#DID HE REMOVE ONE RIB FROM EACH SIDE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writingthroughmyass · 3 months ago

Text

Service Animal (Part Two)

Part one here

Part three here

WARNINGS: lotsa miscommunication and drama. Little bit of naughtiness but not much saving that for the next part ;)

You slowly come to, feeling relief at how dark it still is, meaning you have plenty of time left to sleep.

You snuggle further into your pillow, only to notice it's strangely hard. While you do use a memory foam pillow, it feels pretty firm compared to the usual. Plus… you thought you felt the prickle of hair. You nearly jump out of your skin when your pillow rises and falls.

My pillow is fucking breathing.

That's when you start to remember the events from last night. Your mind is still groggy as all hell but you're now aware that this is Logan, sleeping peacefully with your body wrapped around his like a koala on a tree, your head on his chest.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, you remove yourself from him and turn away, settling onto your side to get back to sleep.

You realise with a shock that he's followed you to your side of the bed and is spooning you.

He has a heavy arm around your waist and his chin on your shoulder, still sound asleep. You feel the overbearing heat from his body, his hand so casually resting near your hip.

His arm feels so thick and so hard against you. And it's not the only thing that's hard…

You feel yourself sweating bullets. This giant man has a giant erection against your ass.

You should feel violated but you don't. The dirty little part of your mind can't help but to appreciate just how big he feels. You give an experimental shimmy into his groin and you hear him groan behind you, sleepily rutting into you.

You freeze.

After a few moments you feel him still against you and release a heavy breath, falling back into deep slumber.

What the fuck do I do in this situations?

You can feel yourself starting to get wet. You squeeze your legs together, seeking some kind of relief. This feels like absolute torture. Fuck, what if he can smell you?

“Mmh… smells good,” he murmurs sleepily.

Your whole body jumps and you manage to smack Logan in the jaw with your shoulder, causing him to hiss loudly in pain.

“How long have you been awake?” you demand in horror, slightly turning to look at him.

His face is so close to yours that you're just about touching cheek to cheek.

“Fuck, well I'm proper awake now aren't I?” he grunts, rubbing his jaw, the stubble there grating loudly against your ears.

“S-sorry, are you alright?”

“Just peachy,” he says sarcastically.

He stops rubbing his jaw and turns slightly, so your noses slightly brush against each other.

You both freeze, the room goes silent and all that you can hear is the both of you breathing loudly.

You feel his breath fan across your skin as his lips move towards the corner of your mouth. Before they can touch, though, he stops himself, clearing his throat and moving away abruptly.

“You should get some sleep,” he says gruffly, moving back over to his side of the bed, turning away from you.

You feel yourself blink in confusion.

“Ah, okay… g'night then,” you say hesitantly.

Did I do something wrong? Was he… about to kiss me?

You felt silly for even entertaining the idea that he may be attracted to you in that way. He's a serial flirt. You can't take all his words and actions to heart or you'll only get hurt. Besides, you already know who his heart belongs to… and it's definitely not you.

You feel an ache behind your ribs, your heart beating hard and fast. How are you meant to get to sleep now?

You lay still, trying to calm your racing heart. Your mind still feels a bit muddled as it goes over the strange events of tonight. You think over Logan and his touches and his words and his actions and you… you feel your mind drifting away again as you manage to fall back to sleep.

–——————

You wake up to an empty bed. The loss of Logan's presence hits you harder than you thought it would.

You sit up, feeling groggy and your mouth feels absolutely disgusting. You must've been practically comatose.

You check your bedside for the time and see that it's already afternoon. You also see a glass of water that wasn't there previously.

Logan?

You take the glass and drink deeply.

It's not the first time this has happened to you; someone shows an interest in you then after playing around with you, they disappear without an explanation.

You felt stupid for getting into this situation with someone who was not only essentially a colleague but also a good friend. And you really had considered Logan a good friend. So yeah, this really sucked. And now you'd have to see him practically every day.

You groaned loudly and pulled yourself out of bed.

There was no way you could relax in bed now, knowing that Logan was possibly disgusted with you. Was it because you ground into his hard on with your hips? He was awake after all… he knew what you did and he was revolted. He was only trying to help you and you had to go and fuck it up with your horny brain. Plus you had to go and physically fucking assault him.

You began to feel sick to your stomach.

You slowly got yourself ready to leave your room so you could get a coffee and grab something to eat. You were dreading stepping out of your door in case you saw Logan. You couldn't bear to see the disgust on his face.

You opened your door and took a quick look around the hall. Confirming the coast was clear, you stepped out and headed for the kitchen.

You breathed a sigh of relief when you arrived at the kitchen, only to pivot back around when you heard a familiar gruff voice.

Logan.

He's talking to one of the students while smoking a cigar. Typical.

You're moving down the hallway when you hear his voice go quiet and you feel your chest clench, knowing he's probably caught a whiff of you.

You hear him call out your name and you manage to duck into an empty office before he turns the corner.

You hide behind the thick curtain in the room, holding your breath and praying he wouldn't find you.

No such luck. In no time at all you hear him in the room, sniffing.

“Bub, I know you're in here,” he grounds out.

You heave a heavy sigh and step out, plastering a fake smile on your face.

“Morning, Logan,” you say sheepishly.

“We are well into the afternoon,” he corrects you, one eyebrow raised. “Are you trying to hide from me?”

“No… I was just going to open the curtains in here to let in some light,” you say casually, pulling the curtains open to prove your point.

“Right,” he says, not sounding convinced. “How ya feeling?”

“I'm okay, just groggy. Much better than I was last night. I was really scared I'd lost touch with reality forever and I'd be a vegetable for the rest of my life.”

You were trying to lighten the mood but you knew you were just babbling.

You moved around him to the door, trying to ignore his alluring scent of leather, pine and just a whiff of his now snuffed cigar.

“Thanks again for last night,” you say quickly, your throat closing up. “I'm just gonna head to the kitchen now. See ya.”

You practically speed walk away, feeling your whole body heat in embarrassment. You could barely even look him in the eye, remembering what you'd done the night before. At least he was being nice about it to your face.

The next few days in the mansion proceed in a similar fashion- you exiting a room as soon as Logan enters it, avoiding his gaze, his presence.

You wanted to apologise but it was too horrifying to speak it into existence. Plus, you didn't want to hear him talk about how uncomfortable he felt.

You knew the right thing to do would be to bring it out into the open and discuss it properly, try to explain to him that you weren't in your right mind, you didn't mean to do it. But everytime you attempted to confront him, your anxiety got the best of you and you'd escape in a hurry.

You knew he noticed your strange behaviour too. There was no way he didn't, you were acting so weird but you didn't know how to stop. He'd call your name to get your attention and you'd just pivot around and speed away in the opposite direction. You could feel the anger emanating from him, building as the days went by. You knew you could only avoid him for so long.

You were on your way to your classroom when Ororo called out to you in the hallway.

“Hey, is everything okay?” you ask her.

“Why do you always assume something is wrong?” she chuckled.

“Well… is something wrong?”

“Yes,” she answers wryly. “It’s Logan. He’s been insufferable the last couple of days.”

“Ah,” you begin guardedly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She gives you a strange look before continuing, “Can you talk to him? He listens to you.”

“What makes you think he listens to me?” you ask, not even trying to hide your confusion.

“Because I have seen it for myself. I’d almost say he’s quite taken with you,” she says with a quirk in her lip.

You try to keep a straight face so she can’t see your embarrassment.

“Ororo, now you’re talking shit.”

“You have not noticed? How very like you,” she laughs as she begins to walk away. “Just talk to him, please. The mansion cannot take much more.”

As you continue on to your class, you contemplate Ororo’s words. What a strange thing for her to say. He certainly didn’t listen to you when you were yelling at him to shut up when he’d lost his shit on you the night you overused your powers.

And for her to say he’s “taken” with you? You knew Ororo was a fan of gossip and drama. Not in a malicious way, but she certainly enjoyed watching it unfold and even at times pushing some pieces to see the results.

While you felt you and Logan were both friends, at times you felt like at the very least he tolerated your presence, even all these years later.

He would greet you in the hallway and you’d feel a strange relief that you weren’t on his shit list that day. When he’d laugh at your jokes or brush his hand across your shoulder as he moved past you, you’d feel like you were seen. There were sleepless nights you’d spent together, watching movies with a smuggled six pack of beer or two. But there was nothing in your interactions with him that told you he may feel the same about you as you did about him.

Besides, Logan didn't exactly bother to hide his attraction to Jean, boyfriend or no.

But… when he held you in your shower… washed your hair… slept in your bed…

You tried to push these thoughts out of your mind as you taught your class. Having properly recovered from your “episodes,” you felt present and even happy as you explored your subject with your students. Art was an incredible mode of therapy for these kids, who had been through so much already despite their young age. It gave you a nice sense of purpose, running these classes, in a way that running missions didn’t.

The time seems to go quickly and before you know it everyone is packing their things to move to their next class.

“I’ll see you all next time! Enjoy the rest of your day, guys,” you say cheerily as they walk out, waving goodbye in your direction.

You turn around to face your desk so you can gather your belongings, only to nearly jump out of your skin when you hear a loud stomping coming towards you.

“Can you please talk to me?” a familiar voice barks at you.

You turn to see Logan stalking towards you.

“This is driving me up the fucking wall,” he shouts at you angrily. “Did I do something to piss you off?”

You wince at his tone.

“Geez, keep it down, would you? There are kids here,” you retort, managing to restrain your own agitation.

Why can’t he take the hint that I don’t want to talk to him yet?

“Sorry, Logan, I need to make it to my next class. But everything is fine, okay? Talk to you later.”

You move from your desk to leave the room but he moves faster, caging you against it with his arms on either side of your waist. His veins are visible in his arms from gripping the desk so forcefully.

You freeze with him towering above you, feeling equally afraid and strangely turned on.

“Nuh-uh, you're not getting away from me again,” he growls lowly. “Tell me what's wrong. Did I… did I do something?”

You can't bear to look at him. Especially when he's so close to you.

You pause for a few seconds, steeling yourself.

“Why… Why'd you leave that morning? Without saying anything?” you asked, answering his question with a question.

“Bub… I figured you needed the sleep. I didn't want to wake you before leaving. Is that really why you're upset?”

He must be able to read minds.

But no, you know that he just knows you so well now. And you've always been an open book, not very good at hiding your feelings even though you weren't verbal about them. You'd been friends and teammates for long enough that he could read your cues quite easily.

“Look, you know I don't sleep very well… I get night terrors, talk in my sleep,” he says, filling the silence. “And even sometimes… I might… do some things… that aren't exactly what you'd call appropriate…” he trails off.

You manage to look at him despite his intimidating position over you. He's not even looking at you, face pulled into a frown. There's something self conscious about the way he licks his lips, gaze averted.

You feel the guilt eating you up.

“Logan, I'm so sorry,” you choke out. “It wasn't you, it was me. I just wasn’t sure what to do and you… you were just there and…”

You feel like your head is about to explode. How on earth do you explain it without completely humiliating yourself? Without possibly losing his friendship?

“Wait… what are you talking about?” he asks in confusion.

You just wanted to decease on the spot.

“I… felt your… and I… sort of…r-rubbed? And you were only trying to help and I… I just thought you were asleep but it's no excuse and-”

“Wait, wait, hang on there, bub,” he hushes you. “Are you saying you… rubbed yourself against my Johnson?”

You feel your head spinning like crazy. You were so embarrassed you wanted the floor to swallow you whole. Gods why couldn't that be your power?

You hear him chuckling quietly and you sneak another look at him.

He's smiling.

“You're not… upset?”

“Upset? Why would I be upset?” he says, smirking at you.

“I- I mean you were just trying to help me and I… I feel like I took advantage of you.”

He starts laughing so hard that his face nearly collides with your shoulder. Despite the tension you felt, you couldn’t help but feel a little flutter behind your ribs in reaction to his smile, his laugh.

“Is this why you've been avoiding me? You've just been embarrassed?” he says, still laughing.

You were beginning to think you were overthinking the whole situation. But there was still something bothering you…

“That night… you were close to-,” you swallow thickly. Fuck, your throat is dry. “You were about-about to kiss me and… or I thought you were? But you turned away and… I thought I made you upset because I…”

You feel your chin lift as he firmly but gently grips it to make you look at him. He looks into your eyes, darting from your eyes to your lips. Your heart is racing, your lower stomach is on fire with… something you think must be desire.

“You had a really bad night,” he begins slowly. “You weren't all there to put it lightly. It wouldn't have been right of me to have taken advantage of you like that. I want you to be fully present. I want you to want it.”

“Want… want what?” you ask quietly, trying not to let your hopes soar too high.

You blink and his mouth is on yours. He's kissing you hungrily, making your toes curl. Instinctively, you kiss him back with just as much fervour, your hands on his broad chest. His hand goes from your chin to the back of your neck, holding you steady with his other hand on your waist. He licks into your mouth and you can't help the moan that escapes you. His knee moves to rest between your legs and you unconsciously grind against it, seeking relief.

He pulls away too soon for your liking.

“That,” he says, answering your question. But your mind is miles and miles away, not registering what he said. Your noses are touching, foreheads close together.

He wasn't disgusted with you. He wants you. Like how you want him. You feel relief that you can admit that to yourself now. That you've always harboured a little crush on your good friend, Logan.

His pupils are blown, breaths coming heavy and fast. You realise you must be the same.

You inch your face towards him when the sound of someone clearing their throat makes you shove Logan bodily away from you.

“Please, take this somewhere else, if you'd please,” Charles chastises you both, a small smile on his face. “I need this room for my students. Don't want it turning into a biohazard, now, do we?”

“S-sorry, professor,” you yelp. “We'll leave you to it.”

You grab Logan by the wrist and hurry out of the room.

“You have another class, too, don't you?” Logan asks once you've left the room.

“No, that was a lie,” you say unashamedly.

“So you're free right? Well in that case…”

Get ready for some smushing in the next part ya'll. Hope you enjoyed!

#dude i posted this whole ass shit and bloody forgot to tag it #logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #X-Men #xmen #Logan Howlett imagine #wolverine imagine #ass writes stuff #edit: wtf just realised i forgot to link part three to this post????

255 notes · View notes

angelwings-crossbowstrings · 8 months ago

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 23

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore; a tad bit of angst; smidge of illness; all the pregnancy woes in the world; some suggestive dialogue A/N: There's some serious fluff in this. I tried so hard to keep Daryl in character while having him offer all he could to a person doing something precious for him. I hope I succeeded. The explanation of midnight blue is a little bit of self indulgence. It's my own favorite color and the reason why. I know I skipped the nursing home scene but I took the liberty of adding into the timeline somewhere as a mention.

The events of the day before had ended in the most amusing way, with you nearly inviting Carol in before getting dressed.

“She knows what tits and a vagina look like, Daryl.”

“She don’t know what my dick looks like, Y/N!”

“Touche, sir.”

All ended well and Carol saw no genitalia that fine day.

You had officially worn one another out. After the Tylenol and Carol’s snickers and knowing smiles, you and Daryl fell onto the pillows and slept until the next morning. The fever remained, albeit burning less and less hot each time the old man would look him over. His lungs were sounding better. Hershel removed the IV when the archer proved he could keep up with hydrating and promised to take it easy. Of course, he would. He had you as his warden.

The next evening, after a bowl of hearty stew with the venison you had brought back,—two bowls for Daryl—you laid in bed. He wasn’t complaining, for once, and actually seemed to be close to falling asleep. It had been a relief to watch him eat well, even if he did try to share the second bowl. You were feeling a little nauseated, sharing that knowledge honestly when you turned down his offering. Your condition had definitely improved, the severity of the occurrences much less concerning. Things were actually okay.

“Daryl?” You licked your suddenly dry lips but continued drawing patterns on his bare chest from your spot against his side with his arm wrapped around you. He hummed, his usual reply, eyes remaining closed while his thumb swept back and forth over your ribs. When you didn’t answer right away, he pulled you a little closer. It was unclear if it was intentional or not.

“What?” He cleared his throat, his voice still gravelly.

“Can we—I’d like to know more about you.” Your timid request must have snagged his attention because he was shifting your bodies to lie face to face, one hand below his cheek and the other rubbing small circles just over where the baby had finally stopped tap dancing. He was giving you that look, the squinted eyes that scrutinized someone for any indication of dishonesty or hidden agenda. He should know you better than that by now, but you remained quiet.

“Whaddaya wanna know?” He finally queried, his hand going still but remaining where it was.

“Anything. Everything.” You shrugged your available shoulder. “If we’re gonna do this—be an us—then we need to know one another, don’t you think?” He started tapping a finger against your abdomen.

“S’your favorite color?”

You huffed a laugh through your nose, scrunching it with a smile. “Midnight blue. What’s yours?” He pulled a face, curiosity shining through.

“Why midnight?” He asked with a sniff, shuffling around a bit on the pillow.

“Because even though I know it isn’t, I like to think that’s the color of the night sky. Not black, but dark blue and full stars. Black is nothing, it’s lonely, but to think of it as blue. It’s a little more comforting.” The archer gave you a thoughtful look, the corner of his mouth ticking upward so minutely that anyone else would have missed it. Not you. “Now, what’s yours?”

He mimicked your earlier shrug. “Dunno. Don’t really got one, I guess.” Your silence beckoned him to explain. After moving his hand from below his cheek to chew on the side of his thumb, he eventually elaborated. “Grew up learnin’ to ‘preciate all’a ‘em. House was—it was always dark, ‘specially after mama died. When my old man—I spent a lot’a time outside. Noticed things. Blue sky’d turn a bit purple before it’d snow, even if it was just a lil’. Grass—it’d be green but have those brown pieces where I’d walk all’a the time. Creek looked muddy unless ya stood in it. Then ya’d see the bottom an’ how the water’d catch the light. Sometimes it’d be blue, sometimes kinda green. Just depended on the day.” His gaze had dropped away from you at some point, focused on the miniscule area of bed sheets between your bodies.

You were glad for it because your eyes had started to fill and shine. You were granted the opportunity to blink back the tears before he looked up. Daryl was so much more than anyone had given him credit for, than anyone had been willing to learn. Carol had told you a story about an exchange with Andrea, when she had taken a jab at what she thought was his limited vocabulary.

“Get a dictionary. Look it up. Observant.”

“D’ya like dogs or cats?” He asked so suddenly that you nearly flinched, realizing that you had just been staring at some point past his head for an undetermined amount of time. There was no way he hadn’t noticed.

“I like both, but I’m a dog person.” You frowned. Having a dog would probably be something your child would never get to experience. “You?”

“Dogs. Cats ain’t trustworthy.” It was such an amusing thing to say with such a straight face. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Wait, I need to hear this.” You caught him staring at your lips, maybe watching you laugh or maybe he wanted to kiss you. Both? You pretended not to notice.

“Dogs’re smart but cats’re calculated. Make ya think they’re all innocent when they ain’t. Always up to somethin’.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re afraid of cats.” You smirked, absently reaching to run your fingers through his hair. Daryl made a disgruntled sound and shook his head to stave off your attempts.

“Ain’t afraid’a ‘em. Just don’t trust ‘em.”

“Right.” You nodded, face falling into feigned seriousness before it became real, your next question burning inside your chest, just below the fear you’d need to surpass to ask. He was likely to shut down the session, maybe even close off completely. You could always hope he’d begun to trust you enough to open up, even if only a little, but the prospect suddenly seemed so far away. “Daryl.”

“Ask.” He was looking right into your eyes with a hint of determination you’d seen before when the circumstances were different, dire even. Was that how he saw this? A dire situation that could result in you being gone in some way?

“Who—what happened?” You let a single fingertip press gently against the deepest scar on his chest, your eyes lingering on it for but a moment before you contradicted his intensity with tenderness. Not pity, but a gentle curiosity. A request to allow you to understand.

“My dad—he was never a good man.” He swallowed hard. “Got worse after mama died. She drank. Fell asleep with a smoke, burned up in our house.” His fingers were plucking at the small space between you, a fine tremor in his hand. He pulled it out of your reach when you reached for it. “Didn’t know what to do with us, I guess. Me an’ Merle—my brother.” The brother that Rick had left behind in Atlanta, the brother who was likely dead. Yet another relative your baby would never know. “Merle tried to—he’d take the beatin’ when he could, did his best. Booked it outta there when he couldn't take it no more. Joined the army.” His eyes were wet, but he sniffed and cleared his throat. “Wasn't nothin’ standin’ between me an’ the old man then—between me an’ the belt. The cigarettes.” He fell silent, clearly finished with talking about his parents.

“Tell me about Merle?” You ventured, shot down with a shake of his head against the pillow.

“Ain’t your turn.” He sniffed again. “Your mama—tell me ‘bout your mama.” It wasn’t exactly a question, more of a soft demand; an it’s only fair. You didn’t mind. You’d accepted her abandonment long ago. You had been content with the amazing father with whom you were gifted.

“She booked it. We didn’t have a lot of money, and she never really wanted me in the first place. Tucked tail and ran the first chance she got.” You shrugged, unbothered beyond the twinge of guilt you felt for being so okay with the hand you had been dealt while Daryl struggled to even think about his past. “I didn’t even miss her. I mean, it sucked at first. I always felt bad, watching daddy struggle. So, I learned to help and that was that.”

He was so obviously jealous, yet another emotion that he didn't know how to process. You saw the anger flare before he doused it, returning to a solemn state of silence. He was awaiting your question, wherein you found a dilemma. Did you push through the conversation about his family? Or did you switch to something else, give him a break?

“Thank you for trusting me.” When you reached for him then, he didn’t pull away. His mask cracked and a few pieces fell away, but he held the rest steady. “That’s enough for now, okay? If you have more questions, I’ll answer them. Gladly. But you’ve shared enough, okay?” When he studied you, you didn’t let him proceed with his usual scrutiny. “It’s fine, Daryl. We can talk more when—if—you ever want to again. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

He accepted the out with a long exhale and a nod, his gaze falling away. You embraced the silence and its discomfort, just touching him while he was in a place to allow it. You stroked his cheek, the stubble thicker than usual with his confinement to the bed. You smoothed his hair, scratched gently over his scalp. Finally, you scooted closer and pulled him toward you to meet in the middle. Tangling your legs around his, you guided his head to rest under your chin. He let you without complaint or denial, a testament to how he had silently endured when he needed comforting.

The two of you laid there, his breaths evening out to the point where you thought he had fallen asleep. Then, breaking the silence, he cleared his throat. “Why me?” You pulled back just enough to angle your head and look at him.

“Why you what?”

“Why ya settlin’ with me? We can raise a kid together without you givin’ up a chance with someone better.” He took a deep breath, keeping his head down. “I won’t hold ya to it if ya change your mind later—if someone shows—”

“There’s no one better.” You nearly snapped at him, your tone harsher than you’d ever meant for it to be. He flinched and you instantly hated yourself for it. You’d seen someone’s quick movements earn that reaction before, but words hardly affected Daryl physically, not like that. “Daryl.” You silently pleaded with him to look at you, but were left disappointed. “There’s no one better.” You repeated, so softly that it was almost a whisper, your breath disturbing his hair. “I want to raise this baby with you. I want to be with you. I love you. That’s not gonna change.”

He simply hummed, the sound reverberating against your throat. You wanted to throttle him, but none of his self-deprecation was his fault. You hated people you didn’t even know for it. “Don’t deserve all this.” Your brow furrowed deeply at his words. “Feel like m’gettin’ somethin’ meant for someone else. Like m’takin’—” The words died on the tip of his tongue. What could you even say to that? You could tell him he deserved the world—the fucking universe—but he’d never believe it. You’d just have to show him. It would take time and patience that would likely be tested over and over, but he was worth it.

“You’ll see.” You settled back against him, let silence fall between you again. After a while, he actually did fall asleep, the tension you had noticed in him finally melting away into a restful state he so desperately needed in order to continue getting well. A kiss was pressed into his hair. You never fell asleep yourself, simply lying there with him. Your heart ached yet it was full. With your fingers traveling up and down his back in gentle motions you hoped were comforting even within his dreams, you told him again. “You’ll see.”

Daryl was coughing strenuously by the time you reached the truck, his hand pressed hard against his chest. The cold air, the rush of grabbing up all the bags, the running from the herd—it was taking its toll on his still healing body.

“Keys.” You demanded. “I’m driving.” You could see it on his face that he was going to argue, but he doubled over in another fit of coughs and deep, wheezing gasps. Digging in his pocket through the ordeal, he tossed you the keyring. The bags you two were responsible for were tossed into the back next to the bike. It took the archer two attempts to pull himself onto the bench seat, which required the effort of both your bodies to move back in order to accommodate your 30 week bump. Just as your door closed, a discolored hand slapped against the window, startling you into a shout.

The van was already moving when you pressed the gas to peel out behind it, mowing down at least three walkers. Dark blood splattered onto the windshield, smearing but mostly washing away when you used the partially frozen fluid and wipers. Daryl’s forehead was against the dashboard as he fought to catch his breath in the chilled air. You were fumbling for the temperature controls when he smacked your hand away.

“Just—just drive. I got it.” He rasped, the warming air filling the cab a moment later. His back thudded against the seat, shaking it slightly, his head falling back against the headrest with his eyes closed. He was finally sucking in gulps of air into irritated, partially healed lungs. When you reached a point that was safe enough to pull off, you would make sure the group remembered his state of health and didn’t travel for too long before finding anything suitable and safe enough for a stay of at least a few days. “Quit your worryin’, woman. M’good.”

“Just don’t, Daryl.” You argued quietly, desperate to keep the peace between the pair of you that you’d managed to create. “Let me worry. If you don’t fight me on it, I’ll be less likely to do something stupid.” You glanced over, finding his head rolled toward you, his jaw set but he relented with a jerk of his head.

“Fine. Just have ‘em find whatever. S’long as it keeps your ass right here beside me.”

You smiled and silently celebrated your victory, even as he noticed and grumbled beside you. When you placed your hand, palm up, on the seat between you, only a heartbeat passed before you felt him squeezing your fingers.

Roughly eight weeks left, though Hershel said you could safely deliver if you made it at least four more weeks. You were actually becoming slightly miserable. The nausea would come and go, though you actually vomited less and less. Your ankles were missing completely under the puffy skin. Your belly felt so heavy that even just standing was becoming a chore. Lori was sympathetic, constantly giving you advice. Not only you but Daryl as well. You had seen her whispering to him, watched the way he would go completely still, not looking at her but listening intently. Rick could give him all the advice in the world but Lori’s input was crucial. She knew exactly what you needed.

The archer argued with you less and less, though you could see the restraint it took for him to bite his tongue, sometimes literally. He let you hunt with him because you were restless. Lori had said it was because of the urge to start nesting, which you had found amusing, but Daryl already knew about it because of the damn books he continued to snatch up on runs. Why it frustrated you that he was willing to go that extra mile was beyond your comprehension. Maybe because he knew more about what was going on with your body than you did? You should have been grateful, but all you wanted to do was kick him in the shins.

“Can ya just—nevermind.” He grunted from behind you while the two of you tracked some turkeys. You knew they’d be in the trees for the cold weather so you kept your eyes upward, irritating the hunter when you would nearly trip or run into something. Still, he kept his cool, which was admirable for your hot-headed partner. Daryl didn’t like the term boyfriend, you’d discovered during a brief conversation where you’d found your tongue looser than normal and spilling out questions you’d otherwise never ask. The two of you had settled on being partners, though you didn’t feel it was enough to describe your relationship. He had simply shrugged.

You couldn’t hunt with a gun. He’d all but forbade it. Too loud, would draw walkers. So he found you a bow. Not a crossbow but a traditional one. It didn’t take much practice. You only needed to become familiar with the tension of the string, how far to pull for the trajectory and speed needed. Aiming came naturally.

“Shut up, Daryl. I’m fine.” You snapped, instantly muttering an apology. It was but wasn’t his fault you felt so crappy. It took two to make the baby whose little foot or hand or whatever was always pressing into your ribs. You were just as responsible and tried to remember that even when it was you and not him that felt like absolute shit most of the time. As if the world was hellbent on fucking with you, the toe of your boot found its way beneath an exposed root and you nearly faceplanted. If not for Daryl’s constant observance, you surely would have.

He snagged your bicep, dropping his crossbow to reach across your chest and grip your other shoulder. All you needed was a dislocated shoulder when you were already so beyond miserable. He made sure you stayed on your feet, nearly stumbling himself, but saying nothing when you found his irritated but concerned gaze. The weight of it instantly brought on the sniffling you knew was about to lead to a breakdown.

Over the course of only three weeks, the archer had memorized the signs and adapted, learning how to soothe you even at the expense of his own comfort. He immediately pulled you into his arms as close as he could with your ever-growing belly between you, shushing you and rubbing your back.

“S’alright. I won’t letcha fall.”

Noble as his intentions were, that only seemed to stir up even more guilt. “I don’t know why I can’t just listen when you tell me I should stay behind! Why do you let me just do whatever I want even when you know it’s the wrong choice?!” You rubbed your wet face against his button up, leaving a dark spot and not for the first time.

“Cause you’re hard-headed an’ feelin’ like crap. Only make ya feel worse for me to argue with ya.”

And just like that, the switch flipped. “I’m not hard-headed, Daryl! I’m fucking capable and everyone wants to treat me like I’m gonna break!” You pushed him away roughly and stomped forward, sniffling harder than necessary. You heard a sigh from behind you, the sound of him picking up his crossbow and before following at a distance.

When you shot down the turkey, even beyond the pride you felt carrying it back, something told you that he saw it first but didn’t even raise his weapon.

Carol had heated some water for you so you could wipe down, feeling like your skin was crawling after being in the woods all day. It was a foreign feeling for the leaves and cool, fresh air to feel like it stuck to your flesh and needed to be scrubbed away. You were a mess. Your body hurt and you constantly needed to pee. You were irritable. You’d want Daryl to fuck you one minute and then shove him away the moment he touched the slick apex of your thighs. You were torturing the poor man who didn’t have a clue how to provide the type of comfort you needed when he couldn’t even process how to overcome his own lack of it growing up.

You didn’t hear him enter the room as you bowed over the small sink in the dusty bathroom, your skin still damp beneath your long sleeved shirt and flannel sleep pants. You had washed your hair to the best of your ability, the wet strands forming a curtain around your face that blocked your view of the door. You didn’t startle when you felt the heat of his body behind you. It was familiar at that point in a way you couldn’t explain.

“I’m so sorry, Daryl.” You whispered, the syllables of his name coming out as a soft whimper. His hands settled on your hips, fingers flexing nervously.

“S’okay.” He stepped closer and you fully expected to feel his erection press against your ass, but that wasn’t the case. There was only the firm safety of his body, your human security blanket. “Wanna—can I try somethin’?” His voice shook beside your ear but his hands remained steady, digits still squeezing and releasing. Not trusting your voice, you nodded, his exhale warm against your neck.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were expecting but it certainly wasn’t his warm palms sliding beneath your belly and lifting with more gentleness than you were aware a human being could possess. The absence of the weight pulling down was an instant relief, your muscles turning to jello. You leaned back against him and he kept you upright, silently offering you comfort and succor that your body didn’t even know it needed.

“Fuck.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed and head laying back against his shoulder. The tears came when his lips pressed against your temple, wordlessly expressing his gratitude for what you were enduring. “Thank you.” Your own appreciation trembled over your lips, whether toward the man at your back or a god you weren’t sure you believed in for putting him there.

#murda writes #blood ties #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fluff #pregnant!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon the walking dead

366 notes · View notes

bettyfrommars · 3 months ago

Text

Death Becomes Us

vampire!Eddie x supernatural!Reader

Part 11: Strange Blood

masterlist playlist

18+only, smut, unprotected piv, oral, blood drinking, mind-bending moments, supernatural elements, vampires, fear of the unknown. Hopper and vampire!Joyce, werewolf!Steve, and a few others.

word count: 12.4k

Summary: All I can say is that this is another wild one, lmao. Not an action-packed rollercoaster like the previous chapter, but definitely some odd things going on. You know me, it gets a bit wacky. It's been my honor to be on this journey with you, and I hope you enjoy this final chapter. I love you, dear readers.

A/N: Hi everyone who has patiently waited for more of this story, Betty finally did it! I had a hard time coming back to this one only because I wasn't sure in which direction I wanted to take it. Oh, and also, I forgot how to write there for a while but anyway, the previous chapter was such chaos, and I wanted to take them in a different direction, so I did. Although this is the end of the series, there is still plenty I want to write for the True Blood universe, so this will not be the end.

------

this picks up right where part 10 left off

“I have dreams about you too, you know,” Eddie said softly from the edge of the bed. Shirtless and quickly healing after the bullets were removed, he used both hands to pull his hair into a ponytail, and then released it.

Sweat bloomed on your scalp, and all you could do was swallow thickly, spinning on your heel to head for the hallway.

“I’m sorry if what I said was too much,” you babbled in a rush. “We can just forget—”

Eddie hopped up to snatch your hand. “Hey wait—don’t,” he heard the harsh desperation in his voice and then softened it to a whisper. “Please.”

You stopped in your tracks and let him tug you backwards slowly, step by step.

Before he could put his arm around your waist, you turned on a dime, sliding fingers along the cool ripples of his ribs, watching his parted lips, the way his breath hitched in surprise. It felt like there was no time and no distance in between his mouth and yours; suddenly they clashed together and your hand made a fist in his hair.

He wasn’t expecting it, but neither were you, and it was a breathless, awkward meeting of teeth for a moment. Stumbling back so that his legs hit the back of the bed frame, Eddie toppled to the mattress, taking you with him.

You weren’t sure if it was the tension that had been building between the two of you, or the adrenaline from the recent vampire massacre that happened right outside your door, but you devoured each other like it was the last day of immortality.

For as much of a prick as he could be out in the real world, Eddie was gentle and eager, taking your clothes off with trembling hands so that he didn’t rip them before he tasted you from face to hip, kissing down the jagged scar on your sternum while you clung to his head and writhed.

It was more than foreplay to him; his attention was a form of worship, the next best thing to running his mouth was filling it full of you.

You clawed at his belted black jeans and he smiled against your kiss. “So, does this mean you like me?”

Your eyes locked while you helped to push his denim jeans down to his hips, your heart in your throat. “You need me to say it?”

“You don’t have to, but I’ll say it,” he lifted up on his forearms, his hair tickling your cheeks from the way he hovered over you, one dimple popping up from his crooked smile. “I really really dig you.”

“Show me,” you whispered, lifting to slide your nose along his, making a shiver run through him.

“As you wish, m’lady,” he chuckled, pushing his jeans all the way off and kicking them to the side with such force that they hit the wall.

He had no right to be so gorgeous, you thought, running hungry hands down the icy, tattooed flesh of his stomach where the bullet holes had already healed. A single whisper of, “I wanted this for so long,” came out in a breathy whisper when he intertwined his fingers with yours.

Being pressed up against your skin made him feel like he was standing too close to a raging bonfire, like maybe his body hairs would get singed. He wanted to beg you to leave a mark on him; the branding iron of your touch to claim his animated corpse.

He made you come with his mouth first, growling into you as you shook and fluttered on his tongue. His skill level suggested that it was not his first rodeo by far, but you could tell he was listening and learning about the things that felt best to you, the right speed and pressure that made you cry out his name and claw at his skin. He wanted to please you—more than that, Christ—he wanted to be the only one.

Eddie fucked you into next week. Each of you were sweaty and depraved, but his saliva felt like melting ice, and you could almost hear it sizzle when it met your heat. Tongues wrestling together, moaning sweet and filthy things until you were bouncing on top of him, hips snapping up to meet you, cumming so hard you thought you might explode into vapor.

His fangs latched onto the side of your throat after you begged for it, making everything messy and sticky. You liked hearing the way he whined when the tang of your blood hit his tongue, the way he fed from your vein, sealing the wound with a few kitten licks. At one point, with crimson dripping down either side of his chin, he was taking you from behind and his hips stuttered.

“Roll over,” he rumbled. “I need to see you.”

And that was how he came, buried deep with his eyes locked on yours, spilling every drop until he was almost convulsing. He sliced a cut on his chest with the fingernail of his thumb, and coaxed you up to drink from him, moaning at your insatiable hunger, the way you moaned into him.

Eddie might’ve been lost in the heat of the moment, but he knew what he felt for you was more than just… “like”. His head spun when you whimpered things like, “deeper Eddie, cum inside of me.”

It’d been years since he’d slept with someone he cared about, but even then, it wasn’t like with you. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as the gentle kisses you planted on his palm before sucking his fingers while you rode him.

Yeah, he had it bad for you.

Neither of you bothered to clean up once the pace began to slow down. He rolled onto his side to make out with you with dried blood in the corner of his mouth, not ready to end what you just shared, for fear it would never happen again.

No one who mattered ever stuck around.

He ran a tender thumb over the scar on your cheek that was also caked with a line of crimson. “So, you were in a…car accident?” He asked in a whisper.

“Apparently I died,” you laughed to soften the harsh truth of it. “My father tried…” you trailed off, and Eddie was about to say you didn’t have to talk about it, but then you continued. “I guess you could say he exchanged his life for mine.”

“I wish I could’ve met him,” he trailed off, tracing your eyebrow with his finger. He interlocked his fingers with one of your hands and held it to his chest. “Tell him how grateful I am.”

“He would’ve liked you,” the thought of never being about to introduce Eddie to your father made tears swell. Eddie scooped you closer, pulling your leg up by the crook of your knee to wrap your thigh over the sticky length of his cock.

“This is nice,” he hummed, eyelids flickering shut to the feeling of your warm breath on his shoulder. “Stay with me for a minute?”

The two of you dozed off, and you awoke to Eddie shooting upright into a seated position with a jolt.

“Shit, it’ll be dawn soon,” he hissed, head spinning to look at the digital alarm clock by your bed.

You sat up too, looking at the big window with thin white curtains that could never block the potentially murderous rays of the sun.

“I could cover it with…something else? A comforter?” You hurried to shuffle off the mattress, suddenly panicked at the thought of what would happen if he was exposed to daylight.

He was up and yanking his jeans on. “These windows are a death trap,” but then a thought made him smile to himself. “I guess if my time comes, I’d want it to be with you.”

“Your time has NOT come, okay?” You hastily pulled a t-shirt on from one of your drawers. “I refuse to let the best sex of my life go without a fight.”

He cocked his head with a blushing smirk and repeated his question from earlier. “Does that mean you like me?”

“Stop it,” you playfully shoved him on your way by, scooting a pair of shorts up your hips. “This is serious.”

“Oh it’s very serious,” and then he caught your hips with both hands before you could get too far away and pulled you back.

“Let’s get you to a safe place first,” you muttered against his lips. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A loud thud banged on the roof like a good sized rock landed from the sky, and you both knew it was Bela returning from wherever she’d been for the past few hours to avoid the danger. When You turned the light on in the living room, Dio stretched and yawned from her position curled up on the arm of the couch.

From where you stood at the mouth of the hallway near the kitchen, you could see the front of Eddie’s trailer through the courtyard facing window. A few steps more and you could see half of it, somehow unscathed by the fire.

Surely, your eyes were playing tricks on you.

Maybe it was the backside that had been affected by the flames? Maybe it was still too dark to see, but the sun would be up soon enough—

“Eddie?” You motioned for him to follow you, to see what you were seeing, and then you stood side by side, dumfounded.

Surely, most of his house should’ve been nothing but a pile of charred wreckage.

An eerie feeling of fear washed over you, making your eyes dart over to the television screen, waiting for a face to appear like Brenner’s had the night before.

“Something’s wrong,” you whispered. “How could your trailer survive the fire without a scratch?”

Eddie’s pinky hooked onto yours when he couldn’t find the words.

You let out a heavy sigh a beat later when you figured it out. “This is another dream, isn’t it? Of course it is.”

“No, no way,” he shook his head, paying attention to the horizon that would soon light up with his demise. “There’s no way we would be in the same dream like this. This is real.”

Seeing Bela sail in the front door and land clunkily on the top of the TV gave you a huge amount of relief. You patted the top of her smooth head a few times, thankful to have her as a constant.

“Be right back,” Eddie said just before he did that vampire thing and zipped outside at the speed of light. You watched him dart in and out of his trailer, and then he was back at your side again.

“That’s my trailer, all right,” hands crossed over his chest, he gnawed his lower lip in contemplation. “Nothing’s missing, nothing was burned. Even my guitar is over there, when I know I brought her here. Doesn’t make any fucking sense.”

“No it doesn’t,” you agreed softly. You should’ve been grateful his trailer was untouched, but instead it filled you with dread.

Eddie turned, eyes narrowing on the deep orange creeping over the mountains.

“I need to get underground,” he started looking around, like maybe he could dig a quick hole in the floor. Instead, he went over to the western style couch with wagon wheels and cowboys on the upholstery and inspected it.

“Have you ever checked behind here?” He asked.

“No,” you frowned. “Why would I?”

In one effortless swoop, he moved the piece of furniture away from the wall and then stood back.

There was a door built into the carpeted floor near the wall, complete with a handle and lock. At first you couldn't see it, because it was covered in orange shag to match the rest of the living room. You rested your tongue between your teeth, dumbfounded.

“Yeah so that’s a Sunlight Safe Room,” he scratched his head. “They were built into all of the trailers way back in the day. I just never thought to check for yours until now.”

He pushed the couch to the middle with Dio still asleep on the armrest. “Call me paranoid, but I don’t want to be too far from you,” he knelt to open it. “I can stay out of the sun here, if that’s okay?”

You were tempted to “go to rest” with him just so he wouldn’t somehow disappear like the evidence of the fire had. Inside the hatch were ten metal steps downward that opened to a modest concrete area with a twin mattress on the floor.

It looked creepy as hell, like something you’d see in a horror movie like Silence of the Lambs.

“I’ll get you a pillow,” you turned, but he called your name.

“There’s no time,” he was halfway down the steps. “I’ll see you after dusk, okay?”

You didn’t know why you were so afraid to be without him, but you nodded.

“I’ll lock it from the inside,” he said as he pulled the door down and descended. “Stay safe okay? I’ll still be able to feel you if you’re in danger.”

He wanted to say something else to you, words that were clenching on his heart, but then worried it might be too soon.

Bela threw her head back and screeched, stretching out her wings.

“Okay.” You gulped. “I’ll miss you.”

He smiled generously at that, just as the neon light of morning blossomed over the trailer park and you heard the click of the lock on the inside of his…what would you call it? Tomb? No, it was a Vampire Safe Room.

You shifted the sofa back in place and crossed your arms over your chest to stand and stare out the window at the untouched gnome on Eddie’s front steps, still flipping you the bird.

If only its impish mouth could talk.

—-------

After dozing off on the sofa above Eddie for a few hours, you snapped awake flooded with fear that everything had gone back to “normal”. But the door in the floor was still there, and Eddie was still in it; you could hear him snort-snore every so often. The sound made you feel a tidal wave of relief.

If you’d somehow slipped into another dimension, at least you still had Eddie.

You took Dio back over to Eddie’s untouched trailer, just in case Bela forgot her manners, and you asked your demobat companion to keep an eye on Eddie while you were gone. She chirped a few times, swaying back and forth to let you know she understood while she munched on chopped up bananas. She wasn’t very hungry, but the claws on her wings had a hint of blood on them, and you figured she found something to eat in the woods, but you didn’t want to know what.

You hadn’t touched your Polaroid camera in a while, but you used it to snap a photo of Bela then, with her gnarly grin stuffed with banana mash, and then you clapped the land camera shut and put it in your bag.

There was not a single thing amiss in the courtyard of the Crimson Terrace trailer park. No blood in the dead grass, no tracks from all of the vehicles and the crowds, and your hearse did not have a single new scratch.

You shot a glance over your shoulder where Bela perched in the window, wondering if it was a good idea to leave Eddie defenseless like that with how weird everything was. You shivered and zipped up the rest of your hoodie.

On your way around to unlock the driver’s door, your landlord Dolores spotted you from four trailers away and came out to wave you down. She wore one of her signature muumuus with pink curlers in her short, auburn hair. .

You flinched as you walked up her three steps to the small porch, thinking she’d interrogate you about all of the chaos, or have an issue with you spending time with your vampire neighbor.

But it wasn’t a scolding she wanted to give you; it was a letter.

Adressed to you with no return address, the envelope was weathered yellow like it had traveled across the ocean by rowboat, and then the rest of the way by horse and buggy. She’d found it on her doorstep that morning.

“Thanks,” you said absently, turning it over in your hand as you walked off. You waited until you were safely behind the wheel and down the street before you opened it, trembling.

The piece of parchment inside was wispy thin, but the date was somehow...exactly a year from the day you were in.

That had to be a mistake. The person just messed up the numbers, it happens.

You’re probably very co fused right ow.

That was how the letter started.

You stared at the words with dry, unblinking eyes, noticing that the letter “n” was missing from the typeset.

You folded the paper over in your lap and checked to see if anyone was nearby watching. You bit on the cuticle of your pinky finger for a few seconds before opening it again.

You’re i a slightly differe t timeli e ow. That’s all I ca say without revealing too much. Ma y thi gs will be differe t, but some will be the same.

A laugh bubbled in your throat; one of those insane laughs appropriate for absolute absurd things. It had to be a joke, one that you did not find particularly amusing.

A different timeline? How was that even possible? You’d been introduced to many odd things you never previously believed existed, but this one was a little more difficult to wrap your brain around.

Whe the time is right, everything will be revealed. U til the , stay safe.

It wasn’t signed, and there was no hint as to who or where it had come from.

You turned the weathered, creased paper over as if there might be a photo of the author, and then you stared out the dirty windshield, letting it sink in.

The most bonkers thing about it was that it actually made sense. It was the only possible explanation for there being no sign of any of the wreckage from the night before.

If it wasn’t a joke, then who was this messenger committed to giving you a heads up?

Tucking the letter into your bag with a hard swallow, you cranked the radio up on the way into town, headed to Main Vein. The trees were bare, and the sky was heavy with clouds, hiding a dollop of egg yolk sun behind their veil. You’d drop in to get your new schedule from Bob, and perhaps see if the town of Hawkins had changed.

You caught sight of Argyle’s VW beetle parked down a side street and smiled to yourself, knowing at least that was a constant. Main Vein was still housed in the same building, but the red neon sign in the window said VEIN ON MAIN instead. .

Robin’s bookstore appeared to have a quaint cafe attached to it. You were able to get a glimpse of her there, sitting at a small, round sidewalk table. Her hair was longer, worn in a ponytail, and she held hands with the other woman across from her. At their feet was the tan pit bull terrier who had helped you defeat the Klemps all of those months ago in the alley.

At least it looked like the same dog.

Would they remember you at Main Vein? Or…Vein on Main?

You drove around the block and then parked at the curb, the same place you’d parked the hearse the day of your first interview with Bob Newby.

The Main Vein you remembered had floor to ceiling windows in front that were covered in dark velvet blackout curtains during the day, but this space had a red brick front with two small windows painted black and a red door. The windows each had neon signs in them: one for Pabst Blue Ribbon, and one for the synthetic vampire blood called NuBlood.

The black door opened to a space the size of a generous closet facing another door. There was a gumball machine, a stack of local newspapers, and a guy on a stool reading what appeared to be a paperback romance novel. One of those bodice ripping ones with the dramatic covers. He had one foot planted on the ground, while the booted heel of the other hooked onto a rung on the stool.

His honey brown hair looked like it had been styled with a blow dryer, and he wore a pair of sunglasses pushed up to his forehead, even though he had no use for them since it was fairly dark in that nook.

He glanced up bored at first, but then straightened when he saw you.

“It’s you,” Steve beamed, folding the corner of a page in his book to save his spot. “I didn’t think you were on the clock today?”

Your mind froze. So, Steve was your coworker in this new timeline? You tried not to let your brain short-circuit over this new information.

At least you could be comforted by the fact that you still had employment.

“Wait, what is your job again?” You asked, looking around the space between the two doors.

He gave you a side-eye as if you were fucking with him. “I’ve been the bouncer for a few weeks now. Argyle got me the job, remember?”

“Oh right, oh sure,” you nodded wildly a few times.

“Are you feeling okay?” His look was one of genuine concern.

“I’m good, I promise.” You offered a flat smile that did not reach your eyes. “But is it okay if I ask you another potentially really stupid question?”

“Shoot.” He crossed his booted feet at the ankles in front of him, leaning back.

“Did we…did we ever…” you bit the inside of your cheek. “Did we ever…go on a date? To see a movie?”

Steve scratched his stubbled chin. “Well I wouldn’t call it a date-date, but I was a third wheel with you and Erica that night Robin bailed on me.”

“And you’re still…also a werewolf, right?” Now the absurd questions were just flying out.

He tilted his head, and his eyes glowed red for a second as an answer. “Last I checked.”

“Okay, good.”

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Maybe not?” You shrugged. “But I’ll be okay. Is Bob here?”

“Think so,” he was about to say more, but just as your hand was on the door to go in, the outside door began to open, and he hopped up. “Hold on, there,” he told the person outside, pulling the door shut again. “Only one door can open at a time.”

“Now you can go,” he nodded, gesturing for you to enter. You didn’t confirm it, but figured that it was a safety measure to keep sunlight off of the vampires that were possibly inside.

Inside Vein on Main looked like a casino with various shades of burgundy and neon red. No natural light, but the mirrored bar was backlit, and there were stained glass lamp shades hanging down over the dark booths to your right. A synth-wave techno beat thumped from unseen speakers as curls of smoke from the end of cigarettes gathered into a gray cloud. At the far back was a pool table and a stage in the corner on a riser with a bunch of musical equipment set up.

You saw Erica behind the bar, and were about to go over to say hello to her, but a cold hand clamped down on your shoulder.

“Just the one I wanted to see,” Jareth’s voice rumbled in your ear.

He was the last one you expected to bump into in a human/vampire crossover bar. He’d always been much too above such things. His blonde hair was slicked back, his blue eyes burning with intensity.

“How did you get in here in the middle of the day?”

“I have my ways,” he said cryptically. Older vampires like Jareth didn’t need to sleep as much as the younger ones, so he had more time to get up to mischief.

“No but really,” you looked him up and down, noting that he was still in the standard, fashionable Jareth attire, and then glanced around to the handful of other patrons. “What are you doing here?”

He glared at you skeptically. “Why wouldn’t I be here? This is my bar.”

“What about Sacrament?”

“It’s still there,” he crossed his arms over his chest, curious about this odd line of questioning but, he decided to indulge you. “There’s an underground tunnel that connects the two.”

The new information was all very…disorientating, to say the least. You felt like your head was spinning, like you might possibly throw up or something.

“And Bob? What did you do with him?” There was a hint of frustrated anger in your tone.

“Bob and Maxine run the place. I am more of what you would call…a silent partner.” He pushed into your space, towering over you as if he might lower his head for a kiss. “But you know this already, don’t you, Dove?”

You turned away, snatching his elbow to pull him into a booth with you. He stood fast at first, not wanting to follow, but then slowly obliged.

“Listen, this will probably sound crazy,” you started.

“Oh I have no doubt about that.” He laced his fingers together on the polished wood table top.

A long exhale and then you laced your fingers on the table. “Have you ever heard of anyone, um, jumping timelines?”

He sat back, expressionless. “Are you saying that’s what happened to you?”

“Maybe, yes, yeah,” you paused to wonder if you should tell him “I’m pretty sure know that is what happened to me, but I didn’t think it was possible.”

You told him about the past 48 hours, and about the letter you received from some unknown person.

He gave it some thought, spreading his hands out flat to tap his thumbs on the table.

“I’ve heard stories,” he appraised you with his chin tilted down. “But I’ve never met a Jumper in person.”

“Well, nice to meet you.”

“I always knew there was something about you,” he smirked. “I knew you weren’t exactly human, but could never put my finger on it.”

“Congratulations.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” Jareth gave a micro shrug. “If somehow you stepped into a nearby timeline, I wouldn’t know how to put you back.”

“I can’t believe how calm you are about this.”

The last time you saw Jareth, he was at your trailer park ripping Brenner and the rest to shreds with the help of a swarm of other vampires. You wanted to thank him, but then realized that was from another timeline he might not remember.

Jareth continued. “Maybe you were pulled into this timeline for a reason. Maybe you weren’t meant to understand.”

You nodded absently, looking around at the new Vein on Main, feeling like you should wake up at any moment.

“You said the letter you received was dated a year from now? Ever think you might’ve written it to yourself?”

Head spinning, might definitely puke.

“Maybe something worse happens in that other timeline and you jumped over to this one to avoid disaster.”

What if something bad happened to Eddie in that other timeline…

You couldn’t get over how chill about the whole mess Jareth was being. Maybe all of the things he’d experienced in the 3,000 some years he’d been a vampire made it so nothing surprised him.

“One thing I have heard about Jumpers…” he waited to finish until a group of giggling humans walked by. “...they eventually forget about the old timeline. Somehow they assimilate to the current one and sync up with the memories. It’s likely that one day, this one will be your new normal, and the other one will feel like a dream you had.”

You weren’t sure if that should comfort you or make you cry.

“Did I at least make a move on you in that other timeline?” Jareth wet his lips while he stared at you.

“Absolutely not,” you responded with a slight roll of your eyes. “Never going to happen in this one, either.”

“Never say never,” his grin was evil in the most charming way.

All you wanted to do at that point was go back to your trailer to sit on the floor and wait for Eddie to wake up.

After a stop at the grocery store and gas station, that was exactly what you did.

—-------

The daylight seemed to last forever. You reread the mysterious letter countless times, let Bela out for a few hours of flying, watched two episodes of Outer Limits with Dio curled up in your lap purring, and paced around the house, glancing at the horizon every so often.

When the sun finally settled into a deep purple sea, you were kneeling at the front of the door when you heard the inside lock jiggle.

“You’re here,” you exhaled a long-held breath, grinning so wide it felt like your cheeks might break while you braced the door open. You also took that opportunity to snap a photo of him with your Polaroid camera, one of him with an expression caught between amusement and surprise. It would end up being one of your most cherished photos of him.

“You sound surprised,” he chuckled.

He rubbed sleep from his eyes with the knuckle of one hand as he made his way up the steps with a yawn.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile that big before,” he remarked groggily.

“I had this weird feeling you’d…disappear or something.”

“Nah,” he came up the final step and then crawled on top of you, making you go flat on the ground with a laugh, dropping the door down with a bang as you went. “You’re stuck with me now, I’m afraid.”

You held his face with both hands, enjoying the weight of his body, the soft moaning and playful flicks of his tongue on yours.

He lifted up to trace your mouth and chin with his finger. “Did you have a good day while I was asleep?”

“I really missed you.”

You tried to kiss him again, but he pulled further away, giving himself a double chin. “Does that mean you like me?”

“I’m still deciding,” your eyes were full of stars as you searched his face.

His hips rolled against you, giving away that his length was already hard, straining against his denim. You reached down to feel him, popping open two of the buttons on his jeans while you were down there.

“Yeah?” He whispered, hooking two fingers inside the leg of your loose shorts to graze your panty line. “You want this?”

“I want you,” his mouth was on yours before you could say another word, cradling his hand behind your head.

When he finally sank in with a moan, you grabbed onto his ass with both hands, urging him closer.

“I love those noises you make,” he mumbled, twitching inside of you.

Your shirt was pushed up, and you’d probably have rugburns on your back later, but right then you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be was as close to him as physically possible.

Eddie shivered when he was seated fully inside, practically purring at the way your nails scratched up his back.

“Bite me,” you gasped, offering the throbbing artery in your throat to him.

He paused, breathless, sliding his nose along your ear. “I don’t want to take too much. Last night was—-”

“Please.” You flexed and rippled around his cock, making him whine. He’d cum in two seconds if you kept doing that. “Just a quickie.”

“Just a quickie, she said,” he hummed. “Sweetheart you have no idea how true that is going to be if you keep squeezing me like that.”

The euphoria that rolled though you when he fed from your vein, coupled with the quickening of his hips when he was close made your eyes roll back in your head. He slowed down, didn’t want to finish before you, but you clamped your legs around him.

He unlatched from your throat with a hiss, fangs stained and dripping. “The things you do to me, holy shit—-”

“Wait wait,” you pulled his face back up so that he would look at you.

He stilled with a frown. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, I just wanted…” you trailed off, heart wailing like a steam engine in your chest.

Still throbbing hard inside of you, he gave a hopeful smirk. “Did you want to tell me that you like me?”

“No.” You said softly, hearing his throat click when he swallowed. “But I think I might be in love with you.”

He froze, making sure he heard you correctly, thinking about maybe asking you to say it again just so he could hear it.

He rocked further inside, smashing his mouth onto yours in a way that made you whimper, taking your hand to interlace his fingers.

“Holy shit I love you,” he panted. “I’ve never felt this way before and I should’ve told you, I wanted to tell you, but I was afraid that—-”

“Shhhh.”.

The next few hours brought more of the same, with Eddie never tiring and you craving him in a way that was animalistic. Against the wall, in the shower, on the countertop, and you were both finally able to say the words that had been bubbling up in your chest for a while.

Eddie tucked you in when you fell asleep, and then went over to his place to change clothes and call Gary to see if there was any work available at the chop shop.

For some reason, it didn’t occur to either of you to talk about why everything was different, or why his trailer wasn’t a charred wreck. He’d been shot the night before with silver bullets and almost died, but it never got brought up in conversation again.

You’d fully intended to show him the letter, to tell him about the conversation you’d had with Jareth, but then somehow it simply slipped your mind.

Bela came swooping in the next morning, yapping away like she had a story to tell, and you wished you could speak her language. You remembered the night you rescued her, on your way back from the Upside Down with Eddie.

Why had you gone to Sacrament that night? A date maybe? No, Eddie needed to talk with Jareth, that’s what it was. You were just tagging along.

While you were pondering that night, you had this sudden lightheaded feeling, stumbling over your feet before you thankfully caught yourself on the kitchen island. Making your way down the hallway to the bathroom, you felt like you were on a funhouse floor that was shifting, so you leaned into the wall to catch your bearings.

Splashing water on your face would have to do. You ran the water as cold as possible, and when you saw your reflection in the mirror, you had one of those moments when you didn’t recognize your own face.

Surely, it happens to everyone from time to time, but have your eyes always been two different colors? One was an icy blue, and the other was light green, almost hazel. As if your eyeballs belonged to two completely different people.

The scars, they were familiar. Down your chest, along your jaw, at your shoulders, at your knees and down to your right foot.

After a few deep breaths, your legs no longer felt like jello.

You found a strange typed letter in your bag, but it didn’t make any sense, so you figured it was garbage and threw it away.

—---------

Hopper roused up from a nap shirtless, still wearing his work trousers, to the smell of brown sugar baked salmon coming from the kitchen, and he sat up with a smile on his face. Scratching his head, he changed into something more comfortable; a navy tee with a front pocket and jeans.

“Smells good,” he called from the bathroom where he used a boar bristle brush on his hair and put a little cologne on. He paused to appreciate the way there were two toothbrushes in the ceramic holder by the sink.

He couldn’t believe this was his life, didn’t know what he’d done to deserve it.

He had to part a heavy floor to ceiling curtain to get to the other part of the house. It was hours from sunset, but still there was not a drop of natural light to be seen. He’d renovated half of the trailer to be daylight safe for vampires–one vampire in particular— including covering the windows with metal sheeting that could be lifted at night, if they desired.

“I hope I didn’t leave it in for too long,” Joyce fussed with the rooster print potholders, bending over to get the dish out of the oven.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” he followed her over to set the dish on the table and kissed the top of her head just before she finished what she was doing to wrap her arms around him.

“What about you?” He tipped her chin up to gaze lovingly at her face. “Hungry?”

They had a case of NuBlood Type B for when she was in a pinch, but he preferred for her to have the real thing, he didn’t much care for the idea of her sustaining on that synthetic crap. So, he took his iron supplements and stayed healthy, and became her main source of food. She was never greedy, she always knew just how much to take.

But that night, he had a surprise for her.

“One moment,” she watched with adoring eyes as he opened a cupboard above the stove that was much too high for her to reach. He pulled down what looked like a bottle full of corked red wine and presented it to her with a proud grin.

“Ordered it from that vampire mixology show you like,” he let her take it so she could read the label, her mouth set in an O of fascinated awe.

“Plasma donated by a meditation guru who only ate tangerines for a week. They say it’s some tasty shit.”

“Hopper,” she clutched the bottle with the yellow label to her chest and tilted her head to beam up at him. “You didn’t have to do that, it must’ve cost a fortune.”

He stared at her, unable to gauge her reaction. “You don’t like it?”

“No I love it!” She gushed, snuggling into his embrace again. “Nothing could ever taste better than my man, though.”

He rested his chin on her head, grinning like a fool. “One day I’ll kick the nicotine habit and it will taste even better.”

“Well, don’t do it for me, you’ve gotta quit for yourself.” She scooted away to take a bean salad out of the fridge.

She always got up early to start her day so that they could have a meal together before she left for her job as a night time stocker at the local grocery store. Hopper would wake up before sunrise to be able to spend time with her before she went underground to the safe cubby he’d built. More and more, he considered becoming a vampire himself, just to be able to spend more time with her, but that would be a talk for another day.

The table was set with a bouquet of wild, pink poppies, and then a plate with silverware for him, and a glass for her. She’d been sad to give up real food for those first couple months when she was first turned, but by then, almost a decade later, she was amazed at how much she didn’t crave it.

“I had the darndest dream just now,” he cracked open a cold Schlitz and it fizzed.

“Oh yeah? What about?”

He almost didn’t want to say it out loud.

“It was a nightmare really. You were dating Bob.”

Joyce burst out in a bubble of a laugh. “Bob Newby? Of all people. I do like Bob, though, he’s a nice man.”

“You like him more than me?” He teased, frowning.

“Hopper, please.”

He took a sip of beer. “I was addicted to V in the dream. Lonely, and hated my life.”

“Addicted to V, huh? That’s a tough one.” Joyce searched his face with sincere concern.

Vampire blood, or V, was sold illegally to recreational users, and it was highly addicting.

He leaned forward, sliding his big hand up her arm. “I’m addicted to you.”

Before they kissed she hummed, “you’re insatiable,” and then took another sip of her imported treat.

After the sunset, they sat out on the porch for a while, looking up at the stars. Joyce nestled between Hopper’s legs with her back against his stomach in one of the lounge chairs, fingers intertwined at her middle. They talked about the kids, how Joyce’s son Will, who was also a vampire, would be joining them for dinner/breakfast on Sunday, and Jonathan would be bringing his girlfriend home to visit for the holidays. Hopper’s daughter Sarah was on a backpacking trip across Europe, and their fridge was covered in postcards from her travels. She called Hopper collect from Greece that day and told him she’d found a job there and planned to stay a bit longer. He said he was happy for her, but it made his heart hurt to know he wouldn’t see her again until next year.

“I’m pretty happy with this little life of ours,” Joyce said softly.

Hopper planted his lips on the top of her head. “There’s no other timeline I’d want to be in.”

—-----

Eddie rolled up to the chop shop in the white porsche he’d lifted from the parking garage of a fancy restaurant in town. He tipped the valets well, and they never gave him the keys, but were fine with turning their backs so that he could do his work.

From the dark alleyway, metal sparks were flying in the open garage door, and the sound of an electric drill buzzed away from the several other employees working the night shift. Gary handed him an envelope full of cash for the car, and the first thing that came to Eddie’s mind was buying you that rare Kurt Vonnegut copy you’d had your eye on at Robin’s bookstore.

He made his way through the busy work area to the back entrance where he’d parked the GTO. It was still primer gray and needed a lot of interior work, but he liked working on it with Wayne, it was a way for them to bond.

The moon was not yet full. Maybe a few more days and it would be. He stopped to stare up at it for a few beats, wondering if you were battling insomnia again and possibly looking up at it too.

It was late winter, so the sun wasn’t up for a while, and he had plenty of time to get you an iced coffee and have it waiting in the fridge for when you woke up. He used the spare key tied around his neck when he got to your trailer and tip-toed in, trying not to rustle the knob so he didn’t wake you up.

But you were there on the couch next to Bela watching television. Bela stuck her whole face into the bowl of dry cereal before her and came up with colorful Fruity Pebbles stuck to her lips while she munched, making growing sounds.

“How long have you been up?” He took his leather jacket and battle vest off to hook them on the back of the door, revealing a Warlock shirt with the collar ripped out.

“Dad’s on the news again,” you said without answering his question, without taking your eyes off the TV. “He called last night to tell me about it, but I almost slept in and forgot.”

He sat down on the other side of Bela and stretched his hand along the back of the couch to squeeze your shoulder.

Your father, the brilliant surgeon turned funeral director turned “mad scientist” in the media, was doing a tour as a guest speaker for several well-known universities. A lot of people were fascinated by his brilliance, and his research on reanimating dead tissue, but some thought his work was an abomination.

You were still his best kept secret. He worked hard to keep the details of your life and your whereabouts hidden, but eventually you wondered if someone would find you. You were the only human proof that his methods worked, but bringing your story to light would only put you at risk. You no longer went by your birth name and everyone called you Dove. He referenced you in public as his niece, and no one seemed to be asking any questions, at least not that you were aware of.

“He’s wearing that tie we picked out for him,” Eddie noted proudly.

When Bela finished her cereal and flew off to her perch near the window, you scooted into the nook made by Eddie’s open arm, smooching him before resting your head on his shoulder. He had his knees spread wide, taking your hand the second it was close enough.

“I missed you tonight,” he mumbled into the side of your head.

“I work at the bar until late tomorrow.” You snuggled closer, putting our leg over his. “You could pick me up and we could go steal cars together. I’d like to watch you work.”

It’d been a month since the first time you were intimate, and diving into a relationship felt like second nature. You’d talked to Bob about letting you have more night shifts instead of working during the day, and he was enthusiastically understanding, clapping his hands together to rub them back and forth conspiratorially. “I smell a romance blossoming.”

Eddie came in one time for a drink at the bar and Argyle said, “dude, it’s weird to see you not all grumpy and sulking.” And then Eddie caught your eye from across the room and gave you a little wiggle of his fingers, unable to wipe the permanent smile off of his face.

For the first time you really felt like you’d found a home somewhere. But also, there were things happening that were truly…odd.

In the sock draw in your bedroom, you found a few polaroids you didn’t remember taking.

One was of a hearse that was the same make/model as yours, but it was solid black instead of black with white pinstriping. Another was of what looked like Vein on Main, with Bob waving at you from the doorway. The neon in the floor to ceiling window said Main Vein. Had it been remodeled before you came to work there? But if so, how had you been the one to snap the photo?

You also found a key on your keyring that did not look familiar. It was smaller than the rest with blunt, jagged teeth.

You showed it to Eddie, thinking it might be to open a glove box or something car related.

He brought it up close for examination, going cross-eyed. “It almost looks like one of those gas cap keys, but your hearse isn’t that old. To a secret diary, maybe?”

“I never write in a diary. You know that.”

“Well,” he sniffed. “Let me put my Columbo hat on and crack this case.”

You could see his mind racing as he took it around the trailer, trying it in any lock he could find, including the front door knob, which was silly, but he had to rule it out.

“Babe, what are you doing down there?” You asked when you walked into the bedroom to find him on his stomach, fishing around under the bed with a flashlight.

“Just ticking all the boxes, my love,” he responded with a grunt. He crawled in more so that you could only see him from the waist down. His butt looked so cute wiggling there, you wanted to pinch it.

“Ah ha!” He exhaled triumphantly, dragging something with him as he scooted back out. “I knew I saw a box under here when I was looking for Dio the other day. By the way, you should really vacuum under there. I think I saw a dust bunny with teeth.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you mumbled, arms folded, waiting to see what he caught from the depths of the shadows.

“There,” he jerked a square gray case out by the handle, settling on his knees to wipe his bangs away from his eyes. “The one thing we haven’t checked.”

There were no markings on it, but you saw the tiny silver key hole lock right away, lowering yourself to the carpeted floor next to him. Hard shell case with worn corners as if it had seen quite a few travels. There was a texture to it, and if you closed your eyes, it felt like snakeskin.

“Do you know what’s in it?” His gaze flicked to your profile. “It weighs a ton.”

You turned your head from side to side. “I’ve never seen that case in my life,” and that realization prickled your flesh. “But maybe it was left here by the last tennant?”

“Why would you have the key, though?”

You turned to stare at each other, unsure of what else to say.

“Try it,” he offered you the key, clearing his throat.

“I’d rather you did it.”

“Certainly,” but he said in a voice that mimicked Curly from the Three Stooges.

The key fit, and when he twisted it, the latch clicked, and you held your breath.

“Drumroll,” Eddie flipped the latch up.

“Please just open it.”

He pushed the lid back and the metal hinges creaked.

Jaws unhinged, you both stared at the smoke gray Royal typewriter for a few beats, cocking your heads to the side in tandem.

“A vintage typewriter.” Eddie stated the obvious.

“My mom used to have one like that,” you whispered it under your breath, not even meaning to say it out loud.

“So it is yours?” he waited.

“Um,” you ran the tips of your fingers along the edge. “It must be.”

But, surely you would have remembered lugging that thing around. In your mind's eye, you could see your index finger doing chicken pecks over the keys, but yet couldn’t recall anything you’d written.

“Do you have any paper?” Eddie got to his feet. “We could try it out.”

“In the bottom drawer over there, I think,” pointing to the desk against the wall with three drawers down one side.

He carried the heavy piece of equipment out into the kitchen island to test it, rolling the paper in manually and clicking the typebar until it dinged into place.

Akfj giahkasras va auiwyrg is what he typed.

“There’s a letter missing,” he noted, taking a better look at the metal teeth inside.

“It’s the N,” you said before he could. It was almost as if you knew which letter it would be with your eyes closed. It was stuck, jammed in place.

“I think I know a guy who could fix that,” your boyfriend said softly, wanting to be helpful. “Wonder if some WD-40 would do the trick.”

After Eddie left for an interview at the body shop of a popular vampire car dealership, you stared up at the fan on the ceiling of your bedroom, unable to sleep. Bela was on one of her nocturnal adventures, Dio was back on her window perch at Eddie’s place, and you vibrated there in the loud silence. The night sounds were more menacing, the flap of the loose shingle on the roof suddenly sounded like someone walking around up there.

You were just starting to fade when you heard the click clack of the typewriter keys.

clickityclackclackclickityclack…Whack…DING

Adrenaline surged through your body and your eyes shot open, freezing there while invisible spiders swarmed your flesh.

But then, everything went quiet. A full, creeping silence that made your ears ring.

You held your breath and an owl hooted out in the woods. What if you’d dozed off more than you realized and the sound was part of a dream?

Your gaze shifted slowly to land on the entrance to the hallway, waiting to hear creaking footsteps followed by a figure standing there. Maybe a tall creature with long arms and clawed hands and red eyes that glowed in the dark. After several minutes of nothing, you pulled yourself together, recognized your own strength, and kicked your feet out of bed.

Hands balled into fists, skin buzzing, you padded softly to the mouth of the hallway, keeping to the shadows, out of view of anyone who happened to be standing in the kitchen. Maybe some elves and faeries came to fix the stuck N key.

ClickclickClackclackclick

Slower that time, but someone was definitely out there messing with your shit.

You rolled your back flat against the wall, hiding, thinking of a weapon you could use. The ballpoint pen in the bedside drawer was the only thing you could come up with, and you brandished it like a knife at your ear with the point out.

“Eddie is that you?” Voice wavering, you hovered just beyond the door frame.

The silence only thickened.

You felt that surge of electricity crackle along your muscles and your breathing deepened.

Who needs a pen when you can shoot lightning bolts out of your fingers?

After a sharp intake of breath, you closed the distance between the bedroom and the hallway lightswitch, flicking it on.

You’d been prepared for the worst, possibly some hulking monster with vampire fangs and blood dripping off its claws. Something like your boyfriend but darker, older. Hungrier.

But you were alone in the trailer.

Your heart pumped ice cold blood through your veins as you made sure to check behind the kitchen island.

Nothing. No one.

You lifted your hands up in front of your face to find that there were snaps of electricity idling there, building power in case you needed it. Your eyes darted to each of the windows, thinking one was open or shattered, but everything appeared to be just how you left it before bed.

“Hello?” One more time for good measure. “Eddie, I hope you aren’t fucking with me.”

Still nothing, and you knew in your heart that he wouldn’t fuck with you like that. Tease you and be a brat in other ways, sure, but he’d never make you think there was the threat of an intruder, not after everything.

The closer you inched into the room, the more it became clear that there was writing on the piece of paper rolled into the feed of the typewriter.

Right underneath Eddie’s Akfj giahkasras va auiwyrg was:

Hello Dove

I k ow you ca ’t wrap your head arou d this right ow

But Eddie is i da ger

Nostrils flaring as you read it, you spun around, expecting to find someone standing right behind you.

Nothing. No one.

But then

The keys were moving again, depressed by invisible fingers.

The two of you are o lo ger safe i Hawki s

A memory clicked in your head about the Remington rifle with the M84 scope hidden in the wall in your closet that was loaded with silver bullets. Brass knuckles, hunting knives, and plastic flexi cuffs, among others. You had an arsenal of things for capture and killing.

O ce you have read this you must bur it

A d the replace the paper and await further instructio s

Slowly, you tugged the single piece of paper out of the feeder in one swipe and only hesitated for a moment before aggressively crumpling it up into a ball.

You picked up the yellow lighter near the phone and lit the edge on fire before tossing it into the ceramic sink and watched it turn to charcoal ash.

You’d killed before. Many times. Humans and monsters alike.

…but why did you feel like you were just now realizing that fact?

And now someone was after Eddie.

You fed a fresh sheet of paper in, but after an hour, no new words appeared.

You had no idea how it worked, but wondered if maybe it could function as a two-way conversation.

Your palms were sweating as you poised your fingers over the keys.

“Who are you?” You typed, each letter falling like a brick, almost afraid to know the answer.

Clickclickclick the keys snapped as soon as you finished.

I am you

…….

a other versio of you

but also we are the same

……

When Eddie got home, you’d been watching from the window and leapt into his arms before he could step all the way through the door.

“Fuck, finally,” you said in a slightly whiny tone, unable to help yourself. You’d been sitting there bouncing your knee and letting your anxious thoughts run wild. You’d called the garage, but Gary had no idea where he went and you really wished Eddie would get a beeper.

He returned the embrace, grinning sappily into the side of your neck. “Good to know you didn’t get another boyfriend while I was at work.”

You wouldn’t let him go, it felt too good to be able to touch him, to know he was okay.

“Hey, hey,” he said softly, pushing you far enough away so that he could see your face and the water at your lash line. His cold, dead heart ached at the sight. “What’s this all about? Did something happen?”

You let him take his leather off, and then you told him about the Twilight Zone typewriter.

Paper fed into the rubber roller, you both sat staring at it in silence and prickling anticipation. Eddie fed Bela saltine crackers and she ate them messily, snorting every so often as she sucked them down.

“What if we talk to it first,” Eddie suggested, knowing that you had succeeded at that earlier.

“I have so many questions, I wouldn’t know where to start.”

He sat forward on the sofa, his hands in the shape of claws, hovering over the letters. “May I?”

You wet your lips nervously and scooted closer to him. “Sure, be my guest.”

He blew a long breath out of tight lips before wetting them again, eyes darting over the machine.

…..

This is Eddie. Is there a other versio of me there? I’d like to ask him some questio s.

…..

He pulled his hands back as if in a form of surrender, staring at the blank white space.

Nothing happened for what seemed like an hour but was really only 2 minutes and then—-

Eddie is ’t here

……

Your heart rate spiked, and you were about to speak, but then the ghost typing continued.

You eed to fi d Jareth

…..

Eddie is in da ger

You shouted at the piece of machinery then. “Why is Eddie in danger? From who? Enough with the cryptic shit.”

Eddie took the liberty of typing a few words in for you and waited, gnawing at the inside of his cheek..

Another 30 seconds that felt like a million

The Fellowship of the Su

Eddie fell back stiffly on the couch at that, staring blankly at the words.

“What is that last word? Sun? What the hell is the Fellowship of the Sun?”

Even as you asked, you could tell by the look on his face that it was bad.

“They’re a group of religious extremists who think vampires are an abomination and don’t support the new laws that give us rights and let us be a part of society. They don’t think we should exist at all, actually.” He took a deep breath. “They’re pretty dangerous babe.”

“Well I’m pretty dangerous too,” you mumbled, cracking your neck. You ran your hands up and down your face a few times exhaling a ragged groan.

“Wasn’t Jesus a vampire?” You mused more to yourself, but Eddie was quick to shrug and agree that he always thought so.

Your fingers hit heavy as you punched out the words.

Tell me what I eed to do.

For a moment there, you felt utterly foolish and out of body. Talking to some other secret version of you about vampire stealing Jesus freaks on a broken typewriter, of all things? But you had to focus, you didn’t have the luxury of doubting whoever was at the other end of the words.

Other You considered switching you to another timeline again, but too much of that could mess irrevocably with a person’s head. This was the only timeline when your dad lived to be an elderly man, the only timeline when Hopper and Joyce could find their happiness, and those things mattered to you. Both Other You and Current You.

It was also one of the only timelines that you knew of where they eventually discovered a cure for vampirism. That meant Eddie could have the choice to live out a mortal life with you, if he wanted that. A family and daywalking together would all be an option again.

eed to fi d Jareth

Other You repeated, and then: He will k ow what to do

You asked a few more questions over the next hour but did not receive any further communication. Eddie sank back on the couch while you remained hunched forward and he rubbed comforting circles on your back with the palm of his hand.

After staring at one spot on the paper for another few seconds, you settled back against him with a huff, curling one leg over his and wrapping an arm around his chest while your head nestled at his shoulder.

“Do you think we should leave Hawkins?” Your words were the first ones spoken. “Just hit the road and get as far away as we can? Dye our hair, change our names, I don’t care.”

“If you go, I go,” he mumbled into your temple. “But I think the You on the other side of the typewriter has a point. Jareth could hide us in the Upside Down for a while. The fellowship would have a hard time getting to us there. They’re petrified of that place.”

You closed your eyes. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

He grabbed the crook of your knee to pull your leg closer. “Because they hate vampires, baby. They want us all to go Back in the Coffin, as they say.”

“If you go, I go,” you twisted closer, nuzzling the side of his throat.

“Speaking of going,” he groaned, not wanting to face reality. “I need to get underground. The sun will be up in like, ten minutes.”

Ugh, you hated being apart from him for such a long period during the day, especially now that he might be a target. But at least you could put the couch over the door in the floor and always know he was safe as long as you or Bela were around.

He took a few sips of plasma from your wrist while your mouth was on his cock. It was a risk so close to sunrise, but you rolled your tongue around his shaft and flicked it at the tip in a way that had him shivering and moaning your name while you swallowed his cum after only a few minutes.

Breathless, he threw his head back. “Holy shit jesus christ I fucking love you.”

You hopped to your feet, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Okay now we need to get you to bed. Quick quick.”

“That’s okay,” he sighed, unmoving. “I’ll just perish right here.”

“Not on my watch,” you giggled, yanking him up while he fumbled to put his dick back into his jeans.

When he was at the bottom of the hidey hole, you got on your knees at the entrance and held the door, preparing to close it. “I’m not going to work today, so I’ll be here. Shout if you need me.”

“I will,” his eyes seemed to sparkle while he stared up at you, admiring. “I fucking love you.”

“Ditto,” the word put a catch in your throat. Why did it feel like you were saying goodbye to him?

When the darkness finally took him and he sank back to where the mattress was, you shut the carpeted door and then put your hand on it, as if you could still feel his cool flesh through it.

Standing with a weary breath, you moved the couch and thought about the phone calls you needed to make. Hopper, Argyle, and the rest of the vampires and their allies that you were friends with. If Eddie was in danger, perhaps they all were.

You had to call Vein on Main to find out where Jareth was, and they patched you through to Sacrament.

When he picked up on the second ring, he said hello to you before you even said who was calling. Caller ID perhaps? You didn’t have time to wonder.

“I need your help. I think Eddie might be in danger,” you spoke quickly, bursting with urgency.

At the other end, Jareth was as calm as ever. “And this should concern me, why?”

“Does the Fellowship of the Sun ring a bell?”

You could hear the ancient vampire go ridgid. His voice changed, lowering to almost a whisper. “How do you know about them?”

“It’s a long story,” to say the least. “Someone told me I could trust you with this. That you could help us.”

He was so quiet, you wondered if he’d disconnected, but then it sounded like he walked into another room and closed the door. You could no longer hear the rapid techno beat of club music in the background.

“What if getting rid of Eddie was all part of my plan?” He smirked into the phone. “Then I could have you all to myself.”

“Please, Jareth. We don’t have time for this.”

He cleared his throat. “I did hear that the Fellowship were closing in on Hawkins, but they are no match for—”

“I don’t think we should underestimate them,” you said softly. “Could we meet up later tonight? After sunset? There is something I need to discuss with you, but not over the phone.”

You wondered if you should tell him about the magical typewriter and the version of you from a parallel life.

What if there was a chance he already knew about it?

“Come after your shift, around 3,” he said. “I’ll ask Maxine not to hassle you at the door, but no promises.”

After the phone call, you turned on the news to see the female President of the Vampire Coalition arguing with a man who was a pastor from the Fellowship of the Sun.

“You vermin don’t belong here in our streets indoctrinating our children with your bloodlust and fornicaiton!” The balding pastor barked. “And we’re going to shine god's light on you and send you back to the hell you came from.”

Sophie Ann Bledsoe, the president of the coalition, had sea blue eyes, a brunette bob of hair, and muted wine lips. She looked like a soccer mom, not a member of the dangerous undead.

“If you’d give me a chance to speak,” she said calmly, watching Pastor Daniels grow red in the face. “I will assure you that we are peaceful, productive members of society—-”

“I won’t listen to this devil!” The pastor turned away, toward the camera, and then a moderator intervened with a few diplomatic words before the broadcast went to a commercial.

You could see rage in that pastor’s eyes: he wanted to wipe vampires off the planet.

But then, the television screen flickered to static and back again.

You swore you saw an image, nothing but an outline, but familiar all the same.

Had there been a voice? Someone whispering your name over the political news broadcast?

You waited, but the flicker never happened again.

Before you bent to click off the set, your head did a slow turn to glance over your shoulder at the typewriter squatting like doom on the coffee table.

Maybe it wasn’t doom, maybe it was hope, and you considered that while the winter sun broke through the trees, blanketed by clouds.

The next place your eyes landed was the hatch in the floor that had yet to be covered up by the wagon wheel sofa. You had a few things to get done that day, but when the sun finally set, you knew you’d be kneeling there, waiting for Eddie to take your hand and be your partner in crime for the evening.

There was something like a memory itching at your brain, but a distant one that belonged to someone else, like an echo in a dark hallway.

A memory of you and Eddie in your trailer, but it was a dark, royal blue, raining with strange particles that looked like snow but danced on the air like fluff from a dandelion. The trees and the grass were dead, and the sky was void of stars, like a bleak landscape painted from a nightmare. The ground split open in places like jagged knife wounds that never healed; they reminded you of your scars.

The Upside Down.

Bela was perched on your shoulder in the vision, and Eddie had a rifle strapped to his back. You needed food and supplies, but you didn’t want him to go alone. The three of you had survived this long, and so together you would stay. You knew the typewriter was hidden safely under the floorboards and you’d come back for it later.

Eddie reached for your hand in the vision and you gave it, mirroring the look of adoration on his face. The two of you were very much in love, but around you there was a sense of horror in the air, edged with a feral determination to survive.

Survive what, exactly?

But then you blinked and the sensory experience was gone.

There was the heavy thud of Bela landing on the roof above you, followed by fumbled rustling and a tiny growl of sorts that made you smile.

You let her in and went over to make some tea, warmed by a sudden calm that everything would be okay and no harm would come to the people you loved.

You’d make sure of it.

#Death Becomes Us #DBU #Eddie Munson #vampire!Eddie #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x reader #True Blood au

144 notes · View notes

peavhyshy · 1 year ago

Text

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - RIPTIDE

ᯓᡣ𐭩 pairing ─ ୨୧ ─ JJ Maybank ⋆ Adopted!Thornton!Reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ In which In JJ sneaks into your families mansion after being beaten by his abusive father, and you help patch him up

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ strong language, smut, angst, child abuse, injuries, emotional distress, mention of underage drinking, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (nipple play), dirty talk, and rough sex

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 2,535

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

The moon was high in the sky as JJ crept across the perfectly manicured lawn of the Thornton estate, cursing under his breath with each step as his bruised ribs screamed in protest. He knew the route by heart - shimmy up the trellis, slip through the unlocked window into your room, grab the first aid kit stashed under your bed. This definitely wasn't his first late-night house call.

"Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair," he whisper-shouted, tapping on the glass.

"Jesus, JJ, you scared the shit out of me!" You whispered as JJ tumbled gracelessly through your open window. "What did you do this time?"

"Oh you know, I forgot to take the trash out so naturally he tried to beat me to death with a whiskey bottle," JJ quipped, collapsing onto your bed.

You sighed, grabbing your well-stocked first aid kit. This had become a routine for them. "Shirt off," you ordered.

"Yes ma'am!" JJ winked, slowly removing his shirt to reveal the ugly bruises blossoming across his torso.

You sighed, exasperated but sympathetic as always. You got to work disinfecting and bandaging JJ's injuries, slapping his hands away when he poked at particularly gnarly gashes.

"Ow! Take it easy Nurse Ratched," JJ grumbled.

"Hey, it's either me or an awkward explanation at the ER," You retorted, pressing an ice pack none-too-gently against JJ's swollen eye.

JJ snorted, then immediately regretted it as pain ricocheted through his ribs. You finished patching him up in silence, then sat beside him on the edge of your bed as you tossed JJ a clean shirt and some sweats from his designated drawer.

He changed quickly and flopped back onto your bed with a contented sigh. "My hero! What would I do without you?"

"Bleed out on my window sill probably," You chuckled, settling in next to him.

It was a sad routine, but you was always glad JJ felt safe coming to you, knowing you’d patch up his physical and emotional wounds without question.

"You know you can't keep doing this, right?" You said quietly.

JJ just shrugged, staring at the floor. You guys had this conversation before.

"I mean it this time. We've gotta figure something out." You put a hand on his shoulder. "Just…promise me you won't go back there tonight?"

JJ nodded reluctantly.

You stared at JJ as he nodded reluctantly, clearly exhausted from yet another violent encounter with his abusive father. You wished more than anything that you could protect him, but JJ was fiercely independent and hated relying on anyone, even you.

"C'mon, let's get you settled in," You said gently, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from your closet. You fluffed up the pillow and handed it to JJ, who sank into it with a groan.

"Damn Y/N, these 600 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets are straight fire," JJ mumbled into the pillow. "Kook life definitely has its perks."

You chuckled softly as you spread the blanket over him. "I know it's not the hammock at the Chateau, but I hope it's comfy enough."

JJ cracked one eye open and gave you a sleepy grin. "With you here? Anywhere is paradise."

You felt yourself blush, your heart skipping a beat. No matter how many times JJ showed up battered and broken on your doorstep, you could never quite ignore the butterflies his presence awakened.

"Alright Romeo, get some rest," You whispered, clicking off the bedside lamp. You curled up on your side of the bed, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of JJ's chest as he drifted off.

Tomorrow you’d make him talk. He couldn't keep hiding bruises and secrets forever. But for now, JJ was safe. And that was enough.

The next morning, JJ awoke slowly, his wounds from the previous night throbbing dully. He was momentarily disoriented by the soft bed and sunlight streaming through gauzy curtains until he remembered he was in your room. He glanced over and saw you curled up on the window seat, hair mussed and a tiny line of drool dripping down your chin. JJ smiled. Even with dried spit on your face you were still cute as hell.

He considered waking you up but decided to let you sleep. You always mother-henned him; it was kind of nice to see you be the vulnerable one for once. JJ stretched gingerly, wincing as his ribs protested. Well, might as well take advantage of the fancy digs while he could.

JJ quietly snuck out of your room towards the opulent kitchen, grabbing a muffin and some orange juice. Damn, rich people breakfasts hit differently. As he was raiding the fridge for more snacks, he heard light footsteps behind him.

"Well well, if it isn't my favorite charity case."

JJ rolled his eyes before turning around. "Morning Topper," he said through a mouthful of stolen baked goods. Your brother leaned against the doorframe, signature smug grin in place.

"Rough night again at the Maybank estate?" Topper asked, fake sympathy dripping from his voice.

"You know me, just living the dream," JJ deadpanned back.

Topper laughed humorlessly. "Try not to bleed out on the white carpets this time. I had to burn that rug you know, hepatitis risk."

JJ flipped him off good-naturedly and went back to rummaging the fridge, ignoring Topper's bitching. He was used to the verbal jabs by now. And it was a small price to pay for your tender loving care.

You padded quietly to the kitchen and saw JJ. "Morning," you said softly. "How're you feeling?"

JJ attempted his signature cocky grin, though it came out as more of a pained grimace. "Ready for round two, obviously," he joked half-heartedly.

You smiled sadly and sat down beside him. "JJ…" you began tentatively. "We need to talk about what happened. I'm worried about you."

JJ's grin faded, his expression growing shuttered. "You patched me up the same as always, I'll be fine." He avoided your earnest gaze.

"You and I both know this can't continue." Y/N placed a hand on his arm, noting how he flinched almost imperceptibly at your gentle touch.

"Drop it Y/N, I mean it," JJ muttered, a hard edge to his voice as he stared resolutely at the floor.

You acquiesced for the moment, but remained determined. You would get the truth from JJ, one way or another. His safety depended on it.

You sat in silence beside JJ until he finally met your eyes again, his usual carefree demeanor restored.

"So…" he drawled with a mischievous glint in his eye. "How should we spend this lovely truant morning m'lady? I'm thinking of a beach bonfire and beers. Oh, and we gotta stop by the garage and pick up my bike first."

You smiled and shook your head indulgently. "Fine but I'm driving. No operating heavy machinery with a concussion."

JJ grinned and hopped up, wobbling only slightly. "Yes Mom. Now c'mon, the last one to the car is buying snacks!"

You followed JJ into the cavernous garage attached to your family's mansion, filled with luxury cars and boats that cost more than most people's homes. JJ let out an impressed whistle as he strolled past the rows of gleaming vehicles.

"Damn Y/N, I know your family is loaded but this is next level," JJ said, trailing his fingers along the glossy paint job of a candy apple red vintage Corvette. "Your parents must really be raking in the cash to afford all these fancy rides."

You shrugged self-consciously. "I guess when you're constantly trying to one-up the neighbors, you end up with a garage full of absurdly expensive cars you rarely drive."

You grabbed the keys to your sensible Toyota Camry hybrid. JJ made a face.

"Oh come on, we're not taking the freakin' treehugger mobile to the beach bonfire," he complained. "Let's take the 'Vette! Or the Range Rover. Ooh what about the Jag?" JJ darted around excitedly, peering through tinted windows.

"Yeah, because that wouldn't draw any attention, me rolling up to the beach in a $150,000 sports car," You replied sarcastically.

JJ pouted dramatically. "You never let me have any fun."

You rolled your eyes and tugged on his arm. "You can pick the music at least. And I'll stop for beer and snacks on the way."

"Deal!" JJ's eyes lit up. He slid into the passenger seat of your Camry, immediately plugging his phone into the stereo. Loud rock music began blasting through the speakers.

You laughed and shook your head indulgently. You couldn't resist JJ's childlike enthusiasm. And you had to admit, it was nice to see him acting carefree instead of battered and brooding.

Maybe a relaxing day at the beach was just what they needed. Maybe you could try again to get JJ to open up later. For now, you cranked up the music and sang along loudly as you drove towards paradise by the sea.

As the bonfire dwindled on the beach, you and JJ stumbled your way back to your place, leaning on each other in your drunken haze. Laughter filled the night as JJ tripped over his own shoelaces, causing both of you to collapse onto the sand.

"Y/N, you know I lo-" he slurred, interrupted by a fit of giggles. Rolling your eyes, you grinned and helped him brush off the sand from his jeans.

Back in your room, the drunken haze intensified, illuminated by the soft glow of fairy lights that framed JJ's half-lidded blue eyes and tousled blond hair. His gaze roamed over your body, fixating on the neckline of your crop top, his lips moist as he licked them.

Struggling with the button of his jeans, JJ muttered a string of curses under his breath, his efforts finally paying off with a satisfying click. The denim pooled around his ankles, hitting the floor with a thud.

You approached him, a mischievous giggle escaping your lips as he clumsily kicked off the jeans. His hands fumbled with your jeans, struggling to undo them. Never one to back down from a challenge, you bit your lip and palmed his bulging arousal through his boxers, effectively distracting him.

With a groan, he managed to push his boxers down, his hard cock springing free, droplets of pre-cum glistening on the tip. The sight of his vulnerability, his readiness for you, stirred wetness to pool between your thighs. The tantalizing ache began to grow, a desperate craving for him consuming your thoughts. You wanted him more than you wanted air.

Discarding your jeans and panties, you climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. JJ's eyes widened at the sight of you completely exposed, the raw desire in his gaze making you feel irresistibly sexy.

Running your hands up your stomach, you cupped your own breasts through your top, releasing a moan when his eager hands replaced yours, freeing them completely.

"Fuck, Y/N, you're a damn goddess," he slurred, leaning forward to capture your hardened nipple with his mouth. You murmured appreciatively, your fingers tangling in his messy hair.

His hands grew impatient on the bare skin of your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh, fueling your growing arousal. Shifting slightly, you gave him a better view of your drenched core, making him moan around your nipple.

His fingers danced along your slick folds, causing you to arch your back and gasp at the electrifying touch. Waves of pleasure cascaded through your body, radiating from the tightened skin around your nipples. You rocked yourself against his fingers, aching for more.

His eyes burned with lust as he watched you ride his fingers. Parting your folds with a languid stroke, he eased a finger into your tight heat. The sensation of being filled was intoxicating, your wetness coating his fingers as he pumped slowly, each brush against your clit amplifying your need for him.

Breathing heavily, you whispered, "Fuck, JJ... more." You craved his entirety, every inch of him.

Without hesitation, JJ aligned his throbbing cock with your entrance. Both of you gasped as the head of his cock brushed against your clit, mixing his pre-cum with your own arousal. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto his length, relishing the exquisite stretch that made you fall forward, bracing your palms against his chest.

Digging your nails into his flesh, you ground against him, the smooth glide of your scorching core over his throbbing cock leaving him breathless. Moaning uncontrollably against his ear, you bucked against him, establishing a torturous rhythm that had both of you teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.

"Damn, Y/N... you feel so fucking perfect wrapped around me," he grunted, his fingers leaving marks on your hips as he matched your movements.

"You fill me so fucking good, JJ," you growled into his neck, each forceful thrust hitting your g-spot and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your body. The mounting pressure coiled low in your stomach, intensifying with every powerful thrust.

Your moans transformed into desperate curses, the rough and rapid movements pushing you perilously close to the edge of climax. As JJ drove into you, his teeth nibbled at your nipples, his fingers pinched and pulled. The dual sensations sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you, building towards an explosive release.

The early morning light seeped through the gaps in the heavy, velvet curtains, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. The scent of ocean salt, mingling with the lingering notes of last night's bonfire, permeated the air. JJ, with his tousled blonde hair and sleep-filled eyes, groggily awoke on the luxurious king-sized bed, the silk sheets tangling around his legs. He looked down, seeing his clothes scattered haphazardly across the polished oak floor, a smirk forming on his lips as memories of the previous night flooded back.

Suddenly, a soft giggle drew his attention to the other side of the bed where you lay, your hair spread out on the pillow like a halo, your eyes sparkling with mischief. You were wrapped up in a plush, pink robe, looking every bit the princess of your own castle. Seeing JJ awake, your giggles turned into full-blown laughter.

"What's so funny, Thornton?" JJ asked, his voice rough from sleep and last night's indulgences.

"Your face," You replied, pointing a finger at his forehead. "You've got a mark from my 'Princess of OBX' tiara."

Looking into the tall, gilded mirror in the corner of the room, JJ spotted the small, heart-shaped glittery mark on his forehead. Instead of feeling embarrassed, he let out a hearty laugh, the sound echoing through the room. "Well, isn't that fitting?" he quipped back. "JJ the Princess, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

As laughter filled the room, the tension from your unexpected intimacy dissolved, replaced by your familiar camaraderie. Despite your different worlds you found comfort in your shared sense of humor and friendship. The reality of your actions would eventually need to be addressed, but for that quiet, soft morning, you allowed yourselves to bask in the afterglow of their newfound closeness.

506 notes · View notes

amethystwrytes · 1 month ago

Text

Safe. (Part Four)

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem. Reader x Lee Minho

Summary: A broke ER Nurse offers up her services to a large crime organization in exchange for much higher pay and benefits that are unconventional, but lucrative. The life proves to be questionable at best, and downright isolating at worst which leaves her feeling unsure, unstable and dangerous.

Warnings: Explicit language. Explicit depictions of sex (some chapters will be more explicit than others sexually). Violence. Blood. Trauma injuries. (Organized) Crime. Emotional manipulation. Discussion of murder and physical assault. Medical inaccuracy galore. Smoking. Past addiction. 18+ Only.

Chapter WC: 5k

Read Parts One, Two and Three Here

- PART FOUR -

Christopher helps you through the unfamiliar door. Immediately Minho and Hyunjin spring up from the sitting area and rush you.

“Are you alright?”

“What did they say?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh, “I’ve got a few cracked ribs, that’s the worst of it.”

“We have your bedroom ready, Felix and the others brought all your things,” Minho rubs your arm. You just nod.

“Come, I’ll help you upstairs,” Hyunjin wraps his arm around your shoulder and leads you like an injured puppy.

The new bedroom is cozy, inviting. If you had walked into the house for a tour you’d know two things for sure: One, you’d never afford this in a thousand years, and two, it really is beautiful. Anyones dreamhouse. You look out onto the backyard from the window and see there’s even a pool, it’s covered and closed in preparation for the coming cooler months, but it’s there. You love to swim, and you picture yourself lounging in the chaises like a cat in the sun, then cooling off in clear blue water. Then you remember that you probably wouldn’t make it till Spring, and even if you did you’d probably have to change houses before the warm weather comes.

“What will happen to the other house?” you wonder out loud, wonder what fate will become of the house you got so used to, “Burn it to the ground?” you joke dryly, unsmiling.

“No,” Hyunjin answers softly, “We’ll repair the windows and clean it up, then stick a for sale sign in the front yard.”

“Good, it’s a good house. It deserves a family that lives inside, happy, with pets or kids or something,” you say sadly.

“___,” he says your name with despair, and you turn to look at him, he looks like a man with a thousand things to say, and you briefly remember him catching you with Minho earlier, at the Casino. You can’t find it within you to care about that right now though. Finally, he lets out a resigned breath and shakes his head, “Let’s run a bath for you.”

He disappears into the adjoining bathroom and you hear the water start to run. Shimmying out of your clothes leaves you feeling sore and feeble. You find a bathrobe amongst your things and shrug it on.

You say nothing as you stand in front of the bath, Hyunjin beside you, stoic and unmoving. You don’t care anymore, so you remove the robe and step into the hot water, carefully submerging yourself. Hyunjin appears at the side of the tub, kneels down and dips a cloth into the water then rings it out over your skin. You stare at the faucet, studying each drop that drips from the opening making ripples on the water as Hyunjin washes you. He carefully wipes the blood away, then gently turns your face toward him so he can clean the dried blood around your lips.

Suddenly the door opens and Minho steps inside, you can see him falter in his stride, briefly pausing to examine the scene before him. Hyunjin only turns his head slightly, not even enough to look at Minho, then goes back to washing and rinsing.

“Do you have everything you need darling?” Minho asks, you guess he’s decided not to ask about why Hyunjin is washing your naked body. Given the circumstances he might not care, or maybe he does and you’ll both pay for this at a later date.

“Yes,” is all you say.

Minho comes and sits on the edge of the tub, he looks between you and Hyunjin for a few seconds, “I’m sorry that this happened, I’m just…so, so sorry.”

“It’s done,” you say, leaning back against the tub wall.

“It’s far from done,” Minho says darkly, “In fact I’m about to head out to make this right. I will make this right.”

You don’t say anything. Minho shoots one last quizzical look at Hyunjin before standing up and heading towards the door.

“I’m staying here, with her,” Hyunjin pipes up. Minho stops and looks down at Hyunjin. He looks like he’s about to say something, a look of irritation darkens his eyes for only a few seconds before he inhales sharply, then exhales.

“Very well,” he stuffs his hand in his pocket and marches out without another word.

Hyunjin continues bathing you in silence, but when the silence becomes too loud you reach in front of you and pull the drain stopper, then drag yourself up. He hands you a towel and you dry off then slide back into the same bathrobe. You quietly walk back into the bedroom, turn the covers down and get in.

Hyunjin follows and watches you for several moments before he removes his shirt and dress pants, he slides into bed next to you. You look at him briefly, eyes brimming with new tears, and he pulls you in close to him, engulfing you in the safety of his body.

“I’ve got you, I’m not going anywhere until you order me away,” he whispers.

“I’m sorry,” you say.

“Why on Earth would you be sorry?” he half laughs, gently smoothing your hair down.

“At the Casino earlier, when you walked in…”

“I don’t care,” he takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly, “I don’t care if you’re with him, if you want him. I should care, but I don’t. I was angry at first, jealous, but then the call came in that something had happened to you and I,” his voice cracks and he rights himself, “and I realized that I don’t care what you are to him, what you do with him - I care about you. Deeply. It’s borderline pathetic,” he chokes on a laugh, “but I care about you so much ___. When we walked in and you were laying there and I thought you were dead, something inside me broke.”

“Why do you like me so much?” you sniff, “I’m trying to understand, but I just don’t get it. I’ve done nothing to deserve any kind of affection from you.”

He chuckles a bit, “I don’t know. At first it was pretty basic - I just thought you were hot,” he nudges you playfully and you smile a bit, “Then weeks passed, I kept bringing in my friends beat to hell and back and no matter what we told you, you treated us well, you didn’t look at us like we were monsters, that pulled some kind of heartstring of mine.”

“So just because I’m nice to you?” you ask, “What kind of people are you meeting anyway?”

He laughs, “None that are nice, I’ll tell you that. I don’t know, when we kissed the other night, I thought, this is it, if I kiss her and it’s nothing more than a hot little makeout session then I’ll know I just have a crush, that I’m attracted to the pretty nurse who takes care of us and has kindness in her heart, that’s not a huge reach after all. Then we kissed, and all I could think about was running off with you so I could kiss you anytime I want, I’ve been daydreaming about this pretend life where you work in some hospital somewhere and I have a normal fucking career that doesn’t end with me dead or in prison. Now the only way I can fall asleep at night is imagining that.”

You nestle your head deeper into his shoulder, “How the Hell did you get here Hyunjin? How did someone as sweet and good get here?”

“Remember when you were patching me up, and I wouldn’t take the pills because I used to have a problem?”

“I do, yeah.”

“It was a little more than just a problem, I was strung out of my mind most days, and the days I wasn’t I was strung out in withdrawal, desperately looking for someone who had anything I could take. I had no money, I had no friends - unless you count my plugs - I lost my apartment, all my stuff. I would pretend to be passed out on drug dealers couches just to have somewhere to sleep, but I was living on the streets, doing anything anyone wanted so I could buy pills.”

“Jesus,” you say softly, squeezing him a little tighter.

“One night Changbin came across me, he mistook me for someone Minho was looking for and tried to drag me into the car, but all I could think about was the pills I’d stashed and how I wouldn’t get them now and I just lost it on him. We beat the shit out of each other. I think he realized I wasn’t the guy, but he tossed me in the car anyway and brought me to Lee. Told him I was a hell of a fighter, but a junkie. Lee basically put me in solitary confinement, for weeks, months really. I went through Hell, in different stages of detox, altered states of consciousness. I dropped so much weight I looked like I was dying…but I got through it. Minho saved me; he gave me a job, an apartment, I owe him and Bin everything,” he explains.

“Hyunjin,” you prop yourself up above him so you can really look, “I’m not saying that what Minho did wasn’t good for you, it was, but the second you got better, the second he let you out of whatever hole you were detoxing in, you could’ve gone straight back. That choice was yours. All you. The other night when I offered you pain meds you could’ve taken them, I mean anytime you walked into that house you could’ve gone straight to my medicine closet, you chose not to, over and over you chose.”

You cup his face with the palm of your hand, “I’m glad you found people who pushed you, but don’t let yourself think that every single day it isn’t you who’s choosing to stay sober, you owe yourself just as much admiration and gratitude.”

“See right there,” he puts his hand over yours and lays you back down gently on the pillows, “That’s what I love about you, that’s why your face is the only thing I can think about at night.”

His lips brush against yours softly, and you hold his chin with your fingertips while your mouths move together. He pulls away and rubs his nose against yours, eyes screwed shut.

“You need to rest,” he whispers, “You’ve been through Hell tonight, go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

For two days all you do is sleep, and everytime you do, you dream about the three men who broke into the house and nearly beat you to death. Sometimes they still wear their masks, other times their faces are just Kim Taehyung, his menacing voice saying “I’ll be seeing you” over and over. Then, a few times, their faces are Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin or one of the other men you’ve come to know and care about. Each time you wake up, totally sure that you’ve been thrashing and screaming, but according to Hyunjin you’re as still as the dead when you’re out.

You’re on the couch asleep one evening when you hear the door open, your eyes immediately go wide, but you remain still on the couch, heart pounding despite knowing Hyunjin sits only a few feet away.

“How is she?” Minhos voice is quiet, a whisper, and you realize he thinks you’re asleep, so you close your eyes and pretend. You don’t want to talk to him, you aren’t ready to tell him about your plan to leave when you can move without pain.

“She’s been sleeping a lot, like, a lot but I make her eat and drink when she’s awake,” Hyunjin answers. “I’m scared she’s going to carry this with her forever.”

Me too, you can’t help but think.

“She’s strong,” Minho says, “I don’t think she knows it, but I can see it in her.”

It goes quiet for a moment, but then Minho clears his throat, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”

Your heart starts pounding again. This is it, you think. He’s going to confront Hyunjin about the nature of your - relationship? Not that you could call it one. You couldn’t even call what you have with Minho a relationship.

“I have feelings for her, yes,” Hyunjin answers without giving him the opportunity to ask the question. Your very breath catches in your throat and you wait for the blow, unsure whether it will be verbal or physical. You wait for what feels like an eternity.

“I see,” is all Minho says. “And does she have feelings for you?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin answers, “I think she has feelings for you though.”

“I can’t imagine why,” Minho chuckles to himself. “I’m not a good man. I’m a monster.”

You silently wonder if Hyunjins face is as shocked as you feel, Minho opening up about anything seems like such an impossibility, yet you heard him clearly.

“I used to be in control of it though, sort of, it was this weird self-awareness switch I could flip on and off when I needed to. I always had the ability to be ruthless, heartless, unfeeling - but I could be different when the day was done. Then, when Seola was killed,” he sighs and takes a second or two, “when I lost her, I also lost the ability to turn that switch on and off. Suddenly I didn’t care. I didn’t care what happened to me, what happened to you guys, what happened to our enemies. I just wanted everyone as miserable as me, to suffer like me. The more time that passed the less ability I had to control that switch, and I didn’t give a fuck.”

“Do you give a fuck now?” Hyunjin asks, and you can feel them staring at you.

“The night I met __ was the first time in three years that I felt anything. This woman who found me bleeding in the hospital parking lot, who should’ve gone back in and told security but instead she laid her job on the line to save me. It was the first time in years that I thought, I genuinely hope nothing bad ever happens to this person,” he laughs dryly, “and then look at what I did to her. I snatched her away from a perfectly respectable career, I’ve threatened her, made her scared of me, and now I’ve nearly gotten her beaten to death.”

“Do you love her?” Hyunjin asks him, and you stop breathing altogether.

“I don’t want to love her,” Minho answers, “The more time I spend with her, the harder I fight to not love her. This all started because I think she and I both desperately needed some company, and now I’m ready to spill the blood of every person I come across because of what happened to her.”

“So what do we do?” Hyunjin asks.

“About what?”

“What do we do about how we feel for her?” Hyunjin clarifies.

Minho is quiet for a bit, then lets out a breath, “We let her decide I suppose. In the meantime, I plan on working on that blood-spilling thing. When she wakes up, call me.”

“Okay,” Hyunjin answers.

“You’re the best I’ve got Hyunjin,” you hear Minho pause at the door, “and I don’t want to lose either of you over this, but I don’t know how I feel about sharing, it’s not in my nature.”

“Me either, sir,” Hyunjin says resolutely.

Minho chuckles, “Good to know.” Then he’s gone.

You listen as Hyunjin retreats to the kitchen area, then you hear the sound of the sliding glass door that leads out to the back patio and you’re alone.

You sit up and stretch a little, replaying their conversation over and over in your mind. You feel bad that Hyunjin isn’t aware you have feelings for him, and you feel bad because maybe Minho deserves more than the way you’ve hated him recently.

We let her decide…

You audibly scoff at this. Decide? As if you’re choosing who to go to prom with. As if you’re in a little love triangle from a romantic comedy and by the end everything will be right as rain, with no one hurt or upset. Please.

The truth is you have feelings for both of these men, Minho your dark, dangerous unpredictable disaster; Hyunjin your kind, caring artist who is so misplaced in this world of crime that it would be funny if it weren’t so deadly.

The other truth is that it doesn’t matter. You won’t be around long enough to need to decide anything. Even if you allow yourself to think about staying, you don’t like the idea of choosing. As selfish as it makes you feel, you would choose them both, every time. You try to ignore the way it makes your heart ache to think about leaving them behind.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

“Hello gorgeous.”

You look up from your reading chair and see Chris stepping into your bedroom, yellow roses and daisies in a bouquet under his arm.

“Christopher?”

“Just thought I’d come by to say Hello, and to see how you were feeling, and you know, to see how your getaway plan is going?”

“Where’s Hyunjin,” you look over him, as if Hyunjin is right behind.

“He went to meet Lee for something, I’m supposed to get you dressed and take you to meet them,” he says.

You raise an eyebrow, “Just here to say Hello and check on me, huh?”

“Hey, nobody made me stop and get these flowers, I care, okay?” he defends himself and you laugh.

“Why do I have to go meet them?” you wonder, deciding to avoid getaway plans or explanations. At this point you feel well enough to pack, well enough to drive, yet you’re sitting here reading the same romance novel you read to Hyunjin that night a few weeks ago.

Chris shoots you a look, “I’m a chauffeur at best, you think I know anything?”

“You’re not just a chauffeur, you also have a knack for picking out dresses,” you tease.

“Ah, smooth transition into our options for this afternoon,” he walks over to your closet and starts selecting things - he emerges with a pair of jeans tossed over his shoulder, “I’m just delivering you to the Casino office, so no evening wear this time,” he teases.

“Thank God.”

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

Walking into the Casino at nine in the morning is very different than walking in at nine at night. Totally different crowd, brighter lights. You pause at the Blackjack table and stare down at it, run your fingers over the black velvet lining.

I’ll be seeing you.

Kim Taehyungs voice echoes, menacing in your brain, and suddenly your stomach is in knots.

“Are you joining?” the dealer calls to you.

You look at her and shake your head back and forth, walking away towards Christopher who is waiting for you.

Christopher leads you back into the area behind the Casino walls, where the very air is different. Darker. Something doesn’t feel right, but you pass it off as being behind the scenes, seeing the things that the general public isn’t supposed to see. When you reach a service elevator he stops, and presses a button, the doors immediately opening.

“This is as far as I go,” he says cautiously.

“Why?” you look at him.

He shrugs, “I do what I’m told.”

You look at the elevator and then back at him, the worry in your eyes must be visible.

“Press B when you get in, and keep your chin up, I know what goes on down there and the tougher you look the safer you’ll be,” he says.

“If that’s supposed to be encouraging then I’m sorry but you suck at it,” you force a laugh, but really you’re just procrastinating.

He chuckles, “I happen to know that both Minho and Hyunjin are down there, so I doubt highly anything bad is going to happen to you, but it never hurts to look like you can beat the shit out of anyone who looks at you wrong.”

“Right,” you sigh and step into the elevator.

When it opens Hyunjin is standing there waiting, you immediately relax.

“How are you?” he asks.

“Fine,” you feel so awkward around him now. He nor Minho are aware you overheard their conversation from yesterday.

He leans in and kisses you softly and there goes the awkwardness. Your body is still sore, and likely will be for weeks, but you lift your arms despite the pain and wrap them around his neck, holding yourself close to him, letting his warmth engulf you.

He pulls away, his eyes holding something back. He looks as though he’s about to tell you he ran over your cat, if you had one that is.

“What?”

“Remember the night I told you that you were the good in all this?”

“Yes…”

“Well I’m about to drag you into the bad,” he says apologetically.

“What are you talk-,”

“Darling,” Minhos voice descends upon you and you watch as he smiles, his hand extending out towards you, his demeanor the complete opposite of Hyunjin, “Come.”

You look at Hyunjin quizzically once more then take Minhos hand in yours. The confusion you feel, not just at trying to guess what the Hell is about to happen, but also at the way you seem to be just as relieved to see Minho as you do Hyunjin has your head spinning. You should’ve taken something for the inevitable headache that’s coming on fast.

“How do you feel today?” he asks.

“Sore,” you answer honestly, “but it’s getting a little better each day. I’m okay.”

“Good, I’ve been so worried about you, but I’ve tried to keep my distance, give you space,” he leans in and kisses your temple. The pressure of the kiss temporarily relieves the ache in your head and you lean into it, into him.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers and you wonder how he’s so good at it. So good at the sweet, the soft, the delicate when you know what he’s capable of.

“What am I doing here?” you look up at him.

“I need you to see something,” he smiles and opens a heavy door.

You follow him into a large room and at first you don’t see him, your eyes adjusting to the darker area, trying to identify all the odds and ends you see. Then it hits you, that the giant glass window separating this room from another is actually a reciprocal mirror, and on the other side in the middle of an empty room sits a man, tied to a chair. Bloodied and beaten. Your mouth goes dry.

Hyunjin saunters into the room behind you and closes the door.

You look between the beaten man, Minho and Hyunjin, “What have you done? Who is that person?”

“Nothing, yet,” Minho answers. “This is one of the men who attacked you. I wanted you to know I made good on my word, partially, until I get my hands on the others.”

You whip your throbbing head back towards the man, your heart rate sky rockets.

“What are you going to do?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

Minho seems to hyperfocus on the glass instead of looking at you, “I need information. So I’m going to ask questions.”

“And after that?”

Minho doesn’t answer so you twist around, painfully, and stare at Hyunjin who only stares at his fists.

“Are you going to kill him?” you ask carefully.

At this Minho looks at you, “Do you want me to?”

You can feel Hyunjins head snap up to look between the two of you.

“What?” you furrow your brows.

“I said, do you want me to kill him?”

You turn away from Minho and shut your eyes tight. In addition to the headache that now throbs, your stomach also feels nauseous.

The image of the three men who busted through your window that night has haunted you ever since it happened. What kind of person would beat a stranger who did nothing just because someone told him to?

Hyunjin. Seungmin. Jisung. Felix. Jeongin. Changbin.

They’ve all beaten people they didn’t know, killed people they didn’t know - just because Lee Minho told them to.

You look at the man strapped to the chair, his face is swollen and bruised, but unmasked; your eyes flood with tears. Suddenly you realize the weight of it all. All this time you’ve had this mindset that you were helping the good guys, that Minho’s ‘team’ was the team to be on. You only ever see them as victims, after the dirty work, they come to you bleeding, cut open, shot - they come to you as patients. There are no good guys, and now you’re one of them. You’re a part of this.

Like a ton of bricks hitting you all at once, you realize that running away won’t do any good. If you run then eventually you’ll get caught. Maybe by Taehyung, who would torture you and deliver the parts to Minho to break him. Maybe by the police, the few left who are actually still fighting crime that is; and they’ll put you in prison for being an accessory to God only knows what kind of criminal acts, for aiding and abetting these men in their endeavors, for practicing and distributing medicine illegally, for any number of reasons. Whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not, the safest place for you to be is right here standing between Hyunjin and Minho.

“Love? Why are you crying?”

You sniff and wipe your tears off your cheeks. You’re crying because you’ve solidified this life for yourself. Maybe as early as the night you helped Minho in the parking lot at work, or maybe it was sometime later, some undefined moment when you fell in love with the two men standing near you. Either way, there is nowhere to go.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say.

“It matters to me,” he says, “is this too much? I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

You shake your head, “No. What I mean is that it doesn’t matter if I want you to kill him or not,” you look Minho in the eyes, then do the same with Hyunjin, “You two are going to kill him anyway.”

You see the way Hyunjin looks at Minho and know that he just confirmed your assumption.

Minho lets out a long breath and nods, “Yes. It would have made me feel better if you wanted him dead though.”

You look into the room again, taking in the image of this man who beat you senseless. You wonder if it was the man who punched your face, or the man who held you down, or the man who kicked your ribs so hard they cracked. You clench your jaw tightly.

“I never said I didn’t.”

Minhos head whips towards you and though his lips don’t form an actual smile, a dangerously pleasant expression creeps across his face.

“Good then. Hyunjin, why don’t you take our girl back to Christopher, we can finish this when you come back down,” he instructs.

Our girl.

“I want to see it.”

Hyunjin makes an odd sounding noise in his throat, “___, no…”

Minho looks perplexed but he holds his hand up to quiet Hyunjin.

“It won’t be pretty love,” he cautions you.

“I’m an ER nurse Minho, don’t you think I know that?”

“If you stay and witness this, you won’t be able to leave us, you’ll be part of this,” he goes on and you look at him.

“Christopher told you I was running?” you guess.

“He told me that you weren’t sure you wanted to stay with us, and I didn’t blame you after what I said to you, and then what happened to you, but if you stay and watch this, you’re just as responsible as I will be. At least legally,” Minho explains.

You make a mental note to start keeping secrets, like Hyunjin does, you have no confidantes here. You’re not even angry with Chris. A part of you knew he’d run and tell Minho, maybe that’s why you said it.

“I understand.”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Hyunjin pipes, “You’re the good part of all this…don’t become…” he trails off, you assume he meant don’t become like us.

You look up at Minho who shrugs, “It’s up to you darling, but I’ll admit it’s an unusual request.”

Maybe they’re right. Maybe you don’t need to see this. If you’re going to be all in then there are other ways to do so. The thought of Hyunjin thinking less of you is enough to stop your sudden need to see the man who nearly killed you murdered.

“Fine. Then I’ll see myself out,” you stop at the door, “but I think I’d like to see you later, both of you, I think we have things to discuss.”

“We’ll bring you dinner then,” Minho kisses your lips. He shouldn’t look as proud as he looks, and it shouldn’t make you feel as good as it does.

Hyunjin hesitates, but eventually he walks to you and pulls you into a hug. He doesn’t kiss your lips, but he plants a gentle kiss to your cheek.

There’s a charge to the room now, something heavy that sits between the three of you. A mix between excitement and dread.

“Don’t bring anything,” you say softly, “I’ll cook. I’ll have Christopher drive me to the market.”

“He goes in with you,” Minho orders.

“Of course,” you nod. “See you soon, make sure you both clean up for dinner.”

Endnotes:

Do not hurt me for leaving it here, with zero spice - trust the process and know that I have plans to make it up to you all. This was one of the areas of the story that I initially mentioned not being sure on how to break up into a chapter. So if it feels like a sudden start or stop that’s probably why and I’m terrible at transitions…and pacing…and ya know, lots of stuff 😂

Taglist(s): OKAY. So this week I learned that you can only tag FOIVE people in a post (wtf Tumblr?). So, with that newfound knowledge I suppose I’m going to have to reblog with taglists multiple times in order to include everyone who wants to be tagged, and that should finally take care of my “hey I can’t tag you problem” S/O to @moni-logues who brought this to my attention (and who also helped me talk myself through some decisions for this fic bc she is amazing and a wonderful listener and friend), and subsequently gets spot 1 of 5 in this round of tags haha.

Taglist 1: @katieraven @linocz @screamobubbles @hpnsfwaddict

#skz fanfiction #hyunjin fanfiction #lee minho fanfiction #skz smut #hyunjin smut #lee know smut #skz romance #hyunjin romance #lee know romance #hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #stray kids

97 notes · View notes

kiame-sama · 1 year ago

Text

Aquarium- (Yandere!Merman!Chrollo x Reader) pt 2

Warnings; part 2, continuation of story, kidnapping, theft, yandere, mer-creature yandere, obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, involuntary physical change, mention of past noncon, some nsfw themes and moments, breeding kink, oviposition and mention of past oviposition, lactation kink,

~~~~~~~~

You slowly awoke, feeling oddly weightless and almost like the air around you was heavy. It took a moment for you to wake up further before you realized a handful of things simultaneously. The first was that you were suspended in water, the second was that you could still breathe, and finally you realized that there were two new attachments to either side of your ribs.

Impulsively, you reached up to grab at the odd things only to see they were actually sewn into your soft skin. It was more than a bit disorienting to see the new attachments and to see the extremely swollen state of your soft stomach.

As you scratched and tried to pull at the surprisingly tender attachments, the sound of clattering rocks made you stop your wild attempts and turn to look at the source of the sound. Though the light was limited minus what seemed to be some sunlight filtering down from a few cracks in the top of the stone cavern you were in, you could see an oddly familiar man. He was at the mouth of the cavern- which seemed to be the only entrance or exit- and spoke once he saw he had your attention.

"Darling, you can't take them off. I have ensured they will remain affixed to you for the remainder of your life. Even if you did damage them somehow, I would not allow you to drown."

You scoffed angrily. Despite the fact you were clearly in some kind of liquid, you knew humans couldn't breathe beneath the water. Clearly you were under the influence of something to make you think you were in water.

"Drown? What the hell? Where am I? The fuck are these things? Why the hell do I look pregnant-?"

The raven haired man pressed a finger to your lips to silence your questions and you vaguely felt the desire to bite the finger he held against your soft flesh. You fought against the impulse as you glared at the man who seemed more amused with your anger than anything. It was the octopus-man from the aquarium- Chrollo- and quickly your memories began to return to you.

You remembered being in the aquarium late at night and you remembered the man attacking you. Beyond that, you vaguely remembered the way he forced himself onto you and made you comply with his demands. It was difficult to remember much else beyond that and you felt anger bubble up in you.

"You can drown if you remove your new gills. The... Original owner... Won't be needing them anymore. You are in one of my dens. Well, in one of the back caverns of my den, to be exact. I will be keeping you here until you adjust to your new aquatic life. As for why you appear pregnant," he paused and two of his tentacles came up to caress your stomach, the other tentacles preventing you from stopping his gentle exploration, "it is because you are pregnant. You are full of my brood and I have no intention of allowing you to get away from me. You're stuck with me."

~~~~~~~~

Chrollo kissed your shoulders gently as he held you in a warm embrace, his tentacles and arms wrapped around you to keep you close. Each slow drag of his lips across your skin made you shiver slightly, your heart fluttering in your chest like the fragile wings of a butterfly. Thousands of questions rolled around in your mind, but the one that bothered you the most kept coming up.

"Why did you bring me here?"

Chrollo didn't stop the lazy way he traced his fingers and tentacles over your back, letting out a hum of contemplation. He didn't answer for a moment as his hand came to a brief pause when it reached your very swollen stomach, fingertips dancing over the delicate skin. You disliked the way he smiled and seemed to marvel at your swollen insides as if he were beyond pleased with the way you were stuffed full.

"I brought you here for the sole purpose of filling you with my eggs. My brood already grows within you and your body has adapted excellently to carrying them."

You felt dread wash over you, unable to tell if you were crying or not beneath the water. Honestly, you didn't know if you could cry anymore. Chrollo seemed to sense your sorrow all the same and nuzzled your neck, his attempt at soothing you only upsetting you further.

"Why..? Why me?"

"I have explained this to you already, Darling. You are unique and different from that which I expect from others. That and your ever intoxicating scent appeals to me in a way others do not."

The silence was heavy and seemed even heavier under the water, faint sunlight filtering into the underwater den Chrollo kept you in. Even if you tried to escape, you had no idea if you could go back to being on land for very long given the odd gills that you woke up with. They certainly seemed like a permanent attachment, meaning that he was likely to do this to you multiple times, not content with just one clutch of eggs growing within you.

"So, you... You put your eggs in me?"

"Yes, and I intend to do it countless more times after this."

"But I don't want to carry your eggs for you!"

"I don't remember ever asking what you want."

The harsh words made you recoil as best you could in his grasp, the octopus man almost seeming amused with your distressed attempts to get away from him. You barely put any space between the two of you as there seemed to be no true escape from the tentacles that held you. One adjusted its grasp and lightly dragged over your aching chest, making you unconsciously whimper and flinch in response.

"Sore breasts?"

"How- how do you..?"

"I can tell your body is preparing for our brood. It is ensuring there is enough of your warm and flavorful milk for our brood to feast on. You've been producing milk these past few days."

It was surprising to hear this as you hadn't even realized that you were lactating, let alone having been doing it for days now. You were still trying to adjust to life under the water, though your eyes were adjusted long before you opened them to your new surroundings, your mind was struggling to catch up. Of course he would know more about your body at this moment than you would, it seemed to just be another one of his unfair advantages.

"I don't know or care how you know what my... my milk tastes like, but-"

"You truly believe I wouldn't help myself while you rest?"

"I didn't want to know! Either way," you crossed your arms in an attempt to cover your chest, "I'm sure as hell not letting you have anymore-"

"It has never once been about what you want, but what I can make you do. Right now, I have a duty to take care of my mate, and your breasts are obviously sore, so let me relieve some of that pressure."

Despite the way you tried to struggle against him, Chrollo easily used his tentacles to pin your arms to your side. The vague covering he gave you to cover yourself almost instantly came untied and gave him access to your tender breasts. He didn't immediately latch his lips around your soft peak, instead he took a moment to cruelly pinch the sensitive peaks with an almost sadistic grin.

"I may not let our brood feast on your rich milk... It may have to be something for me exclusively..." He flicked your sore nipples and chuckled when you let out a squeal of discomfort, "How precious... Are they that sore, dear one? Let me help drain some of that milk that's causing your discomfort."

Before you could argue with him, he latched his mouth on your perked breast, intensely suckling as he let out soft moaning noises. You whined loudly as he gently kneaded your breast to get as much milk as possible, switching to your other breast to take an equal drink. Each intense suck made you flinch as you whimpered in response to the sensation, struggling against the tentacles until you could rest your hands on his shoulders to try and push him away.

He kept his mouth around your sensitive nipple and continued suckling, occasionally biting when you tried to remove him. It got to the point that the only thing you could do was let him do as he wished, finding the bites more painful than expected. Eventually he released your soft breast with a pop of his lips, finally giving you a rest.

"The sweetest cream..."

Chrollo seemed more than pleased with the way you had stopped struggling, a sly grin taking over his lips. He already knew you weren't going to be able to get away from him, especially since you were carrying his eggs inside of you. Besides, waiting outside of the den in the larger hollowed out volcano was the rest of the troupe.

They often shoaled together even if they would occasionally part for various reasons or purposes. This was one of the few times the entire troupe gathered together and had no immediate concerns. Chrollo knew that some of the troupe members were only present because they were curious about his new human mate.

The only other troupe member who has seen his mate was Machi and it was to check up on how your gills were healing. All of the other members were curious as Chrollo had never really had interest in others, let alone a human. Humans were food to them or interesting experiments to steal from, yet their leader- whom they all respected and adored- had taken a human as a mate.

There was little chance you would manage to get away from him with any efficiency before you were caught and returned to him.

He gently kissed your throat and two tentacles came up and caressed your swollen stomach.

"You know, I have plenty more eggs to stuff inside of you. I could keep you constantly stuffed full of my brood. Each clutch making your soft stomach bulge out..."

The slow way he stroked his hand across your skin sent chills down your body as you lay in his embrace.

"For now, as you are already stuffed to full capacity with my brood, I feel you should meet a certain group of my colleagues."

You wanted to argue against the idea of meeting any other sea creatures, seeing as your first interaction with him went so sideways. Chrollo seemed to be able to tell that you wanted to argue, his enigmatic smile never leaving his face.

"It wasn't a suggestion, Dearest."

~~~~~~~~

You slowly woke to the vague sensation of a light suction on your swollen nipples, whining as you came to consciousness. The feeling of tentacles wrapped around your engorged breasts and kneading them made you look down your front. Familiar ink black hair slowly waved with the water and his motions as Chrollo contently suckled on your warm breasts, happily feeding on your nutrient rich milk.

"Do you really have to do that whenever I sleep?"

Your complaint made Chrollo look up from where he was suctioned to your aching chest. He gently released your breast and licked his lips, seeming more than pleased with himself.

"I'm an opportunist feeder, Darling, I will take almost any meal available to me, even human."

"Then... Why didn't you eat me?"

"You don't smell like food to me, you have the scent of a mate."

You felt surprise run through you, wondering just what he meant by that. He just admitted that he would eat humans, but apparently your scent was not the same as other humans, enough so that he decided to mate you instead. Part of you wondered which you would have preferred if given the choice between the two.

Chrollo took advantage of your apparent mental absence to lightly squeeze his tentacles around you, holding you close to his chest and nuzzling your neck.

"Do you know what the best part about mating you was for me?"

You refused to entertain him with an answer, knowing he was going to tell you regardless of what you said.

"Stuffing you full of my eggs and seeing your warm stomach expand with each one, feeling them push into your womb. Every single one pumped into you, giving me endless pleasure and filling you up just right."

Chrollo let out a soft sound that was akin to a low hum, the noise sending shivers down your spine. The way he spoke was low and husky against your ear and clearly he took great pleasure from making you uncomfortable with his sultry purr. As you whined softly, he gently ran his fingers over your distended stomach as if worshipping your body.

"I can hardly wait to fill you up with the next brood, just watching your stomach stay nice and swollen for me."

Some part of you realized that Chrollo didn't care if you responded to him or if you were even listening. Clearly he was pleased with reminding himself that he had you trapped and planned to stuff you full of even more eggs. He kissed your forehead and cuddled close, his arms wrapped around your body.

"Go back to resting, Darling."

"Why, so you can feed on my milk again?"

"Yes. Now rest. I want you to meet my shoal soon."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #hxh yandere #yandere chrollo #hxh au #tw kidnap mention #tw mention of noncon #tw pregnancy #tw oviposition #yandere merman #yandere monster

688 notes · View notes

todoroklee · 10 months ago

Text

New arrival

Lee!alastor ler!lucifer

As of last week, lucifer had moved into the Hazbin Hotel! And whilst it was going amazing for everyone, Alastor wasn't so pleased with the whole situation. He thought that lucifer didn't need to be there because he already had a home, but Charlie was persistent, and how could he say no?

Alastor was just standing at the top of the stairs, leaning against the banister, just watching husk and angel chat about their day. Suddenly, he heard something behind him, but he wasn't afraid so he just waited for it to show itself. And it did.

"Alastor! My man!" Lucifer yelled right to Alastors' ear, making him jerk to the side and rub his ear.

"Hello lucifer." He sighed, "what do you want?"

"Hey! There's no need to be so harsh, I just wanted to get to know ya a little better seeing as I'll be living here with you," he giggled.

"Hmm, no," Alastor said coldly, turning his back on lucifer.

"That's no way to speak to the king of Hell!"

"..." no reply from Alastor.

"Oh come on! You have to speak to me."

"..." once again, zero reply.

"Alastor!" Lucifer yelled again near his ear, forcing him to jerk away and rub his ear again. But alas, still no reply. As he had hoped, Lucifer was getting preeetty annoyed, so he took matters into his own hands, quite literally.

"You're just gonna ignore me, huh?" Still no reply, "Fine, let's see how long you last Mr Tough Guy"

Confused, Alastor went to look towards lucifer, but he was gone? Then, Alastor felt something scratching gently on his ear, making him go crazy.

Ah. Lucifer.

"What the fuhuck do you think you're dohoing?!"

"What do you think?"

"I don't know but quihit it!"

"I think it's cute! I've never heard you genuinely laugh before, this is adorable!"

"Excuhuse meHEHE?!" Alastors laughter went up an octave as lucifer went down, wiggling his fingers in the crook of his neck.

"Awww. Is your neck too ticklish? For a Radio Demon, I must say you are very ticklish!"

"STOHOP!" He laughed as he tried to cover his mouth but it was no use, his laughter was too loud.

"What happens if I go... here?" Suddenly, lucifers' hands shot down to Alastors ribs, making him squeal and collapse on the floor.

"Fuhuck yohou luhucifeher" He said, wrapping his arms around his waist.

"My God you are so fucking ticklish."

Alastors cheeks grew slightly red as he got up and brushed himself off.

"Shut up." He said, walking slowly away.

"Oh, I'm not done, Alastor!" Lucifer said, grabbing his hand and pulling him back, leading them both to the floor, the perfect position. They wrestled for a minute before lucifer ended up straddling Alastor by a quick poke to his ribs, giving him the advantage.

"Lucifer! Don't you dare."

"Oh, I dare"

Lucifer clawed his hands and vibrated them on the sides of Alastors ribs, targeting each individual bone.

"nohOHOHOHO!" Alastor shrieked and squirmed, but it was no help in trying to escape the tickly heaven hell.

Lucifer looked in awe. How could the meanest Radio Demon in town be so fucking adorable? His laugh was so bubbly and happy... He had a real smile on his face, not that copy pasted one, but a real. Happy. Smile.

"You are fucking adorable" Lucifer exclaimed as he watched Alastor get progressively more red in the face.

"SHUHUT UHUP!"

"Hm...no!"

"BIHITCH!"

*gasp* "you did not just call lucifer himself a bitch! I think you need some punishment." Lucifer unclawed his hands and removed them from alastors body, giving him a minute to breathe before pinning his arms with his knees and blowing raspberries all over his ribs whilst gently scribbling and scratching all over his neck.

This pretty quickly sent poor old Alastor into hysterics. The mixture of soft, gentle tickles and the vibrations of the raspberries were heaven torture for him.

"PLEHEASE!"

Alastor begged as his laughter went silent. At the plea, lucifer stopped instantly and got off him, sitting next to him.

Alastor was still a cute little puddle of giggles on the floor, trying to get rid of the ghost Tickles left over.

"Can I help?"

Alastor nodded and stayed still whilst lucifer rubbed all of the phantom Tickles away.

"You alright?"

"Yeah..."

"Did I go too hard?"

"No! It was uh...nice..." He said shyly as he brushed himself off and walked away for real this time but ran back upstairs and hid when he realised that everyone had watched him get his shit wrecked. In his books however, it was worth it. But he would NEVER tell lucifer.

Au: this took like fucking two hours 😭 I hope you guys like it because weirdly proud?

#lee!alastor #ler!lucifer #alastor tickle #hazbin hotel tickle #sfw tickle #sfw tickle fic #sfw tickle community

266 notes · View notes

warlocksoup · 2 months ago

Text

masterlist | main masterlist | taglist

chapter one

now playing: unfold by the forth wanderers

Osamu tried to snatch it away, once he noticed that Sakusa saw. But he was just a second too late. And it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Sakusa saw.

“Erased?” he repeats back, holding the card stock pinched between his fingers, eyebrows drawn together. “What the fuck does this mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means,” Osamu replies pointedly, ripping the notice right out from between Sakusa’s fingers. The left corner of it slices the outermost layer of skin on his thumb. “She doesn’t remember you. It’s like you never met to her,” he explains, stuffing the card in his back pocket, expression hardened.

Sakusa is positive he’s not hearing right. He can’t be. It’s loud, a football match on in the living room and Osamu’s got something going on the stove that is sizzling and popping and it must be impacting his hearing. Because Sakusa cannot fathom it, cannot imagine a reality where it’s like he never met her. He shakes his head. “No, that’s not-”

“It is, man,” Osamu cuts him off. He sighs, and then turns his back to Sakusa, attention now on whatever it is he has on the stove. “Look, I tried to talk her out of it, but you know how she is. It’s not-once she makes her mind up about something, that’s it.”

Sakusa knows how she is. He doesn’t need to be told anything about her. Not by anyone. Especially not by Osamu.

He shakes his head. Osamu turns his back on him again. “She wouldn’t do that,” he whispers, like he’s trying to convince himself. But his fingers are shaking and throat is constricting. Because Sakusa knows exactly how she is. He knows too well that she would. But still, he says it again, like the more he utters it, the truer it will become, “She wouldn’t do that to me.”

He stands there dumbly, his whole body feeling like it’s stuck and his heart beating too quickly to be comfortable. Osamu sighs, frustrated, fed up. “Can you just, can you just try to forget about her? It’s just gonna cause a whole bunch of problems if you try to fight your way back into her life again. And the last thing she needs is more problems from you.”

✶⋆.˚

Sakusa lays awake, sheets kicked off his legs and a thin layer of sweat on his neck. The blue that emits from his phone screen baths him light as his thumb eagerly scrolls through the minimal, unhelpful Lacuna Inc. website.

The slightly sliced up layer of skin from the stock card scrapes against his phone screen. It’s mindless corporate garble, freeing yourself from the shackles of your memories, moving forward in life without emotional scars, removing the deadweight of the past.

Each word widens the gaping hole in his chest. Is that what he was to her? Some festering, rotting emotional wound she had to remove? He feels his breathing quicken, and he drops his phone down by his side in favor of staring blankly at the ceiling.

Gone. He’s just gone from her life. He can recall every detail of her. Sakusa knows everything about her, and he always will. He carries her close to her chest like she’s a rib. She’s everywhere, everything. He wouldn’t give her up, not for anything. But she did it so immediately, so eagerly. She took Sakusa and she made him nothing. Not even a memory. Not even a second thought. Just nothing.

Sakusa closes his eyes. He just cannot accept that.

✶⋆.˚

Recorded 08/09 @ Lacuna Inc., 08:45AM

“Why is it that you want Sakusa Kiyoomi removed from your memory?”

“It’s just like, he’s everywhere. He’s in everything I see and everything I do. He’s become this voice inside my head, and I can’t get rid of him no matter what I do. It’s like he’s invaded every part of my life and it just hurts. I can’t live like this. I can’t keep going on just like, carrying him around with me. I just want him gone.”

✶⋆.˚

She places his coffee down on the counter between them and smiles the way you would at a stranger. “For Sakusa,” she says, sweetly, politely.

He takes it and tries his hardest to brush his fingers against hers in the transfer, but she’s quick to pull her hand away. Sakusa stands there for a moment, lingering as he holds his coffee, giving her the opportunity to say something.

She says nothing. Like he has been every single day he’s been coming here. His shoulders deflate a bit as he moves to turn on his heel.

“Y’know,” she calls after him, and Sakusa freezes, those deflated shoulders now stiffened, and he turns back around to face her.

She’s smiling at him, coy and intrigued. He recognizes it. He knows it. He knows that look on her face and it makes his heart leap to his throat. Sakusa swallows before he answers. “Yes?”

She places two hands on the counter and leans in his direction. Sakusa feels like he can’t move. “I can’t figure out why you come in here everyday.”

Sakusa hopes his hands not shaking when he holds up the hot coffee she just made for him. “I like the coffee,” is his simple reply.

“Yeah,” she nods, “and that’s why you throw it out in that trash right out there the first chance you get?” she teases, using the tip of her chin to gesture towards the trashcan that sits right outside the coffee shop.

Sakusa burns red. He didn’t think she’d see that. He didn’t think she’d noticed him. He can’t think of anything to say, so he says nothing.

“At first I thought you were coming here for me, but that can’t be right, since you never asked for my number,” she sighs, studying her fingers and how they’re splayed out on the countertops. “Which is kind of a bummer for me. I’d really like to give you my number.”

Sakusa face feels hot, and he can’t imagine how stupid he looks, burning red and caught, nervous like some stupid kid. “You would?” he questions.

He doesn’t feel like himself. He never really felt like himself whenever he was around her. Not before, not now. Something about her has always made him feel undone. She smiles, and he’s disarmed. “Yeah, I dunno. It’s just something about you. I’ve thought so ever since you first came in.”

There she is. Overly familiar. Not a trace of embarrassment. Not a single part of her ashamed or hesitant. He always loved that about her. That was always the way she loved him. Bold and unabashed. “Something about me?” he echoes back.

“Something about you,” she confirms with a gleeful nod of her head. “I just feel like I need to know you, y’know?”

He knows. Sakusa knows.

taglist: @wyrcan @causenessus @lunasfics @19calicos @ciderscape @mollyrolls @sunsribn @savemebrazilhinata @geektastic84 @dailyakira @cupidsblonde @dazqa @lialia3945 @yxcntruu @baylz @deluluforcarlos55 @sleepystrwbrryy @winniethepooh-lover @miiola @scxrcherr @moonlightjade @superboywife @madiexuberant @alexithemiyatic @evening-latte @kiyoramen @acowboykisser @mayharrison500 @osaammuu @uhsakusa @renardiererin @cheriisae @honeyfewr @nazwrites-2002 @jadeoru @asrinchin

#nervous abt this one tbh #it’s meant to be very dreamlike and floaty but idk if that’s coming across so im hiding in the tags #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #hq #sakusa kiyoomi x reader fanfiction #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi

61 notes · View notes

diazsdimples · 7 months ago

Text

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

I'm getting to everyone's snippets tonight, I promise! I'm a few days behind cause lectures have just started up again 😬 tagged for Tuesday by @thewolvesof1998 and @elvensorceress thank you friends 🫶. Also I'm updating my taglist for the first time ever so please interact with this post if you want to be on it!

Figured I should probably get cracking on my 7x06 spec fic before the episode comes out so please enjoy a bit of Buck getting roasted by his best friend and boyfriend.

Eddie frowns, looking a little confused. “I thought you guys were all good?” “We are,” Buck replies, his eyes never leaving his parents as he watches them greet guests, both looking the brightest and bubbliest he’s seen them in years. From afar he’s sure they look like a regular, happy older couple enjoying their daughter’s wedding, but Buck can’t hide the way seeing them still makes his gut twist uncomfortably. Tommy snorts beside him, bringing him back to reality. “Except Evan decided it was a good idea not to mention me until today” Eddie does a little double take, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. “Wait, you haven’t told them yet?” “I’m gonna go find Denny,” Christopher announces, bored of listening to the adults. “Is that okay, Dad?” “Yeah, of course bud. See you in a bit,” Eddie says, ruffling Christopher’s hair. The three of them watch as he shoots off, making his way towards Hen, Karen and Denny as fast as his legs can carry him. When he’s safely out of earshot, Eddie rounds on Buck again, fixing him with an incredulous look. “Seriously, Buck, in what world did you think springing this on them today was a good idea?” “That’s what I said!” Tommy says, flicking Buck a smirk as he squeezes his side. “Hey, you’re meant to be on my side!” Buck protests, elbowing Tommy in the ribs, but it’s all forgiven when Tommy brushes a light kiss against Buck’s temple. “And I didn’t want to tell them in person, I thought doing it like this would be… easier,” Buck finishes lamely, aware of how delusional he’s sounding. “Uh huh, cause telling your parents big, life changing things has always been easy in person hasn’t it,” Eddie deadpans, crossing his arms over his chest and raising his eyebrow at Buck in a way that screams you’re an idiot and you know it. “Listen, I wasn’t exactly thinking -” “Clearly,” Tommy and Eddie say in unison, turning to one another with shit-eating grins as Buck gives them both a flat look, before continuing. “- but, I didn’t want them to gripe at me and say they would have rather heard it face to face than from behind a phone.” “I think they probably would have had a go at you either way, honestly,” Eddie says with a sympathetic shrug, and he reaches over to squeeze Buck’s shoulder. Buck sighs and burrows closer into Tommy’s side, resting his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Tommy runs his hand down Buck’s spine, rubbing at each spinous process as he encourages Buck to relax. Buck softens a little, biting back a whine as Tommy nuzzles his nose against Buck’s hairline. “You’re probably right,” he admits with a sigh. He’d really wanted nothing more than to heal his relationship with his parents but turns out it takes more than a little lightning strike and some shitty therapy sessions to mend years of trauma.

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @bidisasterevankinard @neverevan

@babybibuck @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @daffi-990

@jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @wikiangela @bibuckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon

@cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @nmcggg

@alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @weewootruck @rainbow-nerdss @kitteneddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs

@smilingbuckley @actuallyitsellie @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz @thekristen999

@loveyouanyway (Remember to interact with this post if you want to be on my taglist and lmk if you want to be removed)

#james writes #7x06 spec fic #bucktommy wedding fic #bucktommy #bucktommy wip #tevan #kinkley #tuck #911 abc #evan buckley #buddie #eddie diaz #911 buddie #911 fanfic #911

140 notes · View notes

cottoncandy-cult · 1 year ago

Text

Bed Time Snack

Saiki Kusuo X Wife! Reader

(Y/n) smiled as she moved about in the kitchen, her husband would be home from work soon. She had already finished making dinner, now she was working on desert. He had flourished a bit after high school, he wasn't a social butterfly, but he wasn't hiding in bathrooms to escape people neither. The (H/c) haired girl had taken to making him deserts each night as a sort of reward for everything he's done and been through, she knew of his abilities because of an accident on their 3rd date and she had promised not to tell anyone. From there the relationship became a bit easier, being the only one outside of a few of his family members who knew meant she often allowed him to vent out frustrations and tell her of his past. Granted that took a lot of time and trust building, at first, he thought he would be burdening her. It wasn't until she turned it on him and told him she simply wouldn't tell him when anything was going on with her then, it irked him a little at first, but he began to relax a little after the first couple vents.

Now here they were, 5 years into marriage and living in their own little home in the city near his parent's place. Thing's weren't always easy, but she was prepared for that, all she needed was her husband. That thought gave her smile as she finished preparing the coffee jelly and popped it in the fridge to cool, it was then that she heard the click of the front door. By the time she rounded the corner to enter the living room the pink haired male was already removing his shoes near the front door, with a soft smile she approached him and kissed his cheek. Making him pause in his motions and hang his head to try and hide his blush, he never did get used to her open affection and she adored seeing his cute face tint pink each time she made her love obvious. "Welcome home love." These were her soft-spoken words; it was when he stood straight and smiled to her that she hugged him tightly and earned one of his near silent chuckles. "I'm glad to be home..." His warm words drifted like a feather through her mind, he still didn't verbally talk all that much, but she didn't mind. "Come on. dinner is already done, and desert is chilling in the fridge. Go get washed up, I put your comfy clothes on the end of the bed." With a soft giggle she had gently rested her palm on his cheek, her own blush showing itself when he leaned into her palm and stared at her with a feather light gaze. "Thank you dear..." He had leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss to the tip of her nose, his sudden affection through her brain in a whirl wind as her face went crimson. She barely heard his chuckle before he went to their shared room, meanwhile it took a moment to gather herself before she went to make their plates on set up the table. All the while trying not to fangirl, her husband was just too precious.

She had just sat at the table in front of her plate when he came back, a pair of grey sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt covered him now. He took his place beside her and the two began to eat in silence, it was comfortable, and it gave both a chance to unwind together after their day. Of course, once dinner had been finished and each had cleaned their dishes they retired to their room, (Y/n) was the first to crawl in bed as she had already put on her night clothes when she got back home from running errands. Of course, her dear husband wasn't too far behind, he reclined back against his pillow and got out his usual bedtime book. The loving girl took the chance to snuggle into his side and lay head on his chest, he had quietly wrapped his arm around her and rested his hand against her ribs while his thumb rubbed gentle circles into the slightly exposed skin from where her shirt had raised. "So how was work love? Is that lunatic still being a handful?" Her words had made the male outright chuckle, as sweet as she could be he sometimes forgot she knew negative words. "It was ok, and Hanma was a bit out there. But he wasn't as bad as he usually was..." He could see her nodding her head to his words, her body relaxing against his as she yawned. "That's good, maybe he'll settle down once he's been there for a bit." (E/c) eyes began to slow blink; she hadn't realized she was tired until she had gotten settled. Then it hit her. "Fuck the dessert!" Her loud proclamation made the male jolt and almost drop his book, he could have sworn she was seconds away from dozing off.

"I don't mean to kink shame but please don't love, tonight's a bad night for such adventures." His words had made the girl choke on her laughter, she knew he understood what she meant and usually she didn't swear but she had made that jelly because she knew it was his favorite and yet she had forgotten about it. Sitting up some she leaned on her elbow, her head falling against his shoulder. "Sorry dear, I made some coffee jelly, but I forgot all about it. It should be set by now if you want to go ahead and get some to eat while you read." By the time she finished her sentence the male was already happily slipping out of the room to make a B-line for the fridge, she couldn't help but laugh at how he could go from being so mature to childlike just with the mention of sweets. But that was one thing she loved about him, he was unique and full of quirks. It was never boring as the wife of Saiki Kusuo.

By the time the male had returned with a small bowl of coffee jelly and a spoon his wife had been out cold, head on his pillow as she lie at an odd angle. The sight made the man smile and he couldn't resist taking another secret picture of his wife. He had a collection of pictures from moments where his wife was being so unbearably cute, he liked to look at them on his bad days or even just flip through them at work whenever he had begun to miss her. He doesn't know when exactly it happened, but at some point, she had managed to wrap him around her finger, and she didn't even seem to notice. He put his phone away after taking the picture and sat his jelly on the nightstand under his still lit lamp, and as gentle as possible he shifted his wife over so he could settle back in. Of course, he made sure to place her against his side once more, smiling as he felt her curl into him as he began to eat his jelly. This was one of his favorite parts of the day, just getting to hold his heart close to him without worry or stress.

#fluff #x reader #fem reader #wife reader #the disastrous life of saiki k.#saiki k #saiki kusuo #candy cult vault #Saiki Kusuo x reader #Saiki Kusuo x Wife reader

230 notes · View notes

q1ngqve · 6 months ago

Note

hello! I like your fics, can u do Mikhail smut? 🥹 that npc man is making me feel things a gurl shouldn’t. Any for, is fine, be it from the LC’s Tomorrow’s Journey or the old form ♥️🥺

🪷🫧💭 — sorry if it’s ooc… i tried (also requests are closed!)

CW; sex. no other warnings 😜ྀིྀིྀིྀིྀི

"do we really have to?"

you shoot him a glare as you adjust your necklace, the jewelry shiny and cool against your skin. "yes, because you reserved it." a tiny yelp escapes you at the sudden warmth on your nape, making your hair stand on end as you elbow him in the ribs.

he chuckles at your reaction to him appearing behind you without warning before parting your hair to one side and plants soft kisses on your skin.

"do you have to wear this specific dress then?" his arms snake around your waist, "you know it's my favorite." mikhail takes a step back as you remove his arms, spinning around to face him and draping your arms on his shoulders.

the corners of your lips curve into a soft smile as you lean closer, pecking a kiss onto his lips, staining them light red with your lip-gloss.

"I guess you'll have to wait till we come back," you shrug, "I don't wanna waste all the effort on doing my makeup."

his smile matches your own as his hands roam to the small of your back and nape, pulling you closer. "a quick one?" your eyes narrow at the feeling of his bulge against your stomach. "please?"

"fine."

"you're so good to me, my love."

his lips come fervently, sucking all the air from your lungs, desperate to taste and feel you. he walks you backward, hands and mouth never leaving you until you hit the wall with a thud. you push at his shoulders, trying to get him to release you so you can get some air.

soft gasps fill the air as he pulls away, his hands continuing with their ministrations. while you try to catch your breath, he already has your dress bunched up and you held up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist.

"mikhail— need you..."

his kiss comes again, harsher this time, as he undoes his belt, muttering an "mhmm" into your mouth. a soft hit lands on his shoulders at your disapproval when the sound of lingerie tearing fills the air. "we'll get you a new one."

your arms wrap tighter around him, gripping on for dear life, knowing how hard he goes when he's in a rush. whimpers of his name spill from your puffy lips as he nibbles on them, thrusting into you at the same time. the stretch has your back arching and legs tensing, and you hear him chuckle.

"love, you gotta relax—" mikhail hisses as his free hand slides between you two and draws circles on your clit. "you're so fucking tight."

deep grunts sound from the man before you as he finally bottoms out. he manages to pull another yelp from you as he pulls back and thrusts back in almost immediately, not giving you the time to adjust.

"wait— slow down!"

his chest reverberates as he laughs. "slow down? you told me to be quick, did you not?"

your head falls on his shoulder as you hang limp in his arms, body tensing at each rub of his tip on your gummy walls. you find yourself coming undone too quickly in this position, especially with him coaxing you on with each drive of his hips.

mikhail plants another kiss on your lips as you start shuddering and clenching against him, body tensing up at the knot building in your lower stomach. goosebumps litter your skin as he kisses down your neck, the warmth of his pants and groans urging your impending orgasm.

under the influence of his soft "cum for me"s in your ear, you cum with loud whines of his name, nails digging into his suit for support. he doesn't stop his movements, guiding you down from your orgasm as he reaches his own.

warm spurts fill your insides as he holds you up, hugging you close as you both ride out the high. when he senses you've relaxed, he sets you down and cups your face, kissing your blood-flushed lips gentler this time.

you lean against him as he smooths down your dress, a bright smile on his face as he holds out his hand.

"shall we go then, my love?"

#🀥 lan’s writings!#mikhail hsr #hsr #hsr smut #honkai star rail #mikhail x reader #mikhail hsr x reader #mikhail hsr smut

114 notes · View notes

gilverrwrites · 8 months ago

Note

Hiiii could you do a forbidden hero x villain romance of captain boomerang and reader? Thank you in advance 🙃

No Use Mending Bridges

Captain Boomerang/Reader, 2.7K words

He'd been everything to you then. Now he was a crumpled mess, laying broken and battered on your couch. Rated: M

Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Request Info

CW: Mentions of blood and violence , swearing, angst, arguing, unhealthy relationship dynamics, betrayal, lying.

Please know: I think you are absolutely wonderful!

The view through your peephole is distorted; it makes his head look bulbous and alien-like, but despite the skewed image and years of no-contact, he’s still immediately recognisable. Fully prepared to tell him to take a hike unless he wants a free ride to the police station, you swing the door open only to be halted by the unobscured sight of him. His coat and gloves were torn and bloodied, one hand clutched to his ribs, the other supporting his weight on your door frame.

“Hey, stranger.” He splutters between bloody coughs. His face twitches in pain at each syllable. There’s a cluster of nasty reddish-purple bruises forming around the left side of his face, and he appears to have lost another tooth.

“What the fuck George?!” Confirming the coast is clear with a quick scan of the hallway, you herd his limping form into the apartment, where he unceremoniously spreads across the couch. “What the hell did you do? Why even come here?”

“I didn’t do nothin’.” His speech is slurred, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s drunk, injured, or both. “I had nowhere else to go.”

“Just stay still.” You instruct as you begin rummaging, looking for your first-aid kit; it must be somewhere here. “And don’t touch anything!”

By the time you locate what you’re looking for and return to his side, George is unconscious. His pupils constrict as expected when you shine a light on them. Moderately happy that he’s not concussed you allow him to sleep as you clean him up, disturbing him only to remove his coats and boots.

By the time you’re done patching him up, it's late into the night. You don’t really want to leave him alone… because he might steal something, not because you’re worried about him. But because you’re exhausted. Resolving to leave him alone for a few hours, you pack up your kit and head to the kitchen to grab him a glass of water and some painkillers.

When you return, he’s awake, barely. Bleary reddened eyes watch you in silence as you place the glass and pills on your coffee table.

“Can you talk?” You ask.

“Oh yeeeeeaaahhhhh.” His speech seems worse now than when he’d arrived. “Ripperrrr.”

He must have really got his shit rocked. Or gotten really pissed before getting his shit rocked. You wait for him to say something more, to thank you for taking him in and fixing him up. He sits there watching you back, threading his tongue between the new gap in his teeth. As more and more time passes it becomes increasingly apparent that he has nothing to say to you. Ungrateful bastard.

Although it shouldn’t surprise you, really. Years ago, when you’d been an item, you’d patched him up plenty of times, bailed him out of prison, even gotten into fights for him, and he’d never thanked you then, either. It was always someone else’s fault, someone else’s burden. He was a martyr, and you’d believed him, every time. Right up until you’d caught him red handed, fist full of stolen cash in the middle of Central City National Bank’s vault. Although every fibre of your being wanted to hear him out, to forgive him, and take him home, you knew then and there that there was no coming back from this moment.

He knew who you were and the things you stood for, and he’s barefaced lied to you, going behind your back, living a double life as a criminal.

Shaking with anger, humiliation, and heartache, you did your best to shut him out as you hauled his ass down to the CCPD, swearing never to look back. And you didn’t; you never looked up his record, never googled his name, never asked your mutual friends about him. However, that didn’t stop you from hoping for a card in the mail every holiday, or scrolling through your camera roll with a tub of cookie dough whenever you thought about him too much or turning down every offer at a date with literally one else.

He'd been everything to you then. Now he was a crumpled mess, laying broken and battered on your couch.

“Who did this to you?” You ask, maybe because you want to hear his excuse, or maybe because you really want to know who is responsible.

“Why? You gonna arrest 'em?” Between the swollen face and the way he keeps lolling his tongue around, it's difficult to make out an emotion until he follows up with what is clearly intended as bitter sarcasm: “Myyyy hero!”

You have mixed emotions. You almost want to be proud of him for not immediately giving you a name and for feeding you a story about some guy who totally started it, but really, you knew it wasn’t that. He’d probably deserved it, probably been caught with his hands in the proverbial cookie jar by a hero bigger and stronger than you, with less emotional attachment. Or maybe he’s just intentionally being a dick, still mad at you for putting him behind bars.

“I don’t arrest people, George.” You take a deep breath, determined to sound professional. “But if needs be, I will turn them in to the police.”

“Don’t ya know; Snitches get stitches.” The more he refuses to tell you, the hotter your blood runs.

How dare he turn up here, asking for your help, then refuse to let you do your job. You’d had every right to turn him away, but you hadn’t. The least he could do was tell you why he’d darkened your doorway.

“You were a mess. You are a mess, and you know it, or else you wouldn’t have come here.” Your composure is slipping, each word growing louder and more agitated than the last. You care far more than you should, and you know it, that is the problem. “Whoever did this to you must be held accountable for their actions.”

“’Must be held accountable for their actions’, blah, blah, blah. Do they teach ya all that fancy talk at crime fighting 101 or whatever it is you do?” All the colour drains from his face as he watches your reaction, the way your face twists with anger. Instant regret. “Alright, alright, am sorry. That was uncalled for. I just… can we talk about it in the mornin’?”

“Will you still be here in the morning?”

Caught in a half lie, George falls silent, turning his head to avoid your gaze. All that red-hot rage leaves your body, replaced with a similar emptiness that settles in your chest. You’d barely gotten him out of your system when he’d turned up, and now he was practically gone already. It was for the best, really. No use mending bridges and making up with him; it would do neither of your reputations any good.

“Right. I’m going to bed. Goodnight George.” You’re gone before he can respond.

The creak of footsteps against hardwood flooring stirs you from half-sleep. For a thief, he’s awful at keeping quiet. The smart thing to do would be to check on him. He was probably halfway out of a window with his pockets full of valuables, but whatever he’d taken would be a small price to pay to not have to look at him one more time.

Light from the hallway peeped into the room, not bright enough to blind you, but enough to put you on alert to the door opening. Confused and on edge, you dart up, finding George stood at the end of the bed. He’d removed his shirt and jeans, exposing some minor cuts and bruises that you’d missed, and leaving him in nothing but his briefs. A sorry sight for sore eyes.

“Forgot how uncomfortable the couch is.” He informs you nonchalantly.

“You picked it, ‘didn’t wanna pay more than $50 on a doghouse’.” You did you best to imitate his accent, earning you a laugh. The sound was strange, you hadn’t realised you’d forgotten it until you heard it again.

“Can I?” he gestures to you, to the bed.

“How bashed up is your head? Hell no.” You pull the sheets tighter around yourself.

“Oh, come on, ya said it yourself am a mess, an’ that lumpy old thing ain’t exactly helping.” The way he waves his arms around must hurt, must be agitating his wounds, and pulling his bandages loose, but the movements are so familiar, so quintessentially him, that you can’t help but smile. Clearly knowing he’s found a weak spot, he comes closer, dropping to his knees, elbows on the bed, head cradled in his hands as he bats exaggeratedly large eyes at you. “Technically, it’s our bed anyway, so… Please?”

“Fine.” He’s pulling the sheets back before you’ve even finished. Wriggling his ass against the mattress, batting the pillows into place, too late to take it back now.

“Is that my pillow?” He asks, pointing to your side of the bed.

Originally, you’d taken it because the smell reminded you of him, but it had been such a long time. It no longer smelled of him, and you could claim that you don’t remember. “Not anymore.”

“’Fine.’” He mimics you for the second time that night, probably payback for your atrocious attempt at Australian earlier.

Awkward silence befalls the room. It’s not as bad as it had been downstairs, not as hostile, but the tension is still thick. When you’d patched him up earlier, the air had been pungent with blood and steriliser. Now though, he filled the bed with a familiar spicy musk that made you more comfortable than you’d anticipated. You wondered if you’ll wash the sheets right after he’s gone, or if you’ll be swapping the pillows around once more.

You risk a peek at him, curious if he still the same up-close, all scruff and rough and homey. His green eyes are already staring back at you. Caught out, you refuse to shy away, allowing him to watch you watch him. He’s leaner now, and you note a few tattoos you don’t recognise across his upper arm and chest.

As the minutes pass, the tension simmers. It’s almost peaceful, being so close again. It all feels so intimate, so easy, at least until he says the dumbest thing you’ve heard all day.

“What happened to us, aye?”

“What happened? You lied to me, for basically all of our relationship. You humiliated me.” Once it started coming out, it didn’t stop. Unconsciously, you sit up straight, keeping your distance as you continue to rant. “You can’t just talk your way back in here and pretend like it didn’t happen. I trusted you, and you made a fool out of me.”

“Hold on now, it’s not like that.” He remains calm, still laying back in the bed, amused by your sudden outburst. His laid-back attitude had been so charming when you’d fallen for him. Now it pissed you off.

“Then what is it like, George?” His brows don’t furrow until you reach the end of the sentence.

“Stop it.” He finally sits up, hunched to ensure eye contact. “Stop calling me that!”

Even during the worst spells of your relationship, he’s never eyed you so intensely, not in this context, at least. Back then, it might have scared you, but now you were relieved to see some real emotion from him, even if he’s picking at a scab you don’t want touched. You know exactly what he’s getting at, but you don’t want to address it, so you repeat your earlier question. “What is it like?”

“You’ve never called me George before today.” He rebuffs your question again, zeroing in on his own issue. He’d never liked his birthname, so you’d never used it—not until you’d needed a way to distance yourself from him.

“George never broke my heart.” Your voice is a whisper but he’s close enough to hear it. He gulps, his Adam's apple bobbing as he mulls over your words. Every second is like torture until you put a stop to it. You grab his pillow from the bed as you stand. “This was a mistake. Take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Please don’t.” Calloused fingers wrap around your arm, not hard enough to bruise but firm enough to keep their grip as you’re tugged back onto the bed. “I’m sorry for what I did, for all of it—the fights, the stealin’. And I’m sorry I didn’t say sorry sooner.”

Those same strong fingers drag along your arms, attempting to offer comfort. Unable to muster the resolve to fight it, you let him pull you deeper onto the bed, encasing you in an embrace that is both unwelcome and wanted.

“Do you think there’s a way we can fix us?” He asks, voice cracked. He draws closer, nestling into the nook of your neck as he awaits your response.

You’ve laid awake in this very spot missing him for such a long time. Praying that one day, this exact moment might happen, but there are things you have to be certain of first. “Are you just saying all this to get laid?”

There is hesitation that briefly fills you with dread before he replies carefully. “No.”

“Will you give it all up?” You cup his cheeks, pulling him up until you’re face to face, where you can watch his reaction. You’re both so close, so ready to fold, but you can’t give up your morals, so maybe you can convince him to change. “The whole rogue thing? Will you quit?”

“Darlin’… Loving you has nothing to do with -”

You interrupt him with a kiss, a desperate attempt to change his mind before he commits to his statement. He tastes like copper and malt. Blood and beer. It reminds you of every kiss you’d shared before now. You shove your tongue inside his mouth, craving more, and he shudders in response.

When you pull away, he watches you with a dazed expression, scabbed lips pulled into a dreamy smile.

“That was ace.” Your foreheads press together, and he closes his eyes, thinking, preserving, you’re not sure, but his smile gradually falters. “But would ya do that in front of the bonze?”

“I would.” It’s an instant response, but once it leaves your mouth you know there’s a stipulation. “If you reformed.”

“We’re just goin’ around in bloody circles.” He releases you, hands thrown in the air as he falling back against the bed with a frustrated grunt. A giggle escapes your lips at the sight, but once he’s settled, you start to miss the warmth of his body with a force you hadn’t felt since the night of your breakup.

Unwilling to let the moment go just yet, you encroach his side of the bed, resting your head on his chest. He signals his approval by stroking his hand against your back.

“We’re supposed to be enemies, you know?” You’re talking to him but don’t have the strength to move in a way that allows you to look at his face. “I should hate you, why can’t I hate you?”

“Well, it’s pretty obvious why.” He gives your shoulder a playful nudge. “Am just lovable.”

He laughs at his joke, wholeheartedly. You laugh, humouring his attempt to lighten the mood.

When the laughter dries up, you lay together in silence yet again, so many pauses, both of you so uncertain how to move forward. The beat of his heart thumping beneath your ears is the only sound you can make out.

“I just gotta pull one last job.” He cuts through the quiet.

“What is it?” You make the effort to angle your head upwards, but he halts you by placing his hand on the top of your head.

“Can’t tell ya.” He taps his fingers against your head the way he would a table, one fingertip at a time. It’s a nervous tick he’d picked up a long time ago. “Nothin’ personal, just don’t want ya tryna’ stop me.”

Could you call yourself a hero if you let him do whatever he was planning? If you didn’t take preventative measures, or hold him responsible for yet another crime?

“Digger, please don’t make me regret this.”

When you wake the next morning, the space beside you is empty and cold. The wrinkled outline of his body in the sheets serve as the only proof that anyone had been there the night before. No noises rung through the flat, no footsteps, no echo from the TV, no running water. Fighting through morning fuzziness you stumble out of your bedroom, searching for your missing bedfellow, only to find an open window and an empty wallet.

#captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang imagine #george digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang #digger harkness x reader #digger harkness #ssktjl #suicide squad kill the justice league #gilverrwrites

119 notes · View notes