#I love you dead is the new alive that started playing on the other room rn really comforting

[elikajinnie]

Cold Touch, Sharp Mirror - P.S

P: Dead By Daylight Killer!Sunghoon X Survivor!Reader (recommended age 17+)

Warnings: Death, Murder, Suggestive Content, Blood/Injury, Obsession, Chasing, Fixation, Temperature Play?

Synopsis: You’ve always liked snow, but you never liked the idea of being chased through it—too loud, too slippery. Luckily, the Entity’s maps were more muddy than snowy. That is, until a new killer arrived, bringing with him a snowy map. And it seems like he’s fixated on finding the perfect beauty to complement him and you're exactly what he’s looking for.

a/n: im so happy my pookies @aceheexx and @concerned-terrapin got dbd :3 also i went a bit overboard with the ending???

heeseung version | jay version

now playing: like a dream by thomas larosa | frzzn by ozzie | chills -dark version by mickey valen

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Now, normally, you loved snow. Back before you were taken by the entity, you’d always be thrilled when it snowed—watching the snowflakes drift from the sky, each one unique and delicate, settling on the ground and transforming it into a soft, white wonderland. It felt comforting, like nature’s own little gift. But time doesn’t follow the same rules in the entity’s realm. Seasons don’t change, and winter becomes a distant memory, a concept rather than a feeling. You haven’t felt real snow in what feels like forever.

So, when you first saw it again you felt a flicker of joy. You landed on the ground, expecting that chill on your skin, the cold air filling your lungs. But instead, you were met with something... wrong. The snow didn’t fall naturally, but seemed to be pasted onto the world, cold only in appearance. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t alive. The snowflakes didn’t twirl through the air, and the ground beneath your feet felt too solid, too still. No crisp bite in the air, no damp chill seeping through your clothes. Just a hollow echo of the winter you once loved. The excitement quickly faded, replaced by a bitter disappointment. It wasn't real. It never was.

You didn’t expect much when you were called for a trial. They were all the same at this point—different maps, same routine. But as soon as you arrived, something felt… off. The air was sharp and biting, your breath fogged in front of you, and a chill ran down your spine as you took in your surroundings. You were standing outside a massive manor, its roof blanketed with thick snow and sharp icicles hanging from the edges like teeth. Snow drifted lazily from the sky, it was quiet and the crunch of snow under your boots felt too loud. You hugged yourself against the cold, shivering as it nipped at your skin.

This was new.

Your eyes scanned the manor, its grandness both stunning and foreboding. You didn’t recognize it from any previous trials, and that only made your chest tighten. This map was new. And if it was new, there was only one explanation.

A new killer.

You took a hesitant step forward, your nerves on edge as you climbed the steps to the manor’s entrance. The door creaked open with little effort and your heart sank as you took in the strange décor. The walls were lined with mirrors—some shattered, their jagged shards glinting menacingly, others cracked just enough to distort your reflection. A few were pristine, their surfaces smooth and unbroken, but something about them felt wrong. The reflections didn’t look quite right.

Your breath came out in quick puffs, the cold seeming to seep through the walls themselves. You forced yourself to keep moving, knowing you had to find a generator. The sooner you started, the sooner this trial could be over.

Your search led you to a massive ballroom, and your breath caught in your throat. It was unlike anything you’d seen before. The floor was a sheet of ice, polished to a mirror-like shine, and the room seemed to stretch endlessly. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, but instead of glass, it was crafted entirely from icicles, their razor-sharp points glistening as they swayed ever so slightly. The windows—or where the windows should have been—were replaced with cracked mirrors.

You stepped carefully onto the icy floor, your boots slipping slightly as you made your way further in. The cold seemed to deepen here, clawing at your skin and making you shudder uncontrollably. You glanced around, half-expecting to see a generator, but there was none in sight.

You huffed in frustration as you slid across the icy floor, your footing unstable. The sharp cold gnawed at your fingers and toes, even through your clothes. Just as you steadied yourself, a scream tore through the air, slicing through the quiet like a blade. It was distant but blood-curdling, the cry of a survivor encountering the killer.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you moved forward, walking through a pair of wide, icy double doors that led to a balcony. The scene that greeted you stopped you in your tracks.

Below you stretched a massive, frozen garden. Rows of tall hedges loomed like the skeletal remains of a long-dead maze, their branches brittle and crusted with frost. The labyrinth twisted and turned, the pathways obscured by fog that clung to the ground like ghostly tendrils. Scattered throughout the garden were ice statues—figures frozen mid-motion—but the distance made it hard to tell if they were just art.

Movement in the maze caught your eye. You squinted and leaned over the balcony’s edge. It was Nancy. She was running through the labyrinth, her hands flailing as she waved desperately in your direction. Panic was written all over her face, her wide eyes darting between you and something behind you.

It took a moment for you to process what she was trying to convey. That’s when it hit you—a cold breeze that wrapped around your body like icy fingers. Your breath caught as you shivered violently, your teeth chattering. Slowly, as if against your own will, you turned around.

And there he was.

A tall man loomed behind you, unnervingly still, his presence so cold. He was clad in a tailored suit, though it was torn and frayed in places. An icy sheen coated the fabric, frost clinging to him as if he were part of winter. His hair was white, and the tips seemed frozen, as though frost had begun to consume him from the edges.

But it was his face that sent chills down your spine.

The left side of his face was hauntingly beautiful—sharp, elegant features carved from pale skin, veins of icy blue tracing faintly on his neck. His lips, pale and slightly blue, parted slightly as a frosty mist escaped with every breath, and his eye, an unnatural, glowing blue, fixed on you with an intensity that rooted you in place.

The right side of his face, however, was hidden beneath a mask of cracked mirrors, the shards reflecting distorted images of yourself. The fragments shifted slightly, catching the dim light as if they were alive, twisting your reflection into a grotesque parody.

In his right hand, he held a massive shard of glass, its edges jagged and sharp, covered in frost that glittered like deadly diamonds. Ice crawled along the surface, spiraling down to the hilt where his gloved hand gripped it tightly. His other hand, bare and pale as death itself, hung loosely at his side, frost coating his fingertips.

He tilted his head slowly, the motion unnatural. You couldn’t tell if the sound you heard was the creak of his neck or the faint crackle of ice forming in the air around him.

Your breath hitched as you took a shaky step back, the icy floor beneath you making it nearly impossible to find stable footing. The cold wasn’t just external anymore; it was inside you, crawling through your veins almost like a parasite.

The killer took a step forward, the shard of glass dragging across the ground, leaving a thin trail of frost in its wake. The sound it made was sharp and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

The only thought screaming in your mind was run.

And you didn’t hesitate. Your survival instincts kicked in, and you pushed off the icy floor, sliding awkwardly toward the edge of the balcony. Without a second thought, you vaulted over, your heart leaping into your throat as you braced for the impact below. The landing was rough but the adrenaline forcing you to ignore the ache.

As you straightened up, you glanced back over your shoulder, just for a split second, and froze.

He was leaning over the balcony, his hand resting on the icy railing, his head tilted again. He wasn’t rushing after you. He wasn’t angry or even fazed. Instead, he watched you with a cold calmness, like a predator confident in its prey’s inevitable capture.

That made it worse.

You didn’t wait to see what he’d do next. Turning on your heel, you took off running into the labyrinth, the snow crunching loudly beneath your boots. Every step a reminder of how exposed you were.

You didn’t know where you were going—just away. Away from him. Away from the cold and the glass shard that promised pain and death. Your breath came in quick, visible puffs as you ran, your lungs burning from the freezing air.

The labyrinth was a maze in every sense of the word, the fog making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead. You turned left, then right, your boots sliding on patches of ice hidden beneath the snow. Your mind raced as you tried to recall the layout you’d glimpsed from the balcony, but it was no use. Every path looked the same—dead and endless.

Another scream rang out, sharper and closer this time. Your heart sank. You couldn’t tell who it was, so you forced yourself to keep going, your legs burning with the effort of running on the uneven, frozen ground.

Your legs burned, your lungs screamed for air, and the cold gnawed relentlessly at your skin. You finally skidded to a halt, leaning against the icy hedge for support. The snow beneath you crunched as you shifted, each breath coming out as shaky puffs of mist. You sniffled, shivering as you tried to gather your thoughts.

That’s when you saw it.

To your right, standing innocently against the frozen hedge, was a tall mirror. It was pristine, untouched by the cracks, the frame was silver, almost shimmering, and frost curled delicately along its edges like it had been painted there. The glass itself was so smooth it reflected everything perfectly, capturing your wide-eyed, disheveled image with startling clarity.

You tilted your head, your breath hitching as you stared. It had been so long since you’d seen your reflection—so long since you’d stopped to even think about what you looked like. The sight was strange, foreign even. You didn’t recognize the exhausted, frost-bitten figure staring back at you, but something about the mirror pulled you in.

Your feet moved before your mind could stop them, carrying you closer. You stood before the mirror, your breath fogging the glass slightly as you studied yourself. Hesitantly, your hand lifted, trembling as your fingertips hovered just above the icy surface. You shouldn’t touch it. You knew you shouldn’t. But something about it was calling to you, drawing you in like the lure of a siren.

The instant your fingers brushed the glass, it happened.

A sudden force yanked you forward, your breath stolen as your vision blurred. You didn’t even have time to cry out as the cold wrapped around you, dragging you into the mirror. The world flipped and spun, shards of glass and light flashing all around you. Your reflection fractured into countless pieces, each one distorting your image—your face twisted, stretched, broken in ways that made your stomach lurch.

When you finally came to, the spinning stopped. You opened your eyes, but the sight that greeted you was nothing like the labyrinth you’d been running through.

You were inside the mirror.

The world around you was endless and disorienting. Shards of glass floated in the air, twisting and turning, each one reflecting a fractured image of you. Some pieces were small, no larger than a coin, while others were enormous, towering over you like walls. Each shard seemed to hum faintly, a sound that vibrated through your skull and made your head throb. You reached out to steady yourself, but there was nothing solid to hold on to—just the endless, shifting glass.

You felt dizzy, your legs weak as you struggled to comprehend where you were. The reflections moved strangely, showing parts of yourself that weren’t in the same position as the rest of you. It was like watching a puzzle where the pieces didn’t quite fit.

Then, a voice.

It cut through the humming like a blade, low and smooth, with an icy edge that sent a chill straight to your core.

“Oh, you poor thing,” the voice purred, dripping with mockery. “So eager to touch what you shouldn’t. Did you really think the mirror was just for show?”

You whipped your head around, searching for the source, but there was no one there—just more glass reflecting your panicked face.

The voice chuckled, soft and cold. “Do you like it in here? It’s my little masterpiece. Every broken shard tells a story, you see. And now, you’ve become part of it.”

You spun in place, your breaths coming faster. “Where are you?!”

The laughter grew louder, echoing all around you, each shard vibrating with the sound, but he did not answer you.

Instead the glass around you began to shift, the shards rearranging themselves into new patterns. They moved closer, boxing you in, the reflections multiplying until it felt like you were being watched by a thousand versions of yourself—and something else.

In one of the largest shards, his reflection appeared. The killer.

He stood just on the other side of the glass, staring at you with a calm expression. Slowly, he raised his gloved hand and pressed it to the glass, the icy surface fogging slightly under his touch.

Your breath hitched as you stumbled back, you moved until your back hit something solid—the mirror you’d touched before.

Before you could process what was happening, the glass behind you pulled you in again. The world spun, shards flying past your vision as you felt that same sickening tug. A freezing chill washed over you, and then suddenly—

You were out.

Your feet hit solid ground, and you collapsed forward onto your hands and knees, gasping for air. The disorientation left you dizzy, your head pounding as you tried to steady yourself. The cold still clung to you, biting at your skin like a lingering phantom of the mirror world.

You forced yourself to your feet, legs shaky and unsteady, your breath coming out in frantic clouds. As you looked around, you froze.

This wasn’t where you’d been before.

Instead, you were in a dark, underground section of the estate. The air here was thicker, heavier. The walls around you were frozen, their icy surfaces glinting faintly.

Above you, sharp icicles hung dangerously from the ceiling. They were long and jagged, some as thick as your arm, and looked as though they could fall at the slightest provocation.

You took a cautious step forward, the crunch of snow under your boot echoing unnaturally loud. Your eyes darted upward, watching the icicles sway ever so slightly. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. One wrong move, one too-loud sound, and those deadly spikes could come crashing down.

“Stay calm,” you thought to yourself.

You continued forward, your steps careful and measured. The way revealed more of the icy corridor ahead, branching off into several paths.

Then you heard it.

A faint, distant crack.

Footsteps.

Your blood ran cold. He was here.

You turned, your eyes darting around for any sign of an escape, but you were offered nothing more but dead ends.

Then his voice cut through the air, smooth and taunting.

“You can’t run forever.”

You turned sharply, picking a path at random and running, your boots sliding on the slick ground.

Behind you, the footsteps quickened, you didn’t dare look back, the sense of him closing in enough to keep you moving forward.

You rounded a corner and skidded to a halt.

A dead end.

And the only way out was the way you’d come. You spun around, your back pressed against the frozen wall, your breath ragged as you watched the corridor you’d just come from.

The footsteps stopped.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then, slowly, he stepped into view, his towering frame filling the narrow passage as he took a step forward.

You pressed harder against the wall, your fingers numb from the cold, your mind racing for a way out. But there was none.

He stopped just a few feet from you, his breath visible in the icy air.

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gloved fingers brushing along the edge of the mirror shard in his hand and slowly, his gaze began to travel downward, starting at your face, moving over the trembling rise and fall of your chest, your arms clinging tightly to yourself, and finally down to your legs and boots, still trembling slightly from your desperate run.

A low hum escaped his lips, soft and almost contemplative, a sound that sent chills crawling up your spine, as if he were truly appreciating what he saw.

“You’re exquisite,” he murmured, his voice smooth. He took another step forward, closing the already-small distance between you. You pressed harder against the frozen wall, your entire body stiffening as he leaned closer.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe.

His pale hand rose slowly, as if to savor the moment. You flinched as his fingers brushed against your cheek, and the touch was so cold it burned. You froze entirely, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as your teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. The air left your lungs in short, visible puffs as your body tried in vain to fight the cold spreading from where his hand lingered.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly, his tone almost... tender. He tilted his head again, his lips curving into a faint, chilling smile. “No need to be afraid, my dear. I wouldn’t dare ruin something so... beautiful.”

You stared up at him, wide-eyed and trembling, your body refusing to obey your frantic thoughts screaming at you to move, to run, to do something. But the cold was paralyzing.

His hand trailed along your cheek, the frozen burn spreading as he brushed his thumb over your jawline, tracing the edge of your face with unsettling care. “Your face... so delicate. So perfect.”

His cold breath brushed against your face, his voice no louder than a whisper. “Your eyes...” His thumb stopped, resting just beneath one of them, his frosted breath clouding in the air between you. “So full of life. So bright, even now. You’re unlike any I’ve seen before.”

You couldn’t respond. The cold had stolen your voice, your teeth chattering too hard for you to form words. He didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he appeared amused by your silence.

“You’re trembling so much,” he murmured, his hand shifting to brush a strand of hair from your face, the motion almost... gentle. “Is it the cold? Or... me?”

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost brushing your ear as he whispered, “Perhaps both.”

You wanted to scream, to shove him away, to do anything, but all you could do was stand there, trapped in his icy grip. You felt like you were being frozen alive.

His hand moved to your neck, his fingers grazing your skin as he chuckled, his breath like a biting winter wind. “I could keep you here forever,” he mused, his tone almost dreamy, as if the idea truly pleased him. “Frozen, perfect, untouchable. Just... mine.”

His words sent a wave of panic crashing over you, momentarily snapping you out of the icy haze clouding your mind. Your body twitched, an instinctive attempt to break free, but his grip tightened slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you just how powerless you were in this moment.

“You’re frightened,” he said, his tone shifting to one of mock sympathy. “Good. Fear suits you.”

And just as the tears began to sting your eyes from the cold and helplessness, his fingers left your skin, and he pulled back slightly. He studied you for a moment longer, as if committing every detail of your face to memory.

Then, in a soft, almost wistful tone, he murmured, “Run.”

Your heart skipped a beat, your mind barely processing the command before his smirk widened and he stepped back, his hand once again gripping the icy shard at his side.

“Go,” he said, his voice sharper now, like the crack of frozen glass. “Let’s see how far you can get.”

The moment your body allowed it, you bolted, stumbling past him and into the freezing corridors, his cold laughter echoing behind you like the toll of a bell.

Your legs carried you forward, slipping and stumbling over the icy ground. The sound of his laughter followed you, echoing through the frozen halls. It was as though it bounced off the very walls, coming at you from all directions, mocking your panic and desperation.

The floor beneath you shifted unexpectedly, the ice slick and uneven. Your foot slipped, and you went sprawling to the ground with a sharp gasp. The impact jarred your body, pain shooting up your arm as you braced your fall. For a moment, the world spun, the sound of your ragged breathing filling your ears.

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up already,” his voice called out, closer than it should have been.

Your head snapped up, and you realized the light above you had shifted. You turned your gaze slowly upward, and there he was, standing just above you.

“You’re quite resilient,” he mused, his icy voice calm, almost teasing. “But you’re slowing down. The cold is catching up to you.”

Panic surged through you, overriding the pain in your arm as you scrambled to your feet. You bolted again, ignoring the way your legs screamed in protest.

Then you spotted it.

A faint glow ahead—warm and flickering, like firelight. Fire.. fire meant heat, warmth and safety.

The glow grew brighter as you neared it, and you realized it was coming from an arched doorway. Beyond it, you could see the orange flicker of flames. You practically threw yourself through the opening, your body collapsing in front of the roaring fireplace in the center of the room.

The warmth hit you like a wave, washing over your frozen skin and sending sharp, painful tingles through your fingers and toes as the feeling began to return. You gasped for air, curling into yourself as the heat began to thaw the icy grip that had taken hold of your body.

But the relief was short-lived.

You turned your head slightly, and your stomach dropped. The room wasn’t empty.

Surrounding you were tall mirrors, each one angled slightly toward the fireplace. They reflected the room in perfect, chilling detail. And in every single one, he was there, standing behind you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you whipped around, but the room was empty.

The mirrors, however, told a different story. He stood just behind your reflection, his piercing blue eye meeting yours through the glass.

“Did you think the fire would save you?” his voice echoed around the room, no longer calm but mocking.

The flames in the fireplace flickered violently, the warmth suddenly waning as frost began to creep across the floor toward you. The temperature plummeted, the ice spreading like veins across the room and snuffing out the fire entirely.

You stumbled backward, heart racing as you turned to face one of the mirrors. He was no longer just standing there—he was moving. Slowly, deliberately, his reflection stepped forward, closing the distance between himself and yours.

Before you could react, a hand shot out of the glass, his icy fingers gripping your wrist with inhuman strength. You screamed as the cold burned your skin, his grip dragging you closer to the mirror.

“Don’t fight it,” he said softly, his voice echoing in your ears as the shards within the mirrors began to hum again. “You belong with me now.”

You struggled against him, your free hand clawing at the icy surface of the mirror as it began to pull you in. The frost crawled up your arm, spreading rapidly as the world around you began to distort, shards of glass spinning wildly in your peripheral vision.

With one final yank, he pulled you through the mirror.

The last thing you saw before everything went black was your own reflection, frozen in terror, staring back at you as the shards swallowed you whole.

You jolted awake with a gasp, your body trembling violently. The cold was overwhelming, gripping you like an unrelenting vice, and as you looked around, your heart sank. You were back in the mirror realm.

The shards around you showed you in unnatural ways. Every angle of yourself felt alien, wrong, like the mirror was trying to break you down piece by piece.

“No,” you whispered, voice weak and trembling, your breath fogging up the air in front of you. Your legs were shaky, but you forced yourself to stand.

There was no time to waste. You spotted another mirror—a whole one this time—standing pristine just a few feet away. Summoning every ounce of courage, you stepped toward the mirror. This time, you didn’t pause to study your reflection. You didn’t let yourself think. You pressed your palm flat against the cold, smooth surface.

The pull came instantly, like an icy wind yanking you forward. Your body jerked as you were sucked into the mirror’s depths once more. The same nauseating sensation returned and you clenched your teeth to keep from screaming.

Then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

You stumbled forward, your feet catching against a thick rug as you fell to your knees. You blinked, the room slowly coming into focus.

It was another part of the manor, entirely different from where you’d been before. The walls were still coated in frost, but it was quieter. You looked up to see a grand fireplace crackling with warm, golden flames. A luxurious couch sat nearby, its velvet cushions looking inviting, though a thin layer of frost clung to the edges.

You didn’t hesitate. The fire called to you like salvation itself.

You dragged yourself to your feet, stumbling toward the fireplace. The warmth hit you in waves, and you let out a shuddering breath as you collapsed onto the rug in front of it, stretching your trembling hands toward the flames.

The heat seeped into your frozen skin, painful at first as the biting cold fought to stay. You held your hands closer, rubbing them together desperately as you tried to thaw yourself.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to relax. Your body still shook from the adrenaline and cold, but the warmth was soothing, grounding you.

You took a glance around the room, taking in your surroundings. It was richly decorated, though the frost and time had dulled its once-luxurious beauty. A massive portrait hung above the fireplace, but the frost obscured the faces in the painting, making it impossible to make out who—or what—it depicted.

The couch loomed nearby, its plush cushions tempting, but you didn’t dare sit. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down for long, not when he could appear at any moment. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, despite the fire’s warmth.

You stared back into the flames, your mind racing. The mirrors... they were clearly part of his power, his trap, but they also seemed to be a way to move through the manor.

But even as you thought that, the sound of footsteps echoed faintly down the hall.

Your heart leapt into your throat, the warmth of the fire suddenly feeling far too distant. You froze, every instinct screaming at you to move, to hide, but your body refused to obey.

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel the chill creeping back into the room, the warmth of the fire retreating as if it couldn’t stand him.

“Found you,” his voice purred, low and laced with amusement.

Your body tensed as you slowly turned your head toward him, your breath hitching in your throat. He was closer than you expected—far closer. You hadn’t even heard him cross the room, but there he was, towering over you.

You gasped, your back pressing harder against the rug as though you could somehow melt into the floor to escape him.

He reached out, trailing dangerously close to your face, but he stopped just short of touching you. His icy breath curled in the air as he tilted his head, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe.

“I should end this,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, but there was an edge to it—an emotion you couldn’t quite place. “You’re the last one left. There’s no one else. No one coming to save you.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. The others were gone. Nancy, the others—they’d all fallen to him. You were alone.

He crouched suddenly, leaning over you with a grace that felt almost unnatural. His free hand came to rest on the floor beside you, pinning you in place with his sheer presence. You tried to scoot back, but the icy chill radiating from him seemed to freeze you in place.

“But…” he continued, his voice softer now, contemplative, “I can’t bear to ruin something so… perfect.”

His words caught you off guard, and your eyes widened as he his hand brushed your jaw, his cold fingers gripping gently but firmly. You sucked in a sharp breath, expecting the freezing touch to sting, to burn like the cold always had before.

But it didn’t.

Instead, his touch was… comforting. The cold seeped into your skin, chasing away the ache from the fire’s heat. It was strangely soothing, like the cool side of a pillow on a restless night, or the air of an early winter morning.

Your body reacted involuntarily, your tense muscles relaxing slightly despite the fear coursing through you.

It all left you disoriented.

“You see,” he murmured, his fingers tightening slightly against your jaw, tilting your face up so your eyes met his. “There’s something about you, survivor. Something… different.”

His gaze roamed your features with an unsettling intensity, his icy breath brushing against your face. You tried to look away, but his grip kept you firmly in place.

“You’ve caught my attention,” he continued, his voice dipping lower, almost intimate. “And that doesn’t happen often.”

You didn’t even respond—couldn’t even respond.

“Tell me,” he whispered, his voice soft but commanding, “are you afraid of me?”

Your heart thundered in your chest, but the answer wasn’t as simple as it should’ve been. Fear clung to you, yes—but so did something else. Something you couldn’t quite name.

When you didn’t answer, his lips curled into a faint, chilling smile. “No matter,” he murmured. “I’ll find out soon enough.”

His hand trailed down to your throat. The cold seeped deeper now, sending a shiver down your spine. His grip was firm but not constricting.

“You’re lucky,” he said softly, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze again. “I’ve decided to spare you. For now.”

“But don’t think for a moment that you’re free,” he added, his voice colder now, sharper.

Before you could even react, his cold, strong hands gripped your waist. A startled gasp escaped your lips as he hoisted you effortlessly into the air, slinging you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“W-What?” you stammered, your breath hitching as you felt the solid, cold muscle beneath his tattered suit.

He didn’t talk, nor did he falter as he began walking, his movements steady. You squirmed slightly, your hands pressed against his broad shoulder in an attempt to push yourself free, but his grip on you was firm, unyielding.

It was then that you noticed something strange—the ground beneath his feet was transforming. With every step he took, the floor froze over, leaving a trail of ice in his wake.

Behind him, the mirror shard he dragged in his hand left another trail, the jagged glass carving faint grooves into the icy floor. It gleamed faintly, catching the dim light of the room, but it was the strange magic in it that drew your attention. The frost along the edges seemed alive, swirling and shimmering in ways that didn’t seem natural.

And the mirrors along the walls reflected your current state back at you. It was almost unrecognizable.

Your hair was dusted with frost, strands glittering like they were laced with snowflakes. Your lashes and brows were coated in icy crystals, and your lips… they looked pale, almost blue, like the color had been drained by the biting cold. Even your skin had taken on a frosty tint, its natural warmth replaced by something delicate and ethereal.

You blinked at the reflection, your breath catching. For a moment, you almost didn’t look like yourself. You looked… otherworldly, like you belonged here, in this frozen hellscape he commanded. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and not just from the cold.

“I see you’ve noticed,” his voice rumbled, deep and laced with amusement. You jolted slightly at the sound of it, and your gaze darted to the back of his head.

“What—what’s happening to me?” you demanded, though your voice came out shaky, far weaker than you intended.

“It suits you,” he said simply, his tone calm, almost admiring. “The frost, the cold. It brings out something… exquisite.”

His words sent a strange mix of emotions coursing through you. You weren’t sure whether to feel flattered or horrified.

“Let me go,” you hissed, though there was little force behind your words.

“No,” he replied, almost lazily, as though the very idea amused him. “Not yet.”

His footsteps echoed as he carried you deeper into the manor. You couldn’t tell where he was taking you, but the icy walls became thicker the further you went.

The air felt colder than ever when he suddenly stopped, and without warning, he threw you down, the impact rattling through your body as you hit the frozen ground. A hiss escaped your lips at the cold biting into your palms, but the sting didn’t linger for long—because that’s when you saw it.

The hatch.

It was right in front of you, its familiar wooden frame stark against the glistening frost around it. Your heart leapt in disbelief. He was letting you go.

You looked up at him, confusion and suspicion warring within you. Was this some sort of trap? But when your eyes met his, he was already staring at you, his calm, piercing gaze sending shivers down your spine.

He crouched down, his movement eerily graceful, and brought his hand to your cheek once more. The coldness of his touch was no longer unbearable—almost like your skin had adjusted to the frost.

“You survived, little one,” he whispered, his voice soft and low, laced with something unidentifiable.

His breath curled in a frosty mist around your face as he leaned closer, his lips just a whisper away from your ear.

“I’ll see you real soon.”

Before you could say anything—before you could even think of a response—he rose to his full height, turned, and walked away.

You didn’t wait to see if he would change his mind. Scrambling forward, you gripped the edge of the hatch and pulled yourself in.

The cold vanished immediately as you fell, the icy chill replaced by a strange weightlessness. For a moment, you floated in nothingness, then, with a thud, you landed on the soft, familiar dirt of the survivor’s camp.

Warmth washed over you instantly, and you sucked in a deep breath, relief flooding through you. You looked around, the familiar sights of the campfire, scattered supplies, and makeshift shelters grounding you. It was over. The trial was over.

But as you sat there, staring into the fire’s comforting glow, the memory of his voice lingered in your mind. His words. His touch. His frost.

He had let you go.

--

Your next few trials were nothing short of a nightmare—though, what else was new? First, it was The Trapper, he had almost caught you at the exit gate, but a perfectly timed flashlight save from one of the other survivors gave you just enough time to slip away.

Then, there was Ghostface. His knife had grazed your back once, almost claiming you as you worked on a generator, but somehow, you managed to outmaneuver him, staying just steps ahead of his blade. The trial ended with you sprinting through the exit gate, heart pounding and lungs burning.

But just when you thought you could catch your breath, the Entity had other plans.

The next time the fog swallowed you up and spat you into a new trial, the familiar chill hit you like a slap to the face.

Your boots crunched against the snow as you took in your surroundings, your breath already visible in the icy air. Dead, frostbitten hedges towered around you, stretching into a labyrinth.

Your stomach dropped.

His map. Again.

You took a cautious step forward, trying to steady your breathing as the icy wind bit into your skin.

It didn’t take long before the sound of a generator humming faintly reached your ears. You turned a corner in the maze, spotting one sitting in the center of a small clearing. A teammate—Claudette—was already crouched by it, working diligently.

Relief washed over you as you made your way to her. If you could stick together, you’d have a better chance of survival. But as you reached her side and knelt to help, you couldn’t shake the sensation of being watched.

Your hands trembled slightly as you worked, the cold making it hard to grip the wired properly. Then, without warning, Claudette stiffened beside you, her eyes widening in panic.

“Run,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the howling wind.

You didn’t need to ask why. The frost on the ground spreading, creeping toward you like a living thing, said as much.

You turned your head just enough to catch a glimpse of him.

The Frost Warden. At least that is what you and the other has started calling him.

You bolted at the sight of him, the snow crunching loudly beneath your feet as you tore through the maze. The icy wind whipped at your face, stinging your skin, but you didn’t dare look back.

The sound of Claudette’s scream echoed faintly behind you, and guilt clawed at your chest, but you couldn’t stop now.

You turned another corner, your lungs burning from the cold air, and skidded to a stop, nearly stumbling when you saw it—a generator, partially hidden by the frost-covered hedges. Relief mixed with panic surged through you. You had no idea where the others were, but you couldn’t let this chance go to waste.

You ran to it, skidding slightly on the icy ground, and immediately knelt by its side. Your fingers, stiff and numb from the cold, fumbled as you began working. The gears groaned faintly, resisting your touch, but you forced yourself to focus, biting your lip to keep your hands steady.

The sound of the Frost Warden’s footsteps had faded behind you, but you knew better than to assume he’d given up the chase. He didn’t need to run to catch you. This map was his domain, and you were just another mouse trapped in his frozen maze.

The generator sputtered as you fixed another wire, the hum growing louder with each successful connection. Your breath clouded the air in front of you as you worked, the sound of the engine beginning to mask the distant howling wind.

But then, a faint shimmer in the corner of your vision made you freeze.

You glanced up, heart sinking, and spotted a mirror embedded into the wall of the hedges just a few feet away. Its surface rippled faintly, like water disturbed by a pebble, and your reflection stared back at you—pale, frostbitten, and wide-eyed with fear.

For a second, nothing happened. The mirror was still, almost taunting you. But then, the rippling grew stronger, and your blood turned to ice.

You didn’t wait to see what would come through. You turned back to the generator, frantically working to finish it, but your trembling hands slowed you down. The gears groaned again, protesting against your haste.

Behind you, the mirror shimmered one last time, and then the unmistakable sound of footsteps crunching through the snow filled the air.

Slow, deliberate, and far too close.

“Fixing something, are we?” The Frost Warden’s icy voice was low and calm, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

You whipped your head around, your heart leaping into your throat. He stood just a few feet away, his tall figure looming over you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His piercing blue eye studied you, sharp and calculating.

“I have to admit,” he said, taking a slow step closer, “I enjoy watching you struggle. It’s... captivating.”

You scrambled to your feet, hands trembling as you backed away from the generator. He tilted his head slightly, his calm expression never faltering, and took another step forward. The frost beneath his feet spread outward with each step, creeping across the ground and curling around the base of the generator.

You wanted to run, to put as much distance between you and him as possible, but your legs felt like lead. The cold seemed to seep into your bones, rooting you in place as his icy gaze bore into you.

“Go on,” he said softly, gesturing with the shard. “Run. Fight. Survive. That’s what you do best, isn’t it?”

His words felt like a taunt, and something inside you snapped. You turned on your heel and bolted, the sound of his low, icy chuckle following you as you disappeared into the labyrinth once more.

Your boots slipped slightly on the frost-slick ground as you sprinted deeper into the labyrinth. Every turn you made felt like the wrong one, the frozen hedges looming high around you, cutting off your sense of direction.

You refused to look back. You couldn’t.

Panic clawed at your chest as you skidded around another corner, narrowly avoiding an ice-coated statue that seemed to glare down at you like a silent sentinel. Your breath was visible in the air, coming in ragged, uneven gasps.

A faint light caught your eye—another generator. This one stood in the center of an open clearing, its dull hum barely audible over the wind. You didn’t hesitate. Sliding to a stop, you crouched beside it, your trembling hands fumbling as you grabbed your tools.

Your fingers were numb, making it even harder to work, but you forced yourself to focus. The wires were stiff and brittle, like they might snap under too much pressure, but you managed to connect them, one by one.

The generator sputtered to life, its engine coughing loudly as it struggled against the cold. You winced at the noise, glancing over your shoulder, half-expecting to see him standing there, watching. But there was no one. So you took that chance.

Standing up up you sprinted back through the labyrinth, turning sharply around a frozen hedge, when a faint hum caught your ears. Another generator. Your heart leapt with a sliver of hope, and as you rounded the corner, you saw him—Bill.

He was hunched over the last few wires of the generator, his rough hands expertly finishing the job. Sparks flew, and the machine roared to life just as you skidded to a stop nearby.

"Bill!" you gasped, barely able to get the word out as you stumbled toward him, your breath clouding in the icy air.

He looked up sharply, his cigarette dangling from his lips, and his eyes widened when he saw you. "Kid, what the hell are you doin'?" he barked, but before you could answer, the faint crunch of footsteps made both of you freeze.

You didn’t need to say a word. Bill’s face hardened instantly, his sharp instincts kicking in. “Go. Now,” he growled, stepping between you and the sound of approaching frost.

“Bill—”

“Don’t argue with me! Get your ass outta here!” he snapped, pulling his flashlight from his belt.

After a moment of hesitation you turned and bolted, your feet slipping slightly on the frozen ground as you took off deeper into the maze. Behind you, you heard Bill shout, “Come on, you bastard! You want someone? Come get me!”

You risked a glance back just in time to see the Frost Warden emerge from the mist, his tall figure cutting an imposing silhouette. His icy blue eye locked onto Bill.

“Come on dammit!!” Bill yelled, his voice fierce.

You didn’t look back after that. You ran, your legs burning as you pushed forward, weaving through the labyrinth. The sound of their confrontation grew fainter with each step, replaced by the distant hum of generators and the faint howl of the wind.

It wasn’t until you burst through a gap in the hedges and saw the glowing lights of the exit gate in the distance that you realized you were finally in the clear. Your chest heaved, your lungs burning from the effort, but you forced yourself to keep going.

As you reached the gate, you found one of your teammates already there, working frantically to pull the lever. They glanced at you, relief washing over their face as the gate screeched open with a metallic groan.

With one last glance at the icy maze, you stepped through the gate, the warmth of safety washing over you.

--

You hated the smug, talkative killers. The ones who couldn’t just do their job silently but instead had to taunt, flirt, or throw out some sarcastic quip every chance they got. It wasn’t enough for them to hook you or slash at you—they had to make it personal, priding themselves on the mental games they played.

Killers like that were rare, but when you encountered them, you dreaded every moment of the trial. They made it unbearable, turning what was already a desperate fight for survival into a drawn-out performance where they were the star of the show.

The worst part? They always had that air of superiority, acting as if they were untouchable. They thrived on your frustration, your fear, and sometimes even your silence.

“Aw, don’t run now. We were just getting to know each other!”

You could hear their voice ringing in your ears even now, a mocking lilt that made your skin crawl. Some of them flirted, their words dripping with twisted charm as they chased you through the trial, their weapons raised.

“You look so cute when you’re terrified.”

Others just talked endlessly, like they needed you to know how clever or sadistic they were. They’d narrate every move, every mistake you made, as if you weren’t already painfully aware of how close you were to getting caught.

“Really? That’s the best you can do? You should’ve vaulted back there—might’ve lasted a bit longer.”

And then there were the ones who wouldn’t shut up when they hooked you, leaning down like they had all the time in the world, their breath hot against your skin.

“Don’t take it personally, sweetheart. It’s just business… though you do make it so much fun.”

You hated them. All of them.

It wasn’t just the humiliation—it was how they got under your skin, how their words stayed with you even after the trial was over. You could still feel the phantom weight of their hands brushing against your skin as they carried you, hear the mocking laughter as they walked away from the hook, leaving you there to struggle.

And yet, even if he wasn’t as insufferable as the others, he still had that pridefulness about him—this confidence that made him believe he was better than you, better than all of you. He didn’t need to taunt or jeer with endless, childish words like some of the others, but when he spoke, his voice carried weight. His words lingered, cutting deep, mocking you with a sly edge, and worse, when he flirted… it wasn’t just for show.

There was no humor in his tone, no casual arrogance like the smug Ghostface or the loud-mouthed Trickster. When he spoke to you, it felt like there was intent behind every word. Like he meant it.

That’s why, when you dropped into the Hawkins Lab, you let out a quiet breath of relief, assuming the Demogorgon was the killer this time. The mechanical hum of the underground facility echoed faintly, and you thought maybe you’d gotten lucky for once.

But then you felt it—the subtle, growing thump of your heartbeat.

You froze.

The air changed. A chill crept over your skin, one that was unmistakable.

The frost.

Your breath hitched as your eyes darted around the dimly lit corridors, and when you saw the faint mist curling along the ground, your stomach dropped.

It was him.

He was the killer this round.

Your pulse quickened, the memory of your last encounter with him flooding your mind. You didn’t know if you were ready to face him again. But ready or not, he was here. Somewhere.

And he was already hunting.

You crept through the winding halls of the lab, the flickering fluorescent lights casting eerie shadows on the steel walls. The chill in the air followed you, prickling at your skin as if a warning.

Finally, in a quieter part of the lab, tucked into a dead-end room, you found a generator. Relief washed over you as you crouched beside it, letting your fingers hover over the familiar knobs and wires. You could do this.

Your hands worked quickly, tightening bolts and rewiring panels, the sound of the generator humming softly beneath your touch. But then, from somewhere deep in the lab, a scream pierced the silence.

It was sharp, panicked, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

One of the others had found him—or, more accurately, he had found them.

Your instinct screamed at you to stop what you were doing, to run and hide before he got too close. But you couldn’t afford to waste time. You couldn’t leave the generator unfinished, and there was no guarantee you’d find another quiet spot like this again.

So you stayed.

Your fingers trembled as you twisted the last wire into place, forcing yourself to focus on the task. Every tick of the generator felt like an eternity, each movement of your hand making your heart pound harder.

And then you felt it—the subtle change in the air.

The frost crept in, curling along the edges of the room like icy tendrils reaching for you.

Your breath fogged as the chill kissed your skin, and your stomach sank just as the generator roared to life, cutting through the silence of the lab.

And then you saw it.

To your left, just beyond the doorway, the faint red glow.

Your heart sank.

The telltale light killers carried with them—always a warning, always a death sentence if you weren’t fast enough. And just past the glow, you saw him.

He stood there, completely still for a moment, then his head tilted slightly, almost curiously, before he took a single step forward. The frost beneath his feet deepened, spreading faster across the floor, as if it were alive and hungry to reach you.

"Impressive," he murmured, his voice smooth and cold, yet carrying a dangerous edge. "You finished the generator all alone? Clever little thing, aren’t you?"

Your legs finally obeyed you, and you stumbled backward, your shoulder hitting the wall as you tried to put distance between yourself and him. But there was nowhere to go—no other exits, no windows to climb through.

He stepped fully into the room now, the red glow of his presence bathing the small space as he closed the distance with unnerving calmness.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, his lips curling into the faintest smirk as his free hand reached out, his frosted fingers brushing lightly against the wall beside your head.

"I’ve been looking forward to this," he whispered. "Don’t disappoint me now."

Well.. he said it.

With your back against the wall and his towering figure leaning in too close, you knew there was only one way out of this.

Before he could react, you drove your knee up with all your strength, slamming it into his stomach.

He staggered back, a sharp groan tearing from his throat as his hand instinctively moved to his abdomen.

"Really?" he hissed, his voice low and laced with irritation.

But you didn’t stick around to hear what else he had to say. The moment you saw him falter, you bolted.

You sprinted past him, your boots skidding slightly on the frosted floor as you rounded the doorway and darted back into the dimly lit hallways of Hawkins Lab.

You could hear him behind you now—not running, but walking. Slow, deliberate, as if he wasn’t worried about catching up.

And that made it worse.

You risked a glance over your shoulder and immediately regretted it.

He was there, just a few meters behind you. “Running again, are we?” he called out. “You should know by now—you can’t outrun the cold.”

You turned sharply around another corner, your breath hitching in your chest, but suddenly—bam!—another survivor came barreling around the corner.

“Watch it!” they hissed, just as panicked as you. It was Meg, her red hair sticking to her sweaty forehead, her eyes wide with fear. But before either of you could exchange another word, an icy gust cut through the hallway, and Meg’s eyes widened further.

“Run!” she shouted, but it was too late.

With a flick of his wrist, the shard slashed across Meg’s side, cutting through her jacket and drawing a scream from her lips.

You stumbled back, gasping as you watched in horror.

“Pathetic,” his cold, deep voice echoed, reverberating through the hallway. He stood over Meg, who writhed in pain at his feet, clutching her wound. “So flawed… so imperfect.” His tone was cutting, condescending, as if she were beneath him.

“You’re not worth my time,” he added, tilting his head as he stared down at her, his frostbitten fingers twitching.

Meg groaned and tried to crawl away, but he pressed the tip of his shard into the ground beside her, the ice creeping out in sharp, jagged patterns. He didn’t strike again, though—he didn’t need to. His words alone cut deeper than the shard itself.

“You’ve already been broken,” he sneered, stepping away from her as if she were nothing more than a discarded object.

From his side, he produced a small shard of mirror, its surface gleaming. He turned it in his hands with a strange gentleness, his icy fingers trailing along the edges of the shard as if it were a delicate treasure.

Meg whimpered, flinching as he tilted the shard toward her face. The distorted reflection that appeared in its surface made your breath hitch. It wasn’t just her face—it was a fractured version of her, revealing her deepest insecurities, her doubts, and fears. Her lips trembled as she stared at the cruel image, her reflection seeming to cry out silently as if begging for release.

"You see," he murmured, his voice quiet yet cutting, "this is what you truly are. Flawed. Fragile. Broken beyond repair."

Meg tried to look away, but he held the shard steady, forcing her to confront the image.

And then, with cold, unflinching precision, he drove the shard into her chest.

Her body arched with a strangled cry, her breath coming out in shallow gasps as the mirror shard pierced her heart.

Meg's movements stilled, her eyes glassy as the frost crept across her skin. He remained kneeling over her, watching as her life slipped away, the satisfaction in his expression subtle but unmistakable.

Standing slowly, he looked down at her lifeless body, his frosted hands carefully wiping the shard clean. He inspected it briefly, as if ensuring it was free of imperfection before tucking it away.

Then, he turned to you.

His icy blue eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“You however,” he said softly, his voice like frost creeping over glass, “are nothing like that.”

Your heart thundered in your chest as he began to move toward you, his steps slow and deliberate.

“So perfect,” he continued, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But even perfection can be elevated.”

He stopped just a few feet away, his presence overwhelming as he tilted his head. “How much more beautiful you’d be…” His voice dipped, a cold whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “…as part of the ice.”

Before you could move, before you could even think, he was on you. His cold hand pressed against your shoulder, driving you back until your spine hit the wall with a muted thud. The opposing sensations—his cold and the warmth your body clung to—warred within you, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

His gloved hand remained firm on your shoulder, holding you in place, while his other hand brushed against your cheek. The frost that followed his touch bloomed across your skin like a winter’s kiss, cold yet strangely… soothing.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his voice low and hypnotic, each word curling around you like an arctic breeze. “The warmth of life… fighting so desperately against the cold I bring.”

He leaned in closer, his breath brushing against your skin like a whisper of frost. “It’s beautiful… the way your body responds. How it resists, yet…” He tilted his head, “you don’t pull away.”

Your teeth chattered as you tried to speak, but no words came.

“You’re so… fragile,” he continued, his voice soft yet laced with a dangerous edge. “So alive. And yet…” His hand moved from your cheek to trail along your jawline, his touch featherlight but freezing. “…it would take so little to turn you into something eternal. A perfect sculpture of ice.”

Your chest heaved as you struggled to keep your composure, the weight of his words sinking in. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from yours now, his cold breath mingling with your warm exhalations.

“But not yet,” he whispered, his lips curling into that same pleased smirk. “Not when you’re this… captivating.”

His hand lingered for a moment longer before he suddenly stepped back, releasing you. The frost clinging to your skin and the wall behind you melted away almost instantly, leaving you trembling.

He turned away without another word, his presence still heavy in the air. For a moment, you thought he was leaving you, but then he glanced over his shoulder, his icy gaze piercing through you.

“Run,” he said softly, the word laced with chilling intent. “Let’s see how long that warmth of yours can last.”

Your breath hitched as the word settled in the air like a command, and without hesitation, your body obeyed. You pushed off the wall and bolted.

A sharp whoosh cut through the air, and you instinctively ducked, feeling the chilling breeze of his mirror shard slicing the air just behind you. It didn’t hit you—no, it never did—but it was close enough to send shivers crawling up your spine. He wasn’t trying to injure you. He wanted you to feel the cold, to know how close he was, to remind you that you were his to chase.

You rounded a corner, vaulting over a low counter in a desperate attempt to create some distance, but when you landed on the other side, his red light loomed just behind you. A low, cold laugh followed, echoing in the empty halls.

You made a sharp turn, vaulting over another obstacle, and finally, finally, you saw someone. A flash of movement—another survivor! Relief flooded through you as they ran toward you, their eyes wide with panic.

It was Jake.

He looked at you, then past you, his expression hardening as he realized who was chasing you. Without a word, he stepped forward, drawing the killer’s attention as you scrambled to the side, ducking into another hallway.

You hesitated for just a moment, watching as the killer’s calm gaze shifted to Jake. He didn’t speak this time, but there was something in his posture as if he were almost… displeased at the interruption.

Jake shouted, waving his arms to draw the killer further away. “Come one!” he yelled.

With one last glance, you turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, the sound of their footsteps fading behind you.

Eventually you found a dark, quiet corner where you could catch your breath.

You slumped against the wall, your body trembling from adrenaline and the lingering chill of his presence. Jake had bought you time, but you knew it wouldn’t last forever.

You stumbled into another corridor, your heart still racing as you scanned the area. The faint hum of a generator reached your ears, and you followed it like a lifeline. Turning a corner, your eyes landed on a half-finished generator sitting in the middle of a secluded room. Relief washed over you.

Quickly, you moved to it, crouching down and setting to work. Your hands shook, partially from the cold and partially from the lingering adrenaline, but you forced yourself to focus.

You flinched at the sudden distant sound of a scream. Someone had gone down—it was hard to tell who in the chaos of the trial—but you couldn’t think about that now.

Finally, the generator sparked to life, the room lighting up with the mechanical glow and you allowed yourself a small, shaky exhale of victory.

But then, the warmth in the air shifted.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end as the icy feeling grew stronger. You froze in place, barely breathing, your eyes darting around the room.

The ground near your feet began to frost over, thin trails of ice spreading across the floor.

Panic surged through you, and your eyes scanned the room desperately. There—a locker, tucked into the corner. Without hesitation, you sprinted for it, careful to avoid making too much noise. You slipped inside and shut the door as quietly as you could, pressing your back against the wooden wall.

You bit your lip to stop yourself from making a sound, every muscle in your body tensing as the steps grew louder, closer. The frost crept higher on the walls, spiderwebbing like cracks in a mirror.

You crouched lower in the locker, your eyes fixed on the small gaps in the slats. Through them, you could see his figure moving closer, the frost trailing in his wake. It spread across the walls, over the floor, and finally, onto the locker itself.

You could feel the chill seeping through, making the air inside colder and colder. Your breath hitched in your throat as you tried desperately to stay silent, but the icy metal at your back made it nearly impossible to stay still.

Through the small gaps, you watched as he stopped right in front of the locker. He stood there for a moment, his back partially turned, scanning the room.

You thought he might leave, but then he turned back, facing the locker directly, standing perfectly still, only inches away from where you were hiding. For a moment, he seemed to just stand there, listening, the silence pressing down like a weight.

The frost continued to spread, climbing up the locker door and along its edges. The cold bit into your skin, making you shiver involuntarily. And that was your mistake.

The faintest sound of your breath slipping past your lips was enough.

His head tilted slightly, his sharp blue eye narrowing as he leaned forward. From the small gap, you could see his mouth curl into a smirk.

“I know you’re in there,” he said, his voice a soft, chilling whisper that made the frost seem warmer in comparison.

You stiffened, pressing your back harder against the frozen wood as he tapped a single finger on the locker door. “Are we playing hide-and-seek now?” he continued, his tone laced with amusement. “I thought you’d know by now—” he paused, leaning closer, so close that you swore his frosty breath was fogging the slats, “—I always win.”

For a horrifying moment, you thought he was going to rip the door open, his hand hovering close. But instead, he straightened up, taking a step back.

You let out a shaky breath, thinking for a second that he might leave. But then he raised his mirror shard and dragged it lightly against the edge of the locker door, the screech of ice making you wince.

“You know,” he began, his voice smooth and quiet, almost too calm, “there’s something about you… something that exhilarates me.” He let out a low chuckle, dragging the shard along the door one last time before stopping. “I’ve encountered many survivors, and they all blur together after a while. But you…” He paused, leaning closer so his breath frosted the slats of the locker. “You’re not like that.”

You could barely breathe, your entire body frozen—not from the cold, but from his words. The way he spoke wasn’t like the other killers you’d faced. There was no mockery, no irritation at your defiance.

��You’re so... special,” he murmured, the shard now resting against the locker as if he were caressing it. “Every time I see you, it’s like I’m looking at something perfect.” He chuckled again, low and chilling. “It makes me want to keep you forever. Preserve that beauty. Make it mine.”

Your heart stopped as his words sunk in, your breath caught in your throat. Before you could think to do anything—before you could even try to scramble or scream—the door to the locker swung open.

“Caught you,” he said softly, as if this was nothing more than a game.

You gasped as his arms reached in, effortlessly grabbing you. The frost where his hands touched your skin seeped into you immediately.

“Struggling won’t help,” he said, almost teasingly, as you tried to push against him. “Not that I want you to. I quite like the way you tremble.”

Before you could protest, he hoisted you up with a strength that made your attempts at resistance seem laughable. Your world tilted as he threw you over his shoulder, his grip firm but not painful. Before he started walking through the lab, while you squirmed in his hold, but it was no use.

--

Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, he shifted you off his shoulder and set you down with surprising care onto a cold, metal control table in the center of the lab. The frost beneath his boots crept up the legs of the table, spreading like spiderwebs across the surface and surrounding you in a halo of icy mist.

You tried to sit up, but he leaned forward, his hand pressing against your shoulder to keep you in place. “You’re quite predictable, you know,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a tinge of amusement. “Always fighting. Always running. But here you are under me again.”

His lips curved into that same faint, knowing smirk that made your chest tighten. He shifted slightly closer, his free hand resting on the edge of the table, boxing you in.

“You’re the last one left again,” he murmured, almost like he was savoring the words. “Everyone else has fallen. And yet… here you are. Stubborn as ever.”

Your stomach twisted at his words. The others were gone. You were the last survivor again, and there was still one generator left to finish.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, your pulse thundering in your ears as you glanced around the room, searching desperately for some kind of opening, anything to get away. But his body blocked most of your view, and the frost on the walls behind him seemed to spread as if sealing off any potential escape.

“Such a mouth,” he teased, his voice almost a whisper now, his frosty breath grazing your lips. “But I like your fire. It makes it so much more satisfying to snuff it out.”

His hand moved slowly to rest on your chest, the chill of his touch sinking deep into your skin. A shiver ran down your spine as you watched in wide-eyed disbelief. Frost spread outward from where his palm met your chest, intricate patterns blooming like frozen flowers across your skin. It didn’t feel painful—it was cold, yes, but strangely gentle, almost mesmerizing. You couldn’t help but stare at the crystalline designs etching themselves over you.

“You see?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, laced with a quiet satisfaction. “Perfection.”

Your gaze snapped up to meet his as he stepped back slightly. His free hand rose, tugging at the edge of his cracked mirror mask. With a deliberate, almost theatrical motion, he removed it, letting the light fully illuminate his face for the first time.

He was… beautiful. His features were sharp and striking, carved with the same precision as the frost he wielded. A few thin scars adorned his face, faint but noticeable. His eyes glowed faintly, studying you intently, as though you were some kind of masterpiece he’d just completed.

“You complement me so perfectly now,” he said softly, as his eyes lingered on the frost spreading over your skin. His gaze was equal parts admiration and possessiveness, as if you were a creation he had shaped with his own hands.

You wanted to speak, to tell him to stop, to push him away, but the words caught in your throat. There was something about the way he looked at you that made it impossible to move.

“You’re so beautiful” he continued, his cold fingers tracing a line along the frost-covered patterns on your arms. “Now… now you’re mine. A canvas perfected by my touch.”

Your breathing hitched as his hand paused, his icy fingertips resting just over your racing pulse. His face was so close now that you could feel the frost in his breath, mingling with the warmth of yours.

“You’ve always stood out,” he said, his tone softening, almost tender. “Among all the others, you are the only one worth keeping.” As his hand rested on your chest, he leaned closer, his lips curling into a faint smile. “I wonder,” he mused softly, his voice almost a whisper now, “how much more beautiful you’ll be… once the ice fully claims you.”

Before you could react, he leaned in, his cold lips pressing against yours. The icy chill of his kiss sent a jolt through your body, and you gasped sharply, the frost on your skin seeming to tighten as if it were alive, responding to his touch. His lips, though cold, were strangely soft it left you reeling, unsure whether to pull away or melt into it.

His hands moved swiftly, capturing yours as your instincts kicked in to push him away. He intertwined his fingers with yours, locking them together. His grip wasn’t forceful, but it was firm, as though he was making sure you wouldn’t escape. The frost from his hands seeped into yours, spreading the intricate, shimmering patterns further up your arms.

When he pulled back, his lips hovered just inches from yours, and you could see his breath crystallizing in the cold air between you. “You even sound so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate, as though sharing a secret meant only for you. His thumbs brushed lightly over the backs of your hands, sending another shiver coursing through your body. “I could get used to hearing the sounds i could get out of you.”

You tried to tug your hands free, but his fingers tightened slightly, holding you there. “Why fight it?” he whispered, tilting his head, his tone almost coaxing. “You belong here. With me. Look at yourself—you’re already becoming part of the ice.”

Your gaze flickered downward for a moment, catching the glittering frost climbing your arms, wrapping around your wrists like delicate, frozen chains. It was as if the cold itself was claiming you, binding you to him.

“Don’t you see?” he continued, his voice filled with a chilling certainty. “No one else could ever understand your beauty the way I do. No one else could ever deserve you.”

His hands tightened just slightly around yours, pulling you closer as his lips brushed against your ear. “Let me show you how much you mean to me,” he whispered, his breath icy against your skin, sending another shiver down your spine.

His hands suddenlt slid to the hem of your sweater, the cold of his fingers making your breath hitch as he slowly pulled the fabric upward. The icy chill wrapped around you like a second skin, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

As the fabric bunched up, exposing more of your skin, you felt his lips brush against your stomach—a fleeting, ghostly kiss that left a trail of frost in its wake. His kisses were cold but delicate, as if he were crafting something beautiful out of your very existence. The frost spread wherever his lips touched, etching intricate, crystalline patterns onto your skin like a frozen work of art.

You shivered, your teeth threatening to chatter as the frost claimed more of you, but the chill didn’t burn.

“You don’t even realize how perfect you are, do you?” he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing along the curve of your collarbone. His voice was softer now, almost tender. “Each mark I leave… it suits you. Makes you mine.”

His hands trailed along your sides, the frost blooming under his touch like winter flowers. You gasped softly as his lips pressed against your chest, leaving behind more intricate frost.

“I could cover every inch of you,” he continued, his voice deepening as he leaned back to admire his handiwork. His eyes sparkled with an unearthly glow as they traced the frosty designs now covering your skin. “You were made for this. For me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something, but the words caught in your throat as he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours so faintly it was maddening. “Don’t fight it,” he whispered, his voice as chilling as his touch. “You’re already mine.”

The frost tightened its hold on you, the cold sinking deeper into your skin as if binding you to him, you couldn’t tell whether it was fear or something else entirely keeping you from pulling away.

a/n: my mom is sick so i was filling up a hot water bag but i squeezed too tight so i spilled the water on my chest :p pray my piercing dont get irritated...

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[bibiana112]

fuck waiting until friday to get my cardio appointment actually

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

 Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all. 

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again.  Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke. 

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him. 

You were his family after all.

[diejager]

can we have more of phoenix! reader? 🥺 i feel like they (as a baby bird) would build a nest on Price's belly cuz he's SUPER WARM and also he breathes out fire and that's perfect for the lil birby

Cw: reader being cheeky, teasing, biting/pecking, tell me if I missed any.

Having you on… ”leave” was hard when you were right there, clicking and chirping from your high perch on Price’s head, watching them being treated by another medic with your black eyes. They were reluctant - Ghost especially - to be touched and cared by someone else, hesitant to accept her tender hands and muted sighs at their stubbornness. It irked them even more when you chirped on and on, cackling at them after they grumbled, beating your wings and sending sparks from your newly-grown feathers around you, amber lights burning within seconds.

And the worst of all, was how willing you were to being handled by her, preening and pushing your chest out, your orange feathers puffing up in a show of dignity under her loving gaze. They - all but Price - glared on, witnesses to you nuzzling against your replacement’s cheek, your head bumping the curve of her lips when she placed a small kiss atop your curled mane. Perhaps it was jealousy that boiled in their stomachs, an anger at not being able to coddle you and being envious about such affection given to others rather than them. 

Fortunately, she returned you to Price’s waiting hands, craddling you in his warm palms, fingers curled carefully to keep you unharmed and away from his claws despite your cheeky bites at them, clawed feet wrapping around his thumbs while you bit him. Even in your small and vulnerable state, you were still so cheeky —a bastard, really, playing their hearts, knowing full well they would never stop you. They figured you’d stay as small as you were until the next day, where you’d keep growing and maturing until you reached your peak, a beauty to admire and bewilder at —or so Price said. 

Within the next week, the clock striking the start of a new one, you’d lost your curled and fluffy feathers, the protective layer to keep you warm, and had started growing long and silken ones, coloured a majestic scarlet and gold. You could fly rather than hop around, your little feet rarely taking you far, and you took full pleasure of landing wherever you wanted. Largely Price’s stomach, the rumbling fire within him keeping him alive - a burning core, his beating heart - worked well to replaced the nest you’d usually need, nestled over the fold of his abdomen and happily sighing.

Then your feathers grew out, longer and sturdier, the ends curled upwards, your crown of scarlet feathers making you look noble from your perch (the one Price took out of storage in your closet and placed in the rec room), head held high and lean body still and watchful. You were, exactly as Price had promised, a beauty to the eye, the noble phoenix cloaked in fire and royalty in the grey and gloomy base. A taste of vibrant life within these cold walls, enchanting with your chirpy songs, healing with your little tears and surprising strength. And yet, you were still the cheeky bastard you were as a chick, a cackle rippling through your throat when they fumbled around, trying to catch you after you stole things right out of their hands. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @angelcakes-22 @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mul-pi @danielle143 @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @luvecarson @petwifed @randominstake @heartelysia @jggykhug09090 @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @call-me-nyxx @sans-chara @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @thigh-o-saur @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce @sobbingnshtting

[presleyluvschris]

Join The Dream

alive!luke patterson x girlbestfriend!reader

a/n: not requested, back after 4 months!

desc luke didnt know you could sing after years of being your best friend

wc - 1.8k

warnings slight cursing, fluff, grammar, not proof read

the door krept open as you got home from school, tossing your grey messy laced converse off of your ankles and sludging your backpack off one of your shoulders and onto the floor.

it was 4:09 pm, you had nothing to do besides an english paper. but that could be done later.

you walk across the kitchen to sit on top of the counter, your nike women's dry-fit socks dangling as you thought about something, anything to do.

reggie and alex were out making flyers for their upcoming band gig on friday, while your best friend luke was probably somewhere in your guest house messing with your dads old music equipment and speakers you had gotten out of some dusty boxes for him a few weeks ago.

what was there to do?

you make a raspberry with your lips.

laundry...done. homework..ish, done. rooms clean...dad didn't get home until 10...

you stare at your mom's piano in the crevice of a large indent in a wall as you hear the air conditioner buzz softly.

the house was dead silent. no one was home.

for some reason, your hands begin to shake and your throat closes up staring at the white keys and grand black figure just sitting feet away, almost feeling like an old friend waiting for you to come back to it again.

after years.

this was the longest you had ever beared to look at it before.

the blank truth was you had completely disregarded the thought of ever playing any musical instrument ever again after your mom had died of cancer four years ago.

especially the piano. especially singing.

it was all the things you and your mom had cherished with each other. everytime you tried to even look at it. all that could replay in the back of your mind was your five-year-old self playing and singing along to "i love you baby", with your mother and you giggling with her.

what was so wrong about it? that you couldn't have that same feeling anymore? you didn't know.

it just hurt. all of it did.

over the years you had become slightly jealous of luke, reggie, and alex for being able to enjoy music like it was a second nature. maybe thats because it used to be yours, too, and your love for music had been taken away. and you felt like you could never get it back.

luke never knew about your passion for music. neither did alex, or reggie. sure, luke had watched you play with your mom as a kid but he never knew that you had the same thriving passion of music that made you feel alive like he did also.

everytime he tried to get you to sing along to one of the songs he had wrote with reggie you just shrugged it off, letting them sing.

because when your mom died, music died too.

in fact, luke had never heard you sing before. not even in the car, the shower, nothing.

but would this be what your mother had wanted? never even singing on the radio just because of memories?

if you were honest, you hadn't been the same person when you gave up music. If you were even more honest, you felt a hole without it.

you decided to get off the counter and slowly creep over to just....look.

not play, of course, no.

just...looking.

just...sitting down at your mom's favorite stool..

just..looking at the keys..

just..feeling them..

breathing...

you flinch when you accidentally hit a note with your finger.

your heart immediately starts pumping and you feel your stomach sink.

technically, you did just...play.

so, technically, accidentally, you could just play another...

on purpose, this time, you press a note, taking in the sound of a piano again like it was something completely new.

again, maybe? just once.

you start to play a few chords, trying to dig back in your brain four years.

you remember of a song called "forever", written by you. when you were 14. a month before your mom passed.

after playing the chords a few times, it comes flooding back to you like a sudden tidal wave.

you start playing them in order, now, and start singing your lyrics.

tears fall down your cheeks and onto the keys as you play the whole song through, singing the chorus, the verse..

you lean back slightly, holding your hands to your chest with a sniffle.

you wipe your eyes, but then jump at the sudden touch of a hand on your shoulder.

you whip your head around, quickly backing away from the stool.

"what the hell!" you gasp, but then realize who it was.

it was luke standing in front of you, now. his expression completely shocked.

it was silent, the only sounds was you trying to catch your breath.

his mouth was practically on the floor.

"y/n l/n."

you swallow, "yeah."

"what the fu-"

you cut him off, and play dumb, "what? i was just-"

you turn your head slightly to look at the piano behind you and then back to him.

"i was just like, messing around, i dunno, it was like- something i came up with..like..uhm..."

"i-i have so many questions." he scoffs, "first, okay? why in the honey bunches of fuck did you never tell me you could...you could..sing like that?"

you take a breath to answer, but he keeps going.

"two." he puts his hands to the back of his head, "since when could you play the piano? what song was that? was it yours? your moms? is this why you've never sang before? why-"

"luke, it-its complicated. i-" you take a breath out and shake your head, "i wrote it when i was 14. secretly. kind of before my mom died."

"why didn't you tell me you could write music?" he almost sounds offended.

"i dont know-- at the time you hadn't even started your band with reggie and alex yet, and that was like..your thing, and i just couldn't handle doing music again!" tears filled the bottom of your eyes as you tried to explain.

he steps towards you, wrapping his strong arms around you, caressing the back of your head as he holds it so his chest, stroking it with his thumb gently.

"shhh, sh. you don't have to explain anymore." his voice is gentle and warm. "i get it. but, music isn't something i own, okay? i wish you would have told me earlier, and i dont know how i didnt notice this before."

a sob accidentally escapes into his chest, and luke feels his heart slowly sink into the floor. he was a tough guy, but he would always let his guard down for you.

he rubs your back in comforting circles, "its okay, yeah? this is a good thing. its a great thing."

he tucks your hair behind your ear, looking down at you as you look up at him with swollen eyes and a slightly runny nose, luke speaking to you in a low and comforting voice. "you are so beyond talented. You know what im thinking?"

you shake your head softly, with a small sniffle.

"you need to be our singer for the band." he looks at you and titls his head like he already knows what you're going to say. "n' before you say no, think about it. you could do it in honor of your mom? y/n, look at you. you have crazy chemistry with a song you haven't even tried playing in years. you could play your keyboard? its waiting for you in the guest house. It would be practically wasting this amazing gift you have. and i cant let you do that. you know it, too."

"luke-" you almost whimper from the thought of playing music...all of the time. not just when you had sudden courage, like..all the time.

"please." he begs, "you dont have to decide or anything right now...just..think about it?" he looks down at you with those same eyes. "for me?" he bites his lower lip with a small smile.

"fine." you barely say. he almost jumps from excitement and hisses in victory before putting his hands on your shoulders and looks at you in the eyes. "you wont regret it."

"luke, what if-" you stop. "what if i fail? like, im not as good as i used to be? i havent even tried writing songs again-"

"from what i heard today? the like, one minute of you just...singing, and playing, was-- like, crazy good and thats more than what regs and alex and i could ever even dream of." he smiles, his dimples peaking out like a deer in headlights, "it would be totally awesome if you could join our band. Like an honor."

as you look at him speak you bite your lips nervously, and let out a shaky "okay."

he towers over you, taking a step closer and looking in both of your eyes, you could feel his warm breath dripping down your neck.

there was a silence as you look into both of his eyes back, smiling back slightly

"there's that smile."

he leans in slightly, you breathing out, and then looking down as your tone becomes quieter.

"we shouldn't do this." you whisper.

he makes you look at him by putting his finger under your chin.

"we definitely shouldn't do this." he breathes, trying not to smile.

"definitely." you say, him matching your expression.

"definitely." his breath catches in the air.

your lips meet his as he gently backs you into a wall, picking your legs up and holding them with his palms up like a feather.

you feel his warm lips lock against yours over and over.

"y/n," he takes a breath out, finally pulling away making a small click sound from your lips seperating.

"yeah?" you gasp for air.

"i love you." he chokes on his words, "i know its soon. i know. you dont have to say it back." he swallows. "i just thought you should know. n' like - its totally cool if-"

"i love you too, luke."

his eyes meet yours again, this time his eyebrows slightly furrowed, "for real?" a smile quickly creeps up on his face.

you gently nod your head as he kisses your lips again once more.

"i-i dont know its like- when i saw you playing, and- it was just-" he pauses, laughing and shaking his head.

"you're so talented. so real. like, down to it, real."

he looks at you with his soft eyes, kissing your forehead.

"your hole's filled now, y/n."

your eyes widen in surpise, "how did you--"

he rolls his eyes and tuts, "cm'on, seriously? i know you better than you know you."

a little smile appears on your face. it really was him all along. he knew after you played again you got the spark in your eyes back that you had when you met him and you were now the same girl he fell in love with all over again since he was ten.

he runs his thumb over your jaw. "that spark, right here?" he puts his hand off your chin and presses a fist gently to your rib. "right there."

"you're back."

you giggle softly, "im back."

divider creds to @benkeibear my nav ★

[moonchild9350]

You Have Me

Summary: You've been best friends/roommates with Jeongin for awhile. You thought you knew everything about your friend. However, one night you find out a little secret about Jeongin that is just too good to ignore.

Pairing: friends to lovers, nonidol sub Jeongin x soft dom fab reader

Genre: Smut: 18+ MDNI please

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: lots of teasing, dry humping, handjob, pussy job, oral sex (f and m receiving), p in v penetration, creampie (wrap it up folks), use of term noona, phone sex in a way, somnophilia, voyerisum, masturbation, edging, dirty talk I think that's it lol

Notes: I love dom Innie but I also just love the concept of sub, whiny Innie. The concept just does things to me lol. I hope y'all like it!

Likes, comments, reblogs are greatly appreciated :)

Masterlist

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost this work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

“Argh! Dammit nooo!” You scream, banging the controller on the floor.

Jeongin, who was sitting above you on the couch chuckled at your distress. You were playing a round of zombie royale with your best friend and roommate Jeongin and well it wasn’t going so well. You had just died, resurrecting as a member of the undead. Jeongin was still alive, fighting as best as he could for the team, as your numbers were slowly decreasing.

“It’s ok noona,” he said while trying to fight off a hoarde. “Look for an elixir so you can join us again.”

You nodded, beginning your search. This was a typical Friday night for both of you, neither of you having to go into work the next day. You loved these nights, spent playing video games late into the night, snack wrappers scattered around you, as you played whatever game you decided on earlier in the day. It was late, you both playing one more round before you decided to call it a night.

Jeongin was doing well, he was completely focused on the screen. He was trying to win it for the team, and by the looks of it, he’ll probably succeed. It was silent as you both focused, the sound of the buttons on the controller being rapidly pressed echoing throughout the room. You had just found an elixir, when Jeongin yelled in victory. He was the last human standing as the other team’s player succumb to the dead.

“Fuck yeah!” Jeongin yelled, getting up to do a little victory dance. You laughed as he danced around the room. You decided to get up and dance with him because why not, you were on his team anyway. After spinning around the room and brining out your insane dance moves, you both collapsed on the couch, laughing your heads off as you tried to catch your breath.

Jeongin turned to face you, “good job noona, even though you became a zombie.” You playfully hit his shoulder, with a grin on your face.

“Hey! I could have made it just so you know. That zombie came out of nowhere!”

Jeongin laughed, “I know, I know.” He took a deep breath and said, “let’s clean up? I’m kinda tired.”

You shook your head yes as you got up and started picking up food wrappers. Jeongin gathered the controllers, putting them on the docking stations. After cleaning, Jeongin said goodnight, giving you a hug. You sat back down on the couch, not quite ready for bed. You were so happy to be living with your best friend, most days filled with happiness. You’d known Jeongin since middle school, as you were neighbors. You became fast friends after you saved him from some not so nice kids that lived in your neighborhood. They thought he was a nerd and therefore a loser.

You thought the opposite, so you stuck up for the new kid on the block. Jeongin appreciated your kindness and the rest is history. Now you live together and you even work together. You couldn’t imagine life without him. He’s still a nerd, which you loved, but over the years he’s become handsome. You noticed it and other women noticed it too, especially those at your work. Not a day goes by they’re not flirting with him.

It’s been awhile since Jeongin has brought a girl over, which shocked you. You’d discuss what be thought about the new girl at work or if he’s found anyone on a dating app. He’d deflect his answer however, saying he’s not interested in dating at the moment. You’d never push him, not wanting to make your best friend uncomfortable, but you did find his reaction odd. Whatever his decision though, you’d respect it, as it wasn’t your place to meddle in.

You had put on a tv show, turning the volume down so as not to disturb Jeongin. Everything was calm and peaceful until you heard a moan. You froze on the couch, listening for the sound again. Seconds went by without a sound so you dismissed the disturbance, thinking it was the tv. However , minutes later, you heard another moan. You picked up the remote and muted it, listening for the sound and…there it was again. It was definitely coming from Jeongin’s room.

You got up and made your way to his door, placing your hand on the door handle. You twisted the knob, not knocking as you guys didn’t really care if you came into each others rooms, and opened the door. What you saw caused you to gasp.

Jeongin was laying on his bed, his head thrown back. He wasn’t wearing any pants or boxers and was stroking his hard cock. You were frozen in your spot, watching as he glided his hand over the shaft, before circling his wrist over the head. His breathing was shallow, as he let out little moans.

You really should move, leave him be and go to your room. You were about to do so until you heard a voice, a woman’s voice come from his…his phone?

“How does it feel baby? Does my hand feel good?”

“Ye..yes Noona, it feels so good,” Jeongin whined, stroking his cock a little faster. He whimpered, jerking his hips up into his hand.

Was your best friend talking to a sex line? You were shocked. At that moment, something switched in you. You closed the door and walked towards your best friend. He has yet to notice you in which you were amazed. You climbed onto his bed, straddling his legs causing his eyes to fly open, shock all over his face.

He tried to cover his cock with his hands, hiding it from your view, but you slapped his hands away, rising your eyebrows daring him to try to cover himself again. You watched as he swallowed, uncertainty on his face. But he was horny, he was hard, and the woman on the other side of the call was still talking, edging him on.

“Stroke your cock harder for me baby. Can you do that? Be a good boy and listen ok?”

Jeongin hesitantly reached down to touch his cock once more, unsure if he should comply, but you slapped his hand out the way, grabbing onto his member instead, as Jeongin let out a gasp. You looked down, getting a good look at his cock. It was pretty, a nice length and slightly thick, enough to stretch you and fill you up nicely you thought . You ran your finger over his pretty pink tip, pre-cum leaking from the tip, pushing your finger down slightly.

Jeongin let out a little whimper, the pout you love forming on his face. You looked him in the eyes as you started to stroke his cock, working your hand up and down the shaft. Jeongin let out a loud moan, his hips bucking up into your hand. You grinned at the sound, before leaning down to spit on the head. You watched as it dropped down his pretty length, mixing with his precum as you worked his cock.

You watched him squirm at the mercy of your hand, watching his face scrunch in pleasure. The sight in front of you was beautiful, a sight you could definitely get used to. You could feel your arousal drip into your panties, soaking the material at the thought that he was feeling this way because of you.

“Does baby boy feel good hmm? Imagine my pretty lips around your cock baby, yeah? That’s it baby.” The woman on the phone said.

With a glint in your eyes, you leaned down before wrapping your lips around his cock, sucking the head into your mouth. Jeongin let out an animalistic howl, you’re sure that even the neighbors heard. You bobbed your head, before taking him to the hilt, the hair framing the base of his cock tickling your face. You peeked up to look at your best friend, letting out a moan at the sight of him gone, his mouth wide open, chest heaving, as you sucked the soul out of his cock. You massaged his balls before leaning down to take one into your mouth.

Jeongin began to thrust his hips upwards, gently fucking your mouth. The woman was still speaking, but neither one of you were paying attention to her voice. You licked a stripe from the base to the tip before wrapping your lips around the head once more, suckling the tip. Jeongin’s moans got louder and more raspy. He was close, you could tell, as he fell apart in your mouth. But you weren’t going to let him have it that easily.

You lifted your head, your lips leaving his cock with a pop. Jeongin looked at you with wide eyes, letting out a whine at his fading orgasm. You crawled up his body to hover over him. While looking him in the eyes, you reached over and disconnected the call, a smirk on your face.

“Mmm learned something new about my best friend tonight,” you purred, your finger brushing down his chest, as you pinched his nipple. “You like to be told what to do huh? You get off on being bossed around.”

All Jeongin could do was whimper, the answer clear in his eyes. Straddling his legs, you gave an experimental grind of your hips, the feeling of his cock dragging against your clothed core causing you to let out a sigh.

“You didn’t have to call some random hotline Innie baby.” You said as you rolled your hips again.

You had him where you wanted him, his eyes dragging from your face to where your hips met his cock and back to your face again. You watched as he swallowed loudly, his Adams apple bobbing with the motion.

“Noona, please,” Jeongin whispered out.

He was losing his mind. His best friend was on top of him, who just gave him the best head of his life, and is talking to him like he’s nothing. He’s cock twitched at the thought.

You grinned down at him before saying, “you know why you don’t have to call some random woman Innie? Hmm?”

Jeongin shook his head no, his words stuck in his throat.

“Because you have me baby,” you purred as you took off your top. Your breast were on display, your nipples hardening as the cold hit them.

“Now let’s play some more Innie. Here’s the rules, no touching unless I say so. You’re going to do what I say. Got it?” You said, brushing the back of your hand across his cheek.

Jeongin nodded fervently, watching as you got up to take off your sleep shorts, dragging your panties with them. He couldn’t take his eyes off your body, the vision of every wet dream he’s ever had. He wanted to touch you, but he remembered your rules, not wanting to disobey. He likes when women tell him what to do in bed, not that he’s had much experience, most women not comfortable doing so. But here you are, his best friend, in the flesh, ready to make his dreams come true.

You straddled his legs once more, dragged his cock through your lips, the slide was easy between your slick, your spit, and his precum leaking from his cock. You ground your hips faster, the tip of his cock hitting your clit deliciously over and over. Jeongin was a whining mess, his fists opening and closing at his sides. You smirked at his obedience, the act turning you on even more as more slick gushed out your pussy and onto his pelvis and cock.

You looked at his pretty lips, parted in ecstasy. How many days have you thought about his lips, his mouth and what it could do. What better time to find out but now.

Jeongin watched as you lifted your hips and stood up, making your way towards his head. He looked up at you, a pout on his face as he waited for your next move.

“I’m gonna sit on your face baby, make sure you eat it good.” You said as you squatted over his face. Joengin’s eyes were huge as he looked at your pussy, subconsciously licking his lips. He let out little whimpers as you got closer to his face. You grinned at how eager he was.

“You’re gonna do what I ask right? You’re gonna make me feel good right baby?”

“Yes, yes noona! Need your pussy, sit on my face noona.” Jeongin said as he made to grab your hips to bring you even closer.

“Did I say you can touch me?”

Jeongin looked at you like a kid that got caught. “I’m..I’m sorry noona.” He said quietly.

“It’s ok Innie, I’ll let it slide this time.”

You lowered yourself over his face, his breath fanning across your lips causing your pussy to clench in anticipation. Jeongin grabbed your hips harder and pulled you down onto his face, letting out a loud groan as he licked up your slit, before sucking your clit into his mouth. You were at a loss for words, as he suckled the bud and rolled it against his tongue. You watched as he made out with your pussy, pulling your further into his face. You started to grind your hips, riding his tongue, as your arousal pooled into his mouth. His nose tickled your clit, the stimulation causing shivers to run down your back.

Jeongin grunted before shoving his tongue into your entrance, licking your walls over and over. You were shocked at how fast you felt your high approaching, the feeling of a band tightening in your belly. You sped up your hips, riding his tongue faster and faster, the thought of Jeongin not being able to breath as your smothered his face with your pussy not even crossing your mind. Jeongin let out a loud muffled moan, the vibrations causing you to tip over the edge. You rode out your high, your thighs squeezing together against Jeongin’s head, your body contracting against the force of your orgasm. You rocked your hips once more before lifting them, scooting down so you could see Jeongin’s face.

His pupils were dilated and his face was wet with your slick as he licked his lips. He moaned at your taste, making sure to get every drop he could. You leaned down to press your lips against his, tasting yourself on him. The kiss became heated quick, as he pushed his tongue into your mouth, the two appendages fighting for dominance.

“Put it in Innie, go ahead baby,” you murmured against his lips.

Jeongin grasped his cock, stroking it a few times and running it through your lips. He pressed his length against your entrance before you rolled your hips down as you sank down onto his cock. You sat up and rolled your hips again and again, as the feel of his length rubbing your walls felt just right. You reached down for Jeongin’s hands and placed them on your breasts. He immediately squeezed them, brushing his fingers over your nipples.

You let out sighs as he was hitting your spot over and over. He continued to fondle your breasts, pinching your nipples every now and then as you sped up the motion of your hips. You rode his cock hard and fast, as you barreled towards your orgasm again. Jeongin was close, you could feel it as his cock twitched within your walls. His moans became louder which each swivel of your hips, as little whimpers fell from his lips.

He brought his fingers down to your clit and began to rub your bundle of nerves in sloppy circles, his fingers slipping and sliding from your slick. With the added stimulation, you fell over the edge, your pussy clenching over and over on his cock. Jeongin thrusted his hips into yours before letting out a loud growl, ropes of his cum hitting your walls and dripping down onto his pelvis. You collapsed on top of him exhausted, your legs throbbing from holding yourself up.

Jeongin wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. You both laid there in silence, your breaths becoming more steady with each passing moment.

“Thank you noona,” Jeongin whispered, breaking the silence.

You lifted your head up to look at your best friend, blush spreading across his cheeks. You smiled at him saying, “anytime bestie.”

Jeongin’s softened cock slipped out your pussy, both his and your cum sliding down onto his abdomen. He shifted you to the side, getting up to go grab a towel. He wiped you down gently, before wiping the cum off himself. He got back into bed, pulling you to his chest and pulling the blanket over both of you.

“Never thought you were a dom noona,” Jeongin chuckled.

“You’re one to talk,” you said, “never thought you were a sub.”

“Touche” Jeongin said, hugging your close.

He ran his fingers through your hair, his mind running a mile a minute. Did this change your relationship? Did you want to be more than friends? He wasn’t sure how to bring it up to you. Besides you had drifted off to sleep, your breathing steady as he held you. Oh well, he thought. You both could discuss this later.

The next morning, you felt a pleasurable sensation in between your legs. You thought it was dream, as you may have been dreaming about Jeongin and how he felt within you last night. You laid there in bliss, letting the feeling take over. However, you realized it felt too amazing…too real. Your eyes snapped open and looked up. Jeongin was hovering over you, as he let out little pants. His cock was buried within your walls, as he brutally snapped his hips into yours.

“Morning noona,” he breathed out, his pace never faltering. “Couldn’t help it noona, needed to feel you.”

“Shit Innie,” you breathed, as you rested your head against the pillow again. You didn’t know how long he was buried between your thighs, but you could tell Jeongin was close. He snapped his hips into you again and again, as he moaned and whimpered, “so good, so so good.”

You sighed out and brought your fingers to your clit, rubbing the bud. “Close Innie, close.”

Jeongin hummed and with a few more thrusts of his hips, he stilled and buried his head in your neck, his cum flooding your walls once again. The feeling triggered your release, your walls spasming around his cock, milking him dry. He whimpered into your neck, slowly rocking his hips into yours. He laid there on top of you once he came down from his high, pressing soft kisses onto your neck. You threaded your fingers through his hair, closing your eyes feeling content.

“Noona?” Jeongin said, his voice muffled from being buried in your neck.

You hummed out in response, signaling for him to go on.

“What does this make us?” He softly asked.

His question made you freeze. What were you? That was a good question. You have been best friends for a long time. Would this change things between you? You hoped not, you didn’t want to lose him. But what’s life without a little risk?

So with a steady voice you said, “I guess this makes you my boyfriend.”

You felt Jeongin let out the breath he was holding as he continued to nuzzle into your neck. He pressed a kiss there before lifting his head up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. He broke away and smiled at you, his dimples that you love so much popping out. He took a breath and said,

“I like the sound of that noona. Good thing you found out about my secret huh?"

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @thesilvernight0wl @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus

[leclercstars]

ROCKSTAR. [pt.4]

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando invites you to his hotel room after your text exchange. Warnings: 18+ SMUTTYY!! Cursing, unprotected sex, dom!Lando, daddy kink etc.

hope y’all loved this series 🙈

“Ughhhh,” you groaned as the light shone through the curtains in your hotel room. Somehow even after your late-night shower, your mascara did not come off. You looked like the poster child of “partied too hard last night,” with your hair looking more like a lion’s mane and clothes half on. In your hungover daze, you rolled over and saw the slew of text message notifications on your phone. Two stood out, “Attachment: 1 image” and “thanks!” from a number that appeared to be Lando’s. You typed in your passcode and clicked on the texts.

“Holy fuck!” you exclaimed, hurling your phone across the bed. You stared with wide eyes at the phone- hands covering your mouth in shock. You tentatively reached for the phone again as if it was a cobra that was about to bite you or something. Yep, confirmed. Those are Lando’s abs splattered with cum. You were laughing, mostly because this whole situation still felt so unreal to you.

“Well good morning to you too!” you responded. It didn’t take long for those three dots to pop-up on your screen.

“Just come over tonight.” 

Well that’s fucking bold, you thought. But like- there was not a chance you would decline his invite. This is like having one-night stands with the annoying frat guys at school but 10x more justifiable. You were going to play it cool though, even though your skin was tingling with excitement.

“Time?” you replied. 

“10 works.”

Early as hell for a booty call, when is his bedtime? You laughed to yourself.

At 9:00 p.m., he texted you the address of the hotel he was staying at, and you slipped into the only Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you owned. Thank goodness you had impulse bought that for the man you were sleeping with last month who didn’t care if you were alive or dead.

There you were. Outside Lando Norris’ hotel room door.

“What the fuck am I doing,” you muttered to yourself before knocking.

He answered quickly, “Come in,” his voice already sounding sultry and thick. You had the feeling that as soon as you walked in, no time would be wasted. 

Boy, were you correct. He backed you up against the wall, and pinned your hands above your head. “Stuff like this okay?” his tone softened for just a moment. 

“More than,” you replied before planting kisses and bites all along his jawline. You didn’t even make it to his lips before his hand joined the dainty gold jewelry around your neck, pushing you back against the wall. His surprisingly soft lips slammed into yours, his tongue quickly finding its way down your throat. He stripped you down with such an ease that you could tell this was far from his first time around the track. He ripped the lingerie you were wearing off your body.

“Oh come on! That was hot but that was so expensive.” you laughed between the kisses.

“I’ll send you money for 4 new sets, don’t worry about it.” 

Oh that’s right- he’s like rich and is probably used to fucking ultra rich girls too. 

He picked you up and tossed you back down onto the bed- much nicer than yours over at the Hilton. Your neck looked like a vampire had gotten to it- covered in bites and bruises. Him signing your tits should have clued you in on his affinity for marking up his territory.

His fingers slipped into your pussy, and you tightened around him with a loud moan.

“Fuck I don’t think anyone has ever been this wet for me. Glad you like how daddy has been treating you.” Lando growled as he pumped in and out of you, making you more and more obedient with each curl of his index finger against your g-spot. 

He didn’t take himself out of you as his mouth made its way to your boobs.

“This is what I have been waiting for,” he said as he started circling your nipples with his tongue. Fuck- he is so good at teasing you. You squirmed desperately as he cupped your other boob in his hand. 

“Fuck Lando, come on just put your mouth on them.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna do that without you asking for it,” his eyes glimmering with specks of lust as he looked up at you with his face smushed between your tits. 

Wow, he looked so cute just right there, but you couldn’t wait much longer. 

“Please daddy, suck on my tits. I want it- you so bad.” you whined, giving him the “fuck me” eyes that you had perfected after plenty of experiences just like this one. Those other guys had not been quite so dominant, but it was actually kind of fun being able to let go of all control. His warm mouth meeting your excruciatingly hard nipples was a pleasure like no other. He closed his eyes as he switched between them, biting and sucking. All that dominance really seemed to leave his body as he moaned into your boobs- almost whimpering. You were thrilled that your tits had that affect on him. It felt like you were taming him as you ran your hand through his curls and he fully relaxed himself into your chest. Did it always feel this good when guys did this? You loudly moaned and that seemed to snap him out of whatever boob-induced trance he was in. Thank goodness it did, because you were about to orgasm from his nipple play alone.

He grabbed you by the neck again, and that alone made you whine as his strong fingers pressed on the back of your head.

“You ready to be a good girl for me?” he was staring down at you, his eyes dark and hazy. You could tell he was thinking about what he was going to do to you, how he was gonna treat you like this.

“Yes, daddy.” Before you could even punctuate your words with a whimper- he had thrusted his entire length inside you. You gasped and sat up as his massive cock hit the back of your tight walls. He wasted no time as he started to pound into you. He pressed his entire naked body onto yours- as you buried your head into the crook between his neck and shoulder that looked like it had been sculpted by Davinci. Your nails dug into his back- and he cried out pleasurably- you knew you had to be leaving marks.

You had never been fucked so hard in your life, and certainly not by someone who looked like this. His perfectly tanned skin glistened as he made your pussy his, every single muscle in his arms on display as he held himself up. 

He took one hand and started flicking and pinching your nipple- and that was enough to bring you right to the edge.

“Lan-Lando,” you were barely even able to speak- he had really created such a mess out of you with his attitude, the big dick might have helped too. 

An orgasm shot through your body as he twisted your nipple- white sparks appearing in the corners of your eyes as you gave yourself to the ecstasy of it all,

“I’m gonna cum in your mouth,” Lando groaned as he pulled out of you.

You stuck your tongue out as he slapped his cock on it. You gripped the base and he shoved himself into the back of your throat- making you gag. That was what did it for him- as his hot cum filled up your mouth. His orgasm face was unlike anything you had ever seen before. Contorted so perfectly with pleasure, it was an image you never wanted to forget.

He flopped down onto the bed- no longer the dom-daddy that was fucking you five minutes ago. He grinned up at you, still naked. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of his ass, still a little woozy from his cock.

“STOP LOOKING AT IT!” he yelled with mock rage. You spiraled into peals of laughter as he grabbed the sheets to cover himself up. He was laughing too, looking like such a fool with his makeshift toga. He sat back up on the pillows and gestured for you to join him. He pulled the covers up and you rested your head gently on his chest. 

“So should we like watch a movie or something? I think this TV has HBO on it.” He was smiling down at you.

You could stay in this spot for a while.

part 1 part 2 part 3

taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak @thewritingofspencerrose @formulaa-1 @supremebaddietrash @moonayu @aexitizen-ln4 @notturlover @maxv33rstappen @coco-bitch

[damagdsnow]

Fix my reputation

Pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x fem!reader

Summary: You and Coryo are together for mutual benefits, he needs a well known woman by his side to look vulnerable and loving during the presidential elections and you need your reputation to be fixed after your unforgivable scandal.

Tag: fake dating, slow burn, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, manipulative/soft Snow, strong and independent reader (as she should), fluff, angst, power play, smut, fingering, thigh riding, switching sub/dom, degradation, denied orgasm, piv, dirty talk, overstimulation, oral (fem/male receiving), praise

Chapter 1, chapter 2;

aesthetic chapter one, aesthetic chapter two;

Tw: Snow being Snow, mention of alcohol, panic/anxiety attack, mention of blood, mention of parent death, physical aggression (not detailed and not from Snow)

Word count: 11.3k

note: before reading this I recommend you to read the first chapter here. Also, thank you so much for all the love and support on chapter one I didn’t expect all of this, I love you guys ❤️

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

The first time you had met Coriolanus was when Dr. Gaul had announced he was going to be her apprentice Gamemaker during the next Hunger Games.

At that time, you got a job as a health advisor, essentially you monitored tributes' vital signs and whether they were injured, you formulated unique medicine so mentors and sponsors could help their favorites heal faster and be a step ahead of the others. You were used to stitch wounds, examining patients, making prescriptions. This was a whole new thing to you. Dr. Gaul said to you that you were one of the most qualified doctors in that department, this is the reason why she pressured you to ‘amaze’ her.

”When I read your qualifications I was shocked to learn you were looking for employment,” was the first thing Dr. Gaul said to you when she requested to meet you.

You were in her laboratory, a bright room filled with gruesome creatures, dead and alive. She was standing in front of you, with her voluminous curly hair and her reddish long tunic, while she was feeding some sorta of genetically modified fish.

“I was looking for some thrilling experience,” you started fidgeting your fingers, “making me useful for the good of Panem.”

You practiced saying these words many times before meeting her, what were you supposed to say? That you desperately needed a job? That as soon as you found another position you would quit immediately?

”Your idea to formulate a drug that would help tributes in the arena?” With a long tweezer she dropped a pink cube in the small pool, ”so original,” she smiled while feeding the fishes with more cubes.

“You know what it means right? The games will last longer, people spending money on their helpless and injured tributes, mentors fighting to get the best sponsor,” she continued, her icy eyes were staring at you, “this is going to revolutionise the games.”

“I’m glad you liked my proposal,” you looked down, wondering if it was better to make eye contact with her or watch those horrific creatures with long fangs and thorny tails.

“Liked? I absolutely adore your way of thinking,” she put the tweezer back on a metal tray. “No one was able to surprise me since–” she paused and you looked back at her, ”do you know Coriolanus Snow? You two would get along well.”

At that time you wondered who he could be. Coriolanus Snow? His name sounded familiar to you. Only when Dr. Gaul introduced him to the department as an apprentice, you recognised his face.

You both graduated from the Academy, he was just a year older than you, and during the tenth annual Hunger Games his name was popular amongst students. Even though you went to the same school, you had never talked to him. Until a couple of months before the reaping, Dr. Gaul let you and other members work in her lab to do research. Of course he was there too, and chance had it that you were paired up with Coriolanus, sharing the same desk in the library section.

You could see him sitting opposite to you, his side was impressively tidy, just a black leather notepad and a book. Your half was full of microbiology volumes, agar plates and creased post-it. Coriolanus was too focused on his writing that he never gazed over you, on the other hand you were distracted by his presence. You remembered him differently in the Academy, his hair was slightly longer than before, his facial features were more defined, but the same cold aura surrounded him.

You felt kinda intimidated by him.

You’ve heard colleagues saying how brilliant he was: he won the Plinth prize in his senior year, he graduated with honors at advanced military strategies and he now had a high position as the right hand man of the pretentious Head Gamemaker.

He intrigued you.

You thought you were not the smartest person in the room. There was something in him, probably his confident behaviour while he was writing on his notebook, as if he was superior to you. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him, you thought of ways to start a conversation, not a small talk, but something smart to impress him.

Your heart was beating fast and you finally figured what to say, “Mr. Snow I found a better technique for–“

“What makes you think you can talk to me?” He cut you off while still writing in his notebook.

His words stunned you. The conversation you imagined in your head was now gone, what could you say at this point? “I just wanted–” you stuttered

“Don’t bother, I don’t want to know.”

Your admiration for him slowly faded each day. The way he corrected you every time you had a proposal, pointing out your mistakes in front of everyone, or when he made you work till night in the laboratory to perfectionate your research. You tolerated that, you were used to hard work and mean teachers in your university years, but sometimes he didn’t even show the slightest remorse on things he would say about the districts. About you, indirectly.

Every year on reaping day you thought that it could have been you. Your name in that little piece of paper, read out loud changing your destiny. If it wasn’t for your father’s role in the Dark Days, you could have been in that arena yourself, instead of having the privilege to control tributes’ lives in a cozy chair.

Your dad was an engineer, more a genius mastermind who designed and built high tech weapons. Specifically incendiary bombs, which were crucial to stop the rebels from invading the Capitol during the last year of the war. The project was so successful that he obtained an honorary medal from President Ravenstill himself. He was able to buy a place in the Capitol, for the only purpose to give you and your sister a better future, and you actually lived in luxury compared to your old life back in the districts. However, your father did not side with the president’s political view, still he had to conform to it or he would probably be considered a rebel.

He played the game, to stay alive. Until he was not part of that show anymore.

“I only did it for you and Darla, I don’t care about heavens or hell. As long as my family is safe, I regret nothing of the atrocities I’ve done,” were the words your father wrote to you in a letter, before being killed.

They had never been clear about the dynamics of his homicide, but you were sure it was not an incident as someone would say. The Capitol killed him, they took your dad away from you, the only person you admired, that never let you down.

Your blood was from the districts, even if you’ve lived all your life in the Capitol, you couldn’t change your origins. Coriolanus reminded you of that, with his despicable comments about how ‘horrible and disgusting’ the people from the districts were. As if you didn’t exist to him, you were not a person from his perspective. But he did not know that, no one knew you were not from the Capitol, it was only written on your official documents.

“The games are meant to remind us all who we truly are,” was something Coriolanus often said, bullshit you thought, for you the Games were an insult to humanity and civilisation, cruel entertainment for empty people.

Coriolanus Snow, such a brilliant mind but wicked thoughts.

At the same time, you were not better than him. You worked for the Head Gamemaker and indirectly supported the unnatural destiny of those children. It was easier blaming the government, the bad guys, than admitting to be part of the corrupted system you truly despised. Your excuse was that you had no choice, and partially it was true, but can money win over your beliefs? Were you so desperate to bend your morality just not to be jobless and not respectable? You were acting as your father: were you a fighter or survivor?

Little did you know that your worst nightmares were going to haunt you soon. After the incident you were unemployed, with a bad reputation and with a man you hated.

Check, check, check.

You woke up at lunch time for the third day in a row, it was like being a child again. But there wasn’t your mom taking care of you, your dad making your favorite dish or your big sister spoiling you with presents. You couldn’t ignore your responsibilities and let the adults do the big things for you. You were the adult now, but if you kept self destroying your life this way, it was like everything you’ve done vanished away. Giving up was not an option, or to put things clear, it was the easier possibility amongst the other challenging beginnings.

One of these included him.

Coriolanus was not a beginning, he was more like someone you bump into when you are in a rush, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there but that let you miss the train, made you change your destination. However, the end of the journey was a mystery, with him nothing was clear from the start.

The gala was proof that you couldn’t handle that world, it felt like everything you did made your situation in a much worse position. If it wasn’t for Coriolanus, you would’ve busted into tears on live tv, he was used to that world, lying so naturally that he convinced them.

Cameras, flashes, interviews. Not exactly what you have been preparing for all your life.

You didn’t want to remember what happened that night. Your mind replayed memories as if it was a film, but you were trying to stop it. The dancing? The photographers?

No, the kiss.

The thought of his hands on your skin, his hair on your hands, his lips against yours. The more you pushed that image away, the less it faded from your mind. How could you let him do something like that? You knew that letting him in again would only bring more chaos into your life, but at the same time, you needed to fix your mess and he was your solution.

Also, you didn’t want to acknowledge that all the attention was something you needed. Not the bad press, the misleading articles and intrusive photographers. It was the care for you, the way he defended you, the warmth you didn’t feel in a long time. You knew it was fake, just a facade, but that pretending was healing an empty spot you have been hiding for ages.

When you checked your mail, you recognised the reddish envelope. It was from Snow manor.

"Be ready at 7 pm, someone is going to pick you up.’ signed by Iris Davebonn.

Of course it was not over.

He had a plan, and he didn’t give up easily. You also had a plan, he was not the only one with something to prove, but was he the only way out to your hell? Or was he another villain in your tragedy? You had nothing to lose but everything to gain.

Coriolanus is the forbidden apple, the fruit I shall never be tempted to desire.

You opened the fridge, still sleepy but hungry. For your breakfast you had a couple of options: water and rotten eggs or rotten eggs and water. So as always you decided to steal from your neighbor’s tangerines tree, you could easily pick the fruits from your window, the advantages of living on the first floor. You knew that the old lady next door noticed your thefts, but she hated you either way so at least you gave her a reason to. Since you didn’t have a monthly paycheck anymore, you had to live with your remaining savings, but soon you were left with nothing with bills and rent to pay.

Actually, Dr. Gaul never fired you, she wasn’t as upset as Capitol people, she even congratulated you because this way The Hunger Games were discussed more on tv and newspapers. For her, the incident was a perfect strategy to make the Games popular. She even thought you did that intentionally, because in her distorted view,”it was funny seeing their faces when for the first time, a 12 years old boy from district eleven won”. Against all odds, the unknown tribute without sponsors and hope to make it alive, won the games because “I killed everybody else.”

Not as funny as she thought.

Eventually, you couldn't handle the pressure anymore and you quit. The last time you saw her she persuaded you to be by her side the next year, “if you did that by accident, I wonder what you could do purposely.” You never considered that offer, you didn’t have to work there in the first place. If only you could go back, maybe… Maybe, everything would’ve gone differently.

The world fell apart when you heard the sound of cannon in that room. Everybody was cheering for that girl from district two, the favorite, the one that won Capitol’s heart during the interviews. The lovely Rea, the brave tribute that was bit by an horrific dog. That creature cannot be defined as a ‘dog’, more like a venomous lion with a crocodile mouth. Your role was to make a medicine that could heal her wound. Sponsors asked it, her mentor was willing to pay whatever price to save her, the Capitol was betting every penny on her.

The pressure was such that you mistakenly switched two drugs and gave her the other for the boy from District three. Fatal mistake.

You were their only hope but you became the death of them.

Relying on somebody else was the last thing you wanted, especially if it was Coriolanus Snow. You didn’t want to need him. But there you go, on your way to his house. Again.

An avox opened the door for you and silently you followed her to the living room. Iris and Coriolanus were both standing near a star shaped glass table surrounded by small couches, you wondered what their conversation was about because they stopped talking the moment you walked in.

“Speaking of the devil,” Coriolanus said looking at you, he was wearing a white shirt and black pants, his hair was messy as if he woke up a couple of minutes ago.

”There she is,” Iris stepped towards you, opening her arms, “the new star of Panem,” she hugged you like you were an old friend she hadn’t seen in a while, it didn’t feel as awkward as you thought, it felt sincere.

”I think you meant a fallen star,” you laughed hugging her back.

”Honey, the gala was a success!” She said with a warm smile.

You perceived his blue eyes gazing at you, the same look he gave you when you were walking with him arm by arm at the gala.

Why is he staring? Am I wearing something inappropriate? Or is it just the indecipherable look he always has?

“Did you read the newspaper?” Iris pointed at the glass table in front of you but you were distracted by a bowl full of pastries to even pay attention to her.

You leaned forward to read the page but your sight was too blurry. The tangerines were the only thing you ate since this morning, not really an energetic meal. You sat on the small couch and you put the newspaper close to your face, nose almost touching the page, squinting to have a better view.

“Are you blind?” Coriolanus said with an annoyed tone, he tore away the paper from your hands.

”I don’t have my glasses with me,” you lied, you have never worn glasses in your entire life.

You rubbed your temples trying to see clearly again and you swiftly took what seemed to be a pink cookie from the tray on the table. What flavour was that? You tried to make a straight face while chewing that sugary stuff, at least your body was eating something.

“To make things short— they think we are the couple of the moment,” Coriolanus started while reading the page, “that everybody was shocked— bla bla,” he rapidly said, “oh and they mentioned my name four times!”

“No, Mr. Snow, if you have to do something you have to do it right,” Iris intervened, taking the newspaper from his hands.

She sat down on the couch near yours and started reciting the article, reading word by word.

“Is love in the air? In Capitol City probably is.” She read the first line,“what a great title isn’t it?” Iris commented

“Go on or we are going to stay here all night,” Coriolanus said.

You looked at him, he was standing up making you feel inferior, like a shadow looming over you.

“After the unsettling events happened in the last Hunger Games, there is finally some hope in our community. The aspiring president Coriolanus Snow showed up with someone not-so-new in the latest gala before the presidential campaign.”

“ ‘not so new’ so kind of them—” you said and he shushed you. How dare he?

“She studied medicine and has worked with the Head Gamemaker for the past year. Rumor has it that for some kind of incident, she was the cause of the premature death of two tributes.”

Iris took a breath. “Unexpectedly, last night Coriolanus proudly walked with her for the very first time in public. Both dressed in white, representing the noble Snow name, they conquered the attention of the media and the crowd. Are they the couple of the moment?” She smiled while looking at you, “the best part is about to come.”

“If we are basing the answers on the way they look at each other, they definitely stole our hearts. We are looking forward to seeing how this unexpected love will grow.”

You laughed, that was too corny for you, was it possible that they truly believed that little show you made?

”Will Coriolanus Snow win the election the same way he won her heart? Right now we are in love with both of them.” Iris finished.

“Did they really write an article about our possible love story?” You took another cookie, green this time, “they really are bored people.”

”You should be happy they didn’t talk about what happened in the arena,” Coriolanus said but you couldn’t see him, he was standing behind you.

“Well, they mentioned it anyway,” you said while chewing that lemon pastry, or was it mint? For a moment you thought it was better starving than eating whatever thing it was.

”Thanks to me they probably will give you a chance,” he said.

”The tone they used– it was like they think you are doing charity by being with me.”

“Well it kinda is–”

”Oh shut up,” you stand up, turning to him, “your name has never been this many times in a newspaper.” You were close to him, and even if you were not sitting anymore, you felt small standing there facing him.

His eyes were still examining you, as if you were a book written in a language he couldn’t read.

“You two look like siblings fighting over meaningless things,” Iris said, stepping in, getting in the middle of you.

“See? Even Iris thinks you are being overly dramatic.”

You fought the urge to answer back, did he just call you over-dramatic?

“Honey, look who's talking,” Iris said pointing a finger at him, “you are not really easy to work with,” then she turned over to you, “in just one day people fell for your fairytale, imagine what you can do in a month.”

“Do you really think this can work?” You avoided looking at him behind her shoulder.

“They don’t care about what you did, you are just another distraction from their empty life,” she explained to you, “they need something else to talk about.”

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, there are more important things,” Coriolanus said, “such as the presidential elections.”

”Is there something else you can say instead of politics and fame?”

”What do you want me to tell you? My sad story about when I mixed some drugs in the laboratory?” He stepped closer, ”oh no, that is something you always talk about.”

”I liked you better when you ignored me,” you said remembering the first time you tried to have a conversation with him.

“Stop please,” Iris said, “you two should bond more, this atmosphere is making me wanna retire early,” she touched her hair, orange this time, “maybe you will like each other.” She walked away from your sight.

“It's going to be tiring enough pretending to like him in public,” now there was just the glass table separating you from him.

“So this is a yes, you are going to do this,” his face lightened up.

“It seems this charade it’s working,” you said convincing yourself that was your best chance of getting your reputation back.

Did you just sign a pact with the devil?

He is the forbidden apple. But it doesn’t mean I can’t just play with it.

“Before I forget,” you heard Iris voice coming from the door entrance, “next week dinner with the Holdens and Suncots,” she was putting her yellow coat on, “they gladly accepted the invite here,” then she put her gloves on, “see you tomorrow—oh and try to bond you two,” she pointed a finger at him before closing the door and leaving you alone with Coriolanus.

You looked at the clock above the coat hanger and it was getting late, but you had nowhere else to be at that moment. No one waiting for you at home, no one expecting your call, nothing to do the next day.

“Tigris is going to design another dress for you,” he said referring to the dinner.

“Can’t I just wear something I already have?” The thought of him deciding what color and style your dress had was not something you tolerated.

“Of course not— do you dine here or?” That didn’t sound like an invite, more as if he was suggesting you go home.

“So kind, I’ll pass,” you said with a sarcastic tone.

”I asked because you almost devoured the entire jar of pastries.” He smiled, waiting for your reaction.

”For the record, they are tasteless.”

He rolled his eyes, “the car is waiting for you outside,” he turned his back and walked towards the kitchen.

”I can walk, I don’t need your personal driver,”

Your words stopped him right in his tracks, ”what if you get lost? How could I do without you?” He said jokingly, turning over to see you, “and it’s fifteen minutes away, in the dark— don’t be a child and go by car, you’ll get used to it.”

You didn’t answer, not like you had something to say. Of course you would’ve accepted the ride, your apartment was too far from his house, you just wanted to irritate him. Maybe you were not so different from Coriolanus, you were playing the same game.

Car rides make you recall only good memories. Your dad got a car when you were little, it was gray and smaller than this one, and he used to drive you to school everyday. Until you got into university and you moved to your current house, it was ten minutes from university so you got used to walking.

The engine stopped and you stepped out of the car, it was cold outside and you wished you had heating at home, a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore.

You fumbled with the keys trying to open the door, you were freezing and you rushed because you heard some steps. You didn’t want to have a conversation with your neighbor, she’ll probably just scold you about the stolen tangerines and how loud you shut the door when you go out, the old same story. You finally walked inside  but someone blocked you from closing the door. It was a young man, probably in his thirties, he had a tiny recorder on his hand and you immediately clicked. 

“Hi, I’m from Capitol’s People Magazine, I wanted to ask you some questions about your relationship with Coriolanus Snow,” he said pointing you to the black device.

”I’m sorry— for interviews, talk to my manager,” you said with a kind tone.

Iris suggested that every time journalists asked you questions you did not want to answer, you had to say those words, and now was the case. You slowly closed the door but the man put his feet in between.

”How could the heir of one of the most influential figures be with a corrupted woman like you?” He looked at you with eyes full of anger.

Corrupted woman, this was new to you. What was the correct answer to that? 

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” you smiled while trying to close the door by pushing it against his feet but he was not intending to leave you alone.

He aggressively tried to wedge his foot into the door, forcing it to stay open while he continued to badger you with invasive questions about the gala.

”Are you planning on ruining his image while stealing his money?” He reached your arm and grabbed it. 

“What’s wrong with you?” His grip was getting tighter as you tried shoving him. 

He was strong enough to smash the door open, stepping inside your house. With his hand on your wrist, he roughly pushed your body against the wall, your back facing him as he stood behind you, your heart pounding outside your chest.  

“You are just a crazy bitch,” he whispered, “you think you can fool them but are a disgrace for Panem,” he pushed your head against the wall, one side of your face hitting the coarse plaster making your skin burn. 

“Get off me! ” you shouted, struggling against his grip.

In response he hit your head again against the wall. You squinted your eyes in pain as a tear streamed down your face, you felt powerless, everything happened so fast.

“Tell me what you want from me,” you said with a weak voice.

“After all you did, you should shut the fuck up and do what you are asked to do,” he put his hand on your scalp as he pushed you harder against the wall. 

You screamed like you never did in your entire life, someone had to hear your cry for help, right? But he was quick to cover your mouth with his palm and that was the perfect occasion for you to bite his skin. He kept his hand on your mouth while he choked on his own screams. 

Your muffled howl echoed in the room but no one seemed to hear you. Or so you thought. Someone grabbed the man from his collar and pushed him away from you. It was the driver, his tall figure was now beant down to beat that man. You were paralyzed, now your back was against the wall and your lungs finally breathing, but your body was unable to answer your brain’s orders. 

”Run!” The driver screamed at you while punching the man one more time, “go in the car! Run!” 

You ran towards the car but your legs felt weak and your head too heavy. You opened the car door and you laid down in the back seats. What the hell just happened? 

What if he came back? What if next time there is not someone to save you? Your anxiety grew inside your chest and you kept yourself from crying. 

“Are you okay, Miss?” The driver asked breathlessly as he violently closed the front car door with a rush, “should I take you to the hospital?” He was looking at you, he had an old scar on his cheek that you didn’t notice before.

You shook your head, “I just need water” you mouthed, trying to maintain a regular breathing.

“Thank you for saving me,” you whispered.

You looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting the street lights while he was driving as if nothing happened, as if his bloody knuckles on the steering wheel were not hurting.

After minutes that seemed hours he talked, “It is my duty,” he said, “Mr. Snow wouldn’t have forgiven me.”

Coriolanus was in his study preparing a speech for the next interview, he had to be careful to pick the perfect words, to speak with the right tone, and to make the adequate facial expressions. Nothing was left to case. Every single action had to be meticulously studied and calculated.

It was his specialty. Playing with words and making people fall in love with his charm. He did it naturally, molding people the shape he wanted. Because he had to have everything under his control, his power, his eyes.

For the first time he was struggling. He was stuck on the opening line and he didn’t know how to continue. Sleepless nights and alcohol were the usual in the past week. This was one of the nights. Locked in his study until he wrote something of that speech, depriving himself from sleep.

Coriolanus was walking around the room, fidgeting with a pen on his long fingers. Until his mind-wandering was stopped by a firm knock on the door, annoyed it could be an Avox, he ignored it. But the knocking didn’t stop.

He let out a sigh as he unlocked the doorknob, “how many times do I have to tell–” to his surprise, the driver showed up at his door, “Virma, what are you doing here?”

Coriolanus soon found the answer to his question by looking over the driver’ shoulder. You were hidden behind his back, like a hurt animal scared of its fate. You didn’t want to come here, like a lost child brought back home. But where were you supposed to be? What place instead of his?

Your ruffled hair, your smeared makeup and your empty look. It didn’t take long for him to understand something happened. A sense of anger grew inside of him. This was not written in a script, it was not meant to happen and when things did not go according to plan, Coriolanus lost his composure, he could have been unpredictable.

His face darkened. He grabbed your arm and he dragged you in his study, along with Virma. You felt his hand on your wrist, his touch was something familiar to you, maybe gentle, as if he was actually worried about you. He pushed Virma to the side and closed the door behind him, casting you both in the dim light of his opulent study.

You were now facing him, his expression was different from an hour ago. His hand traveled to your face, his fingers lifting your chin as he leaned to have a better view of you. The left side of your face was scraped, fresh cuts burned on your temple as droplets of blood trailed your skin. Coriolanus traced his fingertips on your bruised skin and you flinched, instantly regretting the movement as a flash of pain shot through your head, but he was not rough like that man. He loosened his grip on your arm, his eyes softening as he took in the sight of your injuries. He was delicate, as if he was touching something fragile. 

You were too focused on his expression to even pay attention to your sore skin. His knitted brows, his parted lips and his concerned look.

“Who did this to you?” His voice barely above a whisper, he glared down at you as he inspected your figure, as if he was looking for other scratches he missed.

You could almost feel the tension radiating from him.

His hand was now on your neck, fingers touching the back of your head, “a journalist, I don’t–” you looked down, “he was asking questions but I–"

“Mr. Snow, I think I know who he is ,” the driver said and for a moment you forgot he was in that room, “he is Lucius Cliffhard' son.”

"Cliffhard' son? The father is running for president why would he–” Coriolanus didn’t finish his sentence and he looked back at you, “thank you for your service Virma,” his hand left your neck leaving a warm spot, “we will talk about it later.”

You heard the door closing and now you were left alone with him. You could barely stand up, your adrenaline was leaving your body and your anxiety was taking its place.

“Tell me exactly what happened,” he walked towards the opposite side of the room, looking for something in the small bathroom of his study.

You were standing in the shiny black floor, your heart was pounding so loud you could not hear your weak voice, “he probably was waiting for me to come home because the moment I opened the door he uhm—“ you stuttered, "started asking questions but I didn't answer, so he pushed me against the wall and his hand was on my mouth—“ you paused, ”he hit my head and—“ you felt a lump on your throat and you hoped he didn’t hear you.

His steps were again echoing the room, his figure walking closer to you. He had a piece of cotton wool in his hands and without a notice he held it against your scratches by cupping your face with his other hand. It was burning your skin, his fingertips were slightly brushing your neck while he dabbed gently the cotton to clean the wounds on your temple.

”Continue talking,” he said nonchalantly as he tilted your head to have a better view of tour left side of the face.

You stopped breathing in that moment, maybe because of the nauseating smell of the disinfectant or maybe it was because he was inches away from you, his focused look on the bleeding cut, “I think he just wanted to scare me,” you managed to say in a steady tone.

The blonde snapped his head at you, his blue eyes now on yours, “he is a psychopath,” his scent reminded you of that night at the gala, “he hit you because you didn't want to be interviewed, he could've killed you."

You reached his hand where he was pressing the cotton wool and for a moment your fingers brushed before he removed his hands from your skin. “you are exaggerating– he just needs help, ” you said.

Coriolanus closed his eyes, he clenched his fists and the knuckles turned white. He walked towards the desk and he poured himself a drink, taking a long burning sip. You watched him in silence as you inspected the reddish cotton on your hands.

“Do you trust him so much you want to come back to your house?” He was behind his desk, arms resting above the chair, “I told you, here you could have been safer from the media,” he raised his voice, “but you are stubborn, you risked your life and– if it wasn’t for Virma who knows what could have happened,” he said nervously while pouring himself a drink.

“So now it’s my fault?” You bawled at him.

“You don’t understand that now whatever happens to you affects me,” he said, “what are they going to say when they see your bruises and god forbid— he writes an article saying who knows what lies of what happened.”

“See? You don’t care about my safety, you only care about what they think,” you stepped closer to him because he wasn’t even looking at you, “you want me as your puppet, so you can have me under your control— your house, your peacekeepers, your scripts— it’s all part of your plan,” you said.

”You are free to go back to your pathetic life if that’s what you want," he took a sip of his drink, still looking down, “I can’t save you from yourself, after all– you were miserable before and now too,” it was like venom coming from his lips.

A tear streamed down your face, “this is what I hate about you,” you scoffed, “you are a selfish and heartless man, I was right from the start.”

You have called him only good names: uncaring, unaffectionate, disrespectful, selfish and heartless. The list was getting longer.

“What did you expect? I thought it was going to be easier with you but you are getting on my nerves,” he stood up walking towards you, “you should be grateful— but no, you like acting so superior to me,” his chest was getting closer to you.

You scoffed, “why? Who are you?” You looked up at him through your lashes, “just a rich spoiled kid who is playing at being the next president of Panem.”

“And you fucking need me,” he said against your cheek, “this is why you didn’t leave, you don’t want to admit that without this ‘heartless man’ standing in front of you who knows where you could be right now,” his eyes were consuming you.

”Look who's talking,” you pointed a finger at him, “the Capitol's favorite toy who needs a ‘miserable girl’ to make him popular.”

Coriolanus placed his free hand on your wrist, squeezing it lightly, “you like this am I right?” He licked his lips, “talking back at me, uh?”

His nose was touching yours, his grip was burning your skin and you could feel his hot breath mixing with yours. The blonde was dangerously close to you, but you missed that feeling. Have you already erased what he has said to you? Was he so powerful to make you fall for his spell?

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

His lips brushed yours, memories flooding back to you. You didn’t know if he was about to bite you or kiss you. It would have hurt you either way.

“Tell an Avox to prepare your room,” he said, “or freeze in the streets, I don’t care— your choice.” Coriolanus let your arm go and he walked away from your sight.

It started to be just for show but the backstage was even worse than the real life. At the same time you could not give up on this play, you had to change your rules, your morals, to keep being with him.

So you were alone in the dark in the hallway, thinking about running away or staying.

Coriolanus could not win this way, you hated to admit you still needed his presence to fix your reputation. The darkness seemed to swallow you as you hesitated, torn between your principles and the pull of his influence. He had too much power right now, but you were willing to wait, by making things your own terms.

As you stood there, unwilling to give in to his manipulations, the lingering memory of his touch warred with the sharpness of his words. You slammed the door shut for him to hear you, he would have to do better to get you away from him. 

Coriolanus could have touched your face as if you were the rarest creature on earth but the same lips once brushed yours, could tell the most hurtful things to you.

But you did that too. You were both craving the same sin. But too proud to admit on your faces.

“Is everything okay now?” You were in Tigris room, a colorful space barely illuminated by the outside light. It was in the basement, not really a cozy place to work.

You were talking about the aggression that happened a couple of days ago, nothing you wanted to recall actually, especially your conversation with Coriolanus, but you didn’t tell her that.

”Yes, the bruises are healing over,” you answered, touching your temple.

Tigris smiled at you while taking your measurements. She didn’t look like her cousin, apart from the blonde hair, she was pure and kind hearted. Why was an angel like her on earth with people like you? Like him?

“Why are we doing this again?” You asked “Didn’t you already have my measurements?”

You were standing on a stool, only wearing your undergarments while Tigris was putting the tape measure around your chest.

”Coryo sent me a note telling me that last time the dress was a little loose,” that was the last thing you could ever expect to hear from her, because it was in fact true, he noticed that.

“He did what?”

“I know, I was surprised too,” she smiled, “anyway, I read the newspaper.”

Oh no, you didn’t want to talk about that too.

“You two look great in the picture,” she handed you a wrinkled page where you could see a black and white photo of you and Coriolanus at the gala, he was looking at you while holding your waist.

You didn’t know about the existence of that picture until now. That night you were too starved to even pay attention to the newspaper, how could you miss that?

“It was so strange seeing him with a woman,” she commented while looking for some fabric.

“What do you mean? Has he ever had a girlfriend?” You knew the answer to that question but you wanted to hear from her.

“More like ‘girls’ than ‘girlfriends’, ” she laughed, “I’ve never met one of them,” Tigris wrapped a red cloth around your waist.

“Well, not that I’m special,” you looked at the mirror in front of you, “it’s just a stupid show.”

“What a shame,” she folded the excess fabric on your side and put a needle, “I liked you,” Tigris whispered.

You wished you could do something for her, she deserved more than a molded little room and a cousin like Coriolanus.

“So we are seeing each other more often, am I right?” she broke the awkward silence.

“Yes, Iris forced me to stay in this house,” Iris was really in apprehension when she saw your bruises, she lectured you on how people are vicious and in your ‘situation’ it was better not risking more.

“How lucky, aren’t I?” You added.

“I know my cousin can be– difficult to understand but,” she walked behind you, “there are some things that brought him to be this way,” her fingers tighten the fabric on your back, “and of course he’s not a saint, he just needs something– someone perhaps, to make him remember who he really is.”

“I can’t fix him,” you glanced at her reflection in the mirror, “I’m broken as much as he is and– we are incompatible.”

“As the sun and the moon?”

“Maybe.”

The comparison did fit well.

One is the star planets gravitate around, the only source of light at the center of the solar system. The moon is a small satellite whose only purpose is to spin around the earth, showing only one face and depending only on the planet's gravitational field.

Coriolanus wanted to appear like the sun, bright and powerful but he only displayed one face like the moon. You felt small, needing for something to orbit around as the moon did, but you didn’t know how radiant and capable you actually were, exactly like the sun.

Since you moved in his house, nights were longer than the others. It was getting harder to fall asleep because of your intrusive thoughts keeping you awake.

Is the door locked? Am I safe here?

The positive side was that your new room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. Then, you were not freezing anymore and you were finally eating food, not stolen fruit and smelly milk.

Even though you were living in his house, you tried avoiding his presence: by not having lunch the same hour as him, by going out your room only when you heard his door locking or having your usual meetings with Iris before him. That was your way of saying that he could not control your life, especially when he treated you the way he did.

However, that was still his house.

Red silky bed sheets, roses scent, his gold engraved initials on objects.

Coriolanus was not easy to forget. It was as if he had poisoned the air you were breathing, everything reminding you of him. The good and the bad. You promised yourself to not be tempted anymore, he was mercilessly manipulating you into believing he was the person he wanted to appear at the Capitol. But other than his mesmerizing eyes, his golden curls and delicate hands, there was another man hiding in his shadow. You had to picture that side of him every time he teased you, or you could be a sinner.

You were laying on the bed, leafing through the pages of the brand new script it was sent to your room. This was even worse than the other. Not only you had to remember some political matters regarding the current campaign, but you had to pretend again how good of a man Coriolanus was. How he supported and cared for you and how bright your plans as a couple were.

“I was extremely lucky to meet him, he is the sun to my dark days,” what an irony, “I am looking forward to living this exquisite love fully by his side.”

So cheesy for what?

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

You heard a muffled voice coming from the hallway, you walked towards the door but you didn’t answer. It was him of course, after the bad there was the good. He surprisingly tried talking with you on other occasions, but you had walked away before he could even finish his sentence, running away was easier, or god knows what you could’ve done.

“I can hear your heavy breathing,” he said close to the door, “open the door or I will,” he was waiting for your response, thinking about what he could say to get your attention. “Please?” Good manners are always the right answer, right? Right?

You let out a sight as you unlocked the door. Coriolanus was standing close to the room’s entrance, his arm was leaning against the wooden jamb and you noticed he was wearing his coat, as if he was about to go out.

“Oh so you’re alive,” he said, “I was worried about you.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but it didn’t matter either way. Right?

“What do you want?” You were still holding the doorknob, not letting him step inside the room.

“Come with me, we have to go somewhere,” he said with a rush in his tone.

“I kindly refuse your invitation,” you were about to close the door but he put his hand in between. I could squash his fingers, you thought, nothing he could not recover from.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, “sooner or later you will have to pretend to like me,” his face was partially illuminated by your room light, making his eyes brighter.

You looked at his long fingers keeping the door open, he had his usual shiny ring on his index finger and for a moment you thought you could really squash his hand, “I think it’s better we have less interactions possible apart from the social events.”

“It’s been days since people saw us together, yesterday they asked about you at the debate,” he hissed, “see? Instead of asking about my political project they were– nevermind, just come with me.” His eyes were begging you, such a satisfying image.

“I’m not dressed up, what a pity,” you said mockingly.

He peeked at your figure, “you’re fine.”

You did not feel fine. You weren’t even wearing your clothes, you did not had the chance to pack up your things from your apartment and you had to ask Tigris for some piece of clothing that could fit you. She gave you some of her designs, a green matcha wool skirt matched with a cotton white top. At least you were about to wear pretty clothings, not your old unironed shirts.

“Just for show,” you said while grabbing a jacket.

“Just for show,” he echoed.

You realised that in this game of power and appearances, keeping your distance wasn't an option anymore. You knew that you were now entwined in a dangerous dance with Coriolanus, one that could lead to momentous success or catastrophic ruin. The stakes were high and your mixed feelings towards him could not interfere with your plan, he was not the only manipulator anymore.

“Where is he bringing me?” you asked Virma after fifteen minutes of silence in the car. It was better not talking directly to Coriolanus when possible.

“Miss, isn’t this a date? Enjoy the ride,” the driver said with a smile.

You and Coriolanus laughed. Date? The only date you were looking for was the date this show would end. The car stopped and from the window you immediately recognised the place. It was not a fancy restaurant, a loud club or someone’s wealthy mansion.

First date with Coriolanus Snow at… the Citadel?

That was not what the script said.

You heard the car speeding away as he walked towards the huge grey entry, he unlocked the door and he stepped inside. You stood on the sidewalk, not sure if you wanted to follow him, it was too late to change your mind and too dark to be alone outside.

At least ten peacekeepers were guarding the entrance but Coriolanus walked towards the grey corridor unbothered. The first time you were there, you were searched as if you were a prisoner, as if you could hide a bomb inside your small pockets. This time they did not even consider you, because you both spent months working day and night in that cold laboratory.

The elevator plunged down at least twenty floors, the dark walls were so thick you could strain your vocal chords for hours but no one would hear you. You were standing beside him, waiting for the door to open as soon as possible. The only sound echoing in that place was the loud machinery that was slowly moving down.

“Did you miss this place so much you wanted a guided tour by me?” You asked, breaking the silence, “or is it a surprise party for me?” Five floors left, “tell me now so I put my best smile for the cameras,” you said mockingly, but he didn’t even look at you.

Couldn’t this man laugh for once? So boring.

The elevator doors parted and you finally stepped inside the laboratory. It was an open space divided into three areas. The center was where Dr. Gaul did experiments with animals, occasionally it was also where she did her lectures and exams; one side was the sterile area where the researchers did surgical operations and medical trials where they often experimented with new drugs on genetically modified animals; on the other side, there was the library and research tables, where you mostly spent most of your time studying advanced biotechnology methods.

“How romantic– I guess what people are going to say when I tell them for our first date you took me to see these sweet and lovely creatures,” you said as you looked at the wall glass with dead beasts inside clear yellowish cases.

“You should keep the bar low with me— and I just need to find some documents, you know this laboratory better than me,” he removed his coat and stepped towards the library on the other side of the room.

“You tricked me– you just wanted a favor from me,” your voice echoed and you were not sure he heard you. You walked through the library looking for him.

“I’m in the archives section,” his voice was not far away.

The library was arranged in a circular pattern, as if the bookshelves were layers and in the very core there was a large space with study desks, the ones you had slept on many nights back when you worked there. Soon you found the blonde leaning over a desk while reading some pages in an orange envelope.

“Did you find it?” You asked in an annoyed tone.

“Here there is– this is your file,” he said while standing up.

“My what now?” You walked over him, intended to grab the envelope with the 'confidential' print on the cover.

Coriolanus stepped back, leaning his back on the bookshelf behind him, “given your precedents, I thought it was better to check your past before they did,” he had already read your file a long time ago, but he didn’t tell you that.

He started reading the first page, “you uhm graduated with honors in medicine– bla bla bla first student in your class, —okay here, you specialized in general surg— oh no you did not” he paused, “yet?” Coriolanus looked at you with a puzzled face, suggesting you to say something.

“I will this year,” you looked at your fingers, fidgeting with the ends of your jacket.

“Lie number one, here it says you didn’t pay the tuition,” he pointed at the paper.

Fuck. You couldn’t afford paying for electricity, imagine the university fees, in the most expensive city in Panem. You stuttered something but he continued talking.

“Anyway, you got a place in the Ranvistill Clinic —impressive— and then you mysteriously asked for a transfer after two years, and this is how you got here,” he looked at you, “what happened?”

Was that a tricky question? This conversation was making you uncomfortable. You felt under trial, as if you were accused of crimes, Coriolanus was the judge and you were the only one defending yourself.

“Is this an interview? I didn’t know that apart from being interested in writing scripts you also were a human resource guy,” you tried switching the topic, the conversation was getting too personal.

“Do you have something to hide? I must be prepared for anything they can ask me,” he frowned.

You had many secrets you hoped he didn’t already know, “I changed jobs, that’s it.”

“You failed my test,” he chuckled, “you lied straight to my face in a serious matter –this is lie number two.”

“A test? What the hell Coriolanus.” You sighed as you walked over a desk, sitting on it.

“See? This is why you don’t have my trust.”

The man that cannot be trusted was really talking about trust?

“If you already know every detail of my life, why are you talking with me?”

“Oh, I knew it was going to bother you —anyway no, there’s just something that does not add up.” His eyes went again on that file, hands leafing through pages.

“Which is,” you said with a passive tone.

“Clodius South, head of the surgery department —or I should say, your umh— ex boyfriend?” He closed the folder and put it carelessly on the shelf behind him.

Your heart skipped a bit, “I’m done,” you stood up but he came closer to you.

“Answer just one question, I'm curious– why did he fire you? I mean, officially you transferred but I know it wasn’t voluntary,” he didn’t seem to give up, his look was pleading for answers, “so strange, you had been together for a year.”

“Why are you so interested in my sentimental life? You don’t have a chance with me, you know that right?” You laugh, feeling the tension in the air.

“There is no such risk, I’m not attracted to you,” his figure blocked you from walking away, “I just need your popularity, so I can fix it to something good.”

“You were the one kissing me in the car,” you bit your tongue, that kiss was something you didn’t want to bring up, it was better to forget about it. However, the other option was talking about your past, not something you were proud of.

“Oh please as if you didn’t want to,” he tilted his head, eyes locked on yours.

You laughed at his words, “you wish,” your back leaned against the desk.

“Then why did you kiss me back? I remember you didn’t let me breathe for a moment.”

“That was part of the show, Coriolanus Snow.”

“Now you use my full name? Last time I checked you called me differently,” he rested his arm on the desk you were lying on, making his height the same as yours.

You damned the only time it slipped from your lips calling him Coryo, a nickname you promised yourself to not say ever again.

“Why? Did it turn you on?”

His other hand was near your leg, slowly moving closer to your exposed skin.

“You can’t even imagine,” he swiftly looked down to your lips then back to your eyes.

The room did not feel cold anymore. Your breathing was getting slower, his parted lips warming your skin, his arm grazing your leg.

“So tell me, what happened with him?” Coriolanus insisted, but you had other plans in mind.

He was in power right now, he brought you here just to humiliate you with your deepest secrets. Weren't you just a miserable girl? It was your turn to make him feel miserable.

“You say you’re not attracted to me but you always find an excuse to touch me,” you whispered to his ear, his curls brushing your nose and his hand slightly brushing your leg.

This would have made him back off, telling you how stupid you are to think something like that, gaslighting you about the fact he never did such things like touching you.

“If it bothers you so much why you never push me away,” his hand traveled up to your leg, “go on, I’m waiting,” his fingers were now brushing your thigh and you felt his cold ring against your skin.

Fuck. That was not your plan.

You can always get back to it.

“I know your limits— I bet you barely touched a woman in your life,” you knew it was not true, you only said it as a provocation, to hurt his fragile ego as you planned.

I won.

”I don’t have limits, and we both know you would lose your bet,” his hand went under the hem of your skirt, making you shiver in surprise.

His index finger traced the outline of your panties, slightly playing with the waistband. Coriolanus didn’t break eye contact with you, his pupils were wide, you couldn’t see the blue that usually painted his iris, he was breathing slowly with parted lips, as if he wanted to control his heartbeat. And his hand felt so warm and familiar, so close to your core.

You knew that look, the one that he gave you when he let his guard down. The same look Coriolanus had when you came in his study a couple of days ago, his other side that he rarely showed to anyone.

His palm rested on your bare naked thigh.

“You don’t talk now?” His voice soothed your face, “tell me to stop and I will.”

That was the perfect occasion to slap that smug from his face, but you couldn’t even make up a coherent sentence. His voice was a gentle whisper cutting through the tension, but all you could manage was to stare at his eyes, trying to calculate his next move.

You knew what it was. It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that could shatter your plan. Did you have something to lose? You have already bent your morals, risked your life and crossed lines you never thought you would. Coriolanus would have been another crime to add to your list.

He is the forbidden fruit, I shall not fall in temptation.

But what if I took just a bite? A taste of mortal sin.

“Why did you bring me here?” You managed to say trying to control your breathing.

“You once asked me why did I chose you,” Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “and I told you that it was for the presidential campaign,” his hand moved up again, “publicity, press and interviews— I only care about that,” his fingers were covering your clothed cunt.

You took a deep breath and swallowed, your back was still leaning against the desk edge, his other arm on your side. His words were not making things easier for you, not because you were listening to what he actually was saying, but because his tone of voice was something you could only hear in these moments. When he acted good, for the cameras, for the show. But there was no one in that room.

Coriolanus kept talking, “but my point is, why didn't you leave?” His index finger circled around your covered core, “I mean— I could list a few reasons why, considering also how wet you are right now,” he pulled your panties to the side, exposing your wetness. “But you always say you hate me, that you despise me, why are you here then? Are you so desperate?”

Your eyes were closed, your mind wandered prohibited thoughts while his hand was painfully too far away from what your body needed. What could you say to him? That he was right about being so desperate to pretend to be with him, so you could clean your image? That despite his selfish behavior he was tempting you into falling in his game?

Coriolanus brushed your soaked entrance with his fingertips as he massaged your clit with your own wetness. You shamefully spread your legs giving him more access to your folds, his digits that once touched your face were gently rubbing your needy center.

Your silent whimpers were enough as an answer for him to slide one finger inside you.

Your hand was now on his biecep, grabbing his arm so tightly or you could fall. There was something in you that was holding you back from punching him to his face. Was this the charm everyone talked about? Was this the version of him everyone adored?

“Given that you prefer remaining silent— I can tell you why,” his hand moved inside you, “you like the attention,” your cheek was against his, while your other hand rested on the nape of his neck.

Your reaction to his movements made him close his eyes in bliss, but you were too focused on not making sounds that you didn’t notice his expression. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that he was making you feel good.

“I bet you’ve barely been touched by a man,” Coriolanus echoed.

It’s just one bite of the apple.

You looked at him this time, and you wished you did it before. The blue in his eyes, his plump lips, the glistening on his forehead covered by his falling blonde curls. An angel.

No, no, he is the devil, not an angel.

“Wrong,” you breathed and his pace fastened, “actually they were better than you,” you whispered and his eyes widened.

“Lie number three,” he slid another finger, “I can tell when you’re pretending and when you’re not,” he brushed your clit with his thumb.

Oh.

You bucked your hips to make some friction, Coriolanus was painfully slow as if he was taking all the time in the world. He leaned his head to your left temple, where small reddish bruises were fading away from your skin, and he planted feather kisses on it. Coriolanus slowly traced a trail of wet kisses alongside your face. His soft lips were healing your bruises, his hand was igniting your core.

His fingers moved faster, pumping in and out your hole and slightly curled to hit exactly your sweet spot. Your little moans echoed in the room along with the sloppy sound of his hand never leaving your cunt. Coriolanus stroked your bundle of nerves once more, his lips sucked a spot behind your hear, slowly moving down your neck, marking your delicate skin with his warm kisses.

That was it. You were sure your high was coming in a matter of seconds, your mouth curved as pleasure began flowing through your body.

“But wasn’t I an uncaring, disrespectful —and what was that—oh, selfish and heartless man?” His hand stopped moving, “well I guess you were right,” his fingers were slowly pulling out your unfulfilled hole.

What was he doing?

“Did you really think you could do whatever you wanted? Having meetings without me, eating locked in your room, ignoring me for days— I have the control here.” Coriolanus looked down at you with a satisfied expression, believing that he finally asserted his dominance over you.

Your mind raced for a response, but before you could gather yourself, his words hung heavy in the air.

That was his revenge.

You thought you could teach him a lesson but he was a step ahead of you. Coriolanus humiliated you, exactly as he planned. His intent was to make you feel ashamed of your past but you gave him a better opportunity: he made you feel needy for him.

Self sabotaging.

“They are here,” he said in a calm tone, as if you were not almost buckling in that very moment.

Five seconds ago you were close to your orgasm and now you were feeling the emptiness growing inside you. You looked around confused, adjusting your body so now you were standing up, your weak knees begging for rest.

Who?

“They?” You stuttered as you watched him stepping back.

“Yes, I called them before,” he smirked, ”put your best smile for the cameras.”

Coriolanus acted like he did not just had his fingers inside you, but his body was telling another story, his bulge was visible from his pants and you noticed that as he swiftly covered his erection with his hand.

He walked towards the elevator where two peacekeepers were waiting for him. You fixed your skirt, probably too ruined and sticky to ever wear it again.

Fuck him.

You followed him, making sure to walk properly or he would’ve noticed how flustered you were. The thick doors closed, it was you, two peacekeepers and the blonde. You were sure he could smell your arousal, you still had traces of his saliva on your neck and a little bruise on your skin. A new one.

Coriolanus took a handkerchief from his pocket and he carefully cleaned his hand from your wetness, like he was cleaning his hands after a crime. Yours. The cloth wrapped around his fingers, as your walls clenched around him moments ago.

Then he caught you staring at his hand, “are you okay? You look flushed.”

You sick bastard.

Your cheeks were painted in a crimson color, of course he could see that, he was the cause of that. The same cause that made you cream your panties and shake your legs. If it wasn’t for the peacekeepers, you would have probably strangled him. But that was his lucky day.

He won.

After an infinite amount of time where your mind couldn’t stop picturing the sloppy sound from before, the elevator’s door parted. Coriolanus grabbed your shoulder as he was directed toward the exit. The silence in that room was now replaced by loud voices coming from the outside.

“Who did you call?” You tried pulling away from his grip but he kept you close.

“I told you, they haven’t seen us in a while.”

He opened the entrance and you heard someone shouting, “they are here!” A group of unknown faces were pointing microphones towards you, asking questions you didn’t bother to listen to.

You walked through the crowd side by side to him, his arm around your waist as you covered your face from the blinding flashes. The car was waiting for you in the exact spot it left you, Coriolanus let you enter in the car first as he followed by closing the door, blocking the loudness outside.

You sat on the back seat, heart racing outside your chest, forcing yourself to completely ignore his presence.

Coriolanus was again back in your thoughts as your wetness slid down your legs.

He is the forbidden fruit.

I am tempted by thee.

A/N: finally it’s out!! It has been so hard writing this chapter, I had so many ideas that I couldn’t mold them together into a coherent text lol. Anyway, as always tell me if there are grammatical mistakes because another difficulty was my limited vocabulary (a special thanks to wordreference.com or I wouldn’t be here today.) Every day I’m trying my best to improve my English so have mercy on me! Let me know if you want to be tagged next time!! 💌

Thank you so much for all the love and support!! Your comments mean a lot to me ❤️❤️ I love you all

ask me questions here 💌

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[alovesongtheywrote]

Cranberry Juice | Eddie Munson x Reader

♥ Summary:  Getting kidnapped from a grocery store wasn't exactly on your to-do list, but neither was having sex with your blood-drunk vampire boyfriend on the dead bodies of your captors, so... [Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]

♥ Warnings:  18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. Violence, gore, kidnapping, gun related violence & violence against women, drinking blood, drinking blood in a sexual nature, biting, minor character death, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink, very brief dubcon, monster fucking, angst, fluff.

♥ A/N: holy fuck, i haven't written a fem/afab reader in years. i've also never written smut before, so this is new.

♥ Word count:  15945

♥♥♥

You would think that in the two years following the murder of Chrissy Cunningham and the supposed death of Eddie Munson, Hawkins, Indiana would have calmed down a little bit.  You would at least assume that they would put down their pitchforks and torches and give Eddie’s friends and loved ones some room to breathe- after all, Eddie’s name had been cleared of any and all crimes, and he was, as far as they knew, literally dead.

But nope!

Nope!  No!  No way!  You still couldn’t leave your house without receiving a thousand angry glares from a thousand angry hicks.  Really, you didn’t feel comfortable leaving the house alone anymore, and no one could blame you for that.  Between the threats you’d received, the shit you’d seen, and the way the town banded together to hunt down your boyfriend in 1986, you were more than justified in feeling unsafe.

This drove Eddie up the fucking wall.

You were his partner, the love of his undead life, and he couldn’t protect you from the same town that initially drove him into hiding- the town that he had died saving.  He couldn’t protect Wayne, either, or the Hellfire Club kids for that matter.  He couldn’t shield any of you, or stick by your side throughout the day- the wings and claws that Vecna had so graciously given him upon his return to the living made hiding a little more than necessary.  And hey, if those new features weren’t bad enough on their own, Hawkins still wanted Eddie’s head on a pike.  If any Hawkins citizen saw him like this, in a new and monstrous form, that would be more than enough of an excuse to murder him then and there.

In short, Eddie was helpless.  His new features, the claws and fangs which were meant to maim and kill were useless when it came to defending his loved ones.  He was entirely unable to take care of the people he loved most, and he hated it.  

Anger and resentment festered inside of him.  He worried about you whenever you left the house.  Even when you were safe with him, a dark corner of his mind still spiraled through all the horrible possibilities.  He wanted to keep you safe, to keep you unharmed and alive, and the idea that he wouldn’t be able to do that gave him a sense of dread like no other.  

And then his fears were realized.

-

It started out as a simple shopping trip.  You needed to pick up a few things, so you went out to get them.  That’s how most people go about grocery shopping.  It was normal.  Painfully average considering everything else going on in your life, and honestly, you kind of liked that.

You didn’t go out alone.  Max also needed to pick up a few things, so you brought her with you.  You were smart about it.  You both kept your guards up and your keys between your fingers.  You were safe.  Or you were until you fell for the faux sense of safety provided by the fluorescent lights and the bland music playing overhead- a sense of safety that would be brutally fucking shattered.

Before that, though, you were just looking at juice.

The grocery store shelves in front of you were filled with bottles and bottles of beverages.  For a moment, you pondered just how many forms of cranberry juice a company could make.  The answer was a lot, apparently.  

At your side, Max was fidgeting, impatiently tapping her cane against the ground.  You couldn’t blame her, you’d been staring at juice for like, five minutes.

“Hey,” her voice was quiet, “If it’s cool with you, I’m gonna go grab the-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you snapped out of your juice-induced haze, “Go for it, I’ll be here.”

Letting her go was your first mistake.

She nodded at you and left the aisle, ignoring the pointed glare served to her by a middle-aged woman who occupied the aisle with you.  As soon as Max was gone, the woman’s glare found its true target.  The killer’s girlfriend.  The Munson boy’s accomplice.  You.

Unfortunately for the woman, your attention was already back on the juice.

Apple.  Blackberry.  Blueberry.  Cranberry.  Cran-apple.  Cran-pineapple.  Cran-mango.  Cran-cherry.  Cran-pomegranate.  There really were a lot of cranberry juices.  In all seriousness, you didn’t actually care about juice that much.  It was just a nice distraction from the oncoming-

“Devil’s whore.”

Oh, yep, there it was.

You said nothing as the woman swore at you.  You tuned out her whispered rant about your audacity- the nerve you had to go out in public after dating that ‘child-murdering monster.’  You were used to this treatment.  Not everyone in Hawkins was this intense.  Some were worse, and some were better, but there were enough angry citizens kicking around for you to grow numb to the insults.  As long as they weren’t threatening your life, you couldn’t find it within yourself to care.  You just focused on the juice and let her voice fade out.

That was your second mistake.

You tuned back in to the sound of a click- the sound of a gun’s safety turning off.  Panic filled your body as you returned to your surroundings.  The woman was gone.  Where she had vanished to was a mystery, but you didn’t really care.  Not when, in her place, a man stood, aiming a gun right at your stomach.

After noting the gun, the first things you noticed were the man’s eyes- ice blue, cold, and cruel.  He wore a sweatshirt beneath a white and green varsity jacket, the hood of which he had pulled up and over his blond hair.  It was a clear attempt to provide your attacker with some anonymity- of course, that was instantly cancelled out by the print on the sleeve that read, “Hawkins High, ‘84.”  He was your age- and when you looked closer, you realized that you knew him.

Kurt Robertson.  He had been a classmate of yours, a jock who had treated “freaks” like you and Eddie rather poorly.  Clearly, he had continued his athletic pursuits given his muscular frame.  Fear pooled in your stomach as you realized that you were no match for him.  You wouldn’t have been a match for him even if he didn’t have a gun.

You put your hands up slowly, “Hi, Kurt.  It’s nice to see you, too.”

“Don’t even try it, bitch.  Come with me,” he grabbed you by your shoulder, pushing the gun into your hip.

“Uh, maybe,” you were playing with fire, “Can I ask what this is about?”

“You know full well what this is about.  That freak boyfriend of yours murdered Chrissy- he murdered Jason, too.  They were good kids, and there’s no justice for them.”

“So you decided to find some at the grocery store?”

“Shut up, bitch, I’m talking,” he slammed you into the shelving unit.  You yelped like a wounded animal.  Two bottles of cranberry juice fell to the floor, cracking open as they met the ground.  Red spilled across the tiles.

“I’m here, we’re here,” he gestured to the store’s exit.  The implication of backup made you shiver, “To do good by Jason.  And Chrissy.  Munson took their lives- we figured we’d return the favour.  Send his slut to hell for him.”

A crooked smile spread across Kurt’s face as he let you go, pulling back from the shelves.  He gestured to the glass doors again, “Now, let’s get a move on, shall we?”

“What, you’re taking me to a secondary location?  Too afraid to kill me where everyone can see it?” It was an attempt to escape- to convince this guy to let you go.  If you could get him to fuck off, you might be able to slip out the backdoor and get to Eddie.  If you got to Eddie, you would be safe.

“No,” Kurt pressed the gun back against your stomach, “I just respect this fine establishment too much to get your fucking guts all over it.”

“This is a grocery store.”

“Hey!” your head jerked to the side to see who had spoken.  Kurt did the same.  Max was standing at the end of the aisle, her groceries in one hand and her cane in the other.  She looked angry, murderous- you were proud of her for that glare alone.

“Is there a problem here?” she scowled at the man in front of you.  You felt the gun turn.  Its side pressed against you, hiding from view in the fabric of your shirt.  The barrel was aimed at Max.  Shit.

You turned back to face Kurt.  He wouldn’t look at you.  His eyes were fixed on the red-haired girl- his new target.  You had to protect her.  She’d probably be pissed at you for having that thought, but you had to protect her.

“There’s no problem,” you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice, “I just ran into a former classmate.”

Max looked like she didn’t believe you in the slightest, not that you could blame her for that.  Everything from Kurt’s proximity to you to the juice on the floor spelled out trouble.  You blinked.

“Actually, do you think you’re good to find your own way home?  I think I’m gonna be a while.  Just catching up, y’know?”

You blinked again- three short blinks.  Three long blinks.  Three short ones.  You hoped she noticed.

She stared at you for a minute, looking deep into your eyes before nodding.  She coughed out a quick, “Yeah, it’s fine.  See you around,” and with that, Max was gone.  You could only hope that your message had been received.

Kurt waited for a moment.  The doors opened and closed.  Max had left.  Now, it was just you, a man with a gun, and a dozen shoppers who didn’t give a shit about whether or not Eddie Munson’s whore girlfriend got shot in the middle of the juice aisle.  

“Kurt,” you tried, watching as he took in your surroundings and fixed his eyes on the door, “Chrissy was a good kid, and I’m so sorry that she’s gone.  She didn’t deserve to die, but I promise, Eddie didn’t have anything to do with it-”

He took your arm in a grip that would surely leave bruises- if you lived long enough for them to form.  You winced but continued on, trying again to free yourself diplomatically, “And Jason- Jason was extreme, you have to admit, but I’m sorry about him, too.  He did some awful things, but he wasn’t evil-”

“Yeah, you’d know a lot about evil, wouldn’t you?” Kurt sneered, pulling you out of the store and into the alleyway behind it.  A pickup truck was parked there, waiting for you.  Diplomacy had failed.  You had to try something else.

The first thing you did was grab the gun and shove it away from you.  Kurt’s arm went with it, and he stumbled slightly.  You stumbled, too, but your balance came back to you faster than his did.  You used your brief advantage to punch your assailant in the face.  Your fist connected with his jaw, sending Kurt right to the ground.

You shook out your hand and took a step away, momentarily stunned by your pain and your power.  The doors of the pickup began to open.  You ran.  You were being chased by former jocks.  You didn’t get far.

Two arms wrapped around you- one around your chest, and one around your neck.  You tilted your head down and bit as hard as you possibly could.  The guy screamed, letting go of you just as another pair of arms took hold.

You struggled, turning around in the man’s hold and scratching at his eyes.  Someone ran behind you and grabbed at your arms, trying to stop you.  You thrashed, hissing and fighting like an angry animal.  It was futile.

You were pushed to the ground and a gun was pointed at your face.  Kurt glared down at you, his eyes full of hate and his lip gushing blood.  The rest of the boys backed off for the moment, standing on the sidelines, watching their leader.

“I should kill you.  I should kill you right now you fucking bitch.  Send you to hell with your Satanic fucking boyfriend.”

“Then do it,” you barked, adrenaline and impulse speaking for you more than anything else, “Kill me.  Unless you’re scared to do it you quivering pussy-”

Kurt slammed the gun into the side of your head.  Your vision went black.  Your hearing faded to a soft buzz.  Blood dripped down the length of your face.  You didn’t feel it.  You couldn’t feel anything.  You didn’t hear the panicked whispers of the jocks, nor the quietly exclaimed, “Holy shit, dude!  You fucking killed her!” or the, “She’s not dead, just knocked out, calm the fuck down,” that followed it.

For the moment, you were out of the game.  

The boys loaded you into the truck as fast as they could.  Their arms held you down, their hold on you tight, as if your unconscious body would spring up and perform a series of badass jiu-jitsu moves on them.  That didn’t happen, but they wanted to be prepared.  

The pickup sped out of the alleyway, putting the grocery store in its rearview mirror with law-breaking speed.  If any of the jocks had bothered to look in said rearview mirror, they would have noticed a red-headed girl using the payphone that stood near the grocery store parking lot.  

“Eddie?  It’s Max.  We have a problem.”

-

You woke to the stench of rotting wood and decomposing hay.  Beneath you, a filthy concrete floor provided a cold embrace.  Small stones and various pieces of dirt and debris dug into your soft flesh.  In this position, your leg was twisted under your weight at an awkward angle.  

Damning the discomfort, you kept still.  Every part of you was tense, ready, waiting for some sign or sound of your abductors.  Nothing happened.  The only sound was the faint scurrying of mice, and the wind blowing through the trees outside.  Still hesitant, you opened your eyes.

Most of the structure around you was made of decaying wood.  Planks and beams extended across a vast room, stretching up to a high ceiling to meet with crumbling rafters.  In some places, red and white paint had been applied to cover up some of the damage, but after years of neglect, the attempted solution had faded and chipped away.

Beams of golden sunlight streamed into the barn through dirty glass windows, and through a large square hole in the wall that had once housed a door.  Far above your head, shitty old lights buzzed harshly, illuminating all of the grime that the sun couldn’t reach.  

Outside, you could see a weed-filled field running off to a line of trees in the distance.  Brambles twisted up near the barn’s entrance.  Wildflowers bloomed among nettles and thorns.  Vines tangled with the faulty wood of the walls.  Even inside the barn, little sprouts popped up through cracks in the concrete.  Dandelions puffed near rusted old farming equipment and piles of wasted hay.

This place was oddly beautiful- and clearly abandoned.  You were far from help, and from the sound of it, you were completely alone.  

Cautiously, you got to your feet.  The spot of concrete that had served as your pillow was stained red.  You didn’t want to think about that too hard.  Putting it out of your mind, you took a few shaky steps, stumbling your way toward the exit.  Your bruised body screamed in protest.  The sound of your footfalls echoed through the barn.  You kept going.  It wasn’t like you had much of a choice.

A rusty pitchfork lay against the wall a few feet from the hole in the wall.  Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have touched the thing for fear of tetanus.  Unfortunately, these were not normal circumstances.  You armed yourself quickly and continued on, inching forward until the concrete turned to gravel underfoot.  

You didn’t make it far.

The sound your movements made alerted your captors to the fact that you were awake.  You could hear something drop around the side of the barn- something heavy.  Male voices swore loudly.  The sound of curses and other exclamations rang through the field, polluting the otherwise beautiful golden hour.  

You looked around, desperately searching for a place to hide.  You found nothing.  There was no hiding place among the weeds and brambles, no space for nature to pull you in and protect you.  Your fists tightened around the pitchfork as you realized that this would come down to a fight.  

Unfortunately, you were right.  

Jocks ran out from behind the barn like ants swarming from a hill.  Someone cried out, “Skin only!  Don’t kill her yet!”

You vaguely recognized some of the faces before you- the first one was Andy, one of the jocks who had been after Eddie in ‘86.  You were able to push him back with your makeshift weapon.  The next jock, unfortunately, got much closer.  The smell of weed assaulted you, which was quickly followed by an actual assault.  A fist met your cheek, and you staggered back, keeping yourself up with the handle of the pitchfork.

The jock didn’t let up.  Another punch came your way, but you managed to step back and avoid it.  The guy kicked at you weakly, but you easily dodged that, too.  In retaliation, you raised the pitchfork and brought it down flat over the guy’s head, knocking him to the ground.  

Alas, you were still surrounded.  Five more jocks were perfectly ready for a fight, and you were quickly running out of strength and luck.  Panic and pain surged through you as another hit connected with your jaw.  A fist collided with your stomach.  You fell to your knees.  Another hand met your face.  A ring broke the skin of your lips.  Your chosen weapon fell to the ground as blow after blow fell upon you.  

You did your best to shelter yourself from the attack.  Sharp aches echoed through your limbs with every blow.  You tried to separate yourself from the moment, mentally and physically.  Curling into a ball on the ground and disassociating didn’t exactly make you feel brave or heroic, but it kept you from taking too much damage.  Still, you knew you wouldn’t be able to walk the next day- if you lasted that long.

You barely noticed when the kicks and punches stopped coming.  You only snapped out of it fully when someone grabbed your arm.  You winced.  It was the first reaction they’d gotten from you since the attack began.

“Good,” Kurt grinned, “We didn’t break you.”

You said nothing, biting back several sarcastic remarks.  None of them seemed appropriate for the situation.  Instead, you slid your tongue over your lip, collecting the blood that pooled there.  The next time Kurt opened his mouth to speak, you spit in his face.  

“You fucking bitch!” Kurt shrieked, wiping frantically at his face, “Tie her up and get her back in the barn.  We’re gonna take this slow, got it?  She doesn’t get a quick death.”

Kurt’s lackeys obeyed.  Someone bound your wrists together in front of you with duct tape.  Rough hands pulled you up from the ground and shoved you back toward the barn.  Fear began to take anger’s place as they threw you to the concrete.  Blood dripped from your lip to the floor.  You watched as it bleed between rocks and cracks below you.  How much blood would you lose tonight?

Your heart raced.  Breath escaped your battered lungs, but you couldn’t seem to pull any air in.  Kurt glared down at you, his form outlined by the light of the setting sun.  He looked at you like you were some sort of vermin he had to dispose of.  You were sure that in his eyes, that was the truth.  

The gun was in his hand.

“Remind me, Andy.  How did they find Jason’s girl again?”

“I dunno.  They didn’t even let her parents see her face.  But Patrick,” Andy knelt down in front of you and grabbed your chin with two fingers, forcing you to look at him, “I got to see Patrick.  All of his bones were shattered.  Some kind of freak ritual, I guess.”

“Well, we don’t have a freak ritual, but,” Kurt aimed the gun at your leg, “We can always improvise.  Answer me this, boys- will a bone break apart if you hit it with a bullet?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

His finger wrapped around the trigger.  

A deafening bang echoed off the barn’s walls.

The sound didn’t come from the gun.  Something had crashed into the roof.  Dust reigned down on you and the boys as you all looked up, peering at the ceiling.  Above you, the old lights began to flicker.  The air seemed to chill by a few degrees.

The jocks staggered slightly, their eyes off of you and fixed on the ceiling.  They all jumped as the horrendous screech of tearing metal met their ears.  Whatever had landed on the roof, it was now clawing its way off.  The boys turned to face the door, gripping their weapons and putting up their fists.   

An inhuman sound split the calm twilight.  You knew it well- that unnerving, predatory growl.  You’d heard it a few times before, while running for your life in the Upside Down.  While you watched the bats tear your lover apart.  You fell back, crawling deeper into the barn.  

The lights flicked off.

When they came back on, Eddie was standing in the would-be doorway of the barn, wings spread and fangs bared.  

“Is that-?” one of the jocks whispered.

“Munson,” Andy spat.  Kurt raised his gun, aiming the barrel at its new target.

He didn’t get the chance to shoot.

Eddie attacked first.  He flew forward, seizing the face of the nearest man in his claws.  In seconds, the man’s head was nothing more than a bloody mess.  Screams filled the air as the first jock fell to the ground.  Eddie fell with him, teeth to the man’s neck as blood pooled around them, a blood-red mirror on the concrete floor.  

Your attackers stood stunned as Eddie moved on, leaving a body behind.  Garnet drops flew to the floor as Eddie tore the next attacker into tiny little pieces.  You were almost hypnotized by the way Eddie’s teeth sunk into the guy’s neck, by the way Eddie’s claws tore through his flesh.  You could practically hear the sound of blood draining from his veins.  When he pulled back, Eddie’s sweet brown eyes were blood red.

He was quick to jump at his next victim, claws and fangs tearing, and slashing, and biting until the man stopped moving.

It was only after that third man’s body was drained that your attackers shook themselves from their reverie and began to retaliate.  They’d been aching for a chance to hurt Eddie for years.  Now, they had even more of an excuse to kill him- if Eddie was a freak before, then what was he with wings and fangs?  To them, he was a monster.  He always had been, and he always would be.

They attacked.  

It wasn’t too effective, all things considered.  A fist flew at Eddie, and in response, he grabbed the offending hand, pulled the man close to him, and put his claws through the man’s chest.  You almost felt sick at the sight of it- your boyfriend’s hand, rings and all, coming through the back of a man who beat you minutes before.  

You knew Eddie was stronger now, inhumanly so, but you had never seen him use that strength like this- not on a person, at least.  You were never afraid of Eddie.  You knew that he would rather die than hurt you.  But watching what he could do to a human- it filled you with unease, and with some other emotion that you refused to name.  

That nameless emotion screamed in your ears as Eddie pulled the man towards him using the hand still in his chest.  Eddie brought his fangs to the man’s throat and drank.

The sound of wood splintering filled the air as Eddie blocked a blow from a bat with his claws.  He pulled his mouth away from his latest victim’s neck so that he could handle the weapon.   He discarded the bat quickly, throwing it clear across the barn.  He threw the wielder next, impaling him on some old farming equipment.  The dandelions that lived beneath the aged machine were showered in a gush of ruby and wine.   

Andy was next.  He came at Eddie with a crowbar, and your stomach turned as you realized that all the jocks’ weapons- the bats, the crowbars, and the gun- were meant for you.  You winced as Andy managed to land a hit, striking Eddie in the shoulder with enough strength to down a regular man.  Fortunately, Eddie was not a regular man.  He seized the crowbar and bent it, letting it fall to the floor.

“You- you killed Chrissy!  And Patrick, and Jason-!”

Eddie’s eyes bore into Andy’s, speaking untold volumes, simmering with rage.  Eddie wiped the blood from his mouth and took a step toward the jock.

“I didn’t kill any of them.  I didn’t touch any of them.  But you?  You made my girl bleed.  You’re gonna pay for that.”  

In seconds, Andy was on the ground, unconscious or dead, you couldn’t tell.  Blood dripped from his nose and mouth.  Eddie didn’t bother drinking from him.

For a moment, then, the world fell silent.  Eddie’s eyes met yours across the barn, across the sea of blood that he had spilled to protect you.  Despite the gore, despite the blood that stained Eddie’s hands and the space under his nails, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him.  He was here.  You were safe now.

But thinking that was your third mistake.

Eddie smiled back, and as he did, another ear-piercing bang echoed through the barn.  There was nothing on the roof.  There was nothing clawing down to the barn.  There was nothing but you and Eddie, Kurt and his gun.

Eddie brought his hand to his side.  When he moved it away, his skin was stained with both his blood and the blood of those he’d slain.  You screamed.  Eddie fell to his knees.  Kurt took aim again.  He levelled the gun at Eddie’s head.

You leapt at Kurt, using your bound fists as a weapon.  You caught the man by surprise, knocking him right to the ground.  The gun slid across the floor, away from both of you.  Kurt quickly took the advantage, rolling over and pinning your hips to the ground with his.  He raised his fist and brought it down on your face, once, then twice.

He didn’t land a third punch.  Eddie tackled him off of you, hurling Kurt’s body away from yours.  He stayed in front of you, protecting you from Kurt, blocking him from view.  He was your shield, keeping you safe and out of the other man’s reach.  Eddie snarled like an animal- a predator.  It was a warning to Kurt.  A message telling him, on no uncertain terms, to stay put.

Kurt did no such thing.  He jumped at Eddie.  Thick fingers dug deep into the bloody mark on Eddie’s side.  He cried out in agony- the sound was something akin to a roar.

“You’re a monster,” Kurt yelled, his hands now covered in the dark cranberry shades of Eddie’s blood,  “You’re a FUCKING MONSTER!”

Eddie stumbled backwards, a pained gasp leaving his lips.  Your attacker showed no mercy.  He advanced, landing a hit on Eddie’s jaw.  Eddie fell to his knees.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” Kurt reached for the gun.  He couldn’t find it.

Another shot rang out.  

The sound echoed around the barn.

Blood spilled out from the brand-new bullet wound in Kurt’s chest.  He fell to the ground with a dull thud.  His blood pooled beneath him, like cranberry juice on the floor of a grocery store.  Another blood-red mirror to reflect another lifeless corpse.  Another red stain on the concrete.

You stood behind him, gun held tightly in your bound hands.

Silence followed.  You could hear Eddie’s panting, and the sound of your heartbeat rushing in your ears.  The busted farm lights buzzed overhead.  Outside, in the twilight, cicadas sang, serenading you both.  Each breath you took was tainted by the iron scent of blood.  A chill danced up your skin.  The barn was still cold- so fucking cold.

Eddie was struggling.  New blood coursed through his system, making every inch of him feel warm.  Something beneath his skin started to itch.  He wanted to move.  He wanted to hunt.  He wanted you.  He wanted to see you spread out before him, breathless and quivering, completely drunk on his cock.  He wanted the taste of your blood to stain his tongue.  He could feel an unending pulsation spread through him, driving him forward, almost controlling him in a way. His eyes met yours for just a moment before he forced himself to look away.  A growl left his lips.

Across the room, you watched Eddie’s silent crisis, completely unaware of the feral desires harboured behind his big doe eyes.  His claws curled at the concrete.  You could hear them scratching against it- almost carving through it entirely.  His breath seemed to come faster and faster, his chest rapidly rising and falling with every second that passed.  You panicked, slightly, taking a small step towards him as your fear for his safety overtook your brain.

You lowered the gun.  

“Eddie?” You called out, shattering the quiet with your desperation.  Your voice was weak, shaking.  You sounded broken.

In an instant, Eddie was on his knees before you.  His cold clawed hands ran up your thighs and over your hips, slender fingers checking for hidden injuries, leaving goosebumps in their wake.   His movements were gentle, though they edged on desperate, almost animalistic.  Your heart twinged with guilt as sparks flew from each place he touched.  Despite the situation, you wanted more of this- more of him.

You got just that when his lips joined his hands.  He painted each part of you with kisses, brushing his mouth over your knees, your thighs, your hips.  He paused over the faint purple of a forming bruise on your leg, his touch hovering over it slightly as passionate concern tore a growl from deep within his chest.  You could feel his breath against your skin, hard and fast, nothing short of panicked.  His fear for you melted your heart.  You whispered his name.  It came out as a plea- a blasphemous prayer in a God-fearing town.

“I’m here,” he replied, his voice low, “I’m right here, sweetheart.  I’ve got you.  Are you alright?”

You nodded, trying to breathe again as you adjusted to the safety of his presence.  His hands slid up your body as he leaned in, pressing his lips and then his teeth against the soft skin of your thigh.  He bit down, enough to mark you but not enough to make you bleed, “I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you.  I promise.”

You whimpered, taking his chin between your fingers, urging him to meet your eyes.  His face was pale, and his normally messy hair was wild and slightly damp from sweat.  Blood spilled from his bottom lip.  You couldn’t tell if it was his.  Gently, you brushed the blood away with your thumb.  He leaned into your touch, shutting his eyes for a moment, letting himself be there with you.  When he opened his eyes again, there was something dark contained in the sweet brown of his irises- a grim determination.

“Baby,” he groaned, raising a hand to your wrists, “I’m gonna untie you, and then-” he paused, taking a deep breath.

“And then?”

“And then I need you to run.”

“What?  Why?  What’s wrong-?” a fresh wave of panic shot through you at Eddie’s warning.

Eddie paused for a moment.  When he spoke again, he almost sounded afraid, “It’s nothing.  Nothing’s wrong, sweetheart.  I just- I need you to run from me.”

“Eddie, what do you mean?”

He didn’t answer.

“Eddie- Eddie, please-”

He dug his fingers into your thighs, pulling you down and knocking you onto your back.  A small cry escaped you.  Your heart began to pound in your chest as one of his massive hands curled in the dust beside you.  In the time it took to blink, he was leaning over you, caging you in with his body.  One of his legs found its home between yours.  The way he stared down at you was a new kind of desperate- he looked hungry.  Empty.  Starving.

“I’ve had too much blood tonight, baby,” he leaned in, nipping at your throat, all teeth, no fangs.  He made a point not to bite, “And it did something to me.”

“S-something?”

He slipped his hands into yours, pinning your arms above your head by your still-bound wrists.  He pulled back to look at you, ravenous devotion clouding his eyes, “Something, baby.  I don’t know what, but I-”

He cut himself off, looking away from your face and shutting his eyes tightly as if he could somehow fend off what he was feeling by pretending to be somewhere else.  His grip on you tightened, and you fought off the urge to whimper.  Again, you whispered his name.

“I want to taste you,” Eddie sounded horrified at his own words, but he didn’t stop, “I wanna feel you succumb beneath my hands.  I want to feel your heart race for me, but I can’t tell whether it’s your blood I want on my tongue, or you.   And I- I can’t hurt you, so I need you to run, okay?”

His eyes were still closed.  He still refused to look at you.  He seemed so deeply ashamed- and yet, heat pooled inside you, flowing down to your core.  You drew in a breath, your chest rising sharply.  Blood rushed to your cheeks, heating your face until everything beneath your skin felt like fire.  Your eyes widened.  Your thighs shook slightly.  Any sense of self-preservation you had was throwing itself out the window in the wake of the fire that Eddie had unknowingly set inside of you- a fire that you had no intention of putting out.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed at your physical response.  He leaned down, lips brushing against your ear, “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid?  Of you?” your voice shook, and your body trembled beneath him, but a small smile took over your features at the thought, “Never.”

Eddie pressed his forehead against your shoulder.  A small grin crossed his features, though there was no joy in it.  There was something tragic in every movement he made.  A desperate longing drove every action- a want for something he could not have.

“Goddamnit, I love you,” he whispered.  His words were almost a whine, “But I need you to get out of here, okay?  I need you to get somewhere safe, somewhere away from me, and I need you to stay there.”

He pressed his lips back to your neck, sucking your skin in between his teeth with enough pressure to bruise, but not to break.  His claws bit into the tape, beginning to tear it.

“Eddie-” you spoke fast, panicking at the thought of leaving him like this, “Eddie, I’m not going anywhere.  Not when you’re hurt.  Look, I know you’re afraid to hurt me, and I know that you think you’re a monster, but you’re not,” you flushed as your voice broke, “You’re not a monster, Eds.  You- you make me feel safe.  I want to stay.”

He stopped tearing at the tape.

“Eddie,” you sounded more sure, “I’m here.  I’m staying, and you won’t hurt me, you won’t lose control-”

“You don’t know that,” he hissed, his voice filled with so much self-loathing that the sound of it broke your heart.

“But I do.  Eddie, everything you did tonight, you did to save me.  To protect me.  You aren’t gonna hurt me.  You’re not-”

His hand was on your throat.  He didn’t squeeze.  There was no pressure, but his claws pricked in against your fragile skin.  You should have been afraid of him, or at the very least you should have feared for your life.  Eddie was dangerous.  You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, but you’d just witnessed him murder several people with the claws that were now against your throat.  But in fear’s place, that deep longing still burned inside of you.   

”Baby,” Eddie warned, “I need you to understand.  There is so very little inside of me that wants to be nice, and there is so much of me that wants to-”

A sharp sting spread out from your neck as his claws drew the tiniest drops of blood.  He leaned closer to you, to your neck, “I don’t want to show mercy or kindness.  I want to fuck you until my cum is spilling out of you, until you can’t move, and then I wanna keep going.  I want to use you until you know that that pretty little slit between your legs belongs to me.  I want to claim you.  To own you.  To ruin you for everyone else.  I want you to bleed for me, and that is terrifying.”

He paused, releasing your throat from his hold and bringing his lips to your neck.  He lapped at the drops of blood that spilled from the pinprick-like wounds he’d made.  The second his tongue was on you, he took his other hand off your wrists and moved his touch down your body.  He stopped at the hem of your shirt, his fingers biting into the material, almost tearing it like they had torn your skin just moments before.

“Sweet girl, I wanna fuck you until it hurts- fuck you while we’re surrounded by the bodies of our enemies- and then I want to drain you.  I am a monster.  And I want you the way a monster would.  Do you understand?”

Again, you should have been afraid.  You should’ve let him free your wrists, and then you should have run away.  You should have screamed.  

Instead, you moaned.  

You couldn’t help it.  It just sort of slipped out of you- his words, the intensity of his gaze, the sweet sting at your neck- it all poured gasoline on the already raging fire burning inside your core.  Your legs fell apart for him, thighs spreading wide as arousal pooled between them.  Eddie looked a little surprised.

“Did you- did you just fucking moan?”

You grumbled, desperate to hide your face in shame.  Your humiliation doubled when you realized that with Eddie’s heightened senses, he could probably tell that you wanted him.  He could undoubtedly hear the racing of your heart and smell the want between your legs.

“You fucking heard me,” you sighed, looking away in defeat, “But you- you can’t just say shit like that.  You have to know that I want you.”

“You want me?  To what, to kill you?  Because-”

You cut him off, sighing again at your boyfriend’s dramatics, “Oh my god, Eddie, I  want you inside of me.”

He froze for a second, stunned into silence.  You took that as a cue to carry on,  “I want you to fuck me. To claim me.  I want you to use me, to ruin me, whatever, I just want to be yours.”

Eddie remained quiet, though his features had softened slightly.  You turned back to face him, shoving your shame out of your mind.  You sat up in his hold, letting him wrap his arms around your waist as you encircled your still-bound arms around his neck.  His eyes were still wide with shock, but there was an undeniable sense of adoration within them.  In turn, Eddie saw no fear in your gaze- just determination.  And arousal.  

“I want you to take me,” you begged, twisting your fingers in his hair, “Right here, and right now, and if you have to do that ‘like a monster,’ then do it.  I don’t care.  I just want you.”

Another growl ripped itself from Eddie’s throat as he pushed you back to the ground, keeping your arms around him, “Do you understand what you’re getting yourself into?”

You nodded, leaning up and pressing your lips to his in a quick and surprisingly chaste kiss.  He smiled against your skin- a genuine smile, this time.  You’d convinced him.  He sighed, reaching up to gently cup your face.  He traced over your cheek as he spoke, “Use your words for me, sweet girl.”

You turned your head to press a kiss to his palm, “I know.  Do you understand that I don’t care what I’m getting myself into?”

He raised an eyebrow.  You continued, a devious smirk on your face.

“You could do whatever you want to me because I want this.  I want you.  And, hey if you don’t fuck me at this point, maybe I’ll do it myself and make you watch.”

On the last word, you parted your lips and bit Eddie’s hand.  He choked.  A blush covered his face, painting his features pink up to the tips of his ears.  You smiled, satisfaction with your work sinking in as you leaned up to press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek.  His skin was warm, far warmer than the palm he had on your face just moments before.

Eddie shook his head, snapping out of his flustered state.  His eyes darkened as want crept back into his gaze.  He took your arms from around his neck, pressing a kiss to your hands before he pressed them into the ground above your head.  You were pinned.    

“Even now, you’re such a fuckin’ brat,”  Eddie purred, “Y’know, it might be a little tough for you to get yourself off seeing as you’re, y’know, at my mercy, but I’d like to see you try.  I can’t complain about a show like that.”

You gave a defiant wiggle, stretching your hands as much as you could with your wrists still pinned and bound, “I know.  That’s why I-”

A moan swallowed your words as he pressed a kiss to the column of your throat.  The sound heightened in pitch, becoming a cry as his teeth bit into your soft flesh.  Eddie smiled against your neck as he released his hold on your wrists.  His hands moved down your body, his actions slow, fingers weighed down by intent.  His touch lingered by your breasts for a second, giving your tits a harsh squeeze before he reached further.  A sharp gasp left you as you felt his cold digits press against the bare skin beneath the hem of your shirt.   

His grip tightened on the fabric, claws piercing through it before he tore it from you entirely, leaving your upper body exposed to the chill of the barn.  Goosebumps rose on your skin.  Beneath your bra, your nipples pebbled from both the cold and your arousal.  Eddie made short work of that garment, too, not bothering with the clasp.  In less than a second, your bra was in pieces on the floor beside your poor, poor shirt.  

Eddie paused, taking in the sight of your chest.  His hands slipped up and over your waist, stopping just beneath your breasts, “Holy shit,” his voice was rough, gravely- and it had you arching up into his hold, “You’re so fucking beautiful.  So fucking perfect.”

He leaned in, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, nipping at your flesh ever so slightly.  His fangs threatened to pierce your skin, and you knew you wouldn’t mind if they did.  You meant what you said.  Eddie could have his way with you however he liked.  He could cut you, bleed you, break you, and you would let him.  You would lie there for him and just let him take everything he wanted.  (Of course, you knew he wouldn’t.  He loved you far too much to ever cause you real harm.)

You let out a whine, running your hands into Eddie’s hair.  It was a little difficult- your wrists were still bound- but you did your best.  He moaned, lips still against your skin, and you found yourself writhing at the sensation.  Your body begged for more, for him to do more than touch and bite- you wanted to be fucked.

“Eddie, please- please,” the attempt was sweet, but your pleas went ignored.  Eddie pulled his mouth away from your nipple, moving just slightly to mark up the rest of your chest.  You tilted your head back, panting as his hands descended to the hem of your shorts, squeezing and scratching your sides as he went.

“Eds, please-”

“That’s it, good girl,” Eddie purred, teeth still against your chest, “Beg for me.”

You whined, bucking your hips up, trying to get some friction.  Eddie laughed a little as you tried desperately to squeeze your thighs together.  The leg he kept between yours prevented it, and you groaned, tugging on his hair in retaliation.

Eddie moaned, leaning back until you could see his eyes shut in pleasure, “So pretty.  And such a fucking brat-”

He sunk his fangs deep into your chest.  You cried out, digging your nails into his scalp.  You keened weakly as he drank from you.  He didn’t take much- he was already enduring what could be considered a blood overdose- but he did take enough to shut you up, to make you hurt.

When he pulled away, you were a mewling mess beneath him.  Your whines only got louder when he dragged his tongue over the bite wound.  A sharp grin exposed his fangs, now stained with your blood.  He leaned in, kissing you deeply, sliding his tongue passed your lips.  You could taste the copper tang of your life in his mouth.  

He pulled away, breathless, and in seconds he was back on your body, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your arm, biting at your wrist and drawing blood before he moved back to your chest.  He pulled your other nipple between his teeth, nipping and biting, making you whine.  You moved your body against the thigh he kept between your legs, grinding on it.  You were desperate and Eddie knew it.

He kissed down your stomach, biting at your hip as his grip tightened on the fabric of your shorts.  You yelped at the sting of his teeth, the sharp piercing of his fangs in your flesh.  Eddie’s tongue laved over your hip, lapping up the blood that dripped down your side.  He tore your shorts to pieces before the blood could stain them, ripping your panties off with them.

A loud gasp escaped you, and you let out a whine as the cold barn air met with your dripping cunt.  Eddie’s smile was almost shark-like.  Lots of teeth.

“So pretty,” Eddie whispered, “And so wet for me, baby.”

He pressed a kiss to the new bite mark hip before he continued, “Y’know, watching you fuck yourself for me- I’d only last so long before I just took you for myself.”

Two fingers moved up your slit, gathering your arousal before meeting with your clit.  His skin was rough, callused from fighting and from his guitar.  His touch was electric, sending shockwaves through your spine.  You couldn’t hold back your moan, nor could you control your hips as they bucked up into his hand.

“S-so,” you tried to speak as his fingers moved in tight circles over your sensitive nub, “You’d still fuck me, then?”

“I’d clean your fingers off first, but yes.”

“Oh, good.  So either way, I get what I want.”

He paused his ministrations and pulled his fingers away entirely, digging them into your sides.  You made a noise of protest, but Eddie remained still.  For a second, he just stared at you, half squinting.  In the time it took to blink, his teeth were on your chest again.  He didn’t break the skin, but he got so dangerously close to it that you couldn’t help but shiver as want dripped down your thighs.

Eddie’s grip tightened on you, and you wondered what the bruises his ring-clad fingers left on your hips would look like later on.  An especially sharp bite pulled you back to the present.  You mewled, whining as Eddie nipped at the soft skin over your heart.  You could almost feel your blood pumping faster through your veins, sending that same fire through each one of your nerves.

Slowly, though, Eddie’s fangs distanced themselves from you.  It was just his lips on your skin.  The pressure was still bruising to be sure, but something had changed.

“I’ll give you whatever you want.  Whatever,” you could feel Eddie speaking against you, his breath warm on your chest, “Whatever you want, just stay with me.”

A few short moments ago, he’d been begging you to run away from him.  Now, he wanted you to stay.  A quick kiss to your bloodied temple told you why.

‘I will,” you pulled his forehead to yours, locking eyes with him, “I promise I will.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, wrapping your arms around his neck as your nails gently scratched at his scalp.  He melted into your touch before leaning in, pressing his soft lips against yours.  The kiss was so gentle, so different from the harsh bites and scratches he’d delivered so far.  Your body overflowed with want, a broken fountain pouring desire onto the floor.

“You,” you muttered against him, “Are everything I want.”

He looked down at you for a second, eyes wide and wanting.  You leaned up, capturing his lips with yours.  One of his hands came up, cupping your face gently, holding you like you were something precious.  Your lips fit against his perfectly.  The fire inside you was threatening to take down the goddamn barn.  

You paused.  Wrapping a strand of Eddie’s hair around your fingers, you gave a slight tug.  You met his gaze with a small smile, removing your arms from around his neck and bringing them in front of you.

“Also, I would like to be untied, please.”

He laughed and did as you asked, freeing you with a swipe of his claw.  Instantly, your hands were on his face, your fingers running over his cheekbones, sweeping under his eyes.  With your new freedom, you were able to run your hands up and through his hair properly.  Above you, Eddie seemed to purr.

Eddie lowered himself, kissing and biting down your breasts and stomach, leaving bruises as he went.  His movements were the same as before, but there was a new passion to them.  You brushed your fingers over his shoulders, scratching at him slightly.  He gripped onto the soft skin of your inner thighs, threatening to tear into it.  You arched your hips up towards him.  He grabbed them, grip tight and claws digging in.  You cried out quietly as he pushed them back to the ground.  Your back stung slightly, but the pain was quickly put out of your mind.

“Stay put for me, will you, sweetheart?”

You barely had a moment to register his words.  His lips met with your heat, and you cried out at the sensation.  His tongue moved up and down, teasing your entrance before his lips closed around your clit.  You couldn't keep your thighs from closing around his head when you felt the harsh edges of his teeth.  He didn’t seem to mind.  More than that, he moaned against you.  You had to fight to keep still beneath him.

Eddie kissed and bit you, eating you out like a man starved, like an animal that hadn’t been fed in an eternity or longer.  The pleasure he brought you was almost violent in nature.  You let out a string of incomprehensible words, moaning and whimpering as he drank your arousal.  

“You taste so good, baby,” he pressed his lips to your clit, “So sweet.  You’re perfect.”

One of his hands slid back up your body, leaving goosebumps behind.  He stopped between your breasts, strong fingers pressed against your sternum ever so slightly, holding you still.  Over the next few moments, as his teeth and tongue teased you relentlessly, dragging you to the edge at a rapid pace, your hand slipped into his.  His claws bit into your skin.  Your nails bit into his.

“Fuck- fuck, Eddie-”

“Gettin’ close, sweetheart?  Gonna cum for me?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but your words fell to nothing as you cried out his name, shaking as you came for him.  Your voice echoed off the walls, and Eddie didn’t think he’d ever heard a sweeter sound.  He could feel your heart racing under his hand, your pulse racing through your wrist.  The way your fingers squeezed around his- like you wanted him, like you needed him- made him feel weak.  

It took you a minute to come back to earth.  You could barely hear Eddie shrugging off his shirt and jacket over the sound of your own panting.  The metallic clink of his belt buckle meeting the floor as he removed it got your attention.

You propped yourself up on your elbows to watch him.  Your eyes traced up his slender waist, over scarred and tattooed skin.  His wings cast sharp shadows over his body.  He freed his cock from his pants, and you tried to keep yourself from drooling as it sprang up against his stomach.

Eddie had always been gifted.  He had always been big, thick- the sight of him was always enough to make your mouth water.  Even before the Upside Down had so kindly bestowed him with new shit, you thought he was perfect.  But after?  

You weren’t sure why Vecna had decided to give your boyfriend’s cock ridges and a few extra inches, but you weren’t about to look a gift dick in the mouth.  You would never get used to the sight- it would always make you shiver with want, make you drip with need.  Perhaps a rational person would be intimidated by the sheer size of him, by the ridges that now covered his length, but you?  Never.  You didn’t care about anything.  You didn’t fear anything.  You just wanted him.

Your eyes caught his- honey shining in the twilight, warm, wanting, and slightly hesitant.  His pupils were blown out, dark voids drinking in the sight of you.  He wanted to give you a moment to catch your breath.  He wanted to take a second to kiss you and to hold you close.  Eddie wanted to be gentle, but something deep inside him- specifically all the blood he’d drained from you and your attackers- demanded that he get his cock inside you as fast as he fucking could.  

“Baby, are you- are you sure you want this?  I’m not- I’m not gonna be nice.”

“I don’t care, I don’t-” you sat up, grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him down on top of you, “I want you, Eds.  I don’t care about anything else.”

“Okay.  Okay, just- promise me you’ll stop me.  If I hurt you, or if it’s too much, promise you’ll stop me.”

“I will,” you could barely hear yourself over the pounding of your heart, “Whatever you need, I promise.”

He took a deep breath before taking his cock in his hand, stroking it twice.  He lined himself up with your entrance, pressing against you ever so slightly.  He kissed up your jaw, pressing his lips against your ear before he whispered, “I love you.  And I’m sorry.”

In one swift movement, he was inside you, buried to the hilt.  You were wet and ready for him, but the sudden stretch- the sudden ache of his length pressing against your walls was still a lot for your already sore body to take.  Tears sprang to your eyes.  A scream tore itself from your throat before you could block it, mingling in the air with the sound of Eddie’s moans.

You could see the guilt in his eyes, but he didn’t slow his pace.  His thrusts were fast and deep, almost violent in their intensity.  The drag of his cock inside your needy cunt- the feeling of his veins and ridges against your walls- had your eyes rolling back, had you moaning like some mindless slut.  

Eddie wasn’t doing much better.  He quickly lost himself in the feeling of your body writhing under his, squeezing his dick every time moved.  He brushed against a spot inside you that made you see stars.  Your muscles clenched as his cock brushed it over and over again.  Pain and pleasure shot through you, sparking through your veins and making you dig your nails into his back.  He barely felt it.

Eddie took your hips into his hands, his grip bruising, his claws digging in.  You could feel your blood pooling beneath his claws, staining his nails red.  His lips were against your chest again, his teeth biting and scratching your skin.  You barely noticed.  You were too focused on him, on his cock forcing its way deeper and deeper inside, finding places that only he could reach.  

“Still with me, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy, rough around the edges as he tried to catch breath that he didn’t technically need.

“Still with you,” your voice was just as breathless as his, “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.  The sound of his hips slamming into yours cut through the silence of the night.  Your fingers moved over Eddie’s back, scratching white lines into his skin.  Your hands danced over the bones and flesh of his wings, darting over every sensitive spot.  You knew his body well, and in seconds he was melting into you.  Maybe it was a dirty move- you pulling out all of the stops on him- but you were sure he didn’t mind if his moans were anything to go by.  His cock twitched inside your walls, and you moaned at the sensation.  You were weak and wanting, and he was much the same.

“That’s it, baby,” he purred, “That’s my girl.  So fucking good for me, so tight.”

His words slurred together, morphing into a low growl as he fucked into you.  The smell of sex filled the barn, overtaking the stench of blood and decay.  The barn itself seemed to fade further and further from view with every stroke, leaving only Eddie behind.  For the moment, it was just the two of you.  There were no threats to your life, no disgusted old ladies in grocery stores, and no jocks that wanted you dead.  It was just you and the boy you loved.

One of his hands left your hip, moving back downwards to press his fingers against your clit.  You could feel him trying to set a pace while also trying to keep his claws from scratching your delicate skin.  As his fingers traced those familiar tight circles, you spiralled under him, walls clenching down around him as you drowned in the feeling of his skin on yours.

You could faintly hear him whispering filthy things in your ear- descriptions of all the depraved things he would do to you spoken over the deafening roar of your beating heart and the sound of skin on skin.  Between words, his lips pressed kisses to every part of you that he could reach.  Tears rolled down your cheeks as you neared overstimulation.  Eddie kissed them away.

Mindlessly, one of your hands slipped away from his wings and over his side.  Your fingers brushed something wet, a gouge in Eddie’s skin.  The bullet wound.  Immediately he flinched, clenching his jaw tightly to keep from crying out.  You pulled back with near-inhuman speed, but the damage had been done.  In your panic, you didn’t notice Eddie’s pained gasp turning into a laugh.  You didn’t feel his cock pulsing inside you.  As apologies spilled from your mouth, he took your now-bloodied hand in his free one.

“Damn,” he spoke over you, his voice rough and low, “I guess I deserved that, huh?”

You stared up at him, stunned into silence.  Your face burned under his gaze.  Even if you knew how to respond to that, you didn’t get the chance.  Eddie brought your fingers to and past his lips, stealing your breath from your lungs in the process.  His tongue moved around your fingers with a certain grace as he licked the cranberry colour of his blood off of your skin.  The sight of it- of his lips around your fingers, drawing you in- was enough to take you to the edge.  A little added pressure on your clit was enough to send you over, into a white-hot abyss.

You cried out as your walls clenched down around him.  Tears stained your cheeks as your orgasm overtook you.  Eddie pulled back, groaning slightly.  Transparent strings connected his lips to your now damp fingers.  A devilish grin overtook his features, “You liked that, huh?  You came hard for me, sweet thing.”

You let out an embarrassingly loud whine in agreement, your body shaking as it came down from its high.  Eddie let out a groan that matched your volume as he moved his hips against yours at a harsh and unforgiving pace.  

He panted, “I’m- I’m gonna need you to use your words, baby.  Need you to- fuck- need you to tell me.  You can do that for me, right?”

You let out another whimper before you let out a broken confession, “I- I liked that,” he leaned in to kiss you, but you cut him off again, “But you didn’t deserve it.  You don’t deserve to be hurt- unless y’know, it’s kinky.”

Eddie froze for a second.  Your words had caught him off guard.  As he stilled inside you, his smile changed.  Everything about him became less devilish and more genuine.  He broke eye contact.  You could just see a pink flush spread over the pale skin of his neck and cheeks as he buried his face in your shoulder.  When he spoke again, his words were muffled by your flesh against his mouth.

“You’re too good to me.”

His thrusts picked back up again, the same as they were before.  He slowly placed your hand back where he found it, “Far too good.”

A sharp sting spread through your body as his teeth pierced your flesh.  A fresh round of tears pooled in your eyes at the new ache.  Blood dripped down your shoulder and over your chest, painting red lines down your tits.  Ruby-red droplets jumped slightly with each snap of his hips.  You felt him twitch at the sight of it.  His grip tightened, and he made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.

“You’re- fuck,” his voice edged on wicked, desperation seeping in as he reached up to wipe your tears away, “You’re mine.  I’m gonna make sure everyone knows who you belong to.  Gonna make sure they know- make sure no one ever hurts you again.”

“Please, Eds.  I want you- I want you to claim me.  Want you to show them that I’m just your slut-”

Eddie felt a twinge in his chest, guilt taking arousal’s usual place.  Degradation was usually fun to some degree, but he knew what people in this town called you.  He knew what they thought you were and he knew the danger it put you in; and with the events that had led you here, his fear was raw.  Worry burned through his head, turning brain cells into exposed wires.  His lips quickly pressed his lips to yours bringing your pleas to a brief halt.   When he pulled away, he whispered, “You know you’re more than that, right?”

“I know,” you leaned up to kiss him, recognizing the emotion in his eyes, “A thing can be two things.  I’m a person, and I’m yours, body and soul.  Just yours.”

He shut his eyes, chasing down your lips and kissing you breathless.  It was sweet, not gentle, but kind- and you wanted to change that.  You wrapped your teeth over his lower lip and bit down.  You didn’t draw blood.  You weren’t sure that you could, but you sure as hell tried.  Eddie growled, but before he could say anything, you were whispering into him again.

“You’re mine, too.  Remember that.”

The smile that crossed his face was blinding.  Desire consumed him again as his hips moved against yours.  His thrusts came faster, deeper, and impossibly harder.  His eyes clouded over with lust, and you were pretty sure that if you had a mirror, you would see the same thing reflected in your own face.  The want.  The need.  Your body melted beneath Eddie’s as he fucked into you the way he said he would- like a fucking animal.

Your body craved his- you wanted him to keep his word, to take you, claim you, protect you.  You wondered, briefly, what it said about you- that you wanted your partner to commit acts of violence in your name.  You brushed those thoughts away as a familiar tension began to build in your core.

As your edge grew nearer, Eddie could feel his monstrous instincts overtake him.  He knew that his grip on your body was just a bit too firm, that he was leaving dark bruises and deep bite marks all over you.  If he wasn’t careful, he would hurt you, but careful seemed to be the last thing you wanted.  You kept begging him for more, arching your body into his, digging your nails into him.  Soft, depraved pleas escaped your lips, morphing into cries as you came undone beneath him.

Eddie wasn’t sure what happened next.  He blinked, eyes falling shut, and when he opened them, he was using your body with a level of violence he had always tried to keep you from.  

A broken scream ripped its way out of your throat as the head of Eddie’s cock rammed against your cervix with bruising force.  A blinding agony spread through you, crawling through your nerves and making you gasp for air.  You could barely feel Eddie’s claws digging into your sides, barely feel it as he thrust back into you.  Your thighs slammed shut around his hips.  A whimper escaped your lips as your nails scratched down his back, desperately searching for purchase.  

Eddie paused for a split second, looking down at you with wide, panicked eyes.  He didn’t stop.  He couldn’t stop.  He hated himself for it.  You took a deep breath as he kept moving, as he kept thrusting deep within your walls.  You tried to relax, to let the pain fade.  You failed.  You felt the head of his cock hit your cervix a second time, and you bit down on your lip, drawing blood.  Tears streamed down your cheeks as you held back a scream- you couldn’t hold back your pleas for mercy.

“Eddie-” your voice broke, “Eddie, stop.  Please, please, stop- I can’t-”

All pleasure had left your voice, leaving only pain and fear behind.  Again, he didn’t stop.  He wanted to stop- he desperately wanted to stop.  He needed to stop, and he knew that.  He was hurting you, and that killed him, but some shameful part of his blood-drunk mind was excited by your pain.  It wanted to keep going, even if he didn’t.

In a panic-fueled attempt to end your agony, your hands pressed against Eddie’s shoulders, pushing him back.  It was enough to snap him out of it and make him stop- and it made him notice the blood dripping over your lip and down your chin.

The first word to pass his lips was, “No.”

There was a deep, disbelieving horror in his voice, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, what he had done to you.  He reached for you, slowly and cautiously, giving you plenty of time to stop him.  When you didn’t, he wiped the blood off your face with his thumb, cradling your jaw with the rest of his fingers.  

“Shit- shit, shit, shit,” his other hand came up to hover near your face.  Tears filled his eyes.  If you didn’t see it, you would’ve heard it in his voice.  Your boy sounded so broken,  “I’m sorry, baby, fuck, I’m sorry.  I wasn’t careful enough.  I didn’t mean to hurt you-”

“I know, baby.  I know.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, “You know.”

Eddie wrapped his hands around yours and pinned your arms to the concrete above your head.   He kept your fingers intertwined.  As much as he hated himself for it, he didn’t want to let go.  A whimper escaped you, and you watched Eddie’s face as he shut his eyes and hissed.  For a moment, you thought he was hurt.

“Eddie-”

“You know that the man you love is a monster.  You know that every time I touch you, I risk hurting you.  You know I could kill you, the same way I killed those men tonight.  The same way they tried to kill you, I could just-”

His hands squeezed yours.  He wouldn’t look you in the eye.  He looked anywhere else, just not into your eyes.

“Eddie,” your voice was softer, reassuring.

“Sweetheart, when I fuck you, you are being violated by a monster.  If I claim you, it means that you’re owned by a monster.  If we-if I got you pregnant, if you had my kids… they’d be like me. A monster just like their dad.”

He shifted slightly, preparing to pull away from you as he began to sink into that familiar pit of self-loathing. Eddie had barely moved an inch when you latched onto him further, clinging to him, wrapping your legs around his hips to make him stay.  

“You think this is a violation?  Eddie, I asked for this.  Do you not want-?”

“Oh god.  Baby, I want this.  I want you, more than I should, but I hurt you.  I didn’t stop when you needed me to, and that- it terrifies me.  This was a mistake, I never should’ve-”

“I don’t think this was a mistake.  Any of it,” you sat up a bit, just enough to press your forehead against his, “You stopped.  I’m okay.  And, uh… I kind of liked what you were saying.  But-”

“But?”

“You really think our kids would be monsters?” you asked, “With you as their father?  No way.  Menaces, maybe, but not monsters.”

He said nothing, but a small smile crossed his face.  He didn’t pull any further away.  He just stared at you with those sweet doe eyes of his, so warm, so enamoured with you, and still so full of guilt.   

It wasn’t a surprise that his mind had gone to such a place- he had killed a bunch of people moments before, fucked you on top of their bodies, and now, he had hurt you.  It was an accident, you both knew that, but the guilt would eat him alive if he let it.  You weren’t willing to let that happen.  You hadn’t let those dark thoughts get to him in the past, and you sure as shit weren’t going to start now.

“Eddie.  Everything you did tonight, you did to save me.  Everything you do is to protect the people you love and care about.  Tonight, two years ago, and even further back. You love with everything you have.  You- are so brave, and so deeply kind, even if you pretend not to be, and if that makes you a monster, then I hope our children are monsters, too.  And I hope they have your eyes.”

He remained still for a moment.  His expression betrayed both his shock at your statement and his want.  In the next second, his lips were on yours.  He let go of your wrists, bringing his hands back to your face.  

“I love you,” he whispered into the kiss, “I love you, I love you.”

You leaned up and into him, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, “I love you too.  So much.  And I want you to remember, I also killed a man tonight.  If you’re a monster, then…”

He let out a quiet laugh, lips moving down your neck, feathering kisses over your skin all the way to your collarbone, “We’re monsters together, then.”

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer, “Exactly,” you purred.  You paused for a second, becoming violently aware of the weight of his cock inside of you.  You taped your fingers against his spine before you thrust your hips down against his, “You can, uh… you can start again now.  I think I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

You leaned closer, whispering against his lips, “I am.”

He pressed his lips to yours, tongue slipping between your lips as he began to thrust into you again.  His pace was quick, but not painful, and not quite so unforgiving.  Your fingers reached up to wrap around the messy strands of his hair, tugging gently.  He moaned into the kiss, sounding hungry and desperate once again.

As you drew nearer to your edge, your thoughts began to race.  His words spilled through your mind, drowning your psyche with every sentiment he’d put forward.  He loves you deeply.  He’s terrified of hurting you.  He’s desperate to keep you safe.  You mean something to him.  He’s thought about having kids with you, and you wanted him to think about that- fuck.

Your walls tightened around him.  His cock twitched inside of you as he neared his own edge.  

You whimpered out Eddie’s name, tugging on his hair until he pulled away from you.  His brows furrowed in concern as he took in the sight of you, but you didn’t look like you were in pain.  Your eyes were wide, filled with lust, and your chest heaved with every breath you took.  You were covered in blood and sweat, and you were the most beautiful thing Eddie had ever seen.  He felt your hands move to his face, and his gaze focused on your lips as you spoke.

“Eddie,” your voice was soft, “I need you to cum inside me.”

You watched as his eyes widened, as his lips parted in shock and a faint blush covered his cheeks.  You were kind of proud that even in a moment this intimate, you could still get him to flush like that.

“You- you want me to-?”

You nodded, cutting him off and pulling him closer, “I want you to fill me up.  Breed me, please.”

He shivered, a current of electricity running through him at your words.  His body and his instincts screamed at him to do exactly as you’d said.  

“You,” he whispered, “You’re perfect.”

His mouth slipped downwards, lips pressing against the space between your throat and your shoulder.  His teeth sunk into your shoulder.  Pain spread through your skin, white-hot as your blood dripped over your chest.  Your muscles spasmed around him as the coil snapped.  Your grip tightened on his hair.  You could faintly hear him cry out in your own haze.  His claws dug into you as he fell over that all-consuming edge.

Eddie bit down harder on your throat as he came, drinking just enough from you to make you see stars.  His cock throbbed against your walls as his seed spread inside you, thick, and hot, and perfect.  You clung to him, your breath stuttering as your muscles clenched, milking him for more.  

As he finished, the monstrous need to fuck and breed you faded away to nothing.  He was left with the more human parts of him after that- the parts of him that knew what aftercare was and that you would need it, the parts of him that knew he had to get you somewhere safe, somewhere away from the bodies of your attackers.  Your body was limp beneath Eddie’s.  Your eyes were closed, and your lips slightly parted.  You were fucked out, completely cock drunk, and utterly perfect.

Eddie brushed your hair off your face.  You could hear him repeating your name softly as you came back to earth.  When you opened your eyes, he was hovering above you, looking at you with more affection than you could put into words.

“Hi,” he said, voice low and slightly shaky.

“Hi,” you let one of your hands move up to his face, brushing your fingers over his cheek.

“You okay, pretty girl?”

“‘M more than okay.”

He smiled, taking your hand from his cheek and pressing his lips to it, “Thank god, I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t.”

“You’d probably lose your mind.”

“Oh, I’d definitely lose my mind.”

You finally caught your breath as he kissed each of your knuckles and your wrist before he brushed his lips down your arm and to your shoulder.  He let his cheek rest against your chest, listening to your heartbeat as it finally slowed down to something resembling normal.

Once it had, he lifted his head back up to look you in the eye, “We should probably get out of here, though.  Get you home.”

“God, I would like that so much.”

He pulled himself up until he was kneeling, fixing his pants and passing his shirt to you.  You pulled it over your head, watching as he got to his feet.  He held out his hands to you and you took them, letting him help you to stand.  You shook slightly, weak in the knees from both the attack and from everything Eddie had done to you.  You buried your face in his chest as his cum dripped down from your abused cunt onto your thigh.

“Ah,” you hissed, “I have no pants.”

Eddie left a hand on your arm, supporting you as he stooped down to collect your torn clothes, “I guess there’s no saving these?”

You shook your head, smiling slightly as he winced.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it baby,” you leaned up and kissed his cheek, “It was more than worth it.”

His grin showed you his teeth.  He picked up his jacket off the ground and wrapped it around your shoulders.  You still had no pants, but it would be enough for now.  You pressed a kiss to his bare collarbone as thanks.  He tilted your chin up with two fingers and kissed you properly.

“Come on,” he whispered, “Let’s go home.”

You pulled away from him for a second, looking around at the abandoned barn.  It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie.  Blood covered the floor and stained the walls.  Seven bodies laid out on the concrete, mutilated in various ways.  You felt Eddie’s fingers on your jaw, gently bringing your gaze back to him.

His eyes were wide- something in them was almost scared.  He didn’t want you to fear him- to hate him.  He didn’t want you to think that he was a monster, but the bodies in the room only led to one conclusion- and you didn’t mind it.  Monster or otherwise, Eddie was yours.  

“Yeah,” you brushed your lips against his, “Let’s go home.”

A grin crossed his face, and the fear faded from his eyes as he bent down and scooped you up, pulling you into his arms.  Maybe two years ago, when he was still human, he wouldn’t have been able to carry you home, but his vampiric strength was at present, a gift.

You let your head rest against his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he stepped through the blood, out of the barn, and into the night.

-

You fell asleep on the way home.  You shut your eyes outside the barn, with the moon shining above you like a pearl in an inky black ocean, and opened them in the safety of the home you shared with Eddie- Hopper’s old cabin.

It had been in a bit of a state when Hopper had given it to you, but it was more than worth the hours you’d spent fixing it.  It was a safe place for Eddie to stay- secret, isolated.  It was the only place you could stay without the fear of capture and torture hanging over your heads.

At least, it had been.  But that fear had come too close, breaking down your door and ripping its way into your life.  You had been saved this time, but the experience followed you home.  You weren’t sure what would come next.

You turned your focus away from the nebulous future and towards the present.  Beneath you, your couch was soft.  The living room was warmly lit by a lamp on the end side table next to you.  You couldn’t see Eddie, but you could hear the sound of the tap running in the bathroom.  From your spot, you could see grocery bags neatly folded on your kitchen table.  With them sat a bottle of cranberry juice.  You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh or cry at the sight of it.

You sat up and immediately, you had regrets.  Every inch of your body ached.  Your face stung from the blows you’d taken, and the space between your legs burned and throbbed.  The bite marks that marred your skin stung, and you somehow managed to hit every bruise you had in the small act of sitting up.

Despite that pain, you forced yourself to try and stand.  You failed miserably.  Your knees buckled beneath you, and before you could do anything to maintain your balance, you were back on the couch.  The door to the bathroom swung open, and Eddie burst out with a wet cloth in hand.

“Shit!  You’re up, hi!”

You couldn’t help but smile at him as he sped towards the couch.  He was still shirtless, wearing the same pants he’d worn while saving you.  His missing shirt still covered your body and your legs were still bare.  His jacket was thrown over the back of the couch beside you.

“Hi,” you reached out for him as he got to the couch.  He took your hand in his, kissing it before he placed another kiss on your lips.

“Hey, hi,” he pulled back from you, giving your hand a squeeze, “Sorry, pretty thing, I was just- I was trying to get you cleaned up.”

“Oh!  Well,” you reached for the hem of your shirt, “That should be a little easier now that I’m up, right?”

He flushed as you pulled your shirt over your head.  It didn’t seem to matter that his cock had been inside you maybe an hour earlier, he still went red at the sight of your boobs.  You smirked at him, reaching out and running a hand through his hair.

“You are far too cute, Eddie Munson.”

“And you,” he pushed you back onto the couch, throwing himself down next to you and pulling your legs over his lap, “Are far too beautiful, sweetheart.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your knee.

“So, do you uh- are you okay with this?” he raised the wet washcloth in his hand, “Or do you wanna shower, or?”

“Well, I would get up, but when I tried I fell, so,” you grimaced.

“I could help you,” he gave your leg a squeeze, “Could hold you, up if you want.”

You sat up, pressing kisses to his jaw, “I would like that.”

With a smile, he wrapped your arms around his neck and picked you back up.  The trip to the bathroom was a short one.  It took even less time for Eddie to remove his clothes and get both of you into the shower.

You kept your arms around him, leaning into his chest as warm water flowed over your back.  You could feel your muscles begin to relax, knots unravelling the longer you stood there.  Slowly, he started to move.  His touch was heartbreakingly gentle as he cleaned every bite mark and every bruise.  

In turn, you washed the sweat and blood that came with the fight off of him.  Your fingers grazed his side, and you were pleased to find that the gunshot wound he’d taken had almost healed completely.  Your hand remained there for a second, your touch feather-light and shaking slightly.  You didn’t want to hurt him.

“Hey,” you whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He laughed a little, though the sound was void of joy, “Yeah?  I’m glad that you’re alive.”

Eddie pressed a kiss to your shoulder before asking you to hang onto him.  Your hands clutched onto him as he knelt before you, washing off your thighs.  You took a deep breath as his hands neared your cunt.  He looked up at you with wide eyes, a question held within them.

He quickly put it into words, “You down for round two?”

You grinned as he pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh, “Yes, please.”

His mouth was on you in an instant.  He hooked your knees over his shoulders, pressing you up against the shower wall, keeping you steady with his hands.  You tilted your head back at the feeling of his tongue lapping at your arousal.  You found yourself biting down on your bottom lip as his lips wrapped around your clit.  Your hands moved over your chest, pinching lightly at your nipples.  In minutes, you were coming undone against him.  Both of you were breathless as he pulled himself away from you.

When he kissed you, you could taste yourself on his lips.  You wondered if he could taste himself in you.  He cradled your face in his hands

“How’re you feeling?”

“Stupid good,” you murmured, brushing strands of Eddie’s dripping hair out of his eyes.

“That’s what I wanna hear,” he pulled you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist as he kissed you a thousand more times.  You let out a content hum, smiling into him as you lost yourself in him.

As the two of you climbed out of the shower, you caught sight of your body in the mirror.  You couldn’t tear your eyes away from the reflection of your bruised and battered body.  Bitemarks littered your skin.  Splotches of red and purple covered your skin. 

You felt heat build within you at the sight of everything Eddie had done- and you felt your stomach twist at the sight of the things he hadn’t.  The marks he hadn’t left would leave scars on your mind.  You hoped they wouldn’t stain your body longer than they had to.

Eddie noticed your gaze, your eyes riveted to the mirror.  He stood from where he’d been drying off your legs and moved to stand behind you.  He took your arms in his hands, running them down until your fingers intertwined with his over your stomach.  He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, just under the bloodied spot where Kurt’s gun had struck you so much earlier.  

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, gently rocking you from side to side.

“Hey, don’t apologize.  You aren’t the one who kidnapped me at gunpoint and threatened to break my bones by way of gun,” you shook your head at the ridiculous nature of your captors’ plans, but Eddie had a different reaction.

He buried his face in your shoulder, letting out a whine, “Jesus Christ.”

His hands started to shake against your skin.  His breath sped up as his arms tightened around you.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart.  That never should’ve happened, they never should’ve gotten to you.”

“Hey,” you broke eye contact with your reflection in the mirror and turned around in Eddie’s hold, “There was nothing you could have done.  If you had been with me, they would have tried to hurt you.  Maybe they would’ve succeeded.  And we needed groceries, so-”

“Then I should’ve sent Steve with you.  Or Nancy, just someone-”

“I had Max.  She’s arguably scarier than Steve and- oh shit, Max,” you pushed away from Eddie, stumbling as you took a step back, “Max, is she okay!?  Did someone get her?”

Eddie kept your forearms in his hands, helping to keep you steady, “Deep breaths, sweetheart, deep breaths.  Max is alright.  As soon as she called me I had Steve go and get her, ironically enough.”

“Oh, thank fuck,” you let out a tired breath as you collapsed against Eddie’s chest, “I guess we have them to thank for the grocery bags on the table?”

Eddie pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “That we do.”

“God, I’m gonna have to call them.  To say thank you.  And sorry, my God,” you rubbed at your eyes with one hand, “I can’t believe I put Max through that, holy shit.”

“Hey, hey, you didn’t put Max through anything.  You got her out of there.  That was the best thing you could do, you kept her safe.  Besides,” he moved back to look you in the eye, “Red’s a tough kid.  She’s dealt with worse than this.”

“I know,” your voice was half a groan, “I still feel bad, though.”

“Well, yeah,” Eddie gently grabbed a hold of you, turning you around to face yourself in the mirror.  His hands slipped back into yours, and he brought them back to the expanse of your stomach, “You’ve had, what some would call, a long day, sweetheart.”

You leaned into him, letting out a soft whine when he pressed his lips to your shoulder.  You squeezed his hands, “Yeah, you could say that.”

Eddie squeezed back, “Let’s get you to bed, huh?”

“Fuck.  Yes, please.”

He picked you up again, pulling you into his arms and letting your head rest against his chest.  You felt a bit ridiculous having him carry you around your small home, but it wasn’t like you had much of a choice.  Your legs were tired, too weak to carry you.  Fortunately, Eddie was more than strong enough.

He laid you on the bed gently, planting a kiss over your new bitemarks before he crawled into bed with you.  He started at your side, but within minutes, he was on top of you, his head resting between your breasts.  He took your hands in his, intertwining your fingers before kissing them gently.

The two of you lay in silence for a few moments.  You ran a hand through his still-damp hair, listening to the sound of your breathing and his.  For perhaps the first time today, you were both breathing evenly, completely calm.  

On top of you, Eddie was listening to the sound of your heartbeat, sure and steady beneath him.  He had spent so much of the day afraid that he would never hear that sound again.  He had been terrified that he was going to lose you- that the town that had taken so much from him would take you, too.

But it hadn’t.  It had tried, the jocks had tried, but he had stopped them.  You were safe now.  Safe, and protected, and Eddie seriously didn’t plan on letting you out of his sight for a few days.

“Hey,” you whispered, “How did you- how did you know where I was?  Max saw me get kidnapped, but she didn’t know where they took me after.”

His fingers brushed over your temple, “I could smell your blood.  Almost killed me when I noticed it.  The stronger it got… the more I wanted to end them.”

You leaned into his touch, placing your hand over his.

“I wouldn’t take back what I did,” he continued, “I don’t regret it.  I could never regret it.  But I’m- I’m afraid that all I am is a weapon.  That all I’ll ever be is a weapon.  The things Vecna made me do…” he faded off into silence, pulling away and rubbing his hands over his eyes.

You sat up with him, reaching out to trace his strong, scarred arms.  You could do nothing but watch as a war raged inside the man you loved.  Guilt slipped beneath your skin, thrumming beneath muscle and bone.  Eddie had protected you- he killed for you without remorse, and you were excited by that violence.  You wondered again what that said about you.

Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead to Eddie’s.  He relaxed against you, calmed by your touch.

“Hey, you know you’re more than that, right?”  You echoed his words from earlier, “You’re not a weapon, you’re not his puppet, you’re-”

“I’m your man,” he said, a small grin crossing his face, “Your protector.  Your slut.”

You giggled, shocked and pleased, and Eddie looked so proud to be the cause of the smile on your face.  When his laughter subsided, you crawled into his hold, straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands moved to your waist.  You sat there for a moment, taking in his lack of a heartbeat as he listened to the steady rhythm of yours.

“You know this goes both ways, right?” You whispered, running your fingers over the spot where his wings met his back, “You protect me, I protect you?  And we protect… whatever comes along.  I might not have the claws or the fangs, but I’ve been told I can be a bit of a bitch when I want to be, so there’s that.”

Eddie pulled you closer to him, pinning your chest to his and holding you there as he laid back on the mattress.  One of his hands brushed through your hair while the other traced intricate patterns over your back.  You shut your eyes and let yourself bury your face in the space between his neck and his shoulder.

“I know,” he tilted his face to press a kiss to your head, “I couldn’t have asked for a better bodyguard.”

You smiled against his throat, “Neither could I.”

You hummed contentedly as he pulled a blanket over your bodies.  The mindless motions of his calloused hands on your back pulled the tension from your muscles, making you relax.  Your eyelids grew heavy as you breathed him in- the faint scents of blood and cigarette smoke overtaken by the smell of your body wash.  You were so calm, unafraid, and bizarrely happy for a woman who had spent most of her day trying not to die at the hands of her kidnappers.  

Maybe having sex on the corpses of your enemies was just a natural mood booster.  Maybe it was the man you were having sex with.

“You make me feel safe,” you murmured, words slurred with sleep, “Always have.”

“Good,” his voice was quiet, but he sounded like he was wide awake.  You focused on the feeling of his hand running through your hair, of his skin, ice cold beneath your lips.

“Keep doing it?”

“I always will, sweetheart.  I won’t let anything hurt you.  I won’t lose you.”

“Promise?”

He nodded, and you smiled against his neck, “Good.  Protect me.”

Without waiting for a response, you pulled his skin between your teeth and bit down; hard enough to bruise, but not hard enough to draw the sweet cranberry-coloured wine that ran through his veins.  His soft moan was music to your ears.  With your lips on his throat, and his hands in your hair, you fell into a dreamless sleep.  Eddie stayed awake through the night, keeping watch over you until the sun began to rise. 

[wosoragebaiter69]

death is a funny thing

alexia putellas x fem!reader

prompt: alexia angst on 10/10 out of angst scale - for madres bday

A/N: happy birthday madre @greynatomy ! 🥳🥳 you are now stuck at the restaurant

i cried while making this. i dont cry while writing or reading fanfic.

TW: Death, hurt/no comfort, the thought of me not making a part 2 for this

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

2 weeks. That's what the doctor said. 2 weeks until you're dead and you soul is gone from the earth. How does one hold that infomation? How are they supposed to take it? It's not like anyone's alive to really tell you how to cope or react.

So, you sit in silence. Being taken back to the memories of playing football as a child, being in your national team for the first time. Playing for your senior team for the first time. That first kiss with Alexia which was unlike any you'd had before. The first time you'd told her you loved her, and how she immediately said it back.

All of it would come to an end.

You knew you should've been here weeks ago when you first started feeling off, but you weren't one to go a doctor when something felt bad. Just hoped it would go away unless you knew it was an injury that'd affect your career. The only reason you were in the room was because Alexia dragged you there.

What would have happened if she hadn't?

You stare at the wall in front of you, mind without thoughts. Just the shell of someone who used to be there. You feel bad for Alexia, how would she cope? You knew she had plans of proposing, you just didn't know when. That will all be a dream in only a fortnight.

How much will change by then? Will she push you out like she does with most others? Or will she hold you close, thinking that if she did you wouldn't leave her when you both know that won't happen.

When you do look at her, there's tears streaming down her face. Staining her shirt and falling onto the floor. The doctor leads you both out giving a form of all legal action needed before you die. Who to give your money to, how you want to be buried or cremated.

You wonder how they can say such news then proceed to hand papers while being devoid of any emotion. Maybe they've done it too many times to really feel.

- - - - -

Alexia drives home, eyes still leaking with tears. You're not quite sure how she's driving but you both make it home. You watch her mundane and robotic movements, until she's in the living room. That's her breaking point.

You immediately go to her, wrapping your arms around her without saying a word. This makes her sob harder.

"I can't live without you. Please no." Is all you hear over the sound of her breaking down.

"Alexia." You say, but she shakes her head.

"Alexia look at me." Again, it's no use.

"Ale please." She finally listens, looking up shaking as her lip wobbles.

"When I am gone, you will be sad yes but I trust you'll get over me. I trust you will be even better than you are now. You are the greatest woman I've ever met and you are the strongest. I will be with you here until the end and even when I'm not here physically..." You pause and touch her heart with your hand. "I'll always be with you here, remember that. And if heaven or the afterlife is real, I'll watch over you. I promise." You whisper resting your forehead against her own.

She whails into the evening, you cry along with her. Reality and the fear of death finally sinking deep into your bones. You will die. You can't be here forever.

- - - - -

The next day when training is supposed to be on is when you tell everyone at the club, sadness lingers in the air as you hug your friends. The ones who had become a new family for you. The young players like Salma and Vicky whom you'd baiscally 'adopted' when they joined the senior team. You consoled them along with Caroline (your best friend) the most. Those apart from Alexia being the ones you were always with.

It was decided a farewell dinner would be hosted. The last memories and last time to be with you.

- - - - -

Alexia wouldn't leave your side, you didn't want to leave hers either. The weight she'd carry on herself after this is too much for your own failing heart. You wanted to be with her for the rest of your life, and by that you meant grow old. Not die at 27.

The dinner was as much as anyone would expect it to be. Teary eyes and frowns painted on everyones face. The mourning had started before you left, and somehow that was even more painful.

Your will was mainly going to the football club, with no family left to give it to. Part of it went to investment in womens sports and some went to Alexia. You'd asked to be cremated, 1/3 of your ashes in the new Camp Nou, 1/3 of your ashes to be washed away by the heavy winds at the beach you loved so much, and a third to be with Alexia to do as she pleases. Whether to keep or give to people you held so close.

The end is near, it's relieving in a sense. That all this anxiety toward the date will just go. Everything for you will stop. But, you hate being the reason people are upset. All you'll leave is pain and anguish until one by one your friends heal. Alexia heals.

- - - - -

Today was the day, you're not sure how you know but you do. You wait with Alexia, remembering all good times. No words are said, she's trying to remember every detail in your face. Fearing the she'll forget you.

"Alexia." She takes a deep breath, nodding at you to continue.

"I love you, I love you in everyway possible. I love you in every universe. I love you to the moon and saturn. Never forget me, as I'll never forget you." You whisper, breath shaky as you feel yourself drifting away.

"I could never, forget you amor. You're safer wherever you are next. I love you. More than words could ever convey." Her voice breaks.

You don't want to leave her, why did it have to be like this?

She places her lips against yours one last time. Your eyes close, one last time.

—————————————————————————

well... no part 2. reader will not come back from the dead like melanie martinez

but last night i dreamt i kissed taylor swift so theres that

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#1: The Hand (1.01)

The level of excitement, anxiety, joy, and anticipation I felt just before pressing play on the TOWL premiere was so high. My Richonne was finally coming back. 🥹 And man did they just snatch my heart for an entire hour with their return. I already knew seeing them again would be euphoric, but it was even more than I could have guessed. And the TOWL premiere dives right in with a very emotional, wild, and impactful first few minutes...

When deciding on a deadline for having these RIR: Towl Edition posts ready, I figured today, July 22, would be a great kickoff day since it's the anniversary of when The Ones Who Live was first announced at SDCC. 👌🏽😊

I remember where I was the day I first saw the TOWL announcement in 2022. I was in the middle of moving to a new place and saw an article pop up on my phone with a picture of Andy and Danai hand in hand at Comic-Con. I was just happy to see them.

And then I looked down at the article’s headline and saw they were there to announce that there would be a Rick and Michonne miniseries. 🤩 I was already overjoyed by that, but then, my joy just skyrocketed even more when I saw that they were coming back specifically for a miniseries focused on Rick and Michonne’s “epic love story” with Andy, Danai, and Scott as co-creators and executive producers. 😍

I knew we were about to have an absolute feast with this show our captains cooked up - and feast we most certainly did. This 6 episode miniseries is a six-course meal. 🍽

And I think TOWL is excellent on its own and has a lot of widespread appeal but when I’ve seen people say The Ones Who Live felt like it was particularly for the Richonne fans, there’s also a very clear explanation for that: the show was made by three Richonne fans. Scott, Andy, and Danai…they’re us. 😋

And I am so grateful to them for the beautiful gift that is The Ones Who Live. 😌

So this first post is a bit longer because I gotta come out the gate extra and even offer up some thoughts on the TWD clips that they included just before the premiere starts. I really liked how it sets up TOWL and highlights the power of Richonne’s relationship. 

They start by showing the iconic pilot shot of Rick on his horse riding along the barren side of a freeway as we hear his voice say, “We tell ourselves we are the walking dead.”

And then they include the iconic shot of Michonne’s TWD entrance from season 2.

They then show a clip from season 6, just a few episodes before Richonne would be canon. In the clip, Michonne is on the patio with Rick (and his elevator eyes) as she helps him see, “We’re in here together.”

I love this because in reminding Rick that they’re alive and breathing right here and now and have the room to make ASZ home it shows how Michonne was the one who helped change Rick’s motto from “We’re the walking dead” to “We’re the ones who live.” It’s one of the many ways she changed his life. 😌

They show some Say Yes moments, and you know I love that Richonne episode down. Seeing them use clips from the beloved 7.12, I remember just marveling over how years ago we were so excited just to get a single episode focused on Richonne and now we were gearing up to watch a whole miniseries dedicated to them. 🥰 Never getting over that blessing.

Rick says, “We’re gonna lose people, maybe even each other” as the clip ushers in its first gut punch of the hour by showing Rick and Michonne at their son Carl’s side after he reveals he’s been bit. 🥺

They also show Rick telling Michonne “You can lose me” in the Say Yes van and her saying “No.” We’ll talk about it more in a later post, but just as many of us suspected - Richonne cannot in fact lose each other and live on the same. While losing each other is and was physically possible, in every other way losing each other made them lose the most crucial parts of themselves.

Then they show Rick in his final TWD ep, preparing to blow up the bridge as his voiceover tells Michonne “If it’s me who doesn’t make it, you’re gonna have to lead the others forward because you’re the one who can.”

We see Michonne scream his name as Rick blows up the bridge and then they show our sweet older Judith as Rick says “Making a future for Judith, it’ll be worth it.” And I always love that 9.05 shot of Judith because of how it incorporates Rick, Carl, and Michonne with the holster, hat, and sword on her back. She along with RJ is an embodiment of their legacy and the future Richonne believed in.

Then they show Michonne slaying a walker as she says “We can make it. I’m not giving up.” And it just all really hammers home the resilience of Richonne and their love and partnership. They’ve been through so much, built so much, and lost so much, but they still stand because of each other and the family they created. 

After they give us some CRM insight with clips of Jadis (😒), they show scenes of Michonne and Judith’s last conversation where they both decide Michonne will go and look for The Brave Man. I’m glad they included that because some viewers really tend to forget that Judith urged her mom to go look for her dad and Michonne left not as an act of abandonment, but as the ultimate act of love for her family.

The TWD clips ends with Michonne saying “Okay baby girl I’m gonna try” and Judith saying “Go get him.” I love that even with everyone else thinking they were crazy, Michonne and Judith never stopped believing Rick was out there. (And RJ was believing too. 🥹 But I'm getting way ahead of myself lol)

And then --- the show we’ve all been waiting for begins and the TOWL premiere has a devastatingly poignant teaser. 🥺

I like how The Ones Who Live's opener connects to the last of the TWD clips because Michonne tells her baby girl she’s gonna try and then we hear Rick’s voice start the show by saying, “I tried. Please know I tried.”

It moves me how much Rick and Michonne have been trying for each other while apart. And it’s crushing to hear Rick say 'tried' in the past tense as he now debates no longer trying anymore since he's learned he can’t be with his family again or else risk putting them in harm's way.

After years of waiting to finally see what Rick has been up to all this time, they immediately let us know it has been an excruciatingly painful existence for him without his family. 😢

gif cred: @perryabbott

I like how the shot opens with Rick facing away from the camera as he stares out the window at a cold industrial view. Rick facing away from us almost gives this sense that we know him but we also don’t fully know him anymore. He’s been through a lot we haven’t seen.

The vintage TV delivers news of a massive attack in the background and similar to the destruction on the television, Rick also feels destroyed by the CRM and at his lowest here. 

gif cred: @nerd4music

Then I love how before we even see Rick's face, we see him holding one of his phone sketches of Michonne. This show did a great job of immediately setting up the way Richonne’s love would be at the center of every scene in this story.

This shot of Michonne on the phone let you know instantly that the love between Richonne is still so alive and important to Rick and the miniseries. It’s also painful because it’s like Rick is finally accepting that those little drawings really could be the last he ever gets to “see” her after fighting so hard to believe he would see her again for real one day. 

And it’s very symbolic to have him look at Michonne on the phone and then see his own reflection in it. They’re one. It’s also significant that the first we see of Rick’s face is through a reflection. Again he’s him, but he’s not fully him rn. Just a reflection. And the part of him he misses most is his other half - Michonne. 

gif cred: @richonne4life

One of the tragic aspects of these two soulmates being separated for so long is that Rick and Michonne were not the type of couple who needed absence to make the heart grow fonder. Like they didn’t need to lose each other to realize how special their love was. When they were together they were fully aware of the gift their relationship was in their lives and they treasured their love deeply and out loud.

So being apart has only heightened what Rick and Michonne already knew full well which is that they are the love of each other's lives. They’re everything to each other. They knew it back then. And they know it still now, even after being away from each other longer than they’ve been together. 

It’s such a big deal for Rick to look at this phone in this moment as he contemplates ending it. I noticed that anytime Rick thinks he’s about to die, he thinks of Michonne. It's as though he’s eager for his last moment of life and his last thought to be of her so that he can end on some semblance of a positive note.

When he’s on the bridge in TWD 9.05, Michonne is his last hallucination. When he later chops off his hand and fades out of consciousness he dreams of her. And here when he contemplates dying by his own hand, he looks at this image of her just before. It makes me think of that TikTok that went viral about a man saying his last breath will be his wife’s name. That is definitely Rick’s mindset and I love that Richonne’s love runs that deep. 

Rick looks out with tears in his eyes - just sadness personified - and then he stares at the shard of glass in his hand, contemplative, before putting the glass to his neck. The acting Andy does in this moment is incredibly powerful and painful. I know award shows disappointingly tend to completely sleep on the performances from the TWD cast but truly to me he secured every award nomination just within his first few seconds of being on screen.

There’s something so viscerally vulnerable about this moment as Rick stares at the glass really wondering if after everything he’s been through and overcome, it’s really come to this - meeting his demise by his own hand with a little piece of glass.

Plus with how resilient Rick is, it’s like we see this massive internal fight to go against everything in him that’s a survivor and actively choose to stop surviving once and for all.

My heart just instantly broke from this teaser because while yes we know Rick won’t go through with it, to know that he was even in the headspace of this makes me hurt for him deeply. To think he was ready to potentially just go out, alone, depressed, never seeing his family again and them never knowing he was out there, feeling like a failure. It’s extremely dark.

gif cred: @vidco

Throughout his time on TWD, Rick’s journey has been as much a mental battle as it has been an external battle and as we saw in the TWD pilot, Rick is extremely perseverant but without his family, he is not opposed to just ending it.

And now, he's tried so hard for so many years to get back to Michonne and Judith, he stayed alive off the memory of family and the hope of being with family again - But once he realized it was no longer an option unless he risked putting the ones he loves in immense danger, that was it for him. In this moment he no longer sees the point in living if he has to live without his wife and daughter. 🥺

I found it powerfully poignant to have a show called The Ones Who Live begin by having Rick about to take his life. It shows that for Rick, there’s an asterisk on that motto because he feels he’s only 'the one who lives' if he gets to live with Michonne. It’s either ‘the ones who live together’ or nothing at all for Rick. 

So he nearly goes through with this attempt. Even draws some blood on his neck...but then he stops. Thank goodness. 🙏🏽 He sucks his teeth and sighs as he stares at the shard of glass looking defeated but also resolved that he can’t go through with it. Not like this.

Through this teaser, we instantly get his state of mind. He can’t end it all but he’s been in so much pain that it feels like the only way through is to die. It’s utterly tragic. 🥺

And I truly feel like part of why Rick couldn’t go through with it is because he and Michonne genuinely are one. So his life is not just his to take.

So long as Michonne is still out there and her heart is still beating then his heart still has to beat too, even if he has to die in other ways to somehow go on without her. We’ll also learn more about why he doesn’t go through with it in his heartbreakingly romantic last letter to Michonne, but we’ll get there. 👌🏽

So then we see the back of Rick again as he ends the night accepting his dreary fate to live but truly as the walking dead from now on. And I really like how the show explores the dark and damaging side of having to tell yourself you’re the walking dead. As well as the dark side of being 'the one who lives' even when everything in you wants to quit living because now you have to live without those you love.

When Rick gave the speech about his grandpa and them being the Walking Dead in TWD 5.10, Daryl responded saying, “We ain’t them.” Rick agreed with that because so long as you have family you aren’t the Walking Dead.

But that’s the thing - Rick hasn’t had his family for years and so he really did have to become the Walking Dead. But as he’ll say at the end of the series (jumping way ahead again, I know lol) he thought he was alone, but he wasn’t. His kids and wife especially were still believing in him and still loving him out there.

I like to think that just like Michonne could feel Rick out there with all the love he was emitting from afar toward her, Rick too could feel all the love she was emitting to him and it kept him here a bit longer. And thank goodness for that because my beloved Rick Grimes' story deserves a bright positive ending, not one this dark and depressing, after everything he's been through. 

As the teaser ends and Rick stares into the CRM void, I like the score. The music almost feels like a menacing weighed-down heartbeat which is fitting.

And then there's the beautiful title sequence, which I adore the music and every Richonne image during the theme song. I like how it starts with Rick and Michonne in each other's arms from season 8, letting you know that while the teaser was very dark, there is light coming and that light is called Richonne.

(Also, I really wanted Rick to see Michonne in her corset armor during the show but since he didn’t, I’m glad there’s at least a gorgeous image of the two of them together during the theme song that includes her in the armor.)

I also liked the way the first ep just shows Rick under the title since it’s a Rick-centric episode and then the second episode has just Michonne under the title for the Michonne-centric episode. All and all, this whole opener was a very impactful way to kick off the show and set the tone for what Rick has been through and become in the years he's been away.

All the chatter from certain parts of the audience who thought Rick would move on and even have a new family in the Civic Republic was immediately dispelled because those speculations were always a ridiculous misunderstanding of the character. He found his everything in Michonne so of course he’s still as in love with her now as he was the day we last saw them together in season 9. Just like Michonne still stayed in love with him.

I love that they both refused to move on from each other and operated as in love as ever. And because they held onto that love, even when it felt like all was lost, that love was able to return to them. 👌🏽

So next, we get into some action as we’re taken to 5 years after the bridge. We see Rick and his iconic walk as he stands in the forest with other consignees. And it was such a joy to see him back on screen and know we were finally going to get the continuation of his story. 🙌🏽

gif cred: @vidco

Rick holds a CRM hatchet, which also feels symbolic because it’s similar to one of his signature TWD weapons, but it’s marked by the CRM showing they’ve in many ways attempted to claim him. 

Rick is also the only consignee with a leash, clearly illustrating that he’s a lil different than the rest. He’s the one who doesn’t want to be here and will try to escape if given the chance and the CRM knows this about him. Along with attempting to claim him, this leash makes it feel like the CRM is also attempting to tame him like he's a defiant animal.

gif cred: @nerd4music

As Rick looks around and takes a breath you can tell he’s fully made up his mind about what he’s about to do with his most extreme escape attempt yet.

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Rick runs to take out walkers and again seeing him back in action is such a sight for sore eyes. He’s still got it. 👌🏽 However, because he looks all healthy and strong I think some can miss that Rick is still very much in mental disarray from battling the psychological torment of being taken and trapped all these years. Like he might look normal and fine (and I do mean that in all the ways 😇) but he's not mentally healthy right now.

(Side note: I really love the look of this whole night scene with the deep blues and fiery reds. The budget was doing its thing in TOWL. 👏🏽🔥)

gif cred: @nerd4music

So Rick runs far enough that the leash pulls him to the ground. A soldier yells at him and he says “Sorry. Trying to find my axe.” Look at our cute little liar. 😋

And then the show gets right into the wildness by having Rick put a belt around his arm and proceed to chop off his own hand. It’s insane😳.

It's also very reminiscent of when Negan nearly made Rick chop off Carl’s arm in the season 7 premiere. Chopping his own hand off in these woods was more doable for Rick than had he had to chop off Carl’s arm because it’s his family he cares about far more than himself.

As Rick prepares to do the chop he repeats “This is how” as in this is how he gets home. It hurts my heart that he feels this is the only way.🥺

But it's really moving to see that he’s willing to do something this intense to get back to his love. Also, this is 5 years after the bridge, so this means that even a half a decade later Rick was still as determined as ever to break free and get back to Michonne.

The people I watch with and I had a whole discussion on whether chopping the hand the way he did was daftly executed by the show considering it’s such an extreme thing to do in this situation where Rick was never going to successfully get away bleeding out like that with CRM soldiers so close by.

But my argument was that the 'ill-thought-out' element of this escape plan is part of the point.

For 5 years atp, Rick has been isolated from all love and warmth and is deteriorating mentally day by day. In this extremely damaged state, he’s not thinking straight, and cutting off his hand is a last-ditch effort that shows he will try absolutely anything, sound or unsound, to get back to Michonne and Judith.

Yes, he possibly could have just cut off the thumb or hacked at the leash but the extreme approach Rick took also conveys that he’s not all there right now and he’s as desperate as he’s ever been to finally break free and go home. It also informs us that his more sane escape attempts haven't worked and so now Rick Grimes is willing to try the insane stuff to get back to his family.

Think about the mindset he has to be in to go against natural human instinct and chop off his own hand. It’s crazy, but it immediately lets us know that even the most impractical solutions are now what it’s come to for him. 

gif cred: @nat111love

So basically, if it seems super reckless for him to do it this way, that’s the intention imo. He’s so worn down and off mentally from his debilitating circumstances that he’ll do anything whether it’s the wise thing or not, he doesn’t care anymore. Anything to get back to her.

The traditional saying is 'asking for her hand in marriage,' but here we see Rick, the ultimate lover boy, be like 'What if I literally give my hand for my marriage.' If there’s one thing TOWL made perfectly clear it’s that Rick and Michonne have crazy love. 💯

And while yes his escape plan could have been more thought through, my baby Rick did show some smart thinking by putting the ax in the fire to make the chop easier so you gotta give him that. 😌👌🏽

After he cuts off his hand this horror music plays as Rick proceeds to make a run for it. He has to lean behind a tree dazed as he bleeds profusely.

It’s crazy because the last time we saw Rick in a full episode of TWD he was bleeding out and now here he is intensely injured again and going through the wringer. I was so eager for whenever this man would finally get some much-deserved rest. 

gif cred: @twdfranchise

Rick then has the strength to take out a walker and cauterize the wound by plunging his arm into the fire inside it. This whole thing was an effective way to show early that one; Rick is built different and two; this man will endure literally anything to get home. And home is very much not a place but his wife and daughter.

So then he tries to make a run for it as CRM soldiers near closer and I honestly think with this being his fourth escape attempt this was really a “go home or die trying" attempt. Like I think Rick knew that dying tonight was a very real possibility.

The soldiers knock Rick down and he lays on the ground defeated and drained as he stares at the burning corpse of a walker that’s certainly meant to reflect how he feels as well. Almost like the burning desire to go home has officially consumed him and taken him out.

Feeling like a corpse himself, Rick fades out of consciousness as soldiers approach. And then we get to enter Rick’s lovely mind and see where he goes when at his wit's end.

And y’all, these first two TOWL scenes to analyze were pretty hefty, dark, and depressing, so it’s time we get to something lighter and happier to dive into. And what’s better and brighter than Rick’s beautiful dream world with his beautiful dream girl? 😌👌🏽🌟

[hp-hcs]

Um, yeah, I don't really have a specific character in mind (so you can ignore this if u want to!), but how would some characters react to a male reader who listens to muggle music, but like- metal?? yk

this is the kind of shit i wanna see in my inbox hell fucking yeah

❕i’ll be honest, my vibe has always been more punk/pop punk/metalcore/hard rock 🤷‍♂️ i did my best buttttt these are all just songs from my playlist so- (i adore my slytherin babygirls but they’ll always be second to my lord and savior glenn danzig)❕

also accidentally wrote gn reader again so that’s pretty girlypop

requests open

i’ve never actually written one of these like, group headcanons for a whole bunch of people, but i keep seeing other people doing it so we’re trying it out ig. do we like it? yes? no?

slytherin boys: gn! muggleborn! reader’s music taste is rather…unexpected

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

mattheo: die, die my darling — misfits

i’m of the opinion that mattheo would fucking LOVE the misfits (once you introduce him)

he walks into your dorm to ask you a quick question, and you’re just dancing around in your room screaming the lyrics to:

“DIE DIE DIE MY DARLING, DONT UTTER A SINGLE WORD”

“DIE DIE, DIE MY DARLING, JUST SHUT YOUR PRETTY MOUTH”

he’s like 🧍‍♂️😦😍

and that’s when he falls in love with you

jk, unless????

you show him the misfits’ entire discography, and bitch about jerry only (as u should)

he takes a bit too much of a liking to helena 🤨

yk, the song that goes “if i cut off your arms, and i cut off your legs, would you still love me, anyway? if you’re bound and you’re gagged, draped and displayed, would you still love me, anyway?”

🤨🤨🤨

interesting, mattheo. interesting. not concerning in the slightest.

he adores them and you guys listen to their music together when you study <33

y’all start running around screaming I AINT NO GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH

your teachers love it <3

theodore: nazi punks fuck off — dead kennedys

y’all were showering together

(is that really like a sexy thing? i sure as fuck don’t know 🖤🩶🤍💜)

you started singing to yourself and babygirl was like 😳☺️

he loves ur voice <3

even when you’re singing “nazi punks, nazi punks, nazi punks FUCK OFF”

(cause like……yk…….he’s a wizard nazi himself 😬👍)

awkwarddddd

he always lets you put on your music

to be honest, he doesn’t really care about the lyrics, he just loves that you love it

(*cough* simp *cough*)

draco: possessed by satan — gorgoroth

you’d just come back from winter break and had brought one of your holiday presents back with you: a new record player and a shitload of vinyls

you set it up in your dorm and asked your roomie, draco, if he’d mind if you played something

he'd never admit it, but he was wildly curious what muggle music sounded like

so of course, you blessed him with the sweet sweet sounds of gorgoroth 😌🥰

(aww, nostalgia <3)

he just looked at you like 😨

you then proceeded to educate him on gaahl beating the shit out of someone (a l l e g e d l y) and threatening to drink his blood

he’s now even more concerned

(do you or do you not tell him about the gogoroth concert ft. alive ‘crucified’ actors & impaled sheep heads vs. the country of poland?)

((idk babe that’s for you to decide))

blaise: boogie woogie wu — insane clown posse

i feel like blaise is chill enough to give any music a shot before deciding if he likes it or not

you weren’t that close, just acquaintances, but one day you just offered up your other headphone to him in the middle of a really boring class

oh, he’s in love

🎵😍😍🎶

you make him a playlist of songs you think he’d love, and he lowkey almost starts crying and that’s how he asks you out on your first date

(is it terrible to think that this might be your wedding’s first dance song?)

((NOW MURDERRRR))

(((UH OH, HERE COME THE PO-PO TOO MUCH MURDER)))

enzo: custer — slipknot

it’s your ringtone for someone 😌

like ur mom, or something? idfk

“incoming call from: birthgiver” 🎵CUT CUT CUT ME UP AND FUCK FUCK FUCK ME UP🎶

enz:🧍‍♂️

he doesn’t even know how to react

he’s only a bit terrified

he’ll listen to a few other songs you play for him, but will make you play the weird sisters afterwards

tom: reincarnate — motionless in white

he’s bitching about how much muggles suck and muggle music is trash blah blah blah

and ur like “oh really? wanna bet?”

you whip out your phone and start blasting your playlist

he would absolutely eat that shit up

it’s cheaper than therapy ig 🤷‍♂️

he hates being wrong about anything ever so he’ll never admit out loud that he likes it, but he will just show up at your dorm at like eleven pm like:

“do you have any more uh……song recommendations or something…..uhhhh” 🧍‍♂️

babygirl 💞

[genshin-impacted]

three ways to say goodbye

Never once does Alhaitham ever say the words ‘good-bye.’ (And one time he doesn’t need to.) OR You die in four three different ways; Alhaitham deals with your death differently each time. 

Word Count: ~3.5k (one shot)

Notes: Alhaitham x Reader (3+1 fic), gender-neutral reader, Alhaitham POV, major character death(s) (you), ANGST, mainly hurt with comfort at the end, exploratory fic on how Alhaitham deals with grief & death-- his devotion, each part has specific notes

.

.

.

[anticlimatic]

notes: slight description of dead body (you), blood, ambiguous relationship status; implied roommates with Kaveh and Alhaitham, could be ot3 if you squint, mild profanity

Your death came without warning, without rhyme or reason. It doesn't make sense for you to die here, your potential on the brink of being fully realized, your journey cut abruptly before it has even started. As a narrative, your death is almost anticlimactic, unpredictable and hidden away in the forests of Sumeru where the rangers found you, body broken and eyes closed forever. Your wings must have failed you midflight, plummeting you down to the ground without a safety net. If there were any signs of foul play, it is hard to tell; there is so much blood to wash off of you.

Tighnari was the one to set your limbs straight to make you look more comfortable, and Cyno was the one to tell Alhaitham to come and identify your body. 

It's only a formality at this point. Cyno and Tighnari-- Alhaitham thinks they would not have let Collei see your body, bruised as it is-- would have been ample identification checks. They know you well, consider you a friend. It may also be a sort of mercy from Cyno to inform Alhaitham of what has happened so he can be one of the first to know, the first to see you. 

They know Alhaitham was more important to you than any of them-- Alhaitham included-- could truly understand. So, of course, it is Alhaitham who gets to know first. 

Cyno peels back the cover from your head. It must be the least injured part of your body because the only tell-tale sign that you are dead is the stillness of your face. You are the most animated person he knows, even if you aren't aware of it. You constantly move your eyes to see the world for what it is, lips always upturned subconsciously, though Alhaitham can remember the days when you went without for quite some time. It was a trying period for you, but your smile came back eventually, and all felt right in the world.

Alhaitham knows it will not come back this time. 

"It's them," he says, though you look far from the person you were when you were still alive. "Where will the body be stored?"

"The Sumeru morgue," Cyno replies. He pauses. "Will you-"

"They have no family. No next of kin." Alhaitham says, "I will arrange their funeral."

Cyno only nods, and Alhaitham watches as he goes to cover your face up with a foreboding sense of dread he cannot place. Cyno does not apologize to Alhaitham for his loss. Neither of them is the type to placate others even in their grief. As for "his" loss? Certainly not just his. You were well loved, a bud in bloom among the vines of the Akademiya with your reputation built from the soil up. Those that knew you will mourn. 

Yes, Alhaitham is in mourning, right now, isn't he? Everyone else believes it to be so. Tighnari tells him ‘my condolences' even though his own face is tight with regret, as though he could have single handedly prevented this from happening. He doesn't see Collei but perhaps that is telling enough of her grief. Cyno tells him that he will let Dehya and Candace know, and Alhaitham can only nod in agreement.

Alhaitham thinks he knows the reason for the dread when he comes home and Kaveh is there. His roommate has been pacing around in the living room, Alhaitham can tell. Without either you or Alhaitham present, Kaveh was worried but trying not to think of the worst-case scenario. Alhaitham has to be the one to break the news to him of the worst-case scenario, and he braces himself for the torrent. 

If Alhaitham is the person who knows you best, then Kaveh is right behind him. Your death will devastate Kaveh, even if Kaveh does not know it yet. 

"You're lying," Kaveh tells him. His face is as impassive as Alhaitham has ever seen. "You're lying to me, and it's not fucking funny-"

"I’m not lying," Alhaitham says. When Kaveh opens his mouth to argue, spit vitriol, call him a liar again, Alhaitham feels his own temper rise, and for a twisted moment, it almost feels familiar, him and Kaveh at each other's throats, except they've never argued over something as serious as this. "I wouldn’t lie about this. And you know it." 

Alhaitham expects it to escalate. Kaveh will raise his voice and Alhaitham will too, both of them feeding their animosity into each other like they have never done since their Akademiya days. Even their latest bickering is nothing, and with you added into the mix, it becomes even less than that-- more eye rolls and snarky remarks than anything close to an argument.

But you're gone. So everything is different now, even if no one wants it to be. And when Kaveh's lips begin to tremble, his face falling upon the realization that oh god, Alhaitham is telling the truth, Alhaitham realizes something too. Telling Kaveh about your death was worthy of dread, but the thought that nothing will ever be the same with you gone, makes the foreboding feeling gape and widen. 

He will pass by Lambad's Tavern and walk in, expecting you to be there at the third seat of the bar, writing your essay, but you will not. He will sit at the table nearest the window in the House of Daena and read while waiting for you to come and ask him to find a book, but you will not. He will walk home, noise canceling headphones off despite the bustle of the city, because he expects you to come up from behind him, hoping to surprise him for once, but you will never come. He will enter an empty home, quiet and devoid of sound, and instead of being relieved, he will only feel the same heavy dread, knowing you will never come home again.

Alhaitham never said he loved you aloud, and now he never will. Did you know anyways? Without him telling you, did you know that he loved you? Through the way he believed in you, the way he said your name, the times he's helped you, eaten with you, let you sleep on his shoulder and in his bed when you were tired. You knew him best, cherished him more than he could understand. Did you know he loved you like you loved him?

The unspoken questions, the unsaid words. As abrupt your death is, it is permanent, and Alhaitham will have to live life knowing there is an empty space where you once were that will never be filled again.

.

.

.

[stay]

notes: slight description of dead body (you), blood, established relationship

Alhaitham cannot control things that are beyond his abilities to do so. The heavenly principles are far beyond him, beyond even the archons themselves, so it only makes sense that the events that transpire involving them are out of his control.

This upsets him less than most people would think. He's a thinker, calculating each of his steps before implementing them, so it would make sense when he can’t plan out every step of the way. People would be right to an extent, but Alhaitham is logical enough to understand there is no use trying to change something that he cannot. And why waste time being upset over that when he can focus on the things he can control?

Only… he is human, and even he miscalculates. When he thinks of the things within his power to control, he thinks about your happiness, his ability to make you laugh and blush, the ways he can keep you safe. He did not anticipate, as he holds your hands slick from your own blood, that your safety is beyond his control.

"Let me stop the bleeding," Alhaitham tells you, scanning his surroundings for anything he can to help him staunch your wound. You look at him, breathing shallow, his grip not once faltering even as you seem to lose the strength to hold onto him. "Don't fall asleep. Keep looking at me. I'll use my cape for now-"

"Alhaitham."

"I’ll lift your body up," he says, clicking his tongue when his hands slip from under you with the blood. "Tie this around you for now. The Traveler wasn't far from here-"

"Haitham."

"-even Paimon can help carry your legs if you can't walk anymore. I know she can-" Alhaitham stops when you start to push his hands away from your abdomen where the bleeding is most heavy. "What are you doing?"

"Can you," you begin to say, rasping these words as though it is taking every breath to speak, "can you just hold me? Haitham."

Alhaitham shakes his head. "I’ll hold you later.” He tells you, swallowing thickly as you look into his eyes as though searching for something. The next words makes his mouth dry, but he must say it. He must try. “I promise. I have to do this-"

"I can tell I'm not gonna make it."

Alhaitham shifts his legs under him and feels his knees soak in blood. 

"Respectfully," Alhaitham says icily, "you may be more well versed with medicine than me, but you aren't at full capacity right now to judge accurately." 

You laugh at this. Alhaitham doesn't see how any of this could be funny to you. He doesn't understand you. He never has. But, oh, he wishes he does; wishes he had all the time in the world to get to understand you more. 

He feels your hand paw at his wrist, your fingers cold as ice. 

You shake your head so slowly, and the smile you give him blooms just as slowly as the Padisarah flower he gave you last week. Your smile is no less beautiful though, no less bright despite it all. 

"Maybe." You sigh. "But I’d like for you to hold me anyways. Please?" You say, "I feel so cold." 

Alhaitham swallows his protests, because in the end, it is logic that will always win against all else: there is a low percentage that any help will arrive, and Alhaitham cannot do anything to save you. 

“Okay,” he says quietly, gathering you up into his arms. Strong as he is, he is so gentle with the way he brings your head to rest against his shoulders, bringing your legs over his lap so he can cradle your body against his to share the warmth. He hears you sigh in relief, though he doubts it’s because you feel any warmer. It is purely comfort that he is providing, until the end. 

For the first time since his youth, Alhaitham feels helpless. 

“Your eyes are so pretty,” you tell him, words slurring. He lets out a huff of laughter– he feels delirious almost– that is shakier than usual, taking your cold hands and kissing your fingers as though it could bring it some semblance of warmth. “Lots of colors.”

‘Thanks,’ he could say dryly, like he always does. ‘I think I might like yours better,’ he could say; it would get a laugh out of you, and isn’t that what he always wants for you? ‘I love you’ would work too; it always works when it’s you. 

Alhaitham opens his mouth to reply, but instead of anything he has planned, he says to you instead with all the desperation in his heart, “Please stay.” 

“I love you,” you tell him instead; you always made it sound so easy to say. 

In the aftermath, when the dust has settled and those who have not toppled remain, Kaveh finds Alhaitham hours after your death, cradling your body, his face buried into your neck. 

.

.

.

[anticipatory]

notes: next two parts have the same back story- you have a leyline curse similar to Dainsleif; some fluff here! established relationship

“How long,” you ask as you lie in bed with him, “do you think I have?” 

Alhaitham’s hand stops tracing lines on your back over the curse marks that paint your skin abyss blue. It’s not an unfamiliar question. You ask every once in a while, because you can’t see the progression of the ley line curse on your back, so you rely on him to tell you how far it’s spread. 

Based on the growth, which only seems to go faster by the day, Alhaitham calculates you have about another year before it consumes your entire body. 

Only six months ago it was invisible to the naked eye. Tonight, the blues spread outward like butterfly wings from the middle of your spine to reach your shoulders. You’ve already stopped wearing sleeveless shirts to cover the marks, but when they go past your neck or onto your hands, it’ll be difficult to justify wearing turtlenecks and gloves all the time while in Sumeru. 

“Let’s take a vacation to Shnezhnaya at the end of the year,” Alhaitham says instead. “I have three months worth of sick days and breaks.”

You pause for a moment before letting him guide the conversation away. “Isn’t one of their main cuisines soup dishes? Borscht or something like that.” He hears you say, amused. “You hate soups.” 

“It makes it difficult to read,” he explains, tracing lines into your back again. You sigh in contentment as he spreads the expanse of his palm along your shoulders, memorizing the abyssal stars that align along the path he makes. “I can deal with it for a little bit. I can cook something else while we’re there.” 

You’re quiet for a little bit, breathing even and steady that Alhaitham thinks you’ve fallen asleep while he was memorizing the dips and curves of your body. You shift when he lifts the blanket up higher over you. He can hear you swallow audibly as though readying yourself to say something, probably to redirect the conversation back to your initial question, he suspects. Before he can say anything, you say with a voice as equally shaky as it is steady, “I’m sorry.” 

Alhaitham’s heart stops. “Why are you apologizing?” He asks as calmly as ever when you do not answer, “Because I’ll have to cook on vacation? Not really that an inconvenience, isn’t it? I’m assuming we’ll split the responsibility.” 

No answer.

“I wasn’t going to use the vacation dates anyways,” he continues. “And I hardly get sick. Though now that we’re talking about it, three months in one place is a long time. Perhaps we should consider traveling-” 

Then he sees you crumble before his eyes, shoulders shaking, face burying into your hands as you start to cry. 

Experienced at loving you now, Alhaitham is quick to bring you close. Lucky enough for him, you still melt against him, welcoming his embrace as he coaxes you to turn his way and bury yourself into his nape instead of your hands. He can still hear your apologies mixed between the gasps of air you take, your tears seemingly unending. He holds you steady, voice calm even though his heart is leaping in his chest as it always does when you are upset. 

“What’s wrong?” he says, voice hushed. And like every other time you are upset, he asks you, "What can I do to fix it?” 

“I don’t-” you say, voice cracking, “I don’t want to leave you.” 

“...You don’t know that you will,” Alhaitham says. And it’s true. Neither of you know what will happen for certain. A lone blond traveler with a curse similar to you had passed by and told him of his eventual fate, and you had likened it to your own. But there’s no proof proving the two of you are the same, though it can’t be said that there is no connection between your fates at all. 

“How long do you think I have?” You ask again, and he knows he cannot hide it from you any longer.

“A year at most,” he says. Your eyelashes brush by his collarbone when you close your eyes shut. He stops you before your thoughts can even form. “I am not leaving you.” He scoffs and you make a noise of indignation. “Don’t even think about saying something like that.” 

“You didn’t let me say anything yet,” he hears you grumble, and he lets a huff of laughter out at the sound of your petulant voice. 

“Do you really think I would do something if I didn’t want to?” Alhaitham says dryly, “And what’s the thought process behind me leaving you before you can leave me? I’d love to know.” When you are quiet, he continues softly, “Do you think I am that fragile to fall apart when you are gone?”

“...No,” you say finally. “But I think you underestimate how strongly you feel.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, really,” you say, and your voice is light again, as it always is when you talk about how much you love him. “‘Cause I know better. How much you really feel, even if your face is… like that.” 

“Like what,” Alhaitham says bluntly. When you only laugh into his shoulder, he can’t help but smile with you. 

If Alhaitham could describe it, it feels like the longest goodbye. ‘Live every moment like it’s your last’ becomes the mantra between the two of you, though neither of you has said those exact words out loud. You love in abundance, laugh in abundance, bicker in full as though you are trying to live out the rest of your lives in one year. 

The day Alhaitham takes you to the snowy lands of Snezhnaya is sooner than later, the scarves and gloves worn more days than not. As promised, you two do share the cooking duties for those months, getting cozy by the fireplace and learning how to icefish from the locals. He learns how to barter with the merchants there and commissions the two of you rings to wear. Though he never sees you wear it outside, he can always feel the ring when he holds your gloved hands. He thinks you never take it off.

When Alhaitham returns from Snezhnaya, he comes home alone with nothing but a golden band on his ring finger. The people that know him know better than to ask. 

.

[priorities]

notes: connected background as previous but different ending; fluff! established relationship; happy end

Alhaitham has always been the type to stay in the background. People might be inclined to call him the ‘mastermind’ but that’s giving him too much credit considering how much he wants to remain unknown and unperceived. But he supposes having a hand in toppling the heavenly principles and destroying the castle in the sky and being unrecognized is asking for too much.

“You’re an… interesting guy,” you tell him, a few days after the climactic battle which, fortunately, neither of you had to have a large part in. (Well, there was that key role for you… and another for him, but that is neither here nor there.) You snicker into your hand when he shoots you a strange look. 

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Alhaitham asks, and before he can continue his retort, you are sitting on his lap even though the two of you are supposed to both be on bedrest, in separate beds. Tighnari is going to kill them if he finds them now that he knows neither of you are going to die any time soon. 

“It means you’re an interesting guy,” you say. “The first thing you tell me is that you hate involving yourself into tedious things. And then you get yourself into making strategies to take down literal gods, which sounds pretty tedious to me.”

Your smile is beautific when you look at him, your arms finding their way around his neck and legs over his lap. Instinctively, he puts a hand around your back and holds onto your legs so you don’t fall. He takes a peek at your back and sees that the abyssal blue has not moved a single centimeter beyond your shoulder blades. He knows that was what was calculated, but still, he breathes a sigh of relief upon its confirmation. 

“I always make a basic list of pros and cons for a plan,” Alhaitham says. “I just deemed overthrowing gods to be less tedious than the alternative outcome.” 

“And what could possibly be more tedious than overthrowing a literal god?” You laugh, looking up at him as though he hung the moon and stars. He thinks if he hung the moon and stars, then you must be the one holding up the sun in the sky. 

“Losing you,” Alhaitham says simply. “I’d prefer not to imagine a life without you in it, so I made sure that a life with you would happen.” 

Alhaitham knows you are smart enough to know what he was going to say, but you seem surprised anyways, eyes wide and tears welling up at his admission. Perhaps some time ago, Alhaitham would not have believed it would have ever been worth upheaving his life for the sake of another person. But Alhaitham has never been one for halves; the moment he decided to have you in his life, then there was no other option for him.

“I love you,” you say, and he thinks overthrowing gods is an easy choice to make if three words is enough to make him feel this happy, if your arms around him is enough to make him content. 

He’s said it before, and he’ll say it again– it’s only a matter of priorities. You just happen to be right on top of that list. 

[wonyrs]

fluster

enha hyungs x fmr gnr non-idol au, est. relationship warnings food wc 939 + library #

‘ enha hyung as ur 'homies' ! REQ

lee heeseung

" ayyy how u been bro?"

plays along and even replaces his normal petnames with something he'd usually call the members but NEVER you (until now)

um... hello? where is the endearing "why'd u call me that babe 😢☝️?" where is the begging for a kiss? where is the desperate attempts at pda we were hoping to see? this wasn't the plan at all (like... at ALL)

he tries to hide his laugh when u give him the stink eye and keeps up his act

even going as far to pretend like he isn't seeing ur hand inching closer to his and lifts it up to 'brush' the hair from his face

second attempt at holding his hand ended up with him fishing his phone out from his pocket and showing u an extremely!!! hilarious... insta reel.

ur plan has reversed; instead of him dying for ur affection, its now u trying to stop him from treating u like any other person before u physically cannot take it anymore

"ok man. i see how it is man. bye man." this is ur cue to stand up, run away and never look back for ur own emotional sake

if it weren't for heeseung GRIPPING onto ur shirt with the most gobsmacking laugh u've heard coming out his mouth, to the point tears were trsiling down his face from how hard he's laughing

"wait- wait [name]! you started it, come back!"

park jongseong

" how are u doing BABE? how's life BABE? "

mommm [name]'s acting weird again, i think the heat's getting to them

he acts like he can't see ur hand in the air and continues to kiss u right on the lips (but he still moves ur arm down for safety measures)

"what's good, dude?" "baby, who are u talking to? it's only us in this room lol 🤨"

u try again with dapping him up but immediately he turns around and oh so suddenly the wall is soooo interesting

for the whole hour u mess with him and call him 'bro, dude, gang' and shit like that while he just sneakily rolls his eyes and goes on with his day- while most likely wondering what on earth was wrong w u

he'd be in the kitchen washing the dishes while ure trying to hold his hand and have it dap urs up

but is he paying attention?

lmfao no

he goes on with his day since he knows u cant go another hour without his love and so he has nothing to worry about (unless u actually DO go for another hour, then he's actually going to believe something's wrong with u)

eventually u give up and go back to slumping on his back. the months u've spent together gave jay a clear understanding on ur antics and gave him some time to prepare for anything u had up ur sleeve

" tired already? an hour, new record babe. good job"

sim jaeyun

" why are u doing this to me "

the moment u refuse his hug and opt for a more... different greeting, jake malfunctions for a bit

he trys to hug u again but u extremely remain still

whines complains when u keep up the 'homeboy' act

"i swear we acted like a normal couple yesterday, did i make u mad pookie? 😥" sneaks in some of the petnames u absolutely LOATHE just for a reaction

hates when u replace the lovely kiss-and-hug interactions with dapping him up like a BRO

most likely complained to the enha gc abt ur 'unearthly' behaviour (u get his ass on that later) and cries that he might never see the old u again

the urge to drown him in all the love u've kept in since u met up is eating u alive But watching him practically cry over ur feet is helping u out a wee bit

"chat this is absolutely hilarious what are we thinking" "WOW! Hahaha so funny!! Such a kneeslapper! can u stop now 😐."

Hes dead serious when he says this btw Like full on eye contact with furrowed eyebrows, but a small pout is resting on his face

he was fine with the joke at first but then he just got more eager for ur touch as the hours went by

u stare for a bit before engulfing him in the biggest hug ever while peppering his face with an abundance of smooches

"finally! u dont know how long ive waited for this"

park sunghoon

" did u eat something funny? "

just stares. nothing else, just stares

eventually u have to drop ur arm because the silence just got too awkward

was he mad at u? (ofc not) Maybe hoonie just needed to load and take a bit to process the scene in front of him

"i dont think u should be doing this to your boyfriend, babe. it doesn't really fit the loving couple vibe yk 🤖"

even when sunghoon continues to act like everything's normal u keep on persisting with acting like close-bro-friends

... only to be met with the most baffled face ever.

he wonders if ure roleplaying as some character or just genuinely going insane

decides to go along with whatever you're doing and continue the day as normal as it can get

when u get tired of the lack of attention, u drop the act but unconsciously refer to him as bro

muscle memory(ish) fr

"dude can you at least act interested?" "um excuse me? what'd u just call me"

HELLO. where was this dumbfounded hoon when u need him?

ure actually laughing atp because he doesn't even look like he knew what was wrong

the whole time u kept up w the joke, he didn't even look like he cared UNTIL u got tired and talked in ur normal tone

"don't ever say 'dude' in a serious tone like that. scared me, babe."

@ wonyrs 2023

note sorry anon for not taking ur request after like 2 weeks... i've needed some motivation to write SORRY.. also maknae version is next :> requests open!

[dearest-painter]

No she’s MY daughter PT.2

Summary: Y/N Drew is the adopted daughter of Jessica drew as a 6 soccer year old girl. What she doesn’t know is that she looks a bit to familiar to her mom’s boss, in his eyes she’s the reincarnation of his dead daughter. When Y/N and her friends have to help an anomaly stay alive it reveals that more people want her as family.

TW/CW:Yandere behavior, unhealthy behavior, unhealthy relationship,abusive behavior,abusive relationship,Reader is basically Gabriella O’Hara aka Miguel’s dead daughter but you can change your looks just some things will look like Gabriella,Reader is a soccer player which is based off of my experience,Reader is 6 years old so no romance bc duh,very out of character characters,this is a series,Her mama brought her to a chase,Reader is BFFS with Pavitr,people might be out of character,tell me if I need to add more

PT.1 PT.3

You’ve been waiting for your mama for so long that coloring became so boring! “Miss Lyla, if your an AI can you tell me where my mama is please?” “I can try kid!” You smiled as she began looking for your mama, you’ve seen Miguel every so often asking if your hungry or thirsty..he’s sorta scary in your eyes as the dark room doesn’t help with his skull spider logo. He’s the same height as your dad so that made you less scared of him…sorta. “Okay kid, your mom is coming with some other people”

You nodded your head then started move your ankles in a circle motion at different times as your shoes were getting annoying so you then decided to just untie them to loosen them up. “Much better!..what to do is the question…” you made a ‘tch’ sound multiple times as you thought, steal from Miguel since in Hobie’s words ‘Big man don’t need it, he already got to much power’ or something like that, take a nap, or fix the little gizmo in your pocket…fixing the gizmo it is! You took the gizmo out and your double sided screwdriver (basically it can come out of the holder and it has a different screwdriver head on the other side). The gizmo is just a little robot fella named Gizmo.

Lyla watched as she secretly recorded it as she liked to see you happy. “There’s my girl!” “Mama!” You stopped and ran to hug your mama’s legs which you did! You then hugged Hobie which he hugged back then Gwen but you stopped at the new guy. “What’s your name? I like your outfit!” “Thanks! I’m Miles Morales!” You smiled and held your hand out to be nice. “Y/N Drew!” Miles shook your hand then looked at your mother then at you as he didn’t know what to say next. You looked around to see Pavitr as you missed your best friend.

“Where’s Pavy?” “Pavitr is busy but don’t worry, you two will see each other soon” “Yay!” You jumped a bit not paying attention to the conversation that’s currently happening between Miles and Miguel. “Don’t blame him! He had a bad teacher!” “Peter!” “Hey!” “You have a baby!” “I have a baby!” You smiled as you held Mayday as you two giggled, she then wanted to go to the wall so you walked to the wall and she started crawling on it. Miguel was say something in Spanish but you didn’t understand as you giggled seeing Mayday run or crawl away from her dad.

Jessica smiled as she knew you’ll be a great big sister with the way you take care of Mayday, your baby sibling will be so glad to have you as a big sister. Her and her husband always loved the way you ramble about how your going to protect and annoy your baby sibling as it seemed so adorable. Miguel looked over a bit to see you and Mayday playing together and laughing in joy.

He smiled a bit as it was a cute sight to see his daughter playing with a toddler. He knew Lyla was recording with the way she was squealing silently in joy so that no one payed attention to her. He wish he could take you home right now so you’ll be safe and far away from all these annoying assholes as you don’t need to be around all of these people as they’ll rot your brain.

[slashthrashandcrash]

I imagine that The Other is the only guy in the Slashers support group (Y'know like the Wreck it Ralph villains support group) who barely say anything and when he does it's about his little girl I think it's sweet, like a slasher can just be talking about his sad pathetic life and the Other is like: Well my daughter likes pink

The only thing better than a slasher is a slasher support group

This guy needs more fun headcanons, he's a Dad who goes killing on Halloween nights while his kid stays at home with all the candies, which is a whole mood in itself, you pull out all that nasty slasher things he did, he's just a normal single dad with a child and probably a dead wife trope haunting him too (It's pretty safe to assume his wife is dead judging by that booth photo strip in the cabinet door and no living wife in the ending)

BROTHER DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON OVERANALYZING AND HEADCANNONING HELLFEST YOU DON'T KNOW THE HORRORS YOU WILL UNLEASH--

Because here's the thing: the scene where the Other goes home to his daughter sleeping on the couch? If you look in the background, there's also one of those pack-n-play cribs, as well as other baby toys around the living room. So he not only has a 8-10yo daughter, he has a baby baby. Two kiddos. This man not only smashes but smashes well enough (and is parental enough) to get two separate babies.

And I also believe in the dead wife theory (which I think you could def argue that she's still alive -- who would have taken the kids trick r treating? he wouldn't have left a baby home alone all night. mom's probably just in the other room and he only spared Natalie bc he would never hurt his wife) which really sucks for him because it means her death was fairly recent. Maybe 18mo ago at most if she died from childbirth complications, or it even could have been two months ago. Long enough to help him create a "new normal" for the sake of the kids, but still fresh enough to hurt.

But the fact that he has multiple masks means he's done this several times at different haunted house attractions. We know that from the opening scene and in a director interview he mentioned how if he had the opportunity for sequels, it would be more of the Other's slayings. So this is likely a yearly tradition rather than him hitting up like 8 houses the whole month of October. Which doubly means that while he was likely still killing when his wife was alive, this is probably the first time he's done it as a widow, and seeing Natalie and her striking resemblance to the girl he has in the photo booth strip....

Like I could just go on about this forever man I love slasher x final girl and obsessive/unrequited love and grief