#Dried Up Tied and Dead to the World | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rottenfyre · 19 days ago

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⸻ ᴊ ᴀ ʏ ʙ ɪ ʀ ᴅ ⸻

“ The Broken Mask: A Name to Remember ”

Pairing: Dark Jason Todd x Fem Reader Part 3

Summary: After waking up, you found yourself in a dark and dirty room. Tied up without a way out. And there's him who kidnapped you...

Warnings: Physical violence, Child abuse, Psychological trauma.

Note: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

The stench of blood and decay filled the air, suffocating her. It clung to her skin, her hair, and every breath she took. She woke with a sharp gasp, her body screaming in pain, every muscle twisted and strained. She couldn’t move her hands or legs—tied down, the coarse ropes cutting into her skin. Her wrists burned as she tried to twist them free, but the bindings only dug deeper. The metallic taste of blood lingered in her mouth.

Her vision swam, the room around her blurry at first, but as her eyes adjusted, she took in the nightmare she was trapped in. The room was small, the walls stained with streaks of dried blood and rust. The air was thick, heavy with the scent of death, and the dim light above flickered weakly, casting eerie shadows across the walls. Her heart raced as the reality of her situation sank in.

Where am I? What happened?

Memories flashed back—rain, green eyes, a sharp pain. She’d been in her house. And then...

The door creaked open, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the silence. She flinched, her breath catching in her throat. A figure stepped into the room, and her stomach turned. He was tall, his frame imposing, clad in a leather jacket that seemed worn from years of use. His face was hidden beneath a red helmet, the visor reflecting the dim light, making him look more monster than man.

In his hand, he casually twisted a knife, the blade catching the light as it spun.

It’s just a dream, she told herself. It has to be. It can’t be real. It’s just a nightmare.

Her eyes squeezed shut tightly, as if that could force the nightmare to end, as if closing them would make it all disappear. She needed to wake up.

Please… please just wake up.

But then, she heard it. A voice—too familiar, too close—cut through the fog of her delirium.

“Jaybird…”

Her heart stopped.

“Jaybird, Jaybird, Jaybird,”

It couldn’t be. No. No, there’s no way. There’s no way it’s him. He’s dead. He has to be. He can’t be here.

She shook her head violently, trying to shake the word out of her mind. It was a hallucination. It had to be. She hadn’t taken her pills. Her therapist had warned her about this. The voices, the dreams, the confusion—it’s just the pills.

Jason's dead. He’s dead.

"Well, look who’s awake," he said, his voice low and mocking. He leaned against the wall, tilting his head as if observing her. "Sleeping beauty finally graces us with her presence."

She squeezed her eyes shut harder, trying to shut out the world, trying to shut out him.

"Oh, don’t be shy," he continued, pushing off the wall and taking slow, deliberate steps toward her. His boots echoed with each step. "What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He crouched in front of her, tilting his head like a predator sizing up its prey.

She didn’t respond, keeping her head down. Her breath was shallow, her pulse hammering in her ears. She bit her lip hard, her breath hitching. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t think.

It’s just a dream. It’s just a nightmare.

“C’mon. Say something... Anything.” he said, dragging out the words.

“Why don’t you look at me, sweetheart?” He was taunting her now. A sickening, twisted laugh bubbled up from his throat, sharp like broken glass. “I know you want to princess.”

Her blood ran cold. Her chest tightened, suffocating her, every inch of her body screaming in terror.

No, no, no. She couldn’t be hearing this. It couldn’t be real. She wasn’t strong enough to face him—him.

Jason was dead. He was gone.

But… this voice? It was his. His voice… twisted, broken, yet unmistakable. It was Jason. But it couldn’t be. Not like this.

He straightened suddenly, his tone shifting to one of mock enthusiasm. "How about we get to know each other better, huh? What do you say?"

Her head remained bowed, her tears threatening to spill.

He crouched again, his voice darker now, more menacing. "Look at me princess."

When she didn’t move, his tone snapped like a whip. "I said, fucking look at me."

She didn’t look at him. She couldn’t. She kept her face down, eyes squeezed shut.

It’s not real. It’s not real. He’s dead. He’s gone. This is just my mind playing tricks on me. This is my fault. I forgot to take my pills. That’s it. That’s all it is. I’m crazy. I’m going insane.

“Fine.” His tone shifted, sharp and biting. “Let’s play it your way.”

He straightened, the knife twirling in his hand again. “Who are you? Tell me your name,” he asked, the question laced with venom.

She didn’t respond.

“I said—” His voice boomed as he slammed the chair’s armrest with the butt of the knife, making her flinch. “Who the fuck are you?”

Still, she said nothing.

The slap came hard and fast, the force whipping her head to the side. Her cheek burned, and she tasted copper as her lip split against her teeth.

“Say it!” he barked, his voice a dangerous snarl.

“Y/N,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He stepped back, clapping his hands slowly, mockingly. “There it is. Good girl.”

“Now,” he said, crouching again, his tone shifting into something almost playful. “Do you know who I am?”

Her heart pounded in her chest, the blood rushing in her ears. She nodded slowly, her throat closing up as she whispered, “No.”

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. And then—

Stab.

The pain was blinding.

She gasped, her whole body convulsing as the knife dug into her hand. She screamed, her back arching against the chair as the metal sliced through her flesh. Her eyes watered, tears streaming down her face as she cried out in agony.

“Wrong answer.” His voice was dripping with venom as he twisted the knife, pushing it deeper into her skin. The world around her spun in dizzying circles. “You don’t get to lie to me.”

The tears poured down her face, each sob racking her body as the knife tore through her palm. The burning pain was too much. She was going to pass out. She was sure of it.

But the pain wouldn’t stop.

He yanked her hair back, his fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her face up to meet his. “Now, tell me again, what's my name?”

“J–Jason...” The word was barely a whisper, escaping her lips without her consent.

“Who?” He mocked, his voice a sickening blend of sweetness and malice. “Say it louder, sweetheart.”

Her mind was unraveling. No, no, no, no. She could barely breathe through the tears, through the overwhelming agony, but somehow, her voice broke through the fog.

“Jason!” she cried, her voice hoarse, desperate.

“Good girl.” His smile was audible, twisted and cruel, as if he reveled in her pain.

She trembled, her hand still bleeding, the pain a constant, raw fire in her veins. She could feel the warmth of the blood pooling beneath her, slick and hot against her skin.

“Oh, but look at you,” he said, his tone light, almost playful. “Look at that hand. We can’t just leave that, can we?”

No, no, please, no more.

The room spun around her as he moved, as he crouched in front of her with a sickening gleam in his eyes. She looked down at her hand, still bleeding, the crimson liquid dripping onto the floor.

What is he going to do?

He stood suddenly, his movements jerky and manic as he raised his hand to his chin, pretending to think. “I don’t think I have any bandages. What should we do, princess? Hm?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block him out. The world was closing in on her.

Then, his voice dropped, as if struck by an idea.

“I’ve got it!” He laughed, a wild, unhinged sound that made her skin crawl. “We’ll just have to burn it shut! That should work, right? That’ll stop the bleeding. I learn that from him.”

“No… no, please!” Her body jerked violently as she tried to back away, to get away from him, but the ropes held her fast. “No! No, please, Jason, no!”

He smiled, his eyes lighting up with sick joy as he pulled something from his belt—a lighter. She didn’t have time to scream before he pressed the heat to her hand.

The pain was unbearable.

It was like her hand was being set on fire, the flesh searing as she screamed. Her body spasmed in agony, the heat radiating through her entire arm. Her vision swam, her body trembling as she pulled against the ropes, trying to escape, trying to pull away from the suffocating burn.

“No! NO! NO! NO!” She couldn’t stop screaming. “JASON, PLEASE!”

He held the flame there, the fire licking at her skin, and she felt herself slipping, her mind fracturing.

This can’t be real. This can’t be happening. It’s just a dream. It’s just a nightmare. He’s dead. He’s dead.

“Shhh,” he whispered, his voice soft and sickeningly sweet. “It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just a little more, and we’ll be done.”

But the fire burned through her mind, through her heart, and the last thing she could think of before the pain swallowed her whole was the sick, twisted laugh that echoed in her ears.

She hated the smell of him, the acrid stench of liquor mixed with sweat, burning through the walls of their small, suffocating apartment. His voice, thick with slurred words, called to her from the darkened hallway.

“Y/N… Y/N, get in here, you useless girl.”

She froze, her small body trembling as her heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t want to go to him. She didn’t want to face him—never again, never ever again. But she knew better. If she didn’t obey, it would only get worse. The bruises would last longer. The sharp, angry look in his eyes would linger until he got what he wanted.

She shuffled toward the kitchen, her bare feet cold against the cracked tiles. The apartment was always cold, like a morgue. The lights flickered, casting eerie shadows as she stepped into the small, dim room where her father sat slouched over the kitchen table. His face was flushed, eyes dull and red from too many drinks. The half-empty bottle of whiskey sat next to him, the amber liquid swirling like poison in the dim light.

He didn’t look at her at first. He just muttered something under his breath, too drunk to focus. Then, without a word, he reached over to the table, his hand shaking slightly as he grabbed the cigarette pack. He lit one, the ember glowing briefly before the thick smoke filled the air.

“Push your sleeve up,” he rasped, not looking at her. His voice had a hollow, empty ring to it, like he was talking to a ghost. A sickening feeling twisted in her stomach. She didn’t want to do it. She never wanted to do it. But she knew if she didn’t, he’d hurt her worse.

“But it hurts daddy...”

“That's the point you dumb girl.”

She shook, her tiny fingers fumbling with the sleeve of her worn shirt. She hated him. She hated the way he made her feel small, insignificant, as if she was nothing but an object to be used, abused. But she pushed her sleeve up, the cool air against her skin sending a shiver through her body.

He flicked the cigarette, and the red-hot ember hovered close to her skin. She felt the sharp, searing heat before she even saw it. The first press made her gasp, her arm jerking involuntarily as the pain seared through her like fire. He didn’t stop. He didn’t care. He pressed harder, digging the burning tip into her skin, his laugh low and raspy as she cried out in pain.

She hated him. She hated him more than anything in the world. And she cried—quietly, trying to hide it from him—but she cried because it was the only thing her body knew how to do. She wanted to scream, wanted to yell at him, to say all the horrible things she felt deep down, but she knew better. It would make him worse. It would make him hurt her more.

I hate you. I hate you. I wish you would die…

The room was quiet, save for the crackling neon sign outside the grimy window, its light flickering red against the concrete walls. The silence wasn’t comforting—it was suffocating, a prelude to something worse.

Her breath uneven as she stared at him. Jason loomed over her like a shadow, his presence thick with menace. His helmet sat discarded on a nearby table, revealing a face hardened by trauma and vengeance.

“You’re new to all of this,” he said, his voice low and measured. There was something mocking in his tone, something almost tender, if tenderness could be laced with poison. “So, we’ll start simple.”

Her eyes widened as he crouched down in front of her, close enough that she could see the faint scar along his cheek, something like a name.

Her name...

He reached into his jacket and pulled out a knife, the blade catching the dim light in a way that made her stomach churn.

Her lips trembled. “No… please, no… don't kill me please...”

Jason’s head tilted, his expression almost curious. “What? You think I’m going to kill you?” He laughed, a bitter sound that echoed in the small room. “If I wanted you dead, sweetheart, you’d already be in the ground.”

Relief flickered in her chest, but it was short-lived.

“No, I’m not that cruel,” he continued, his tone almost gentle. “I’m not like him. I’m not the Joker. I don’t take without asking. See, I’m giving you a choice.”

Her breath hitched.

“I’ll mark you,” he said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “But I’ll let you decide. Should I use the knife? Or maybe…” He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking it open. The small flame danced in his hand, casting flickering shadows on his face. “…I could burn it in your pretty little face. My name. Right here.” He pointed to her cheek, just under her eye.

The way he said it—so casual, so matter-of-fact—made her stomach twist into knots.

Her head shook violently, tears streaming down her face. “Please, don’t… don’t do this… please…”

His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "Oh, come on. I’m being nice. Joker didn’t ask me what I wanted, now, did he?"

She shook her head again, her sobs growing louder as she begged, "Please, Jason, just let me go! I-I’ll do anything!"

His eyes darkened, irritation flashing across his features. “You’re not answering.”

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please just let me go…”

His jaw tightened, and his patience snapped like a brittle thread. He lunged forward, gripping her chin with bruising force, his fingers digging into her flesh.

"You’re wasting my time," he growled, slapping her hard across the face when she tried to turn away. Pain blossomed on her cheek, sharp and searing, and she cried out.

"Fine. I’ll choose for you."

Her cry echoed in the room, but it didn’t stop him. His fingers gripped her chin, forcing her face upward. “Hold still,” he hissed, his voice cold. “If you don’t, I’ll mess it up. And trust me, you don’t want that.”

She thrashed weakly, but his grip was unyielding. The blade hovered near her skin, its cold edge biting into her cheek as he positioned it just below her eye. Her sobs turned into desperate, panicked pleas, her voice cracking under the weight of her fear.

“Shut up,” he growled, his tone sharp enough to cut. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.”

Her heart pounded, terror screaming through her veins like wildfire. She squeezed her eyes shut, trembling uncontrollably.

And then the blade bit into her skin.

At first, it was a sharp, stinging pain, but it quickly bloomed into something far worse—searing, unbearable agony that made her throat raw from screaming.

Her vision blurred with tears, and she clawed weakly at his wrist, her nails scraping against the leather of his glove.

"Stop! Please, Jason! Stop!" she sobbed, her voice breaking with desperation.

He didn’t.

The knife carved deeper, deliberate and precise, dragging slowly across her flesh. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, and she felt it trickling down her cheek, warm and sticky.

Her mind fractured under the weight of the pain. Memories flashed—happier times, the moments where he had promised he will always protect her. They felt like cruel jokes now, mocking her. But was it really his fault? Could she blame him?

The first cut was shallow, almost teasing, just a warning, a whisper of the agony to come. But the second came deeper, harsher, as his name was carved into her flesh. The pressure was excruciating. The sting of the blade tore through her skin like fire, but the worst part was the coldness of it. The way the letters were etched slowly, deliberately, carving through her soul as much as her skin.

It hurts... it hurts...

Her breath hitched, ragged and shallow, each jagged line of pain sending tremors through her body.

Stop... stop... please...

Her eyes squeezed shut, but the pain wouldn’t let her escape. Every stroke of the blade felt like an eternity. Her vision blurred, and her throat constricted as she fought to stay conscious.

I hate it... I hate it...

When he finally pulled the blade away, his name was etched into her skin, the wound raw and angry. Blood trickled down her face, staining her shirt, but all she could focus on was the pain, the overwhelming agony of what he’d done.

Jason leaned back, admiring his handiwork with a strange sense of satisfaction. His thumb brushed against the edge of the wound, making her flinch.

"Perfect," Jason whispered, his voice disturbingly soft. "I told you I’d be kind. You should thank me."

She sobbed, her tears mingling with the blood on her face.

Jason’s hand cupped her cheek—almost tenderly this time—and he forced her to meet his gaze. “Don’t cry,” he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle. “You should be grateful. After all, I’m not him. He never gave me a choice. But I gave you one.”

Next: Part 1. Part 2. Part 4.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ.

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andvys · 11 months ago

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter four ⭐︎ Every single thing I touch becomes sick with sadness

Warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of loss, allusions to depression, fear of loss, hurt/comfort. reader calls her sister 'twinkie', mentions of abuse, mentions of sex

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: As Steve shows up on your doorsteps with an apology, you let him see more of just the you he already knows

Word count: 7.6k+

Author's note: shoutout to my co-writer (shut up, you wrote the dialogues and ideas with me, don't say anything) @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

Breathe in. Breathe out.

His heart was pounding, his body was shaking, his eyes wide, blinking rapidly as he stared at the same exact spot. The dried blood on his hands was starting to make him feel sick. It was Eddie’s blood. He hadn’t cleaned it off yet, he was still in shock, still in pain after what they had all gone through.

Eddie made it, he was going to be okay, his injuries were bad and he was losing blood, a lot of blood, but he would be okay. And yet, Steve had felt anything but it.

He almost lost a friend, he almost lost Max, he almost lost… you.

He was sitting down beside you, though he couldn’t bring himself to look up and face you. You looked so… dead. Your skin lost its color, and the bandage around your head was new, yet there was a blood stain already. The machines were beeping beside you, it was the only sound in the room.

And then the door opened, only then did he lift his head to look up, expecting it to be your parents or maybe your sister but it was only Nancy. A cup of coffee from the machine outside in her hand, a sad look still resting on her features.

“Hey,” she whispered as she walked towards him, handing him the cup, “here, I didn’t know what you liked so I just got you a regular coffee.”

They’d been together for over a year and she couldn’t even remember what he liked. Should he even be surprised? No. A small thing like this still managed to hurt him.

“Thanks, Nance,” he mumbled as he tried to give her a smile. He reached for the cup, ignoring the way it felt when his fingers brushed hers, how his heart had fluttered despite her rejection only a few hours back.

She cleared her throat and looked away, sitting down at the end of the bed, she looked at you.

He took a sip of the hot coffee as he leaned back in the chair, he avoided looking at you still, instead he kept his focus on her, the way he always did. There was disbelief, anger and sadness flashing in her eyes as she stared at you.

“I can’t believe that Jason did that to her,” she whispered, “I knew I saw something in his eyes, I just didn’t think that he was this violent.”

Steve nodded.

He too was still in disbelief.

You survived the night in the upside down, you fought off bats, didn’t even bat an eye when one of them got you good, but Jason, you almost didn’t survive him. And Steve felt so much rage as he sat there and thought of the guy that almost murdered you.

“Yeah, me neither.”

There are monsters in different dimensions, in dark worlds, ones that do not know of a different way of living, they exist to kill because it is in their nature. But sometimes there are worse monsters, ones that hide behind kind eyes, ones that are raised into a world that should be more humane but because of them, it never will be. This world will always be just as dark as all the other ones that exist in secret. Jason was one of the monsters that got to you.

This world is a hell just like the ones he and his friends had been dragged into but there’s still kindness left, peace and order. Though, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what this world would have turned into if Vecna had won.

He would have brought endless war and chaos on this planet and people would have followed, they would have turned against each other so quickly. Everything would have crumbled into pieces.

Shivers ran down his spine as he thought of what could’ve happened had they not stopped him. You were a part of it all, you helped in stopping him, had you not been at the Creel house, things could’ve gone sideways so easily.

“Hey,” Steve whispered, clearing his throat. “Thank you… You know, for jumping into the water and saving my ass back there.”

Nancy furrowed her brows, a soft laugh fell from her lips, she looked away from you and turned to face him, shaking her head a little.

“Everyone did.. And, she did first. She jumped first on the boat and she jumped first into the water, then I followed, then Robin and then Eddie.”

His eyes widened, flashed with confusion as he tilted his head at her.

“Huh? Who jumped first?”

Nancy’s blue eyes were filled with confusion, her bangs fell in front of her eyes as she turned back to you, saying your name.

You were the first to jump.

You were the one to go after him first.

You wanted to save him.

How could he throw such horrible words at you after what you had done for him? After risking your life to save him?

He wouldn’t even be able to begin to describe the guilt that kept him up all night. He wanted nothing more than to drive over to your place and apologize, even if he would have to drop to his knees, he would.

But Max had told him that it was better to wait, to give you the time that you need, so that’s what he did. But he was going crazy, the guilt and the regret were eating at him, making him feel worse and worse with each passing second.

Going to work that day had been torture as well, he was nervous and restless, he kept bouncing his knee and tapping his pen against the unmarked crossword in front of him. His mind was forcing him to think of you, of the look in your eyes, of the tears and the hurt. He felt so awful, he felt like King Steve again and he is someone he despises, just the way he despises himself, right this second.

Robin told him to leave before he could even finish his shift, knowing that all he wanted was to set things straight, to make things right with you.

And here he is now, standing on your porch with a racing heart and sweaty palms.

He doesn’t know how you will react to seeing him here, but knowing you, he is certain that you will slam the door in his face – he’d deserve it.

He rang the doorbell once before, but you didn’t open it. He wonders if you saw his car in your driveway already. He rings it again, hoping for you to open, hoping for you to give him a chance so he can… try, try to make it up to you.

He tugs at his hair, feeling more and more stressed the longer it takes you to open. As he stands there, staring at the wooden door, he realizes that it’s only the second time that he stands here, on your porch, on the doorsteps of a big house, just as big as the one he lives in, if not bigger. The inside of your home is just as much of a mystery to him as you are.

Steve knows nothing about you, absolutely nothing and he still opened his mouth and threw words at you that you didn’t deserve – even when you pushed him, even when you were being mean to him, you had never sunk so low just to hurt him, not once.

After he got all this anger off his chest, you were no longer the girl he saw before, you were someone else, someone vulnerable, someone heartbroken and that hurt even more to think about.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when you finally open the door. He snaps his head up and his eyes meet yours for the first time that day.

He had seen you in a bad state before, after your fight with Jason Carver, after the surgery that saved your life, you looked bad. Your skin was marked with bruises and scars, you had that traumatized look in your eyes that no one dared to even mention. You barely ate or talked for the first few days, whether it was because of the surgery or the trauma that Carver had left you with, you were in a bad, bad state.

But he had never seen you like this before.

Not even the sadness from last night was this strong as the one in your eyes now. They are glassy, a mix of anger and hurt swirling in them. Your lips are puffy just like your eyes, from all the crying. Your hair is messy, a big hoodie that doesn’t even seem to belong to you hanging loosely on your form.

Another pang of guilt hits him at the sight of you.

You stare at each other for a long moment before you try to slam the door shut again, but he jumps forward, pressing his palm against it, “Blondie, please! I just want to talk!”

He hears your sniffle, like you’re trying not to cry again. You stop pushing against the door but you don’t pull away either, you don’t let him see you.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he hears you say.

“I-I just want to apologize, I was an asshole to you and you didn’t deserve it. I messed up.. fuck..” He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling desperate to fix this between you two, “I’m sorry, I’m really fucking sorry, Blondie.”

“Y-You’re forgiven, now please leave..”

The weakness in your voice makes him feel like the worst person alive, knowing that he is the cause of your suffering, right now.

How did you feel last night?

“No,” he begs, shaking his head as though you could see him, “please just let me in, I-I want to talk to you, I want to fix it, please let me fix it.”

You are silent on the other side of the door, you don’t move, you don’t speak. You hesitate. And it feels like forever that he stands here with a pounding heart, willing you to open the door and let him see you, talk to you.

Without a word, you open the door and you step aside, crossing your arms over your chest.

He swallows the lump in his throat, blinking as he takes in the sight of you, once again.

You stare at him with both impatience and annoyance now, wanting to get this over with quickly, while he wants time – time with you.

He had never felt such desperation before, especially now that he sees you.

“There’s nothing to fix, it’s okay, you told me what you–”

He says your name, and he says it so desperately that it shuts you up.

“I won’t leave until I can properly apologize to you.”

You blink, your upper lip twitches and you take a moment, staring at him for what feels like forever until you nod.

“Fine..”

“Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

He takes a deep breath before he steps inside the house he has never been in before, he closes the door behind him and he can’t help but look around, taking in the sight of the big hallway, the wide stairs are on the right side, pictures hang on the wall all the way up to the second floor, there is one that is slightly bigger than the others, and even from afar, he recognizes you – you are no older than twelve in that picture, you wore a wide smile on your face, pigtails that were tied with pink bows at the end, you were wearing a dress and you looked happy in a way he had never seen before. Your big sister was next to you, holding your hand as your parents stood behind you both, the smiles were genuine, even on their faces.

Only as he stares at the picture, does he realize that he has never actually seen your parents before.

“Are your parents home?” He asks without looking at you, still questioning

You hesitate.

“No… I uh, do you want something to drink?” You ask awkwardly, not knowing what else to say or do.

Steve is too busy staring at the picture, trying to remember your parents, wondering why they didn’t come to visit you at the hospital, only your sister came to see you.

When he looks down at you, away from the picture of the girl that once looked so happy, he now sees a broken one, for the first time, he sees past those glares and cold looks.

He runs his fingers through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry… I’m really sorry about all the awful shit I said to you last night, I was angry a-and I let it out on you and you did not deserve this, you really didn’t deserve any of the words I threw at you.”

You blink, and you press your lips together just like you did before, just like you did last night.

“It’s okay–”

“No, I said things that I had no clue about and I never wanna do that again. I just, I want to understand you.. I want to get to know you because.. fuck, I’m realizing how much I’m hurting you.”

Your eyes soften and you genuinely look surprised at his words, eyeing him as you stay silent.

You don’t blame him, he’s not at fault, not entirely. He knows nothing about you or your life, so how could he know that those words would cause so much damage?

You carry guilt, just like he does.

You both kept throwing knives at each other, hitting one target after the other but you were both blindfolded to the pain you were causing to each other.

You shift, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater you are wearing, you close your eyes for one second, taking a deep breath, before you open them again and look up at Steve.

“What do you want to know?” You ask, surprising him with your words.

He expected you to be more stubborn than this, but you seem willing to let him get to know you, the real you.

“Anything you want to give me really.. so… I just want to stop hurting you without me realizing it… I don’t… I need to stop hurting you, Blondie.”

You look at him, really look at him, and you notice that he looks just as bad as you do. His hair is messy – a very unusual sight for him. He has dark circles under his eyes, like he hasn’t slept all night and his eyes are filled with guilt.

With a sigh, you tilt your head into the direction of the living room, motioning him to follow. You turn on the lamp on the dresser, making the room appear lighter, it’s gloomy outside and the rain has been falling all morning, it only just stopped.

“Sit,” you mumble, pointing to the couch, “wait here.”

He nods at you and sits down, he watches you leave the room again and listens to your footsteps as you make your way upstairs. He looks around, there are fewer pictures around here, though still enough for him to get curious about your parents again. There’s a bouquet of fresh flowers on the small table in front of him – Daisies. A throw blanket lays on the other end of the couch, an open book next to it, were you reading when he got here?

It doesn’t take you long to come back into the room.

Steve’s brows furrow a little when he sees the shoebox in your hand, you place it in front of him and take a deep breath as you look into his eyes, pointing to the box.

“Here’s everything you need to know about me.”

His lips part at your words.

“You can look, I’ll tell you anything you want to know and then we can… move past all of this and go back to the way things were before yesterday.”

He blinks, noticing how your shoulders slumped a little, you don’t want to go back to the way things were, and neither does he. He enjoys the bickering but not when it means that he is hurting you.

You break eye contact, and turn around, “I’m gonna get us something to drink, feel free to look..”

And with that, you leave again and Steve, he stares at the box for a while, feeling like he is about to intrude, despite you telling him to open it, to look inside, he still feels like he is intruding. But his curiosity gets the best of him, he removes the lid carefully and puts it down on the table.

Polaroid Pictures.

So many of them. The box is filled, all the way up to the top with pictures of friends and family. The first one that catches his eye is the one of you and Max. He reaches for it, bringing it closer. You are both smiling into the camera, Max is wearing her red sunglasses and you are wearing your heart shaped ones, an ice cream cone in her hand and a can of diet pepsi in yours – he can’t help but smile as he stares at it, you looked so happy.

The date was written under the picture, with a pink sharpie: May 7th 1985.

He places the picture down, reaching for the next one.

This one doesn’t have you on it, only your sister, with a black cat on her lap – Luna, the cat’s name was Luna, he overheard you talking about her to Max. And your sister, he doesn’t remember her actual name, only the nickname you called her when she came to see you at the hospital; Twinkie. He almost laughed at that, the first time he heard it.

The next one is one of you and your dad at the beach, he recognizes him from the picture in the hallway. Both of you were holding surfboards. Your eyes shone with happiness, a bright grin on your face, your dad’s arm was wrapped around your shoulder. In this picture, you looked even happier than in the one from last year. – This one was taken in the summer of 1981, you were only fourteen.

He flinches a little when you place a soda can in front of him, “here, I found some coke in the fridge, figured you’d prefer that.”

He raises his brows and then looks at the pepsi you’re holding in your hand.

“Oh, thanks,” he mumbles, trying to smile.

You nod at him as you sit down beside him, looking at the picture that he’s holding.

“We spent the summer in California, my parents had a summer house in Monterey.”

“Had?”

You nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper as sadness takes over your features, a sadness he hadn’t seen before. It’s not the kind that he had seen last night. It’s one that reminds him of grief, like the one on Max’s face when she mentions Billy.

Oh no.

“My sister sold it last year, I asked her not to but.. for some reason that house gave her more painful memories than this one,” you say as you gesture to the room you sit in, you lean forward, placing your drink on the table as you reach for a picture in the box, “that was.. that was two weeks before they uh.. got into an accident.”

You hand him a picture but he can’t look at it yet, too busy staring at you and at the way you try to hide the tears in your eyes.

Steve’s heart aches in his chest, the guilt eating at him like never before.

“I-I’m so sorry, Blondie,” he whispers as he slowly looks down at the picture, at your parents who both smiled into the camera. That one was also taken in the summer of 1981.

Steve started to feel a little sick as the seconds went by, at each picture that he looked at.

“Twinkie and I took the flight back with our grandparents, we wanted to spend one more week with them in Indianapolis before going back to Hawkins, we didn’t know that this would be the last time we’d ever see them.”

His heart no longer aches at your words, it breaks for you. He didn’t know this, he never knew anything about you. You lost your parents when you were so young, right before your first year in high school.

Now he understands why you had always looked so.. lost.

Why you had been so rude and unapproachable. You pushed people away while you were grieving, you didn’t want anyone to see.

He doesn’t know what to say, no words will give you the comfort that you still clearly need.

“I-I never knew.”

You chuckle as you look at him, still blinking away those tears, “I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not when it just happened.”

“Why not?”

“I’d forever be the girl that lost her parents, and honestly, I’d rather have the whole school hate me than give me pitiful looks.”

“Of course,” he mumbles, shaking his head at you.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs, running his fingers through his messy hair after he puts the picture down, “you’re just so… I don’t know, it’s just.. classic you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, not with anger in your voice but with curiosity.

“Well, you’d rather have the whole world hate you than let them see you vulnerable.”

You shake your head at him and his eyes meet yours as he turns back. There is that look in your eyes, the one that reminds him that he doesn’t know anything about you.

“I let some see.”

Right. Some.

He nods and looks away.

He’s surely not one of those that you let see.

When he reaches for the next picture, he freezes, staring at the two little girls with wide eyes. It’s not hard to figure out who the one next to you is. Strawberry blonde hair, the two front teeth way too big for the small face, she was wearing a cheerleader costume – not knowing that she would’ve become cheer captain years later. Chrissy Cunningham.

The girl next to you was Chrissy, you were hugging each other from the side, giggling.

He looks at you, you were wearing a fairy costume, green and pink colors on the dress, and your smile was big. You looked happy.

He shakes his head a little, not understanding what he sees in front of him.

He had never seen you and Chrissy around each other, not even once. In fact, he rarely ever saw you around anyone for that matter. Sometimes he saw you talking to Jonathan, something that gave him more of a reason to dislike you back then, he’d throw the word ‘freaks’ at the two of you whenever he passed by you. The memories of that fill him with guilt and regret, he always wishes that he could turn back time and change things, change the way he acted.

But he never ever saw you even talking to Chrissy.

He slowly turns to face you, holding up the polaroid, “y-you and Chrissy knew each other?”

You only glance at the picture before you look down, “yeah, we were childhood best friends, we grew apart but… we still kept in touch. She’d stay over sometimes.” you explain, not meeting his eyes.

You lost your parents. You lost a friend.

His words from last night echo in his mind and the guilt crashes over him, harder than before.

No words appear before him, what can he say that will make you feel better in the slightest? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

But the monsters have gotten to her without her knowing about them.

That’s what Max had told him. Now he understands. Even more so, when a different picture catches his eye, one that shocks him even more than the previous one.

Only this time, he doesn’t just freeze, he feels a shiver running down his spine and his chest feels weird, all of a sudden. Because the guy in the picture isn’t someone he ever expected you around with.

He takes it, between his thumb and his forefinger, bringing it closer with a shaky hand. He blinks, like he can’t believe what he is seeing, but it’s real, it’s so very real. No amount of blinking will transform the guy into someone else. It’s unmistakably Billy Hargrove in your collection of polaroids, a collection that reminds you of the people you loved. The box of memories that is frozen in time.

Billy is sitting on the hood of his car, a cigarette held between his fingers as he snickered at the camera. It was taken back in 1984.

You were friends with Billy Hargrove?

He can’t even utter a single word, just reaching for the next picture which is just another one of him.

Billy was lying on the grass, probably in your backyard, his eyes were barely open but he was smiling into the camera, with a thumbs up in the air. It’s clear that he was drunk when you took that picture.

He feels your eyes on him, he notices you shifting on the couch as you lean back, still looking at him. He doesn’t turn to face you, not yet. Too curious to find more pictures of Billy, he doesn’t expect the next ones to be more intimate than the ones before.

He stares at the one of you first, it looks as though you have cried, but you are smiling, and the only thing that covered your body was a blanket, while pushing the camera out of your face.

And for a moment, Steve can’t help but think how beautiful you look in this picture with your hair all messy, your exposed skin looking so soft and glowy beneath dim lights, and a smile so content.

But the picture of Billy makes him frown. He was sitting on your bed, shirtless and with a cigarette between his lips, his eyes were red but he was smiling just like you were.

It’s obvious what happened before these pictures were taken and he can’t shake the weird feeling in his gut, the longer he looks at them.

Were you and Billy dating?

Is that why you have been so miserable since last summer? Because he was just another name on the list of people you have lost?

As though you can read his mind, you lean closer to him, reaching for the first picture you ever took of him, the one where he sits on the hood of his car.

“I ran into Billy at Big Buy’s, well, behind the building. He was smoking a cigarette and he was crying. I hadn’t seen him before, it was the weekend before school started again. I approached him and he obviously tried to scare me off, but… fucker didn’t know who he was talking to,” you chuckle. “He was being rude, like really rude, calling me names and trying to get me to leave, I stepped on his foot and he yelped, literally yelped. I left after that but uh, after that, we just started pestering each other at school and then one day, he showed up here, with a bleeding nose and a busted lip, he didn’t know where else to go.”

Steve watches you, the way your eyes are filled with sadness as you look at the pictures in front of you.

“It took him a while but eventually, he opened up to me, about his dad and everything.”

He knows about Billy’s dad, about the abuse, the emotional and physical abuse. Max told him all about it.

“So uh, then that happened,” you murmur, awkwardly, not meeting his eyes as you point to the pictures of the two of you only covered by the sheets.

“Were you two dating?” He asks, and somehow he feels a knot in his stomach at that question.

You scrunch your face up at his words, almost in a way that makes him laugh. You shake your head at him.

“Fuck no. We weren’t even attracted to each other. I just, at that point we were close and I trusted him so uh.. I just wanted to do it with someone that I felt comfortable with and uh, the beer helped too, I guess,” you say with a small smile on your lips.

Steve turns away from you, biting the insides of his cheeks, the knot slowly undoing itself in his belly.

“We never mentioned it again after this, it wasn’t awkward or anything, we were just.. best friends.”

There is no bitterness in your voice, he notices. You had no feelings for Billy, and that for some reason makes his shoulders relax.

He looks back at you when he feels your eyes on him, your smile has fallen.

“He came to my house… you know.. after he beat you up and he was drugged by Max.”

He raises his eyebrows, pursing his lips.

“What?”

“I told him that it was wrong, what he did, that you did the right thing, that I told him time and time to lay off Max. Damn, I even slapped him across his head when he broke her skateboard.”

His eyes soften, and his lip twitches.

“I-I was doing the right thing?”

“You protected Lucas. When I found out how he was treating him I got so mad at him, we got into a fight and I didn’t talk to him for days. I just hated what he did to him and to Max,” you mumble, breaking eye contact when the look in his eyes gets a little too intense for you. You also didn’t like what Billy did to Steve, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Billy he was.. driven by his father’s words and actions. The abuse turned him into that. He was vulnerable with me, but– the anger was still inside of him… bright red.”

As Steve looks back at the pictures, he realizes that he had never seen Billy like this, happy, smiling. He almost looks like a different person. Regret floods through him, he can’t help but wish that he would’ve gotten to know this side of Billy, the one that you knew, maybe things would’ve gone differently if he did, maybe Max wouldn’t have lost her brother.

“I never saw Hargrove like this.”

“No one did,” you shrug, “only me, sometimes Max. I-I tried to change him and his dumb views but Billy was just.. stubborn and angry.” You shake your head, blinking away the tears that welled up in your eyes, you close them and tilt your head down. “A-And then he pushed me away when he.. when he was possessed.”

Steve notices the way your voice got so much more shaky than before, how you seem to be on the verge of tears.

“Max,” he whispers, now understanding why or who the reason was for your friendship.

“Yeah… Max. We received letters, well, notes from Billy,” you mumble.

He watches how you bring your hand up to your face, wiping away the tears with the sleeves before you reach for something in the box, a folded piece of paper that you hand to him.

“He told me to stay away in mine, all messy, but he said that he didn’t hate me, that he could never..”

Steve doesn’t open the note, your words are enough, he doesn’t want to intrude more than he already did, he understands this enough. Billy pushed you away to keep you safe, and he did it with cruel words to keep you away, because he knew that that would work with you.

Steve is at a loss for words.

“And Max, he called her his sister in hers. She didn’t read the note until a few weeks later though.”

Steve’s eyes widen, and it all clicks in his head.

Why Max had been suffering as much as she did in those months after Billy’s death, why she seemed more depressed than ever when the summer was over.

“Is that why you are so close with her? … For Billy?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, nodding. “She’s like a sister to me, I’d do anything for her.”

And you did. You did and you almost gave your life protecting her.

“And I almost lost her too.”

Just like everyone else you loved and cared about.

Steve’s words did more damage than he thought they did, and they echo in his mind, over and over again.

Don’t you ever ask yourself why you don’t have anyone? Why no one bothers to stick around because I’d be really surprised if someone did.

The nausea that fills him almost overwhelms him, it almost knocks the breath out of him. He swallows harshly, and he starts to put the polaroids back into the box, blinking as he looks at each and every one of them again.

His eyes linger on the one of you smiling, the one from the year before. When you found your happiness again when a new friend had stepped into your life.

Steve couldn’t stand Billy Hargrove, he really couldn’t stand him, but his death was cruel and even he didn’t deserve what happened to him and you didn’t deserve to lose another person you cared about.

You lost. You lost people, you lost family, you lost friends and you lost your spark, your happiness. And now he understands why you are the way that you are. Why you keep pushing everyone away, you’re scared to lose again, scared to get too close to someone only to watch them being taken away from you.

As he stares at your smile, he can’t help but frown at the picture in his hand because he will never get to see this. He will never see you like this with him and in this moment, he can’t help but envy those who will.

“You are right.” His voice sounds small, filled with regret, filled with sadness and hurt.

“Huh?”

“I don’t know what loss is. I– shit. I don’t know if I could have handled it like you did.”

You feel your eyes burning at his words and before you can even try to blink your tears away, one falls from your eye.

Steve’s eyes soften when he hears your sniffle, he watches the tear roll down your cheek. He moves without thinking, raising his hand up to your face, he catches the tear with his thumb.

You freeze and your lips part in surprise, his touch giving you butterflies despite what happened yesterday.

His touch feels so foreign on your skin, yet comforting and warm, like something that you have been craving and longing for since always. You slowly turn to face him and only then, does he realize what he did.

His cheeks flush red and his eyes fill with embarrassment, he clears his throat and pulls his hand away from your face, not knowing that this makes you feel empty again.

“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, apologizing to him, for the first time. “Knowing that they’re alive yet still deciding to leave you behind.. that’s not easy either.”

He appreciates your words and his lip twitches, he shrugs, trying to play it off – The pain he always endured by himself and never voiced out, and he won’t start doing it now. It’s done with.

“I have the kids and Robin.”

“Right,” you whisper as you push yourself up, unable to sit here with him any longer, you reach for the box, ignoring the confused look that he gives you, “they take care of you.”

He noticed the sarcastic tone at that last phrase, but he nodded either way.

“Okay uh, time to go, Lego head. I need a shower.”

This time, he can’t help but smile at the nickname.

“Okay, Blondie.”

You lead him back out into the hallway, avoiding the hazel eyes that fill your heart with nothing but sadness and longing.

You feel your heart pounding, your eyes still burning as you feel yourself nearing the edge of yet another breakdown this day.

“Hey,” Steve whispers, taking a hold of your arm he pulls you back so he can see your face again.

“Yeah?”

Your eyes show him so much and now he can’t help but wonder if these emotions have always been there and he was just too blind to see them or if you only showed them now.

“I’m really sorry about everything,” he whispers.

Your lips twitch, though not into a smile.

“Me too, Steve.”

He keeps holding your arm, ignoring the wish to hold you instead.

“Are we.. good?”

His question makes you laugh and you squint your eyes.

“When have we ever been good?”

He rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but smile. He brings his left hand up, running his fingers through his messy hair.

There is that look in his eyes, the one that shows you that he is thinking about something, deeply.

“Do I still call you Blondie…?” He asks as he realizes that he had always called you by a name that must have taken you back to a time where you had felt the saddest, the loneliest. You were fifteen when you had bleached your hair and tried out new styles, all the time. He never knew that it was something that you needed to do, to distract yourself from the grief. You had no friends, no one to talk to, no one to be with. You only had that – box dye, makeup and new clothes every week.

Oh.

You swallow the lump in your throat, digging your nails into your palm. He knows.

“I would be mad if you didn’t. It’s weird when you say my name, Harrington.”

He chuckles, shaking his head a little.

“Yeah yeah, Blondie, keep acting like you don’t like it.”

You smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes and he can see it.”

“I guess we’re still Lego head and Blondie then, huh?” He asks, snorting.

“Always.”

He licks his lips, nodding.

“Always,” he chuckles as he lets go of you and walks towards the door, he opens it, but he doesn’t step out, right away. He looks back at you, one more time, “you know, I didn’t mean a single thing that I said to you, last night. And I’ll do anything for you to believe me. B-But, I think that you’re amazing and the people that had the chance to get to know you… the real you were really fucking lucky.”

He leaves you with those words, closes the door and walks away from you.

And you stare at the front door for what feels like forever before you finally break into tears. You were pushing away your pain and your sadness but the fight from last night, his presence and his words have made it all so much worse again.

You bury your face in your hands as you sit down on the stairs, letting tears fall that you haven’t felt in ages but instead of relief, you feel frustration running through you. You didn’t miss this, you didn’t miss this for a single second.

There is a knock on the front door and it fills you with annoyance when you expect it to be Steve again.

Wiping your tears with anger, you rip open the door, expecting to see him again but instead it’s Max on your doorstep. Max and Eddie.

You blink, looking between them, back and forth.

Max’s blue eyes fill with worry as she looks into your glassy eyes.

Eddie smiles at you, despite matching the look in her eyes.

“Hey, you didn’t let me come in yesterday so I assumed that if I brought Red here you would let us in,” he says, still smiling cheekily. “We brought movies and got your favorite snacks,” he points to Max’s backpack.

You don’t know what comes over you, but the kind smile on his face, of the guy that has been trying desperately to be your friend, makes you want to continue crying. You don’t know how, but you keep your tears at bay.

You know that they can see that you were crying, but it brings you comfort to know that neither of them will push you to talk about anything.

“Hey guys,” you try to put on your best smile as you greet them, you step aside without another word.

Eddie’s smile widens, he bumps his shoulder into Max.

“Hey,” she smiles, still eying you worriedly, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod, placing your hand on her shoulder, “I’m okay.”

She doesn’t look convinced but she doesn’t push you to talk, she doesn’t ask any more questions either. She just walks straight into the living room.

“She feels at home, huh?” Eddie chuckles.

“It’s basically her second home so yeah,” you laugh.

His brown eyes take you in, his lips twitch but his smile doesn’t fall. He looks like he wants to say something but he doesn’t speak up.

You both follow Max into the living room, expecting her to be unpacking the snacks but instead she stands there frozen in place as she stares at the box of polaroids.

Your eyes widen and in panic, you rush over to the coffee table, wanting to close the box.

“S-Shit, I’m sorry–”

“No!” She grabs your hand before you reach for the lid. “I-It’s okay, I’m okay. A-Are you though?” She asks as she looks away from the pictures of Billy.

Eddie looks between you two, furrowing his brows as he takes a step closer. He looks into the box and his eyes widen instantly.

“Holy shit, is that–”

“Eddie don’t,” Max warns him.

You shake your head, “no.. no, it’s okay, Max.”

Eddie doesn’t even look at Max or you, he is staring at the picture of her brother, in shock.

“I-I promise, it’s okay,” you mumble, pinching the bridge of your nose as you feel your heart starting to pound again, “I just.. I need some fresh air, I’ll be right back.”

You leave the room, rushing out of the house. You sit down on the porch steps, taking a deep breath. The earthy smell that lingers after the rain comforts you a little.

You knew you wouldn’t get more than a minute to yourself, because only moments later, the door opens. You know that it’s Eddie, you hear the flick of his lighter, and seconds later, the smell of smoke fills the air, mixing with the smell of the after rain.

You hear his footsteps and then he sits down next to you. Without a word, he offers you the cigarette. You take it, placing it between your lips, you take a drag and blow out the smoke.

Eddie doesn’t talk, he just wants you to know that he is here because he wants to be, he wants to be your friend but you don’t want to lose him too.

“I lost a lot of people I cared about, Eddie.. Every single one of them, my parents, Chrissy, Billy.. I almost lost Max and you too,” You trail off, taking another drag before you hand him back the cigarette. “And I can’t lose any more people, Eds.”

He stares at you with his big sad eyes that you can’t bring yourself to look into for longer than two seconds.

“I feel like I’m fucking cursed or something. Everything that I touch immediately rots. That’s why I just.. I keep pushing you away because I already lost a best friend.. so just please.”

He sees the way you’re blinking, the way your hands are shaking just like your voice is. He knows what you’re asking of him and he only shakes his head in response, moving closer to you as he feels his own eyes burning.

You’re his friend, a friend that he doesn’t want to lose either.

“Nah.. It will take a whole swarm of demobats to rip me away from you. And even then, hey, I will still survive, already did once,” he tries to crack a joke but only makes you tear up even more.

You finally turn to face him, looking into the kind eyes of your friend before your eyes move down to his neck, to the bandaid that covers his scar.

“But–”

“No buts. You are not cursed. You are not responsible for anything that happened to those people. It’s okay to feel sad, it’s okay to hurt, it’s okay to love, Darling. Let yourself do it,” he says, smiling as he throws his cigarette on the pavement before he wraps his arms around you, bringing you closer, “and stop pushing me away, please.”

Your bottom lip trembles and the tears flow like a waterfall, you stop fighting it, you stop fighting him and you let him pull you into his arms, closing your eyes as you lay your head on his chest, letting yourself fall into the hug that you so desperately need.

“Let it out, sweets.”

The soothing tone in his voice makes you cry even harder, your tears seep through his shirt but he doesn’t mind, he rubs your back and holds you. Your heart is crying, your brain is banging, your breaths are cut short thanks to your sobs, but it’s something you needed. And even through all of that, you are feeling so relieved, so light at each sob that rips out of your throat.

And when you feel Max’s hand in yours, her head on your shoulder as Eddie still holds you, you know that everything will be okay, that you will be okay. You might not need anything else for now… these two people right here are making you feel fuller than you ever felt in the past year.

You won’t lose them.

You won’t have to live without them.

They will be more than just a short time.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals:

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @wroteclassicaly @sherrylyn628 @livosssblog

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #stranger things angst

1K notes · View notes

spidernuggets · 1 year ago

Note

No. 18 "Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't" with reader saying this to Jason because he just found out that the Joker is her father

Jason Todd x Joker's Daughter!Reader

"Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't."

You tried long and hard to fall out of your father's tight grasp of holding you hostage, telling you many times that you are his flesh and blood. His family. His face and name.

He's repeated that no one in the world will ever love you except him. And even if someone did, if they find out who you're related to, they'd instantly stop loving you. No one in the world is aware of your existence except for him and a few of his goons. Not even Batman knows that the Joker has a kid.

You've watched the Joker torture, maim, kill so many innocent people. You've watched him force other men who can't fend for themselves to work for him.

And for what? Your father does this for a good laugh. Because he's bored. Because he wants to play Tag with Batman.

But with endless lectures and monologues from the Joker, somehow, you remain to stay sane. But every time you tried to escape his hold, he somehow still managed to find you. How does he do it?

You found out from overhearing a discussion to kill Batman that the Joker would use Scarecrow's fear toxin on you to do his bidding, knowing that maltreatment wouldn't get you to do what he wants. And upon this discussion, you hear that you can't escape. That you could never escape from him. He planted a tracking chip, under your tongue.

You instantly ran to what is labelled as your bedroom. But in reality, it's just a small, cramped space with mould growing in all corners, cracks in the walls, and dried blood stains on the floor. But toss an old mattress there, and suddenly it classifies as a bedroom from dear old dad.

There's a shattered mirror hanging on one of the walls. You grab a shard off the floor, staring into the mirror, looking desoerate to take the tracker out. As soon as you lifted your tongue to rip out your tracker, you hear the Joker call for you.

"Ohhh, Y/n, my sweets!" He bellows. You drop the shard, turning to look at your dad with an unamused expression on your face, replying with a harsh 'what'.

"Clear up the attitude, hm? There's someone I'd like you to meet!" He declares, almost in a tune. Your face scrunches in confusion. Joker says no more as he walks away, expecting you to follow, as you do.

You follow him down to the ground floor of the warehouse. And you're shocked to see Robin tied up with barbed wires to a wheelchair. His face is busted, there's dark circles under his eyes, but no one would notice them seeing how bloodied his face was, and his head was hung low.

He looked scared, confused. He looked like he'd given up on trying to escape.

"Meet boy blunder 2.0!" Joker cheered, picking up his crowbar, giving Jason a swing to the leg. Jason grimaces but doesn't scream in pain. He already looks so dead. Joker scoffs in boredom. "Not playing, I see," he mutters. "No matter! I'm quite finished with you anyway. But first!"

The Joker brings out a camera, putting it right in front of Jason. You're confused as to why you were brought down to witness this. You have an understanding that the Joker would kill Robin, but you have no control over what he does. You try to help Robin, and your head would have a bullet in there.

"How long has he been here?" You quietly ask.

"Oh, you know.." The Joker chuckles. "A month... a year? Same difference," he cackles as your eyes widen.

He starts recording, and you don't realise you can be seen in the corner of the background of the footage. The Joker goes on and on with his usual, riddled speeches. Within that, it is revealed to you that this new Robin is identified as Jason Todd, who claims to hate Batman.

"Hey..." The Joker suddenly says to Jason. "I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? What's his name? Tell me!" he calmly says.

"Of course, sir. It's-"

No matter how many times you witness your father murder an innocent person, you'd never get used to the sound of his gunshot. Or the sound of his crowbar against bruising flesh. Or his maniacal cackles of dekight when he kills someone. Especially someone who is... was close to Batman.

"Never could stand a tattletale. See, my darling, Y/n?" He says to you. "This is why I work alone. No one to spoil the punchline!" He grands the camera, bringing it to get a closer look at the dead boy in front of you. "You should try it sometime." At this point, you don't know if he's talking to you or the camera. You assume this video footage would be sent to the Bat.

The Joker finishes up the footage, tossing the camera to you as you clumsily catch it. "Export the footage, my sweets. Then, send it to the coordinates that I'll send to you in a bit," he instructs to you.

"Why can't you do it?" You carefully say, trying not to get on his bad side.

"Because..." He hisses, harshly grabbing your face with a firm grip as you winced. "I told you to do it. Now go."

You glare at him, going to go export the footage and send the taoes to the coordinates, in which you assume is where Batman would be currently located.

A month later, everything is quiet. The Joker and most of his goons are out to raid Scarecrow's cookery. You take this opportunity. You head to your room, looking dead in your eyes through the mirror. You slowly open your mouth, sticking your finger in, trying to feel the lumo of where the tracker is situated.

When you find it, you grab a shard, placing it directly over the tracker. You attempted to muffle your whimpers as much as you can to make sure the rest of Joker's goons don't hear you. You were finally able to pop the tracker out, and you hold it up between your eyes, your focus on the blinking light that somehow blinds you. It makes your eyes water, but you drop the tracker to the ground, leaving it there. You're aware that if you step on it, it might send a signal to Joker, indicating that the device he planted in you had been damaged.

So you left it there in your room, you pack whatever shit you can, and you attempt once more to escape that damn warehouse. For the uears you soent in there, you took note of usually unguarded exits and the routines of your dad's goons.

And with that, you successfully stepped foot out of the warehouse. And you took no extra second to bolt away as fast and as far away as you can.

With your bolt for freedom, you go to the closest drug store. Thanks to dear old dad, you managed to steal some essentials. Vitamins, bandages- oh. And some hair dye. You go to whatever public restroom you could find. You got your pocket knife and started to messily cut your hair, along with applying every last drop of that hair dye.

You decided to stay along the outskirts of Gotham. You were never able to get out of the warehouse, so staying in Gotham, a somewhat familiar setting would be safest for you.

And since the outskirts are the poorer sides of town, where the Joker wouldn't be interested in torturing the already tortured, you knew that he wouldn't be a problem for a good while.

So you went around, figuring the in and outs of the outskirts. It's been another few years, and you've forgotten all about the Robin fiasco that occurred in the warehouse. You even forgot that he willingly revealed his identity.

The past few years had been hectic. There was a new Robin roaming around, a new crime lord emerged by the name of Arkham Knight, whose name had died down a bit and is now working alongside Batman... you think?

You were able to get a stable job at Bat Burgers. Luckily, seeing as it's a cheao, greasy fast food place, they didn't need any formal documents. You were able to rent a run-down apartment (which was a huge upgrade to your decomposing room back at the warehouse) and with a little extra cash, you were able to buy snacks for some of the kids along the outskirts.

You were fishing through your bag for your wallet when you bumped into someone, and you hit your face prettg hard against them.

"Ow! Watch it, nitwit!" You snap at them, but they scoff.

"You're the one not watching where you're going," he bites back. And you were about to make a snarky comment, but when you looked up at the stranger, you swear you saw an angel. He was tall... very tall. He also had gorgeous green eyes and a few scars on his face that made him somewhat more attractive.

Your silence indicates to him that you have nothing else to say, and he scoffs once more and leaves. You shake your head away from the thought of how good-looking he was and continued your way towards the grocery store.

You picked up a few meats and vegetables you were going to offer to the soup kitchen down the road, not forgetting to put some candy and snacks in the basket for the kids that would be there.

When you checkout, you headed straight for the soup kitchen, immediately greeting Diane, the owner of the place,with a sweet smile and a wave. You say hi to the other volunteers when you make it to the back of the kitchen, dropping off the plastic bag full of produce, telling the others you won't be long.

When you step out, you're instantly tackled by a bunch of 6 and 7 years olds hugging you tightly, all of them talking at once saying how much they missed you.

"Okay, okay," you laugh with the kids. "Hey, guess what I got," you bend down to their level, lowering your voice, as they all copied you, looking more secretive and quietening. You then whip open your bag, reveal various treats for them as the kids squeal with excitement.

"Alright, alright, one at a time!" You exclaim, happy ti see the kids enjoying their time.

When you wrap things up, you hug the kids once more, saying goodbye and that you'd see them soon. But when you swiftly turn, your face is once more met with a solid surface.

You take a step back, grabbing your nose. "Ow! Shit- again?!" You hiss, your eyes tight shut as your hands apply soothing pressure to your not really broken face.

"You know you shouldn't curse. There's kids around."

You look up, getting a sense of deja vu, seeing the same pair of emerald green eyes looking down at you smugly.

"Ugh.. you," you groaned, secretly glad you got to see him again... just wanting to admire the view, you guess.

"Ugh, me," the handsome stranger mocked with a grin. He stuck his hand out, interested to officially meet the person who continuously walks into his chest. But also, the person who manages to make these kids smile in just a split second.

"Jason."

You raise a brow at his extended arm, shaking it cautiously. "Y/n..." You say, shaking his hand. Didn't he know a Y/n from somewhere?

You notice him wearing an apron. "You volunteer here?" You question as Jason nods his head.

"Whenever I get free time. I only started volunteering recently. Otherwise, I'm just doing whatever. How bout you?"

"Just visits here and there. I don't have time to volunteer fully. Just drop off some food and snacks most of the time, though," you explain, and Jason smiles.

"Well, your time here definitely seems to cheer up those kids. They're always frowning," he says sadly, but you just shrugged.

"It's not much. It's all I can offer. This side of Gotham really isn't Wayne manor," you joke, unaware that you were having a conversation with a son of Bruce Wayne. Well... not until Diane comes up.

"Ah, Y/n! You've met Jason Todd!" She cheers.

Jason Todd. Where have you heard that name before? It's starting to itch the back of your mind.

"Yeah, glad you got another volunteer since you're getting fewer people to help out," you say with a sad smile.

"I know, but it's not every day you get a son of Bruce Wayne to volunteer in a little kitchen," she happily says. One of the workers at the back calls out to Diane for some help. "Well, better get back to work! See you soon, Y/n!" She happily says as she walks off to the back.

Your brows are high, and your eyes are wide as you stare at Jason. "You're... You're a Wayne?!" You say shockingly while looks down at you.

"You didn't know? I'm kind of famous," he starts to say as you look at him cluelessly. "Was announced dead but was actually alove, just gone missing?"

"Nah, doesn't ring a bell."

"Wow, you don't get out much, do you?" He laughs.

"As much as that is an interesting tale to tell, I'm not interested in rich people business," you say as you glance at your watch. "Look, it was nice talking to you. Sorry for walking into you or whatever, but I gotta go. Late for work," you explain as you were about to bolt out the door. But Jason stops you by grabbing your hand.

"Wait! I... I kind of wanted to get to know you more. Can.. I get your number?" He awkwardly asks.

"Oh..." You quietly say. "I... Sorry, I just... Don't have a phone.." You say in embarrassment. But it doesn't seem to bother Jason.

"Oh, well... where do you work? What time would you finish? I can.. uhm. Drop you home if you want?" He offers, and you smile.

"Batburgers. 9pm, " you say as Jason nods and you finally run out the door, sprinting to work.

As promised, Jason comes to visit you half an hour before your shift ends, talking to you about the soup kitchen as you wiped down a table.

When you walk out with him, you notice that he's walking you towards a motorcycle.

"You ride a bike?" You ask.

"Yeah, is that okay?"

"Is it okay?? It's sick!" You exclaim as you hop on behind him once he gets on. Under his helmet, he smiles, thinking how cute your reaction was, as he hands you a spare helmet.

He would be lying if he said his heartbeat sped up when you wrapped your arms around his waist. He just met you. He shouldn't be so nervous around you like this.

"So... would you be free any time this week?" He asks as he walks you up to your apartment complex. You insisted many times you can go on your own, embarrassed for Jason to see where you lived in comparison to Wayne Manor, but Jason assured you that he wouldn't care.

"I have work for the rest of the week," you reply in disappointment. "But... I guess I do finish pretty late each night... wouldn't mind a ride back," you say in hopes that Jason would accept your request of taking both a lift off of him, and his time to talk to him more.

He smiles in response, agreeing to pick you up after work as you gave him your schedule.

Your routine of Jason picking you up during the late nights after work continued. Soon, the two of you went out on actual hangouts through Gotham for a few weeks. Then those weeks turned to months. And soon, Jason frew tired of just being friends with you.

How the hell was he supposed to just be friends with you when his heart raced when you smiled. Or when his cheeks burn when you compliment him. Or when his stomach flutters when you hug him.

How the hell was he supposed to just be friends with you when he's trying so damn hard not to kiss you just because you looked so cute.

Ao he grew himself a pair and asked you out.

Obviously, you said yes.

And another of a couple of dates later, you made it official. Jason was so down bad that he asked you to move into his apartment. You told him so many times you didn't want to intrude his space, but he just called you dumb and ridiculous (which you took great offence to). But eventually, you caved in and agreed.

During this time, you have never felt so loved before. Jason made you forget that the Joker existed. That he was even your father. Jason proved the Joker wrong. There is someone who can truly love you.

But... then your relationship started to get messy. He stopped picking you up from work. He was out late at night, and he wouldn't tell you why. You found him early next morning laying on the couch. He wouldn't even come to bed anymore?

You continuously asked where he's getting these bruises and wounds from. But he wouldn't answer that either. He just told you that it wasn't your business and to leave him alone.

Today, he woke up around noon. He rubbed his eyes and cracked his neck, clearly another uncomfortable sleep.

He was looking around his surroundings when he sees a duffle bag by the door. He then hears from the oppostie side, a door being closed. He turns to see you dressed and with no clear expression on your face.

You've acknowledged that he was awake, but you refuse to make any eye contact with him. You head straight to the door, picking up your duffle bag, fishing through your stuff as you find what you were looking for while Jason remains on the couch confused.

"Where are you going?" He calls out.

"Home." You spit, pulling the spare keys that Jason gave you for his apartment and slammed it on the desk beside the door.

Jason instantly gets up. "W-what? But- But you are home! This is your home! Our home.." he says, panicking.

"Is it? Is our home, Jason?" You yell. "Because you're never here! And when you are here, you're sleeping. Then, you wake up and you go out. And you get hurt. And you're not telling me how or- or why! I don't know if you're cheating or if you're in a fight club, but clearly, you don't want me to know, and clearly, you don't care if I'm worried about you. So, yeah. I'm going home. Oh! And it's over," you hiss, glaring at his, reaching for the door knob.

"Wait- wait! Please. Please, I'll explain," Jason begs, as you turn, a stern look on your face.

Jason sits you down, telling you not to freak out.

Ans you've never hated yourself more than you do now. Jason tells you that he was Arkham Knight, now going by the name Red Hood. And that he used to be the second Robin.

You wanted to scream and cry. That's where you heard the name Jason Todd from. Jason Todd was murdered right in front of your eyes. Jason Todd was tortured by your father. Jason Todd was killed by your father. Jason Todd os dating his murderer's daughter.

You play it off. Saying that it all makes sense. Why he doesn't pick you up anymore. Why he's always out so late. Why he gets so many wounds and bruises.

You'll tell him. You'll tell him who you really are. Soon. It's not fair if he doesn't know. Especially since he's coming clean now.

You'll tell him soon.

You didn't know when soon would be. Every time you think soon is coming, the moment disappears.

Jason's either in too much of a good mood or he's having a breakdown and a nightmare. He has nightmares about the Joker torturing him. And it's you who's there to snap him out of it. It's you who's there to comfort him. You comfort him, telling him that the Joker isn't here. But you are. You tell him that you're there for him.

You feel so guilty. You tell him the Joker isn't out there to get him. But there you are. His own flesh and blood, cradling him, shushing him, whispering sweet nothings to him til he falls asleep once more.

You'll tell him soon.

You grew even more guilty when Jason brings you over to Wayne Manor, and Bruce, Dick and Tim welcome you with open arms. Bruce had this... look in his eyes. But you ignored it nonetheless. Jason gives you a tour of the Manor, even shows you the big cave downstairs, and takes you to his old room. You try to stay optimistic, joking about how he was such a berd, looking at all the classic books laying around. But then you came across an old photo of him. He's younger and in his Robin suit. He looks happy. It was obvious Robin meant so much to him. And your dad took that away from him.

You'll tell him soon.

One day, you went into the cave after receiving a call from Jason.

"Why did you call me here?" You asked.

"Joker's dead." Was all he says. And you froze. You don't know how to feel. Relieved? Does this mean you don't have to tell him who you are?

"I know this is random, but... Superman killed Joker. I don't know if I can finally breathe, but... I don't know. There's a tingle inside of me. Telling me that the Joker is still alive and out to get me."

Shit.

You'll tell him soon. You'll tell him soon, right? Maybe now? Like, the Joker's dead. You've shown nothing but love to Jason. He'd believe you. He'd believe you are not your dad. You'll tell him. Yeah, you'll tell him soon.

Jason sighs and plays the tapes. The tapes that the Joker sent to Batman when he was Robin. And your eyes widen.

"Why the hell are you watching that??" You say in complete fear. The camera that the Joker used was old and glitchy with horrible quality. But as Jason played the tapes, you could still make out that there's a half of a figure, just peeking through the camera in the background behing the tied up, young Jason Todd.

"I don't know... Trying to find a conclusion. If anyone had to kill Joker, it should've been me," Jason says with a low voice.

"Hey... I never asked. What's the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? What's his name? Tell me!" The tape plays, displaying on the huge screen in front of the two, and you swear you'd throw up any second now.

"Of course, sir. It's-" Before the gun gets shot, Jason sighs, pausing and rewinding.

"I'm sorry. This is all so dark and heavy." Jason grumbles. You don't say anything. You're focused on the small blur in the corner of the footage.

As Jason stares as the paused footage, he mentions, "That doesn't look like one of his henchmen."

Tell him.

"Fuck me, is that another kid?" he mutters angrily to himself, leaning in, taking a closer look at the footage.

Fucking tell him.

Jason takes a breath and presses play, and the video starts with a bang.

Tell him, god dammit.

"Never could stand a tattletale. See, my darling, Y/n?" The Joker says through the video. And time stops. Was the cave always this quiet? The video is still playing. How is it so quiet??

The camera wobbles as the Joker picks it up. He walks closer to Jason's dead body, but for a split second, you're in full, clear view. And Jason pauses the video. You weren't moving. You didn't look scared. You looked fed up.

Jason is silent. That's not you. That can't be you. Jason's head turns from the footage of you to you, currently standing behind him. No, no. That's not you. Your hair colour is different. But your face has the same bone structure.

"Y/n," he calls out. Your name is now so bitter on his tongue. "Tell me that, isn't you. He meant something else, right? 'My darling'? What the fuck does that mean? He was just scaring you, right???" Jason questions, his voice raising each sentence and his bottom lip quivering.

Your eyes are blurry as tears threaten to fall. You walk to Jason, bending down, looking up and you place you hands ever so gently on his knees.

"Jason," your voice cracks. "I wanted to tell you so bad," you whimper.

And Jason lets out a harsh, sarcastic laugh. "Fuck me. Don't fucking tell me you were working with him. You're a real fucking psychopath working with him at what? 13?" He spits, tears cascading down his scarred cheeks.

You shook your head. "Jay," you tried to sweetly call out to him. "I'm his daughter," you pathetically admit.

Jason's eyes widen to the point where it looks like his eyes would detatch from his sockets. He shakes his head slowly. But then, he shakes it faster, harsher.

"That isn't funny, Y/n," he almost chokes saying your name.

"No, it's not funny," you say. "But it's true," you start crying.

Jason pushes you away. You fall back as Jason stands up, towering over you. You've never been so intimidated by him before.

"You're his daughter? The Joker has a daughter?" Jason whispers in disbelief. And you nod in response. "So what the fuck were you doing just standing there? Ha.. What? Did you enjoy watching him put me through hell?"

"Jason- No! I wasn't even there when he-"

"LIAR!" He yells, his voice echoing across the cave. His breathing becomes heavy and uneven.

"Jason, you're going to have a pani-"

"Get out." He says.

"W-what?"

"Get. Out. If I ever see you again, I'll end you. I may not have been able to kill Joker myself, but you? Making me think you loved me? Fuck, is this why you only tell me now? Because daddy's dead? Just get the fuck out and never see me ever again. This is your only chance," he says, looking away from you as you finally start sobbing.

"Jay- Jason. Please," you beg, shifting to your knees, looking up at him. "Plea- Please. I can't be hated by you, I just can't." You pleaded and begged and prayed that Jason would look at you.

But Jason knows that if he looks at your state, then he might forgive you. Might forget the situation. But he can't because your father killed him. And all in his mind is that you used him because you were working with his dad. And that you're only crying because his dad got killed and that you got caught. So, no. He won't look at you, and he won't forgive you.

"Jason, please, you- you're the only person who has ever made me feel loved," you sniffled. "And I- I wanted to help you then. Help you escape. But I couldn't, please! Please believe me, Jason, please," you cried harder.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

You and Jason's heads turn to the voice. Bruce comes out of the elevator to the Batcave, walking closer to the pair.

And all Jason could see is red.

"You knew?" He snarled. And then scoffed. "Well, yeah, of course you knew. You didn't even kill Joker when you found out he murdered me- You didn't even care!" Jason yells. "I don't care that Penguin or- or Riddler are out there. They didn't kill me! They didn't kill thousands- millions! The Joker did! And you kept him alive! Now that he's dead, guess what! His daughter is right here under our noses! And you knew! Do you hate me that much that you let the Joker's daughter into our home?"

"Jason, plea-"

"I TOLD YOU TO GET THE FUCK OUT!" Now that Jasin finally looked at you, all you saw on him face was pure spite and anger. There was no more love for you left in his eyes. Just pure hatred.

And you finally got it. Jason doesn't love you any longer. And your dad was right. Even if someone loves you, when they find out who you're related to, they will instantly stop loving you.

The Joker was right.

So you got up and shamefully left the cave, and once you reached the manor, you can still hear Jason screaming and roaring.

You were numb. You finally got a tatste of what true love felt like, and it slipped through your fingers ever so quickly.

And now the only person you thought ever loved you would kill you if he saw you again.

So you left. You took your stuff from your- Jason's apartment and left Gotham. Now, future generations would probably read about the Joker in their history books. But not on a single page, paragraph or sentence would your name be mentioned. Because only two people in the entire world knew who you were.

One of them was your father's sworn enemies. And the other was your father's victim. One of these people, you hardly knew, but he knew who you were and still trusted you and welcomed you into his home. The other didn't know who you were. And you loved him. And you were positive he loved you too. But once he found out your identity, he loathed you. And he wanted you dead.

god damn that was long

pt 2

710 notes · View notes

illdowhatiwantthanks · 5 months ago

Text

The Pineapple (The Surprise, Part 23)

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: pregnancy times, no smut but definitely allusions to sex, nudity, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 1.7k

Summary: You're on partial bedrest to avoid preterm labor, and both you and Emily are going a little stir crazy with it.

Week 33: The Pineapple

“You’ve gotta get out of here,” you told Emily as she stood behind you in the shower, lathering your hair.

She yanked your head back gently to rinse the shampoo out, and you felt a familiar bolt of arousal shoot through your body.

“You’re not supposed to be standing for very long,” she argued. “It’ll go faster if I help”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” You shuddered as she ran her soapy hands over your shoulders, your neck, down your arms.

When she made it to your chest, you grabbed her hands and held them away from you. “You have to go.”

“Honey, just let me help you.” She rubbed her thumbs across the backs of your hands.

You threw open the shower door and pointed. “Go. You can help me with whatever else, okay? You can make me dinner and rub my feet and keep me entertained, but for the love of god, you can’t do this. I’m not supposed to get turned on.”

The shit-eating grin on Emily’s face as she stepped out of the shower made you simultaneously furious and horny.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, voice dripping with sarcasm as she toweled off. “Am I just too much for you?”

You flicked water at her and she flinched, laughing, as you went back to soaping up the rest of your body.

“You’re in the shower with me, Em. Naked. With your hands all over me. What’d you expect? I’m pregnant, not dead.”

Emily giggled and tied her robe around her waist, biting her lip. “You’re pretty when you’re mad.”

You shook your head, turning off the shower and stepping out to snatch the towel Emily held out to you.

You glared at her as you dried off. “Don’t forget that you’re not getting any either. For a long time. So you better watch it. I can’t help you if you get too turned on.”

“Well, of course not,” she observed, looping her arm through yours to support you as you walked back to the bedroom. “That’d turn you on.”

You didn’t need help walking, but ever since you’d been put on bedrest last week, Emily insisted she walk you everywhere. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so sweet.

Emily also wasn’t used to not working, and she was restless, which currently translated into… overbearing in an endearing kind of way. She pulled socks onto your feet and a sleep shirt over your head as you sat on the edge of the bed. She helped you poke your toes out of the bottoms of your maternity sweatpants, and when she was done, she planted one kiss on your baby bump and another on your forehead as she rose to her feet.

“Do you need anything?” she asked, cupping your face in her hands. “Massage? Earl grey? Pupusa run?”

You grabbed Emily’s hand and kissed her palm. “Will you just snuggle with me for a bit?”

“Twist my arm…” Her voice was sarcastic, but her smile gave her away. She crawled behind you in bed, pressing her body into yours and nuzzling her face into your neck. Emily exhaled deeply, as she always did as soon as she got comfortable with you in bed like this. You loved her little huff of breath, the way her muscles seemed to relax afterward. You were proud, honored, to be someone Emily let her guard down with, someone who made her feel safe and calm.

“You know I love you?” she whispered, her breath warm against your neck.

“Mmhm.” You were in that glorious space between waking and sleeping, warm and cozy and snuggled up with the person you loved most in the world. You could stay here forever.

“You love me, too?”

And her voice was timid, almost scared, a rarity for Emily. You rolled over so you could look her in the eyes, tracing her with your fingers. Her eyebrows, the bridge of her nose, the small wrinkles that were forming at the corners of her eyelids, the strong length of her jawbone.

“What kind of question is that?” you whispered, holding her face in your hands and running your thumbs along her cheeks. “You know I do. I love you more than anything. More than breathing. More than pupusas even.”

When Emily didn’t grin or laugh at your attempt at levity, you knew something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said softly, eyebrows furrowed, pulling Emily close to your chest. “What’s going on, huh? Talk to me.”

She let out a shaky breath, then mumbled. “I feel like you’re getting tired of me.”

If she’d looked up, she would have seen the most dumbfounded expression that had ever found its way to your face. “What!?”

“It’s just… we’ve been home together all the time for almost a week now and… I don’t know, sometimes I feel like you… like you don’t want me around.”

“Oh, honey, no,” you breathed, running your hand through her hair. “I absolutely want you around. What did I do that made you feel like that?”

She shrugged, but you insisted. “Tell me, Em.”

“Well, the other day while you were working in the office. I came to sit and work with you and you asked me to leave the room.”

“Em, baby, that’s just because you’re so cool and pretty and fun and I love having you around so much that you’re kind of a distraction when I’m trying to work. It’s not that I don’t want you there, I promise.”

Emily nodded, but still looked sad. You kissed her forehead. “I love you, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel like I didn’t want you there. I should have communicated better. Anything else?”

She buried her head in your chest and you rolled your eyes. Getting Emily to admit she had feelings was like pulling teeth sometimes. “Out with it, Emily.”

Her voice was so quiet, you had to ask her to repeat herself. “You didn’t want me in the shower with you,” she mumbled.

You giggled and cradled her head in your arms. “Aw, Em. Honey. You gotta let that go. I’m sorry we can’t shower together right now, okay? You’re just too damn sexy. I can’t handle it. Look at me, baby.”

It took a minute, but you finally got Emily to look you in the eyes, and you were amazed, as you always were, by their openness, their vulnerability. This was not a side of Emily that many people got to see, let alone comfort and heal.

“I love you. Okay? I love you so much. I love being with you. I love having you around. You are my favorite person in the universe. Got it?”

Emily nodded, and you placed a quick kiss on her lips, knowing that if you let it get any more passionate, you’d get too turned on.

“I’m having your baby for fuck’s sake,” you grumbled as Emily wrapped her arms around you, lifting her head up to place a kiss under your chin. “I wouldn’t do that for anyone else. Ever.”

Emily exhaled shakily and played with your fingers. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m feeling so insecure.”

“You’re allowed to feel insecure, honey,” you insisted. “It’s okay. I love you, alright?”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

After a few minutes, you giggled.

“What?” Emily prompted.

“Honestly, I thought maybe you were getting tired of me.”

Emily furrowed her eyebrows at you. “Why would you think that?”

You shrugged. “I work from home. And I’m so introverted. I’m used to spending a lot of time alone, so it’s no big deal. But you work with people all the time. With your friends, even. I don’t know, I thought you might be getting antsy.”

When Emily didn’t say anything, you grinned and tickled her until she squirmed. “You are getting antsy, aren’t you!?”

“It’s not you!” she protested. “I’m just used to working all the time and now I’m… a little bored? But not of you! Never of you, sweetheart.”

“Em, it’s fine,” you reassured her. “You’re allowed to have a life outside of me. Why don’t you see what JJ and Penelope are doing right now?”

Emily sat straight up and glared at you. “You’re on bedrest. How are you gonna go to the bathroom?!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you said, sarcasm rolling off your tongue. “Just pee in the bed, I guess.”

Emily threw up her hands. “I’m serious!”

“I’m serious, too!” you retorted. “Em, I will survive for a few hours without you. I can carefully hobble myself to the bathroom and back.”

She looked at you for a moment, studying you, as if making an incredibly difficult decision. “You’ll call me right away if you need anything?”

You grinned. “I will.”

Emily kissed you quickly, once on the cheek, once on the lips, then launched herself out of bed and toward the closet.

“What are you doing!?” you asked. “You haven’t even asked them yet!”

“It’s girls night,” Emily replied, peeking her head out from the open closet door. “They’re already at the bar. I just… I told them I couldn’t go, but if you’re really okay with it?” She stared at you pointedly, as if making doubly sure you were okay with her leaving.

“Go!” you said, throwing a pillow at her. “Have fun!”

She emerged from the closet in a classic black dress with a neckline that would have driven you crazy if you were allowed to be driven crazy right now.

“Jesus,” you said, biting your lip and looking her over. “You’re not making it easy for me, you know that?”

She leaned over to kiss you, just deeply enough to leave you wanting more. “Enjoy your alone time, honey,” she said, winking at you.

You opened your mouth to protest, but she stopped you with another kiss. “No matter what you say, I know you love being alone. Call me if you need anything, okay? Anything.”

“I will,” you said, squeezing her hand before she walked to the door. “Hey, Em?”

She turned to look at you, and you could’ve stared at her forever. If you could have freeze-framed the moment, you would have done it. Those wide eyes, trusting and hopeful and so, so in love with you. “I love you,” you told her. “More than alone time.”

“I love you, too, honey. Be safe.”

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 7 months ago

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He's My Man (Part 5)

Summary: Russell's taken care of the reader's problem but things take a turn and the happy couple may not be so happy after all...

Masterlist

Pairing: Russell Shaw x reader

Word Count: 6,300ish

Warnings: language, gun shot injury/past drugging/brief mention of attempted assault (not shown) mention, angst, fluff, smut, stalker, murder, self-worth issues

A/N: Thank you all for taking this journey with me with writing this new character! I might return to this world someday but until then, please enjoy the finale!

__________

When you pulled up to the dark house, you noticed Russell’s car had been pulled into the garage and covered with a tarp. You swallowed as you pulled in beside it, biting back bile when Owen parked right behind you, preventing any escape if it came to that. You’d given Russell nearly thirty minutes notice to prepare. You really hoped whatever he had planned was going to be over with fast.

“Fuck,” said Owen, dashing from his car in the downpour to inside the garage. He shook himself off like a dog and pulled off his baseball cap. You’d seen the gash on his forehead before but from the overhead light, a skull fracture was very visible. The dried blood had matted into his thick hair and, along with the other injuries, made him look half-dead.

“Why don’t you go relax inside, honey?” you forced out when you exited, slamming the door shut loudly, hoping Russell picked up on the fact you were here. “I’ll get the bags and then I’ll take a look at those cuts.”

“Thanks, baby. Don’t take too long.” You didn’t like how he kept saying that. He’d hung off of you at the store. Even if he wasn’t a raging psycho, personal space was still a thing.

You pretended to fuss about at the trunk as he went in the door from the garage to the house. It was quiet for a beat, your gaze locked on the open door in the corner.

Two quick shots rang out and you hit the cement floor hard. Nothing could be heard over the rain, your heart hammering away in your chest. Russell wouldn’t have shot Owen, would he? No, Russell would have snuck up on him, taken him out before he knew what hit him.

So had Owen been shooting? Was Russell hurt? You slowly sat up on your hands and knees, crawling along the side of the car until you reached the hood. You peaked your head around the corner and saw a pair of legs lying on the ground through the open door. It looked like Owen so you carefully rose, flinching when Russell came bounding in from behind you.

He held up his hands, your eyes widening at the blood staining his crisp white tee.

“What-”

“My stitches tore,” he said, turning his bicep towards you, the blood staining underneath the bandage. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, glancing back inside to where the body lay motionless. “Did you kill him?”

“Not yet,” said Russell, inching past you towards a work bench. “Although he did shoot my fucking front door. Do you have any idea how much a custom mahogany door costs? I might kill him for that alone.”

Russell opened a drawer, taking out duct tape and zip ties. He slammed it shut, pausing with his back to you.

“He’s not going to leave you alone if I let him live.”

“I know. He’s been following me for awhile I guess,” you said.

“I can frame him for Elpine’s murder if you don’t want me to kill him.” You leaned back against your car, Russell setting the items on the bench and joining you. “I don’t have to…you know.”

“How are you going to kill him?” you asked after a moment.

“Bag over the head. He’s passed out. He wouldn’t even feel it. Are you sure that’s what-” You went to his workbench and ripped off a garbage bag from the roll, Russell closing his eyes. “Y/N, you should stay out here. Let me do this.”

“Owen started slipping roofies into my drinks when I was fifteen.” His head snapped up as you sighed. “He drugged me twice but nothing happened because my dad was around. I had to be more careful once dad started to lose it. Owen’s a good decade older than me I’m sure you noticed. I’ve been scared of this guy for too long. I’m not asking you to kill him. I’m asking you to show me how to do this myself.”

“I appreciate how strong you are but I’m doing it,” he said, taking the bag from you. You dropped your hand, frowning up at him. He sighed, stroking your cheek with his clean hand. “Your soul has enough scars for a lifetime. Don’t add more.”

“You don’t have to kill someone for me, Russell. You don’t need that on you either. Look what you’ve already done.”

“I won’t lose any sleep over him. You can do something for me though.” You sighed, nodding once. “Go back to the store and buy some extra large garbage bags and some duct tape, got it?”

“Um, yeah. Are you-”

“Y/N. We’re on the clock. We’ll talk later,” he said, kissing your temple. “Now go.”

Three Hours Later

“To be perfectly clear, I’m doing this for Y/N, not you,” said Colter with a coldness you didn’t love. You knew Russell’s relationship with his little brother was strained but you’d thought it had gotten better over the past few days.

“Yeah, well it don’t take a genius to see you like her better,” said Russell, Colter rolling his eyes, an uncharacteristic move. “I’ll never ask you for a thing again. You never even have to speak to me. Think what you want about me. Just please do this for Y/N’s sake.”

“I already…” huffed Colter when you side eyed him with narrowed eyes. He let out a slow exhale. “Fine. You owe me, Russell. Big.”

“Colter,” you said, nodding towards his truck. You left Russell as he went back to taping the large cooler in the garage shut. You assumed he’d put Owen inside and cleaned up while you were gone at the store. The rain had paused momentarily but there was another batch of storms coming through soon. You sighed as you stopped next to the younger Shaw, Colter crossing his arms. “I’m not letting you do this. I know Russell asked but I can’t let you move a body for me.”

He narrowed his eyes, face turning into a scowl.

“I’m not moving…Russell!” Russ’ head popped up, Colter becoming increasingly annoyed. “Tell me what is going on right now or I swear you and me are done. Forever.”

Russell sighed, throwing his head back. “I may have lied about the Y/N wanting to tag along with you so she can tidy up her place in Virginia.”

“You what?” you asked, storming over to him. “You were trying to pawn me off on Colter again? For what! Owen’s dead, there’s no one left to bother me.”

“Sweetie,” said Russell, closing his eyes. “Owen should not have made it out alive and the fact he did isn’t good.”

Slowly Russell met your gaze, ignoring Colter behind you. “So is this how it’s going to be? Any time everything’s not perfect you’re going to drop me on your brothers doorstep at the drop of a hat? News flash, Colter isn’t my babysitter. I’m a grown woman who has seen and handled more crap than you know. I thought you didn’t think of me as a damsel.”

“I don’t but-”

“But you don’t want me around for the hard stuff. I got the message.”

“Y/N, someone else could still be left. They could kill you-” You held up your hand, Colter heading back to his truck to give you some space.

“I think I finally understand how you’re so perfect but alone. You live this life like you’re this happy go lucky guy but it’s a mask. All you actually see is the dark side of it. Of everything. You are more than happy to step into my dark side but you won’t let me see yours? You wouldn’t let me kill Owen. You won’t let me help clean it up. Even when it’s because of me. You have to always be the hero. Honestly, thinking about it, it’s been all my shit we’ve talked about. All you say is your got a dark past but you haven’t shared diddly squat. Is this how it’s going to be Russell? Because frankly, I want more than that. I told you I don’t need you to do things for me, I just need you to help me do them.”

Russell swallowed, face going stoic. “Maybe this was a mistake.”

Your heart dropped like a rock into the pit of your stomach, Russell’s jaw clenching. “You should pack up your stuff here and go with Colter. Go back to Virginia. You’re probably right. This was just attraction, plain and simple.”

“Russell, that’s not what I was saying-”

“Yeah, it was. Just go. Please. I’ll deal with Owen. Just go back to Virginia and start your life over away from people like us.” With that he brushed past you for Colter, ignoring his repeated calls.

“Asshole,” you mumbled as you went inside and shoved the few belongings that weren’t in the trunk of your car into a bag. You very purposefully left every pair of underwear, bra and pajamas he’d bought you behind. The cheap sports bra and cotton underwear you’d bought earlier would get you through until you were home.

If that’s how Russell wanted to end things, fine. You were free of the mafia. Free of guys with fucked up pasts. Your options were limitless.

And thank god Colter was smart enough to not ask about your red rimmed eyes by the time you were on the road.

Five Days Later

You gave Colter a wave from your front step as he drove off down the street. It’d taken only two days to drive cross country this time. Apparently you drove faster when you were upset. Or you didn’t sleep as much. Either way, Colter didn’t ask and was happy to get to Virginia where he had a missing accountant to find.

He used your kitchen as a base of operations and you let him crash in the guest room. In exchange, Colter got you hooked up with the basics of reward work. There were some extra perils to the job being a woman but also advantages that Colter didn’t have. He went over finding jobs, finding a team, learning how to get access to tools and databases. You didn’t have a lot of confidence in going after a full fledged disappearance yet but Colter mentioned it wasn’t always people that were what was missing.

By the end of his short stay, you had information overload but were grateful for the chance to start doing something good for once in your life.

Meanwhile, Russell hadn’t reached out once. You had to assume he’d disposed of Owen. You weren’t sure why you were still waiting for a text or a call. It was pretty clear things were over. Russell was too protective and you weren’t going to let another man tell you what to do again.

Yet, you knew you were at fault too. Russell had just killed a guy in his house for you and he knew a hell lot more about getting away with a murder than you did. Russell had points for not wanting to involve you. And you had to be an asshole and pressure him for more when there was literally a dead body at your feet.

“I’m an idiot,” you groaned, leaning against the kitchen island with your head lowered. “Why did I do that?”

The doorbell rang, your head slowly rising. You sighed as you went to it, pulling it open quickly.

“Did you forget-” You cut yourself off when you didn’t see Colter standing there. No, instead stood Russell in a trim black suit, his hair slicked back and a bouquet of orange and red flowers in his hands. “Russ? What-”

“Let me get this out and then I’ll get out of your life forever if that’s what you want,” he said. You leaned against the door jam, Russell taking a deep breath. “Y/N, I like you. A lot. Too much probably for how long we’ve known each other. Everything you said was right. I avoid my problems because it’s a hell of a lot easier to fix someone else’s in my experience.”

He swallowed, glancing at his feet. “Owen could have hurt you at that store. He could have taken you, shown up at the house and killed you. I fucked up and you don’t seem to understand that Owen’s obsession and how fucking smart you are is the only reason we’re still here and he’s not. I told you I took care of it and I didn’t. I was angry at myself and wanted you somewhere safer than with me so I pushed your buttons on purpose. I lied on purpose so you’d get mad and leave with Colter. You deserve a good man and I’m not him. I kill people. I use sex as a way to be close to women but then never let myself be in a relationship because I don’t want them to see beneath the surface and see the shit that’s in there. I want better for you than me.”

Russell looked up, a tiny smile forming on his face. “Can we try being friends again and maybe I can become that man that deserves you along the way?��

“Russell,” you sighed. You stepped forward, cupping his cheeks, green eyes full of caution. “We can be friends. I’d like it if we were more than that, though.”

He slowly smiled, his lip ticking up when you stroked his cheek.

“I’m sorry for jumping down your throat. You do not have to share your deepest darkest secrets with me, never mind the first day we’re actually together. That was unfair of me. I just want you to know you can share them with me if you want to.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Y/N,” he said softly. “Dozens. Some of them, most of them, I never gave two shits about. No nightmares. No trauma. That’s not normal. It’s been years since I’ve felt all that bad about killing.”

“You don’t need to feel bad about killing monsters,” you said. He closed his eyes and you leaned in, kissing his forehead. “S’that why you didn’t want me to kill Owen?”

“Moral and practical reasons,” he whispered. “I don’t kill out of revenge. I don’t think I ever have. It always has another purpose. Protect someone, protect a group or the general public from a threat. Some psych told me once that’s why I don’t struggle as much with what I’ve done as some other folks. The way I grew up helped me with that. But I do struggle with it still and you’ve struggled enough. You don’t need that on you.”

“I understand. I’m so used to being controlled and told what to do…I can never go back to that.”

“You never will,” he said, opening his eyes. You tilted your head, Russell turned into your touch to match. “I’m sure I’ll fuck things up again. We can be friends if that’s all you ever want.”

“I don’t want to be just friends. So what if we fight? That’s what couples do.” You took his hand in yours and the flowers in the other, leading him inside behind you.

“I quit my job a few days ago.” You froze, spinning around on your heels. He shrugged, still holding your hand. “I can’t change my life without making some changes.”

“You still want to do that home brew for a career?”

“Yeah. I’d like to give it a shot.” He spotted the stacks of papers on your kitchen table and open computer. “Colter offer you a spot on his team?”

“He did at first but I want to try doing it my way, stop patching up the bad guys and doing something good. He warned me it can be dangerous work though, especially as a woman flying solo.”

“He makes very good points,” said Russell, thumbing at your lip when you smiled. “What’s that look for?”

“Maybe you could be on my team sometimes, show me a few moves from the expert.” You started to walk backwards towards your bedroom, Russell’s eyebrows raising. “If you want to.”

“I’ll show you any kind of moves you’d like, qark.” He held his ground though, stopping you in place. You waited for the but to come, for him to push back on getting back together. Instead, he took the flowers from your hand and went into your kitchen, finding a tall glass and filling it with water. He set the flowers on the island before rejoining you, resting his hands on your hips. “I like the idea of working together as partners.”

“But…” you said, Russell kissing the top of your head.

“But you are far too kind, my queen of darkness. I was expecting to get told to get lost tonight and I have plans I can’t get out of with my friends very shortly.”

“Oh,” you said, Russell’s finger tips finding the ends of your hair and playing with a few strands. “If you have plans, we can meet up another-”

“You want to know my dark side?” Your eyes flicked to meet his, your head nodding once. “You can’t unknow what kind of man I am once you do. I don’t blame you if you change your mind about me.”

“I want to know you. All of you.” He closed his eyes and nodded.

“Go change into something discreet. Dark clothes. Leave your phone home. If at any point you want to leave, say so and I bring you right back here, understand?” You nodded, Russell backing away. “Mind if I change in your bathroom?”

“You can change in the bedroom with me.” He smirked but backed away.

“Another time. We have an appointment to keep.”

“Where are we going?” you asked, Russell glancing away.

“Don’t be mad but we need to pay Owen a visit.”

Twenty minutes later you quietly followed Russell into what looked like a decommission warehouse that should have been torn down a decade ago. The building was pitch black apart from the single light coming from the end of a hallway. You stuck behind Russell as you entered the room, stopping when you found six different men and a woman inside, most carrying a weapon on their hip or tucked into their jeans from what you could tell.

And smack in the center of the room tied to a chair was Owen very much still alive. Although…alive was being generous. He didn’t look more injured than when you’d last seen him but his color was off and his eyes were red and puffy. He wasn’t even angry when he saw you, just…scared.

“He behave while I was gone?” asked Russell to a man and woman nearby.

“Tried bribing Doug and then all of us to let him go,” said the woman. She gave Owen a nasty look before turning gentle as she looked towards Russell. “I think you scared the poor boy, Shaw.”

“Oh, who’s afraid of little old me?” said Russell, giving Owen a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “So. Owen, my friends. Friends, Owen. You’re already acquainted with Y/N.”

Owen’s gaze flickered to you when Russell grabbed a chair from the wall and sat it a few feet away from Owen, facing him. Russell sat down slowly, nodding when you moved closer so you could see both their faces.

“Why’s he still alive?” you asked quietly. Owen’s eyes widened, Russell tsking him.

“On me, big guy,” said Russell, snapping his fingers, Owen reluctantly looking at him. “You got some options. Prison. You die very quickly. Or…me and my friends can make sure you die very slowly. Your choice.”

“Why didn’t you kill him yet?” you asked again. Russell sighed, glancing down. “Russell.”

“There were some things that never sat right with me that I wanted answers to. The stuff with your family’s accident and your dad’s paranoia, him attacking you. I had a paranoid father too. I know the signs, know that they want to protect us in their own way. The coincidence of meeting someone just like me was too high so I started to dig. You mentioned Owen’s drugged you a few times in the past and tried to hurt you.”

“Yeah…I’m not following,” you said. Russell stood slowly, staring down Owen like a predator with it’s prey firmly caught in a trap.

“I figured if he drugged you, who else had he slipped something to? What good man, good doctor, could a prescription drug running family slip into his drinks? The more I researched, the more my friends helped, the more we found.” Russell clenched his fists by his side, knuckles turning white. “Should I tell her Owen? Or do you have the balls to tell her yourself?”

Russell ripped off the tape over his mouth, Owen wincing as he breathed deeply. Russell was on him like that, grabbing his throat, not squeezing but adding enough pressure that it was going to be uncomfortable. “I told you to talk, you sack of shit.”

“Y/N, this guys is lying. I never did anything to you!” Russell’s jaw clenched and you watched him squeeze, only backing off when you laid a gentle hand on Russell’s shoulder.

“He’s psycho!” said Owen, Russell backing up a step. You looked up to him, Russell’s face unreadable. “Y/N, baby-”

“Shut the fuck up before I stab you in your spine,” you said. Owen’s jaw snapped shut, a flicker of something in Russell’s eyes. Pride? Amusement? It quickly flittered away, replaced with worry when you held out a hand. “Can I have your knife?”

Russell slowly took it out of his pocket, handing the engraved handle out to you. You flicked it open and took a seat in the chair, holding it pointed down at the concrete floor.

“Owen. Tell me the truth and I won’t kill you. I swear. But I can get the answers from you if you don’t cooperate. Don’t make me get my boyfriend’s knife bloody.”

You heard a muttered damn from someone behind you, your focus on Owen. He sagged in his seat and closed his eyes.

“Our old fixer wanted out, wanted to go to the feds so my dad had him killed. I was eighteen and he told me to start earning my place as successor. He told me to find a new fixer. Your dad was one of the best doctors in the city. Things were…arranged. Two weeks later we-”

Russell smacked the back of his head. Hard. Owen grunted, shaking it out.

“Two weeks later I…put a hit on your family. Your mom and brother specifically. We only needed one kid to survive and I thought a girl would be easier to control. I started drugging your father that night with antipsychotics to create paranoia,” said Owen, his head hanging low. “I orchestrated the whole thing. We fed him the drugs for years, it made him stay close if not a little extreme. It kept taking more though.”

“Do. Not. Skip. Ahead,” growled Russell, grabbing a fistful of Owen’s shirt.

“O-okay. I-I…I started thinking about how to get your dad to stick around once you grew up and you were pretty and smart and I thought you’d be happy with me.”

“How old was she when you decided this?” barked Russell. Owen whimpered, trying to curl in on himself. “Fifteen you disgusting waste of space.”

“You started drugging me then,” you said. Owen shook his head.

“Not with that stuff. Just roofies. But not enough for you to be completely out of it. Your dad started keeping a closer eye on you and I tried waiting for you to come around on your own but it was so hard when you went away to college. I knew I couldn’t let you run off like that again so…” Owen’s shoulders shook, mouth snapping shut.

“So you roofied her, attacked her and she fought back. Her father protected her and you fucking killed him for it. Your dear old daddy found what you’d done and wasn’t happy, was he? He covered up your murder and blamed her father knowing Y/N wouldn’t remember a thing. Y/N was forced to go to med school and learn crap she didn’t want to all while daddy had you banished away from her. You tried to keep tabs on her but it wasn’t until dad died that you could finally take Y/N like you wanted. It’s pure fucking luck I showed up when I did to make sure that didn’t happen. Would you like to tell Y/N about the fucking padded door locks and bars on the window in her old room back at the house? About your plans for her?”

Russell grabbed Owen’s hair, forcing his head up. Owen was trembling, whispering apologies and saying how he didn’t mean it, over and over.

“So…you killed my family…and tried to assault me more than once over the years…and were planning on keeping me as a…pet in the house until I magically fell in love with you. I think that sums it up,” you said. You stood up, handing Russell his knife. “I’m not going to kill him.”

“Thank you,” sighed Owen in relief. “Thank you. I-I knew you’d be able to forgive me-”

“Oh, I don’t forgive you and I wouldn’t be thanking me,” you said, smiling up at Russell. ““Papa Elpine and a few guys made it out I heard. Bobby was his favorite son, right?”

“Y/N! I killed Bobby! They’ll-” Russell shoved some tape over his mouth and hummed.

You crossed your arms, Russell tilting his head at you. “You know they’re going to torture Owen to death.”

“I said I wouldn’t hurt him and I’m keeping my word,” you said, Owen shouting under the tape. “I’d tell you to confess but Elpine’s connected. He’d just have you killed in prison. So. Elpine it is.”

“You sure?” asked Russell. You pursed your lips, Owen pleading with his eyes. Everything in you wanted to say yes, let him get what he had coming.

So why couldn’t you say it?

You looked to Russell, nodding. “Get rid of him, please,” you mouthed.

“Look away,” said Russell. You turned around, Owen panting hard before there was a loud crack and the room was still. Russell’s hand found your shoulder, rubbing it softly. “We took care of Elpine’s guys. You know that.”

“I just wanted him to be as scared as I’ve been. I-I just…why’d it have to be my family?” You found his face, Russell smiling sadly.

“I’ve asked myself that question a lot over the years. Best I came up with is you got to try and let it go. The world’s good and bad and that’s all there is to it.” He wrapped his arm over your shoulder, walking you towards the door. You nearly looked back but he blocked you with his body. “No. He’s gone for good, you don’t need to give him anything more. I’m sorry for not killing him back in Washington. I just thought you deserved the truth. Your dad was a good man.”

“Thank you,” you said, closing your eyes. “I wish I realized that sooner.”

“Come on,” he said, walking you out to the hallway. “Let’s get you home.”

One Month Later

You smiled from your chair when Russell let out a single tiny snore from the couch across from you. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the past few days and honestly, it was kind of adorable the way this incredibly dangerous man made the cutest cooing noises while he slept.

“You’re staring at me,” he mumbled without opening his eyes a few minutes later. You looked around, holding up a finger. “I can feel you watching, like a creeper.”

“Well, you make these cute sounds when you sleep,” you said. He smirked, slowly flicking his lazy eyes open.

“And who’s fault is it that I haven’t been sleeping, hm?” You shrugged and slid down in your chair with your book, grinning behind the pages. “I can see that smile, you know that?”

“Don’t blame me for the amazing orgasms you give,” you said, flicking your eyes over the top of the book, Russell propping himself up on his elbows with a predatory gaze. “Down boy. Later.”

“You better,” he said, plopping back with a huff. “Remind me to never help Frank with a favor ever again.”

“Frank helped you with Owen,” you reminded him. Russell scoffed.

“All he did with Owen was stand there and look scary. I didn’t make him build a fucking deck in the pacific northwest in forty degree weather.”

“Aw, is baby boy cranky?” you teased. He growled, playfully tossing his pillow at you. “You guys should wrap up tomorrow, right?”

“That’s the plan. Then I’m going back to waking up at a humane hour,” he said, forcing himself to sit up and stretch out with a few grunts. “How long was I out?”

“About an hour and a half. You needed it,” you said, flipping a page. Russell glanced over to the dining table, taking in the decorated spread.

“You set a place for Colter?” he asked.

“Yes…right next to Dory’s,” you said, closing your book and setting it aside. “You still think he won’t come?”

“He’s not the kind of guy to come to a housewarming party. Especially his brother’s housewarming party. We still haven’t talked since…”

“I know,” you said, standing and pulling him to his feet. He was still sleepy as you ruffled his hair, Russell turning into the touch. “I’m excited to meet your friends and family properly.”

“They want to know all about you, that’s for sure,” he chuckled. “You can’t imagine the amount of shit they’ve given me after I said I’d never settle down.”

“I moved in a week ago. We’re a ways from settling down,” you said. He titled his head, smiling at you. “Don’t give me that face.”

“What face?” he teased, leaning in close, dipping his head, kissing under your jaw.

“Shaw! Do not give me a hickey! I do not want them seeing-” You sucked in a breath, brain going fuzzy when he nipped at the soft flesh.

“Too bad, qark. If I have to have hickeys all over my neck then so do you,” he said, suckling the skin. A buzzer went off in the kitchen and he groaned when you slipped away so the rolls wouldn’t burn. “Y/N…”

“Saved by the bell,” you said, taking out the pan and leaving them to cool off. Russell was by your side quickly, hands on your hips so you couldn’t escape. “Okay. How about you can give me as many hickeys as you want later if you’re a good boy this afternoon?”

“Hm, I do like being your good boy,” he said, squeezing your hips. “Deal.”

“Good. Where do you keep-“

The doorbell trilled, your heads turning towards the front windows. A familiar pickup truck was out front, Russell raising his eyebrows. You nodded for the door, Russell cautious as he answered. Colter stood on the front porch with an awkward forced smile and a pink box.

“I uh, picked up some dessert for dinner later,” he said offering the box. Russell took it, setting it aside on the front table. “You going to invite me in?”

“I thought you…” Russell shook his head and opened the door wider, letting his younger brother inside. Colter gave you a brief smile before clearing his throat.

“I uh, can help you get ready or cook. I just…last time we talked Russell…”

You smiled to yourself when Russell closed the gap between them, giving Colter a strong embrace. “Let's leave that shit behind us. Thanks for coming, Colt.”

“Yeah,” said Colter, returning it for a moment before the boys broke apart. “How’s the girlfriend situation working out for you?”

“I’m telling you man, find the right girl, you’ll never want to go back to being a loner,” said Russell, giving you a smirk. “They do come with a lot of rules though, fair warning.”

“I asked you to put the toilet seat down, Shaw,” you chided.

“Like I said, rules,” teased Russell. You picked up a knife by your cutting board, narrowing your eyes. “We should help before she starts using that on us.”

“Yes you should,” you said, Colter shrugging out of his jacket and boots, joining your side after washing up. “Can you cut up the veggies into strips?”

“Can do,” he said, swapping places with you. You smiled when Russell took the dessert box and started to arrange the treats on a platter over on the dinning table. “I’d like to apologize for my behavior the last time we were all here.”

You frowned as you peeled a bag of potatoes into a bowl. “You mean when I lost my cool on Russell? You have nothing to apologize for Colter. We were asking you for a favor. Again. I’m honestly surprised you don’t hate me. I know you value your alone time.”

Colter was quiet, chopping neatly and pushing the scraps into a discard bowl. “Did Russell ever tell you how he got that gunshot he went to you for in the first place?”

“Someone kidnapped Doug. He went to save him.”

“Did you know I helped him with that?” You shook your head, setting the peeler down. Colter had stopped dicing, a barely there smile crossing his face. “If it weren’t for my brother asking for my help with his friends, I’m not sure we ever would have spoke again.”

“I know there’s a complicated history there.” He hummed, watching Russell across the room. “It means a lot to him that you’re trying too.”

“S’all we can do is try, right?” he said, going back to his cutting. “So. My brother is clearly head over heels. What about you? Should I expect a wedding invitation soon?”

“Uh, no,” you said, laughing to yourself. “We’re certainly not traditional but we’re nowhere near ready for that. We’ll see how living together goes for awhile before we talk about anything like long term plans.”

“Yet you moved in already.” You rolled your eyes. “Just an observation.”

“For convenience sake. Russ is looking into land for the brewery around here since he left his job and apartments in town are limited.”

“Right. I’m sure that’s it. Silly me,” he said. You held up your peeler to him, Colter raising his hands. “Russ, I think I broke one of your girlfriend’s rules.”

“It was nice knowing ya,” said Russell with a chuckle. “Give him a swift death for me, qark.”

“Qark?” asked Colter as you turned your attention to the potatoes.

“Queen of darkness. Now hurry up with those so you and Russ can have some alone time before dinner.”

Six Hours Later

“This is going well,” said Russell to you in the kitchen as laughed and a smoky scent filtered in from the back porch. “Everyone really likes you.”

“I suppose I have met them all before, except for Dory. She’s such a sweetheart. I don’t know what I was expecting but-”

“She was much younger than us when our dad died. After she went to live with our aunt and uncle. She’s tough but normal in a way Colter and I won’t ever…” You rubbed his back, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close. “Did you like, drug him? Or bribe him? I seriously can’t believe he’s still here let alone came.”

“Of course he came. No matter what’s happened in the past, he loves his big brother.” Russell tucked you into his side, smiling when you rested your head on his shoulder. “I found a job in Wyoming. Missing prized show dog. I was going to head out in the morning, see if I’m any good at this.”

“You’ll be wonderful,” he said, kissing the top of your head. “Be safe though.”

“I will be.” You turned in his hold to face him, wrapping your arms around his back in a hug. “It’s been a long time since anyone cared if I was safe. It’s nice. This weird little family you have is…I’m jealous to be honest.”

“You shouldn’t be. It’s yours too.” You raised your eyebrows, Russell raising his own, eyes going wide. “No! No, I don’t mean like, officially yours. Like metaphorically. I’m not ready for anything official. Someday but so not right now.”

“Me either,” you said, the tension running out of his face. “I want to know who we are without our old jobs, how to be a happy queen of darkness.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” he said. “Speaking of which, I got you a present for helping organize all of this and cooking for ten people after literally just moving cross country. I know it was stressful so I wanted to make it up to you.”

“I don’t need a present, Russ,” you said, a sneaky smile forming on his face. “Oh. This is a present for the both of us.”

“I got you a new pair of jammies, the lilac set this time,” he said. Russell’s smile grew as yours did, his arms lifting you off the ground, bringing you to eye level. “You deserve all the good things in life, qark.”

“I think we got something pretty good starting right here,” you said, kissing him once, Russell humming.

“I couldn’t agree more, baby. Couldn’t agree more.”

__________

#Russell Shaw #Russell Shaw x reader #Russell Shaw x you #Russell Shaw Fanfic #Tracker #Tracker Fanfic #Russell Shaw Fanfiction #russell shaw fic #Russell Shaw x female!reader #Jensen Ackles #colter shaw #fanfic

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aratribow · 9 months ago

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What would happen if yanqing died.

I need more angst about Yanqing and jing yuan pls

AHHHHH I ACTUALLY HAVE SO MANY YQ MCD WIPS? That my lazy ass never completed..

But I present you ONE polished thingy. (Don't mind me adding in a ship as well ^^)

An au where Kafka was a bit too late with the spirit whisper, where Jing Yuan was a bit too late to save Yanqing from the shard sword aimed for his chest.

Ps: Yanqing is a bio renjing child here, but Ren didn't know about his existence because he left to get milk and never came back. ^^

Warning: Yanqing MCD

The sun sets, the bird ceases its song, and the lion mourns: (title suggested by @itsredpaint )

He distantly watched as the window curtains flew with the breeze, a chill so familiar. Lying motionless in the assigned bed at the alchemy commission, Jing Yuan felt numb; if the scratchy material of the sheets felt mildly prickly – then he couldn't tell. His barely taken breaths, the only sign of his survival.

There's nothing left.

The momentary fragile trust that took everything, for just a fraction, was broken on a whim.

Another loved one lost to the winds, too young and tender for the graves, too young and tender to wonder if even the ashes will remain.

Jing Yuan was supposed to die there, die at the hands of the Lord Ravager, he had everything prepared beforehand, so why. He was not supposed to be stranded on the mortal world with nothing left of his own, he had already lost plenty, what more was there to lose anymore.

For the moment, he couldn't even recognize if the dull throbbing pain from his chest was entirely the work of Cloud Piercer or not. The lingering remains of Destruction still pulsing through his chi didn't help either.

In the quiet solitude of the night, Jing Yuan's harsh breaths kept him up, the ragged pathetic sound so bitterly familiar.

If he was just a little bit faster…just a little bit faster to save the only sun left in his life.

(The other sun had already been lost to the stars, with nothing left of her other than the telltale bravery of her ill fated luck sewed into the few remaining strands of her lilac hair.)

With a bated breath, he realised that he would never see his retainer again. He would never get to see his dust blonde hair, which, despite being deftly tied up in a high ponytail, always ended up covered in dirt from the spars. The way it gleamed with a gentle sheen of gold whenever Jing Yuan combed through the knotted strands of his freshly dried hair after a long day of work, the action soothing his nerves into a pleasant buzz of tranquillity with Yanqing nodding off on his shoulder. He would never get to see the vivid shade of molten gold in his eyes either, which would crinkle at the edges with a beaming smile at the mention of a favoured sword.

People around General Jing Yuan always remarked as to how his retainer's eyes completely resembled his own, he wondered why, for he always thought that if there was someone who could rival the Sun, it would be Yanqing. not anymore, though

Confined in the cage of his short-sighted immortality, the Divine Foresight mourned. Could he have saved his disciple, his lieutenant, his retainer, his son if only he hadn't undermined the play orchestrated by fate itself? If only he hadn't trusted his life with the phantom of a man once loved and cherished.

Seeing nothing but the blurry lines of the ceiling, he dared not to blink as he let the tears cascade down by themselves, framing his face in a warmth he could only ever dream of now.

Despite being consumed by the guilt of failing yet another, he did not fail to discern the presence that breached the privacy of the room. If not for the silent footfalls, then for the tenseness permeating from the body.

He blinked once, twice.

"He was your son, too." Jing Yuan said, voice barely audible, barely held together against the lump in his throat, threatening to choke him. If not for the dead of the night, void of any activity around, the words would have been lost, blown away by the chilled breeze coming in through the windows.

With eyes still focused on the ceiling, he noticed the body wince in his periphery.

Jing Yuan never thought that it would come to this, but now? Now he wanted this person to mourn alongside him, to share the pain that tore his barely beating heart out and reduced it to shreds. But perhaps it was even more foolish of him to think that Ren would care.

If he had, he wouldn't had left, not when Jing Yuan needed him the most, not when Jing Yuan missed him so bad it hurt, a tender wound damaged again and again with no respite, with no chance to heal, to the point where Jing Yuan felt the kindling fire die within him…and he let it.

The only time he dared to show face was to kill their son, to take away the only light left in Jng Yuan's dying world.

Because what would it matter to Ren when it was Jing Yuan who had to raise Yanqing all by himself. It would be Jing Yuan, who would ever know about Yanqing's child-like antics despite the act he proudly put up for his role as a lieutenant.

It would be Jing Yuan who would remember his pleading eyes at barely the end of the month, and despite the visible disapproval he would still fulfil the wishes, just to see a triumphant smile grace his son's face for winning a war that didn't exist in the first place.

It would be Jing Yuan who would cherish his joy at the agreement of eating outside at a favourite restaurant, relishing in the simplicity of it. It would be Jing Yuan who would know of his boundless determination, his passion, his courage to overcome obstacles at such an early age, his dream of becoming the sword champion...that would remain a dream in itself.

Perhaps…if he had kept him away from the ruthless reality, and if he had just provided the comfort of a father and not the sternness of a mentor, a General, then…perhaps-

Despite being surged by the bitter feelings, he could hardly feel it in himself to move, it seemed to further drown him within the sheets instead. Perhaps it was for the best because he couldn't tell what he wanted to do with his limbs or his body anymore. His grip on reality, failing him.

Before he could choke even further on his misery, he felt a rough bandaged hand coming to rest on his forehead – just then, he finally found his body moving as he violently recoiled against the hand. If it was the tender hand of a lover before, now, it was just the hand of a murderer that dripped with the blood of his child.

Something must have been written on his face besides the silent stream of tears, for he saw the body retreat back quicker than it came to be. He wondered if he would retreat back through the door, never to show face again, just like last time.

But Jing Yuan could care less. If Ren wished to stay for some sick godforsaken reason, just to haunt him in his last moments, then he probably should. Jing Yuan didn't have it in himself to stop him, he'd rather have that same blade plunge through his heart and seal the final deal for him.

He knew the mara wouldn't be long after this, he had lived enough already, and his son was the last straw.

"Baba.... it hurts.." Yanqing said as he had coughed out a string of viscous red that shouldn't be there, not at this age, not now.

Jing Yuan remembered the feeling of pure rage dissipating only to be replaced by unadulterated anguish instead as he collapsed to his knees beside his child. There was a gaping wound that shouldn't have been there-

No, it shouldn't have been there, and yet it was.

Yanqing had laid there, in his arms, seeping precious blood into the ruined tiles of the Dragonvista Hall. Jing Yuan recalled feeling helpless as he watched the blood gurgle from Yanqing's mouth, making it hard for him to breathe. The strength in his tender face long gone as he watched the colour receding rapidly, leaving nothing but pure fear in its wake. His son was scared, scared and he could do nothing to soothe the pain.

He used to pull his son close into his arms, secure him there and read him stories or recount tales from the past at nights Yanqing couldn't sleep. He wonders if he should have paid more attention to the beating heart against him, comforting in the constant rhythm of alive, alive, alive-

His grip on Yanqing faltered as slick blood sluggishly gushed out of the wound on his tiny body. How could someone this small lose this much blood?

Before he could’ve tried to bring his son a false sense of security, the least he could've done for his frightened child, he saw his breath even out and his eyelids flutter shut against the remaining tears streaming down his face. The tears that washed away the grime on his young face only to leave tracks of evident pain behind.

Jing Yuan couldn't do anything when yanqing slowly nudged his face into his neck, with his last remaining strength, to breathe out a final…apology.

"Baba, I'm sorry....I...failed you."

Before he could retort back to dispel the thought, (How had he failed to notice this brewing insecurity? What kind of father-) he felt the body completely slump into his arms, warmth dissipating from his body already.

Oh how he wished for the cold to be from Yanqing's frost, and not from his dying body.

He couldn't remember how long he sat there, but it must have been enough for Dan Heng to approach him and rest a (reassuring?) hand on his shoulder. He might've spoken something but Jingyuan could hear nothing over the blood boiling in his veins, over the unresponsive body in his arms, pulled close to his own to at least share a portion of his own body heat in desperate hopes of convincing himself that his son was still alive. He clutched him tightly enough to probably hurt, but hurting would have been good, it would've meant that he was still breathing.

The haze eventually cleared when he felt the dam finally break in its wake.

Jing Yuan swayed forward into his lap with his hands covering his face, hiding himself from the world, from himself, and from him. He heard a loud whimper before registering an inhumane cry of pure agony, not realising that the sound was torn out from himself.

He wanted to slam his fist into the mattress, feel the wooden frame of the bed break underneath his hands. He needed to let out the pain somehow, but he could find no purchase when he felt a pair of hands firmly, yet gently, remove his tightly clenched fingers clutching the bunched up sheets. He felt bitterly vulnerable as he struggled against the firm hold, pushing him back down onto the bed, the rough material of the bandage grating against his wrists. He cried out at the cruelty that denied him the simple notion of curling in on himself, the need in his body to clutch something, someone close against him growing stronger by the second. What more could Ren want from him?

"LEAVE!” He lashed out, sobbing with broken hiccups. He hated how exposed he felt, having nowhere to hide his face.

"Leave like you always did! Leave like you were always meant to, because leaving is the only thing you are good at-"

The words promptly got stuck in his throat though, as he distinctly felt a drop of tear hitting his face. The following whimper made Jingyuan finally turn back to gaze into Ren's contorted face, his lips pulled into a wobbling snarl with his brows tightly knit together. Ren hovered over him as gold met red and more tears struck his skin as they emerged from eyes barely kept open.

Despite a faint voice in his head urging him to wipe away tears if his past lover, Jing Yuan couldn't find it in himself to be merciful for this once. He has shown enough mercy in this lifetime, he wanted to be selfish for once.

"You killed our son, Ren. It was me who had raised him, and now it again has to be me....to see through his funeral." Jing Yuan weeped, still reeling from the onslaught of guilt. “How many more Ren? How many more?”

If Jing Yuan went overboard with his demands, then he did. The patience meticulously crafted over the years shattering in mere seconds.

He saw Ren violently wince, and it…shouldn't have been as satisfactory as it was, but he couldn't deny the cruel satisfaction of watching the murderer collapse under the realisation of his own crimes. Perhaps this is what Ren wanted to feel as well when he chased Dan Heng across the universe.

Ren finally left the hold around his wrists as he sank onto the ground to his knees, his face dejectedly pushed into the mattress, going completely still despite a hand still faintly holding onto Jing Yuan's own. If it was an apology, then Jing Yuan couldn't tell.

#aratribow #my...writing?#honkai star rail #jing yuan #hsr jing yuan #hsr blade #jingren #yanqing #jing yuan and yanqing #jing yuan is YQ'S PARENT #me @ ren: *how does it feel to kill your own kid?*#renjing with possibly no happy ending i suppose #i love yq mcd because it puts his father through another bouts of severe depression and what ifs

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tradgedyinwaves · 4 months ago

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Touch - Ch. 10

READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS!

-This chapter is very heavy, but we’ll get you home, yeah? -I’ve never written an action scene and action isn’t really my strong suit, so be kind please. -So many military inconsistencies and just overall incorrect military vocabulary. I’m sorry.

tw: hostage situation, torture, sensory deprivation, sexual harassment/abuse, battlefield type elements (ie: explosions, gunfire, little bit of murder)

Food was deposited in your cell again and while you were concerned with being poisoned, you were also starving and would be unable to fight back if you didn’t get some calories into your stomach. You ate the packaged items as you stared at the hot pasta, the granola bar turning to dust in your mouth as you grabbed the water and chugged down half of it.

You didn’t stop counting though. When you reached 190,000, two days had passed since you’d been taken. You restarted at one, using your finger to drag through the grime on the wall and create another tally just above the top of the cot. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, able to see large shapes.

Until they opened the door again and blinded you.

Despite never being able to find him before, Moses’ compound was easy to locate. Well, the one in the UK anyways. Of course, it was a trap and the 141 knew this. It was too obvious. But the issue was in finding where they were keeping you and what the actual trap was.

Another video dinged on the laptop, immediately garnering everyone’s attention as they huddled around the small screen.

The lens was dirty, being wiped clean by Moses’ sleeve. As he backed away with a wicked smile and a small knife dangling from his fingers, he revealed you behind him and your current situation. Tied to a chair, cloth in your mouth and tied around your head. That wasn’t what had the team concerned. It was the rivulets of blood that trailed from the clean, shallow cut across the front of your throat.

“You boys better hurry up. I might decide that I prefer her dead. She does look so pretty covered in her own blood.” Moses came to stand behind you, lifting your head and pulling your hair back from the wound on your neck. “Do you think they’ll come to save you, precious? I think they will. Too bad they won’t make it.” Your eyes opened wide as you found the camera, shaking your head in a panic. In your mind, if you died, they would move on. But you couldn’t bear the thought of a world without them in it. Then the screen cut to black.

“Fuck, he’s going to kill her just to get under our skin,” Johnny anquishly moaned out, his fingers pulling at the cropped mohawk on his head. Simon’s fingers slid over the other man’s, gripping them tight in his fist and pulling them away from the delicate hair. “We’ll find her and we’ll end this,” Simon grunted, looking down at the sergeant.

“Alright boys, let’s get our girl back.”

The slice to your throat stung, burning as your blood now dribbled from the wound as it dried up. You’d expected to be sent back to your cell, but was instead taken to another room. Two women stood in the back, holding garments of clothing and medical supplies as you were shoved into the room and the door locked behind you.

They were silent as they cleaned you up, getting a bandage on your throat and unzipping your pretty dress just to shove you into a scratchy beige shirt and black cargo pants. Ones that matched every other person you’d seen in this camp. They wanted you to blend in, harder to find that way, you supposed.

When the door opened again, it was Moses. Leering at you as he came to circle your weak body, hand on his chin with the other on his elbow as he inspected you. “You clean up so nicely, my dear. Though I will miss that pretty dress of yours, made these look oh so delectable,” his words only cut through the static in your head when his hands groped your breasts from behind. Your elbow then met his ribs only for his fist to come down on the back of your neck and force you to your knees.

“Little bitch thinks she can fight,” your captor growled, lifting your chin just to let his fist collide with your temple. Two more hits to the side of the face and you finally crumpled on the ground as he dusted off his pants and made for the door. “Leave her here. She can die with her beloved boys,” he commanded the other women, who scurried behind him as he sneered down at you before slamming and locking the door.

At least, you could see where you were now as you started counting again.

The sky was dark, not a star in sight as the clouds covered them with their looming grayness. Coming up from the back of the compound, they split into three groups; Price with Johnny, Simon with Kyle, and the third team of specialists to extract Moses. It was quiet and they were silent as they took down the scattered guards.

With the path cleared, Ghost and Kyle slipped into the darkness where intel told them the cells were. Price and Johnny disappeared into another building that could possibly be holding you, while the third team slipped out into the darkness in search of Moses.

That’s when the first boom rocked the earth. “Bravo-6, do you copy?” Simon’s hushed whispers filled the silence of the cell they were standing in. “Soap, the hell was that?” Price’s voice cut through the static of their radios. “Detonation. He’s going to blow the compound with us in it.”

Another boom rocked the ceiling and then the entrance to the cells collapsed with Simon and Kyle inside. Coms were suddenly cut as the building Price and Johnny were in shuddered with another boom.

You felt it too and were suddenly very much aware that you needed to get up and try to get out. You tried the door, tugging on it but of course, it was locked. You started banging on it when the next boom came and you wondered how many buildings had been taken out already as the one you were in shuddered and a wall blew out next to you. Taking a few deep breaths to calm yourself, you scurried out the hole the explosion created and headed for the stairs, taking two at a time.

Price and Johnny were working through the levels, clearing the building as smatterings of people ran past them. Innocents. Civilians that Moses had kidnapped to fill the compound. All dressed in scratchy beige and black cargo. In your hurry to get out of the building, you ran smack into Price who grunted, staring down at the apparent civilian that had tried to plow through him.

“Please don’t hurt me!” You cried, covering your face and cowering on the landing. But the pain never came. Just arms wrapping around you and lifting you to your feet. Fingers and a thumb pinched your chin, lifting your face to meet the man’s eyes you ran into. “They really did a number on you, little bird. Let’s get you home, yeah?” Price’s eyes burned into yours and you couldn’t help the sob that tore from you as you nodded in response. If you’d not literally run into him, you’d have been lost in the sea of civilians trying to find safety.

Getting back to the extraction point had been difficult. An explosion blasted apart a building the three of you were next to and unfortunately for you, you’d been in the path of a rather large piece of wall that knocked you out. When Price, Johnny, and your unconscious body met only Kyle at the extraction point, you were left in the care of Laswell who waited in the helicopter.

Meanwhile, Simon and Kyle were digging themselves out of the cells. The explosions that had followed the one that caved in the entrance had created a small hole big enough for Kyle to get through, but Simon, the massive man he was, wouldn’t fit without making it bigger. So Kyle dug from the outside and Simon from the inside. Finally, when it was big enough, Simon started to haul himself through the hole, only for another explosion to collapse it around him.

God, this is so not the story I'd intended to write, but this is where the muse led me.

Thank you to everyone who keeps supporting this series!

#captain john price #call of duty x reader #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #poly!141 #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic smut #johnny soap mctavish x reader #kyle gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #kyle gaz x you #kyle garrick #john price x reader #john price #john price x plus size reader #john price x you #johnny soap mctavish x you #touchau

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msookyspooky · 11 months ago

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Random thought:

Bo could have piercings and tattoos under his clothes to match that random gothic ring he wears and his taste in Metal music like Dried up, Tied up and Dead to the World by Marilyn Manson in the gas station scene.

So I repeat with emphasis:

HE COULD HAVE NIPPLE PIERCINGS AND A FUCKING BACK TAT AND WE WOULDN'T KNOW. He wears nothing but long sleeves, never takes his shirt off in the movie even when injured, and there is a decade gap between the Sugar Mill shutting down/murders slowly starting and the movie but also a decade or more gap between Bo being a teen and him being 27 or so when the Sugar Mill shuts down then 37 when the movie starts.

We literally have no idea about anything about him but yallternative Bo with his southern charms and possibly alt music taste and style is taking over my brain like rabies.

#i feel like we know absolutely nothing about Bo other than mommy issues and control and temper and sadism #but everything else especially his interests or hobbies or personality outside of murder are completely fair game in fanon #bo sinclair hc #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair #house of wax bo sinclair #house of wax (2005)

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sciatu · 13 days ago

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NEVE IN SICILIA

Nivi liggera, nivi fridda, janca lenta scinni, tuttu cummogghia e ora chi ogni culuri manca lentu u jonnu, da luci si spogghia. Vidi nto ventu u fumu di braceri Senti buci i ciarameddi luntani mentri u friddu gela i pinseri ti femma u cori, sicca i mani. Muti, munti e abbiri janchiaru mentri nto cielu niviru, nimicu l’aceddi si ceccunu nu riparu nte rami chi puru iddi mureru. Senti u ventu gridari raggiatu u so cantu di friddu e di motti come pacciu nto ghianu gilatu malignu dici chi non c’è chiù sotti. Inveci, dà nto cielu scuru scuru s’apri na gran spacca janca e pura strazza u grigiu chiù gelidu e duru a fini dà resta, s’allagga, dura. U suli affaccia e nun ni lassa u munnu s’incumencia a rusbigghiari u bruttu tempu a fini passa u tempu bonu e già nto rivarivari Accussì nta l’omini è puru u cori chi ora s’accupa ora si stimulia poi a spiranza chi mai sinni mori ci dugna fozza, duma a poesia

Neve leggera, neve fredda, bianca, scende lenta e tutto ricopre, ed ora che ogni colore manca, lento il giorno della luce si spoglia. Vedi nel vento il fumo dei camini, senti la voce delle cornamuse lontane, mentre il freddo gela i tuoi pensieri, ti ferma il cuore, ti secca le mani. Muti i monti e gli alberi sono imbiancati, mentre nel cielo nero e nemico, gli uccelli si cercano un riparo sopra rami che anch’essi sono morti. Senti il vento gridare arrabbiato il suo canto di freddo e di morte, come un pazzo nel piano gelato, maligno dice che non vi è più una sorte. Invece, li nel cielo scurissimo, si apre una grande fessura bianca e pura, strappa il grigio più gelido e duro, alla fine resta, s’allarga e dura. Il sole si affaccia e non ci lascia, il mondo si incomincia a svegliare, il brutto tempo alla fine passa, il bel tempo sta già arrivando. Così negli uomini è anche il cuore, che ora si soffoca, ora si preoccupa, poi la speranza che mai se ne muore, gli dona forza e gli accende la poesia.

Light snow, cold snow, white, it falls slowly and covers everything, and now that every color is missing, slowly the day is stripped of light. You see the smoke of the chimneys in the wind, you hear the voice of the distant bagpipes, while the cold freezes your thoughts, stops your heart, dries your hands. The mountains are silent and the trees are white, while in the black and hostile sky, the birds seek shelter on branches that are also dead. You hear the wind shouting angrily its song of cold and death, like a madman in the frozen plain, malignantly says that there is no more fate. Instead, there in the very dark sky, a large white and pure crack opens, tears away the coldest and hardest gray, in the end it remains, it widens and lasts. The sun peeks out and does not leave us, the world begins to wake up, the bad weather finally passes, the good weather is already arriving. So it is also in men the heart, which at one time suffocates, at another worries, then the hope that never dies gives it strength and lights up its poetry.

#sicilia #sciatu #poetry #poesia #siciliano

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sanjoongie · 3 months ago

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𝚂𝚞𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝙾𝚞𝚝𝚕𝚊𝚠

👢#CallMeDjango Collab with @mingsolo @daemour {Welcome to the Outlaw} & @flurrys-creativity

👢Pairing: Vampire! Outlaw! Yeosang x Bounty/Vampire Hunter! Reader (f)

👢Genre: smut, slight angst (happy ending)

👢Trope: monster/slayer romance, e2l

👢au: western au, vampire au, vampire hunter au, historical au

👢Warnings: mentions of blood, death, biting, all things vampire related

👢Kinks: flirty fighting, shaving is sexy, fang kink, sloppy head (m), blood play, penetrative sex with no barrier

👢Word Count: 5,472 (i apologize for the long word count, i got caught up in the world)

👢Summary: when a particular outlaw draws you to a town on the edge of civilization, you find yourself spiraling into the allure of a vampires wiles

👢Author's Note: we are not commenting on the fact that I swore off cowboy!teez and yet, here we are again. Title and concept inspired by Django lyrics of course~

You step off the steps of the hissing train, ignoring the ticketman’s aid down. Habitually, you checked your duel pistols, but they were still snug in their holsters. You had traveled here to hunt down a bounty. Sunset Outlaw, a new name on the list of outlaws, but still one that was dangerous.

The town was bustling despite its existence at the edge of civilization. You pursed your lips in thought and moved down the line of the train to retrieve your horse. Once you had your gloved hands tight around Twilight’s reins and you mounted up, you made your way down the main drag. You noted that it was a busy enough town for its own saloon, bank, and even inn. You tied Twilight at the water trough and then made your way inside.

“Can I have a room?” You inquired to the innkeeper.

She eyed you up and down. The look on her face said that she knew you were trouble but didn’t give a shit--as long as the trouble didn’t happen in her inn. “It’s a dollar for the night. Twenty-five cents more if you want hot water, but you have to go to the pump yourself to get it.”

The ‘lobby’, if you could call it that, had a few scattered chairs where the other guests were lounging. Your sense that told you more trouble was housed here went off. “I’m a bounty hunter,” you supplied. You ruffled around in your saddle bags until you found the poster you wanted. “Have you seen this outlaw? Kim Hongjoong? Miss…?”

“The townspeople call me Bluejay,” the innkeeper insisted. She casted a perfunctory look at your wanted poster but shrugged her shoulders. “Never heard of him. Sign here, and I’ll give you the key to your room.”

You signed ‘Red Hawk’ and plucked the key after placing down your money in rumbled bills. Just as the Bluejay opened her mouth, you interrupted her. “I don’t know how long I’ll be in town. Call that a downpayment on my room.”

“Be my guest,” she replied with amusement.

Red Hawk was your moniker as a bounty hunter. When you were young, the man you loved was killed by a bandit right before your eyes. You had wept over his dead body. As a consequence, your hair had been dyed red by the blood of my dead love. After you dried your tears, you hunted down that bandit and killed him yourself, with your dead lover’s guns. That’s when you officially became Red Hawk.

After settling your affairs at the inn, you went straight to the bank. That was the last known location of the Sunset Outlaw. You interviewed the few witnesses that there were, more notably, the main banker. Choi San had a large body for such a small countenance. He flinched when you flashed your badge at him, and he stammered through his encounter.

“He t-took everything. He had a g-g-gun but he never shot it or anyone. Although he did…” San chewed on his bottom lip anxiously, looking down at the floor.

“I need all the information I can get, Mister Choi. In order to catch him,” You prodded him.

San nodded his head, but it seemed like a motion he was going through, not that he actually understood you.

You sighed and closed your notebook. “Even if it sounds weird. You never know what kind of clue will help me,” you encouraged him.

San’s eyes met yours, but they were shaky at best. “We had one client at that time that was depositing some money. A lot of money, so he demanded we open the bank for him during the night, when no one else was around. He just finished a deal with a farmer. Bought the land while the farmer was recovering from his family being murdered. He wanted out quickly. The outlaw seemed to imply that our client had sent the bandits that murdered the farmer’s family. Then--” San’s pupils blew, and you tried not to sigh again. You got this a lot in your line of work. Well, your other line of work.

San breathed in deeply, as if he were gathering up his courage to speak. “Then, the outlaw grabbed the client intimately, and he bit him!”

You cursed. “Did you bury him here in the town’s graveyard?”

San’s eyes were wide with fear. “No. The outlaw took the body with him. It was the oddest experience I’ve ever had.”

You patted San on his somewhat broad shoulder. “I hope you never have to experience it ever again.”

Your bounty hunter career was actually a cover for your true calling: vampire hunter. When your family migrated over from Europe, it had been the family business. When it wasn’t just humans that moved over to the Americas, it seemed that your family would need to continue with their work.

In the next couple of days, you continued to gather intel. Just one fanciful encounter from a scared banker wasn’t enough to condemn a man. Except the more you learned about this supposed outlaw, the more you were starting to get some grudging respect for him.

The Sunset Outlaw was a modern-day Robin Hood. He stole from the rich and gave to the poor. There were at least a couple more instances of the outlaw robbing a train cart of government gold, only for it to wind up under the beds of failing businesses in the county. A recently widowed mother found a herd of cattle on her land after a group of bandits were horribly murdered in the middle of the night. The list went on, but no innocent lives were taken. The outlaw just happened to be pissing off the wrong people in power.

You were, however, not getting a clue of where the vampire was holding up. No one could see what the outlaw looked like because he wore a bandana over his face whenever his crimes occurred. Even San said that the outlaw's face was obscured by the man’s neck he had been biting. You were starting to think this hunt was going to end in a dead end for you.

You sat in the local saloon after a long day of investigating. You nursed watery beer, not in the mood to spend more money on something harder. You were going to have to stay here until the outlaw committed another crime, hoping to be able to catch him in the act.

One of the whores that worked in the saloon sighed heavily, causing the one beside her to flutter her fan. “Do you think Mister Kang will come tonight? He sure is a sight for sore eyes.”

“He is the most beautiful man I have ever had the delight of laying eyes on,” the other whore agreed.

You were about to zone out from the conversation when something the first whore said peaked your interest. “Odd for him to only come out when the sun set though, hmmm?”

The fan fluttered and then snapped shut by the second whore. “I know plenty of men like him, hun, it’s not so odd.”

The first whore was clearly newer than the second one, so she persisted. “But even the man at the general store insists he only sees him at night too. He makes a special exception for Yeosang. He buys more food than one person could need. I wonder if he’s supporting a family at home.”

“If he is, that means he’s cheating on his poor wife with us,” the second one reminds the first.

That began your digging into this Kang Yeosang. The locals said he had recently purchased a plot of land that was far from town. He didn’t come in often, and when he did, it was always after the sun had set. Which, for a majority of the settlers that woke and slept with the sun rise, was considered quite odd.

“Must be old money,” the general store owner mused out loud. “One of those first settler families from New York. He dresses well, that’s for sure. Never a speck of dust on that man’s clothes.”

“Pays his tab,” the bartender informed you at the saloon. “Even if he drudges up a tab while buying the whole room a round, he always pays up the next time he’s in.”

“I’ve never seen a man so pale,” An elderly lady told you when you stopped her in the middle of the road during a stroll. The sun was so strong for her that she held a parasol above her. Ironic, considering her take on Mister Kang, but even so.

You were beginning to think that you needed to set up a meeting with this Kang Yeosang. And that perhaps it might lead you to the Sunset Outlaw.

After acquiring some less than solid directions from the general store owner, you took Twilight into the dusty beyond. Even though you left fairly early, the townspeople were not joking that Yeosang lived far from the settlement. Around midday, you stopped at a farmer’s plot of land to beg for some water for your horse.

The farmer was handsome and called his wife ‘sparrow’ which would have been sweet if you didn’t find the domesticity of it exhausting. You had never known a life like that, so it simply did not appeal to you. But the couple seemed happily in love. The wife even delivered you a cup of coffee, laughing when you pulled a face at the bitter brew. You thanked them for their generosity and moved on.

The long hours in the saddle were starting to get to you, so you pulled out your pile of outlaw wanted posters. You had a sneaky suspicion that the innkeeper had been lying about knowing the outlaw Kim Hongjoong, but that was a problem for another day. You were contemplating where you would move on next if you happened to take out the Sunset Outlaw. There was one known simply as ‘little eagle’. She had a similar background to the Sunset Outlaw, it seemed. Helping out some natives from keeping their land didn’t sound like a crime to you, but it sure did from the people she had stolen the deeds from.

You were about to turn around and set up camp for the evening at a copse of trees that grew next to a boulder when at last a house came in sight for you. “Finally!” you said, pulling your hat off and fanning yourself.

You hopped off your horse and guided Twilight to the fence. Not a lot of people took kindly to you walking on their land. Yeosang had sounded like a gentleman, but you weren’t one to take someone at face value, although everyone had painted him as beautiful beyond comparison. Most people also use the same descriptors for vampires.

The sun was still up, but it seemed to be setting. Not a great time to come accusing someone of being a vampire IF they were a vampire, but you had no choice. You did, however, have your crossbow strapped to your back and your quiver at your hip, along with a few recently sharpened steaks, and that would have to do. And if it turned out Yeosang wasn’t a vampire, hopefully, you wouldn’t have to use your pistols on him.

“What's a delicious bounty hunter like yourself doing so far out of town, Red?”

You narrowed your eyes at the front porch of the homestead. The sun was low, and it cast a long shadow over the covered outcrop. “Apparently introductions are not in order,” you drawled.

“Why, of course I’ve familiarized myself with the new face in town,” Yeosang said charmingly. “Especially since such a pretty face has been asking all about little ol’ me.”

You chuckled mirthlessly. “That’s a mighty fine compliment coming from a man they describe as a perfect statue.”

“But my real question is why is a bounty hunter interested in someone of my high standing? Why, I’ve never even stolen as a child. I pay my tabs on time. I even buy a round of beer in the saloon when I’m feeling good. I’m an outstanding citizen, if I do say so myself.”

“Then you would know that I’ve been asking everyone in town about the Sunset Outlaw as well. I figured since you were new in these parts, you would offer a different perspective.” You stared right into the eyes of the devil himself. Now, would he take the bait?

“Since you rode all the way out here and the sun is setting, I would be remiss to send you back out. You should stay, have supper with me and I can answer all your questions.”

You hummed and opened the padlock to the fenced area. “Don’t mind if I do, Mister Kang. That’s very nice of you.”

The inside was as normal as one would expect. It was decorated with taste, and there were a few pieces, including the grand piano, that would have cost a pretty penny. Now, an outlaw might be so inclined to spend his money that way. Or a vampire that had already lived a few centuries might have brought it over, still attached to their material possessions from their human life.

“So, Mister Kang, what brings you to this bustling little town at the edge of civilization?” You wondered, putting down your crossbow and leaning it up against the coathanger.

Now that you were inside and Yeosang out of the shade, you could truly be struck by the beauty of the man. The provincial townspeople had not been telling tall tales about the new man in town. His nose, his jawline, his almond shaped eyes, everything supported how gorgeous he was. His face contrasted with his larger figure, but you figured the body was to dissuade others from picking a fight with him. Although most vampires preferred to appear helpless, which lured in their prey, this vampire seemingly played by a different set of rules.

“Please, call me Yeosang,” the mysterious man insisted.

“Why, that’s awfully informal of you,” You said, meeting his eyes.

The brunette cocked his head flirtatiously. “I do enjoy a lady calling me by my name in my house.”

You snorted under your breath. “I am far from a lady.”

Yeosang eyes traveled over your shirt and vest, dipping into every curve and valley. His eyes seemed to light up as they flowed over your tight pants. “So I see. We’ll have to fix that.”

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

Yeosang rubbed his chin. “I don’t have a lot of visitors, and as you have learned from the townsfolk, I don’t go into town that much. I would be much obliged if you would help me shave before supper? So I can appear as gentlemanly as one can assume to be in a desolate landscape that we live in. I have a dress upstairs for you to change into. Wouldn’t it be nice to pretend in an uncivilized place such as this?”

“I can help you with your shaving.” You jumped on the opportunity to have Yeosang at your fingertips.

“How lovely,” Yeosang replied. His eyes held a dark light that belied something mysterious. Then again, vampires did love their mystery.

The mysterious man who invited you into his house gave you a brief tour, which included lingering near his bedroom when he announced whose room it was. Then he brought you back to the main floor, to the dining room.

Yeosang had set up a bowl with hot water, and the soap was in a tin with the appropriate brush. He handed you a towel before taking a seat at his dining room table. He had already tucked a towel into his shirt to protect it. “I do appreciate you doing me this favor,” He smiled serenely.

“Call it payback for supplying me with dinner,” You replied coyly.

Yeosang tipped back his head, and you took that as your cue to begin. You lathered up the soap and took the brush, using broad strokes to apply it liberally on his face and neck. You firmly grasped his head to hold it in place

“I don’t suppose you’ve been around when the Sunset Outlaw has been committing his crimes?” You asked your first question. One stroke of the brush up his neck had you admiring the sharpness of his jaw.

Yeosang rolled his eyes up to regard you. “No, I have not had the pleasure of meeting him.”

“But you have heard the town gossip,” You pursued.

“Of course. The townsfolk appear to adore this Sunset Outlaw. He does help them where no one would,” Yeosang offered.

Yeosang was finally completely covered in soap, so you procured the razor from the table. Yeosang wasn’t going to be able to talk during this period as any movement might cause you to cut him, so you took your chance to seemingly gab about what you had learned.

“I will tell you something interesting I garnered from all his stories, however,” you began. The razor glided along Yeosang’s skin easily, and you knew it had nothing to do with how good the soap was. “For some odd reason, the Sunset Outlaw, living up to his name, never does his good deeds while the sun is up. It’s almost like he’s allergic to the sun! Funny, right? But I do find it interesting.”

You paused to wipe the razor of the soap that had run up the blade while you shaved Yeosang, and he took the moment to speak up.

“That is interesting,” He said, his eyes sparkling with interest. “It’s almost like you’ve come to some conclusions yourself.”

You leaned in as if you had a secret just for his ears. “My family is from Europe, you see. So these accounts sound very familiar to me. There are myths of men drinking blood from other men.”

Yeosang’s eyes widened. “A vampire?”

You narrowed your eyes at Yeosang. He was a good little actor. “Heard of them, have you?”

Yeosang’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “I’ve been known to crack open a book from time to time.”

“You two have a lot in common,�� you drawled.

Yeosang laughed, and it rang disingenuously throughout the dining room. “Me? An outlaw? My genteel upbringing surely doesn’t call for it.”

“Why am I here, Yeosang?!”

Yeosang chuckled dryly in the back of his throat. “Why, you're helping me shave right now?”

Your hand tightened on Yeosang’s forehead and the razor at his neck. “I don't feel one grain of a stubble under this soap, Partner, so, try again.”

“You're not like the rest of them, are you?” Yeosang drawled, a crooked smirk pulling one corner of his lips.

“No, I don't suppose I am,” you agreed. You continued to shave Yeosang, but it was more threatening now. “But neither are you, are you, Yeosang?”

“Whatever do you mean, Red?” Yeosang faked ignorance.

“Well, none of the townsfolk have seen you while the sun is up, for one thing,” you pointed out.

“I just like staying up until the sun rises,” Yeosang said, a merry twinkle in his eyes.

“And the box your bed is on?” You pointed out.

“Why, I like sleeping raised off the floor, just like everyone else,” Yeosang offered.

You tucked the razor into your pocket after cleaning it and then folding it in half. You took the towel over your shoulder and then began to use it to touch your neck. You pulled aside your hair. “Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?” You murmured.

Something poked against his lower lip and his tongue came out to play along the top line of his teeth. His light eyes took on an almost predatory gaze. “I don't feel the heat like I used to.”

“And the unnatural white skin and long fangs?” You said in a deadly tone.

“Oh no, Hawk, it seems you've triggered the animalistic side to me,” Yeosang purred. “That, I'm sorry to say, is simply encouraged by your alluring scent. You smell like you would taste divine.”

“If my blood smells that good, why don't you bite me?” You prompted.

“Because that would be bad manners, darlin’.”

“Don't you darlin’ me, Mister Vampire,” You finally accused.

“What will you do?” Yeosang wondered. “Your crossbow is propped up at the front door. That razor isn't going to do a lot, but piss me off. Unless you've got something else tucked into that tight little getup of yours. I really wish you'd wash up and put on the dress I laid out for you. Darlin'.”

“I’m done with you toying with me, Yeosang. I'm putting this game to an end,” you declared.

“How quaint. Do you really think you’ll kill me before I can kill you?” Yeosang questioned.

One minute, Yeosang was sitting in the chair, and the next he was behind you. His hold on your head to pull it back mimicked the way you had been holding him as you shaved him. You shuddered as his fangs scraped against your skin. You could feel his cool breath on your neck.

“I believe this is check,” Yeosang snarled, making a chess reference. Educated fucker.

“Is it?” You said through gritted teeth.

You had also pulled the stake that you kept strapped to your upper arm, pulling it stealthily from your folded up sleeves. It was now pointing at Yeosang’s heart. “Let's test your earlier question. It can’t hurt, right?”

Yeosang sighed, his breath causing you to acquire goosebumps all along your skin. “I don’t want to kill you, but it seems you are most determined to kill me.”

“You are a vampire; a monster. An aberration from the evolutionary line of humans. You need to be eliminated before you kill more humans.” You shivered, but it wasn't because of fear.

“But I’m only killing the bad ones!” Yeosang insisted, frustration coating his tone. “Didn’t you discover that during your investigation?”

“It doesn’t matter what your reasoning is!” You yelled. It felt good to yell; to battle against rolling your hips back against his body.

“Surely it does, though? Outlaws can’t go around and kill innocent people because that’s against the law. But you’re allowed to kill outlaws. You protect the good humans from the bad. You KILL the bad humans to protect the good ones. Aren’t I doing the same?”

You froze, Yeosang’s words, causing your world to come crashing down. “You’re wrong,” you spat even though you were lying through your teeth.

“I’m right,” Yeosang insisted. “Only, you can’t handle that.” The vampire's grip tightened, the firmness of his body suddenly tighter against you. Your stake pressed into his flesh. “You can't handle any of me.”

Your pulse stuttered and your pussy throbbed. “What are you doing to me?”

Yeosang’s lips brushed against your sensitive skin as he spoke. “What am I doing to you?”

“Stop that.” You had meant that as a command, but it came out as a whine.

Yeosang peeked down your body and his deep chuckle set your libido on fire. “I can see how hard your nipples are from here, Darlin’.”

There was nothing worse than having a sexual reaction to your mortal enemy. “Let me go before I stab you.”

“I can't let you go. I'm awfully hungry,” Yeosang purred. “I might have to be balls deep in you while I drink from your breast.”

Excitement flared through your body and you cursed at it betraying you. “You wouldn't dare.”

“I would dare, the way your body is screaming for me to do all the debased things I don't dare do with the whores in town.”

Somehow, in your pursuit of triggering Yeosang to bite you and put the final nail in his coffin, so to speak, you had passed over the fence that separated hatred into lust. You desperately wanted what Yeosang was offering. You would be at your most vulnerable if you allowed it to happen, but perhaps it would give you the chance you needed to finish this battle. You had to at least try; Yeosang was a hard nut to crack.

You let your body melt into Yeosang’s hold, letting the arm that you held your stake to Yeosang’s heart fall to your side. “Am I a bad human then? Will you kill me?”

Yeosang let go of his hold on your head and turned you around. “Haven’t you been listening? You and me? We are the same. Our character is morally grey; doing bad things for the good of the world.”

Your throat tightened. Hadn't you been grappling with the same question since you began to kill? Vampire or human, you had wondered if you were becoming one of them; one of the monsters.

Yeosang tipped your chin to meet his eyes. You immediately avoided direct eye contact. As a vampire hunter, you knew never to look him directly in the eyes. He might hypnotize him otherwise. A throaty, knowing chuckle left Yeosang’s pretty lips. “Let me bring you up to my bed. Let me prove to you that people such as us can get along.”

You nodded, and Yeosang threw you over his shoulder. With the speed of a vampire, you were transported to Yeosang’s bedroom. The vampire threw you gently to the bed, and you bounced with the impact.

The vampire watched you with dark eyes as he began to unbutton his shirt and remove it. You followed his lead, removing your vest. When you tried to take off your own shirt, Yeosang was on top of you on the bed, halting your progress.

“Allow me,” He murmured.

His deft fingers undid the buttons, eyes watching as your bosom was revealed, pushed high from your corset. “All rough on the outside, but still a woman under it all,” Yeosang mused out loud.

You felt your cheeks heat up at that statement. “It’s simply for function,” you muttered under your breath.

You helped Yeosang wriggle you out of your pants, and soon you were only in your corset, pantalettes discarded already.

Yeosang knelt between your legs, fangs scraping over the sensitive flesh of your thigh. His nostrils flared, and his eyes flashed red. “Your scent is tempting. Your blood is beckoning to me.”

You swallowed loudly. How could you be so weak for this vampire? You flipped the two of you so that you were straddling Yeosang instead.

“Focus on the task at hand,” You insisted.

You rubbed the heel of your hand on the imprint of Yeosang’s cock against his tight pants. Yeosang moaned and then his eyes widened. You lowered yourself to undo his belt and take him in your mouth. Men almost always forgot about being lubricated when entering a woman. Yeosang bit down on his forefinger, drawing blood with his fangs, as you gave him sloppy head, in order to prepare his cock for yourself.

His hands shredded the bedding below him before he growled and changed positions again. “Who’s proving what to whom?”

You were both knelt on the bed, Yeosang’s legs inside of your own, and your back to his chest. “Enough games, we both know who’s in charge in this situation.”

You let out a soft cry as Yeosang entered you from behind. Once he was completely sheathed inside of you, one hand slid over the curve of your hip and, the other hand, pulled your hair out of the way.

“Wa-wait,” You stuttered as Yeosang’s hips swivelled and his cock moved in and out of you slowly.

“Oh, I’m not going to bite you immediately,” Yeosang laughed quietly. “But you did shudder for me so deliciously when I did this earlier. I can’t help myself.” Those delicate fangs ran along the slope of your shoulder, and you closed your eyes as you enjoyed the feeling once again.

Yeosang worked himself in and out of you, slowly but surely, nearly driving you insane. He wasn’t like the quick fucks that you were used to. The type where men spilt their seed and you missed your orgasm once again. It was almost like Yeosang was looking for you to attain your high first.

“Yeo…” You moaned his name wantonly.

“Careful, Red,” Yeosang said as he clasped his hand over your mouth. The same hand that was bleeding. He wiped his blood over your lips sensually. “You might appear eager for me.”

Your muffled noises of pleasure randomly escaped Yeosang’s gag. You could feel your pleasure building, and it was only a matter of time before it spilled over. As you moaned with your release, Yeosang bit down on your neck. He pumped himself in and out of you, drinking your blood, and found his own orgasm. He growled against your neck, spilling himself inside of you.

You both collapsed onto the bed in a tired pile, both satiated in one way or another. Facing each other, you both panted as your highs slowly slipped away.

But, as with most men, Yeosang found himself indulging in pillow talk.

“You asked me earlier what I’m doing here on the edge of civilization.” Yeosang brought up in a voice that was deep from having some great, mind-blowing sex.

“It was a rhetorical question,” You mused.

Yeosang dragged a finger along your bare shoulder, playing with some stray hair, the red ends beginning to fade out. “I’d like to answer it, nonetheless.”

You pursed your lips. It was bad enough that you had already started to feel like Yeosang was one of the good guys the way he treated the locals. Even worse, you’d let the very monsters you hunt fuck you. But to listen to his reasons why, surely there was a limit? “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Yeosang chuckled low mirthlessly. “Afraid you’ll start seeing me as a human?”

You stiffened as the accusation hit its target. “You are an abomination. You’re like an animal that’s upset the ecosystem. You haven’t been human for a very long time.”

“You’re right.” Yeosang smiled tightly and then it was gone. “But that ties into why I’m here.”

You sat up, pulling the sheet with you to keep you covered. Unfortunately, that took away from the sheet covering Yeosang, and it pooled at his waist scandalously. You swallowed loudly and pointedly looked away. “Trying to make up for lost time?”

“Something like that.” Yeosang smiled slowly. “Like what you see, Darlin’?”

You cleared your throat. “Don’t you have to go to sleep soon? I’m sure the sun will rise eventually.”

Yeosang folded his arms behind his head and shook his head. Unfortunately for you, it only showcased his arms and upper body that much more. “That’s a myth. I never sleep. I simply can not allow the sun to touch my skin.”

“Yeosang.”

“I know. I’ll have to leave. Disappear for a bit until the bounty dies. But I will continue to help people who need it. This place is desolate and it needs some hope.”

You didn’t know what to say, truly. “I hope… I hope I’m not still doing bounty work when it comes up again.”

Yeosang’s light eyes flick over to your hunched body. “What will you tell your family?”

“I’m not sure. If I say I didn’t kill you, someone else will come looking for you, Yeosang.”

“Don’t go back?”

You shook your head. “I can’t do that. There are more vampires out there, killing innocent people. I won’t stop protecting them. It’s my calling.” You rub your hand over your chest, feeling pain in your heart.

“Then…let me come with you.”

Your head whipped backward so fast you gave yourself whiplash. “What?”

Yeosang’s eyes remained on the ceiling above, but you could tell he was holding back hopefulness and bracing for the worst. “What better place to hide from the enemy than with the enemy?” Yeosang’s eyes finally found yours. “Besides, I could help people with you.”

“You’d help me kill your own kind?” You demanded with bewilderment.

“I’d help you,” Yeosang clarified. “I also don’t want innocent people dying for no reason too.”

“You’re awfully dedicated to atoning for your sins,” you mentioned.

Yeosang’s lips tightened. “I have a lot of sins to atone for.” And he left it at that.

You laid back down, using Yeosang’s arm to pillow your head. “I guess I won’t be leaving at sunrise after all.”

And that was the last that was heard of the Sunset Outlaw. Some surmise that he retired after helping out so many people in need. Some believe he never existed in the first place. But other’s swear that the outlaw took up with the likes of a bounty hunter, playing Maid Marian to his Robin Hood. Now wouldn’t that be an interesting story indeed.

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r4mmst3in · 1 year ago

Text

Collaborating Like Killers

Deathmetalhead! Reader x Sinclair Brothers

Warnings: death metal, Bo being himself, mvrder, d3ath

A/N: WOW!!! PELLE POSTED FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER!!! NO WAY!!! Also title is a Carnifex song lol

Bo Sinclair

He’s into it.

Not as much as you are, but he’s a metal/hard rock fan *que Dried Up, Tied Up, and Dead to The World by Marilyn Manson*

If you have long hair, he’s a big fan.

He loves messing with it, pulling it, or just pushing it out of your face.

He can’t braid it or anything but. He tries.

He doesn’t like how it can get yourself hurt in a situation with a tourist.

He doesn’t hate your music, but won’t have it playing if you were in the shop with him and a tourist came along.

One time a tourist escaped the shop and found you walking down from the house.

They pulled you down to the dirt by your hair, using one hand to hold you by your hair and one to hold your hands behind your back

Bo was pissed, to say the least.

Of course, that victim went into the museum.

Bo liked to take you to remind you that he’ll always protect you.

Vincent Sinclair

Oh cool.

He didn’t really get it at first, but the more you introduced him to it, he liked it.

He never listened to it usually, but after a rough day, he’ll like to relax with you while listening to some Carnifex.

If you had long hair: god, he loves it.

He has long hair himself, so I’d like to think that he’s good at styling it, or at least taking care of it.

If you want, he’d wash your hair for you.

He likes to relax like that, you sitting in the warm bath water as he massages your scalp.

A dream come true.

He can braid, most definitely.

Trudy would probably have taught him about hair, saying, “When you have your special someone, you can always do their hair.”

If he’s stressed, he’ll want to listen to some heavy shit with you. Most being Cannibal Corpse, Mayhem, or Exhumed.

His favorite song would be Limb From Limb by Exhumed. No real reason.

He just likes it.

Lester Sinclair

(HES SO PRETTY ALSBDODLSBSH)

He’s not a big fan.

He doesn’t understand how people could listen to men screaming into their ears.

But whatever makes you happy.

You with long hair = Lester’s lab rat.

He always wanted to learn how to do hair, especially curling it.

You didn’t like to curl your hair, but Lester always gave you puppy eyes.

You couldn’t say no.

Lester wouldn’t be opposed to listening to it.

If you wanted to listen with him, he’ll bob his head a little bit.

But he could never listen on his own.

He might listen to a few songs, just to listen when he’s with you.

But in all, he loves you no matter what.

Metalhead or not.

#sinclair brothers #slashers x reader #slasher fucker #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #bo sinclair x male reader #vincent sinclair x male reader #lester sinclair x male reader #death metal #metalhead reader #metalhead

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sxgarworld · 2 years ago

Text

Painter’s Hand

Order Contains: In which Choso Kamo is one of your peers in your college art course. He comes over to study you painting, but it seems his infatuated with more than just your technique.

With a side of: Biting, whimpering, soft!dom needy Choso bc im a slut for whimpering men

Calorie Count: 1.8k words

As you were packing up your supplies, and taking your dried canvas and placing it in its separate bag, you hear thick soles of someone’s shoes walk up behind you. You turn, a little shocked, to see one of your classmates standing there eagerly.

It was your classmate, Choso. You knew him because during critique, he had nothing bad to say about your art. He didn’t say much though, he always looked tired and in his own world. It didn’t help that he always had big, clunky headphones on.

“Choso! Can I help you with something?” you said, scolding yourself silently for sounding so formal. You realized you were nervous, why did he make you nervous?

“Y/N, this might be a weird question but,” he paused, fiddling with his hair that was pulled into a ponytail, “I was wondering if, you know, one day you’d let me see you paint? Just us two? I love your art and I’d love to see your technique,” he asks. His compliments made you go red. Ever since you could remember, you could never take a compliment like a normal person. Quickly, you got giddy and smiled at him.

“Of course! Here, give me your phone number and I’ll text you my dorm number and when I’m free,” you smile, taking out your phone and allowing him to put in his contact. He gently takes the phone, and you can’t help but notice how his slender, long fingers are slightly spotted with blue and white paints. He hands your phone back to you.

“Well, I’ve got another class across campus in thirty minutes. But I’ll see you later?” He asks, hopeful. You nod. He walks out with his painting (which still looked wet) and his bag. His Doc Martens clunk against the ground as he leaves.

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It’s around 8pm, you’re sitting in your dorm room, swiping through textbook pages, careful to not get a paper-cut. You texted Choso a while back, and he said he was coming, but never specified when. After a while you got distracted, forgetting about having a guest, until you heard a knock at your door.

It made you drop your highlighter in shock. You quickly got up to look in the mirror to make sure you looked presentable. No crumbs on your shirt or clumpy mascara. After checking, you went to go see who was at the door. Staring through your peephole, you saw Choso, this time with his hair tied up into two buns on the sides of his head. How cute!

“Chosoooo,” you smiled, opening the door, “come in! I was about to finish that painting from class today.” He nodded, eyes taking in your dorm. You were artsy, and your dorm reflected that strongly. The interior design was so fun to look at.

“Did you decorate yourself?” he asked, running a hand along a velvet blanket thrown neatly on your couch. It was so soft, everything inside the dorm felt so comfortable. Like a home more than just a dorm.

“Oh! Yeah I did, took a little inspiration from people online, though.” You saw as he walked around, like he was lost in admiration. His normally tired eyes were still tired, but less dead. Like a fish!

“It’s beautiful,” he admired, looking directly at you. Again, your face went red from the praise. It was his voice, too, so deep and raspy, throwing around compliments like this. You couldn’t help but react this way.

“Thank you! Do you wanna.. um, come see me paint now? Or like we could do anything to be honest, I don’t mind,” you stammered. Of course he didn’t want to do anything else, why would he? He just came to see you paint, because he liked your technique.

“Oh painting, yeah we could. I’d love to see you in action,” he said, starting to get close to you. An electric shock was sent down your spine. His words were almost hypnotic. You made your way into your bedroom, pulling out your canvas and placing it on your easel, your pallet already full of paint from earlier. It was a little dried out, but it didn’t matter. It was good enough.

You dipped your brush in the red, and lightly swiped it across your canvas. For you, you watered down your paints a bit. It took away the vibrance but it added a very soft, subtle look. The way you blending was a bit odd too, blending with a brush then a bit more with your fingers.

As you painted, you could feel Choso’s breath down your neck. He was standing right behind you, so close. His hands rested on your easel, meaning you were trapped between him and the easel. It almost made you shake a little bit, which he thought was just another part of your technique.

“You’re real good at this, yknow?” he whispered, his words hitting your ear breathily. It made your entire body heat up. His deep voice right into your ear, praising you as you worked. It made you melt against him, back pressed to his chest.

“Don’t shake too much, sugar, I’d hate it if you ruined this pretty painting,” he said, grabbing your shaking hand as you dipped your brush back into your paint. What’d he just call you? Sugar? It was difficult to keep your composure now, with him sweet talking you.

“I’m not gonna ruin it,” you said quietly, almost to yourself. He let out a soft chuckle, his hands now resting on your waist. God you hoped he couldn’t feel how hot and nervous you were. You were glad he definitely couldn’t feel how wet you were.

“I bet you won’t sweetheart,” he said, taking his hand and grabbing your jaw. He softly forced you to look up at him. “You’re just so good at this, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t hold yourself together, it was starting to be too much. Did he come here to watch you work, or did he have ulterior motives? You could tell, his dead eyes were almost cloudy as he looked at you. Clouded with what? Lust? He didn’t break eye contact with you.

You turned, so your chest was facing his chest, and you grabbed the collar of his shirt. For a second you hesitated, wondering if you should question him or not. But something inside of you pressed yourself against him, pulling him closer and softly pressing your lips against his.

“God, I’ve wanted you for months. You’re so reserved, I needed a good reason to finally see you, to have you like this.” His eyes glossed over you, your hot body and your red face. He kissed you again, this time on your neck. You gripped onto his t-shirt, a bit rougher than you expected. He kept planting kisses on your neck and your collar bone, making you shake.

“Please, Choso,” you whined. He didn’t even need to ask you what you wanted. He lifted you up, his arms were so strong, and tossed you onto your bed. He pressed you down into the mattress, crawling on top of you and kissing you more.

“Please what baby?” he teased, knowing exactly what you wanted. You looked at him with pleading eyes as he kissed you over and over again, the kisses starting to become sloppier and wetter. He didn’t even bother to let you finish begging, he couldn’t help himself around you. Slowly he slipped off your jeans, and with it, your panties. For a minute he just sat and kissed you, letting you grind against his strong thighs.

But it was too much for him, he couldn’t just sit and tease you like this for long. He whined, tugging at shirt.

“Nu uh, that’s not fair,” you frowned “All your clothes are still on.” He looked at you with wide eyes, then taking all of his clothes off, kicking his pants off the side of your bed. You couldn’t help but look at him. Underneath his baggy clothes, you thought he’d be skinny and scrawny. He was… glorious. His body was chiseled and defined, which was odd for a fine arts major. You immediately sat on his lap, pulling off your shirt and bra.

He bit at your neck, sucking and leaving the tiniest purple marks up and down the side. He bit down a bit harder than before, leaving a full red circle with indents for each of his teeth in your neck. The sudden pain made you whimper, your nails digging into his back.

“Please, let me—“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence, he was too hot and bothered. His cock pressed against your folds, his angry pink tip leaking precum all over his own thighs. “I need it, I need you s’bad.”

You let out a soft laugh, nodding your head. He took that as a resounding yes. He couldn’t help but push his tip into you, no teasing from his fingers to loosen you up. He let out the most gutural, pathetic moan you’ve ever heard. As he thrust in sloppily, he let out whines and whimpers, as if it were too much for him to handle.

“It- agh-! You’re so tight, baby,” he whimpered, burying his head into the crook of your neck. He suddenly grabbed your hips, forcing you to bounce up and down on his cock. You slammed yourself down on it, feeling his tip brush against the entrance to your womb. The feeling made you throw your head back and moan. He let out more pathetic sounds of struggle and pleasure. You could feel him wetting your neck up with… tears?

“It’s too fuckin’ good!” he cried out, fucking you hard. Suddenly he threw you back onto the bed, your head hitting your pillow. He pinned your hands to the headboard. His eyebrows furrowed as he plowed into you desperately, his pace speeding up.

“Choso- haah—“ you panted out, tongue barely escaping your mouth, as his pace suddenly became sloppy. He gripped your hips tighter, pressing bruises into your skin.

“Fuck I’m gonna— I’m— I’m gonna cum!” he said, barely even finishing his sentence before you felt his seed splattering inside your walls, your own juices coating his dick as you finished. He spasmed, leaning his head into the crook of your neck as he let a few last spurts shoot out of his cock. “So- so good baby. You feel so good.” He whimpered out, gulping as he did.

You ran a hand through his hair, almost pulling out another whine from him at the affection caress.

“You’re so pretty baby, such a pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands loosening its grip on your hips, and instead letting his arms wrap around you softly. “Such a pretty girl, yeah? You’re beautiful,” he muttered, kissing along your forehead.

My pretty girl.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

likes and reblogs are appreciated! <3 Please dont repost

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