Estate.”

Eddie’s expression brightened, although he didn��t want to look too eager - he didn’t want to get his hopes up now that he was offered this challenge. But he gave a quick nod, already thrilling at the prospect of a potential job here at home.

“I’m more than happy to take a look; I can start right now, if you’d like.”

Sir Talbot’s face was once more curious, intrigued to see what Eddie could do, intrigued to see what kind of man he’d become. Talbot’s eyes narrowed slightly in consideration, before he, too, nodded shortly.

“Very well - have Douglas show you to the garage.” Talbot returned to his chair, although he did not yet take a seat, as if he refused to relax until Eddie was out of the room.

“Thank you, sir.” Eddie dipped his head a little, prepared to take his leave.

“And Munson?”

That serious, intimidating tone made Eddie’s heart skip, “Yes, sir?”

Talbot leveled him with a grave look, eyes fierce as they pierced straight into Eddie’s soul, one last domineering show before they parted ways, “Do behave yourself around my daughter. You hear me?”

Nervously, Eddie nodded, swallowing slightly as a cocktail of apprehension and excitement whirled around in his chest at the mention of the Talbot girl, his long lost friend. How much had she changed? How much had she stayed the same? Eddie was oh-so anxious to know, but now was not the time to get roused about it, “Yes, sir.”

Talbot stared for another long, tense moment before giving a small nod of his own, finally lowering back into his stiff leather chair, eyes returning to the paperwork scattered out in front of him as if it took precedence over the man before him, “You may go.”

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Early afternoon and the sun was high, warm in that cozy way that only seemed to happen in late-September once the season changed. It wasn’t the kind of sweltering warmth felt in the summer months, nor was it laced with the hint of approaching winter winds - it was a stillness, as if everything in the world had come to a pause to enjoy the orange sunlight while it would last.

Eddie had been fussing with Talbot’s motor car for over an hour now, tuning up every little thing just to make sure it was in pristine condition - he had to impress the man, after all, and didn’t want to leave a single stone unturned in his work. The vehicle was a virtually brand-new model, as it was undeniably different from those that Eddie had worked on before. Initially, that made him nervous, made him fearful that he wouldn’t have the right tools or knowledge to make any improvements. But once he began poking around at the motor, it was like an intuitive instinct made this new car make sense, and he became lost in his work.

Between the heat and the effort, Eddie’s body was already sticky with sweat; he’d stripped his coat and his vest and his tie, rolled up the sleeves of his white linen shirt, but it was only temporary relief. His hands were covered in grime, and more than once he swiped at his hair or rubbed sweat from his brow only to curse, knowing that trailing his fingers there would be streaks of oil left behind.

As Eddie grumbled to himself, focusing intently as he knelt beside the engine, the sounds of another car driving up the gravel met his ears, and as it drew closer cheerful voices accompanied it. Perhaps the help returning from town, or a visitor joining Talbot for luncheon; regardless, Eddie kept his head down, nearly done with the task he was doing.

The vehicle came to a grinding stop, although the engine continued running, a blend of voices eagerly overlapping one another, laughter harmonizing in a joyous, youthful way that made Eddie furrow his brow. Reaching a good stopping point, he set down his tool and stood, looking out from the open garage door to assess the visitors to the estate; he reached for a rag, already filthy, and attempted to clean his hands in vain.

The driver was a young man accompanied by three women, all of whom appeared near Eddie in age; a realization struck him in that moment, his heart beating faster as his eyes began to dart from face to face, searching for those ever familiar eyes, that ever comforting smile. The group in the car was chaotic, high energy as they made one another laugh, throwing their arms around with hyperactivity as they continued whatever stories and jokes they’d been telling on the drive up. For a moment, the disarray was distracting, but of course, it should have been obvious which of the three women was the one he was searching for--

The woman in the lilac sundress; purple has always been your favorite color, after all.

Eddie took a sharp breath once he finally had the chance to study you; thirteen years felt like it was melting away in an instant as he took in how you’d changed, how you’d stayed the same.

Your hair was still that same lovely color, especially out here in the sunlight. Your smile was still dazzling, bright enough to light up an entire room, especially now that you’d grown into it. Your body language was still as light and carefree as ever, having not lost any of the joyousness of your youth. Although you were one of three women in the vehicle, you radiated in a way that made you the only person Eddie could see;hHe felt his jaw growing slack as he stared, unable to fight the nervous skipping of his heart, the anxious tingling in his limbs.

You were beautiful, and it very nearly took him aback. It was different from the beauty you had in your youth - when Eddie left, you were only ten and he would’ve deemed you as ‘cute.’ For all of your childhood, he’d heard many people exclaim “she’ll be such a vision one day” or “what a gorgeous lady she’ll become,” but at the time he could not have made such bold predictions.

But now you were a woman, a stunning woman who certainly had no right being so damn lovely to look at. Now, Eddie understood what all those people were talking about when you two were just children, because the proof was right here before him in staggering beauty.

Eddie hadn’t realized he was staring until one of your friends finally noticed him within the shade of the garage, drawing the entire group’s attention. And when you set your sparkling eyes on him, he froze, his tongue heavy with nerves and limbs unable to move. You arched a lovely, curious eyebrow, clearly unfamiliar with this man standing in your family’s garage.

As you stood to climb over your friends and out of the vehicle, you curiously eyed this mystery man, wondering if your father had hired more staff or perhaps called for a specialist to deal with his damn car. The man was covered in grease from head to toe, his shoes scuffed and his curly hair becoming unruly from sweat; the buttons of his shirt were undone halfway done his chest, which was heaving from the labor he’d inevitably been hard at doing. Despite the oddness of his attentive staring, you couldn’t help but think that he was certainly an attractive man, whoever the hell he was.

His expression seemed dumbfounded as he stared at you, as if you were some specter that he couldn’t quite make sense of. But there was something about that look that reminded you of someone, that seemed familiar although you couldn’t place why.

Your name being spoken drew your attention, your friends saying their farewells and reminding you about dinner plans you had for tomorrow night; you smiled largely, confirming you wouldn’t forget, as you closed the car door behind you. Billy ripped out of the driveway, just like he always did, far too fond of fast driving and reckless behavior; the speed of the car driving off blew your hair back, the hat securely tied around your neck fluttering in the breeze. Your friends turned in their seats just so they could keep waving goodbye, giggling together as you histrionically waved back for their entertainment.

Once the trio was out of sight - although a dirt cloud was left in their wake - you turned back around, spying the mechanic out of the corner of your eye, seeing the way he sheepishly tried to pretend he hadn’t been staring at you this entire time. It made you smirk just a little, amused by whoever he was, growing yet again curious as to who he could possibly remind you of. Instead of walking to the house, you took leisurely steps towards the open garage, noticing the way the man fumbled with the tool he’d just picked up, which nearly made you giggle.

“Are you here to take that dreaded vehicle off father’s hands?” You questioned with something of a playful tone, clasping your gloved hands behind your back as you continued the stroll up the drive. Amusement flashed across the man’s face as he stared down, aimlessly cleaning the tool with a rag that was filthy; his energy was cautious, and something about that made you want to bring his guard down.

“I couldn’t afford it, miss.” His tone seemed careful as his eyes turned up, mindfully watching your approach. Your lip quirked with curiosity.

“Shame; all week I’ve had to listen to him complain about how burdensome it is.” You came to a pause in the large doorway, studying the man more closely now that you had a better view of him, now that he wasn’t so obscured by shadows.

There was a softness to his features, from the gentle shape of his lips to the curls brushing across his forehead to even the cleanly kept mustache and beard adorning his jaw. His whole aura seemed to radiate with kind easiness, his expressive brows raised with an innocent wonder, as if he was awaiting something in particular.

But those eyes of his, so dark and doe-like, seemed to have an eternal sadness about them, a sadness buried so deep within the bones that it would never quite go away. That struck you as shockingly familiar - those were eyes you’d seen so many times before, eyes you’d known so well once upon a time.

Now, you were the one frozen with surprise, your brow first raising then furrowing, your lips parting slightly with words that never quite came to you. It couldn’t be the boy you once ran through fields with, the boy who always had a story to tell, the boy who had no expectations of you the way the rest of the world had. He was long gone, giving you a rushed and eager farewell as his father insistently tried to drag him away. And yet…

“Eddie?” Your voice came out a soft whisper, his eyes alighting with elation immediately. You saw the exact moment all his trepidation faded away, when his shoulders relaxed and his lips spread into an incredible, gleaming smile. You laughed a little in disbelief, your own face lighting up despite the fact that you still couldn’t quite comprehend it was him; your smile was so wide and fierce across your lips that your cheeks nearly hurt.

Propriety entirely forgotten, you dashed the short distance between you and Eddie, throwing yourself against him so forcefully and quickly enough that he coughed with surprise, your arms winding tightly around his neck as your laughter continued to ring in his ear. For a moment, he didn’t dare move, growing tense against you, as if he was afraid of touching you; but shortly thereafter, he breathed in your scent and snaked his arms around your middle, his palm pressed firmly against your back as he held you close.

“My god, I can’t believe you’re back.” You said gleefully against his ear, pulling back just enough to look at his matured face, your hands coming up to grab his cheeks as you studied him. Your gaze darted with delight over the planes of his face, taking in his familiar eyes, his new beard, the kind smile on his lips; you were practically awestruck at the sight of him, at the sight of how handsome he’d become, “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Eddie’s expression softened as his hands reached up to cup yours, slowly removing them from his sweaty cheeks as if fearful the two of you would be caught like this. He looked between your eyes warmly, the smile now a permanent fixture on his face. His tone seemed nearly apologetic as he answered, “I thought the same.”

You gently wrapped your fingers around his, refusing to let go as you dropped your joined hands between you, “What brought you back?”

Your heart drummed a funny tune in your chest as you continued to gaze upon him, enraptured by the shock of your old friend’s return. Eddie paused to consider his words before answering, dipping his head a little as if sheepish, “I was homesick.”

You smiled at the simple answer, squeezing his hands in yours as a little laugh escaped you, “Oh, don’t tell me you missed this dusty old place; what does it have to offer someone who has surely had so many magnificent adventures?”

Eddie looked back at you as if you were a marvel - even after all this time, you’d held onto your sense of wonder, you continued to crave excitement as if it were the air you breathed. For a moment, it felt like no time had passed at all, as if you were still children sharing tales of the far and wide world that lived inside the depths of your minds. It tugged at Eddie’s heartstrings, a sadness creeping into his thoughts - he had spent so many years away, so many years without sharing stories and relishing in the company of one another. As you stood here with him, hand-in-hand, Eddie felt a deep longing, missing you even as you stared right at him.

“The adventures weren’t nearly as magnificent as you’d like to think.” He answered, to which you pulled a displeased face while waving a hand between you two, as if you were shooing away the words he just said like insects.

“Don’t tell me that. Are you not the same boy who always had a story to tell, whether fact or fiction?” You smiled at him fondly, which prompted him to mirror the expression, unable to resist your charm even now; Eddie figured he’d never quite be able to resist you no matter how hard he tried.

He shook his head with a small laugh, looking down at his feet; he noticed in that moment that he’d gotten oil on your pretty dress, but knowing you, you probably didn’t give a damn, “Don’t worry, I will always entertain you with stories, all you need to do is ask.”

You sighed pleasantly, pulling Eddie back into a quick hug simply because you couldn’t contain the joy you felt, “Is that a promise, Edward Munson?”

“Of course it is, Ms. Talbot.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a pleasant shiver running up your spine; those pesky feelings that had only started to blossom in your youth were already daring to come back, despite the years apart. You tried not to fall victim to folly, and yet the yearning you once had for the groundskeeper’s boy was coming back with even greater conviction, the flame fanned by the excitement of your unexpected reunion.

And it certainly didn’t help that little Eddie had grown up to be a handsome man, so easy on the eyes that you were already convinced you could stare at him for hours if he’d let you. Hell, you could probably spend days admiring that face without ever growing bored of him.

Your cheeks warmed as a yearning look passed between the two of you, and so you dropped your gaze while taking a step back, meandering around the garage as a means to calm yourself down, to hide the attraction you were oh-so clearly feeling towards him, “Tell me about your travels - tell me about all the places you’ve been.”

As you walked with grace and ease, your moves were almost hypnotic; Eddie cringed at the perfect greasy handprint he’d left on the small of your back, at the swipe of grime that was transferred from his cheek to yours - how he hoped that your father wouldn’t see you like this, or else Eddie would be fresh out of luck in gaining a job here at the estate.

You perched upon a large wooden work bench, fussing with your skirts as they twisted around your feet; you both spotted another spill of oil on the lilac fabric, but you simply made an unconcerned face at it before dropping the folds of fabric from your hands. You directed your attention back to Eddie, raising your brows expectantly as an easy smile graced your lips.

Eddie licked his lips with a grin, shaking his head pleasantly while attempting to focus on all the work still to be done on the car, “I’ve been many places, though none appropriate for a woman like you.”

You scoffed with an amused eye roll, “And when have I ever been held back by what is and is not appropriate for me?”

Eddie faintly laughed, “You never have and you never will.”

You leaned forward while resting your hands atop your knees, a wicked look on your face, “And don’t you ever forget it.”

Sharing a familiar laugh, Eddie began to regale you with tales of getting arrested in New York City and Boston, of stirring up trouble in Virginia and Tennessee. His ability for storytelling had only sharpened after so many years, and you found yourself mesmerized by his way with words, the way his body language always complimented the stories he told.

He spoke of robberies and bar fights, of friends made and friends lost along the way; you were not inclined to believe all the words that left his mouth, but the two of you had always preferred the thrills of a good story to the facts of a boring life. It was like a silent agreement between you two to make a tale interesting, even if that required embellishment.

It was so easy to be with Eddie again, so easy to sit and listen to him talk, to laugh alongside him and share wicked smiles. How could thirteen years have come and gone when this moment felt timeless, as if you were once more four or six or eight years old, hanging onto every single word that left Eddie’s mouth?

He was striking to you, utterly remarkable, the way his stories came to him with such ease even as he fussed with car parts that just wouldn’t work. The way he’d look to you just to see your reaction following a particularly harrowing plot twist made you squirm; the way his grin would spread from ear-to-ear at the sound of your laughter made your cheeks flush with warmth.

Your innocent childhood together was felt heavily as you listened to Eddie’s tales - memories of climbing trees and splashing in puddles ever so vibrant behind your mind’s eyes. There was an anxious thrill in your chest that made this different, however, a swirling sensation in your stomach reminding you that things had changed even as they stayed the same. Each smile Eddie shot you was nearly breathtaking, each cheeky wink like a piercing arrow in your heart. You knew better than to let yourself become excited by him like this, and yet it couldn’t be helped, the fire had started burning the moment you laid eyes upon each other.

Even as you listened and laughed attentively, you tried to tell yourself that this was simply your childhood crush briefly reigniting, that the excitement would die down soon enough and you would simply see each other as friends from the distant past. You knew how your love of stories could tint the way you viewed the world, how the romance novels stacked around your room had always given you a longing for a love like fiction. You couldn’t allow those desires to trick you now, but you couldn’t resist, your entire being reacting to something so simple as Eddie smiling at you with all the softness in the world.

Time had gotten away from you as you sat there enchanted by his stories, and once he’d finally completed his work on that damned motor car, you were surprised by just how much the sun’s position had changed in the sky. You and Eddie shared a look of disbelief as he tidied the tools and put everything back in its place, the both of you clearly having been trapped within a bubble where time didn’t exist. You hopped up eagerly from your seat, exiting the garage alongside Eddie as he looked up at the manor with hesitation.

You grabbed his hand again, to which he met your eyes attentively; You grinned from ear-to-ear, just like you did as a child when you decided the day was still young and there was so much more to be explored, “Walk with me? I’ll show you all the changes your uncle has made to the gardens, they’re magnificent.”

Eddie smiled sadly, which caused you to falter slightly; had you misread something about the past couple of hours? Despite every fiber of his being wanting to cave to your each and every whim, he knew better. He gave a small shake of his head while glancing at your home once more, “I must speak with your father - I can only stay should my work on the car be sufficient. And he’s asked me to… behave myself around you.”

You frowned, your lips forming a beautiful pout as your brows turned down. You were reminded that you were adults now, that neither of you had the freedoms of children. You knew you had to let Eddie go, but how you wished you could simply drag him away to hide in the hedge maze or the woods until all responsibilities and expectations faded away.

Righting your expression, you sighed and nodded with acceptance, locking your eyes firmly with his, “Tonight then. After supper, meet me in the gardens.”

It was a plea, even as you spoke as if it were a command. Eddie inhaled sharply, excited by the suggestion but also terrified that the two of you might be found out - your childhood innocence was gone, and it could cause trouble for you to be found together like that. But that look in your eyes, so fiercely determined, made it impossible for him to deny you; Eddie already knew that, even now, he could never deny you.

“Tonight.” He whispered with a nod, causing you to smile wide. Eagerly, you placed a kiss on the palm of your hand, then pressed it longingly to Eddie’s cheek, causing his eyes to nearly flutter shut; he leaned into the touch with such reverie that it made your heart swell.

“Now go, distract my father so he won’t see me like this.” You instructed with reference to your dress that he had dirtied. Eddie laughed smally with one more nod, stepping away from you as if it were burdensome to do so; he began to round the manor back towards the front doors, pausing once to shoot you a playful look before disappearing beyond a corner.

You waited another few moments before scurrying off towards the kitchen entrance, hoping that Magda could somehow get these grease stains out of your favorite dress.

[PART TWO] | [MASTERLIST]

addt. A.N | The taglist is open for anyone interested in being notified about updates! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks of this first chapter ♥

taglist | @ali-r3n @chaoticgood-munson @chaptersleftunwritten @daisy-munson @duncanhillscoffeecups

@eddiernunson @ilovetaquitosmmmm @jasminelafleur @lavendermunson @littlexdeaths

@marlena-marlena @mmmunson @skrzydlak @tenthmoon

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson #stranger things #em #when the wolfsbane blooms

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caelivir · 9 months ago

Text

red lips, dying for a kiss | rayne ames

— synopsis. in which rayne discovers that red lip combos are his weakness.

— pairing. rayne ames x fem!reader

— genres. university au, friends-ish to lovers, rayne has a little bit of a crush

— word count. 2.3k

— warnings. very brief violence mention in the beginning, alcohol consumption (rayne and reader are 21 in this), making out (i tried to keep it brief), ooc rayne but he’s kinda drunk so

— notes. breaking theme for this one but it’s okay. i wanted to drop this on valentine’s day… clearly that didn’t work out. also as i go to post this hidden lights reached 1k notes which is absolutely insane to think of. thank you for giving it so much love. anyway, happy 100 followers! thanks for sticking with me. enjoy!

dedicated to all the rayne girlies. i pray we find (or already have) a man like him. ♡

ryoh’s parties are always a bad idea. rayne can’t count the number of times something has gone wrong. cops show up. someone locks every single bathroom from the inside. a dumbass jumps off the roof and into the pool. any incident you could think of has probably happened. the last one rayne went to nearly got him screwed over when he fought against a guy picking on his brother, and it was not pretty (for the other guy) to say the least.

from that moment on, rayne had made the decision to never attend another one of ryoh’s parties. it doesn’t matter who begged him or what the circumstances were. no one was going to change his mind on that.

unfortunately, ryoh grantz would not have that. it took three days and a two hundred dollar bribe to convince rayne to go because who would he be if not taking advantage of the rich.

so that’s where he finds himself now, standing in a circle with his friends as music blasts in ryoh’s mansion. they talk about who knows what as rayne wishes he could go home. he has to see it out though because this would be the easiest two hundred dollars he would ever make.

his second red solo cup of the night is filled with some unknown (but surprisingly delicious) concoction that sits untouched. he swirls the cup around in his hand, his eyes darting around the room for an escape.

rayne chugs his entire drink down, setting the empty cup on the first surface he finds before mumbling an excuse of having to use the bathroom, not caring whether his friends heard it or not. he stops by the kitchen to rummage through a cooler, skin freezing as he digs through the ice. he finds two cans of a beer brand that he likes.

he weaves through the crowd in the living room, trying his best to not bump into anyone or spill any drinks because the last thing he needs is another altercation.

unfortunately for him, life always has a curveball in store for him.

“hey, look! (y/n)’s here!” someone had yelled, causing people to push closer towards the front door. the flow carries him closer despite his protests.

the half blonde finds you easily. it’s hard to miss your bright smile, even in a room surrounded by dozens. a crowd surrounds you and your group of friends. they greet you with hellos, offer drinks, and fight for your attention. you try your best to address everyone as you and your friends inch closer to the dance floor.

rayne knows you. your friend groups overlap often so he was bound to meet you at one point. you're popular around campus, known for your friendly nature, kind acts, and most of all, you're known for your beauty. he hears about a new attempt to gain your affection almost weekly. you never seem to accept them for some odd reason. it doesn't matter who it is. the d1 basketball prodigy? the rich girl in your philosophy class? they'd be rejected all the same. your lack of care for relationships has sparked up rumors, but even those never seem to faze you.

as for his opinion on you, rayne acutally likes you, which is a rare feat considering that the half-blonde cannot stand the presence of most people. but in this case, he likes you. he has the smallest of crushes that he wouldn't dare to admit to anyone except his brother, maybe.

in the times your paths had crossed, you had been an easy person to be around, never doing anything to irritate him and always trying to include him in every conversation and activity. it makes him feel all warm inside. the thought of it brings the ghost of a smile onto his face.

he also can't deny that you are indeed one of the most beautiful people that he's ever come across. you would have to be a fool to try and deny that. it's a little shallow on his part to like you partly for your looks, but he can't help it when your smile has the power to blind angels.

"rayne?" your head tilts, surprise written all over your face. he locates two shots in your hands. "woah, i'm surprised you're here! people said you wouldn't come to these anymore!"

rayne is barely to pick up the sound of your voice over all the music. "got paid to be here." he speaks loudly, avoiding yelling as much as he can.

"well, that's one way to get someone to come to a party." you giggle.

it's at this point where rayne closely inspects your face. his eyes are immediately drawn to your lips, colored in a combination of reds. he's never seen it on you before, and paired with the rest of the makeup on your face, it stands out, commands attention.

and it looks… really fucking good. rayne takes the sight of you in fully. yeah, you look really fucking good tonight. the half-blonde gulps, forcing his eyes back up to your face.

"take this with me!" you urge rayne, holding out a plastic shot glass to him.

unwilling to bring himself to say no to you, rayne sighs, accepting it. the two of you raise your glasses up in a silent toast before pressing the plastic to his lips, tilting his head back, and letting the alcohol slide down his throat. it burns. it tastes horrid on his tastebuds. the half-blonde scrunches his nose in disgust, and you take the empty glass from him, how you went unbothered by such a disgusting beverage is beyond him.

as much as rayne wishes he could be with you, he desperately longs to find someplace quiet. the bass of the music pounds against his head. "i'll see you around, (y/n). have fun tonight. be safe." rayne says.

"oh okay. see you rayne." you frown, but maybe that's just the lighting messing with him. he swears there's disappointment laced in your voice, but that could also just be the alcohol playing games with him.

rayne makes his way upstairs. he prays that he won't barge into people having sex. luckily for him, it's still early, and the room that he chooses, the one at the very end of the hall, is empty. he relaxes the moment he locks the door as if a weight was being lifted off him.

the half-blonde sets his unopened beers onto the nightstand and lies on the made bed. he stares at the ceiling for fifteen minutes, contemplating his life choices. his thoughts drift to you and your gorgeous lips, but he’s quick to dismiss them. when he’s finished with that, he cracks open his first beer, leaving a ring of condensation on the nightstand, and opens up his phone.

the next hour or so is spent watching compilations of bunnies and sipping on his beers. it’s perfectly fine like this. save for the bass of the music bouncing against the walls, it’s peaceful. he feels the effects of the alcohol he drank humming in his veins. it puts him into a lighter mood. however, that peace is disturbed when there’s a loud pounding on the door.

“what the hell?” rayne mumbles under his breath. did someone confuse this room for the bathroom? the half-blonde pulls himself out of bed, unlocks the door, and cracks it open just a little bit to see who it is.

“rayne, is that you? oh my god, please let me in.” you beg, clasping your hands together in prayer.

confused, but without any complaint, he allows you into the room, shutting the door behind him and locking it.

you practically collapse on the edge of the bed, and rayne can sense that something is amiss.

“are you alright?” he asks cautiously, standing a foot away from you.

“do you ever just get sick of people?” you ponder suddenly, shooting to sit straight up.

“sure.” rayne shrugs, still unmoving from his spot.

“you can’t tell anyone i told you this,” you point at him with narrowed eyes, voice slurred. “swear you won’t.”

“i won’t.”

“good.” you nod. “as i was saying, i get so sick of people sometimes. being popular is fucking exhausting. i don’t know how much longer i can keep up with this. i swear i can’t enjoy things on my own time without people barging in or commenting on it.

“i can’t sit on a couch to catch my breath without people wanting to talk to me. not that that’s bad of course, i love talking to people, but christ, just back up a bit. like can’t they just take a hint and realize that i don’t want to talk? do you get that?”

rayne nods. “must be rough.”

“it is,” you groan and then sigh, standing up to dust off your clothes. you stumble from dizziness after having gotten up too fast. however, you shake the feeling out. “sorry, i shouldn’t have dumped all of that on you. that was a stupid thing to complain about.”

“no, it wasn’t.” rayne argues. “people who are always in your space are fucking annoying. i would know so there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.” at this point, he could tell the alcohol is doing its number on him, making him more vocal and bold.

“do i annoy you, rayne?” you ask, eyelashes batting at him, this innocent worry behind your eyes. it drives him mad.

“no.” he says sternly, inching closer, his gaze falling to your crimson lips. that damn red lipstick. he wonders what would happen if he were to mess it up. what would happen if he were to ruin that precise lining of color? what you let him cross that line? in his tipsy state of mind, he wants to find out.

“are you sure? because i know whenever we see each other i kinda cling to you, but if that bothers you, just let me know. really it’s no-” you ramble before rayne cuts you off.

“i want to kiss you.” the half-blonde mutters. his eyes stare deep into your own. your eyebrows raise in shock.

"huh?"

"i want" rayne's hand flexes at his side as he exhales, resisting the urge to touch you. "to kiss you."

"why?" you whisper so quietly that he almost didn't hear you.

maybe this is a reckless decision. maybe he shouldn't be risking a friendship with a drunken mind, but honestly in the moment, he really couldn't care less. he can regret it in the morning if things fell apart.

"i like you." rayne admits.

a moment of silence falls onto the room. you stare and stare, sinking your eyes deep into rayne’s as his confession weighs further down onto you.

“oh thank god.” you exhale, pulling rayne in by his shirt.

rayne practically melts into the feeling of your lips, soft against his own. he can taste faint traces of alcohol on you. he places his hands on your hips to press your bodies together. his palms explore your figure, circling around your lower back, trailing upwards to your ribs and back down to your waist. your hands entangle themselves in his hair, eliciting a soft groan out of him.

kissing you is a feeling like no other. it’s straight euphoria, maybe even something greater than that. the butterflies flap violently on his stomach. fireworks ignite his blood. being with you is like soaring across the sky.

you deepen the kiss, exploring each other with such desperation that it makes you dizzy. his tongue moves against yours in perfect sync, as if it were a choreographed dance. by the time you pull away to catch air, you and rayne are breathless, huffing as the half-blonde rests his forehead against yours.

you beautiful red lipstick is now smeared across your mouth, staining at the corners and below the chin. rayne pulls his head back. his fingers graze over your lips, admiring the mess. he’s sure it transferred onto him as well.

“you got something right there.” you joke, pointing at him.

“shut up.” he whispers. however, a smile breaks out onto his face, betraying his words.

“so,” you say, snaking your arms around the half-blonde’s waist. “the rayne ames has a crush on me? i never thought i’d see the day.”

he hums as confirmation. “would i be wrong to guess that you like me too?”

“no.” you grin. “in fact, you’d be one hundred percent right.”

“wonderful.” he mutters, leaning in for another kiss. you turn your head, having him miss your mouth entirely.

“i’m starting to believe you only like me so you could have a make out partner.” you tease, causing the half-blonde to sigh at your antics.

“i like you because you’re kind.”

he pecks one cheek.

“because you’re fun.”

he pecks the other.

“because you’re intelligent.”

he presses his stained lips to your forehead.

“because you’re so beautiful.”

rayne kisses the tip of your nose.

“my beautiful, (y/n).” he mumbles with a barely noticeable slur, cupping your face.

“you should drink more often. i like this side of you.” you comment, looking up at him with a gaze that drives him crazy.

“please just let me kiss you again.” rayne quietly begs, his mouth centimeters from yours.

“kiss me whenever you want.” you whisper before colliding with him once more.

in the morning, ryoh has to pick the lock to get into the guest bedroom. he stumbles in pissed off and ready to blow up on the person who dared to put him through such a hassle.

however, the sight he walks into flips his mood instantly. ryoh finds you and rayne tangled in each other’s arms completely knocked out. upon closer inspection, he notes the matching lipstick stains on both of your mouths, and a knowing smirk spreads across his face.

the blonde man pulls out his phone, snapping pictures in different angles to solidify this moment in history.

“he better thank me for this.” ryoh says to himself before walking out and shutting the door behind him.

#anime #manga #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #mashle x reader #rayne ames #rayne x reader #rayne ames x reader #° ᡣ𐭩 set i: fics

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highonakuweeds · 2 months ago

Text

Who Says Money Can't Buy Happiness? (pt 2)

Sylus/right hand man!reader

SUMMARY: You decided to indulge in Aries' little date, a "simple" dinner in an expensive place. However, one drink led to another and you found yourself thinking about Sylus way more than you should be.

WARNINGS:

smut, cunnilingus, making out, intoxication, aphrodisiac, slightly jealous Sylus, possibly ooc ??

GENRE: smut, a bit of fluff near the end

Is it obvious idk how to tag?

“Must I wear this?” A familiar man held a perfume bottle in his hand, glancing at its label. Behind it, translucent pink liquid swished around, as if eager to be released. He grimaced at the sight, clearly not liking the idea.

Another man, a decade or two older, just scoffed, fixing his nephew’s collar. “Yes, you do. I did not raise you to retaliate.”

His nephew snorted. “You didn’t raise me, per se—”

“Aries.” Ciel’s voice cut through his statement, making the man clear his throat. “Sorry, sir.”

“There you go.” And with that, Ciel backed off, arms crossed in expectation. Aries’ jaw clenched before spraying the perfume over his pulse points, as well as his hair. It smelled sickeningly sweet in his opinion, too sweet to the point he almost gagged in front of his uncle. But, he was told that it would wear down the moment he met a certain little (Name).

He didn’t want to trick you like this, but he saw your hesitance when he touched your shoulder. As if you knew he was something he shouldn’t be.

—--

You couldn’t stop staring at yourself in the mirror.

You bought the beauty you were wearing yourself, and even if it wasn’t the signature black or red that Sylus loved dressing you in, you believed that a pretty champagne would do you good. It’s not as if it ever let you down before. Its plunging neckline was daring for a first date, but you were never one for subtlety. Not if you had the richest man in the world as your wallet.

A simple dinner, Aries told you. You snorted. Yeah, right. A simple dinner for the rich, maybe.

You should be used to restaurants like what Aries had sent you the location of, but you never asked to join Sylus whenever he’d go, so you were never accustomed to them.

You always seemed to forget you were constantly surrounded by the wealthy as long as you were in the N109 Zone.

You had told Tara and the others that you had to leave shift early for a simple little date, and the moment you did, their eyes lit up immediately, especially Tara. She always thought money was your one true love, and though she wasn’t necessarily wrong, she was happy that there was at least some space in your heart for a person.

You scoffed at the idea of having an actual partner. You were just humoring Aries; he didn’t really mean anything to you. Ever since you left the auction, he began texting you almost nonstop, occasionally giving you a bouquet of roses before the actual dinner, which was scheduled a week after the auction. But it felt mundane to you. None of it compared to what Sylus had done for you during the first week of your stay.

You shook your head. Why were you thinking of your damn boss? Why were you comparing him to a potential romantic partner? With a huff, you grabbed your clutch and headed straight for your double door.

The moment you opened one of them, though, Sylus was right in front of you, leaning against the other door, sparing you a glance. “Where are you off to?”

You smiled plainly at it, crossing your arms as you faced him. “That won’t work on me. I’m leaving now!” You spun on your heels before walking down the hallways, your figure a deep contrast to the darkness of the walls around you. You heard Sylus scoff in amusement, and it ticked you off. “If I see Mephisto or any one of your goons following or spying on me, I will leave.”

“As if you could,” you heard him bite back, and you smiled. You hated how he was right. Though you knew he wouldn’t follow you after what you said. You hoped.

—--

“Reservation under Cartier.” Aries informed the waiter, who had bowed and ushered us to your seats. Your interest piqued at his last name, and the moment you two sat down, you brought it up. “‘Cartier’? Like the vintage jewelry brand?” You joked, nodding at the waiter in gratitude.

He just goofishly laughed, looking down at the candlelit table with humility. “I get that a lot, yeah. But speaking of it, though, my dad used to talk about a certain jewelry store.”

At that, your face dropped in shock, eyes wide at his words. “...Your family owns Cartier?”

Aries shrugged, smiling awkwardly at the waiter as he poured the red wine. “I guess? I haven't heard about it in a while, though. He barely talks about it now.”

“I have some of your pieces!” You exclaimed, putting your hand out to show him a beautiful Trinity ring on your left middle finger, truly a classic. “See?”

His eyes twinkled at the ring, and his hand took yours. When he leaned down and kissed your ring, your nostrils began to get filled up with a sweet aroma, and suddenly you had difficulty breathing.

Aries’ eyes glanced up at you, half-lidded, and he tilted his head. “Are you alright, (Name)?”

His voice was muffled in your head, and you knew just how flushed your cheeks were. There was something wrong with the air. You took another sniff of it, your wrist heating up at the course of information.

You immediately regretted the decision of sniffing the air once more, however, as you let out a groan, your head hurting a bit more than it should. “I-I’m fine.” You muttered, flashing a smile to comfort Aries. “It’s okay; someone’s perfume is just piercing through my nose.”

That seemed to soothe Aries, indeed, as he nodded understandingly. “Of course. Now, let’s get started, shall we?”

“I never say no to a good meal.”

Throughout the entire dinner, you couldn’t focus as much as you wanted to. Especially after you realized that the perfume you were smelling was an aphrodisiac, and that you were almost sure it was from Aries. Did he know that it was an aphrodisiac? Was he planning on drugging you? You couldn’t help it; your guard was up the entire time he talked and you responded. Yet at the same time, you couldn’t keep up security for longer when you constantly had rather… indecent thoughts, not about the man in front of you, but about the man you wished was spying on you.

Ah shit, you are not going home horny for Sylus, out of all people. You won’t allow it.

But when Aries encouraged you to take another glass of wine, just like he did, you couldn’t help it. You accepted his offer, and spent the remaining time wondering just how long until you got home, whilst laughing your ass off at whatever Aries was talking about.

You stumbled as you giggled, grabbing onto Aries’ shoulder. The man you walked into the dinner with was also visibly wasted, with his flushed face and his wobbly walk.

“You sure you won’t ride with me?” He hiccuped, making you nod vigorously, your pouty lips catching his attention. “Yes, yes!” You exclaimed, slapping his arm playfully. “I’ll be fine. I booked a ride.” Both your speeches slurred as you talked, but it all felt normal to the both of you.

Aries nodded at the same time as you, making his head spin. “Okay.” He grunted, not before cupping your cheeks. Your eyes widened, and you almost sobered fully at that feeling. You couldn’t even process what was going on before he smashed his lips onto yours. Luckily there was no tongue, but it was definitely uncomfortable. You smelled the familiar sweetness you did when you were sober, and your heart sank when you realized that it was him that was wearing the aphrodisiac. And with what he was doing right now, you assumed that he was anticipating you to give in to him.

But for some reason you weren’t. You weren’t aroused by the idea of Aries, nor were you aroused by his actions. They all felt forced, though you had always just brushed it off.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally let go, his lips parted as he panted. “I will see you,” he walked towards his car, where the driver was waiting for him. “In a week’s time, same time!”

It took you a while to understand what he was saying, but you nodded your head, almost your entire torso as well, when you got the message. “Okay!”

“Goodnight, (Name)!”

“Good night, Aries!”

The moment he left, the hair at your nape stood up, and a shiver ran down your spine. Something dangerous was in the vicinity, but this felt more natural. Familiar, even.

“So, I assume the date went well, given you had to call me to pick you up?” A rich, deep voice echoed in your mind, and a tug almost made you stumble. Luckily, strong hands caught you just in time. Your smile almost blinded you with how high your cheeks were raised as you looked up at Sylus, who had an amused smirk on his face. His eyes, however, told a different story. They held a look of concern and worry, something you’d never seen in his eyes.

“Sylus!” You shouted, flipping your body like you were boneless until your chin was on his chest and his arms were wrapped around your waist, back slightly arched. “I knew you’d come.”

He just scoffed at your words, and his face softened with each second he gazed at you. “So what, is your new boyfriend that much of an idiot to not offer you a ride home? Is he broke? Ashamed of his form of transportation, perhaps?”

You pouted at his questions, knowing all too well despite being drunk that he was teasing you. “Shut up; I told him I already had a ride home.” Your eyes trailed down until his collarbone, and Sylus could’ve sworn something dangerous flashed in your eyes as you did so. “Speaking of which, can we go home?”

“I’m just waiting on you, sweetie.” He muttered, staring at you for a couple more minutes before picking you up swiftly, one arm hooked under your waist and the other under your legs.

You yelped at the sudden movement, thrashing in his iron grasp. “Jesus Christ, Sylus! Put me down!”

“You’re drunk, and when I saw you, you could barely walk,” he commented, making you huff, leaning on his chest. From how you were positioned, you could hear his heart beating as fast as you’ve ever heard a heart go. Why was it racing so much?

All of this adrenaline had made you forget about the searing heat growing in your abdomen, something that Aries had apparently wanted to happen to you. And with Sylus this close, you could no longer push it aside.

If you were to be honest, it felt excruciatingly painful, having no friction in that area. And you couldn’t even think properly, so how could you ever distract yourself, or hell, make the better choice?

You moaned quite loudly in Sylus’ arms, earning a raise of his brow. “Is something the matter, (Nickname)?”

You stopped wiggling around in Sylus’ arms before looking up at him, crossing your arms. “Nothing that's your business.” Actually, it technically was his business; you were dreaming of him fucking you.

Your boss scoffed, picking up one of the helmets and placing it on you after helping you stand up, a hand on your waist. His hand accidentally grazed your neck as he did so, making you whimper. The sudden noise made him narrow his eyes, but he brushed it off. It’s probably the alcohol making you a bit more sensitive than usual.

“Alright, then,” he softly said, and at his voice did you practically melt. You’ve never heard him talk to you like that, and if you were sober, you would’ve probably teased him for it. But now, it just made you conflicted, especially with how every word he spoke sent long, viscous trails of heat down to your core.

He aided you in straddling the back of his motorcycle as he sat in front, encouraging you to hold onto his waist. But Sylus probably knew that you were going to fall either way, so something was kept wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place on the motorcycle.

Now, you weren’t going to deny, you always thought that Sylus’ Evol was interesting, specifically when it materializes like this. But the aphrodisiac got to you almost immediately, and as he started his motorcycle and began riding home, you let out a moan. Gritting your teeth, you grasped his waist tighter, hands subconsciously trailing down lower and lower until you felt one hand grip them, placing them higher.

Shit, you needed release.

What the fuck were you doing? Sylus thought, brows knit together as he focused more on the road. He knew every single street in the N109 Zone like the back of his hand, but you were making it very difficult for him to remember anything. His pants were already strained from you pressing against his chest earlier, and if he were to allow your devious hands to go lower, he wouldn’t have any choice but to pull over.

But no. You were drunk. Inebriated. He couldn’t take advantage of you like this. Plus, what would happen after? It’s not like you two were in love. He just finds you… interesting.

—--

You waved carelessly at Luke and Kieran when you entered the abode, effectively hitting Sylus in the face in the process. He took it with a grunt, and a glare when the two henchmen stifled their snickering. They waved back at you, of course, making you wave even harder at them, which in turn… hit Sylus again.

“Okay, okay, yes, yes, that’s Luke and Kieran; you’ve said your hellos.” Sylus exasperatedly said, dragging you to your room for you to rest.

You acquiesced with a huff, but not before waving one last time to them. This time, Sylus was able to dodge your arms, but his slight irritation only grew.

“Okay, there you go.” Sylus muttered as he laid you down on your bed. You sat there as he removed your shoes, staring at his white tufts of hair and skilled hands. The shoes you chose to wear were a bit more complex than your usual ones, and yet Sylus was able to quickly remove them with ease.

A familiar feeling of heat pooled all the way down, and your brows furrowed at it. A hand came to your chest, studying your heartbeat and regulating your breathing. You were breathing quickly, but you weren’t quite sure why.

Sylus looked up at you, a brow raised. “Is there a reason as to why you’re hyperventilating? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head in big movements before pausing, then nodding your head with the same energy. Sylus kept himself knelt on the edge of your bed, fixing your heels so you won’t trip on them when you wake up. “Oh? There is something wrong? Am I allowed to know?”

“Aries was wearing an aphrodisiac,” you blurted out before hitting your fluff of pillows behind you with a thud. You closed your eyes as you sighed into the bed.

That got Sylus to stay silent for a couple beats, processing what you just said. “Did he do anything to you? Is that why you’re drunk?” Sylus knew Ciel’s address. He could very well drive there and make Aries disappear in less than 30 minutes.

“Hey!” You exclaimed. “Don’t you even think about murdering Aries, because no. He didn’t do anything. I got drunk on my own.”

Sylus stood up, crossing his arms afterwards. “So, has it worn off?”

You slowly opened your eyes to look at Sylus, who was now towering over you. You swallowed thickly, lips parted as you felt your cheeks flush. Heavily, you shook your head, sparking a glint of intrigue in your boss’ eyes. “No?” His voice was low, and oh fuck, that did something to you.

“No.”

Whether it was your intoxicated state or the aphrodisiac or perhaps both, you weren’t quite sure, but you lost all control over better judgment as you sat up so quickly that it startled Sylus, and pulled him on top of you, arms wrapped around his neck. He visibly tensed, his own arms caging around you to keep himself from crushing you.

Your eyes were half-lidded, and you could slowly feel the alcohol fading away. Though the red wine Aries had the waiters serve was strong, it wasn’t strong enough for you to forget everything that happened tonight.

Ah fuck, you’re going to regret this in the morning.

You ran a hand through the back of his head, making him shiver softly. As you studied his face, you could tell that he was battling with his emotions since his eyes were searching for any kind of sign that you wouldn’t like this in the morning. “Are you sure with what you’re about to do?” He murmured, leaning close but not close enough. It made you feral.

You just grinned at his words before closing the distance, lips slotting against his perfectly. Sylus didn’t retaliate or even move, so you parted after a couple seconds, pouting. Ah, right. You shouldn’t even be doing this. This was taboo, right? Like the books you’ve seen your mother read.

But just as you were about to shove him away and out of your room to satisfy yourself, he reeled you in for another kiss, but this time more desperate. Your heart skipped a beat the moment he did, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling his hips closer to your core. You shivered blissfully at the needed friction, hips grinding against his erratically.

Sylus groaned into your mouth, his tongue swiping your bottom lip for permission. You allowed him, of course. At that point in time you would’ve allowed him to do anything he wanted. God, he tasted like how you imagined him. Not like you constantly thought about what he tasted like, though.

The fluid pleasure in your core built up, and you whined at the feeling, needing to feel him more. Needing him more. God, you hated aphrodisiacs. Well, at least you had personal experience about them stored in your wrist.

You parted from the kiss with a pant, chest heaving as you did so. You were quick to work in slipping your hand under Sylus’ shirt to remove it, but he was just as swift in holding your wrist in warning. You stopped right where his heart was, so you could see almost his entire chest. And his heart; it was beating incredibly quickly. Is he even human?

“Don’t,” his voice was hoarse, lips swollen. It was a sight to behold. “Do anything you’ll regret in the morning. You’re still drunk.”

You whined as he got off you, though you didn’t fail to notice the hesitation in his actions, nor the hand to his lips. “Sylus,” you called out, squeezing your thighs shut at the loss of pleasure.

His hands twitched at your voice, the only indication that he was struggling to hold back. Your boss looked back at you over his shoulder, and you could’ve sworn his jaw tightened when he saw you slumped on your headrest, knees together.

Sylus’ eyes laid on your lips, used and pink from his own. They were parted, as if waiting for him to connect his lips to yours once more. And in that moment, he probably would’ve. “You can’t think straight, (Nickname).” He simply said, making your nose scrunch. “I’m sobering up by the minute!” You hit your mattress. “And it hurts. So much.”

That got his attention. He fully turned to face you, expression full of concern. “What hurts?”

Suddenly having the ability to feel embarrassed, you averted his gaze, looking down at your body. You gulped as he finally understood what you were referring to, and he smirked slyly. “It does? And what does that have to do with me?”

“So, now you’ve changed up.” You snapped, mind finally hurting from the aftereffects of the alcohol. “A minute ago, you were so caring.”

“You know that I’m not as caring as you think, sweetie.” He muttered. His actions deceived him, however as he began walking towards you, and you felt the need to squeeze your thighs tighter. “Do you want my help or not?”

…Wait.

Is he actually offering?

Your mind started to flood with images of Sylus on top of you, his face contorted with pleasure as he bottomed out. That earned a shivering gasp from you, lips biting.

He seemed to notice it, however, and he just chuckled. “Not yet, sweetie. I won’t do… anything that will discomfort you when you realize what’s going on, but…” Sylus sat down on your bed, making the mattress sink. He painfully slowly removed his shoes, and the leather jacket that he had on. With the same speed, he crawled to be in front of you, his hands spreading your legs. “I will help you get over this aphrodisiac, since it hurts so much.”

You muttered something about him being a sarcastic ass even when you were in this state until he placed a kiss on your inner thigh. You jolted at that, inhaling sharply through the nose at the same time. Because of it, you tried to close your legs, but Sylus’ firm grip against your knees kept them locked in place, and a coy smirk slapped itself on his face; you wanted nothing more than to slap it off him.

“Ah-ah-ah, (Nickname), don’t be closing your legs now,” he teased, dipping his head low. He shifted the skirt of your dress (with the help of you lifting up your hips) until it was bunched up on your lower abdomen. The fabric made it difficult for you to see what was going on, but Sylus had a perfect view of the wet spot in your underwear. He ogled at it, drunk at the sight. Licking his lips, he dipped low, his hands sliding higher until both were wrapped around each respective thigh, holding them in place. “Not when you’ve already asked for my help. It would be rude of me to not accept it, right?”

You couldn’t even answer him; your eyes were glued to his own as he stared at your underwear. Without thinking, you grabbed your bunched up skirt and placed the extra fabric to the side so that you could see the man in between your legs better. He raised a brow, amused at your antics. “Want a view, don’t you?”

You just snorted. “Duh. I have the leader of Onichynus on his stomach and in between my thighs. I need this burned in my memory.”

Sylus scoffed. He started to pepper kisses all over your inner thighs, always growing closer to the warm spot but never actually moving there. Your resolve grew weaker every time his tongue flicked out to lick the line that connected your thighs and your hips, and he knew just how crazy he was making you feel.

You dragged his name out in a plea, head resting on the bed’s headboard. With a low chuckle, he nodded, using a hand to slide your underwear to the side. What was hiding beneath it glistened in your room’s warm lighting, and Sylus cursed under his breath, feeling himself twitch on your mattress.

One kiss was all it took for you to lose all sense of logic. A whiny moan escaped you as he languidly used his tongue to collect some slick and lay flat against your clit, going in soft circles afterwards. Your hand instinctively ran through his hair, pulling and urging him to go faster.

He grunted at what you did, but he couldn’t deny just how much that turned him on, you using him like this. You begged him to go quicker, and who was he to refuse?

The hands that were wrapped around your thighs pulled you closer to his mouth, and he allowed himself to savor the taste of you. You yelped when he pulled you since your legs naturally went to go over his shoulders. Sylus gripped them for them to stay there as he devoured you.

You couldn’t believe this. The leader of Onichynus was burying himself in the pleasure that was the heat of your thighs. And he was clearly enjoying himself, too, with how many low moans vibrated through you. The aphrodisiac worked wonders as the slight roughness of his tongue worked at you, and you found yourself a moaning mess not even 5 minutes in, begging and whining for more.

Sylus was more than happy to oblige to your pleading, of course. When you told him to stay in that spot, he would, and when you told him to go harder, he did.

And you had to admit, his tongue was skillful in what it was doing. You’ve never doubted his abilities in pleasing women, but to actually experience it was something else. It prodded your entrance, teasing you, until it finally entered. You let out a cry, tugging his hair even more to pull him closer.

Your thighs pressed against the sides of his face, and he groaned at the feeling, nose brushing up against your clit as he relished in your cunt. The more you stared at him, the more you realized just how close you were to the edge, and how much you were probably staining your mattress. Ugh, you’d have to clean this up in the morning.

Your breaths came in either small hiccups or shallow pants, and there were times where you had to remind yourself to breathe and not just hold your breath as you gazed at the man eating you out.

“Sylus,” you breathed out, swallowing saliva that accumulated. “I-I’m so close, Sylus—”

“I know,” was his muffled response, voice thick with the desire to please you. “Use me, (Nickname).”

…oh shit.

You bit your lip, guiding Sylus’ head whilst he resumed what he was doing before. Pleasure and pressure both built inside of you, and you couldn’t help but mutter your boss’ name like a prayer, hoping that if you did, he would easily relieve you.

In all honesty, it didn’t take much for him to do so. Fuck, just the sound of his voice was enough for him to flick his tongue expertly into your entrance or across your clit. As you practically rode his face, one of his hands slid up to your abdomen, where he applied pressure at a rhythmic pace.

You gasped at the addition of ecstacy, and you cried his name out, hips spasming as thighs tightened around his face. Your back arched at how intense your orgasm was, eyes squeezed shut. When they weren’t, they were rolled to the back of your skull.

Sylus grunted when you practically coated his entire face as fluids escaped you, but he wasn’t complaining. He took every single drop you gave him, eager to please and to be used. He let out a low moan, placing sloppy open-mouthed kisses to catch the liquid you released, and you twitched under his touch, muttering him to stop. Your hand on his hair told a different story, though, as it continued to tug his head towards your cunt.

He only did stop when you finally let go of his hair, a sting entering his scalp. The pain felt amazingly good, though, so he couldn’t care less. You stared half-lidded at him as he panted, swallowing the remaining juices he had in his mouth.

“How are you feeling?” Sylus muttered, planting one more kiss on your still-swollen clit. You jerked at that, squeezing his head again. You winced before murmuring a small sorry. “I-I,” you began to say, but your tongue felt fat in your mouth. You still hadn’t gotten the chance to catch your breath, so you just sighed softly, letting your head rest against the headboard.

Sylus got the memo and just chuckled, removing his grasp of your thighs. He gingerly (which was unusual of him) set your legs down from his shoulders; they flopped onto the bed like they were jelly. Jesus, you would’ve been so embarrassed.

“I’m assuming it’s faded?” He guessed, using his hand to wipe his face first. He could still taste you in his mouth. You barely nodded, eyes closing as your mind drifted away from reality.

Sylus smirked at your vulnerable position right now. He glanced at your glowing right wrist as it processed the experience and stored the information from it. So it really does collect everything.

When he put his eyes back at you, he noticed that you were asleep, energy no longer enough to keep you awake. You were still wearing your makeup and champagne dress, and he knew it wouldn’t be comfortable to wake up in that.

The last thing you heard before fully drifting off was Sylus’ footsteps weakening, and a door closing. Ah, he must’ve left you. Of course, his duty was finally fulfilled; why should he stay for even longer?

—--

When Sylus came back from your bathroom, he had makeup wipes and remover in one hand, a warm damp face towel in the other, and a pair of comfortable pajamas he’d recently bought you. You were fast asleep when he placed the items in his hands on the nightstand and clothes on your bed. And he had to admit, it was cute.

Carefully, he sat down on the bed, just beside you, one leg folded on it. He readied a makeup wipe with remover and cradled your head with his hand, using the other one to gently wipe the foundation and such off your face.

He didn’t dare to speak or wake you up the entire time, instead he used his Evol to turn on the vinyl player he’d gifted you a year ago to play some jazz. Ella Fitzgerald was always your favorite, so he always bought her vinyls. Her and Chet Baker.

So as Ella serenaded the room, he rubbed circles on your face with the towel, removing any excess while also exfoliating your skin. After it, your skin was flushed, red and sensitive from hours of wearing makeup.

Then, he worked on slipping the sleeves of your dress off you, pulling the rest down until you were just in your underwear. He brought another pair of underwear just in case, so he removed everything until you were bare. Sylus grabbed the damp towel once more and cleaned your inner thighs more thoroughly until it was no longer sticky and full of slick. With that, he grabbed the new pair of underwear and slipped them on you. It wasn’t long until a comfortable shirt and pants were on you, and Sylus unclasped your bra easily and removed it with your shirt still on. You always complained about having to wear bras.

He cleaned everything up quite quickly, too, placing your dirty clothes in your hamper before leaving, dimming the lights until only a soft glow emanated in the room. Sylus had left the player on; it would’ve probably stopped the moment you woke up, anyway.

And as he left, he wondered to himself why had he even done you that favor. The first thought that popped up was that it was from the goodness of his heart, but you both knew he didn’t have such thing. He was just…protective of what he had. If he wasn’t, everything he owned would be broken, right?

With that, he called up a hitman. Not for an assassination attempt, but for a warning. A hollow bullet would hit a vase, and inside it was the message, use that perfume again, and your bones will be the next thing up for auction.

It was just Sylus being protective.

#love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #lads sylus #sylus x reader #reader is not the mc #sylus x you #love and deepspace #lnds #smut #sylus smut #lnds smut

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fake-bleach · 10 months ago

Text

million dollar man | derek danforth x reader

summary: Derek Danforth takes great pleasure in paying for your company and your company only. He’s also a grade A asshole, who doesn't know how to take no for an answer. You come to him on a strict schedule, and, usually, he respects your life aside from him. But, for some reason, you can’t ever seem to get a hold of an evening with your friends without his intrusions. Corrupted with need, Derek persuades you to come to him with an offer of something.. more. Something that he knows will get your attention. What happens when the night ends in a way you wouldn't possibly expect?

word count: 3k

warnings/disclaimers: (18+ only!) fem!reader (no use of y/n), slight spoilers for "the beekeeper", reader's a broke college student, substance use (reader & derek smoke a joint and get high), (that's the "more" in the summary if that matters to anyone btw), use of pet names (baby, babe), derek's an asshole and a bit toxic (as expected), maybe ooc derek but? in a way, reader makes derek want to be better, a bittt of angst but it's worth it i promise, kissing, yeaa i think that's it, part 2 will have smut ofc!, this is kinda all over the place but i hope it makes sense lmfaoo

authors note: hi! i've been so so occupied w/ college, so i apologize sincerely for my sudden, longgg hiatus :') i miss writing all of the time </3 but, i saw the beekeeper on saturday and felt the need to write again! i've been super into jhutch for the past few months, so i hope you guys enjoy this one <3 part two should be coming asap :) so, consider this my brief comeback? but not really? i'm unpredictable

ao3 link | masterlist

read part 2 here!

Being one of the girls Derek Danforth keeps around, you’re bound to deal with some of the bullshit that comes along with it.

But unbeknownst to you, he likes you a little more than he'd like to admit.

He hasn't seen any of the others in weeks now, his mind only occupied with his thoughts of you and when you're not around. And when you're actually with him, paying for the pleasures of your company, he can't help but want more from you when he knows that's beyond your limits.

It's simple, really.

He's a lonely man, and he knows that; knows that his personality is hard to swallow and tolerate. Knows it's pathetic that all he can do is pay for people to actually stick around.

But, there's only so much a lonely man can take.

So, that's when he starts seeing you, exclusively, ‘cause to be fair? You’re the only one who’s bothered to stay by his side for this long.

The only one who’s ever made him feel.. something.

It’s been a few months now since you started seeing Derek. The first few visits from you immediately captured his attention; your disposition being unlike any he's ever encountered before.

Being surrounded by other like-minded people such as himself, it's safe to say that it's all he's ever known. The rich and prosperous life that everyone else around him has. The ability to get anything he wants in a blink of an eye, regardless of what it was, extravagant or not.

You on the other hand? It wasn't so easy.

Maybe it was because you were so hard to get. Maybe it was because he liked the challenge.

He didn't know why he was so captivated by you. But, what he did know was the fact that he needed to.

"Hey, I know we said next week, but I need you here now."

Derek had called you, urgently as it seemed while you were out. Despite the heads up you gave him about your upcoming plans the last time you saw each other, he didn't care, and that was something you were already preparing for.

"Derek, I told you: I can't do today. We agreed that it was fine." You spoke directly into the phone, walking away from your friends at the club you were at to a quieter area; away from the deafening music that shook every inch of the perimeter.

"Are you at a club right now?"

You sighed exasperatedly, the irritation in your tone evident as you reached an empty corridor near the bathroom, body leaning against the wall. "Yes, Derek, did I have to specify my plans to you as well?"

He let out a small laugh that made you stiffen, throat tightening.

"What's with the attitude, baby? It was a harmless fuckin' question."

You were used to this with him; the casual swearing, the way he spoke to you. It was nothing new, and everything you had already adapted to.

But, God, did it annoy the fuck out of you sometimes.

"No attitude. Just wondering why the hell you need me on my day off. I'm having some fun here, is that a problem?"

"Without me? 'Course it is," He exclaimed, his voice giving off his arrogance, "Why have fun there when you could be doin' that with me here?"

You swallowed sharply and licked your bottom lip, looking up and around you as you shook your head, hesitant on his inquiry. "I don't know, Derek.. I, I'm with my friends. Promised I'd be here tonight.." You paused, "They think I 'see you too much' already, y'know?"

"Fuck what your friends think. Come on, come see me, baby. I'll make it worth your while."

He was desperate, you could tell that much.

You rolled your eyes at that, your declaration already evoking his direct persuasions. "And how would you do that, Mr. Danforth?" You teased, "You know I don't play that shit with you."

He sighed into the phone, "Got something better then. You wanna relax, clear your head a bit? Fuck, I got it all for you," He implied what you thought he did, a slight weak spot that you didn't mind partaking in once in awhile.

He knew you were stressed with college, hence why you took this job in the first place; to ease the expenses you had to deal with. He also knew what you liked.

Still, who were you if one measly opportunity to get high bought you out?

"..And?" The word trailed off your tongue, drawing it out.

"I'll pay double tonight."

Too easy. "Fine."

You straightened yourself out, preparing to make up some lousy excuse to your friends of your departure. One that you knew they'd easily figure out.

"Text me the address."

Done. You heard the ding from the speaker of his phone alert him.

"Sending a car your way. Be out in 15."

You were intrigued by Derek.

Despite how much of an asshole he was, despite the privileged life that he's been able to live; the complete opposite of what you had been given.. you were intrigued by him.

The way he ticked, the way he carried himself.

The way everyone knew so much but so little about the President's son.

You almost felt special that his desires laid with you.

The roads that grew mundane to you towards Derek's estate made your heart race, the familiarity of it all still feeling so unbelievable to fathom.

You weren't like him; you were nothing like him. So, how in the hell did you get in this position?

The abrupt stop of the car you were in snapped you out of your head, and one of the workers Derek had around opened the door for you.

"Welcome back. Mr. Danforth has been waiting for you."

You smiled at the man and nodded, thanking him gracefully as you were led into the absurdly large residence you were still foreign to.

Before you could latch your eyes onto the man expecting you, his voice introduced himself into the room first, capturing your gaze.

"There's my girl. About time." Derek spoke loudly, and proudly at that, rushing towards you eagerly. He wore a blue suit with a cheetah print button up just underneath it, and you couldn't help but admit how nice it looked on him. His outfits could be outrageous at times, but it just worked with him.

You laughed at his remark. "I saw you two days ago, Derek."

He shook his head, grinning as he pressed a small kiss to your cheek. An affectionate gesture that you agreed to in your early days with him. "Two days, too long."

You rolled your eyes and gave him a small side hug, feeling a bit more eased at his calm demeanor. It seemed like he was completely different from the Derek you spoke to on the phone. Maybe he really did just need to see you.

But you? You had no idea why he chose you.

"Well, I'm here now.. What are you gonna do with me?" You tantalized, wanting to fuck with him as much as you could. The rules you set for yourself kept him in check, but you couldn't deny how fun it was to see him squirm.

You were confident, and you knew it. You knew he wanted you. But, you knew your worth, too. You weren't going to be so easy.

At least, not unless it was on your own circumstances.

He took a deep breath and put his hand on your lower back, beginning to lead you towards the abundant living room that he had all to himself. Matter of fact, he had the entire place to himself.

He glanced at your face as you took your steps, explaining himself clearly, "Just what you agreed to, baby. Got what you want right here." He took his hand off of you, walking towards the elegant box on the sofa table that he quickly opened up.

Pulling out something small, he lifted it up to you, revealing the perfectly rolled up joint that put a slight smirk on your face.

Well, here we fucking go.

"You're staying true to your word, Danforth. Just what I like to see," You commented, walking up to him, "Well, don't keep me waiting."

He shook his head and scoffed lightly, "Get comfortable, then."

He sat on the couch and patted next to him, and you followed right along, the lighter suddenly in his hand igniting to present the orange flame that flickered in your eyes.

He placed the joint in between his lips, lighter hovering above the end of it as it makes that familiar sound, papered edges burning crisp. He takes a drag of it, shutting his eyes as he lets the smoke fill his mouth before inhaling it into his lungs. A familiar warmth already seeping into the environment around you.

Without a second to waste, he urges you to come closer, muttering out a, "C'mere baby," before he places the tip of the joint in between your lips for you.

You quickly take the chance to take a drag yourself, repeating his every move as you shut your eyes blissfully, the herbal scent of it filling your nose from Derek's own smoke escaping his mouth.

"Yeah," He draws out, "There you go," He mutters as he watches you intently, taking in your hazy state as you evidently begin to relax. "Feels good?"

You swallow as you flutter your eyes back open to him, slight butterflies spreading to your stomach.

..That was the weed. Not him. Definitely not him.

You just nodded as he pulled it away from you, sleekly mustering out, "Great. Feeling better already."

He smirked at you and cocked his head, "Already? We're just gettin' started, babe."

You huffed and leaned back against the couch, getting yourself more comfortable as you shook your head, "Alright, Mr. Professional over here. I don't smoke as much as you, you know that." You sighed.

"I know, I know, m' just fucking with you. Besides, you got me here now, anyways," He teased, scooting a bit closer to you, "C'mon, open up." He urged you, taking another drag coolly, eyes stuck on you.

You quickly listened, lips parting to open wide, expecting the sudden smoke that filled the air to hit you. He blew it out in your face, making you giggle from the feeling as your lungs took it in.

He licked his lips as his gaze lingered on yours, lips slowly closing shut as your body increasingly felt lighter, the substance overwhelming your foggy brain.

The more the seconds passed, the more his eyes darkened, consuming you completely.

A part of you couldn’t help but like it.

There was something so sensual about it. You knew that; there was no denying it. And maybe it was the weed too, but fuck, did it feel good with him right now.

Right now, Derek Danforth was not the condescending asshole that you occasionally dreaded being around.

Right now, Derek Danforth was slowly becoming the one thing that you craved the most.

Fuck, it really was the weed.

"Give me that." You distracted yourself from your heavy thoughts, reaching for the joint in between his fingers. He handed it to you and leaned back against the couch himself, body angled to face you entirely.

He couldn't take his eyes off of you, and now, it was you who was bound to squirm.

You avoided his gaze, taking one last drag before giving it back to him eagerly. There was only so much you could take, and normally you'd want more, but you couldn't help but fear the possibility of any more of it multiplying these thoughts of him.

The feelings that you continuously needed to deny.

Your eyes locked onto the center table just in front of you, suddenly feeling incredibly curious about the intricately built legs that screamed wealth.

Now, he obviously wasn't as high as you, because the next thing that leaves his mouth sounds a bit too coherent for him to be.

"Don't know how you went this long without me."

Your head snapped to him at that, stomach suddenly tightening with confusion at his words. A direct, accusative statement you couldn't have possibly expected to hear from him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing. Just.. with college, with this, with experiences like this.. You need me. Obviously." He exclaimed confidently, as if you should’ve known that already.

There he was. The asshole.

You sharply inhaled, scoffing as you shook your head, staring down at your lap. Your hazy mind can't even help you form words, except for the one phrase that doesn’t do your defense any justice.

"I don't.. I don't need you." The tone of it is light, gentle as it rolls off your tongue, and you hate that you're not in the right headspace for this right now.

He laughs at that. The same laugh that always makes you stiffen, freezing in your place.

"You don't.. you don't need me?" He mocks you as he takes another drag from the joint, putting it out on the ashtray in front of him, "Everybody needs someone, baby.. You shouldn't try so hard to deny that." He taunts you, and you know that it's what he wants from you.

For you to lash out. For you to show him any ounce of vulnerability that you've managed to keep composed since this relationship began.

"Especially not from someone who treats you so.. Right." He whispers out, almost grimly as he leans in closer to you, face merely inches away.

You slowly turn your head now, facing him as you shut your eyes gauzily, mind still lost in your mix of emotions. You hate him; you want to hate him so badly, but you can't.

Some fucked up part of you can't let yourself.

But, that doesn't stop you from putting up a fight.

"You treat me.. right? Is that what you think?" You begin, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to hold yourself back, "You're an asshole, who treats everyone like shit, Derek."

He laughs, a cruel noise escaping his lips; an unexpected action that urges you on, pushing you further.

"You.. You completely disregard my feelings, my, my plans, everything in my life that doesn't have anything to do with you, you're unbearable, you—"

He cuts you off then, inching closer to you as he grins at that, "Then why the fuck do you stick around? If I'm so fucking unbearable, baby, why do you bother with me?"

"Because maybe.. there's some part of me that hopes you'll stop being such a piece of shit, Derek!" You explode now, aggravated and pushed to your limits. Pushed to show you care for him in some way.

Was this his plan all along?

You don’t know, but you let out one final remark, unable to control yourself now that you've already begun, "But, I don't fucking need you. You need me." You spit out, your seething glare locked on him.

"I need you?" He spews out, almost as if it's too unbelievable to even hear.

"Yeah, you need me."

"I need you?" He repeats bitterly.

You swallow, blatantly whispering, "You need me, Derek."

He continuously denies you, his composure slowly leaving him the more you open your mouth.

“I don’t need you. I don’t fucking need anyone.” He’s quick to say defensively as he turns away from you, refusing to allow you to get to him.

But, you know it now. You’re getting under his skin.

You press further, head closing in near his to make sure he hears your words loud & clear.

“You randomly pulled me out of my plans tonight and brought me here, Derek. What fucking for? I know you didn’t just need my fucking company. Not after you persuaded me to come. I know you better than that now.”

He shakes his head, rapid and tense, unknowingly egging you on.

“Why do you care about what the fuck I do? Who I see? Hell, even my fucking life! I thought this was all just business to you. What happened to that?”

He pauses then, processing it all. Something he's never been compelled to do before.

“..What happened to that, Derek?” You push, tone composed & steady now.

Before you can continue your little speech, before you can push him any further, he crumbles instantly; voice direct and harsh as he finally reviles into your exertions.

"I don’t—I don’t fucking know, okay! Yeah, maybe you're fucking right. Maybe that's why I always want you around. Maybe that's why you're the only fucking person that I ever want to be around. I—I just—"

“You just what?” You need to hear it, desperation seething through your voice.

He bursts out now, head turning to face you as he spits out his confession. “I can’t fucking think of anything else but you. I can’t be around anyone else without wishing it was fucking you.”

There it fucking is. But, he’s not done.

“You drive me fucking crazy, baby,” He laughs at himself, pathetic with his vulnerable words that no one else has ever gotten to hear, “And I don’t know what the fuck to do ‘cause I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but fuck, maybe I.. I do fucking need you, I don’t fucking—”

You can’t control the next thing you do.

Well, maybe you can, but you really don’t fucking want to.

It's your turn to cut him off now, after the countless times he’s done it to you; by placing your lips on his, eager and desperate as your hands slip from your lap to cup his face and pull him in close, chasing the high of his lips on yours.

He shuts his eyes as you do the same, swallowing sharply once you break it apart, eyes set on him as you await his response.

His wide eyes lock onto yours now, and he whispers out your name, shocked and unsteady, and almost in an attempt to stop you.

"God, just shut up for once." You interrupt him, pushing your lips back onto his before he can protest any further. He moans into your mouth, hands moving to grip your hips eagerly, his body closing in on you completely.

Let's just say, you don't feel so high anymore. You’re no longer confused.

You're more sure of this than anything in your fucking life.

part two should be coming this week! feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

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