#a lot of angst a little bit of rock and roll | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

niningtori · 7 months ago

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supermodel | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after finding out one of your closest friends sabotaged your relationship with beomgyu in hopes of having him all to herself, you end up spending a night with him. you may come to regret it when you realize beomgyu may not have been as innocent as he initially seemed.

genre: romance, angst, MELODRAMA, yandere, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! yandere!gyu (super manipulative!gyu at least), more (justified imo) cheating, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, pregnancy kink, voyeurism (ig?), dom!gyu, sub!gyu, if i'm missing anything lmk

word count: 6.2k

notes: alright ;_; after much debate i'm reposting this probably only for a few days just so everyone who wanted to read can read it before i (probably) delete again! posting this made me feel rlly insecure for some reason but thanks to my moots and anons i feel a lot better ab it :) at least for a little bit. also, i know the direction may have taken quite the turn but this is genuinely just how it came out 😭 if you don't like it i'm sorry ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ )

it’s hard to reason with beomgyu as he presses hot kisses down your neck, but it’s not like you’re not trying. you think you’re trying really hard, actually, but it’s nothing in comparison to the effort he’s putting in to make you lose your mind. you have no control over your moans when he sucks a hickey into your neck. you feel heat pooling in your stomach as he grabs your ass and snakes his other hand up your hoodie to catch one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he’s finally tasted you and, like a man starved, he’ll be damned before someone takes away what’s his.

“b-beomie, we can’t! let’s go back to my place, at least,” you try to reason, but your resolve is weakening as you feel your pussy wetten under his caresses.

“shh, hana’s not gonna be home tonight,” he whispers. “just want you so bad, can’t wait.” he looks so earnest, you can’t bear to part from him. his puppy eyes look devastated, so what else can you do besides relent? and he knows it, too. now he’s got you.

he leads you to hana’s bedroom, where he’s spent countless nights listening to her talk about how much she loves him, has loved him for years. he wants to roll his eyes at this, but he doesn’t want you to misunderstand, so he keeps it to himself. he’ll admit, she really did pull the wool over his eyes when she said you didn’t like him, so he can’t wait to see her reaction when she realizes you two have finally figured it out. if she wants to play dirty, they can both try their hand and see who wins.

and it feels an awful lot like he’s winning when he sees you undress once again, body bare with traces of him on every part of you. even if he hadn’t marked you up so much, and he has, there’s still evidence of his impact on you leaking out of your pussy. you letting him come inside was truly unexpected, but welcome, nonetheless. he knows, when you’ve sobered up from your lustful daze, you’ll ask him if he’s ever fucked hana raw. you’ll probably cry again and rush to get plan b, but he’ll tell you he’s not stupid. he’d never fuck anyone without protection, especially someone he likes as little as he likes hana. he just likes you so much, he couldn’t help but want to feel you. you’re everything he dared to wish you would be. even better, actually, and now that he’s tasted you, he never wants to stop.

the feeling of wanting to be close to you reemerges when he sees you dropping to your knees for him. you fiddle with the zipper of his pants and he sighs when cool air meets his bare cock. and you're so perfect with your makeup smudged, hair in disarray, and mouth open, prettily presented for fucking.

you start with a lick of your lips and he’s already rock hard from the anticipation. you grab his base and tease little licks up and down his length. he never thought he’d be particularly into that, really, but you look so hungry for him it makes him whine. finally, you lick the precum off of his tip and he moans when you shallowly take in the tip of his cock, hollowing out your cheeks. you bob your head shallowly and it’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to grab the back of your head and shove himself down your throat. but he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he lets you tease him. for now, at least. you take more and more of him into your warm mouth until you can feel his tip searing the back of your throat. you can’t possibly fit all of him into your mouth, so you take the rest of him in your hands. you look up at him with watery eyes, almost like you’re asking for his approval, and his already thinning patience snaps. he grabs your hair and pumps himself in and out of you. you try to meet his thrusts with teasing swipes of your tongue, never once breaking eye contact. the combination of your gaze and the sight of your drool mixed with his precum dripping out of your mouth drives him crazy.

“baby, look, you’re drooling all over my cock.” you hum in agreement, but a nasty thought crosses his mind as he remembers that you almost went out with another man tonight.

“mmm, who taught you how to use that slutty little mouth?” he asks, riling himself up for reasons unknown. the thought of someone else seeing you like this is enough to push him to madness. he fucks himself into your mouth mercilessly. you’re coughing and slobbering all over his cock, but it’s only when hot tears pour down your face that he registers what he’s doing. how can he bear to hurt you? he pulls out and you’re gasping for air.

“shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. c’mere,” he coos, leading you to the bed.

you lay down shakily and he takes a moment just to admire your body and the work he’s done to it. he can’t control the want in his gaze when he sees your pussy dripping on hana’s comforter. it’s sick to see, in a way, but it excites him even more.

“turn around,” he commands, and you would, you really, really would, but your limbs feel so weak, it’s a chore. he sighs and roughly turns you on your stomach himself. he manhandles you into kneeling on all fours and it’s all you can do not to buckle under such force, but you can’t deny the way it makes your pussy clench around nothing when he does this. as if he can read your mind, he lets out a soft laugh as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself in. you’ve obviously just fucked, but you’re still as tight and hot as the first time. slowly, he feels you stretch and spasm to accommodate his length – pussy gripping him like a vise. he shakes when he feels himself completely sheathed in you.

“g-good girl,” he praises. “so good for me.” then, without giving you another moment to adjust, he begins thrusting into you. his hips meet your ass and he’s awestruck by the sight of it as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix relentlessly. as he’s pumping into your heat, you don’t mean for your arms to give out from under you, but they do. he’s just fucking you so good you can’t help but feel weak. he chuckles at how you’re becoming undone after just a few strokes, but truthfully? he’s endeared. you were so brave in talking back to him earlier, but that attitude is completely gone as you lay there and let him take you over and over again.

“nghh… not so hard, beomie,” you moan.

“is it good, baby? i can feel you milking my cock. tell me it’s good, or i’ll stop,” he threatens.

“mmm, ‘s good! too good!”! you cry.

you’re so busy moaning out beomgyu’s name with your face mashed in the pillows, you really don’t hear the apartment door open and keys being thrown carelessly on the table, but as for beomgyu? he hears it all and it brings a mean, lopsided grin to his face. you’d think he would, at the very least, slow down, but he only rams harder and harder into you. the sound of wetness and skin slapping skin echo throughout the room. hana really wasn’t supposed to be home, this much is true, but what beomgyu didn’t tell you is that she had texted him saying her plans have changed and that he should come over. truly, he couldn’t have conjured up a better outcome than the one unfolding before him.

“beomgyu?!” hana shrieks. you’re so surprised you nearly jump out of beomgyu’s grasp, but he holds your ass in place as he continues his thrusts.

“don’t listen to her, just feel me,” he says in a raspy tone. and what can you do besides listen when he drills himself even harder into you? when you feel the veins of his cock dragging against your insides, you’re tuning out hana’s desperate cries, intentionally or not.

“coming inside, okay?” he, well, you would say ‘asks’, but it’s more of a statement of fact rather than a question. “take it all, baby,” he says as his hips begin to stutter. he smacks your ass — just because he can — and you feel it pulsate throughout your entire body as you clench around him, seeing nothing but white behind your eyelids as your release finally comes along with his.

you’re gasping for air when you finish. he carefully pulls out and watches as your cum and his mix together in the most sinful way. it’s a truly a sight to see, and if he had more time, he would be whipping out his phone and capturing the moment to revisit the next time he’s alone, but hana’s words are cutting into his bliss before he can fully appreciate the sight before him.

“b-beomie? w-what’s going on?” hana asks, tears streaming unabashedly down her pretty face. beomgyu is far too preoccupied to appreciate them, though, as he gently helps you sit up and thoughtfully wipes the drool and tears off of your face.

“‘what’s going on?’” he begins mockingly. “do you really need me to show you again?” he sneers.

meanwhile, you feel like a deer in headlights as you meet hana’s gaze. you feel dirty and small as you try your damndest to cover yourself up. hana’s soft eyes harden while she stares at you.

“you. you did this, you fucking slut,” she spits. you break your gaze and stare down at your naked body. you feel incredibly vulnerable because, as you already know, she’s right. you feel your eyes heat up with tears, this time from guilt and humiliation rather than pleasure.

“you’d better watch your fucking mouth,” beomgyu says, eyebrows furrowed and voice even deeper than usual.

“i just don’t understand. why? why her? and how could you do this to me? you said you loved me!” she shrieks, grabbing beomgyu’s arm. he harshly pulls away and instead collects your sweats and hoodie. you can’t help but stare. he said he loved her then he turned around and fucked you? oh no.

“well, i lied, if that’s not clear enough,” he shrugs, gingerly dressing you like you’re some kind of catatonic doll. and, right now, you might as well be as you let him do what he wants. his callous words don’t match his gentle actions and it’s making your brain short-circuit.

“if and when he does the same shit to you,” she says, looking at you with more hurt than you’ve ever seen on a person, “don’t you fucking dare come crying to me. or any of our friends, actually. just wait ‘til they hear what you fucking did.” you shiver at her ominous words. she’s right, after all. beomgyu dropped her the second you showed interest in him, who’s to say he won’t do the same to you? sure, he’s acting lovey dovey now, but you’ve seen firsthand how quickly his tune can change. you’re absolutely fucked. it’s your word against hers, and with the evidence of your betrayal seeping into her sheets, you don’t like your odds. you can’t help but stare at beomgyu, and, as if he’s reading your mind, he says his next words patiently.

“i love you. i would never hurt you like this.” he loves you now? you continue to look at him doubtfully. his words seem cheap after hana’s unforgiving speech, and he realizes he’s losing you when you don’t respond. hana doesn’t stop there, though.

“if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he’ll do to you,” she laughs. hana is, objectively speaking, a lot more of a catch than you are. and to the very bitter end, she won’t let you fucking forget it.

“shut your fucking mouth!” he exclaims and she flinches, as do you. you’ve never seen him so angry and it’s enough to scare you.

“... i should go,” you croak.

“yeah, you should,” hana ridicules. you do an incredibly shaky walk of shame as you quickly gather your things.

“hey, wait!” he pleads, but you’re already booking it out of the door. he goes to run after you, but hana grabs him forcefully by his shoulder and he spins around to face her. you slam the door, not wanting to know what kind of makeup sex they will probably be having relatively soon. as soon as you’re gone, hana begins.

“are you fucking crazy? her, of all people?!” she hisses.

“i thought i told you to watch how you talk about her,” he says lowly. his eyes are so intense, she’s momentarily stunned, but he’s crazy if he thinks that’ll shut her up. perhaps to her eventual regret, she says her next words.

“if i tell everyone, she’ll be fucking ruined. she’ll have nobody after this.”

“so?”

“so, stay with me,” she says softly, while, to his disgust, grabbing his hands and pleading with him. “stay with me, and i won’t tell anybody.” she looks as pathetic as a dog right now, and her words make him laugh in her face.

“tell them,” he says.

“w-what?” she sputters.

“tell them all. i want you to tell them how i fucked one of your best friends and got her pregnant. tell them how i fucked her raw in your own bed. go on, i’d love to see their reactions when they find out.”

“you’re… you’re fucking crazy,” she gasps.

“maybe, but not crazy enough to stay with you,” he shrugs. “i got what i wanted, i don’t need you anymore.” for once, she shuts her mouth. the puzzle pieces finally fit together and her jaw drops in awe.

“you did this on purpose?”

“maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” he sneers, and with that, he zips up his pants and pats her cheek. “you were okay in bed, but that’s about it.”

her tears are falling, but that does nothing to mar her beauty. still, his heart remains unfazed.

“when she finds out, she’ll leave you,” she sobs.

“and who will she believe? her ex friend who’s out to get her, or me? the only person she has left? i’d love to see who she believes.” his words leave her in even more tears, but he does nothing to placate her. he just grabs his shit and slams the door behind him.

hana wastes no time in telling your friends about your scandal. your incoming texts range from “what the fuck is wrong with you” to “is it true?” to “you’d better not show your face to us again”.

you attempt to explain yourself, but to no avail. even if hana lied to you first, you committed the ultimate betrayal with a smile on your face. nobody wants to hear your sob story about your forbidden love with beomgyu. nobody, not even your best friend, dares to defend you now.

the one person who’s on your side has been texting you relentlessly, though. beomgyu’s insistence on making sure you’re okay does little to quell the uneasiness in your heart. hana’s words resound in your head. “if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he does to you.” you don’t want to give him that chance, but your resolve is weakening when you feel yourself becoming more and more isolated from the people you used to call your friends.

for days, you don’t leave your house except to go to work. where else can you go? you don’t have anyone to go out with you anymore. still, beomgyu texts and attempts to call you through it all. his messages are all about how much he loves you, how much he misses you, how much he needs you. how much he promises to make things right with you and how you’re the only one he’s wanted all along. more and more, you feel yourself slipping away. even though you never respond, you still sift through his messages and it’s enough to bring smiles, no matter how small, to your face. he loves you, wants you, needs you. who else do you have in your life to say things like that to you?

still, the thought of trusting him scares you to your bones. what if he does the same shit to you? you don’t have a support system anymore. you don’t have anybody to rely on when he inevitably hurts you in the same way. why wouldn't he, after all? you’re no match for the kind of girls who come his way. what happens when he gets sick of you and wants to fuck another girl in your bed? you’re stuck with these thoughts as you nurse a bottle of vodka, alone in your apartment with nobody but yourself. this is what you deserve, you think.

a knock on your door is enough to pull you out of your drunken haze. is it one of your friends? could they have finally gotten over their intial shock and disgust and understood that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did? you stumble to the door and you’re too drunk to even think about checking who it is before desperately swinging open the door. you are not met with the familiar face of one of your friends, however. instead, you see the face of the boy who’s been haunting your dreams for the past few nights.

“beomgyu?” he looks absolutely devastated, eyes reddened and wet with his face ghostly pale. he reeks of alcohol and he stands almost tremblingly. he doesn’t respond to you, just stares at you with the same intensity that entranced you from the very beginning.

“what are you doing here?” you ask.

“can i come in? please?” you’ve never been able to say no to him, and you especially can’t in his current pathetic state. you move from the doorway to allow him access and quietly shut the door behind him.

“what do you want?” you try.

“want you,” he sobs, tears finally flowing from his sad brown eyes. “all i want is you.” your heart aches when you see him like this. you thought hana’s reaction was devastating enough, but he looks absolutely wrecked right now, putting her despair to shame, really.

“i don’t know what to say,” you admit. “we fucked up, plain and simple. and i don’t know how i can trust you after what we did.” you’re not a victim in this, to be clear, but you’re far too vulnerable to accept the heart that he's holding out for you so carelessly.

“i know, and i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. what can i do to make you trust me?” he begs. your already soft heart softens even more at his words, but you have to be realistic.

“i… i don’t think i can. if you had just talked to me in the first place things could've been different,” you reason. this only puts the boy in an even worse state. he’s almost wailing now, and he looks to you for comfort.

“p-please, just please. give me one chance,” he cries, looking absolutely frantic. “i’ll prove it to you, just let me.” he reaches for your face and you didn’t even realize you’re crying until he swipes away your tears. well, you’re already going to hell. what’s the point in atoning for your sins now?

as if he can read your mind, he musters up a shaky smile before leaning in and giving you a chaste kiss. his lips taste salty, but sweet, and he’s kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt before. you almost believe him when he says you’re the only one. almost.

“h-how do i know you’re not going to do the same thing to me?” you ask unsteadily.

“i would never,” he says immediately. “i would never hurt you.” at least, not like this. but you don’t know that yet.

in the weeks following his drunken appearance at your door, being with beomgyu is even better than you thought it would be. it’s like a switch has been turned back on and he’s back to treating you like a princess, almost like the months since your “breakup” never happened. he randomly brings you flowers, showers you with kisses, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you along with declarations of love, which you never directly reciprocate. no matter how well he treats you, though, there’s an underlying sense of unease. you still find it difficult to fully trust him, and he can tell. it’s driving him to the brink of madness trying to come up with ways to show you how much he cares.

you’re in the middle of pensively reevaluating the nature of your relationship with beomgyu for the 100th time when you hear a knock on your door. at this point, you don't even bother checking who it is because you already know it'll be beomgyu. no matter how desperately you wish it were one of your ex-friends, you’re always met with his face, instead. you open the door and you’re shocked, to put it mildly. standing before you is not the beomgyu you know and (probably) love, but hana.

“we need to talk,” she grumbles. almost as if you’re possessed, you let her in without much fuss. is she here to rekindle your friendship? to tell you she’ll forgive you after what you’ve done to her?

“hana, listen i’m so incredibly sor—”

“save it,” she says, lifting her hand. “i’m only here ‘cause i have something i need to say to you. it took me weeks to come here because i don’t even wanna look at you.” you gulp and nod, genuinely anxious as to what she has in store for you.

“i’m just going to tell you straight up. beomgyu’s not who you think he is,” she deadpans.

“w-what do you mean?” if she’s talking about how he’ll eventually betray you, you’ve already thought of that. why she thinks this is news to you, you don’t know.

“listen to me, he planned this whole fucking thing.” what could she possibly mean by that? he planned to get caught by her? that doesn’t even make sense. “i told him i’d be home the night that i walked in on you.” your jaw drops in horror, but she continues as if she doesn’t notice.

“i think… i think he heard us over the phone and knew you’d be there before meeting with jay. he told me he wanted our friends to find out and to see who you’d believe if i told you. whether you believe me or not, i really don’t give a fuck, but it’s true. he said he got what he wanted, so he doesn’t need me anymore.” she chokes on her last words and you can't help but feel sorry for her, but that feeling is overshadowed by the feelings of anger towards beomgyu. you don’t think hana would lie about this. she looks so flustered and heartbroken, you don’t believe for a second that she’s lying just to rile you up. before you can reply, the door opens and beomgyu’s figure appears in your doorway. he has a smile on his face, but it drops lightning fast when he sees who’s standing there.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he says with a scowl.

“i’m on my way out,” hana mumbles, pushing past him. he doesn’t even attempt to stop her. he registers the mixed emotions on your face and he can guess what she said to you without much effort.

“let me explain,” he says lowly, already heading towards you to placate you like you’re some sort of wild animal he has to coax. and you’re so angry, you might as well be.

“explain what? that you ruined my fucking life?” you spit. he flinches at your tone, even more so at your next words. “what i don’t understand is why? is my life a fucking game to you?” his face crumbles at this.

“n-no! never!” he sputters.

“then what is this? what’s your reason for planning for hana to walk in us? is this a kink or something?” he shakes his head frantically.

“you don’t understand, i just wanted it to be us,” he pleads. “i don’t like them. they’ll just try to take you away from me.”

“take me away from you? beomgyu, i’m not some fucking toy. i’m a person. a person whose life you fucking ruined for no reason!” you exclaim. you’re so frustrated you could cry, so you do. does he not realize how badly he fucked you over? “you promised you’d never hurt me,” you sob.

“i-i did it for us! they wouldn’t care about how we feel… they’d just take hana’s side without even thinking about it!” he argues, grabbing your hands. you want to pull away, but if you do, that means you’ll be completely alone.

“you didn’t even give them a chance,” you reason. “now it’s really over,” you say between sobs. “i… i could’ve talked to them, but you ruined it!”

“i just want you all to myself, is that so bad?” he asks, as if he genuinely can't understand why you’re so upset. he’s actually sick in the head.

“why?!” you ask again, ripping your hands from his grasp.

“because i love you,” he says desperately. “i just love you so much. i’m sorry, i’ll never do anything like this again,” he promises.

“yeah, you won’t,” you reply bitterly. “because i won’t give you that chance.”

“w-what do you mean?” he asks, lips trembling and eyes red.

“i’m not doing this with you anymore. this whole thing was doomed from the start,” you reply firmly. he shakes his head as if denying it with fervor will undo what you’ve said, tears now flowing freely from his reddened eyes.

“no, p-please,” he cries. “i only did it because i love you so much. ever since i first saw you, i only ever wanted to be with you. i… i know i fucked up, but it was the only way. believe me, please.” your already soft heart is softening even more as you listen to the desperation in his voice. he sounds so lost and scared, as if he really doesn’t know what he’ll do if you tell him no. you briefly wonder if he’s ever heard the words: “no, beomgyu. you’ve gone too far this time.” but as you watch him come undone before you, you don’t think you’ll be able to be the one who tells him no, anyway.

“i’m giving you one, and i mean one, last chance. if you fuck up this time, i promise you, you’ll never see me again,” you declare. you don't know what you’re expecting, really, but the sight of even more tears streaming down his face is not it. he grabs you and pulls you in his warm and trembling embrace.

“th-thank you,” he cries. “you won’t regret this.”

“i’d better not,” you mumble. even if you do, you can’t deny the way your heart skips a beat at his pure, unadulterated need for you. even if you do come to regret it, it’s impossible to look at him right now and say he’s not being sincere. he pulls away from you and hurriedly captures your mouth, and as if your next words will take back what you said, he seals them in your throat before you can manage to get anything more out. as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel something hard and angry poking into your stomach.

“already?” you tease. he actually blushes at this.

“can’t help it. need you,” he replies sheepishly.

“you need me, huh? is that why you’ve been so bad?” you ask, palming him deliciously through his pants.

“n-not bad! just love you so much, couldn’t stop myself.” your temper actually flares a little at this. you palm him more harshly and his breath catches when you do.

“really? but you’ve been so bad, i don’t think you deserve me,” you say menacingly, pulling your hand away. he audibly whimpers at this.

“no, no, no, please! i’ll be good from now on,” he pleads as he grabs your hand and begins to snake it under the waistband of his pants. you let him, but you don’t take his hardened length into your hand like you usually would. instead, you tease the sensitive area around it, even going so far as to ghost your fingers over his balls, but you conveniently avoid giving him any sort of friction or attention, so he’s gasping when you give him a mean and unexpected tug.

“p-please stop teasing me,” he cries, eyes so beautiful and watery. “i know i’ve been bad, but i can make you feel so good.” he’s right, in a way. you’ve never and will never feel as good as you do when beomgyu pumps into you and shoots his hot load in your pussy, but he’s deranged if he thinks you’ll let him have you so easily tonight. not after what he’s done.

“hmm, i’m not so sure about that,” you hum. you lead him to your bedroom as if he’s hypnotized. you haven’t even let him enter you yet, if you’re going to let him do so at all, but he’s already acting like he’s drunk on you.

“strip,” you command simply. without any questions or doubts, he eagerly takes off his hoodie and shoves his pants down, stepping out of them and closer to you. it’s sickeningly sweet to see how possessed he is by you. he tries to take your own clothes off, but you smack his hand away.

“bad boy,” you say, and he whines like a dog. “lay down.” he does what you say, lying completely exposed on your bed as he gives a few pulls on his throbbing cock. “stop fucking touching yourself or you’re not getting anything from me,” you add, and he whines even louder.

“please touch me,” he begs, cock standing all red and weeping.

“you don’t deserve it,” you shrug. you take off your pants and he leches at the image of your pussy dripping wet for him, and so soon. all he can think about is how warm it is and how fervently he wants to be in it. he thinks you’re going to sit on his cock, because that would be the most natural course of action, but all you do is lay next to him and pull something out of your nightstand drawer. a vibrator. are you fucking serious?

“no!” he begs, already knowing how this is going to go.

“you can take what you get from me or you can beat it,” you bite back. that shuts him up. he’s biting his lip, trying not to get scolded again, but he can’t help but whine again when you spread your legs and turn your vibrator on.

“ah,” you moan as the rubber tip hits your clit. “feels so good.”

“i’d feel better,” he insists, eyes widened and desperate like a madman.

“touch yourself,” you say in response. “i'm not touching that dirty cock of yours, so take care of it yourself.” he doesn’t need to be told twice. he immediately spits on his hand and begins to wildly jerk his weeping cock. he whines at the friction. you, however, are so lost in the feeling of the vibrations pulsating throughout your pussy, you couldn’t seem to care less about what he does. this only makes him whine even louder. he’s experiencing pleasure, sure, but the sounds coming from him are exaggerated and theatrical. he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. he just wants you to look at him, is that too much to ask?

you open your eyes at his petulant noise and say your next words so quietly, if he wasn’t paying more attention, he’d miss them. “kiss me.” so he does. the kiss is filthy and nothing more than the tangling of tongues, but that combined with the stimulation on your poor pussy is enough to make you near the edge.

beomgyu can tell you’re close, and his kisses become even more heated as he abuses his cock under his hand. he’s moaning into your mouth, showing you, in no uncertain terms, just how badly he wants to be in you instead.

“let me do it,” he begs. “come around me, instead. it’ll feel so much better.” his dirty words break you out of your trance and you annoyedly shut the vibrator off while tossing it god knows where. you tear his hand away from his cock and mount him, teasingly rubbing yourself against him, but refusing to put it in. he whines and pouts, but you’re far too busy trying to get yourself off to appease him. then, as if he’s possessed, he raises his hips and his tip catches on your entrance. you both gasp at his shallow intrusion.

“p-please sit on it, it hurts,” he asks rather pathetically.

“i can’t, beomie. you haven’t even fingered me yet — you’ll break me in half,” you say provocatively. he whimpers at the imagery. “and you've been so bad, how can i let you get what you want? you’ll never learn if i do that.”

“i’ve learned! i promise, i’ve learned! just, please, help me,” he cries, bucking his hips up and holding your waist so hard you’ll know he’ll leave bruises.

“mmm, i don’t knowwww,” you drawl.

“please!” and with that, you angle your hips and begin to sink on his thick length. the stretch burns and you can’t help but cry out as you feel your pussy enveloping every inch of him mercilessly. he’s in tears when he feels you throbbing around him, pussy stretching to accommodate how big he is. when you finally, finally take him all in, he can’t help but begin to fuck into you wantonly.

“b-beomie, slow down!”

“c-can’t! feels so good,” he says, tears streaming down his pretty face. he grabs your waist even tighter and flips you around so you’re lying beneath him. his cock continues to hammer into you and you’re seeing stars. his mouth is open, drool pooling out of the corners of his lips, and he’s moaning out your name like a prayer.

“pussy so good, so perfect,” he babbles. “missed this. missed feeling you like this.”

“i missed it too,” you admit.

“wanted you, wanted you for so long,” he continues. you don’t even think he knows what he’s saying, but you can tell he means every word. he reaches to your stomach and presses down where his cock is ramming into you. your eyes roll back at the pleasure that comes with the pressure.

“my baby could be in here,” he muses. “our baby.” this should scare you into sobriety, but it does nothing of the sort. you find yourself tightening even further at the thought of him breeding you like a bitch.

“i’ll take care of you, i swear,” he says as he thrusts so hard your head nearly meets the headboard. “i’ll give you everything you need. sh-shit, baby, wanna fill you up so good you feel me for days,” those words in addition to his sloppy thrusts are what send you over the edge. you clench around him and he hisses at how you’re even tighter than usual. you feel his thrusts become even more sporadic and he’s emptying himself into you unceremoniously. as he softens, he pulls out and you wince at the feeling. to your surprise, he moves down to your pussy and begins to lap up all of the cum like a starving animal. then, he pulls you in for one last nasty kiss.

you don’t know if you necessarily trust beomgyu, but it’s hard not to at least try to when he basically prostrates himself in front of you on a daily basis. he lets you walk all over him, really. if you call him, he comes running. if you’re mad or upset, he soothes you. when you’re being unreasonable, he reasons, anyway. you still haven’t heard from your friends, but you’re starting to accept the fact that you never will. he introduces you to his friends, and surprisingly, they actually welcome you with open arms. apparently, they didn’t like hana very much and knew beomgyu always had a thing for you. you’re not sure how to feel about that, but you’re flattered, nonetheless.

you call beomgyu crazy, and maybe he is, but he always says it's because he's crazy in love with you. you want to playfully smack him when he says such cheesy words, but you're starting to really believe him.

#supermodel #niningtori #beomgyu smut #beomgyu angst #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt angst #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard hours #mdni #nini's hard hours

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zepskies · 3 months ago

Text

Lost on You - Part 7

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Supe!Reader

Summary: 1983 is a big year for you. You’re finally chosen to join the ranks of Payback, led by the most (in)famous supe in the world: Soldier Boy. He’ll never admit that he’s trying his damndest to figure you out. You’ll never admit that he’s actually growing on you. But the problem with this game is deciding who’s the predator, and who is prey.

AN: Consequences of the game.

Word Count: 5.2K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! More smut, show level debauchery, implied threesome, drug use, some light, some dark, violence and angst. (We're diving into some canon S3 content.)

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Part 7: Welcome to the Jungle

“Yes, well, Countess and I decided to end our relationship shortly after we wrapped on Red Thunder,” Ben explained to Jason Carver.

A little damage control could go a long way, coming from Soldier Boy himself. Vought News was one of the most convenient outlets for it.

“I know there’s been a lot of talk, but it was a mutual decision,” Ben said. “We still have a lot of love for each other. It just wasn’t working out.”

“Well, it sounds like it ended on good terms then,” said Jason.

“Yeah, so anyone who wants to run their mouth about it can come straight to me,” Ben said, with a stern set to his brows as he looked into the camera.

Jason uttered a slightly nervous laugh. “Well, I don’t think there’s anyone that brave.”

Ben shot him a smile. “Let’s hope not.”

“But are the rumors true? There seem to be some sparks between you and Sirena.”

Ben relaxed his posture a little, all while calm and controlled in his seat.

“She’s a special woman,” he admitted, with an incline of his head. “I can’t deny, we have…a connection.”

“Wow. You two have really hit it off since she joined the team,” Jason observed.

“Well, you know how it is, Jason,” Ben said. He glanced over and found you in the dark, standing next to a PA. You smiled.

“I’ve always been a man who knows what he wants,” he said.

“Shit,” Ben gritted out, his eyes rolling shut.

His gloved hand was fisted in your hair as you showed your gratefulness—on your knees, sucking him off from base to tip. He had to brace himself against the wall of one the makeup trailer. You two hadn’t even left the studio of Vought News when you took his hand and led him in here with a sensuous smile and an unspoken promise.

“You sure do have a talented fucking mouth,” he said with a smirk.

You hummed around his cock in response while your lips and tongue continued to work him over. The sensation nearly made his eyes cross. His blunt fingers bit into the wall, creating divots there and stirring up paint and plaster dust.

But if he could still talk, you weren’t satisfied. You squeezed his ass through his uniform pants, pulling him even closer. His hips rocked forward, forcing you to take him deeper until his cock hit the back of your throat.

You gagged for a moment, but you took a breath through your nose to steady yourself, blinking through the sting of involuntary tears in your eyes. Then you slid your lips back down him again. This time you relaxed the back of your throat and managed to take him fully without gagging as much.

His grip was getting tighter in your hair as muttered curses fell from his lips. You winced, but you kept going. You could feel him getting close; his thighs locked with strain, and his cock throbbed a warning in your mouth.

A cross between a grunt and a shout escaped him along with his release. You swallowed up as much of his spend as you could, but it still dribbled from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. You eventually released him with a soft pop, panting heavily.

He had to catch his breath as well while he leaned against the wall. His fingers untightened from your hair, petting your head instead.

“Good girl. Jesus,” he said shallowly.

You smiled and helped yourself off the floor. You grabbed a hand towel from one of the makeup artist stations and wiped your face and neck, ruined lipstick and all. Ben was trying to play off his recovery when you turned back to him.

His gaze on you was satisfied, and yet, still simmering with heat. He grabbed your arm and guided you against the wall. He caged you there with his hands molded to the curve of your waist. His touch was warm even through your leather suit.

“Countess may have some fireballs for me in my future,” you remarked.

Ben snorted dismissively. “Don’t worry about her.”

You weren’t so sure. She probably hadn’t done anything publicly to you yet because she was afraid of Ben. At this point, having him in your corner was protection—both for your career and for yourself.

You tipped your face up at him with a more playful smile.

“You really think I’m special?” you teased.

Ben chuckled through his nose. “You’re fucking something, all right.”

His tone was laced with amusement, but you saw the edge of it in his eyes, and you felt it with your abilities. You sensed the sincerity in him, tinged with…fondness, maybe? Even for you, it was hard to parse out.

It was definitely something beyond lust. Was he even capable of something more?

And is that what you want?

He gave you one last kiss, distracting you from that troubling thought. His lips moved slowly against yours for a change. It was affectionate, as he cupped your cheek.

“Come see me tonight,” he said when he finally pulled away. He gave you a slap on the ass to punctuate his request. Your hand wrapped around his forearm before he could turn away.

“How about a change of scenery? You could come to my place,” you suggested. He didn’t look enthused.

“Come on, I’ll even cook for you,” you added.

Ben raised a brow. “You cook?”

“Well, I’m no Martha Stewart, but I can whip up something good.”

Your smile was a tease as you slipped by him. You stopped in front of the mirror to fix your hair and lipstick. You briefly met Ben’s gaze in the mirror’s reflection. His brow was quirked. Was he waiting for you or something?

“What? I can’t go out looking like this,” you said.

At that, Ben smirked. He came up behind you and grasped your hips where you were bent over slightly. He pressed into your ass from behind, prompting you to straighten up and lean back against his chest. You couldn’t help a smile of amusement. Did this man ever get tired of fucking?

To your surprise though, he just pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His eyes once again met yours in the mirror.

“I think you’re a fucking sight,” he said, picking a bit of his spend out of your hair.

You bit your lip out of embarrassment, but you couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped you.

It made him smile.

It was another facet of your evolving plan. Now that you had Ben in hand, you needed to keep his attention. A man like him appreciated certain values, and you had a feeling a woman who could cook was one of them.

It took some trial and error and a lot of praying, but you managed to make a decent roasted chicken. Ben seemed impressed enough. He ate half of the entire bird by himself, along with two helpings of mashed potatoes with gravy, even the parmesan broccoli. But as always, you two couldn’t seem to get through dessert.

Or rather, he took the cheesecake you bought into your bed and licked the accompanying raspberry syrup off your body. By the end, you were a sticky, sated mess (as usual). The bedsheets were a disaster, but you knew what you’d been getting into when you invited this man over. You had an extra set of clean sheets waiting in your dresser.

Ben smoked a large blunt afterwards, his eyes half-lidded as he drifted towards dozing off. When you noticed his eyes closing, a small alarm went off in your mind. You leaned over and stroked his arm.

“My bed doesn’t really compare with yours, does it?” you said. Which was true. His was even more plush and soft than yours. Not to mention, his bed was a California King. Yours was a modest queen-sized.

He shrugged and blew out smoke. “‘S not so bad.”

He dabbed his blunt in the ashtray and put it out for now. He raised his arms and folded them behind his head. He groaned and settled in against your pillows. You hid your wary frown.

Shit, maybe you’d miscalculated by inviting him over. You hadn’t thought he’d actually want to stay the night.

“Nooo, don’t fall asleep,” you playfully whined. You rolled over onto his chest and laid kisses along his jaw. “Why don’t we go take a walk or something? Go on a little adventure.”

Ben cracked an eye open at you, but he soon closed it again. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Come on, super-man. Don’t tell me you’re tired already,” you goaded.

At that, Ben’s eyes opened, and he frowned at you.

“You just stuffed me full of food like it’s Thanksgiving—”

“You’re the one who went for seconds. And thirds, mind you.”

“Gave me a fucking workout—”

“Which you started.”

“I may be the strongest man on Earth, but I still need to recharge every now and then,” he said gruffly. “Keep sassing me though. When I wake up, you might just find yourself bent over my knee.”

You tried not to smile. Sometimes his grumpiness was just too amusing. It didn’t seem like he was going to get out of your bed though.

Sighing in defeat, you got up and tugged at the ruined sheets he was resting on.

“Come on, at least let me change these.”

With an annoyed huff, Ben got up just long enough for you to remake the bed. He hunkered back down before you were done, making it harder for you to lay down the last one correctly, but you rolled your eyes and gave up, tossing the sheet half-made over his bare legs.

You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up. Hopefully by the time you came back, he’d be asleep. You’d make your way to the couch with a spare comforter and sleep there.

It might’ve seemed strange, but you had never actually slept with him in the same bed. It wasn’t personal. You’d made it a habit to always sleep alone.

So after a quick shower, brushing your teeth, and slipping on an old shirt to sleep in, you padded quietly back into your bedroom. Sure enough, Ben looked to be fast asleep. He laid on his back with an arm curled over his stomach. Like this, he looked peaceful. Even docile.

The thought made you smirk as you went to grab a spare blanket from your closet. You draped it over your arm and went to your nightstand next. You just wanted to grab the book you’d been reading from the top drawer. You did so very carefully, knowing Ben’s hearing was sharp.

Once you’d successfully retrieved the book and slowly shut the drawer, you turned to head for the door. A hand shot out and grabbed your elbow. You gasped and jolted slightly, but of course it was just Ben. His fingers wrapped around your arm. His eyes were open, barely.

“Where’re you going?” he rumbled.

“Um, just to go to the couch and read for a bit,” you lied on the fly. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

With a dismissive huff, he tugged you back and hauled you effortlessly back into the bed. You yelped in surprise. The book went tumbling off the side of the bed while the extra blanket got coiled between your legs. That strong arm curled around your waist. Possessive.

You turned your head across Ben’s shoulder and stared at his face. He shot you a smirk, then closed his eyes. His chest moved with his deeper breath, as it evened out in sleep.

You frowned. The man could be demanding, sure, but you never expected him to act this way. It did cause a flutter of something to rise in your belly. Something warm, and equally unexpected.

You sighed and allowed yourself to relax against him. You rested your eyes. Just for a little while, you told yourself. Then you’d try to extricate yourself.

Somehow, you never got around to it.

You woke in the morning to something warm and firm under your cheek. Your eyes slid open, and you were met with the bare chest of your lover. He was awake, sitting up against the headboard as he sipped at a mug of coffee. He glanced at you with a subtle smile pulling at his lips.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” he said.

You smiled sleepily. Yawning, you turned and curled yourself into him without really thinking about it. But then it hit you, how intimate this was…and how much that conflicted you inside.

You eased away from him with a faked yawn, stretching your limbs, and gaining at least a few inches between you. Ben watched you do it with a certain glint of knowing in his eyes.

“You moan in your sleep,” he remarked idly.

You shot him a look of surprise. “I do not.”

“Yeah, you do. I fucking heard you,” he said. His lips pulled at a smirk. He set his coffee down and rolled over, trapping you underneath him. He thumbed at your chin. “Here I am thinking, ‘This dirty little girl. Didn’t get enough last night, did she?’”

You bit the inside of your lip against a smile. Your face warmed with a blush.

“Is that why you don’t want me in your bed?” he asked. “You embarrassed, sweetheart?”

At that, you frowned. “No, it’s not…”

“Because believe me, I’ve seen weirder shit,” he said. “There was one girl who sleepwalked into my fucking closet. That one was a headscratcher… Aw hell, one girl even took a shit in my bed.”

You gaped. “Seriously?”

He grimaced at the memory. “And tried to blame her Pomeranian. Think I don’t know a human shit when I see one?”

You blinked in bewilderment and disgust. “Dear Lord.”

Ben stroked your side.

“So you got nothing to worry about,” he said, a slow grin curving his lips. “Some little sex noises don’t bother me.”

You laughed a little, but then you chewed on your lower lip, looking up at him. You didn’t know what compelled you to be honest in that moment.

“It’s not that, it’s just…ever since I got my powers, I’ve felt safest sleeping alone,” you said.

Ben’s amusement faded. “Why’s that?”

“I’m not like you,” you admitted, touching his chin with your fingertip. “When I’m asleep, I’m vulnerable, just like everybody else.”

He seemed to consider what you were saying with furrowed brows. You itched to sweep his hair away from his eyes, but you kept your hands to yourself.

“Well, you’re safe with me,” he said eventually.

You tilt your head at him. You wondered if he really meant that, or if it was just part of the façade of “charm” he was trying to portray. Even with your skin touching his, you couldn’t quite read his heart to parse that one out.

You had to pull back on the connection before he realized that you were trying…

But then again, maybe it was you who didn’t want to know for sure.

Christmas came around sooner than you expected. This time of year was heavy on your heart, after your mom’s death.

“I’ll be back before New Year’s,” you said, leaning up to give Ben a kiss. You were in his apartment saying goodbye. His personal chef was in the kitchen cooking up something that smelled amazing, but you had to leave. You had to pick up your father in Brooklyn and drive both of you over to your brother’s house in Queens.

“What’s the winter like in Indiana?” Ben asked in curiosity.

You blinked. Fuck if you knew, but he still thought you were a smalltown girl from the boonies and the cornfields.

“Um…cold. Snowy. Same as here, basically, but the wind isn’t going to cut through your bones when you turn a corner around a skyscraper,” you said.

Ben gave a mild shrug in response. Like he was ever going to go to Indiana.

“Well, gotta go catch my flight,” you fibbed, but you grew curious about something as you peered up at him. “What’re you doing for the holidays? Seeing family, or…”

Again, he shrugged. “Nah, I’ll be here. I don’t get into that corny festive bullshit.”

You frowned. Something told you it wasn’t just that he didn’t do Christmas. He didn’t seem to have any family, or friends outside of Vought, for that matter. If you can count any of those people friends.

Was he really just going to be here all alone until New Year’s Eve?

Perhaps for the first time, you felt a bit bad for him. You knew you couldn’t invite him over for your holiday plans, however.

So you gave him another kiss goodbye, and you left.

You returned in time for Vought’s annual New Year’s Eve bash. According to Tommy and Tessa, it was legendary. First, there was a huge banquet held for all the big wigs and the investors and the press. That was just to load up on good food and champagne.

The real party was the afterparty, made up almost exclusively by supes employed by Vought—from all across the country. Of course, Payback were the guests of honor, with Soldier Boy leading the pack on free booze and lines of drugs smoked or snorted across most available surfaces.

You felt overwhelmed by all of it at first. In fact, you almost left the party. But then you saw a very drunk Countess in a little red cocktail dress, offering Ben to take a shot of tequila out of her mouth. It stirred irritation in your gut.

You grabbed the nearest bottle of alcohol, went over to them, and subtly touched Countess’s bare shoulder.

Give that shot to Tommy, you compelled her.

With that small trill of your power, Countess stood straighter and beelined straight for Tommy. She grabbed him by the back of his head and surprised him with a deep tequila kiss.

Gross.

You grimaced at the sight, but when you looked back at Ben, he was smirking in amusement. He slid an arm around your waist and spoke closely in your ear.

“Let’s have some fun.”

The next morning, you sat up in bed with a groan. Your head pounded with a horrible hangover of at least three different substances. You wiped the remnants of powder from your itchy nose. And you were naked.

You drew the sheets to cover up to your breasts, which accidentally pulled the covers off another warm body beside you—a mystery woman. Someone you vaguely recognized as another supe from the party. She woke with a wince.

“Ooh, fuck, where’s the bathroom?” she asked. You were bleary-eyed, but you managed to point over to the left. She nodded and slowly got out of bed.

You wiped at your face and realized that Ben was there as well. It was his bed, after all.

He was slowly waking up too, looking more than a little fucked up himself. You groaned and slid under his arm, resting your head against his chest. Mistakes had been made, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give a shit.

Way to ring in 1984.

There was a reason you didn’t like group training sessions. You watched with a grimace from your corner of the matt, along with the TNT Twins. For sure, they did not want to be next in the ring with Ben. His idea of training wasn’t very…constructive.

“Lighten up, Gunpowder. I’m just playing around,” Ben said, as Countess helped the younger man off the floor in concern. His eye was already swelling up, along with his bloody lip. He was too exhausted to even get off the mat. You’d tried stopping Ben fifteen minutes ago, but he hadn’t budged.

He now rolled his eyes and walked away from Gunpowder, waving a dismissive hand. “You fucking pussy.”

Your brows furrowed with your frown. You were cautious as you approached him again and lightly touched his arm.

“Was that really necessary?” you asked. “Ben, he’s only eighteen.”

He shot you a stern look.

“Don’t fucking start with me.”

He was definitely tougher on the men than he was on you or Countess, but still, it wasn’t easy to watch. This was the side of him you didn’t often see when you were alone with him. With you, he was still crass and arrogant, but sometimes, his harder edges softened the slightest bit.

In front of the team, he was Soldier Boy. He could be callous, and even cruel. It reminded you of every mission you went on together; every brutal, fatal move against the “bad guys,” and every innocent life that got caught in the crossfire.

The double doors to the gym opened, and in came Black Noir. You grew concerned, as you sensed anger coming off of him in waves.

“You’re late,” Ben said, crossing his arms. “We started at 3.”

“I really wanted that movie,” said Noir.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“I just got off the phone with my manager,” Noir continued. “It’s a no-go on Beverly Hills Cop.”

“Oh, that,” Ben said, with a roll of his eyes. Your own widened a fraction.

Noir stepped forward, his hands balling into fists. “I was born to play Axel Foley. Why would you say all those horrible things about me to Don Simpson?”

Your mouth fell open in shock. Don Simpson was a big deal. He’d produced Flashdance just last year.

“Jesus, Ben. Really?” you said.

“Zip it, Sirena,” Ben snapped. Your mouth fell shut, even as you glared at him. He rarely called you by your supe name behind Vought’s closed doors.

“The guy’s supposed to be funny,” said Ben. He pointed back at Noir. “You’re. Not. Funny.”

“Well, I…could’ve been,” Noir said, a little weakly.

If there was one thing Ben couldn’t stand, it was a weak spine.

“You’re not good enough!” he barked. “Now shut your cockhole, and get to work.”

“But—” The moment Noir grabbed the other man’s shoulder, you knew it was going to be bad.

Ben turned and threw a swift punch that would’ve rattled any supe’s spine, even if they did have super strength. It wasn’t even a contest. He beat Noir down bloody on the mats, no matter what you or the others shouted out.

You were horrified, and you couldn’t stand by and watch anymore. You hurried over and tried to touch Ben’s arm. Maybe you could calm him down.

“Ben, stop! He’s had enough—”

He meant to just rip his arm out of your grasp. Maybe he’d shove you out of the way, out of his way. But the momentum of it sent you to the floor, with the wind knocked out of you.

It managed to briefly cut through his anger. He paused, seeing the shock and the stricken look on your face. You were looking at him like he was some kind of animal.

Deep down, he felt like one too. He just couldn’t allow himself to show it.

“That’s what happens when you don’t stay the fuck out of the way,” he growled.

You blinked wide as wet tears gathered in your lashes. It struck a cacophonous chord inside him, down to his bones.

He turned away from you to glare down at Black Noir. This was his fucking fault.

“You think you can be me?” Ben sneered. “You’re not a movie star. You’re not shit. I see you getting outta line again, trying to ‘move on up,’ I will put you in the fucking ground. Understood?”

Noir, fucking pussy that he was, stayed there on the ground covered in his own blood. By the time Ben turned back to where you’d fallen, you were no longer there.

You were gone.

You left the gym in tears. You pulled a staff member aside and let her know that Black Noir and Gunpowder were going to need medical attention.

“Are you okay?” she asked in concern. “Do you need—”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, even though you were still crying. It was more embarrassment at this point. You knew what Ben was from the very beginning. You’d just never thought he would…

Sucking in one deep breath, you steeled yourself. You wiped your face dry and forced your expression to ease into nothing. Blankness.

Show them what you want them to see.

He tried to come see you that night, but you wouldn’t let him into your apartment.

He sent flowers—some bullshit roses, with an apology written on the card.

I'm sorry.

You threw them in the trash.

You were done playing this game. It wasn’t worth it.

He wasn’t worth it…

Or so you felt, for the first few days. You began to wonder just how much shit Countess had to put up with for the years that she was with him. You wondered if he’d ever hit her.

You replayed that moment over and over in your mind. You knew if you hadn’t intervened, Ben wouldn’t have shoved you. He hadn’t truly meant to, you thought. With his strength, you were lucky it hadn’t been worse.

He didn’t mean it, you tried to rationalize. Even as you tried not to think about Gunpowder, or Noir, bloody on the floor.

Because at the end of the day, being with Ben was still good for your career, and if you kept denying him like this, he’d likely just go back to Countess.

So, even though it took a huge chunk out of your pride, you ventured to the elevators and up to the penthouse suite. By now, your feet knew this path by heart, even if your stomach churned with unease.

You stood in front of Ben’s door for a minute, just thinking. You knew this was the lowest you’d ever been. Was your career really worth debasing yourself like this?

Well, your question was soon answered when the door swung open. You hastily stepped back as a trio of smiling, giggling women came out from the apartment, all of them high-heeled and scantily dressed. Behind them was Ben in a black silk robe. His hair was a mess, and he had that post-nut look on his face, along with a layer of drying sweat. They all stunk like weed and sex.

Ben paused in the doorway when he saw you. His amusement faded. You let the girls slip past you without comment. Then you crossed your arms and looked up at him flatly.

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. At least, nothing good.

“Hey,” he said.

You nodded. “Right.”

You turned from him and started walking down the hall the way you came, but Ben reached out fast and grabbed your wrist.

“All right, look—”

He turned you around, only stopping short when you gasped, your eyes glowing with thinly veiled power on reflex.

“Let go of me,” you demanded. Your tone was firm, but you both heard the fear in your voice. His jaw clenched.

It seemed Ben did have a sliver of a heart somewhere inside his chest, because he let you go. You continued on your way, scrubbing furiously at the sting in your eyes.

“Dad, I just…I don’t think I can do this anymore,” you confessed. You were sitting on the edge of your bed with your head in your hands. You didn’t want to burden your brother, who had his own family, his own problems. So you called your dad first. Tears slipped down your cheeks and bled into your jeans.

“I think I need to come home,” you sniffed.

“Aw, honey. I’m sorry to hear you’re having such a hard time,” he said. “But you knew it was going to be difficult. You’ve been doing so well too.”

“I know, but—”

“And your mom’s medical bills might be taken care of, but I’ve still got the house to pay off. If it wasn’t for my back, I’d be out there working two and three jobs like I used to, but you know, I just can’t do it anymore.”

You rubbed at your tired, bleary eyes and sighed.

“Yeah. Okay, I know,” you said. “I’m going to help you, don’t worry.”

“So you’re gonna stay right? You’re going to work it out with Soldier Boy? You two do look good together, I’ve gotta say. What happened exactly? You didn’t uh, really explain that part.”

Your lower lip trembled. “Actually, Dad, I’m getting a page. Let me call you back later, okay?”

“Oh. Well, okay, sweetheart. I’m here for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Your next conversation was in Arthur Cohen’s office. You’d marched in while he was on the phone and said:

“I’m quitting the team.”

Arthur, professional that he was, gave you one look before he told whoever was on the other line that he’d call them back in a minute. Then he turned to you with his full attention, folding his hands on his desk. His many gold and silver rings shone in the lamplight.

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” he asked. As if to say, Did I just hear you correctly?

You remained firm. “I want out of my contract. I’m quitting Payback.”

Arthur needed a beat on that one. “…Ah. I see.”

He held out a hand to one of the chairs in front of his desk.

“Please,” he gestured. You reluctantly obliged.

“Okay, I understand you’ve been going through some hard times—”

“Do you?” you intoned, tilting your head.

He nodded. “Believe me, I do. The problem is, you’re under a two-year minimum contract. You’re only about a year in. If you want out, no problem. I can do that for you.”

“Good,” you said. “Let’s make it happen.”

He held up a hand. “However. If you back out of this deal, remember that we invested in you. You’ll have to give back the advance we gave you, plus everything we’ve spent on your marketing, your new suit, your training, not to mention that little incident we smoothed over a couple months ago. A lot of lawyers and red tape. It’ll drive ya nuts…but it all adds up, unfortunately.”

Fuck. It hit you almost like a physical blow, a deep churning in your stomach. What kind of soul-sucking contract had you signed? Had you even read the fine print on that one?

For a long moment, you stared at Arthur’s desk in silence, to a point where he began to fidget slightly. You raised your head.

“All right,” you said, with a perfect smile. “I understand.”

Then you got up and left.

Arthur heaved a breath of relief. Fucking supes.

His door opened again, but to Stan Edgar. Arthur still didn’t know what to make of this guy. There was something about his calm, unfazed demeanor that Arthur didn’t trust.

“Sure, screw my lunch break. What can I do for ya?” he drawled.

Stan raised a brow and handed a thick file to him.

“I just got off the phone with Director Kasey from the CIA,” he said. “We’re approved for Nicaragua.”

AN: 🫣 Ooh, don't hate me loll. It's gonna get worse before it gets better. I did warn about morally charcoal characters in this series, especially Ben himself. (He's got a lot to learn, and so does Sirena, for that matter.)

And now, we hit another pivotal moment...

Next Time:

“We’re all playing a game, Irving. Just at different levels,” you said. “For example, what were you talking to Stan about?”

You’d seen them a couple of hours ago, hidden behind a fortified stone wall. Noir stopped walking. You were curious enough to follow suit.

“Something that could change everything for all of us,” he said. “You included.”

Your brows knitted together. “What’re you—”

Shots rang out in the clearing.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 8

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justmeinadaze · 5 months ago

Text

Yin and Yang Part 2 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Older Daddy Eddie (Late 30s)/ Older Dom Mr. Harrington (Late 30s) & Younger Fem Sub Y/N (mid 20s), SMUT, voyeurism (technically; Eddie's not far lol), male masturbation, big dick Steve Harrington :P, dirty talk (LOTS of dirty talk), light spanking (once), light choking (once), established relationship mentioned and vaguely touched on between Steddie, aftercare always.

There's no real angst or fluff. Eddie does have a moment where he's worried about Y/N and does a temperature check but other than that nothing big. Just a lot of self indulgent smut. I have some ideas for more parts to expand on all three of them so more for sure because I am a thirsty lady.

Word Count: 4973

Part 1 here/ Donate to Me :)

It had been a little over three hours since you and your boyfriend had arrived at his best friend’s house and had yet to run into the host at all. To be fair, Steve Harrington’s house was much larger than even Eddie’s but the man told you he didn’t need a lot of space having grown up in a trailer.

The party he had invited you both to was in full swing with guests running wild knowing they could leave any mess since they didn’t live here. People everywhere were lip locked with a significant other as hands roamed in places that were meant to be private. Drunk hooligans were screaming and shouting, some happy and others angry.

A few guests like the man you loved were calmly talking shop as you remained at his side. You’d be lying however if you said you weren’t a little…bored.

“Eddie, Chemical Waste is a great band with a magnificent drummer but I don’t see how you’re going to get the general public to attach to them the way they did Corroded Coffin.”, a man in a suit practically whined making even you cringe.

“And that’s why I bring in more money than you, Jesse. I don’t take good sounds for granted especially where a rock band fits in any aspect of life.”

“Pfft please! It’s not like you can get in the mood to metal.”

“Hm. Well, you’re definitely not fucking any woman right then.”, Eddie replied cheekily as he glanced your way. “Are you alright?”, he asked, noticing your antsy demeanor.

“Yeah, baby. I’m going to go outside for a bit and get some air.”

“I’ll come with you—”

“No, Eddie. It’s alright. I won’t be long.”

“Y/N, I don’t think you should be wondering around here alone.” When you sigh and roll your eyes, his own irises shift into that particular dark look you had come to know very well. Taking a step closer to you, he lowered his voice so only you would be able to hear. “Do I need to scold you here in front of all these people, little girl? Is that the first impression you want to make?”

“No.”

“No, what?”

“No, Daddy.”

His chocolate eyes flick to the balcony patio outside before sighing heavily himself.

“Go out that door but don’t go where I can’t see you.”

“Okay…”, you reply but when you start to walk away, Eddie grabs your wrist, pulling you to his chest and lightly kisses your lips making you smile. “I love you.”

“I love you to.”

***

Leaning against the railing, you took in the city around you. Being with a famous music producer allowed you to see parts of the world you never thought you’d get to experience even just in the town you were from. Coming from a small area with very little money, you were barely able to cross the street let alone a state line to see new things.

You never took for granted the sights and places Eddie took you to even if it was just the inside of hotel room for a lay over to the next place. The first time he flew you somewhere, you cried, fearing you were taking advantage him.

“Baby, it’s ok. I like taking you on trips like this and seeing you have fun.”

“I just don’t want you to feel like this is the only reason I’m with you.”

Eddie chuckles at your statement as if it’s the cutest thing he’s ever heard and pulls you into his embrace.

“The fact that you’re worried about that tells me you’re different than the other people I’ve met. No one even cares enough to be concerned about that kind of thing.”

“Does Eddie know you’re out here all by your lonesome?” You jump at the sound of the man’s voice who immediately throws up his hands in surrender. “I’m so sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to startle you. To be honest, I thought you were just some woman who snuck in because I didn’t remember inviting someone as gorgeous as you.” He smirked cockily when you blushed, leaning his elbow against the railing.

“Then of course I remembered my best friend was bringing his girl over. Hi, I’m Steve Harrington.”

When he extended his hand to yours, you shook it relaying your name softly as he continued to hold your palm.

“So does he know? Eddie? That you’re out here alone?”

“Of course.”, you grin as your eyes gesture towards your boyfriend whose own eyes met his friends as he smiled.

“Oh, of course.”, he teased as he obnoxiously waved his way. “I’m not going to lie, a part of me was hoping there was a bit of a bad girl in that sexy dress so we could have a bit more fun. Nothing hotter than watching Eddie get tightly wound.”

When your head tilted to the side, he chuckled as he took a sip of the whiskey in his glass.

“I guess he didn’t tell you. That’s alright. Wouldn’t want to overwhelm you when it’s your first time meeting me. I understand that.”

“I wouldn’t get overwhelmed.”

“No? It wouldn’t intimidate you to know that Eddie and I have fucked before?”

Steve’s eyes locked with yours as a steady breath escaped your lips. The action itself didn’t intimidate you but the casual way he was speaking about it as if he was talking about the weather.

“N-No…it doesn’t intimidate me. You’re a lot more forward than he is.”

“Pfft, you’re not wrong.”, he laughs. “I spent most of life being pushed around by my father so I decided when I got my own company I’d never do that again. If I wanted something, I’d say it.”

“He’s teaching me how to do that. I’m not great at that especially when I’m…”

“When you’re what, honey? Tell me.”

“W-When I’m calling him Daddy.”

“You mean when you’re in that little girl headspace?” A bit to aggressively you nod your head making his smile widen as his palm reaches out to caress your cheek. “I can help you with that, pretty girl, if you want me to.”

“Wait.”, you reply suddenly grasping his wrist and his eyes promptly fill with genuine concern. “I just, um, everyone here thinks I’m with Eddie. I mean I am with Eddie but… if people see you touching me like this it could affect his business. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that or anything.”

Again, Steve’s head tilts.

“Huh. You’re more worried about him and how he’ll be perceived than yourself?”

“To an extent. People can think whatever they want independently. You can’t control that but if it interrupts my life or his or even yours…”

For a second, you thought you may have offended him with how his jaw jutted out and he clicked his tongue against his teeth until he started addressing people outside.

“Attention! Everyone listen up! Thank you for coming but I need everyone to leave!” Murmurs and awkward giggles flow through the crowd before he claps his hands and shouts even louder. “You people heard me! Get the fuck out of my house! That’s right, come on now. Oh, I know. You’ll have to get free booze somewhere else.”

Your eyes widen as you power walk to your boyfriend and hastily loop your arm through his.

“I think I did something wrong.”

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“H-He’s kicking us all out.”

“Not everyone, baby girl. We’re still welcome to stay unless you want to go.”, Eddie asks as his hand cups your cheek. “Do you want to leave?”

Glancing towards Steve, who was coming back down the hallway, ushering people out from the bedrooms while they hurriedly put back on their clothes, you shook your head and leaned on the boy’s shoulder.

“No, Daddy, I don’t want to leave.”

He blinked as you used his title so freely without prompting and a sigh of relief left his chest; you were comfortable.

“Yes, alright, alright. Thank you for coming and destroying my space. My cleaning lady would like me to remind you that she hates you all. Ok, ba-bye.”, the businessman continued to sass before slamming the door shut and raising his arms in victory. “All gone! Now it’s just us.”

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”, you respond meekly, grabbing his attention.

Balancing his hands on his knees, Steve bends to your level as his soft eyes find yours.

“Look at me, honey? Do I look upset?”, he asked in a calm tone.

“You kicked everyone out…”

“Yeah, you mentioned being afraid of ruining our businesses and reputation if people saw me touching or talking to you a certain way. I don’t care about the people I kicked out but I do care if you and Eddie are comfortable.” When he reached out to caress your cheek, this time you allowed it as you tenderly kissed the pad of his thumb as it grazed your lips making him smile.

“Are you both hungry? I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

###############

You giggled from your place on the sofa as you took a bite of the food Steve had ordered for you three while he continued to regale you with stories of his friendship with your boyfriend.

“I kid you not, honey, this party in LA was insane. It reminded me of dance scene in Moulin Rouge where she dangles from the roof. Girls where dancing fucking everywhere and this guy acted like he was stepping into his office or some shit. Just like zero emotion painted on his face.”

“Look, that’s your scene, Harrington, not mine. I’m more into like metal shows and concerts, things like that. I don’t know how to be at a regular party let alone that.”

“I think you did well tonight, baby.”, you beam as you tilt towards him to kiss his cheek.

Steve silently studies the exchange as his friend blushes and places his hand back on your calf to continue massaging your legs comfortingly. When you lean back against the couch your eyes linger on his smile before you turn towards the other man and notice that he was watching.

“What about you, honey? What’s your scene?”

“Um…I’m not really sure to be honest. It may sound cliché but right now it’s Eddie. I love everywhere he takes me and places he shows me. I feel like I’m taking advantage though.”

“Baby, you’re not taking advantage. You know I love taking care of you.”

“I know but…I can’t help that I have a heart.”, you smile.

“Hm. Is that why you agreed to this? Because he wants you to?” When your gaze shifts his way and you flash him a confused look, Steve can’t help but sarcastically chuckle. “Don’t play dumb, Y/N. The three of us know you’re not just here to meet me. There’s a whole other side to Mr. Munson here that no one knows about that I just find so fucking attractive.”

While he speaks Eddie’s eyes lock with his friends as his demeaner hardens while Steve cockily grins his way.

“Eddie would never force me to do anything I didn’t want to.”

“Huh uh. Your point being…?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Mr. Harrington. I just know how important you are to him and I don’t…want to disappoint…”

“I highly doubt that’s possible, pretty girl.”, the businessman grins your way. “He means a lot to me to. Eddie’s saved me from myself a few times and been there when no one else was. Which is why I’m asking the questions that I am.” Slithering to the carpet, he scoots his body till he’s in front of you and takes your legs off Eddie’s lap to place them in front of himself. “We want you to do this because you want to. Not because you think it will appease him…which it will but…”, he chuckles.

Your eyes scan over him as he waits for you to respond.

Steve had taken some effort to dress up for his party donning a suit that haphazardly hung to his frame. After everyone left, he had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, leaving a couple of buttons open on his chest to show off the undershirt that barely covered the chest hair peeking through.

His slacks were a bit baggy but the belt that clung to his waist accentuated his hips making you promptly want to wrap your arms around him. His hair, that had been styled when you first saw him, was now frayed due to him running his fingers through it as he spoke throughout the dinner and if he had bothered shaving this morning, you couldn’t tell with the light shades of hair that dusted his upper lip.

While Steve came off strong, he radiated a safety that told you everything was ok and that you could trust him.

“Can we go slow?”

“Of course. Of course, baby.”, Eddie comforts as he slides closer to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “Just say Red like I taught you if you get uncomfortable, ok?”

“Ok, Daddy. I love you.”

“I love you to, princess.”, he whispers as he kisses your lips.

“Are there any hard no’s for either of you?”, Steve asked as his fingers slid down your legs till he reached your heel and began unbuttoning the clasp.

“She’s pretty timid so she’s not really into the rougher stuff.”

“Can she not tell me?”, the man snickers as he moves to your other foot.

After rolling his eyes, Eddie gestured towards his friend urging you to answer.

“I’m open to trying anything… just…don’t hurt me…”

“You have to define ‘hurt’, honey.”

“Don’t like punch me or anything.”

Your answer gave Steve pause as his gaze shifted between you and your boyfriend.

“Y/N, that never crossed my mind. I would never hurt you like that. I know some people are into that but I know Eddie and he knows me. We don’t want to see you hurt or cry like that. No one’s ever hurt you like that right? Because I’ll fucking kick their ass.”

“No, Sir.”, you giggle at his slightly teasing yet protective tone. “No one’s ever hurt me like that. I just…like I said, I’m new to all this. Eddie teaches me things and he’s always so patient.” The man besides you beams with pride as he kisses your temple. “What about you? Is there anything I should know?”

Steve blinks as his little smirk flickers along his lips.

“Would you be surprised no one has ever asked me that?”

“Why? I mean I want you to enjoy yourself to and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable either.”

“Jesus Christ.”, he groans as his cheek falls against your bare thigh and his hands hug your leg. “You have to take me to this coffee shop you found her at, Ed, because she is perfect.”

On impulse, your fingers reach out to pet his head and he moans lightly at the action as he tilts a bit to kiss your skin.

“No, honey. Just be honest and vocal with me. Sometimes I get…passionate…so if I’m doing something you like or don’t like just tell me.”

“Yes, Sir. What about you, Daddy?”

“I’m just watching tonight, sweetheart.”

“Yeah but is there…is there something you don’t want me to with him? Like…can I kiss him?”

“Yeah, baby girl, you can kiss him. You can do anything you want as long as you feel safe and I will be right here if you need me.”

“Ok, Daddy.”

“Why don’t you take off your dress, babe, and show Steve what he gets to play with?”

Nodding, you rose to your feet and wiggled your frame as you slid the tight-fitting fabric down your body bringing your panties down with it.

“No bra?”, Steve asked as you sat back down and he took a seat beside you.

“I didn’t think it went with the dress.”

“We were at the mall for hours looking for the ‘perfect’ dress. She wanted to look nice for you.”, Eddie jested making you blush.

“Aw, honey. Well, it was absolutely gorgeous.”, his friend cooed as he placed his arm over his own behind your head and rested his other palm on your stomach. “I think I like this outfit the best.”, he whispers causing a shutter to ripple through you.

Leaning your lips toward Steve’s, your pussy clenched as they mingled together while you mewled at his taste. They both had a lingering note of nicotine but this man was oddly softer with his technique than Eddie; so much so that you constantly chased his mouth for more friction.

As you turned to kiss your boyfriend, his lips were desperately waiting as he cupped your head in his head and held you still. Steve’s tongue grazed your throat as he placed open mouth kisses along your skin causing you to pant as you struggled to stay connect to the man you loved.

“How does it feel? Tell Daddy, baby.”

“G-Good. Want more.”

“Tell him. Tell Mr. Harrington what you want, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as Steve’s mouth and tongue found purchase on your tit as he sucked and licked your nipple.

“Please—mmm—Mr. Harrington. I want to feel you t-touch me.”

Without saying a word, he tore off his shirt and pushed down his pants to his ankles.

“Fuck, come here, honey.” Laying on your side, you place your head towards his stomach and Steve groans when a glob of spit falls from your mouth on to his tip. “There you go, Y/N. Shit.”

As your hand begins to pump him, you listen as he sucks on his fingers before rubbing them against your clit.

“Oh…Oh my god, Steve.”

No sooner had his name left your mouth was your hair being yanked back as his angry eyes found yours.

“When we are together, little girl, you will show me respect. Do I make myself clear?”

“Ah…yes, Sir.”

“Who am I right now?”

“Mr. Harrington.”

His cock twitched in your hand as he gripped you tighter.

He was enjoying the control.

“Louder, Y/N.”

“Mr. Harrington! You’re Mr. Harrington, Sir!”

As soon as he let you go, you desperately wanted to make up for your indiscretion, immediately wrapping your lips around his length and bobbing your head.

“Atta girl. Fuck-- don’t overwhelm yourself. I-I know I’m a lot.”

The sound of a belt unbuckling echoed through the living room and you know Eddie was making himself more comfortable especially when Steve’s fingers breached your entrance as he curled them inside you.

“Jesus, look how fucking hard you are. You like watching your girlfriend take my cock down her throat?” Utilizing one of your hands, you massaged the businessman’s balls eliciting a loud grunt that had you clenching around his fingers. “You were right, Ed. She’s—mmph—she’s good at sucking dick. Damn, and she’s so fucking tight. You’re right, baby. I’m going to stretch you in half.”

Your moan mixes with Eddie’s at the notion.

“Fuck me. I can’t—” Abruptly Steve removed his fingers and manhandled you till your head was on your boyfriend’s lap on your back. After removing the rest of his clothes, he opened your legs wide and spit directly into your cunt before falling on top of you. “I’m gonna try and go slow at first but I just really want to fucking pound into you so like I said…If I’m hurting you—”

“I’ll tell you. Please, Mr. Harrington, I need you.”, you whine as you grind your hips along his hard cock.

His arms boxed you in as his head fell beside your own and he began guiding himself into you. Your hands promptly grabbed his shoulders as you bit your bottom lip.

“There y-you go, sweetheart. Such a good girl.”, Eddie cooed softly above you as you felt the slight wind of his hand stroking his length.

The whole scene was driving you wild and you couldn’t help but squeeze tighter around the man inside you making him grunt as you whined in slight pain.

“A-Are you o-o-okay, Sir?”

Steve’s fingers threaded in your hair as he lifts his head to look down at your face. As he thrusts in another inch, a heavy breath leaves your lips hitting his own as his features scrunch in what looks like pain.

“Talk to me.”, you whimper. “I need you to be v-vocal to.”

Leaning his forehead against yours, his tenderly gives you a kiss.

“I’m not even…even all the way in…I feel like…mmm…I’m gonna cum. Am I h-h-hurting you?”

“A little but…feels…good…” This time you kiss him as your nails drag down his back till your palms grip his ass. “It’s ok, Steve.”, you whisper. “Keep going. I want to feel all of you. I don’t care if I can’t walk tomorrow as long as I can feel you.”

Subtly guiding him with your hands, he delivered you small thrusts as his beautiful eyes remained locked on yours.

“Uhhh, fuck. Feels so good, Mr. Harrington.” When he was fully seated inside of you, you both froze as you relished the feeling of each other. “Please, Sir. I need you to move.”

A large palm circled around your throat and lightly squeezed as Steve pushed up on his elbow to glare down at you.

“You need me to move, little girl? Then don’t fucking pout. You take what I fucking give you.”

Eddie’s movements still as he watched the scene before him. The few times the two of them had played this was how Steve was. Where Eddie was a bit softer, Steve was much more rugid and rough around the edges. Daddy wanted to teach whereas Mr. Harrington wanted someone to obey. When they were intimate, they bounced off each other quiet well. When Steve needed someone to just love him and care for him Daddy was there. When Eddie was tired of being in control all day, Mr. Harrington took over.

They never dug too deep into it or what that aspect of their relationship meant. They just knew they were best friends and that’s all that mattered.

With him, you were always very shy about a lot of sexual things. You were no prude but like you said, you had only experienced the vanilla lifestyle. Eddie loved your innocence and it catered to his Daddy nature. But neither of you had ever gotten this far.

He’d never tried being rough with you in this way nor had he ever had to “punish” you. Unlike the women he dated previously, you were far from a brat. Occasionally yes he did scold you but all in all nothing more. When he asked you about being intimate with Steve, he knew the man leaned more towards that spectrum which is why he insisted on you utilizing the safe word should you need it.

Eddie had also warned him that you were timid and to just go along with your flow.

To him on the outside looking in, however, it seemed like Steve jumped to a 10 without warning.

“Sweetheart, what color are we at?”

Instead of answering you tried push against his friend’s grasp to kiss his lips again but he just pushed you down as he smirked at your insistence. Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing and his cock twitched slightly at the sight.

You were disobeying.

“Answer me, Y/N.”

“Green, Daddy.”

“She’s fine, Munson. Look at her. Desperate little thing just wants to cum.” Suddenly wrapping his arms around you, Steve sits up without pulling out so you’re straddling him. “Well, go ahead, honey. Take what you want.”

Balancing your hands against his shoulders, you bounced your hips slowly at first as you fully got used to his size. The burn had long since passed and pleasure was fully in the driver’s seat as his cock hit and surpassed all your buttons till you were a desperate mess.

“Fuck, Eddie, do you hear that? She’s so f-fucking wet. Come on, baby. Harder!”, he scolded as he spanked your behind. A string of ahs escaped you as you did what he commanded, your eyes rolling as your head fell back. “Atta girl. Taking my dick so well. No one-mmph—no one’s ever taken all of me before. Not even him.”

Glancing towards your boyfriend, you moaned as his hand stroked his cock at a blistering pace as he grunted at the feeling, his eyes focused on your tits and body as they moved.

“M-Mr. Harrington feels so good, Daddy. Can I have his cum? Please! I wanna feel him cum inside me.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Y-Yeah, baby girl. If you squeeze his cock real tight when you cum I’m sure he could return the favor.”

Your lips crashed to Steve’s as your tongues danced together and his arms held you in place.

“Just like that, Sir. Please…I’m gonna…”

The pants that left his mouth warmed your cheek as he clung to you, planting his feet into the carpet as he thrust up into you roughly. The sound of skin slapping skin hit your ears and after a few more pumps your body trembled as you came.

“FUCK! God fucking damn it!”, Steve shouted as his hands held you tighter to him. “You pussy is choking my dick. Fuck I’m gonna cum.”

Hastily, he tossed you to the side on your stomach and lifted your ass in the air as he shifted around behind you. Sliding his cock back inside of you, Steve set an animalistic pace as he chased his high. Leaning over your back, his palm pinned you into the sofa cushion squishing your face as he rolled his waist till you felt his release coat your insides.

Eddie grunted above you till you listened to his voice shake as his seed shot out and hit his thigh.

“Oh oh oh. I know, Y/N. I’m sorry.”, Steve soothes in a soft tone when you cry out as he tries to carefully pull out of you. After throwing himself down behind you, he tugs on your hips bringing you on to his lap. Just as you had with his friend, you wrapped your arm around his neck and rested your head against his chest as your eyes closed.

“What should I do?”, he whispers to Eddie who breathily chuckles.

“Play with her hair and rub her back or something. Tell her she’s safe.”

“Should we at least get her clean?”

“Yeah sure. Go ahead and try that.” As Steve tries to readjust you so he can stand and bring you to his bathroom, your arm holds him closer as you nuzzle your nose into his neck. “I told you, man. I’m not sure if it’s the headspace or just her but either way I love it. Makes me feel wanted…needed…”

“Hey.”, the businessman calls out as his arm reaches out to lightly hit his friend’s shoulder. “I need you, Ed. You’ve been a really good friend to me. As you can tell a lot of people like the idea of me and what that brings.”, Steve sighs as he gestures around the house. “You’ve never been like that. How, um, how was this? Did you like it?”

“I did. There was a moment there though… she doesn’t talk like that with me or misbehave at all really. It was fascinating to watch.” The other man nods at his assessment, shifting his gaze towards you as his hand plays with your hair. “What about you? Did you like being with her?”

Steve chuckles as he continues to stare forward.

“Yeah, I did. I’m a little worried because I wasn’t joking when I said no one has ever taken all of me before. She may be really sore in the morning but yeah. I also liked you watching; turned me on a bit more. You should join in next time. I mean if she wants there to be a next time. There doesn’t have to be. I like her personality to. She’s adorable and she seems to genuinely care about you.”

Sensing something in his friend’s tone, Eddie pulled up his pants as he shuffled closer to his side and without hesitating, Steve leaned onto his shoulder.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah…just been a rough few weeks. It’s oddly calming having her hold me like this. Never had a woman in my bed long enough to cuddle with after. Either they get sick of me or I get sick of them.”

“Sounds about right.”

Steve’s head tilts back to watch his friend laugh with glassy eyes before pressing his lips to the other man’s throat and peppering him with tiny, soft kisses.

“Didn’t you just cum, needy boy?”, Eddie lightly teases.

“Mhmm but I could go again if you’re playing to.”

“Oh my God, Steve, you slut.” The sound of their breath filled laughter woke you from your sleepy state. “Hey, sweetheart. How do you feel?”

“I’m ok, Daddy. Cold but ok.”

“How about we get you into a bath and then you and Eddie can crash in one of my guest rooms?”

“Oh. Alright.”, you reply sullenly causing Steve to grip your chin so his eyes could find your own. “I just thought you’d lay with us but I understand if you don’t want to.”

“Hey, I’d love to lay with you both. I just didn’t want to overcrowd you if you wanted some space after everything.”

After placing your lips on his, you grab Eddie’s collar to do the same.

“I don’t want space. I want to feel you both hold me.”

Both men exchange a glance before getting to their feet and carrying you down the hall.

“We can do that, baby girl.”

#############

@aol19 @livsters @dashingdeb16 @too-efn-old-to-be-here

@yesimabratandwhataboutot @eddiesguitarskills

@scarlet-witch23 @soph342 @micheledawn1975 @thatgurljen @fluffansmut

@chelebelletx @peaches-roses-sins @areiofhope @hugdealer @nerdygamingartist@bootywizzard @bexreadstoomuch @calumfmu @nailbatanddungeon

If I missed anyone in the tags please let me know!

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papaya-twinks · 4 months ago

Text

just an assistant - l.n

Warnings: little bit of perv!lando, angst, sexism

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - bro why do y’all love this series sm 😭😭😭

@horseymchorse3 @dripostsstuff @mayalou @landinhoe

part 2

Since the phone incident, things with Lando had changed a lot, he was still cold and stern, but something else had changed. “Lando,” you walked into his room, carrying his phone, which he had offered to lend you during work hours. “What?” he groaned, seeing you peering at his calendar. “You have a meeting,” you said, looking up at him. “Seriously?” he snapped, his voice almost accusing towards you.

“Yeah,” you nodded, unsure how to answer. “God, c’mon then,” he grumbled, standing up and leading you to the conference room, slumping into the chair beside you. “Right,” the strategy director clapped his hands, his eyes flickering through everyone. Lando rocked on his chair lazily, picking at his nails as the meeting flew by.

For you, it was quick, for him, it dragged on endlessly, before they were finally dismissed. “God,” Lando groaned, rolling his eyes as the meeting finally concluded. You leaned down to pick up your bag off the floor, taking the items as Lando rolled his eyes. “Hurry up,” Lando said impatiently, tapping his foot as he waved his arm, the palm of his large hand making contact with your butt as you shrieked, standing up, eyes wide.

He hadn’t meant to do it intentionally- but the way you shrieked and blushed from it made his mind rush. Lando could have some fun with this. You brushed it off, taking your stuff as you walked back to Lando’s room, his phone in your hand. Or buzzed slightly, making you peer at the notification, which Lando noticed.

“What is it?” he raised an eyebrow, sitting on the edge of his bed as you stood in front of him. As an assistant, you were allowed to wear your own outfits, today being a pretty white dress with a bow on the back of your head. Why does she insist of dressing up every day?

The way you dressed pissed Lando off in some ways, whereas also making him think things he knew he shouldn’t. “Instagram,” you said, handing him the phone. It surprised him that you didn’t check it or anything, and it also surprised you that he trusted you with his phone. Lando took the device from you, peering at the notification before brushing it off. “Put it on silent,” Lando grumbled as he sat down, pulling his jumper over his face or the rye glare of the lights,

You sis what he said, before your eyes landed on his form, shirt stretched taut over his body, lifted slightly at the bottom, giving white the view. “Stop staring,” the man mumbled from beneath the hoodie as you blushed, turning to busy yourself with the items on the shelf. Oh no, Lando wanted to have fun with this. “Come here,” Lando said, moving his hoodie of his face.

His hand fell from where the jumper was to rest on your thigh, your cheeks reddening at the feeling. “Go get me some coffee,” he said, giving your thigh a squeeze. The gesture had made you slightly nervous but you nodded timidly, rushing to get the drink before returning and placing it behind him. “Give it to me, not the damn table,”.

You nodded sheepishly, handing him the cup as he sat up. “This is shit, Y/N,” Lando snapped, putting the cup down. You’d gotten distracted from when he had squeezed your thigh and accidentally put too much milk in. “Sorry,” you mumbled, reaching to take the cup back. “No, I haven’t got time for this,” Lando muttered, moving the cup back to his body.

“No go do something productive,” he waved his hand dismissively, his finger ghosting over the skin of your thighs. “Why are you flinching?” he raised a brow at you, eyes roving over your thigh. “It’s nothing,” you mumbled, nodding but he didn’t buy it. “Oh, does that affect you?” Lando asked, his voice full of mock concern as your cheeks flushed.

“Does it?” he asked again, bringing his hand to squeeze at your thighs. “Lando,” you frowned, “stop it,”. Lando scowled at your words, looking unimpressed as his eyes roved over your body. “Yeah?” he snapped “thought you were my assistant, supposed to do what I say,”. You were, yes, but this was not the way you meant.

In some ways, you enjoyed the way he touched you and you never truly pushed him back, but it was the professionalism in you that wanted something else. “What do you mean he keeps ‘touching you?’” Zak asked, his eyebrow raised slightly. “Just, um, grabbing,”.

“Well…” Zak frowned, “he’s our lead driver, Y/N,”. What? What did that have to do with it? “So, we have one option,” he nodded, “Y/N…you’re fired,”.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris x you #lando norris smut #just an assistant

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cardigan-ns · 3 months ago

Text

My first call

Pairing: Ben Hargreeves x Little Sister!Reader

Request: can u do ben hargreeves x little sister reader? maybe some angst? (season 4)

Summary: You two were the only ones who survived the sparrow academy, he was your sole caregiver and he was trying desperately to make ends meet in this messed up universe, he ended up getting arrested and sent to prison for 4 years.

A/N: it’s also a little bit of Luther x Little sister!Reader too

Ben hated his father for stranding him in this timeline, not only was his entire family dead, but he had no money and the only sibling of his that was alive was his 11 year old sister. He loved her to pieces but he was struggling really bad with how to keep her happy and stable. She was his rock, anything he did, he did for her. She was his fighting chance at actually coping in life. But she knew just as much as him that some days were worse than others, they’d both sob to eachother sometimes after remembering the rest of the sparrow academy and how they’re now gone, ceased from existence.

He cursed the umbrella academy, how do they get to be reset and alive and he has to mourn his brothers and sisters while they all get to play happy family. They keep inviting him to things, and he keeps declining, he didn’t see the point, they’re strangers to him, they broke into his home one day and refused to leave him alone since. He wasn’t their Ben so why are they constantly holding on to him. All they’re doing is confusing his sister and he’d hope they’d cool off eventually but they never did.

2 years have passed and Ben is now feeling stable for once since landing here, Y/N was doing great in school, her grades were excellent, even better than what Ben was gaining at that age. His scams were earning him a lot of cash, yes he was bankrupting thousands of people at a time but who gives a shit, he’s able to buy his sister everything she needs and wants and she is very grateful for it. Although she doesn’t exactly know how he’s doing it, she expected he was getting the money from their father.

“Hey Ben?” You called from the table, you sat doing your homework. Ben was cooking you guys some dinner and glanced over his shoulder to acknowledge your calling. “How come we never see those umbrella people?” You questioned, you always wondered who those strangers truly were, from what you saw of them, they seemed like genuine people, a little off their rocker but meaning well. Ben just sighed at the mention of those utter morons and set the spatula down. “I’ve told you to stop asking about them. All they are is the reason we’re alive, big deal.” He blew off some steam in his response to you, all you were looking for was some small talk to help pass the time between algebra equations and dinner, but here Ben was throwing a hissy fit again. Like always.

You had the same stubbornness as him, so with a set down of your pen you glared at him, he glared at you. “I saw that one of them sent a card in the mail. You still haven’t opened it.” Ben rolled his eyes and remembered the card that Luther had sent the two of you, he had a feeling it’d be a bunch of nonsense and that’s why he ignored never tearing the envelope open. “Leave it.” He concluded the argument and plated your dinner.

Tonight was an odd night, Ben was more on edge than usual, he kept opening his laptop and closing it, wouldn’t eat all his dinner, kept changing the channels on the TV. He even payed the gas bill on time, he usually leaves it for as long as possible so he can con the gas man, gives him a discount because they think he can’t afford it and he pulls the “little sister” card, hoping that’d buy him some brownie points. You sat on your bed, reading an old edition of your favourite comic, Ben knocked on your door, holding a box of donuts. “Hey, I wanted to apologise for earlier.” He sat at the edge of your bed, you didn’t even care about the argument, you’ve had worse, but what you did care about were the treats he was handing you. “And you’re forgiven.” You immediately took the box from him and took a bite out of the sugary delicacy.

Ben laughed slightly at your immediate dismissal and he took a donut too, after he was eating it he looked over at you who had somehow got sugar everywhere. “How the hell…” he laughed again. You just shrugged your shoulders, closing the box and setting it on your bedside table. Ben stood up, yanking you off the bed and he brushed you out of the room, you knew exactly what he was asking you to do. Get clean bed sheets. You loved him but sometimes he was such a neat freak. You went and got some and walked back to find your bed stripped from the blue covers, Ben chucked the dirty laundry in the basket and he turned on the radio in your room. “You were supposed to change these last night, it’s like you were waiting to cover it in sugar.” You looked at him with narrowed eyes like he’d just caught you out on your extravagant plan. You set the folded piles of sheets on your chair and you jumped on your bed.

Ben just sighed as you completely ignored him clearly trying to change the bed. “Stop being difficult. It’ll take five minutes!” he had to looked up at you as you jumped in the air and back on your mattress repeatedly. “Ben come on, remember anytime dad made us go around and routinely change everyone sheets.” That was their chore, Ben always had you to tag along with him, he was your personal assistant, funny how life works, it’s the same old. But he does recall how on every bed, to ‘make sure it’s safe’ you’d jump on it and after a few moments of bickering so would he, he always had a mushy side to him, relatively a mushy side that was reserved for you.

“Screw you!” He muttered as he hopped on the bed too, and as the music on the radio played, you and Ben had a moment of peace, one that you haven’t felt in a very long time, you didn’t need to be suscepted to such violent trauma at a young age, Ben could barely handle it as a fully grown adult, he was always cautious at how he treated you, usually resulting in you feeling sheltered, he felt like if you had too much of a good time you’d crash out, remembering all the bad. But he was just happy and grateful to still have a moment like this with you.

Having spent the past 2 years watching over you, Ben grew to realise it’s always been his role to parent you, not his father, it brought him grief along with new found appreciation for the gift he was given, he still remembers when Reginald brought you home. There was a malfunction with your marigold, causing yours to appear at a later date, a lot later than the rest of the 43.

The sparrows were 19 when he brought you home in a stroller, Ben was hesitant at first, wondering if since you were new, Reginald would make you number 1, but seeing as you weren’t stealing his thunder, he kind of liked keeping you around. You always got sick as a child though, Grace tried her best to heal you but it was some nurture that always helped. Which is why Ben read some of his comics to you, taught you how to draw, taught you what good music was, gave you some fashion sense when you grew out of Hello Kitty and Barbie. Even though you swore you were a ‘grown up’ you kept that hello kitty nightlight by your bedside, even now. When you got scattered in this new timeline you couldn’t sleep for 2 months, until Ben purchased an exact replica, then you could finally get through to the morning.

That’s why it hurt even more when the cops raided the apartment after your calming moment. They dragged him out of your room, placing him under arrest for fraud and bankrupting thousands. One of the cops broke your night light, and broke your home…

“Y/N, I’ll sort this out okay? You’ll be my first call.” He tried to shake the burly men who held him in cuffs, they dragged him out of the room as his eyes poured with tears, guilt and horror. He was trying to keep you safe, trying to save some of your childhood, and now he’s gone and fucked it all up. You’ll never forgive him, he thought. The cops were dragging him out the door as you quickly shuffled to chase him, you were shocked and petrified. “Let me talk to my fucking sister.” Ben yelled and the cops figured he better, seeing as she was only a kid. “I don’t know where they’re going to take you, but I’m gonna come home, okay. I’ll find you.” He spoke softly as to mend your heart as it got ripped to shreds. And then he was out of sight, after that touching moment, your eyes welled into tears and you were shaking. He was all you had left.

One lesser aggressive cop, knelt down by you as they dragged your brother away from you. “Hi, sweetheart, I know this is a lot to process, but I’m going to stay here with you while some social workers arrive. They’re going to help you, the best they can.” Right now you wish you had your power, to just stop time, run down the hall and give Ben one last hug, you figured that’s the last you’d ever see him, no goodbye, no closure, your bed wasn’t even made.

“I’m not going to some home. Different parents. No. I’m not talking to a social worker. I’m staying here, waiting for them to bring Ben home. He didn’t do what you’re accusing him of!” You argued with the man in uniform, your lip quivering as you tried to stay strong, stand your ground, but you were just a kid wanting her safety back. The officer just gave you a saddened look, as if all you wanted couldn’t be. “Well do you have anyone you can call?” His question would’ve been easy if your other siblings survived the fucking apocalypse the umbrellas brought. Then as if a lightbulb went off you ran to the kitchen counter and grabbed the envelope from the top of the microwave, ripping it open.

‘Dear Ben and Y/N,

Just wanted to remind you that it’s our birthdays soon, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to get dinner sometime? Everyone else is busy…

It’s okay if not,

Luther

[his number]’

You smiled, thanking Luther silently, he was always so formal, you’ve never been happy to see a bunch of randomised numbers, even though that was practically your childhood. “Officer, this is my brother, kind of.” You handed him the letter, he stood up and read through it, nodding, then walking to the next room to make a phone call. You ran to Ben’s room and just laid on his bed, pretending he was just getting the popcorn ready for your Saturday movie nights. A few stray tears fell down your face as you realised he was going to be sleeping in a cell and not his bed.

After a while of crying, your body gave out and you fell asleep, clutching the mini pillow you made for Ben at your youth club.

That’s until, after a while, a gentle hand shook you awake. You rolled over, forgetting all that happened while the sleep wore off. You saw two men before you, the officer and Luther. Luther sat at the edge of the bed, by you, he looked as though he’d been crying too. You haven’t seen him for two years so it was revelling to see one another again. You remembered him being a really nice man, he married your sister, so technically he was family. He and Sloane took you out to mini golf one day, Sloane always cheated, gravitating the ball into the hole. Luther broke about 4 golf clubs and you stopped time and cheated too. You hargreeves were never good at playing fair.

“Hey kiddo.” He muttered as all the memories of Ben’s arrest rushed back to you. You just clung to Luther in a hug and cried in his shoulder, the less stronger man just held you, gazing up at the officer. “I’ll take it from here, sir.” The cop nodded and left the apartment. You sniffled and wiped your eyes even though the waterworks kept on coming. “He’s not a bad guy, Luther.” You kept repeating similar phrases, pleading your brother’s innocence, as if convincing yourself he was getting out that night. “I know, I know.” Luther rubbed your back and he comforted you, it was difficult to see you like this again, the last time he saw you, you were just as devastated when you first got to this timeline.

After a while of him helping you calm back down, you sat beside him on the bed, he was going to stay with you, clean the apartment for you, after the cops made a mess of it, especially your room. It was really late though, you were tired and you just wanted nothing more than for Ben and you to chill while you nerded out about your favourite books. He loved poetry and you loved fantasy. Luther seemed like he likes those things too, if given the right recommendations, but he wasn’t like Ben. “Would you like anything in particular for breakfast tomorrow?” He smiled over to you as you still held the small pillow, looking at it. “I like cereal…” you shrugged, not really having an appetite and not wanting to think about how lonely the morning would be without him there to watch TV with. “Cereals good.” Luther nodded. He figured that once you were asleep he was going to make a run to the all night grocery, to get you a lot of things, he mostly emptied his wallet when he felt guilty.

It was still awkward having him here, and confusing, he was your brother in law, but he was also bens actual brother, but not your Ben, a different Ben, who had the same father but not the father you have. It gave you a headache the more you pondered on where Luther placed in your life. You got off the bed and walked silently to your room, noticing now just how badly it was banjaxed. Luther follows slowly behind and just stood at the door frame. “Just to let you know, I did tell the officer off for doing that.” He let you in on that fact, you just nodded and lifted pieces of your broken light, you sat on the floor, you weren’t going to sleep the whole night, the only way you slept earlier was because it still felt like Ben was here.

Luther lifted the pile of bedsheets that were still on your chair, untouched. The old sheets were still on top of the hamper, Ben still having not cleaned it. Luther got the mattress sheet and tried to put it on, but you immediately stopped him. “No!” You glared, not meaning to be so hasty, and Luther just tilted his head, confused. “But where are you going to sleep? You can just have a bare mattress.” He was trying to help but you took it as him dismissing your problems and trying to take over Ben’s role. “I said no! Just get out!” You yelled at him and Luther immediately dropped the sheets and slumped his shoulders, nodding and leaving you alone in your room. Gently closing the door behind him.

Ben never called, the entire night you sat up, not sleeping a wink, except between 3:45am and 4:23am then you woke, rushing to check the phones past logs, not a single one from Ben. Your room was still a mess, your lamp was still broken on the floor, Luther did try to come back into your room and clean it, not wanting you to get hurt by the shards. But yet again, you screamed at him to leave. And he took that as a hint and didn’t come back in… respectfully listening to your wishes, not getting mad at you for it.

You cried and cried and cried even more. Luther left the house for a little bit, which you later found out was because he went to the store, he slipped a note under your door,

‘Buying you some cereal, won’t be long

:)’

You smiled at his careful consideration to your needs. He was nice for that. Then morning came, you yawned and pulled yourself from the bed, growing more and more agitated the longer it took Ben to call. Maybe he forgot about you, and that hurt more than anything. Because you knew Ben wouldn’t just forget, he loved you. He would want to make sure you were safe.

Luther then drudged into the kitchen, scratching his head, he got out two bowls, and opened up the box of cereal, as you sat at the kitchen table staring at the phone, waiting for it to call. You propped your head up with your elbows, staring and staring and staring. “Good morning.” Luther called over to you and you just nodded, not giving back an answer. He poured the milk into the bowls of cereal and walked towards you, handing you a spoon along with it. “I had a feeling you liked cinnamon toast crunch.” He smiled to you. When he first got kidnapped by the sparrows, way back when, you were eating that while he had his toast and cashew butter.

“Thanks.” You took the bowl from him and took a bite, still looking at the phone.

3 days passed, no call. A week, a month, a year, 2 years, 4 years. 4 fucking years it took for a call.

You were 17 now, on your last year of high school, living in a nice home with Luther, you two had one another, you finally accepted him as your guardian and you two grew very close, turns out you two had more in common than you thought, he was still no Ben, but he was Luther, and you were okay with that. Acceptance, what a chilling thing.

Your niece and sister-in-law were visiting. Claire, she’s the age you were when Ben went away, it was always an odd reminder of how long it’s been. Allison sat in the kitchen with Luther as they talked about what their plans were for Christmas this year, Luther was making them some coffee as the phone rang. You payed no mind to it as you and Claire watched your favourite show across the room, you both decided it would be fun to draw your favourite characters at the coffee table while you watched, it was nice to just unwind and be free with expressing via art, you liked getting to know the umbrellas too, they were all super welcoming and loving, even though they had their differences.

Your favourite was probably Allison though, it was good to have another girl around, she helped you a lot with things that neither Ben nor Luther could help with, she let you stay at hers some nights as your school was closer by than Luther’s place. Lila also had you babysitting her kids sometimes while she went to ‘Book Club’ and Diego worked, they were a great addition to your life too, you even became close with Lila’s relatives and it was mending your soul having people there.

Luther was on the phone for a while, you just assumed it was Viktor, but Luther kept glancing over at you every so often, which was making you worried, your mind wandered to various possibilities. “Uh yeah, but when will that be?” Luther asked down the phone, he then got a notepad and a pen and wrote some things down. This call was distracting you from the peaceful time you were having with Claire and now you walked over to the kitchen, which was connected by an archway. Luther glanced over at you again and continued the call. “Okay, yeah I’ll come get him now.” Him. You yanked the notepad from Luther which had the address to the pickup lot at the state prison. Your mind was racing, he was finally getting out, finally coming home. But you weren’t as hopeful to see him as you used to be. It’s not that you’ve moved on, it’s just that you resented him for not calling when he said he would.

“Wanna come with me?” Luther asked as he knew you’d put the pieces together, the prison wasn’t that long of a drive maybe an hour and 30 minutes. It took you a while to even make your mind up about that, but Allison held your hand from where you stood. “I’m sure he had a good reason for doing what he did.” She squeezed your hand and you just didn’t move, still confused. If he did have a good reason for leaving you in the dark it better be extremely fucking good of an excuse. Or else you wouldn’t let him off easy. Allison stood up and hugged you before she and Claire had to go back home and pick up Klaus from their house.

You held her tightly, knowing that if Ben comes back, maybe he would isolate her from her new found family again. “Bye, Allison.” You mumbled into her shoulder and she laughed slightly rubbing your back and pulling away to look at you, her cheek caressing your face, “He’s missed you, I know he has.” You just smiled, not truly believing that, she just held her free hand out for Claire and you just sighed knowing they had to go home, and you and Luther had to go get Ben, it was actually happening. “You can call me about it later if you’d like.” She assured you and that made you feel a whole lot better about it. You just gave her a thumbs up and she made her exit.

In the car with Luther was anything less than fun. He tried to play some music, tried to play ‘i spy’, as if you were four, and even tried to sing. All of which made you even more tense. You love this bafoon but right now was not the time, which he shortly caught on to. “I know you’re anxious, remember what the doctor said, use your senses.” You’d been in therapy for a while, having too much to spew to them, you and Luther figured it was for the best if you went weekly. You listened to Luther’s advice and focused on everything around you.

Then he began to pull up to the gate, and parked the car. He turned to face you, “Okay, no matter what happens, we will get through this together, as a family, and I know that once he’s back on his feet, you’ll probably stay with him again.” He smiled, but you didn’t even think about that, not much, not deeply, not anymore. You missed Ben being there, but you were free now, stable, even though you bought another hello kitty night light with the money you earned from your part time job. “But I’m always available if you want to stay.” He smiled lovingly, and put his hand up to high five you. “We got this, Kiddo.” He smiled and opened the car door, as did you, as you guys did that they opened the prison doors and released Ben, who was in the very outfit he was arrested in, as if time stopped and you were 13 again, you didn’t realise just how difficult this would be, but here you were, going through it.

Ben halted once he saw Luther, “Fuck me.” He muttered to himself, then you emerged and his demeanour softened significantly. You’ve gotten so much older, he’d missed out on so many years with you. You stood there, hands in your pockets, a little guarded. Then Luther, nudged you, “Go say hello. He’s not a stranger.” Luther smiled at you, encouraging you to do this, he knew that deep down you’ve been praying for this moment since he left. Ben walked to the end of the fenced prison and was by the car, he didn’t know how to approach you, whether you’d kick him, hug him or punch him.

“Look at you,” Ben frowned, regretting ever committing fraud, regretting not providing for you normally. “You look like shit.” You responded back to him, noticing just how run down prison made him. You had a right to be angry but Ben just didn’t expect you to be so cold. He just nodded and Luther stood behind you trying to figure out how to ease the hostility, but to no conclusion as you spoke again.

“Get in the car, we’ve got places to be.” You completely dismissed Ben, and he seemed like someone just ripped his heart out and played basketball with it. “Jesus.” He lowered his head and shoved his bag in the car, taking the ego wound and sitting in the back seat, while you and Luther took the front. The engine started and off you guys went to the birthday party of your other niece.

When the car pulled up outside the play area Luther thought it’d be best to walk in already and leave the two of you to hash it out in the car, until you were ready to come in. You mentally cursed Luther because of that, you didn’t want to talk to Ben, you weren’t prepared.

“Why didn’t you call me?” You sat in the front seat playing with the hem of your hoodie, and Ben sat directly behind you, it’s as if it were confessions. He just gazed out the window and remembered how he promised you, he swore to you that he would, yet never followed through with it. “I didn’t want to give you false hope.” He spoke bluntly, sending a harsh chill down your spine, your brother would’ve gave you the benefit of the doubt, would’ve called to say he wouldn’t be home for a while, wouldn’t have just left you wondering without closure.

“You didn’t go to my trial, didn’t visit. I thought I did the right thing.” He was so sure in himself and you just scoffed, exiting the car and attempting to storm away to the building, but Ben quickly hopped out after you. “Stop! Okay? We aren’t done here.” Your face was completely and utterly gobsmacked. “Oh, aren’t we? You left me no other choice, how the hell was I meant to know? Nobody alerted me there was a trial, I was practically fighting to survive, I didn’t give Luther a chance and now you’re wondering why I gave up on you? Because you did it to me first!” You yelled a little too loud for this area, children and parents walking to and from the play place.

Ben just shook his head, aggravatingly, “You just couldn’t wait to talk to Luther. Always, Ben why haven’t we talked to him? Ben open the letter, Ben we need these people. Now look what they’ve done to you. You’re just as spiteful as them!” Ben was always defensive, casting blame to anyone but himself, self righteous in a way, which you never realised until now. “Jesus Christ, do you actually hear yourself? And what did I tell you? They’re good people. The only spiteful one is you!” You pointed to him in a fit of rage. “I was a child, with no guardian, no home, of course I was going to reach out to the only people I fucking knew.” You screamed your hands waving in the air to get your point across, Ben needed this reality check, he was away in disaster land.

Ben realised the gravity of his arrest now, how lonely and cursed she must’ve felt, but yet again he wasn’t going to let her make him the complete bad guy here. “I was doing what I needed, to keep us alive.” He breathed out knowing you wouldn’t see that, you were still very angry, and torn, on one hand you were overwhelmed at him being here and talking with you again, and on the other, you’re deeply missing your brother, wishing he didn’t do what he did. You just wanted your old bond back.

“I don’t know what to do.” You shrugged, helpless to this experience. “But I do know that the people in there, they’re just trying to make us part of their family. So let them.” You were commanding in your tone, just hoping Ben would consider it, when you finished talking he was against it completely. “Have you forgot what they’ve done? Our family, OUR ACTUAL FAMILY, are dead! Because of those fucking degenerate assholes.” He crossed his arms now sitting on the bench by the front door, looking at the ground. “I don’t want to replace them with carbon copies.” His voice somber, making you remember The Sparrow Academy and all the things you experienced with your short-lived-family.

You sat by Ben, interlocking your arm with his, showing him that you were on his side, after all, that’s what the both of you were fighting about. Ben glanced at you before resting his head by yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t call…” he spoke quietly and you just sighed. “I know you are.” You just accepted that you can’t go back and change what he’d done, he was ashamed and took the cowards way out, knowing he’d have years before he’d face you again. He just didn’t expect you to grow up with the same short temper and stubbornness as him.

You loved Ben and you hoped that whenever you got to Luther’s place that night, that you could jump on the bed to the radio blasting again, just like old times.

#ben hargreeves x reader #Ben hargreeves x little sister reader #sparrow!ben #sparrow ben #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy season 4 #tua #little sister reader #ben hargreeves #umbrella academy #luther hargreeves #Luther x Little sister reader #allison hargreeves #claire hargreeves #luther hargreeves x reader

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munson-blurbs · 2 years ago

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3

Summary: A series of mishaps has you and Eddie (and Grandma and Harris) in the same place at the same time, leading Eddie to let his guard down a bit. That is, until a secret is spilled.

Warnings: angst, Eddie is really mean to Reader, injuries (nothing bloody or gory), mostly set in a hospital, mentions of Eddie's dad, mentions of CPS, Reader's grandma has Alzheimer's, slowburn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, Eddie is 30, Reader is 28, no use of y/n

WC: 6k

Chapter 3/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @eddiemunsons-missingnipple Divider credit to @saradika

“Har-Bear?” Eddie calls out from the bedroom, pinning his nametag to his shirt. “You tie your sneakers yet?” His son had insisted that he didn’t need help with the laces, that he could do it on his own, but he’d be late for work if he waited any longer.

“Not…yet!” the tiny voice yells back, and Eddie can sense the frustration in his voice. “I think they’re broken.”

“Broken, huh?” Eddie laughs to himself as he walks out to the living room, where Harris is sitting in front of the door. Sure enough, his shoelaces remain untied, and tears roll down his cheeks. “C’mere, bud. It’s okay. I can tie ‘em for you this time.”

Harris shakes his head, brown curls bouncing on his scalp. He mumbles something unintelligible, and when Eddie bends down to help him, he pushes his hands away.

“Harris, enough!” Eddie hisses through gritted teeth, taking the laces and tying them quickly. “You know that you have school and Daddy has work.”

“B-b-but I’m the only one!” Harris wails, kicking his shoes off defiantly. Eddie picks them up with one hand and scoops up his son in the other, tipping towards the couch and hooking his pinky around Harris’s little backpack. He doesn’t have any time to waste; shoes will have to be put on at school.

Maybe Ms. Sweetheart will have better luck with him, Eddie thinks wryly, wrangling a screaming Harris down the stairwell.

“The only one what?” Eddie asks once the crying starts to subside.

“I’m the only–sniff–one at school who–hic–can’t tie my shoes!”

Eddie wrinkles his nose as he places a shoe-less Harris in his carseat. “I’m sure there are other kids who are still learning how to tie their shoes.”

“Nuh-uh,” Harris protests, straining against the seatbelt. “All the other kids tie their own shoes, but Ms. Sweetheart or Mr. Will have to tie mine.”

Eddie’s heart sinks as he thinks of his son being the outcast as the freak, the rest of his friends flying past him as he gets left behind. “Tell ya what,” he says finally, mustering up a smile, “I’ll teach you, and you’ll be able to tie them in no time.”

His offer placates Harris, who spends the rest of the time singing along to the radio. Eddie wishes it could always be like this; happy and carefree, just driving and listening to his favorite metal station with his mini-me. Maybe one day it’ll happen, but the fleeting sense of hope disappears as quickly as it comes. His time with Harris might be limited if he doesn’t get his shit together.

The job was a start; he was lucky that the hours coincided with school drop-off and pick-up so he didn’t have to reach out to Wayne. He’d been working at Rock Records for about a week, and while it was a far cry from the stardom he’d once dreamed of, it was paying the bills and still allowed him to spend his time around music. And when his manager–a twenty-year-old named Ash who used her phone line to talk to friends rather than answer store calls–heard that he plays guitar, she’d all but insisted that he give lessons. If he could get Wayne to watch Harris a few days after school, that would be even more money in his pocket.

But, first, he actually has to start talking to his uncle again.

He pulls into the preschool parking lot, killing the engine and hopping out to help Harris from his carseat. When he opens Harris’s door, he immediately deflates.

“Harris, where is your jacket?” Eddie asks, heaving an exasperated sigh.

The little boy just shrugs. “I dunno. At home?” It’s not his fault; the chilly early October air just began settling in, and he’s not accustomed to including his jacket into his morning routine. A look of realization creases his brows, another tantrum on the horizon. “Now I won’t be able to go out for recess!”

“Hey, hey,” Eddie says reassuringly, shrugging off his own denim, patch-riddled jacket, “you can take mine.” It’s comically oversized on Harris’s tiny body, but the smile on his face is enough to distract Eddie from the chill settling on his own arms.

“Daddy, now I’m just like you!” Harris sticks out his tongue and makes the ‘rock-and-roll’ symbol with his pointer and pinky fingers, scrunching his big brown eyes shut.

Eddie laughs, taking his son’s hand as they cross the parking lot. The way he copies him is adorable, but there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach when he pictures Harris actually following in his footsteps.

As soon as he enters the school, Harris lets go of his father’s hand and bounds into the classroom, the jacket dragging on the ground like a regal cloak. “Ms. Sweetheart, look at my jacket!” he proudly announces, twirling around on one leg. “It’s my daddy’s!”

You smile, crossing your arms over your chest as you shake your head teasingly. “Harris, is daddy wearing your jacket?”

“Nooooo,” he says, jutting out his chin and giggling. “It’s too small, silly!”

Eddie shuffles in behind him; after a month of drop-offs, he’s realized that he’s never going to win the battle of getting Harris to walk beside him in the hallway. “Don’t forget your backpack, little dude,” he reminds him, handing him his bag and motioning towards the row of cubbies.

Nodding, Harris hangs it up on the hook, along with Eddie’s jacket. He starts to run towards the toy area, stopping when he hears you call out, “Harris…”

“Huh? Oh, right.” He flashes that innocent smile, slowing his pace to a walk.

You shake your head knowingly, grabbing the clipboard with the sign-in sheet from your desk. Wordlessly, you give it to Eddie, who takes it with a sigh. This is how it goes most mornings: he drops off Harris, scribbles his signature, and stalks off without so much as a “good morning.” It’s not ideal, but it’s better than the barrage of insults and snide comments that he seemed to prefer to greet you with.

He drops the clipboard on top of the cubbies with a clatter, turning to the door, but the sound of a child shrieking stops him in his tracks before he can leave.

“Harris, no!”

Eddie’s stomach turns at the way the little girl angrily shouts his son’s name. Harris is frozen in place, holding a weird contraption that Eddie doesn’t recognize. The boy’s lower lip trembles, and all Eddie wants to do is pick him up and yell at the other kid for making him cry, but you get to the scene first.

“Abby, Harris, what happened?” you ask, crouching down to their eye-level. There’s no accusations, just a soothing tone to de-escalate the situation.

“He took my Bop-It!” Abby pouts, stamping her foot in frustration. “He stole it from me!”

Eddie feels his fists clench involuntarily at the word stole. Harris would never steal. He was a good kid, and having the Munson name didn’t automatically make him a thief. He tries to send a telepathic message to Harris, willing him to stand up for himself, but it doesn’t work.

You eye the toy in Harris’s hand–the Bop-It in question, you assume–and meet his shy gaze. “Did you take Abby’s toy?” Again, your voice is free of judgment, and Eddie allows himself to relax ever-so slightly when you don’t automatically take the girl’s side.

“I just wanted to see it real quick!” Harris mumbles, shoulders slumping. “I was gonna give it back.”

“What should you do when someone has something that you want to see?” you prompt him gently, feeling Eddie’s eyes scrutinizing you, analyzing your every move you make to see how you’re treating his son.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, eyes wide and misty.

“You have to ask them and then wait for them to say yes,” you say, and he nods as you swivel to face Abby Carver. “Abby, if someone forgets to ask to see your toy, you can remind them nicely. With an inside voice.”

“But he didn’t even say sorry for stealing!” she whines.

“It was an accident,” Harris rebuts, scrunching up his nose, “an’ I didn’t steal it!”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you turn back to him to end the argument before it can really start. Hell hath no fury like a preschooler scorned. “Saying ‘sorry’ is important, even when we accidentally make someone feel sad or mad,” you tell him.

“‘M sorry, Abby,” he says, handing her back the Bop-It. You can’t help but notice the way that he tucks his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, just like Eddie does when he’s anxious.

“It’s okay, Harris,” Abby says flatly, eager to flounce off to her friends and show them her toy, as Harris quietly joins some of the other boys to play with building blocks.

You press on your knees and stand up, finally allowing yourself to glance over at Eddie. He gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment; so subtle that you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. You’re not exactly sure what it means–thanks or good job or simply I’ll be back for pick-up–but he’s out the door before you can think about it further.

You really should have seen it coming. Should’ve listened to the proverbial alarm bells ringing when you’d heard the shower running. But you were exhausted from a long day at work; the Bop-It situation having kicked off a series of arguments between various groups of kids. At one point, you and Will had given up on storytime and basically played referee, just trying to keep the peace between tiny feuding humans.

You’re scraping the last bits of unfinished mashed potatoes into the garbage when you hear the crash. There’s a clatter of bottles and the pop pop pop of the shower curtain ripping off of its rings. Your blood runs cold and you nearly drop the plate you’re holding, palms suddenly slick with sweat.

“Grandma?” Your voice catches in your throat, a hoarse whisper, and you clear it and try again as you fly towards the bathroom. “Grandma?!”

There’s no answer; between the steady pounding of the shower and her own declining hearing, you expected just as much. You push open the door that she thankfully left unlocked to find her laying in the tub, tears mixing with the stream of water. She cradles her left wrist in her right hand, mumbling inaudibly to herself between heaving sobs.

“Grandma, what happened?” you ask, leaning over to finagle the knob to the “OFF” position.

She looks up as if she’s just realized you’re standing there, too disoriented and focused on the pain to take in any of her surroundings. “I fell.”

You reach for the powder blue towel hanging on the back of the bathroom door and pluck it off of its hook. “Here,” you say, draping it over her shoulders, “let me cover you and I’ll help you up.” It seems absurd to worry about modesty, given the urgency of the situation, but you can tell based on her sheepish demeanor that the small part of her that still feels shame is pinging in her brain. You tuck your hands under her arms, lifting with your knees and hoisting her to her feet. “Grab the bar,” you instruct her, nodding your head towards the silver safety bar lining the shower wall.

“Can I dry you off?” She gives a small nod, letting go to hold her swelling wrist. “Keep holding onto the bar. I don’t want you to slip and fall again.”

“But it hurts,” she whimpers, and you know this will be a losing battle. Even if she does agree to grab onto it again, she’ll almost certainly forget, and you'll have to start the whole process over. Instead, you carefully run the towel over her, watching as the cloth soaks up droplets and trying not to think about how backwards this all seems. There was a time where she was the one drying you off, lifting you out of your little bath seat in the kitchen sink and cooing at her beloved baby granddaughter, hope and joy filling her eyes. A time where life seemed limitless, and maybe she’d started to slow down, but she’d sworn that she’d always remember this moment. She couldn’t even imagine forgetting you.

Grabbing the pile of clothes from their spot on the tiled floor, you find her shirt and offer it to her. “I can help you put it on,” you tell her, toeing the line of preventing another fall and respecting her dignity.

Grandma’s lips curl into a frown and she shakes her head. “Those are dirty,” she protests.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to grasp onto the last bit of patience you have left. The words, You didn’t even go anywhere today rests on the tip of your tongue, but you swallow them down, force a smile, and say, “Okay. Let’s get you to your bed so you can sit down, and we’ll pick out new ones.”

She reluctantly agrees to this, and you slowly walk her to the bedroom and grab the first of everything you can find. A fuschia t-shirt and green sweatpants might not be her best look, but you’re not trying to style her for a runway show. After sliding her fluffy pink slippers over her feet, you help her up and guide her to the door, where she stops in her tracks.

“Can’t wear these outside,” she says simply, pointing to the slippers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure her, grabbing your keys from the small table tucked in the corner. “You can wear them outside this time.”

She doesn’t budge. “No, I need my other ones.” Her gaze lands on the pair of white Reeboks resting on the shoe rack. She starts to lean over to take them, but she’s still unsteady on her feet, and you wrap your arm around her torso before she can wobble.

“Just…just sit,” you mutter, feeling anger rise in your chest like a thundercloud. It wasn’t her fault that she was being stubborn, but it didn’t quell the burning frustration. You toss her rejected footwear to the side, silently reminding yourself to pick it up later, and shimmy her feet into the sneakers. You tie the laces into a double knot, pulling nice and tight, determined to keep it from unraveling.

Eddie’s day at work wasn’t much better than yours. After dropping Harris off at school, his first customer had been a middle-aged woman who claimed that a record had been scratched when she’d bought it a few weeks ago, insisting that Eddie had sold it to her that way. Which could have been the case, except he’d only started the job earlier that week.

All he wants now is a nice cold beer, but he has to wait until Harris goes to sleep. Years of watching his own father guzzle down Johnnie Walker until he fell into a drunken stupor led him to promise never to drink in front of his son.

“Bedtime, buddy!” he announces. He doesn’t even have to pretend to be excited; the second Harris dozes off, he’s going to crack open that Coors Light and watch the most mind-numbing show on TV.

Harris throws his head back in exasperation. “But Daaaaadyyyy, I’m not even tired!” His whine pierces Eddie’s eardrum, making him grimace.

“It’s 7:30, and it’s a school night,” he tells him, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “But tomorrow is Friday, so you can stay up a little later then.” He walks over to the tiny dresser pushed up against the wall, pulling out the bottom drawer and taking out a pair of dinosaur-print pajamas. “C’mon, let’s go. Pajamas, pee, and brush those teeth.”

“I’m…not…tired!” Harris screams at the top of his lungs. His cheeks flush beet-red, and spit gathers at the corners of his mouth.

Eddie clenches his fist around the pajamas, feeling his fingernails dig into the soft cotton. He inhales for three, then exhales for three, feeling the oxygen flow through his lungs. “Harris,” he manages through gritted teeth, “I’m going to count to five. And when I’m done, I want you doing your bedtime routine, or you’ll go to bed early tomorrow.” He takes one more deep breath, getting to two before Harris angrily snatches the pajamas from his grip and stomps off to the bathroom.

The boy only brushes his teeth for a grand total of ten seconds, but Eddie doesn’t have the stamina to argue about oral hygiene tonight. Tucking Harris into bed, he leans in to kiss him on the forehead, but he’s met with the back of his head.

Logically, he knows that there will come a time where Harris won’t want a kiss good night, won’t need his dad to help him into bed. Eddie just hadn’t planned on it being tonight.

“I hate you.” Harris’s voice is muffled from his lips being smushed into the pillow, but Eddie received the message loud and clear. It reverberates in his brain like an echo in a tunnel: I hate you I hate you I hate you.

Eddie backs out of the room slowly, flicking off the light and closing the door. He forgoes the shitty TV and sits in silence as he sips on his beer, letting the bitterness seep into his tongue before he swallows.

The venom in Harris’s voice was unmistakable. Eddie knew all too well how it felt to hate a parent. That raw anger swelled within him each time his father got them thrown out of another apartment, or conveniently forgot to pick up groceries (but always managed to remember his booze and drugs), or put his hands on Eddie.

My son hates me, Eddie thinks, taking a last swig of his drink and absentmindedly wiping the foam from his lips. I’m a shit dad, and my son hates me.

He’s too wrapped up in his own thoughts, leaving the sound of squeaking bed springs unnoticed until a loud thud followed immediately by the sound of Harris’s distraught wail snaps him to attention.

“Daddy!” Harris cries out, and Eddie’s sprinting to the bedroom before he can even finish the second syllable.

“What happened?” His voice is louder than he intends from the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and it only makes Harris cry harder. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not mad,” he says, softening his tone as he flicks on the light. His eyes widen when he sees the way his son’s arm is twisted.

“I couldn’t—sniffle—sleep, s-so I—sniffle—t-tried to j-jump my awake out,” Harris explains through hiccuping sobs. “An’ I h-hurted—sniffle—my arm.”

“C’mere, sshh, ‘s okay.” Eddie reassures him as he scoops him up, carefully avoiding his injury. “We gotta get you to the hospital so the doctors can fix it.”

Harris’s lower lip trembles again. “Are th-they gonna g-give me a sh-shot?”

“Nah, they’ll just have to do an x-ray,” he says, grimacing when he thinks of how much it’ll cost, even after Medicaid kicks in. “But those don’t hurt.”

Harris gives a tiny nod, still ambivalent as he nestles his head into the crook of his father’s neck. His curls tickle Eddie, who presses a kiss to the boy’s forehead and murmurs, “Daddy’s here, okay? I got you.” He feels Harris’s uninjured hand grab onto him a bit tighter as he brings him to the car.

“Can we go home now?”

You breathe out an exasperated sigh, leaning back in the chair and bouncing your leg anxiously. Hawkins General Hospital wasn’t crowded, and you and Grandma were taken to a room fairly quickly, but it still isn’t fast enough for an elderly woman who has no idea why she’s here.

“We have to wait a little longer for the doctor to see us,” you explain for the fourth time in as many minutes. “They have to make sure you don’t have a concussion.” Your answer seems to placate her, at least until she asks again within the next sixty seconds, as she hums her acknowledgment.

There’a a soft knock on the door, and a perky blonde nurse pokes her head in the room as soon as you give her permission to enter. “Hi, I’m Chrissy; I’ll be your nurse,” she says, looking at your grandmother. “What brings you in to see us tonight?”

“I’m just here with her,” Grandma shrugs, pointing to you.

“She slipped and fell in the shower,” you explain patiently. “I know she hurt her wrist, but I’m not sure if she hit her head, and she has Alzheimer’s…” You glance at her uneasily. “She doesn’t even remember falling.”

Chrissy nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile as she makes a note on her chart. “I can take you in for an x-ray of your wrist, and then we’ll run some tests to rule out a head injury as best as we can, okay, Mrs…” Her gaze shifts back to the chart before she brings her attention back to you. “Do you teach at Hawkins Preschool, by any chance?”

“Guilty as charged,” you give the best semblance of a laugh you can muster.

“I recognized your last name,” she says as she helps Grandma off of the examination table. “My daughter is in your class. Abigail Carver? She absolutely adores you.”

The compliment buzzes in your chest as your smile becomes more genuine. “Well, thank you. That means a lot. And she’s a great kid, too.” Except when she’s screeching at her friends, you think, but you keep that tidbit to yourself.

“I work nights, so my husband handles the school stuff,” Chrissy explains. “But I’m glad we finally got to meet, even if it’s under these circumstances.”

She hooks her arm through Grandma’s, who promptly shakes her off. “Let go of me!” the older woman snarls, shuffling back towards you. She may not know exactly who you are, but there’s at least a level of familiarity that brings her some comfort.

“I’ll walk with you,” you offer, and Chrissy agrees gratefully as the three of you gradually make your way down the starch-white hallway.

Unbeknownst to you, in a room just across the hall, Harris Munson is showing his dad how he can hop up and down on one leg without losing his balance.

Jesus H. Christ; does this kid ever run out of energy? Eddie silently wonders, but he plasters a smile on his face. “That’s really cool, Har-Bear. Just, uh, sit down before you hurt yourself even more.”

Harris is about to pout when a nurse enters the room. She’s probably in her mid-fifties, Eddie surmises, with brown hair that’s streaked gray and pulled back in a low bun.

“Harris Munson?” she asks shortly, and Eddie points to the little jumping bean standing next to him. “Come with me to the x-ray room.” She doesn’t offer her name, but Eddie catches a glimpse of the badge on her scrubs pocket that reads “Anna.”

Anna has Harris place his arm on the table, gingerly moving it to take x-rays from different angles. Standing in the doorway, Eddie winces at the tiny yelps his son lets out with each minimal adjustment. “You’re hurting him,” he manages through a bone-dry throat.

“If there is a break or sprain, we need to ensure that we find it,” she explains impatiently, retreating back to the room where she snaps a few more images before bringing them back to the room.

“Dad?”

“Mhm?”

“I’m sleepy now.” Harris punctuates his statement with a yawn, laying back on the examination table and dozing off just moments later.

Eddie takes his jacket–the same one that Harris wore at school that day–and places it over the boy’s sleeping body in a makeshift blanket. By the time the radiologist comes in to deliver the results, Eddie’s struggling to keep his own eyes open.

“How’re we doing in here?” she says, watching as Harris stirs, stretches his little legs, and promptly falls asleep again. “Is it past someone’s bedtime?”

“His and mine,” Eddie grumbles, wiping the sleep from his eyes and sitting up straighter. There’s a pinch in his lower back from slouching in the uncomfortable chair, and he grimaces as he tries to massage the sore spot.

“Well, you’ll be out of here soon. It looks like Harris did break his wrist, so we’ll need to get a cast on it, but we can discharge him as soon as it’s done.”

“Brilliant.” Eddie presses on his knees as he stands up to gently shake his son awake. “Hey, bud. It’s time to wake up so you can get a super cool cast.”

“Mmph,” Harris grunts, throwing his good arm over his eyes dramatically.

Eddie just laughs, not catching the concerned look on the doctor’s face as she flips through Harris’s chart. “C’mon, I’ll carry you, but you gotta help me out here.” Harris begrudgingly complies, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s waist and holding onto him as tightly as he can.

“It’ll only take about fifteen minutes,” the doctor explains, rubbing Harris’s back for good measure. “You can drop him off in this room, Mr. Munson. One of our nurses needs to speak with you.”

He doesn’t like the look on her face; the one that simultaneously gives away nothing and too much. Her lips press together in a thin smile, one that’s obviously forced, as an orthopedic technician guides Eddie into the next room.

The unfriendly nurse from earlier, Anna, is waiting for him outside the door.

“Mr. Munson, could I speak to you privately?” Eddie nods wordlessly, traipsing behind her back to the room where Harris had just been sleeping.

“Mr. Munson,” Anna begins, and Eddie swears he’ll punch a hole through the hospital’s wall if she keeps speaking in that condescending tone, “as you know, ensuring the safety and wellbeing of our patients, particularly our pediatric ones, is our top priority here at Hawkins General.” She pauses, as though he’s supposed to have some response to that, but he remains silent. “Given the nature of your son’s injury, coupled with the report that a nurse smelled alcohol on your breath when you entered our facility, we have to report this incident to Child Protective Services.”

Eddie’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head; his fists clench involuntarily, and he has to remind himself to steady his breathing. In for three, out for three. “There–there must be some mistake,” he stammers. “I had one beer after Harris went to bed–well, he was supposed to be in bed–and I was well under the legal limit when I brought him here.”

Anna cocks her head, and rage surges through Eddie’s bloodstream at her subtle gesture of disbelief. He didn’t even drink when his son was awake, let alone drive drunk. And the thought of him hurting Harris, whether under the influence of alcohol or not, was enough to turn his stomach. For fuck’s sake, he felt guilty if he accidentally stepped on the kid’s toes.

“Be that as it may,” the nurse continues, and Eddie swears she’s trying to suppress an eyeroll, “I also see that there was a previous report from 1992–”

“When he was born?” Eddie sputters. “That–that had nothing to do with me. His mom…”

Anna glances back down at Harris’s chart and frowns. “It looks like both you and Harris’s mother were listed in that report.” She looks up at Eddie again. “This is out of our hands now. CPS will take over from here and determine the next steps to take.” With that, she walks away, leaving Eddie leaning against the door with tears in his eyes.

All he can think about are the custody papers Wayne gave him. The way he’d angrily torn them up, taking them as a threat, rather than an offer to help. The way he’d blamed Wayne for his life going to shit.

I hate you, Harris had said earlier that evening.

Maybe Wayne was right. Maybe Harris was better off without his dad around to fuck up everything in his path.

You’re waiting at the front desk for Grandma’s discharge papers when you hear an excited voice call out your name; rather, his nickname for you.

“Ms. Sweetheart!”

You turn around to see Harris Munson running towards you, sporting a bright orange cast on his wrist. “What happened to you?” you ask with a smile–a genuine one, this time. That little boy always manages to cheer you up.

“I was trying to jump my awake out and I breaked my wrist,” he says. “So then my daddy taked me here and I got this cast. See?” He holds out his arm two inches from your eyes, as though the neon color wasn’t already a dead giveaway.

“That is the coolest cast I’ve ever seen,” you tell him. “I broke my leg once, and I just got a boring white one.” You pout your lips exaggeratedly, making Harris laugh. “I bet all the kids in school will wanna sign it tomorrow.”

Harris breaks out into a giant grin. “They can sign it?”

“Sure can!”

He thinks for a moment and asks, “Will you sign my cast, Ms. Sweetheart?” He looks up at you with those soft brown eyes, and you feel yourself start to melt.

Before you can answer him, your Grandma speaks up. “I’m leaving,” she declares, already trying to take off the sling that the nurse gave her for her sprained wrist.

“I just need to sign you out, Grandma,” you explain. “And remember, you need to keep the sling on so your wrist can heal.”

“Fuck you, bitch,” she hisses. “I hate you.”

Your face heats up, embarrassed at her outburst and at the fact that it happened in front of a student and his parent. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, though you’re unsure if you’re apologizing more to Eddie or to Harris. “She has Alzheimer’s…she doesn’t know…”

You expect Eddie to laugh at your misfortune, but when your eyes flicker to his face, you only see sympathy.

“‘S okay,” he says softly, putting a ringed hand on Harris’s shoulder. “I feel like swearing, too, after the night we’ve had.”

You offer a weak smile, still processing the unfamiliar kindness that he’s showing. “Thanks,” you manage, just as the receptionist hands you the discharge paperwork. “I’ll see you both at school tomorrow?”

“And you can sign my cast!” Harris exclaims, flashing a toothy grin. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You ruffle his hair, leading Grandma out to the car before she can conjure up another slew of swear words.

Eddie wakes up the next morning still exhausted. He rolls over, catching a glimpse of Harris still sleeping soundly in his racecar bed. He’s tempted to let him sleep in a bit, maybe take the day off from school, but he knows how badly he wants Ms. Sweetheart to sign his cast.

Ms. Sweetheart.

He’d been thinking about you all night. The way your calm, confident demeanor had faltered when your grandma cursed at you and said she hated you. The way you caved in a bit, as though her words had punctured you.

You hadn’t reacted like that when Eddie called you a bitch; you’d simply carried on as though the words meant nothing to you.

Because they did mean nothing to you. Because he meant nothing to you. He was just another drop in the douchebag bucket, and once you’d gotten over the initial sting of rejection, you’d moved on. And so had he.

Right?

He tries to shake these thoughts from his mind as he gets Harris ready for school, but it’s nearly impossible when all the kid can talk about is how he saw Ms. Sweetheart at the hospital and how she’s going to sign his cast today.

“She’s the bestest teacher I’ve ever had,” Harris tells Eddie, shoving a spoonful of Cheerios into his mouth.

“She’s the only teacher you’ve ever had, buddy,” Eddie reminds him, but Harris remains unfazed.

Sure enough, you’re waiting outside the classroom door, black Sharpie in hand. Harris’s eyes light up when he spots you.

“Ms. Sweetheart! You remembered!”

“Of course I remembered,” you say, uncapping the marker and crouching down to his level. Both Eddie and Harris watch intently as you write your signature, complete with a little heart.

Ms. Sweetheart ♡

“Go ahead and unpack,” you tell Harris. “Once you finish your morning routine, we can have your friends sign it, too.”

“Okay!” He starts to run, but crawls to a stop. “Gotta use my walking feet in the classroom.”

You give him a thumbs-up, turning back to hand Eddie the sign-in sheet.

“I’ll be damned,” he chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. “I’ve been trying to get that kid to slow down since he learned how to run. Swear to God, he skipped right over the ‘walking’ stage and went straight to sprinting.”

You laugh at his remark, taking the clipboard back from him. “Try the walking feet trick. I’ll let you borrow it, free of charge.”

“Much appreciated.” He starts to leave, but stops before he can fully turn his back to you. “How’s your grandma, by the way?”

His kind gesture catches you off-guard, but you recover quickly. “Already giving me a hard time about the sling, but that’s the home health aid’s problem until I get back.”

Eddie steps forward, awkwardly resting his hand on your upper arm for just a second. He’s not exactly sure what he’s doing, or why, but it felt like the right move. “Well, uh, good luck. With the whole ‘sling’ fiasco.”

“I’ll need it.”

He smiles, and you easily return it. It’s an olive branch, one that you eagerly reach out and take. It’s not much, but it’s more than he’s ever given you.

Eddie’s walking back down the hallway, feeling as though a weight has been lifted off of his overburdened shoulders, when he hears it:

“...reported to CPS. Apparently, this isn’t the first time it’s happened.”

No. No. There’s no way that they could be talking about him.

He rounds the corner towards the school lobby to see Carol Perkins talking to Steve Harrington, her hushed whisper not soft enough to prevent other people from hearing.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Yup,” Carol nods. “Something about when he was born? Like, how bad of a parent do you have to be to get reported to CPS as soon as your kid is born?”

Eddie feels the bile rise in his throat. His suspicions are further confirmed when she adds, “And get this–he was drinking when he brought Harris to the hospital. That’s why I’ll never let Frankie play at his house.”

There’s no way he can just walk past them and act like he hadn’t heard anything, so he decides to wait until they finish their conversation. They made him sound like some sort of neglectful alcoholic who disregards his son’s safety. They made him sound like his dad.

As Steve and Carol say their goodbyes, Eddie takes one last glance back towards the classroom. You’re cheerfully greeting an adoring student, ruffling her hair like you did to Harris at the hospital last night.

Eddie sucks in a quick breath. You were there last night. You were also in the orthopedic wing, as evidenced by your grandma’s injury. You had been humiliated in front of him for the second time; the first was when Eddie hadn’t called you after the one-night stand. And now you wanted revenge.

No wonder you were so friendly this morning. This whole time, you were just waiting for him to slip up. Waiting for him to have his moment of weakness. Now he knows better than to trust you. He won’t make that mistake again.

@littlepotatobeansworld @kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @definitelynotecho @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

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#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

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lee-laurent · 4 months ago

Text

Falling Fast - Luke Hughes

Summary: Luke and Tori finally realize how much they need each other. John starts to question if he can really ever get over Tori

content: fluff, LOTS OF FLUFF, slight angst, mentions of sex but no smut, money issues, oc x ex!john marino

wc: 2.2k

notes: PART 4 of the 'done trying' series! go check out parts 1-3 if you haven't already! this one is heavily tori and luke focused. not a lot of riley in this one. also some john moments. but mostly luke and tori!! my favs!!! ENJOY!!

The front door swung open, revealing an exhausted John. Riley was sitting on Tori's lap on the couch, Scooby Doo playing on the TV, a pacifier in his mouth. Tori didn't even look up at the sound of the door, continuing to stroke her son's hair. She'd finally got him settled, after having a meltdown over his bath. Finally dressed in his pjs and calm, Tori was not about to get up and ruin that. She was slightly aware of what had happened at practice thanks to a text from Luke. She wasn't mad at Luke, just John.

"Dada?" Riley mumbled, his eyes half closed.

"Yeah, bubba. Dada's home," Tori whispered back, pressing a kiss to the back of his head.

John entered the living room, leaving a cushion of space between himself and his ex-girlfriend. She didn't even look in his direction, focusing solely on the show playing on the TV. He sighed, earning Riley's attention.

"Dada has boo-boo!"

"Dada's okay, baby. I promise," John forced a smile.

"Hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay, Ri. Dada just fell at work."

"O-tay," the toddler nodded, cuddling back into his mom's chest. Tori would never get over how compassionate Riley was. He cared about everyone so much, especially his parents. She looked at John through the corner of her eyes, noting the black eye that their son was concerned about.

"There are frozen peas in the freezer," was all she said, returning to humming along with the theme song.

"Thanks," John huffed, moving to the kitchen.

"You ready for bed, sleepy boy?"

Riley nodded, tucking his head into Tori's neck. She stood up, carrying him down the hall to his room. She hummed a lullaby, rocking him until his eyes finally closed. With a click of a button, white noise filled the room and Tori was finally able to breathe easy. At least for a second.

"Here," she frowned, shoving a blanket and pillow into John's arms.

"What?"

"For the couch. So it's a bit more comfortable."

"Oh. Uh, thanks?"

"Yeah. Whatever. If he sleeps all night tonight, feel free to move back out. And don't make a habit of beating up my boyfriend, that's not the model you should be setting for your son."

"Boyfriend?"

"That's all you got from that?" she rolled her eyes, filling up her water bottle.

"So, he's your boyfriend now?"

"Not officially."

"But in your head he is, huh? You really think he can fill that hole in your heart?"

She could feel the anger bubbling in her chest, but took a deep breath, not wanting to argue with Riley trying to sleep.

"Grow up."

John scoffed, "My parents are coming this weekend. Can Riley stay at mine?"

"Why can't they come here and see him?"

"Because they don't..."

"They don't like me. I get it. Sure. I'll pack his bag in the morning."

"Are you gonna go see Pop and Nanny?" Tori smiled, helping Riley put on his little backpack.

"Pop 'n Nanny!"

"Yes! Pop and Nanny! Can Mama have a hug goodbye?"

"Bye, Mama! 'Uv 'oo!"

"I love you too, baby! Be good for Dada!"

"I'll have him back here Monday morning?" John offered.

"Yeah, that works. See ya."

"Bye."

With John gone, Tori could actually breathe. She started by cleaning up Riley's room and then the living room. Making herself a cup of coffee and turning on her favourite movie, "Dead Poets Society." She'd invited Luke to stay the weekend, so now she was just waiting for his arrival.

"Miss me?" a voice rang through the apartment.

She pulled herself off the sofa, throwing her arms around the taller boy.

"Yeah. A lot. Let me see your lip," she pulled his face down closer to hers, inspecting his busted lip.

"You should see the other guy."

"I did. He looks worse," she shook her head, failing to hide her smirk. "I'm so sorry, babe. He shouldn't have gone after you like that."

"It's fine, V. He's just... getting over you. Slowly."

"Trust me, I know. Come sit, I missed cuddling you."

"What else did you miss about me?" he teased.

"Nothing. Just the cuddles. Although you'll always be second to Riley on the cuddle scale. He's a pro."

"I bet he is. How're you feeling about him being with John this weekend?"

"Way to tear the Band-Aid off, Hughes!"

"Sorry, sorry."

"No, I, uh... I don't know. It's fine, I guess. I know he's safe with John, I just... things with John are really shit right now. And I know he's gonna tell his parents and then things with them will get even more shit. It's such a snowball effect."

"You've got me. I'll support you, baby."

"Thanks, Lu," she nuzzled her nose against his, giving him a quick peck.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Shoot."

"Well... we've been on a few dates now... and I, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to be my girlfriend?"

Tori hesitated, pretending to think over her answer, "Of course I'll be your girlfriend, Luke."

"Phew! You scared me for a second there."

"I just... I'm not sure how kindly John will take to that."

"Doesn't matter right now, love. We've got the whole weekend to ourselves. Where should we start?"

"Movie?"

"Movie it is."

"This is sad," Luke complained, shifting Tori on his lap.

"So? You made me watch Secretariat."

"I didn't make you watch anything."

"Whatever. You know what I meant. Also shut up."

"Never. We both know you secretly love hearing me yap."

"Meh."

"Don't lie, Tori. You could listen to me talk allllll day," he teased.

"Maybe. I'd rather listen to you than Jack... don't tell him I said that."

"HA! I won't... I won't. But seriously, this movie is so sad."

"It's a masterpiece, Lu. You just don't get it like I do."

"Guess I'm not woke like you."

"Shut up. This part is good."

"Why're they standing on the desks?"

"Stop asking questions!"

"I'm just a little lost, baby."

"They're standing in solidarity with their teacher."

"So they got on top of their desks? That'd get you a detention."

Tori leaned up, kissing him swiftly, "Shut up. And you'll get more of that."

"Deal," he smirked, watching the credits roll.

"You're taking up the whole bed," Luke complained, scooching away from the edge.

"No, I'm not."

"You totally are. You're half my size and taking up double the space."

"I'm comfy."

"I'm not."

"Boo fucking hoo."

"Babe," he whined.

"Fine," she moved over, laughing as Luke quickly pulled her in to spoon.

"You smell so good," he mumbled into her hair.

"Thanks, babe."

"You're like a fucking heater. I love it."

"Lu."

"Hm?"

"Shut up and sleep."

"Make me."

She shook her head, flipping over and straddling him. He smirked, his hands planted firmly on her hips.

"Hi."

"Hi, Lu," she leaned down, connecting their lips.

"I could kiss you forever."

"Then stop talking and kiss me."

"Yes, ma'am!"

Luke hated early mornings, in fact he was known for sleeping in. As a mom, Tori couldn't say she was the same. She was up every morning at 7 like clockwork. "Sleeping in" to her was waking up at 8. So as she lay staring at the ceiling, her boyfriend snoring next to her, she felt so useless. She needed to be up doing something. Cleaning. Making breakfast. Going on a walk. Taking a shower. Anything but this. She was accomplishing nothing!

"Luke."

Nothing.

"Luke," she shook him slightly. He just groaned, pulling her closer to him. She laughed, maybe she could sleep for a little bit longer.

Two hours later, she was awake again. This time thinking of ways she could convince Luke to get out of bed. She started by flipping in his arms, tracing her finger over his bare chest. He stirred, letting out a quiet hum. She traced her fingers over his abs, feeling the ridges under her fingertips. God, he was hot. He reached out, grabbing her wrist.

"Don't start something you can't finish," he mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Who said I wanted it to end," she giggled, his grip on her loosened. His eyes opening very slightly.

"I'm listening..."

"Well, I need a shower. And I thought... I don't know, maybe you'd like to join."

"Yeah?" he smirked.

"Mhm."

"Let's go."

"Let me under the water!" Tori complained, Luke's height blocking any of the warm water from hitting her bare body.

"But it's sooooo relaxing."

"Yeah? And I'm fucking freezing! Let me in!"

"Fine," he huffed, standing behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his front. She sighed contently, finally being able to embrace the warmth of the water. He slowly snuck his hand up her body, resting it to cup right under her breast.

"What're you doing, Lukey?"

"Enjoying the shower with my smoking hot girlfriend."

She giggled, a blush covering her face. She turned in his arms, kissing him passionately.

"Wanna finish what you started?" he teased.

"Gladly."

"What shampoo is it?" Luke asked, looking at all the bottles lining the wall.

"We're wasting water at this point. I don't have the money for this," Tori sighed worriedly.

"Are you... are you being sarcastic?"

"No, Luke. I'm not a loaded NHL player. Water costs money. We should just get out."

"Babe, shhh. All is well. I'll pay the extra amount on the water bill. I promise."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't, you're right. But I want to. Now which bottle is the shampoo? I wanna give you a relaxing shampooing."

"It's the red one," she sighed, allowing Luke to run his hands through her hair. She needed this. The stress melted away as he massaged at her scalp, admiring the small hums that left her mouth.

"You're so pretty, Tori."

"Thanks, Lukey."

"Any time, baby. Now... for the body wash."

She let out a loud laugh, smacking her hand against his chest, "I can manage that part."

"Are you sure? Might be difficult."

"I've got it."

"Would you mind helping me?"

"Luke Hughes, you dog."

"What?! Can't help it when you're this fucking beautiful."

She blushed, "Thanks, Lu."

"That's what I'm here for. To make sure you know that you're the most important girl in the world."

The couple was laying on the couch, Tori running her hand through Luke's hair. He was watching some hockey thing on the TV that she didn't understand, occasionally pointing out details to her. Her phone started buzzing, a sigh leaving her mouth as she swiped to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Victoria! How've you been, love?" her mother asked excitedly.

"Oh, um... okay. Just watching some TV."

"Where's my Riley?"

"At John's. His parents are in town. They wanted some time with him, I guess."

"Well, awfully rude of them to take him away from his mother. Especially when you were just fixing that sleep schedule of his."

"Mom, it's not-"

"Don't say it's not a big deal, Victoria! It is. They are so rude to you."

"Mom-"

"Let me finish! They never consider how you feel about things. I just... I wish they'd listen to you, dear."

"Mom, all is well. Riley loves spending time with his dad. And I get some much needed time to relax."

"That is nice, isn't it? Some much needed you time. Not you and Riley time."

"It's lovely. I'm just here with-"

"With Ally? Hi, Ally!"

"No, Mom!" Tori laughed, "Luke."

"Oh, Luke! How lovely! How is he?"

"He's good, he's good. Half asleep, but good."

"I can't believe you're finally dating again! Only took you over a year."

Tori rolled her eyes, "Yes, I know, Mom. Why'd you call?"

"Just wanted to check in. Make sure you're not too overwhelmed. See if you needed some money."

"We're actually doing alright, at the moment. I had enough to get Riley some extra snacks this week."

"Oh! Isn't that just wonderful! Remember if you ever need a few extra dollars..."

"I know, Mama. I love you."

"I love you, Vicky! Talk to you soon."

"Bye, Mom."

"Your mom seems nice," Luke commented, his voice muffled by Tori's shirt.

"Hm? Yeah, she's the best."

"I, uh, I didn't realize you were having... money problems."

"It's not something I enjoy talking about. John's child care is my saving grace most times. I just... I want Riley to have everything he needs."

"I-"

"Don't offer me any money, Hughes. I'll dump your ass right here, right now. I'm a strong, independent woman."

"Of course. I know you are, babe."

"Thanks for staying with me this weekend, Lu."

"Whenever you need it."

"How would you feel about formally spending some time with Riley?"

"Really?!" he sprung up, his eyes wide.

"Yeah. Why? Are- are you not ready for that?"

"No! No! I'm so ready! I just... are you ready?"

"I mean, I won't tell him you're my boyfriend. He won't understand that. But... I want him to meet you. Spend some time together. Cause... if you guys don't click... I don't know what I'd do."

"Well, let's set up a playdate!" Luke grinned, reassuringly rubbing her back.

"Okay, yeah. Let's do it."

God, how would John react when he found out Riley was spending time with Luke? Fingers-crossed that he won't overreact. Tori wasn't sure she could deal with anymore dramatic arguments with her ex. Guess she'd have to wait and see.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #john marino #njd imagine

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roosterforme · 2 years ago

Text

The Purrfect Storm | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley inadvertently becomes a pet owner after he hits a stray with his Bronco. When he meets a lovely vet tech who is willing to help, both Bradley and the cat fall for her instantly.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, a bit of angst

Length: 6000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written for a request! Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was on his way home late from work, anxious to get there before the sky opened up. Dark, ominous clouds had just moved in, signaling a rare downpour was about to hit San Diego.

He zipped along an empty, wooded side street just as a loud crack of thunder rocked his Bronco. Then his headlights caught something gray dashing out of the trees, and he tried his best to swerve, but he was afraid he had just hit an animal.

"Damn it," he muttered, pulling over and turning on his hazard lights. He jumped out of the Bronco to see if he could spot anything in the roadway. The wind was picking up, and he could feel the first few drops of rain, but as soon as Bradley saw the gray cat that was no longer able to walk correctly, he ran toward it.

When he got closer he saw a little bit of blood matted in its fur, and he immediately felt like a villain. He also had no idea how to take care of an injured cat.

"Here kitty?" he said awkwardly as he approached the immobile animal. He was greeted with a loud, angry meow. "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry I hit you. But can you just be chill while I pick you up?"

As soon as he had both hands around the middle of the cat, it sank its sharp teeth into the back of his hand.

"Ow! Son of a bitch!" Bradley yelled, getting pelted with more raindrops. "I'm trying to help you now, you ungrateful little shit!"

Big, angry yellow eyes looked up at him as he clamped the cat's mouth shut with one big hand and then tried to scoop it up again. This seemed to work better, so he carted it back to the Bronco and set it on the back seat floor area.

"Just relax, I know where there's a veterinary clinic," he told it with an eye roll before he climbed back in and pulled away.

Bradley navigated a lot slower now that the rain was coming down. But when he pulled into the clinic parking lot, he only saw one light on inside. There was someone moving around at the front desk, so he hopped out into the pouring rain and gently held the cat with its mouth closed. He knocked on the door with his knuckle and watched the woman behind the front desk look at him a little warily before she headed toward the door.

---------------------

You were alone in the clinic with the door locked, trying to finish the weekly audit so you could leave. You always stayed late on Thursday nights, and now you were going to have to drive home in this crazy storm.

When you heard someone knocking on the door, you jumped in your seat. You tried to see who it was, but the rain was obscuring the window portion of the door, so you made your way over only to find a soaking wet man in a naval uniform holding a drenched cat.

"I'm sorry, we're closed," you told him loudly through the door.

He glared at the cat and then tilted his head back and let the rain pour on his face for a beat. Finally he groaned and looked at you with pleading eyes. "You can't do anything? I hit this cat on my way home from work!"

You sighed and looked at all of his insignia pins, including his nametag. Bradshaw. It was pretty unlikely that an officer was here to murder you, especially since a good portion of your clients were naval families. Plus, he had actually brought the injured animal here instead of leaving it in the road.

"I can take a quick look," you told him as you unlocked the door. When you opened it and finally got a good look at him, you went a little speechless. He was really tall and really muscular. And even with his brown hair wet and messy across his forehead, you could tell he was really handsome. "Come on in," you managed to say, and he slipped inside with the cat. You locked the door behind him.

"Thanks. I really appreciate this. I feel terrible enough about what happened, but this cat hates me so much right now, I'd be a little afraid to take it to my house with me in this condition."

You laughed as he winced at you, and you immediately noticed the teeth marks on the back of his hand.

"Oh, he got you good," you remarked. "Definitely doesn't like you too much at the moment. Let's see if I can get him patched up."

"It's a male?" officer Bradshaw asked as you signalled for him to follow you back to an exam room.

"Yeah, I figured he was, because he's huge. But he definitely is. I could tell when you held him up."

Bradley scoffed. "I should have known. Females are usually more accommodating towards me."

You laughed softly and said, "I'll bet they are," under your breath. But then you realized that you were the sucker who agreed to let him get his cat checked out after hours. So you definitely shouldn't be surprised.

"Up on the table," you instructed, and you watched him release the cat and take a huge step away from it. "Aww, come on. He's a sweetheart!" you said, stroking the cat and making him purr. "What did he ever do to you?"

You watched officer Bradshaw hold up his bloody hand with a bland look.

"That's totally fair since you ran him over," you said with a smirk. "And I'll look at your hand after I see how much damage there is to his leg here."

"Thank you," he muttered, reaching for a paper towel to press against his hand while he dripped water all over the floor. "I appreciate it. I'm Bradley, by the way."

You glanced at him briefly and smiled as you told him your name. "And what's the cat's name?"

Bradley just shrugged. "He doesn't have a collar, and he's pretty grungy. He's probably a stray."

"You should name him then," you said as you felt around the cat's leg with gentle fingers. It was a pretty clean break that you would be able to take care of tonight without the vet here.

"Sunshine," Bradley said sarcastically. "His name is Sunshine." You looked up at him, and he was smiling at you and the cat, his handsome features betraying his stern voice as he smiled.

"Did you hear that, Sunshine? Your daddy clearly thinks the world of you, and he's going to take the best care of your leg after I splint it."

"I am?" he asked, leaning closer to you. "Come on, doc. I can't keep this cat. He'll kill me in my sleep," he reiterated, holding up his hand and the bloody paper towel. He wasn't wearing a ring.

You laughed at the concerned look on his face. "Okay, first of all, I'm not the vet. I'm just a tech. Second, someone needs to take care of Sunshine, and I think that someone is going to be you. And third, girls dig guys who have pets. Does that help make this more appealing for you?"

He took another step closer to you, and your breath caught in your throat. He was just a few inches away and glaring playfully at you. "First of all, you seem to know what you're doing well enough, so you could have lied and told me you were the vet. Second, Sunshine here will have me sleeping with one eye open. And third, yeah, maybe that does make this more appealing to me."

Your belly swooped, and you had to bite your lip. His brown eyes were the color of deep amber up close, and his mustache made everything he said seem more playful.

"And fourth," he added, "do all women dig men who have pets? Or are you speaking from personal preference here? Either way, it does sound appealing to me."

You were gaping at him now, and a startled laugh escaped your parted lips.

Meow!

"Sorry, Sunshine," you told the cat, patting his matted, damp fur until he was calm again. "You're right. This is about you, not Bradley." You positioned yourself in front of the cat and grinned over your shoulder. "I think it's all women, but it's definitely me," you whispered with a smile. You were met with a crooked grin as Bradley pushed his damp hair back from his face.

"Good to know," he told you softly.

And now it was time to get to work. You made a mental list of all of the supplies you would need, then you turned to Bradley and reached for his good hand. He grabbed onto yours without hesitation. "Here, keep a hand on Sunshine and make sure he stays on the table," you said, running your thumb along his calloused fingers.

"Alright," he said a bit reluctantly, squeezing your hand before letting go of you and holding the cat.

"I'll be right back with everything I need for the splint."

------------------------

Bradley watched you leave the small room, and he took a second to breathe in deeply and let it out slowly. You were fucking adorable. And he was very attracted to you.

"Don't mess this up for us now," he told the cat as he waited for you to return. By the sound of things, the storm was still raging outside, but Bradley was in no hurry to leave anyway. He was still wet from the rain, and he probably looked like a mess, but it didn't matter. He'd stay here all night with you if you'd let him.

You strolled back into the room with some bandages, splints, and a weird thing covered in velcro. "This will only take a minute," you told him and Sunshine with a smile. He watched you measure the split against the cat's leg before cutting it to length. Then you set the bone in place with your fingers, gently talking the whole time so the cat would stay calm. Next you quickly wrapped the splint up tight with the bandage.

"Now I need your help," you told Bradley, and you took his hand again. "Hold this bandage just like that so I can clip it in place."

Bradley did exactly as he was told, and soon you were wrapping the velcro around everything to keep the cat's leg in one position.

"Done!"

"Impressive," Bradley remarked. Even the cat looked way calmer now as he curled up on the exam table and ate the snack you gave him.

"Okay, now let me check you out," you said, holding out your small hand and letting him rest his palm against yours. "I'll need to clean it to get a better look," you told him, gazing up at him. "Might sting a bit."

"I can handle it," he reassured you as you led him to the sink.

"I'm sure you can... Lieutenant? Is that what I'm looking at here?" you asked, nodding to the pins on his chest as you sprayed his hand with an antiseptic and dabbed at it with a cotton ball.

"Yes, ma'am. Lieutenant Bradshaw," he told you, earning a smile.

"At ease, sailor." Your gaze was playful as you looked up at him and grabbed a clean cotton ball.

"Aviator, actually," Bradley informed you.

"Oh, wow. Your daddy is fancy," you said over your shoulder to the cat who was now grooming himself on the exam table.

"I still can't believe I have a cat now," he muttered, making you laugh as you taped some sterile gauze to the back of his hand. "You should give me your number since I don't know what I'm doing. You know... just in case. You wouldn't want Sunshine to suffer in any way, would you?"

You smirked up at him as you finished taping him up. Bradley just gave you his most innocent look in return. "You're something else," you told him.

"Something good?" he asked, and he watched your lips curl into a soft smile.

A loud rumble of thunder had Sunshine standing up and hissing. "It's okay," you told him, turning to reach for him, but then the power went out, bathing everything in complete darkness.

Bradley heard a thump that sounded like Sunshine had jumped off the table, and when he reached out, the cat was no longer there.

"Oh no, he's loose somewhere in the building," you said, taking out your phone and turning on the flashlight. "Sunshine!" you called, shaking the bag of cat treats. Bradley followed you out into the hallway, but he bumped into the back of you.

"Sorry," he said, stopping himself with his hands on your shoulders.

"It's okay," you said softly as he took his hands away from you and tucked them into his wet pockets.

"Can he hurt anything? Or get hurt?" Bradley asked, looking up and down the hallway as you shone the light around.

"Aww, you sound like a concerned pet parent."

Bradley groaned. "He's growing on me, I think."

Your laughter rang out in the semi-darkness before the light went out.

"Shit, my phone died," you told him.

Bradley checked his only to find he had about ten percent of his battery left. "Mine is not far behind yours."

"Don't use it, just in case we need to call someone," you said, turning to face him. Bradley could feel your hands on his chest very briefly. "Oh, there you are," you said softly. "Come with me to the waiting room, and I'll get you some towels."

Bradley felt your fingers dance down along his arm until they tangled with his. Then you were leading him back to the front of the building. It was a little easier to see up here, as a streetlight outside provided some light.

"Don't move," you instructed softly, and Bradley could make out the shape of your profile as you turned away from him and disappeared.

He was stuck here now. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful or upset. But he couldn't leave Sunshine loose in the clinic for the night. And he supposed you were stuck here too, since you couldn't leave him here alone with his dumb cat.

Bradley saw you in the shadows when you returned. "I got you some towels and a set of scrubs you can change into. My boss is about your size."

"Thanks," he replied, taking everything from your hands. "Where should I change?"

You laughed. "It doesn't matter. I can't see you."

"What if the power comes back on?!"

You laughed harder, and Bradley loved the sound. "Go back behind my desk, and I'll turn around."

Bradley took a few steps and then slammed into a file cabinet. "Ow!"

"Oh sorry, don't hit the file cabinet," you said in a sweet voice laced with laughter.

"Don't worry. I won't." Bradley awkwardly stripped out of his damp uniform and underwear with you standing ten feet away from him. He had to peel the fabric from his skin and hang it over your chair as neatly as he could.

"So you're an aviator. What do you fly? Super Hornets? Helicopters? Comanches?" you asked as he ran one of the towels along his naked body.

"You know a lot about naval aircrafts. And to answer your question, Super Hornet." He slipped into the well worn scrubs and tied them up at the waist. They were a little snug, as was the shirt, but it was better than being wet.

"It's hard to live near Fightertown and not pick up on a few things," you told him. "You need help getting back around the file cabinet?"

"Nah, I'm good," he said, and somehow he found your hand in the darkness. And somehow you let him hold it.

You laced your fingers with his and softly said, "Maybe we should try to find Sunshine one more time? Otherwise, I think we're stuck here for the night."

Bradley silently prayed that Sunshine was tucked safely away somewhere he couldn't be found in the dark. "That's a good idea," he confirmed out loud. Because he did feel kind of bad making you stay at your workplace all night, especially since he barged in on you unannounced with the cat. "I'm sorry I've been such an inconvenience when you were just trying to be helpful."

"Don't worry about it. I'm a sucker for injured animals. And brunettes."

Jesus. Bradley had been afraid maybe you had a boyfriend or something. But now you were flirting with him again, just like you had been earlier. You were also holding his hand a little tighter. And each time you wanted to change directions, you placed your other palm on his chest.

"This is kind of fun," he murmured when you had your palm on his chest, guiding him into a different exam room.

"Is it?" you asked with a giggle.

"Yeah," he said, smiling as you pushed him where you wanted him to go. "It feels like one of those games from when you were in high school, you know? Spending time alone with a cute girl in the dark."

He could hear you exhale and feel it against his neck. You were so close to him. "Seven minutes in heaven?" you asked close to his ear.

"Yeah, seven minutes in heaven," he confirmed, grinning like a lunatic.

"I never played that in high school," you told him, letting go of his chest to feel around the exam table for the cat. "Did you?" He felt your palm come to rest on him again.

"Once or twice. But I was a real nerd back then. I just made it further with you than I ever did in high school," he admitted. Your soft laughter filled the room, and now Bradley was praying in earnest that Sunshine was very, very well hidden until the morning.

"I find it hard to believe you used to be a nerd. You're very...."

"I'm very what?" he asked as you effortlessly lured him all around the dark clinic with you.

"Sizeable," you told him as you ended up back in the hallway again.

"Sizeable?" he balked. "Did you just call me large?"

You were laughing again, and he really wished he could see your face right now. "I meant it as a compliment!" you insisted.

"Ohhh," he said, feigning ignorance. "You must have never given someone a compliment before. Here, let me show you how. You're funny, smart, and very cute."

"Thank you," you whispered, leading him into one more exam room.

"I wasn't done yet. You're also surprisingly good at navigating in the dark."

You laughed again, and your hand landed on his chest, but this time it was because you tripped and ended up pushing him up against the wall.

"I take that back, you're terrible at navigating in the dark," he whispered, keeping his fingers laced with yours and steadying you with his other hand at your waist. "Are you okay?"

This time your breathy laugh was very close to him. "You know, I was going to pretend I tripped on your cat, but I think you've just got me flustered. It's a good thing you're so sizeable, otherwise you might be splinting my leg right now."

Bradley felt your hand move up to the scars on his neck, and your fingers danced to his ear and up into his hair. He guided you a little closer so your entire body was skimming against his, and he could hear your breath hitch.

"Yeah, it's a good thing," he agreed. His eyes fluttered closed in the dark, and he instinctively found your lips with his. One chaste kiss led to another and another, your lips brushing his. You parted your lips just enough to tease his bottom lip as your fingers gently pulled through his messy hair, and Bradley felt you melt into him. His heart was beating faster now, and he wanted to push you up against the wall.

Meow!

You gently released his lips, rubbing your nose against his as you took a small step away from him. Bradley quickly laced his fingers with yours again and cleared his throat.

"That didn't sound like Sunshine," Bradley said, trying to keep you as close as possible. He sighed in relief as your palm found its way to his chest again.

"It wasn't," you whispered. "There's a cat in a kennel in the back room. Let's go check on her."

So Bradley followed your lead to the end of the hallway, his heart still beating a little fast.

"This is Ginger," you told him, guiding him over to a large cage. He could barely make out the cat inside with the scant light coming through the window.

"What's wrong with her?" Bradley asked, kneeling down to get a better look.

You sighed, never releasing his hand. "Her owner, if you can even call him that, didn't bring her here in time after she had a broken leg. You're really a very good pet daddy to Sunshine, even though you are clearly reluctant." You squeezed his hand.

"What's going to happen to Ginger?" he asked, reaching his fingers through the cage to pet her fur. She meowed and nudged his fingers with her head.

"Not sure yet. Her owner won't sign the paperwork for us to re break and try to set her leg correctly. He also won't agree to pay for medical care. I tried to kidnap her, but my boss wouldn't let me."

Bradley gave the cat one last scratch and stood up. "What if I steal her, and you pretend like you have no idea what happened to her?"

You giggled again and pulled him closer to you. "Oh, I like that idea. I also like the idea of you having two cats. That's adorable."

Bradley was grinning in the darkness. "I like being adorable."

You just hummed and whispered, "I think we're stuck here for the night." He could feel your breath on his neck again. "There's a loveseat in the breakroom. One of us can sleep on that."

"You take it. I can sleep on the floor."

You started to lead him in the direction of the breakroom, but it was very dark in there. He could barely see anything.

"Maybe we could share it?" you asked so softly, Bradley was afraid he might have misheard.

"Okay....we can share it," he replied, and he sat down hard as you guided him over to the small sofa. His heart was beating a little faster again as he blindly tried to move the loose pillow against the armrest, and then he was reaching for you.

You were laughing softly. "How do you want to do this?"

Bradley's heart was hammering now. He wanted to kiss you again. "However you want." With a palm against his chest, you pushed him back against the pillow on the armrest, and he stretched himself out on his back across the loveseat. It was uncomfortable, and his feet were hanging way off the far end, but as soon as you eased yourself down against him, everything felt perfect.

"Is this okay?" you asked next to his ear as you kind of wedged yourself up against the back of the loveseat with your body halfway on top of his. Your chest was pressing against his, and Bradley could feel your leg come to rest between his knees.

"Yes," he managed, his voice coming out raspier. "Is this okay?" he asked, wrapping his hand around your waist.

You answered with a soft hum and let your palm rest against his chest like you had been doing all night. Oh no. He liked you. This felt too good, and Bradley probably wouldn't make it through the night with his heart intact. But he let you snuggle up against him in the pitch black room.

---------------------------

You weren't really sure if this was a good idea, but your night had taken a turn for the better when Bradley and Sunshine arrived, so you decided to just go with it.

"Are you comfy?" you asked him, and you felt the deep rumble of his voice against your cheek and hand.

"Very. Are you warm enough?"

If anything, you were too warm, pressed up against him like this. His body temperature was hot, and so was he. Bradley had managed to get you pretty giddy by this point, after sharing just a few kisses. The thing you couldn't understand was how comfortable you felt with him already. You'd just met him, and now you were both spending the night in the clinic together, but you weren't nervous or wary of him.

"I'm beginning to think Sunshine premeditated this whole thing," he told you with a soft laugh. "Because I've been looking for a while, and I've never met anyone like you."

You bit your lip and angled your face toward his. "What does that mean, Lieutenant Bradshaw?"

You could feel his hand tighten a little bit on your waist at your use of his rank. "It means I like you. A lot. And I'm desperately trying not to be creepy, because we're kind of stuck here together since the power is out and we can't find my cat, but I'm hoping you like me too."

In an instant, you let your lips connect with his again as you eased yourself a bit further up his body. As your fingers stroked along his cheek and up into his hair, you pulled your lips away from his and said, "I do."

But as soon as the words were out of your mouth, Bradley was luring your lips back to his lips. He was so big and strong, but his kisses were soft, and his hands were undemanding against your lower back. He let you take the lead, never making you feel like you were trapped on the loveseat with him.

So you let yourself indulge in the sensation of his mustache against your skin and his legs tangled with yours. When you tugged your fingers through his hair, he groaned softly into your mouth, and you smiled against his lips.

"Are you going to let me have your number?" he asked as you pulled away a few inches to catch your breath.

You pressed your lips to his cheek and said, "Probably."

"Damn, what do I have to do to get a solid yes?" he asked, and you could tell he was smiling.

"Tell me more about yourself," you whispered.

"I can do that," Bradley replied, running the tip of his nose along your cheek. So he told you all about his job, which sounded extremely exciting. He didn't tell you much about his family, other than he was pretty much alone. And he told you about his friends, who all sounded like a riot.

"Sounds like you only have one thing missing in your life," you whispered against his neck.

"A girlfriend?" he asked, brushing his lips against your forehead.

You had to bite your lip to keep from squealing. "I was going to say a cat," you told him.

"Nah, Sunshine already took care of that, wherever he is. Tell me about you."

Bradley asked all the right questions at all the right times as you told him about yourself. He didn't think it was weird that you had a deaf, three-legged dog. He seemed to like that you volunteered at the animal shelter. And he invited you to get a drink with him at some bar called the Hard Deck tomorrow night.

You yawned and snuggled against his neck, whispering, "I think I would like that." And soon you were falling asleep in his arms.

-----------------------

Your pillow never felt this warm and comfortable. And why hadn't your alarm gone off? It was so bright in here, it must be time to get up for work.

You stretched your arms just as you heard, "Good morning," whispered in a very raspy voice.

"Oh!" you gasped, your eyes suddenly open, wide awake. You were staring at Bradley as he smiled hesitantly back at you. "You're so handsome. I was beginning to think I had imagined how you looked before the power went out."

He just laughed and seemed to take that as his cue to run his fingers along your arm. "That was a fun sleepover. Don't usually get to wake up with anything cute draped across me."

"Oh, Sunshine will remedy that, I'm sure," you said teasingly, letting your lips brush against his. Bradley was instantly smiling.

Then you heard some purring from the doorway. "Speak of the devil," Bradley whispered. "Come here, Sunshine. We were looking for you."

But he just purred louder and louder. "He's probably hungry. I need to feed Ginger anyway, so I'll feed him too."

You peeled yourself off of Bradley and got another good look at him as he lounged back against the arm of the loveseat. You giggled, because he was way too big for the piece of furniture, and the scrubs you gave him were a little small.

"What?" he asked, looking kind of smug.

"Nothing. But you need to get up before my boss comes in," you said, biting your lip and turning toward Ginger's kennel. But a loud knock on the front door had you panicking. Your boss would have just let himself in. "I'm going to check to see who it is."

"Want me to come with you?" Bradley asked, instantly at your back.

But you were looking up through the front window, and you immediately recognized Ginger's owner. "No, I'll be okay," you grumbled, straightening your scrubs as you headed toward the waiting room.

You unlocked the door and let him inside, fully aware that nobody seemed to care when your office hours actually started. "We actually don't open for another hour, but if you're here to sign the paperwork for us to try to fix Ginger's leg, I can get that ready for you."

But he just scoffed. "I'm not signing it. There's no way I'm spending that kind of money for a cat. I can't believe you even think that's reasonable."

You had to bite your tongue. It was only a few hundred dollars.

"I'm just here to pick her up so I don't have to keep paying for you to board her," he added impatiently.

But your brow scrunched up. "What are you going to do with her?"

He was rolling his eyes now. "Does it matter?"

You pressed your lips together in a tight line before you said, "It matters to me, yes."

"I'll just leave her somewhere. Maybe someone else will find her or maybe not, but I already got a new kitten for my kids."

Your blood was boiling now. "You're not serious," you said, raising your voice.

"Just give me the cat, and don't charge me a kennel fee for today."

Bradley strolled out into the waiting room and asked, "Is there a problem?"

He eyed Bradley in his scrubs and said, "Your clinic has the most ridiculous prices. I just want to pick up the cat and go."

"You can't have her!" you told him.

He shook his head and turned to Bradley. "Are you going to let your employee talk to me like that? Go get the cat!"

"She can talk to you however she wants," Bradley mumbled. He must have seen the anger in your eyes, because he started to block the hallway leading back to the kennels.

You didn't care what this man thought he was going to do, he wasn't leaving here with an animal. "I'm not going to send Ginger with you if your plan is to abandon her."

"Well I'm not going to pay for any more services!"

He was only motivated by money, which might just make this easier. "Then sign her away to the clinic and leave," you told him, already rummaging in your file cabinet for the form you needed. Unfortunately this kind of thing happened from time to time.

You glanced at Bradley where he stood with his thick arms crossed over his chest, thankful he was here. You were shaking with anger as you handed the form and a pen to Ginger's owner. And as you watched him sign his name, Ginger became property of the clinic.

"And now you can get the hell out of here!" you told him, and he looked completely outraged. "You're abusive, and we will not allow you back for any of our services in the future." He was turning toward the door as you raised your voice. "And I hope your new kitten runs away and finds an owner who doesn't suck!"

He slammed the door behind him, and Bradley rushed over to you. "Are you okay? That was wild."

But all of the anger was gone now, and you just smiled up at him. "Wanna meet my new cat in the daylight?" you asked.

"Yeah, I do," he said, and you kissed his rough cheek.

You and Bradley sat on the floor in front of the open kennel door, holding hands. Inside the large cage, Sunshine was sitting next to Ginger as she ate her breakfast.

"She's pretty. I couldn't tell what she looked like last night," Bradley murmured, reaching in and stroking her behind the ears.

"I'll get her leg reset today, and I'll pay for her medical bills. Hopefully I can take her home with me in a few days."

Bradley cleared his throat. "I guess I should leave before your boss gets here?"

"Yeah." But you really didn't want him to.

He nodded toward Sunshine and Ginger. "Looks like he made a new friend. If I can't get your number for me to use, you have to give it to me so we can set up a cat playdate. For Sunshine?"

You couldn't help laughing at his antics and the cute pout on his face.

"You can have my number for you. And Sunshine can have my number to reach Ginger. And if the offer still stands, I'd love to meet you at that bar later."

Bradley's face lit up as he got his phone out and handed it to you. "Sounds great. I'll text you the address." You entered your name and number and handed it back to him.

"I'll meet you there," you promised.

"I can't wait," he replied, but you were already kissing him.

"You need to go," you whispered a second later.

He pressed his lips to yours one more time before he reached in to get Sunshine. "I know, you don't want to leave Ginger. But I secured you a playdate," he told the cat. "Oh, how much do I owe you for fixing his leg?"

"Nothing," you said as you stood with your new cat in your arms, and Bradley followed you out to your desk.

"That hardly seems fair," he replied, grabbing his khaki uniform from your chair.

You just shrugged, setting Ginger down gently on your desk. "I did it off the clock anyway. Don't worry about it. You can buy me a drink later."

Bradley grinned at you. "I'll buy all of your drinks. And when we go out to dinner tomorrow night, I'll pay for that, too. Same as the movie I'm taking you to next weekend. Oh, and all of the concerts and museums we're going to visit together? I'm paying."

You giggled. "That actually sounds kind of perfect."

"You only like me because I'm a pet owner," he whispered, kissing you softly.

You kissed him harder and ran your fingers through his hair one last time. "It certainly didn't hurt your cause. I'll meet you at the bar."

He nipped your lips one last time, and then held Sunshine up closer to his face as he headed for the door. "I owe you one. You want tuna for dinner? I'll feed you tuna every day."

You watched him walk outside and pull out of the parking lot, and then you plugged your phone in to check your messages.

You already had one from Bradley with the address for the Hard Deck. Then another one came through that said Thanks for one of the best nights of my life.

"I hope you liked Sunshine," you told Ginger. "Because I really like his dad."

-----------------------

Thanks for reading this one! Hope you liked it @morallydiseased! And thanks for your help @thedroneranger!

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

chapter (4) — we go.

GENRE: alternate universe - actors/celeb au!

WARNING/S: not safe for work (nsfw), r-18 and above, actors/singers au!, romance, fluff, minor angst, slow burn, humour, slice of life, will they won't they, light-hearted, flirting, playful, possessiveness, teasing, explicit content, possible, kissing, sexual content, innuendos, drama, feels, hurt/comfort, falling in love, love, happy ending, actor/singer! sukuna, actress/celeb! reader;

WORD COUNT: 3.6k words.

NOTE: i know i have a rule about not posting too much now since i just posted loml. but i really need to have more self—control you guys!!! i gotta work on this~ i think if you guys like it, it makes up for my constant constant posting. in any case, this was from the vault, pre-written a while back. so you know.....its stale!!! but still i hope you guys like it. much love everyone 🫶

TAGLIST: @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @v3nd3ttal3on, @r0ckst4rjk, @theshxaverse, @cheescakebroom, @kariatenoh , @ggukfikz, @sukunadckrider ;

masterlist

hey lover! series

YOU MOVED A LOT OF THINGS AROUND TO BE HERE. But you would rather be here than in a stuffy plane for the next day anyway. You sipped your beer, satisfied as your Sukuna shirt merch moved along with your little groove. The night of Sukuna’s concert finally arrived, and the atmosphere was electric.

The venue was packed with fans buzzing with excitement, each one eager to see him perform live. You had managed to snag a private box for the event, a little piece of luxury where you could enjoy the show away from the crowd while still being close enough to feel the energy radiating from the stage.

As the lights dimmed, the crowd erupted into cheers, and you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation. The sound of the guitar riff echoed through the arena, and Sukuna made his grand entrance, the spotlight illuminating him as he stood at the center of the stage, confidently gripping the mic. He looked every bit the rock star in his stylish outfit, and your heart raced at the sight of him.

From your box, you watched in awe as he effortlessly commanded the stage, his charisma pulling everyone in. As the music flowed, Sukuna began to scan the audience, and to your surprise, his gaze landed on your private box. His eyes lit up with recognition, and a huge grin spread across his face.

You couldn’t help but smile back, your cheeks flushing slightly as you waved. The moment felt electric, and as if the entire venue held its breath, fans below began to notice the interaction. Whispers spread like wildfire, followed by excited shouts and gasps.

“Did he just smile at someone in the box?!”

“OMG, it’s Y/N! He’s looking right at her!”

“ISN’T SHE SUPPOSED TO BE IN PARIS RIGHT NOW?!”

“WHAT THE FUCK, SHE DELAYED HER FLIGHT???”

“GUYS HE’S MELTING HE’S BEING CHEESY OH MY GOD!”

The energy in the crowd shifted, amplifying as they realized what was happening. Screens around the venue captured the moment, broadcasting your shared smiles across the big screens, and fans lost it. The sound of excited screams filled the air, and it felt like the entire arena was reacting to the undeniable chemistry between you two.

“Look at that! They’re totally a thing!” one fan shouted, waving a sign that read “Y/N & Sukuna Forever!”

You laughed, slightly embarrassed but thrilled at the reception. Sukuna, clearly enjoying the moment, leaned into the performance, still occasionally glancing over at you, his smirk not wavering. It was like he was feeding off the crowd’s excitement as much as they were feeding off his energy.

“Can you believe this?” you said to your friend who joined you in the box. “They’re all going wild just because he’s looking this way!”

“I mean, can you blame them? It’s a whole rom–com moment happening live!” your friend teased, nudging you playfully.

You roll your eyes, hiding how flustered you were. “Yeah, yeah, we get it.”

As the concert continued, Sukuna would steal glances your way, each time eliciting louder cheers from the audience. The more he performed, the more he incorporated little winks and smiles directed at your box, and you couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world.

During a particularly upbeat song, Sukuna jumped down to the edge of the stage, getting even closer to the crowd. He pointed at you, and the fans erupted again, screaming as if he’d just proposed on stage.

“HE POINTED AT HER!”

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD — HE’S DOWN BAD???”

“HE SO LOVES HER, THIS IS NOT NORMAL BEHAVIOR!”

“WHAT IF THEY’RE GETTING MARRIED?!”

“FRIENDS MY ASS??? JUST KISS HER SUKUNA, DAMN!”

As the chorus hit, Sukuna broke out into a playful dance, bringing more attention to your box. You felt your face heat up as you waved again, this time with a mix of shyness and excitement. The audience was eating it up, chanting your name mixed with his, a rhythm that echoed throughout the venue.

By the end of the concert, the energy was still palpable, and the crowd was buzzing with excitement. As Sukuna finished his final song, he took a moment to look around, soaking in the atmosphere. His gaze found yours one last time, and he blew you a kiss before bowing dramatically to the roaring crowd.

The fans around you lost it, squealing and cheering as if the arena had just witnessed a historical moment.

After the show, you found yourself flooded with messages and notifications. Fans were posting clips, photos, and every angle of the moment that had unfolded during the concert.

“Sukuna and Y/N are officially the cutest couple!” one tweet read.

Another captioned a photo, “When the rock star notices you, and the world stops!”

You couldn’t help but grin, realizing that this night would only deepen the playful speculation around you both. As you left the venue, you felt a wave of joy wash over you, knowing that every little moment you shared with Sukuna was turning into something special for both of you and the fans.

Backstage, Sukuna approached you, a wide grin still plastered across his face. “Did you see their reaction?” he laughed, running a hand through his hair. “I think they might have liked it a little too much.”

“Just a little.” you replied, your heart racing. “You’re unbelievable! You really know how to work a crowd, darling! Well done you!”

He shrugged nonchalantly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “What can I say? It’s all about showmanship… and having the best company.”

Sukuna’s smirk deepened as he stepped closer, his towering frame casting a shadow over you. The energy backstage still crackled with the high of the performance, and your pulse raced just being near him. His eyes, sharp and gleaming with amusement, locked onto yours as he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear.

“Speaking of the best company,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing, “I think you owe me a little celebration, don’t you?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you met his gaze with a playful glint of your own. “Is that so? What kind of celebration are we talking about?”

His grin widened, showing off his fangs. "Oh, something intimate, doll." he purred, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you against his firm chest. His fingers traced light circles along your lower back, sending sparks through your body.

Your breath hitched, but you managed to keep your voice steady. "You want a reward for being irresistible on stage? Or just for being... you?"

He chuckled, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. "Why not both? I think I deserve it, don't you?" His hand traveled to the back of your waist.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding at the intensity in his gaze. "Maybe... maybe you do. I…I do owe you dinner before I go to Paris.”

He grinned at you. “Sounds like a treat.”

➽──────────❥

YOU WERE STILL EXHAUSTED, HAVING JUST LANDED IN L.A. But you supposed that’s just how life is for you. Sukuna was probably on a plane to Asia by now, to do the Asian leg of the tour. So his phone would be off. Still, you messaged him, telling him he should get a good rest and that he should eat. Another text, wishing him good luck for his upcoming concert in two days. And another to remind him to call you when he can.

A few weeks after the concert, you found yourself on the set of a popular late night talk show, to promote your latest stage play work. Everything in you was just buzzing with excitement with the right hint of nerves. You were there to promote your latest project—a film that had just wrapped production—and the buzz from Sukuna’s concert was still fresh in everyone’s minds. Fans and media alike were eager to know more about your budding connection with the rock star.

As the cameras rolled and the host welcomed you onto the stage, the audience erupted into cheers. You waved, feeling a rush of adrenaline. The conversation started off smoothly, discussing your film, the challenges you faced during production, and the amazing cast you had worked with.

Then came the question that made your heart race. “So, Y/N, we all saw you at Sukuna’s concert a couple of weeks ago! It’s your first time attending a Sukuna special, wasn’t it? How was that experience for you?”

You smiled, reminiscing about the electrifying atmosphere. “Oh, yes. It is the first time. It was absolutely incredible! Sukuna is such a talented performer, and the energy in the venue was unmatched. I had a blast!”

“But I heard that you had a schedule before this, you had something going on in Paris?”

“I did, yeah. So it was for an ambassadorship shoot for a brand I’ve worked for a while and I had to go already and the invite, it was really last minute because I wasn’t really sure I’d make it.” You giggled as you saw the picture of you beside your friend on the screen. “My original flight was around the time the concert was happening. So, I was just like, ‘fuck it, we’ll sleep on the plane’; I called Sukuna, he already for a long time reserved a box for me.”

“That is just next level sweet, because he didn’t even know you were going to say yes and he still reserved that private box for you.” The host grinned as the people swooned over the revelation. “That must have touched you a lot.”

“It did.” You admitted, smiling from ear to ear. “Sukuna was just happy to see me there and I couldn’t be more thankful to just be welcomed and be a part of his world for a little while you know? It was amazing.”

The host nodded, clearly intrigued. “And speaking of Sukuna, I couldn’t help but notice he posted a rather adorable picture of you two after the concert. What’s the story behind that?”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you felt your cheeks heat up. You hadn’t expected to be asked about the picture so directly. “Oh, um… well, we were just having a fun moment backstage after the show….a lot of adrenaline left off from the stage!” you stammered, trying to maintain your composure.

The host leaned in, a teasing glint in their eye. “Just a fun moment, huh? Because it looked a little more than just fun to me! Fans are shipping you two harder than ever! How does it feel to have that kind of attention?”

You chuckled nervously, glancing at the screen where the picture was displayed. It showed you and Sukuna laughing together, a casual yet intimate moment that captured the chemistry between you. “I mean, it’s nice to have fans that are supportive, and I think it's fascinating how people are really interested in it all. ” you said, trying to play it cool. “But we’re really important to each other. He’s my darling and I’m his doll. We’re great together.”

The audience erupted in playful laughter and cheers. “Great together indeed. Cause both of you look like you’re ready for a rom-com!” the host chimed in, smirking.

You took a deep breath, your heart racing. But you grin. “I mean, aren’t we already doing a rom–com in Jujutsu Kaisen? Your lover sacrifices everything to be with you and becomes the King of Curses for you? A keeper!”

“Right?” the host grinned, clearly loving the playful banter. “But fans can’t help but wonder if there’s something more you’d like to show for it, especially after that concert moment. You know, the whole ‘knight in shining armor’ vibe.”

“Okay, okay, I see how it is!” you said, laughing to cover your flustered state. “I can’t deny that he has a way of making things fun. My darling’s just like that. But well, perspective’s important!”

The segment continued, but you could feel the teasing energy lingering. After the show, social media exploded with clips of your interview, and fans were buzzing with excitement over every little interaction you had with Sukuna.

Later that evening as you head to dinner, you waited out the traffic by scrolling through your SNS feed, you noticed a new post from Sukuna. It was a picture of you both from the after tge concert. You were both back stage and he held your face close, still in the zone from adrenaline of the stage. Though this time he added a cheeky caption:

“Who knew my lucky charm could steal the spotlight? Just saying, Y/N, you’d make an amazing concert partner! Thanks for coming, doll! 🎶’

You felt your face flush as you read through the comments.

“THEY’RE OFFICIALLY DATING! I CAN FEEL IT IN MY BONES!”

“Sukuna is just down right down, and I’m here for it!”

“Someone get these two a rom–com deal ASAP!”

“SUKUNA CAN YOU FIGHT??? Y/N MY BELOVED <3”

“YO HE’S SMILING SO HARD IN THAT PHOTOOOOO, HES DOWN BAD!!!”

Your heart raced at the playful nature of his post and the overwhelming response from fans. As the notifications continued to flood in, you decided to send Sukuna a quick message.

You’re such a dork. Can’t believe you posted that!

He replied almost instantly, What can I say? I like posting about you, doll! Besides, you looked amazing that night. Can’t help it. I gotta make no names jealous of me.

Feeling a mix of giddiness and slyness, you typed back, Thanks, bubs. I’m pretty sure everyone’s jealous of me too. Because they like you a lot. And I’m with you. But then again, people are just guessing.

Let them think what they want, he replied with a wink emoji. To be fair, doll, that’s all part of the fun for me. And who knows? Maybe there’s something more. Always a lot of room for you, doll.

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication, and you couldn’t help but wonder what the future held for both of you. The playful teasing, the chemistry, and the supportive friendship were all creating something special, and you found yourself excited about what was yet to come.

As the days went on, you embraced the fun of the speculation, realizing that maybe, just maybe, there was something more blossoming between you and Sukuna that you both were yet to fully explore.

➽──────────❥

YOU WERE EXCITED TO RETURN TO TOKYO. Not only because you missed seeing your extended family, but because you were going to finally reveal the months of hard work that bore the next season of Jujutsu Kaisen. You like to think that this season is the one you were most proud of. Not only because you finally got to play more than flashback scenes, but also the first meeting of Hiromi and Sukuna in a thousand years. You know that the fans would be just as excited as you.

As you walked out of your car, stunning in your bright silver embroidered kimono, you were just waving towards all the fans you could see. Everyone’s excitement was palpable, you know that much.. The red carpet was packed with fans, media, and of course, the cast.

You and Sukuna finally meet each other on the red carpet, looking stunning and greet each other with the warmest smiles and greetings. You both were surely ready to celebrate the launch of the new season. Fans lined the streets, holding signs and screaming for their favorite characters, and the energy was electric.

After the screening, the cast gathered for a Q&A session, with reporters firing off questions about the new season, character arcs, and behind-the-scenes fun. The mood was lively, and everyone was clearly enjoying themselves.

Then came the infamous game of “Fuck, Marry, Kill” and you knew it was only a matter of time before the question landed in your laps.

The red carpet host grinned as they turned to you first. “Alright, Y/N, let’s start with you! Who would you Fuck, Marry, and Kill from these cast? Sukuna, Nanami and Mahito.”

You paused for a moment, a playful glint in your eyes. “Hmm, let’s see… I’d have to marry Sukuna, Fuck… maybe Nanami, and kill—sorry but Mahito–kun! Sorry Nana–kun, Don’t have a choice!”

Laughter erupted from the audience, and you could hear the cheers from fans who were thrilled by your answer. But it didn’t stop there. The host turned to Ryomen Sukuna, a mischievous grin on their face. “Alright, Sukuna, your turn! Who do you choose? Y/N, Uraume and Naoya.”

Sukuna smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Easy. Marry Y/N, Fuck Uraume and uhhhhhh…..kill—Naoya Zenin! No apologies!”

The crowd went wild. The laughter and applause swelled as fans processed the fact that both of you had chosen to marry each other.

“Did you hear that?!” someone shouted from the audience. “They want to marry each other!”

“Wait, are they actually dating?! Are they really!?” another fan exclaimed, their voice rising in excitement.

You exchanged amused glances with Sukuna, both of you trying to keep straight faces amidst the chaos.

“We’re just interesting together!” you insisted, giggling as you waved your hands dramatically as if to emphasize your point, but the playful glint in your eyes said otherwise.

The host chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “Right, sure! Just friends who want to marry each other—totally believable!”

As the cheers and laughter continued, the excitement reached a fever pitch. Fans were snapping photos and tweeting in real-time, the clips of your answers flooding social media.

“OMG, did Sukuna and Y/N just confirm they’re in love?!” one tweet read.

“They're the ultimate power couple!” another one chimed in.

“I’m officially declaring them a couple!”

The energy was infectious, and as you and Sukuna tried to maintain your composure, you could see the delight in each other’s eyes.

As the panel wrapped up, you found yourself walking out with Sukuna, surrounded by the buzz of excitement. “Well, that was something, isn’t it?” you laughed, shaking your head. “I can’t believe we just did that!”

“Hey, they asked the right questions, doll.” he replied with a smirk. “And I meant every word!”

You felt your cheeks flush, both from the teasing atmosphere and the undeniable chemistry that hung between you. “You’re ridiculous, darling.” you said, nudging him playfully.

“Maybe, doll. But at least we’re entertained, don’t you think?” he shot back, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

You shook your head, smiling. “I suppose so.”

As the night continued, you both enjoyed the attention, the playful speculation, and the excitement surrounding the premiere. It felt like the perfect blend of friendship, chemistry, and the thrill of the unknown, and you couldn’t help but wonder just where this journey would take you both next.

Later that night, after all the excitement of the premiere had settled, you found yourself scrolling through Twitter, still buzzing from the energy of the event. Your timeline was flooded with clips from the Q&A, including the moment you and Sukuna had declared your “marriage” to each other. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the reactions pouring in.

Feeling a playful urge, you decided to quote-tweet the video. “Just a casual night at the premiere! 😂💍 #JujutsuKaisenSeason2Premiere”

Almost immediately, the notifications started flooding in, and the laughter continued as your friends from the cast began to chime in.

“@Y/NTheOne Can’t believe you both chose each other! Are we taking bets on the wedding date?” Yuji (@YUJIITAAA) teased, adding a winking emoji. “@ItsRyoSukuna, unc! You better watch out, grandma and grandpa would wanna know when the wedding is!"

“@Y/NTheOne Next time, maybe choose someone a little less deadly for your ‘marriage’ or something!” Nobara (@BARABARA²)quipped, her tone dripping with playful sarcasm. “But hey, at least you’ll have a killer wedding party!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their banter, but that wasn’t the end of it. Maki Zenin joined the conversation, tweeting, “@Y/NTheOne Just remember: If you get married, I’m the one picking the outfits. No pressure!”

“@ZZZZZMaki If you’re in charge, I’m definitely eloping!” you replied, trying to keep a straight face.

Even the official Jujutsu Kaisen account (@JJKOFFICIAL_EN) jumped in, tweeting, “#JJKFamily is all about love! Who else is rooting for our favorite couple?” The hashtag started trending, and fans went wild, eagerly discussing the playful exchanges.

As the notifications kept pouring in, you could see Sukuna (@ItsRyoSuku) had also quote-tweeted the video, simply stating. “Only label needed is #MyDoll, you know?.” The simplicity of his tweet only fueled the fire further, and you could hear the collective gasps from fans as they interpreted it in a million ways.

With each new tweet, your excitement grew, but so did the teasing from your castmates. “@Y/NTheOne I swear if you don’t invite us to the wedding, I’m crashing it!” Gojo jokes, adding a laughing emoji. “Gotta involve your work hubby!”

You rolled your eyes, a smile plastered on your face. “@GojoRuRu7 I’ll let you be the best man if you promise to keep the sunglasses on at all times.”

Your phone buzzed again, this time with a DM from Sukuna. You’re really good at riling up flames. Love it, doll.

You smiled at his message, feeling a warm flutter in your chest. It works because you’re so good, bub. But I’m glad we’re riling it up more. It’s fun.

He replied almost instantly, Fun? You call this fun? I call it now — this is the start of our next big project. Reality show, anyone?

With a laugh, you typed back, As long as I get to pick the outfits!

Just then, your friend and castmate Shoko (@SHOSHOKO)chimed in, adding more fuel to the fire. “@Y/NTheOne And you know we’ll all be tuning in for that show! Would watch the chaos unfold any day!”

The laughter and teasing continued throughout the night, with fans and castmates alike enjoying the playful banter surrounding your so-called “marriage.” It was clear that you and Sukuna had unwittingly become a part of a larger narrative, one that thrilled both your fans and castmates.

As you continued to interact with everyone online, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of excitement and joy. The playful teasing only added to the fun atmosphere, and you looked forward to what the future might hold—both for your career and your friendship with Sukuna.

The night concluded with a group chat among the cast, where the jokes and memes continued to fly. “@Y/NTheOne Ready for the wedding planning? I’m bringing the snacks!” Yuji sent, eliciting more laughter from everyone. "My mom and my grandma are ready to help out!"

“@Y/NTheOne Don’t forget to send me the dress code! I want to look fabulous!” Nobara added.

You sat back, grinning as you took it all in. This whirlwind of fun, laughter, and playful speculation was something you never wanted to end, especially with Sukuna by your side. The unexpected bond you were forming felt like the start of something beautiful, whether it was for the fans or just the two of you.

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romancefranaticstay · 7 months ago

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔:･Ship on sea ⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 2

Captain! Hyunjin x siren!fem!reader

Category: angst, fluff

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

You swam away from the ship, feeling the drops of his tears on your body. You dived to your hiding place, where you always sat. You felt something strange in your body, something strange. Something you had never felt. After a few days you still felt a strange feeling in your stomach, this time it was a little painful.

After a few weeks your belly started to get bigger and at that moment you knew it. You carried the child of your loved one, the child made by melted love. You still remembered the day you swam away from your captain. You missed him, ohh you missed him so much. You still had his necklace glistening in the moonlight.

Your child was born and accepted into the group of the Sirens. Your father always wondered who the person was, your other half. You wanted to tell him, you wanted to tell him about the most beautiful creature on earth, but you couldn't. You couldn't roll his name off your tongue. Your baby was a boy, immediately after he was born you saw Hyunjin in his eyes. It was difficult without giving birth to him, not being able to hold his hand.

Now the boy is four years old. You love your son so much, so much. It's your little Hyunjin. You sat in the cave while your sisters played with your son. He was already a good swimmer for his age. You were resting with your eyes closed, thinking about anything and everything. Suddenly you felt a kind of hyperactive happiness. Your heart was pounding, you were suddenly wide awake. You didn't know what it was. You ignored it.

“Y/N.”

said your sister Lalisa.

'What is it now?'

"Why don't you ever talk about his father?"

"Like I said, he's unknown."

"Don't you even know who he is?"

"No, only I know who he is."

'Why can't we know?'

'Just, I prefer to keep him in my heart.'

'Okay romantic, just keep him in your heart.'

You went to Lalisa, who was rocking your son. You picked him up again.

"Ohh you little treasure."

"Little Wade."

'What? Wade? That's not his name.'

"You never gave him a name."

'Yes, I have.'

"Why don't you tell me?"

“I've said it a thousand times, his name is Hyunjin.”

“Why Hyunjin? That's not even a Siren name.'

"Because I think it's a beautiful name, and because I'm his mother."

'Maternal behavior.'

'Teenage behavior.'

"Let me be a teenager."

"Yes, so let me be a mother."

"I'm going to be a mother one day too."

"You definitely will."

"And I want to marry a beautiful man."

'Just beautiful?'

"No, that's funny too."

"And grown up."

'That too.'

Hyunjin was tossing and turning in his bed. He dreamed about you again, he dreamed that you had a child. A little child who looked exactly like him. You were in a cave, with him in your arms. You were talking to someone. He was looking at you, he tried to move towards you but he couldn't. You suddenly turned your head. Suddenly he was pulled back and he woke up again. His heart broke again and again when he dreamed about your glowing skin. Your lips that he wanted to bite. Your hands that he wanted to feel.

Tears began to sting his eyes, but he was not allowed to show them. He was not allowed to show his weak side. He looked through his binoculars, no land in sight.

'Row on!'

he was strict. Stricter than before. Since you were gone he had changed, but deep down he was the same. His crewmates were a bit scared of him, except for Jeongin. Jeongin was his son. Not really his son, but he treats him like a son. He had found him on an island, dehydrated and about to die. He took care of him and now he has become a handsome man. He was 14 when he found it. Now he is 19. You could say he has changed a lot.

"We're still 10km from land, Hyunjin." Jeongin said.

"Okay good, we're almost there." he ruffled his hair.

Hyunjin was pacing on the deck, it was night. He was standing near the same ledge you jumped off. He leaned and looked into the water. If you knew how much he missed you, your heart would shrink. Jeongin joined him.

'The water is beautiful.'

"I know, sometimes too beautiful."

They both looked at the waves.

“You go get some sleep Jeonginnie.”

"Okay dad." Jeongin hopped inside to the warmth.

After a while, Hyunjin went back inside. He entered his room and looked at his bed. So many memories, the good times, the magical moments. He locked his door and lay down on his bed. The room was quite dark. He kept thinking about you, he thought about that one night. He felt blood pumping in his cock. It turned him on. His right hand wrapped around his length. He started jerking quickly. He thought about your body, your sweaty body. He started getting faster and faster. Until he groaned. Your name slipped from his lips. He panted.

Little Hyunjin was still sleeping. You admired him from a distance. A little angel, you just wanted to hug him. He is so small and so innocent. You saw him yawn and open his beady little eyes.

“Hello treasury.”

'Ello mommy.'

His small hands clung to you. Your father had collected some food for his grandson.

'Very good food, mhmmmm.'

you said, encouraging little Hyunjin to eat it all. He smacked his little mouth.

'Yummy.'

'Very yummy, and also very healthy.'

'Yeh, vey healy.'

'No no no, not healthy, but healthy. Heal-th-y.”

'Healty.'

'Close enough.' you stroked his hair.

______________________________________________________________

You swam with your son.

"Mommy."

'Yes treasury?'

'What is tha?'

he pointed his little finger towards the land. You looked at the land.

'You want to go there?'

'Yes, yes.'

It was uninhabited you saw, so it was safe for little Hyunjin. He also needed to develop his leg strength, so it was good to go ashore. Once you felt the land, your legs started working again. Hyunjinie immediately fell gently into the sand. You smiled seeing him like this. You grabbed his little hands and lifted him up so that he was now standing on his feet. You slowly started to step back so he could step along.

'You can do it.'

His steps were small and somewhat sloppy. He fell into the sand. You saw little tears growing in his eyes.

"Ohh, treasury, don't cry."

you lifted him up and started rocking him.

"Ohh little darling of mine."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'Land in sight!' Jeongin shouted.

"We're here dad."

"Okay, throw the anchor."

The anchor was thrown. Ten men remained on board, while five men began searching the island. The island was not dangerous, it was very small. Jeongin was sitting in the sand, lying on the ground.

"You stay here, I'll go explore some more."

Hyunjin started walking around the shoreline. You sat with Hyunijnie on the other side of the island. From a distance, Hyunjin saw two people. A child and a woman who seemed very familiar for a reason. He pulled out his sword just to be sure. Little Hyunjin started taking small steps towards you as you sat in the sand.

"Yes, almost, two more small steps."

He took two quick steps and fell into your arms.

"Yes, well done, you are such a smart little boy."

You were snuggling with him. Hyunjin recognized your voice. For a second he thought he was hallucinating. He dropped his sword and came closer. You felt something approaching you, you felt your heart pounding faster. You held little Hyunjin tightly. You stood up and took out your sharp teeth. You saw him, you looked into his eyes. You saw your captain standing there, your Hyunjin. You wanted to run to him, but you had a baby in your arms. Hyunjin stepped towards you until he was standing in front of you. His fingers caressed your cheek.

'Are you real?'

'I'm real.'

Tears stung both of your eyes.

"My son... I dreamed about him."

"He's real."

Hyunjinnie's eyes widened, he reached his hands out to his dad. Hyunjin picked him up, tightly in his protective arms. Tears fell into his little hair.

You hugged Hyunjin gently. Your son between you. His lips found yours. The two of you held your son. Jeongin came from a distance. He saw Hyunjin kissing a woman. Jeongin recognized you as 'the woman' he sometimes talked about. Hyunjin had described you perfectly. Your eyes opened again and you saw Jeongin standing there. You removed your lips from Hyunjin's lips.

'Who is that?' you pointed at him.

“That's my son, Jeongin.��

"You, your son... and the mother...?"

"I don't know who his mother is."

You immediately understood what was going on.

"Oww, I see."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hyunjin brought you back to the ship. The crew members stared at you, still remembering you. Hyunjin made a small bed for your son. Every day you were told how much he looked like his father. You and Jeongin also grew close. He saw you as his mother and you saw him as your son. You heard Hyunjinnie giggle. Jeongin was playing with him again.

“Careful Jeonginie.”

'Yes mom.' Y

ou were watching from a distance. On a rocking chair. Your hand on your stomach. You were pregnant again, you were three months pregnant. You couldn't really deduce what the gender was yet. It wasn't until you were 5 months old that you as Siren could sense it. Hyunjin came to you and kissed you on the cheek.

'Hello Darling.'

'Hello captain.' He placed his hand on your stomach.

'A little boy or girl.'

'Yes, strange, isn't it?'

'It is.' Your heart melted when you saw Jeongin playing with Hyunjinie. The fact that anyone could leave Jeongin behind is a mystery.

“I will never let you go again Y/N.”

"I'll never go again."

"I'll never let you go again."

You turned your face to him and kissed him softly. Jeongin covered Hyunjinnie's eyes.

“Ewww.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE END

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

@newtsbloodygf @trixiekaulitz @bbhyunjinie @wolfyychan

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heich0e · 2 years ago

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bittersweet - vash the stampede/f!reader (trigun stampede): 7k, listen there's only been 2 eps and i don't know the lore so i am loudy and emphatically declaring creative license, in my mind this is set before the start of stampede but not by much, heavy on the wild wild west core here, light angst, smut, fingering, needy vanilla sex, domesticity, mentions of alcohol/alcoholism, boot-throwing related violence. 18+ NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

The desert smells bitter.

You wouldn’t think that sand would smell like much at all, but the fragrance that hangs perpetually in the air is heavy, singed, and acrid with the heady scent of life and its misery. Waste and runoff make their unpleasantness acutely known on the hottest days, and the fumes from old machinery that’s barely functioning thanks to age and disrepair—that no one can afford to fix, so they have to hold out hope it keeps running—clogs up the already noxious atmosphere as it rattles on throughout the day.

Mama used to tell you that outside of Jeneora Rock, the world smelled different. There’s somewhere else past the walls that mark the edge of the only town you’ve ever known, even past the wastelands—a place where almost no one ever goes, but that your Mama saw once. Or at least she said she did.

She told you it smelled clean. Sweet. Untouched by anything but the sun’s heat and the five moons’ glow.

Mama’s gone, has been for a long time now, and even though she never had much to give to you in the first place, that story is the most precious thing she left behind. You think about it almost as often as you think about her.

The end of another long day is marked by a familiar heaviness to your bones. Between the suffocating heat that makes you groggy and a hard day's work, there’s a palpable weight that bears down on you as you climb the never-ending metal stairs to your front door—your feet drag a bit more with every step.

The lock to your home is getting hard to turn. You’ve noticed it a few times now: a resistance as you slip your key into the keyhole, a pressure as you urge the mechanism to turn and let you in. There may be sand built up in there to clean out, or maybe it needs some oil.

But oil costs money, of which you don’t have much, so you really hope that it’s the former rather than the latter.

You examine the keyhole once you manage to force the lock open, dropping to your knees outside your door to peek into the narrow opening on the tarnished face of the lock. It doesn’t do you much good because the sun’s already dropped dark, and even if the light of day still hung overhead you doubt it would be enough to make the issue any clearer. You drag your thumb idly along a little scratch beside the keyhole that's probably been there for years; the metal is still warm to the touch from the heat of the day that still hasn’t quite broken, the surface a little rougher where the score is chipped in.

You sigh, picking yourself up off the ground and dusting off your skirt, and turn the knob into your home.

It’s dark when you get inside, but something feels wrong.

You shut the door behind you as you enter, pressing your back flat against it as your eyes struggle to adjust to the dark. Your home, like every other one in town, isn’t really much to look at even in the plain light of day. You’re luckier than lots of people though, you’ve got a couple rooms all to yourself where some families have no choice but to cram many people into just one. Papa left you this house, cause now he’s gone too just like Mama, but not much has changed since the day he left it to you—except now there’s less empty bottles rolling around underfoot, and you get to call the little bedroom off the main room yours.

It takes a second for your eyes to get used to the dimness with the door shut tight behind you, so you blink hard to make it happen faster. You see the rickety little table against the wall near the door, and the chair on the other side of the room where you sometimes sit by the window to mend your skirts when they wear and tear—but only when you get home early enough to catch the last few moments of sun, cause Mama always used to warn you about sewing by lamplight. The shutters on the window are closed and locked now, but there’s no light outside them to let in anyway.

Something shuffles in the dark.

Papa left you a gun, too. Even taught you how to shoot it. Mama hated that. She hated how good you were at it even more. She used to say that shooting was gonna be your husband’s job someday, and that even in a world this wicked Papa was teaching you things you didn’t need to know.

But now Mama’s gone. And Papa’s gone. And the world is still wicked. And you’ve got no husband, but you have a gun you know how to shoot.

You keep it and a little stash of 7 bullets underneath your bed where you can get to it quick, but it’s on the other side of the house, and even though that’s not very far away you don’t know what’s waiting for you between the door and your bed. You don’t know if it’s faster than you are, either, so running for it would be a fool’s errand.

Inside your chest, your heart starts pumping a little harder, ‘til you can feel the wet thump, thump, thump right in the back of your mouth.

You know you need light. You need to be able to see. You can’t make any decisions until you know what’s between you and your Papa's gun tucked up safe underneath your bed.

Slowly your eyes flicker over to the lamp on your table, just within reach.

You suck a little gasp into your lungs to steel your nerve. The air is less sour in here—more familiar, a little more comforting—but the acrid scent of the desert still lingers on the edge of each breath. Slowly you reach towards the lamp and flick it on.

“PLEASE DON’T SHOOT ME!”

The frantic plea frightens you so terribly that it sends you tumbling to the hard floor, landing flat on your ass with your back thumping painfully into the wall beside your door. In front of you is a face that has no right being as familiar as it is; eyes wide in panic beneath a round pair of glasses, blonde hair tousled in disarray, two hands (one flesh and one crafted) lifted in innocence.

Your heart is beating even faster now under the tight pull of your laced waistcoat.

“Are you an idiot?” you hiss, instinctively tugging your boot off your foot and lobbing it forcefully at the unexpected intruder. “You scared the daylights outta me!”

The man sidesteps the projectile easily, and it clatters to the floor. The expression on his face morphs from one of panic to something a little more chagrined.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says, drawing out the word. His tone sheepish, and his lips pull into an apologetic little smile.

You place a trembling hand on your chest, pressing down on the spot where you feel your heart thumping the hardest and willing it to slow. You stare at your scuffed floorboards and take a few breaths to ease the frenetic beat of your pulse, and feel yourself begin to wilt as the adrenaline in your veins starts to fade.

“How’d you get in here, Vash the Stampede?” you ask, looking up again at the man in front of you from your place on the ground.

“I knocked first,” he says with a grimace, “but you weren’t home and I…”

“Broke in because you’ve got someone looking for you?” you finish his explanation for him, your tone flat and entirely unsurprised.

He sighs, shoulders slumping dejectedly as his head hangs forward.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

He lifts his chin only enough to guiltily meet your gaze.

“It’s just for one night,” he murmurs the plea, his bottom lip weighed down by a pout.

You shut your eyes tight, hands balling into fists over your skirt to hide the way they tremble.

“Fine.”

Vash falls to his knees in front of you, hands pressed to the floor as he gets right up in your face with a wide, cheerful grin. He’s almost nose to nose with you, the light of the lamp glinting in his glasses.

“Thanks so much! I promise I’ll be outta here before you know it!”

He doesn’t need to tell you that, because the pang in your empty stomach tells you that, even unspoken, you already knew it to be true.

Vash is travelling light again, just like the last time you saw him. He’s only got one bag that he begins to unpack onto the rickety table in your kitchen, leaving you to quietly go about your own business like you would if you hadn’t found him in your home that night. On the other side of the kitchen you unpack the meagre amount of food you’d managed to buy for yourself that day from little satchel you carried it home in. It’s barely enough food for one, and now you’ll have to stretch it between two.

“Where’s your father?” Vash asks as he fiddles with his gun at the table behind you. “I thought it was him coming through the door, and I thought for sure he was gonna blow my—“

“He’s dead.”

The silence that follows is heavy. Uncomfortable, even. Vash’s hands still even as yours keep quietly peeling the sad, withered skin from the vegetable in your hand with the blade of a half-dulled knife.

“I’m sorry,” his next words are quiet. “Your father was a nice man.”

“My father was a drunk who got himself shot in a bar fight with a merchant who came to town and was talking big. He just worshipped you because you saved the plant.”

That same uncomfortable silence creeps in again in the wake of your words, but after a few moments you hear Vash pick up his tools and start tinkering away at whatever he’s working on once more.

“Is the plant still running?” Vash is the first to speak again, though a fair amount of time passes before he risks another attempt at conversation.

“More or less,” you remark, setting a little pot on the stove to boil with whatever ingredients you’d been able to scrounge together into a meal. You watch the flame of the element burst to life as you flick the switch, a little hiss as the fire licks at the edges of your only copper pot. “Some days it’s more reliable than others. But whatever you did seems to be holding up all right.”

“Good!” Vash says behind you. “That’s good.”

You turn to face him, the unevenly mended hem of your skirt swishing around your ankles. You lean against the little countertop behind you, with your arms crossed behind your back.

“I’ll pop by the plant before I leave town—”

You watch as Vash’s fingers nimbly fiddle with his gun, broken down into its component parts to be cleaned and maintained. You’re sure it doesn’t need it—are certain he’s fired less shots from that gun in the two years since you’ve seen him than you’ve heard in town this week alone—but it’s kind of nice to watch him work, to appreciate how certain and precise his every move is, and to see how concentrated he is while he goes about it.

“—just to make sure everything’s still in good shape.”

He looks up at you, like for the first time he feels your gaze as it traces the lines of his profile. He smiles again, that same wide, willful expression of cheer that he always endeavours to wear even though he might be the person least entitled to it.

You hum. “I’m sure everyone would appreciate that. You should stop by to see Rosa too, she’ll box my ear if she finds out you blew though town and didn’t go see her.”

The two of you eat across the table from one another in silence. Just the scrape of cutlery and the occasional loud swallow passing between the two of you. Vash seems hungry, but appears to be trying his best to be at least a little restrained as he eats with you. Even though you’d given him the larger of the two portions, he’s still finished his plate before you’ve finished yours, but he sits patiently across from you waiting for you to swallow your final bite.

“I’ll take these,” he jumps to his feet before you have the chance to even push your chair back from the table, snatching both of your dishes up into his hands. “I’ll clean up, since you’re letting me stay.”

You don’t deny him, and instead slump back into your seat, dragging your wrist along your forehead. Your skin feels grimy from the hot day and the filth outside. Normally you would have bathed before you cooked, but you hadn’t eaten a proper meal all day—and Vash looked like it may have been even longer than that.

“I’m gonna wash,” you say, standing from your seat. You pause, your fingertips tracing against the rough, rutted surface of the tabletop. You know you don’t have enough water for two baths in your tank. You used to bathe with your mother when you were little, then once you were older and Mama was gone, you got the bathwater first and Papa would get in after you were done. It’s never been an issue until now. “Er—Vash?”

At the sink where your uninvited house guest is scrubbing at the dishes in the washbasin that you’d filled ahead of time, Vash pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. He’s taken off his familiar red coat, left hanging off the chair he’d been seated in at the table, and the black turtleneck he wears beneath it stretches taut over the musculature of his back as it faces you.

“The bath… there’s only enough water to fill it once. I don’t…Do you want…?” you aren’t sure what you’re even trying to ask him, but whatever is coming out of your mouth is even less clear than the thoughts running through your head.

“I’ll bathe second, don’t worry about me.”

Vash’s smile is gentle and obliging, his eyes crinkling at the corners as they narrow into little crescents. You nod stiffly, feeling heat flush through you at the softness in his expression, and shuffle off towards the other side of your home while avoiding his gaze.

The walls of your home are paper thin, and you’re certain that Vash can hear the splash of water in the tub as clearly as you can hear the scratchy, garbled sound of his radio from the other room. Once your skin’s been scrubbed clean of the day, you sit in the water with your knees pulled to your chest and your chin tucked between them. You strain to try to make out what’s being broadcast, but it’s difficult to hear since the reception in town is always so piss poor, and whatever coherent bits of news you manage to catch are just as abysmal as always.

It’s strange, hearing someone else in the house. It’s something you didn’t realize had become so foreign to you in the time you’ve learned to live alone. The idle puttering in the other room is a sound you didn’t realize you had missed. You lean back and dunk yourself into the water, where everything goes quiet.

The bathwater never gets very hot to begin with—tepid at the best of times, which seems unfair given the climate—but you know it’s not fair to waste time in the tub when someone else is waiting for it. You pull yourself up out of the metal basin, careful not to disturb the stopper in the bottom of the tub, and dry as much water from your skin as you can. Once you’ve deemed yourself sufficiently towelled, you pull on your nightdress and a threadbare housecoat overtop.

Vash looks up from the chair in the corner by the window when you emerge from the bathroom, and he meets your eyes so unwaveringly it feels decidedly like he’s trying hard not to let his gaze wander elsewhere. You fidget under his stare, fiddling with the fraying ends of the towel around your neck that’s catching the droplets that fall from your hair. He must realize that he’s unnerving you, because he averts his eyes to a point on the wall over your shoulder after a moment.

“My turn?” he asks, his tone chipper but polite.

“All yours,” you nod, stepping into your bedroom and leaving him to his business.

There’s an old trunk at the bottom of your bed where you keep some of the things your father left that you haven’t yet been able to sell or make use of. You find an old shirt of his near the very bottom, soft and worn-thin from years of washing. It’s something you could have easily sold or traded by now, but that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to part with—though you’re certain the day will inevitably come when sentimentality can no longer outweigh your basic needs.

You stand outside the bathroom door for a moment, your father’s shirt clutched tightly in your hands. You can hear the splash of bathwater you’re sure has gone cold from where you stand, only a few feet and a thin door between you.

You muster your nerve and tap your knuckles lightly against the door.

“I have a shirt if you need something to—“

The door opens, and you find yourself unexpectedly facing the bare chest of your one-night housemate, still damp and glistening from the bath, lined with silvery scars that the low light catches on.

You toss the shirt at him unceremoniously and turn quickly away, and Vash himself makes a little sound of surprise.

“Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be—“

“It’s fine,” you answer before he can even finish his apology, still refusing to meet his gaze. You gesture vaguely over your shoulder without turning. “Just take that.”

The bathroom door clicks closed again, and you clutch the belt of your housecoat over your diaphragm.

You need a drink.

You cross your home to the cabinet in your kitchen, reaching to the back of the nearly-bare shelf and pulling out a dusty old bottle that’s been there since your father died. It wouldn’t have lasted a day if he were still living, and you’ve made it years without ever so much as cracking it open.

Today however, you feel it’s well-deserved.

The dust caked on the bottle smears against your palm as you open it, and you wipe the grime furiously against the material of your housecoat as you pour a long glug of the amber liquor into a waiting glass. It’s vile, lukewarm from the constant heat of your home, and burns every inch of the way down—but as you set the empty glass back onto the counter, you still find yourself grateful for it.

You pour another drink.

“Take it easy,” you hear a voice say behind you, accompanied by a breathy little laugh.

You turn and see Vash hovering not far from you, his black turtleneck folded over one arm and your father’s shirt over his no-longer-bare chest. His hair is wet, a towel draped around his shoulders just like yours, and he’s taken off his usual eyewear. The mole underneath his eye seems more prominent now that he’s scrubbed himself clean.

Your empty glass dangles from the tips of your fingers, the acerbic taste of the liquor lingering on your tongue. You hold it out to him in offering, and he scrunches up his nose a little bit.

“I really shouldn’t—“

“It’s rude to turn down a drink your host is offering you, y’know.”

Things like rudeness don’t mean anything to anyone these days, least of all yourself. Decency is a luxury few people can afford.

Vash sighs, still smiling, and takes the glass from you. Your fingers brush as it passes from your hand to his, and then you take the bottle and pour another healthy splash into the waiting cup. He brings it to his lips, wincing against the fumes alone that waft up from the glass.

“It’s better if you don’t sip it,” you offer him, though even then you know the guidance doesn’t help much.

He tips it back and drains it.

Two drinks were enough to have you feeling woozy, but you pour yourself a third for good measure. You spare Vash the pain of another, much to his apparent relief, and let him off with just the one before tucking the half-drained bottle back into the cupboard you’d dug it out of.

When you turn around again, Vash is crouched down, examining something on the ground.

Your boot. The one you’d thrown at him earlier.

He peers up at you from the floor, he lifts the shoe slightly.

“It broke again.”

A memory floods back to you then, unbidden.

Sitting side by side with Vash on the edge of the steps outside the same house you live in now, but when the way you lived was different. The plant had just been repaired, and there was a palpable feeling of effervescent joy sizzling through the town around you. An uncharacteristic camaraderie amongst the people of Jeneora Rock as the celebration of Vash’s handiwork spreading through the narrow, grimy streets. The two of you were away from it all, sitting quietly together in a strange sort of celebration of your own.

You were less a woman than you were a girl back then, but still somehow neither. He’d patched the sole of your boot back on when it had ripped loose. And you’d laughed when he handed it back to you with an endearingly clumsy flourish, the sound as high and bright as the sun that hung in the sky overhead. You still remember the way your laughter had made his smile grow.

The patch job had lasted a year. You’d sobbed the day it came loose again, just shortly after the death of your father. You’d been using twine tied tightly around the toe of the boot to hold it together ever since.

Vash blinks up at you from the ground as you stare down at him with what you’re sure is a vacant look in your eyes.

“I brought you something,” he says, hopping up and skittering over to his rucksack with your boot still in his hand. He rifles around in the bag for a moment, his mechanical arm shoulder deep as he roots for what he’s looking for. His eyebrows shoot up and he grins when he locates it—a wide, brilliant smile splitting across his face as he pulls his arm out.

He holds his find up in triumph.

You look at it with narrowed eyes.

“What… is it?” you ask, after a moment of trying to identify the small, relatively unremarkable little container in his hand.

“Boot glue!” he says excitedly, waving it in front of your face. “I thought of you when I saw it! The merchant wanted an arm and a leg for it but I managed to—”

Tears have sprung up in your eyes against your will, and you quickly turn away from him to hide them from his sight.

“Hey, are you okay?” Vash’s voice is softer now, less enthusiastic and more concerned.

That softness is what upsets you more than anything. Tenderness is a foreign thing in the desolation of the wastelands.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, scrubbing your hand over your stinging eyes.

For thinking of me.

For knowing that you’d come back.

You leave that part off, but you feel it just as much as what you say.

You drain that third glass that’s been sitting on the counter waiting for you, hoping the burn of the liquor as it sloshes down your throat to your stomach will give you something else to focus on. Or, if nothing else, that it might numb the sudden pain that’s laid roots down in your core.

Vash sits at the table as he patches up your boot under the lamplight, much like he had the first time. You watch him from the chair in the corner, under the shuttered window, with your knees drawn up into your seat with you. You’re more shameless now than you had been while he cleaned his gun, observing him keenly as he scrubs your boot with a rag and leftover water from the dish pan. He makes sure no more grime clings to it before he carefully smears a thick layer of the glue along the sole, pressing down firmly to make sure the adhesion takes. He holds the boot up in front of him when he’s done, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth, eyeing it from every angle to survey his own work.

You watch him just as raptly.

He turns in his seat once he’s satisfied, holding the boot up.

“All done!” he says, hopping up to his feet and shuffling towards you. He crouches down in front of you and holds out his hand expectantly. Slowly, you stick your foot out, and he cradles it gently in his roughened palm.

Carefully he slips the boot onto your foot, tightening the laces once it’s fully in place.

“How’s it feel?” he asks you, peeking up at you from his place on the floor.

“Feels good,” you reply, with an equally breathy tone.

The lamplight doesn’t reach this corner of the room quite as brightly as it does at the table, but you can still make out a blush that sits high and pretty at the top of Vash’s cheeks. You wonder if he’s starting to feel the flush thanks to the liquor, or if maybe it’s something else entirely.

“G-good!” he stammers a little, fiddling with the laces at your ankle. “I’m glad!”

“That glue must have been expensive,” you say. “Thank you, Vash.”

He shoots you a smile as he loops his fingers through the laces. “It's the least I could do, especially with you putting me up for the night.”

For the night.

Just for the night.

The reminder makes you ache a little.

Vash helps you slip your boot off again, carrying it over to the door and setting it down beside its mate.

“I’ll leave this here for you, in case you need it again,” he says, screwing the top back onto the little pot of adhesive at the table. “There’s not much left, but there’s some.”

You nod from your seat in the corner, one leg up and one leg still down—your nightdress drawn up to your knee from when he’d helped you into your boot.

Vash ruffles the hair at the nape of his neck, dry now after his bath. Yours remains a little damp, but you’re sure it won’t last long as the residual heat from the day still hangs in the air even though the sun has long set.

“It’s late,” he finally says after a moment. “You should sleep.”

You hum in agreement, moving to stand from your chair. The room spins slightly around you, those three glasses you’d knocked back sneaking up on you while you’d been sitting down. Your foot hooks in the hem of your nightdress because of the way you’d been sitting, but before you can stumble theres a strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. A warmth pressing into you as your face meets a heaving chest.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Vash murmurs, his grip on you tightening for the briefest moment.

Your hands clutch at his shirt, and you don’t meet his eyes as you nod, letting him lead you towards your bedroom.

Your hands fumble at the belt of your nightdress, pulling it off and tossing the garment across the end of your bed as Vash helps you onto the mattress. You tuck your feet under the thin sheet before leaning back against your pillows, and Vash is quick to turn and head towards the door after helping you pull it up to your waist.

“Wait,” you call to him before he can retreat. He pauses in the doorway, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Where are you going to sleep?”

You hadn’t thought much about this, and you ought to have considered it earlier. You only have the one bed, but you have two pillows you can share and a spare blanket in the trunk at the end of it that you could offer him if he wants to sleep on the floor.

But you don’t want to tell him that.

“I’ll just take the chair,” he says with a blithe smile, jutting his thumb towards the armchair in the other room.

It won’t be comfortable. You know that from experience, having fallen asleep there a few times yourself after a particularly gruelling day. The stuffing is lumpy and the springs are painful if you press against them the wrong way. You know he won’t complain about it. You even know that it’s probably still more comfortable than lots of other places he’s rested his head over the past two years.

But you want to be selfish.

For once you don’t want to be alone.

“Vash,” you say quietly, and you watch his entire body go rigid at the sudden bare vulnerability of your tone. “Please stay with me.”

You’d asked him the same thing once before, but different. The words once murmured desperately against his lips as you clung to his red jacket. Staring at him with eyes full of hope and a freshly patched boot on your foot.

He’d looked at you the same way back then too. That smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. As gentle of a no that he could ever offer you.

“I know you have to leave,” you murmur, eyes downcast to your hands as they rest atop your lap. “I don’t expect anything like that from you. I know it’s just for tonight.”

“Please don’t cry.”

The bed dips beside you, and Vash tilts your face up towards him. He looks troubled when you meet his gaze, even in the dim light of your bedroom you can make out the conflict on his features. It’s strange to see him not smiling, wrong almost.

But your eyes are dry.

“Stay,” you repeat yourself, meeting his gaze resolutely. You swallow hard over the lump in your throat, bracing yourself for the impending sear of rejection.

Vash cups your cheeks in his hands, and you can’t tell if it’s your cheeks or his touch that feels so warm.

“You deserve someone that can say yes to that and mean it properly,” he says ruefully, not dissimilarly to what he’d said the first time you’d asked the very same thing of him.

“I’m not asking anyone else,” you whisper, “I’m asking you."

You wonder if your mouth still tastes like liquor as Vash’s tongue dips inside of it, hovering over you as you lay sprawled across your bed.

It didn’t start like this, of course. The first kiss had been gentle, hesitant even—like Vash wasn’t quite sure if he was going to see it through at all, poised to flee at any moment. But neither of you could deny how right it felt when his lips brushed yours, an immediate wash of relief and of unadulterated want inundating you all at once. You’d been the one to crane up and bridge the gap, but soon Vash was crawling into your bed overtop of you, easing you back to lay flat as he succumbed to the same need you felt thrumming through your veins.

Your hands are tangled in his hair now—a gesture that earned you a pitchy, needy little groan from him as your fingers twisted through the blonde strands. It only seemed to make him more eager as he parted his lips against your own in a deeper kiss.

There’s something a little clumsy about it all, an eagerness and inexperience to every touch and graze. But it’s not the same as it was at first, no longer hesitant or wary—his reservations have been peeled away as surely as the clothes the two of you are wearing, until you feel nothing but his skin against your own.

Vash’s hands are as greedy and rapacious as his mouth; touching, grabbing, grazing anything he can reach. His calloused fingers cup themselves around the swell of your chest, squeezing lightly, and when you reward him with a little moan it stokes the flames of his curiosity, and his touch moves to the pebbled bud of your nipple next. He rolls it tentatively between his fingers, pinching ever so slightly, and when you gasp against his mouth, arching further into his touch, he makes his own little pleased sound of surprise before lavishing your other breast with equal attention.

His metal hand touches you more gingerly than the other, and he tends to favour the one made of flesh and bone. The contrast in sensations is a little disorienting—smooth, hard metal versus the life-roughened heat of skin on skin. It’s dizzying. You want more.

“Vash,” you murmur against his mouth.

Your lips are stinging now from the constant kissing. He’s scarcely left your mouth uncovered by his own since they first connected, but at your hoarse whisper of his name he pulls back slightly, watching your face for any sign of reproach.

“Touch me more, please,” you say to him, cupping his cheeks as he presses his forehead into yours, both of you sharing the same breath in the little space between you.

He makes a sound halfway between a grunt and a hum, nodding a little, and kisses you again as his hands slip further down your willing, waiting form.

If he’s surprised by the wet wet heat he finds between your legs, it doesn’t stop him. One finger and then two find their way inside you slowly; he moves in gentle thrusts and scissoring motions that have your jaw going slack. His palm presses against the swell of your clit, and each time your hips jump it grinds into the heel of his palm, earning a keen from the back of your throat.

“Feels good?” Vash trails kisses up the top of your cheek until his lips are by your ear. His breathing is laboured and the air of each breath is hot as it ghosts across your skin. Your tongue feels leaden, but you nod repeatedly, wrapping your arms around his neck and keeping him close.

“Yeah,” you finally manage to breathe out, “’s good.”

It’s even better when you feel the stretch of him pressing himself inside.

The sound that’s pulled from the depth of Vash’s broad chest as he carves his way into you makes your toes curl—high and sweet and desperate.

“’S hot,” he slurs, his hips giving a shallow, desperate thrust.

He’s needy, pulling you closer as he moves you how he wants you. He loops your knees up over his elbows, his mouth frantically finding it’s way back to yours as the weight of his entire body bears down on you.

The next thrust is harder, deeper. And the pace only increases after that.

The rickety headboard of your old bed knocks against the wall each time he brings his hips down against yours. It’s loud, but so is the sound of skin on skin, and you have the distant thought as the bed frame creaks that it sounds like it might splinter underneath you—but you don’t find it in yourself to care as the pressure in you core steadily builds, threatening to burst. It blinds and deafens you to anything but the pulse that pounds in your throat. It makes your fingers curl against the skin of Vash’s shoulder blades until your nails dig into skin.

He’s still kissing you, wet and messy and noisy as his tongue presses into your mouth. He never stops kissing you.

It's nice to be with someone. To be touched. To feel wanted and needed.

Especially by him.

Your eyes flutter open, and as though he can sense your gaze on him Vash’s do the same. His expression is heavy-lidded as he pants, a little drop of sweat sitting high on the edge of his blushing cheek. He smiles a little, a soft, gentle expression you’ve never seen before.

A tenderness in his gaze unlike any you’ve ever experienced.

The pressure in your core comes undone.

He takes your face in his hands as pleasure rips through you like a sandstorm, blistering and unescapable. He’s still kissing you. Keeping you so near. In the haze it’s hard to tell where you end and he begins, everything clouded into something thats both and somehow neither. Something new.

“Close,” Vash whines, grinding his hips down against your own.

Your muscles ache, the pleasure has worn you raw, and your lungs are pricking with the need for a full deep breath you haven’t been able to draw into them now for some time. But even so, you don’t want it to be over. Can’t bear the thought of being apart.

The headboard rattles a few more times, and then the pressure between your legs is gone as Vash pulls out and spatters his spend across your stomach with a long, low groan.

It’s hot. The mess on your skin, the sweat that clings to you, the paltry breaths of air you draw into your lungs. Even the sheets of your bed have absorbed the heat from both of your bodies, sticking to your skin as you collapse into them in boneless heaps, chests heaving and hearts racing side by side.

You tilt your face towards the boy crowded into your narrow bed beside you, and find him watching you expectantly.

“You okay?” he asks, brushing a piece of hair away from your eyes.

You hum, leaning into his touch.

Vash’s gaze travels down your body, eyeing the mess he’s made of you with wide eyes. He pops up suddenly, clambering out of bed and tripping clumsily over the sheet that’s fallen half-way off the mattress as he skitters out the door. You’re not too worried that he’s going far, considering he’s still stark naked, but you watch the doorway curiously as you wait for him to return.

When he does, he has a cloth in hand—still damp from your bath earlier in the evening. As gently as he can, Vash cleans you up; the cloth cool is against your sticky skin, and feels nice. Once he’s satisfied with his handiwork, he presses a kiss to the valley between your ribs, lifting his face to smile up at you.

You shoot him a feeble smile back.

He slips into bed beside you once more, crawling up towards the pillows and pulling the rumpled sheet up to your chins as he goes. He settles in, and with one sweep of his arm he tucks you safely against his chest, with your ear resting over his heart. His hand pats gently along the back of your hair down your spine, keeping you close to him.

Vash smells good. Clean and comforting. It makes you think of the place your mother told you about once. You wonder if he smells like that place, or maybe even better.

You wonder if he’s ever been there before.

You wonder if he’d tell you if you asked.

You open your eyes, though the effort pains you in your exhaustion, and you see him peering back at you. Vash’s lips pull into a smile, but it's one of the ones that doesn’t quite meet his eyes. An expression that you know is more for you than it is for himself.

You think the two of you have a lot in common, then. That maybe the two of you understand the same loneliness. The same feeling of being haunted.

Your ghosts live on in the trunk at the end of your bed and at the back of your cupboard, covered in dust, tucked away out of sight.

Vash’s live on inside of him, and it’s where he seems determined to keep them.

In that moment you know that even if you were to ask, he’d tell you nothing—and he’d do it for your own sake.

Tomorrow you’ll wake and the air will smell bitter and burnt, and he’ll be gone, but your boot will be mended, and the little pot of glue will remind you he was there. But tonight you’ll dream about the place your Mama told you about, and tomorrow you’ll still have the smell that clings to your sheets. So for now, the world smells different.

And that has to be enough.

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede x you #vash x reader #vash x you #vash the stampede #trigun stampede fic #trigun stampede writing #writing

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reds-writings · 6 months ago

Text

souls further entwined

(pairing: rust cohle x fem!reader)

a/n: finally an update for these two! sorry to keep you waiting! I've got a lot of life changes in the works so updates might come a little slower over the next few months depending but i hope this tides y'all over for a bit! this takes place sometime after if only tonight we could sleep

word count: roughly 2.5k

warnings: (PLEASE LOOK BEFORE CONTINUING) discussions of abortion, child loss, forced/unsafe medical procedures, bad family situations, angst angst, cursing, semi-not-so-smut at the end, minors avert your gaze or else!!

The hidden gem of a restaurant that Rust had brought you to somewhere in the French Quarter was rather nice with its live jazz band playing in the corner and lavish decor. The tinkering of silverware layered on top of the low rumblings of fellow diners did what it could to fill the void of silence that had long settled between you and the man sitting adjacent. He had spontaneously asked you– well more like told you to go out with him tonight. Something about wanting to do things right once and for all after all this tiptoeing around. The whole notion had taken you off guard, admittedly.

You’d been buzzing so bright leading up to tonight that you could've probably put a lightning bug to shame. He’d asked you on a real date. A step forward from the semi-clandestine meetings you’d both been settling on for far too long now. It was unlike him to outwardly admit to much but you doubted it was a wide occurrence that he’d take a girl on a date just because he was bored. This had meaning.

With that thought swirling in mind, you’d found your best dress and took what constituted as way too long of a pampering shower to best prepare for a promising night out with the man you'd become so deeply enamored with. It wasn’t often you got to get all prettied up for some fun given that work always managed to swallow you whole.

God you’d been so excited.

From the time you’d gotten into Rust’s Ford up until you’d sat down to eat he had yet to utter a single word to you. Hell, he’d hardly even managed to look at you either and it was starting to cause a distasteful rock that went by the name of dread to sink lower and lower in your gut.

Dexterous fingers stayed picking at the table cloth as a form of lengthy distraction and you fought the bubbling urge to snatch his hand and demand what gives. It wasn’t hard to miss the anxiety bleeding from his form with those tense shoulders and that telltale faraway look in his eyes. You didn’t want to continue the cycle of jumping to conclusions when it came to the routine lack of forthcoming involving his more vulnerable thoughts out of insecurity so you bit the bullet,

“Y’know…usually on a date there’s a bit more talkin;. Maybe startin’ with questions like ‘what’s your favorite color’-- it’s blue by the way, or ‘where’d you get that lovely dress’. Could also do with lookin’ a little less green in the gills.”

That got him to stop fidgeting but a response was not yet prompted. You sighed and looked down at the vibrant cloth napkin in your lap,

“If you’re startin’ to regret this we can just forget about it and head back-”

“I don’t know if I can be what you need.” He all but blurted and it had your head shooting back up in suprise.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t…I don’t find myself being suited for marriage like before. I can’t give you kids because I don’t think it’s right-”

“Wait a minute just-...slow your roll for a second.” Your mind was going a mile a minute at his frank outburst and you were having trouble pinpointing just where it all came from.

“First of all, I don’t necessarily need the promise of marriage to feel fulfilled. I’m about to hit 30 soon enough and I’ve supplied plenty for myself that I'm not sure some flimsy marriage papers can add on to. I’m not just sayin’ all this to make you feel better either so don’t go down that route.” You were tenderly stern in your delivery to make sure what you were saying was actually sticking without sounding offended.

All he could give was a slight nod as the tip of his thumb came to his mouth: a nervous tic.

“Secondly…” You cleared your throat slightly and gave yourself a moment of pause. The latter concern wasn’t that of an easy subject. For either of you. Besides your family and probably Marty, not many knew of your reality when it came to the idea of starting a family.

“I can’t have children. So that wouldn’t even be on the table to begin with I suppose.”

That seemed to stun Rust. His expression working out how, what, and when this came to be. You cleared your throat again. Talking about it was never easy no matter how much time passed.

“The gist of it is…well I got knocked up when I was sixteen. Total accident, shocker. And um…my pa didn't approve. Not one bit, bein’ the respectable county figure he was as a seasoned lawyer n' all.”

Your sinuses began to sting but you willed away any threat of tears as you tried to explain. Rust didn't say a word, his expression hardening minutely with a knowing sense of where this was headed.

“I didn’t wanna listen. I was scared of course but the boy I was foolin’ around with at the time was nice and had a family who wanted to be involved so that was enough for me. My uppity family could shove it for all I cared,” You scoffed wryly but continued, “But pa was adamant. He couldn’t have some little whore of daughter muckin’ things up but we were a church family so abortion was obviously out of the question. At least one would think that was the case,”

“Long story short he dragged me to some back alley clinic where things would be kept under wraps. They fuckin’ botched it of course and made me sterile. Didn’t really know how bad it was until another loss and a visit with the doctor after trying with a serious boyfriend some time ago…” You shrugged as you fiddled with your unused silverware. You hadn’t spoken with your family since then. Letting you be mutilated for the sake of preserving a frivolous public image was a hard thing to let go of.

You remember how sick you were afterward. Infection from the procedure and a decent amount of blood loss, go figure. You only recall the house's maids nursing you back.

Your pa had never been able to look you in the eye again. Your mama just pretended nothing had ever happened the way it did.

Sometimes your mind had the habit of taking a dark turn every now and then, wondering if they would’ve felt any remorse if their forced course of action ended up actually killing you. With a selfishness like they had you couldn't help but doubt it.

They had always taken more pride in your sister anyway.

“So yeah…you don’t have to worry about the possibility of kids when it comes to me. It’s not like with our line of work it’d be much of a good idea anyway. Marty’s a prime example I'd reckon.” Your laugh was brittle in a weak attempt to lift the heavy weight you felt like you’d set over the mood.

Rust’s large hand reached over to encase your shaking one to garner your attention. Looking up you weren’t met with pity or disgust, but with recognition. One shared in the experience of grief. Of having something meant to be so precious ripped from you in the cruelest of ways. He didn’t feel sorry for you. He understood you. More than anyone else had or could.

“You’re enough for me, Rust. I don’t know if you’ve noticed by now but there’s not much you can do to send me runnin’ for the hills. I like you as you are and I don’t need more. I wouldn’t expect you to change your mind over somethin’ like that anyway. It just wouldn’t be fair to ask.” His eyes glazed over at your words and he had to let go of the troubled breath he’d been holding. He brought your hand to his lips and kept them there as an unspoken thank you.

After a moment or two he set your hand back on the tabletop, still grasped in his.

“How about we find some shitty dive and let loose over there. This place is startin’ to feel a lil’ too stuffy for me.” Your light-hearted jab made the corner of his lips quirk up before he nodded,

“Yes, ma'am.”

—

After a relaxing drive accompanied by the tunes of Willie Nelson in search of a dive bar that was sufficient enough, the ice from all the worries of earlier had melted as fast as they had formed. The establishment you ended up coming across was a more than welcome change of pace compared to that of the restaurant (as lovely as it was). It wasn’t big by any means but there was room to dance and plenty of open spots to sit around and drink.

You looped your arm through his and leaned into his side as you made your way to settle down. There wasn’t enough time or clarity earlier to truly appreciate just how good he looked for the occasion but now you had all the time in the world to shamelessly ogle.

He’d donned a black dress shirt, forgoing a tie and leaving a few buttons undone in a way that had you feeling dizzy, as well as a nice fitting pair of jeans that had plenty of passersby’s eyes glued to his shapely form.

“The ladies of Louisiana might just beat me up for a chance with you. If your face ain’t motivation enough your ass surely will be.” You nudged him and he shook his head mirthfully.

“One would say jealousy is unbecoming.”

“Who said anythin’ about jealousy? I’ve earned my stake in claimin’ you as eye candy fair and square. They can try all they want but they were just too slow to the draw.”

“With your pension for being scrappy, I’d say they wouldn’t have much of a chance to begin with.”

“Gee, is that the only reason they don’t stand a chance?” You quirked a brow. You knew the answer but pestering him to fess up hardly ever got you far.

“What d’ya wanna drink, Miss Envy.” He drawled, not one to fall into your traps so easily and you flicked him with narrowed eyes.

“Last time I checked my name don’t even come close to rhymin’ with envy so you can quit with that.”

The shithead just smirked.

“I’ll take a jack and coke. Now run along.” You waved him away and he just shook his head. In his short absence you’d found a high top and decided to claim as your territory for the night. The music was clearer over this way and your heart jumped at the beginning notes of Fleetwood Mac’s Beautiful Child.

Upon his return, Rust had hardly been able to set the drinks down before you were grabbing at him to park yourselves out on the dancefloor. A few other couples were swaying in place so you figured it wouldn’t be all that awkward to steal a moment for yourselves.

It was strange, being able to be so open in your affections without the curious eyes of Marty or anyone else from the precinct to make judgments. You could just be yourselves. It was a breath of fresh air after all this time.

As the song gained momentum, you wrapped your arms around his neck, toying with the hairs at his nape while his strong ones made home around your waist to pull you in closer. A small spark of pride lit up your chest at him being able to be this comfortable with you.

As you rested your head along the expanse of his chest you felt the feather-light stamp of his kiss at your crown. The tenderness of the simple act almost had you turning into one hell of a mush puddle. You settled on burrowing deeper if that were any more possible as Stevie sang on. Fighting the effect he had on you was always going to be a losing battle.

You wouldn’t trade this moment for a damned thing.

—

It was nearing almost three in the morning by the time you arrived back home. Your mind had been pleasantly warmed by the drinks and all the dancing. Rust even seemed to have a newfound glow to him and it was triggering something innately carnal in you.

Taking an opportunity from the pocket of silence, you scooted along the Ford’s bench seat to make a place for yourself along his lap.

The relaxed daze displayed across his features was something you’d never had the pleasure of seeing before. It was nothing like the faraway trance he’d trap himself in with all the pills and whatnot in fruitless efforts of chasing undisturbed sleep. No, this was true content.

“I had a good time.” You didn’t mean to sound so coy but it couldn’t be helped as your hands crept up to frame his fine face.

“That’s good. I’m glad.” He hummed as he took in every feature your beautiful face had to offer. It was like striking gold. Especially in this expansive wasteland of a state.

“When we get a chance we should do it again. S’nice to go out…feel normal…” Hair lying in his line of light distracted you as you moved it out of the way with a gentle sweep. The truck’s cab could probably burst with the steadily increasing tension so you did what any normal woman would do with such a man in front of them and kissed him with all you had.

It started out syrupy and languid as if you had all the time in the world to be out macking in the car like a pair of careless teenagers. Your skin hummed like a live wire at his sudden grasp on the plush fat of your hips which served as the green light to go further.

Your delicate fingers carded through his soft waves as the muscle of his tongue took dominance over the kiss. A meek whimper cracked within your throat as you tried to keep up with what little oxygen you had remaining. When Rust kissed, it was all-consuming. It was no act he took passively when it came to you which had been made crystal clear to you by now. With each pass of his wet-hot caress, you could feel everything he wanted to say to you without complication of expression through words.

His mouth traveled across the apple of your cheek down the expanse of your neck, nipping and sucking with such lax reverence it had you arching as if you could fuse your ribs with his. Souls to be permanently intertwined.

With a starting grind of your hips that your body had no willpower to control you could feel him hardening with each intensifying roll. His choked moan had you remembering where you were and you’d be damned if your first actual night with him was in this old, damned truck right outside your house.

“D’ya wanna take this inside?” You offered in a breathless huff, trying to catch your breath in vain. You’re sure that even in the dark of the truck’s cabin the heat of your face could set the whole space aglow. He nipped at your bottom lip and soothed it with another peck,

“I would.”

The sudden tangle of limbs clambering to make haste towards the beacon of your front door would’ve been downright hysterical had you any hubris.

a/n: sorry to blue ball you lmao. I HOPE THIS WASN'T CRINGE AHHHHH. i'll probably come back and edit this later. feedback is always appreciated!

#reds-writings #rust cohle #true detective #true detective season 1 #rust cohle x reader #writer blog #rust cohle imagine #true detective imagine #matthew mcconaughey #jj universe

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justsomerandomfanfic · 9 months ago

Text

Siriusly Falling For You - Sirius Black X Female Reader

Title: Siriusly Falling For You

Sirius Black X Female Reader

Additional Characters: James, Lily, Remus, Peter, Prof. McGonagall (Mentioned), and Prof. Sprout (Mentioned)

WC: 2,863

Warnings: Friends to lovers, teasing, flirting, banter, nicknames, falling from a tree, no injuries happen but are mentioned briefly, italics, empty threats, pranks mentioned, James is a little goblin, confessions, a pun, mini angst, and fluff

"You want me to do what?" Sirius asked, watching as you bounced slightly in place, rocking on the balls of your feet.

"I want you to climb a tree with me." You said it matter of factly, not fazed at all by your best friend's reaction. "Come on, it'll be fun!" You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards you.

"I don't know..." Sirius muttered, glancing at the tree behind you, near the Black Lake, "I've never climbed a tree before."

With a mischievous glint in your eyes, you leaned in closer, your breath warm against Sirius's skin. "Come on, Sirius, it's easy, I'll help." You murmured, your voice a playful whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "Just one little climb up the tree with me. Who knows what we might discover up there?" Your free hand came up to fiddle with the collar of his gray sweater, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Sirius tried to calm his heart, his pursed lips forming a mimicking smirk, his eyes narrowingly with the same playfulness. "Are you daring me, love?" He asked quietly, though you could hear the amused lilt of his words.

The air around you felt electric, your fingers itching to brush against his arm or caress his cheek. His scent enveloped you, intoxicating, sending goosebumps dancing across your flesh. You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings and how close you were to each other. You swallowed hard, looking up at him. "Maybe I am," You replied in an equally quiet voice before your mischievous expression suddenly changed into a large grin. "Race ya, Padfoot!" And off you went. And Sirius took off after you, the wind whipping through his long, black hair.

Your relationship with Sirius was a little bit complicated. The bond between you and Sirius was a unique blend of friendship and unspoken affection. You were best friends, partners in most shared classes, and always there for each other. The teasing and playful banter were second nature to both of you, a way to mask the deeper feelings that lay beneath the surface.

Neither of you had dared to voice the truth - though Sirius loved to joke about how hopelessly in love you were with him - that your hearts beat a little faster in each other's presence, and your smiles held a hint of something more than friendship. The two of you had a lot of secrets. Secrets you kept hidden because neither of you wanted to lose what you already had.

Sirius stopped a foot or so away from the base of the tree, watching as you reached up and grabbed a low-hanging branch of the tree. Pressing your foot against the trunk, you pushed yourself up, using your arms to push yourself further until you were perched securely on a higher, sturdier branch.

With a satisfied smile, you looked down at him. "See? Easy." You spoke, your legs dangling.

"Impressive." He simply stated as you reached your hand out, only for him to wave your hand off in dismissal. "No, no, my love, I can do this myself." You only rolled your eyes as Sirius followed your actions and pulled himself up the tree too. With a few pulls and a small grunt, Sirius then found himself with his chest leaning against the branch you were on; unable to really push himself any further. Looking over at you, you only smiled, hands in your lap, legs dangling; swinging back and forth. "A little help would be nice."

"Oh," You pressed a hand to your chest, blinking owlishly, "I thought you were a big boy and could do it yourself." You teased, giggling slightly. "It seems I must have been mistaken." You gave him your hand.

"Oh, har har." It was Sirius's turn to roll his eyes, taking your hand as you helped him up onto the branch properly. Bracing himself on the thick trunk of the tree, Sirius huffed out a breath, glancing down at the ground below him; he must have been around ten feet in the air. Looking over at you, he took note that you were already looking at him, an eyebrow raised. Clearing his throat, he gave you his usual grin. "But you were mistaken, my dear" He spoke, mimicking you and swinging his legs in the air a bit, "I'm not a big boy, I'm a big man." Sirius emphasized the last part and grinned wider.

"Right, right," You nodded slowly, a small smile playing on your lips.

After a quick moment of silence, Sirius spoke, or he tried to speak again, but was interrupted, "So, why did you force me to climb this-"

"Hey! Padfoot! Y/N!" You heard a voice call out to the both of you. Looking behind you slightly, you watched as James, Lily, Remus, and Peter walked from over near the greenhouses. "What are you doing up there, mate?" James asked, walking up to the two of you.

Gently slapping your hands on the thighs of your legs, you leaned forward slightly; freaking Sirius out as he reached out for you as if you were going to fall forward, his hand holding your upper arm. "Great question, James! We were just wondering that ourselves." You answered sarcastically as Lily snickered lightly from beside James.

"Oi!" James exclaimed, pointing a finger at you with a small glare, "Watch that attitude, I know where you sleep. I will dungbomb you."

"Ha! I’d like to see you try!" You scoffed, throwing your head back as you laughed a bit, "And good luck getting up those stairs. You know no boys are allowed or able to get up there." You continued to taunt, your gaze flickering between the three boys standing next to each other before looking over at Lily. "How are you today, Lily, dear?" You asked, your sarcastic tone replaced with genuine curiosity.

"Well, thank you for asking." She responded politely and glanced at James who was now pouting. "And you?"

"What can I say? I'm great." You shrugged and grinned. "What brings you all here?"

Peter, the usual quietest of the bunch, aside from Remus, then spoke, "We were looking for Padfoot. James had an idea for a prank for McGonagall."

You furrowed your eyebrows, "McGonagall? She'll know you're up to something before you even have a chance to pull it off."

"That's what I said." Remus spoke up from beside Peter.

“Smart boy, as always,” You commented, before looking back down at James, “You should really listen to Remus more often.”

Sirius shuffled slightly in his spot on the branch beside you, thinking. Usually, Sirius would always jump at the chance to prank his professors, but as he turned his gaze towards you, now up in conversation with his friends, he didn't want to leave.

"Sirius!" James called out, snapping him out of it, "Why are you staring at Y/N, mate? She got something on her face or something?"

Sirius quickly turned to look down at James, glaring slightly as you looked at Sirius, rubbing your hand on your cheek. "Do I have something on my face?" You asked, in real concern.

James only smiled knowingly, shaking his head; knowing that he caught Sirius staring at you. Like he usually was in your company, or when you weren't. It was a bit of a problem, especially for Sirius. But, he really couldn't help it. If he was ever in the vicinity of you, Sirius would spend time just watching, admiring how beautiful you looked. How perfect you were. You were just so adorable.

"I swear to Godric, Pads, if you stare at her any longer... I'm going to hex you." James threatened, giving Sirius his famous 'stare down' look. Only then did Sirius realize that he had started staring at you... Again. Sirius cleared his throat, pulling his attention away from you, but you just covered your mouth with a hand, your eyes squinted slightly as you giggled; all muffled. James began to laugh as well before hopping from foot to foot, in a weird little jig, "Sirius and Y/N sitting in a tree,"

"James..." Sirius sighed deeply, feeling a bit embarrassed, but James continued.

You huffed beside him, “You’re acting childish, James, really.”

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Oh, stop teasing him, James!" Lily scolded and shook her head. "Honestly, James, you don't need to make fun of him like that."

"Yeah, James," You called down, swinging your legs, your hands sturdy on the branch, "Don't you have a prank to work on?"

Nodding his head, James spoke, "Yeah, I do. Padfoot." He addressed Sirius, who shook his head.

Though his pride was slightly wounded, Sirius knew James wasn't actually trying to hurt him. James knew of Sirius's affections towards you - everyone in all of Hogwarts basically knew - Sirius knew that James was just wanting to help him a bit; shove him in the right direction. Giving the four his signature grin, he waved them off with a hand, "You go off without me. I'm going to stay here for a bit longer." He spoke, surprising the four, but making James and Lily smile knowingly once more; along with surprising you.

You turned your head, looking at Sirius with a shocked little smile on your face, "You're staying?" You questioned quietly, surprised at how eager you sounded.

"Well, I guess we'll leave you two lovebirds to talk alone then." James winked at you before turning towards his friends, giving you a small wave, "We'll meet you guys later!" With that, they walked away.

“Bye, Y/N, dearest!” Lily waved to you, which you quickly waved back with a smile.

“Bye, Lily, darling! I miss you already!” You sighed, watching them go before looking back over at Sirius with an unsure expression on your face, you asked, "Why aren't you going with them?"

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked, tilting his head slightly as you huffed slightly and shrugged a shoulder, beginning to fidget with a loose strand of your sweater.

"I mean... You could be pranking McGonagall right now. Even though she's the sweetest professor in the world. Aside from Professor Sprout." You answered, glancing up at him.

Sirius scoffed jokingly, "Minerva hates James and I, love."

"Probably because you call her by her first name most of the time." You countered, rolling your eyes playfully. “And you don’t do your homework, or many of the lessons, or pay attention…” You trailed off.

"Maybe." He hummed in agreement. Silence filled the area after that, the only sound being the sounds of soft bird calls.

Biting your lip, you began to play with your hands, picking at the skin around your nails subconsciously, "I mean, even though pulling pranks goes against every fiber of my being, I don't want to be holding you back from having fun with your friends while we're on our free period. I mean, I wouldn’t be mad if you went after them."

"Y/N," Sirius started, confidently, reaching out and taking one of your hands, "I want to stay here. With you. Because I'd rather be here than anywhere else. And, well..." He leaned a bit closer, his eyes flickering over your soft features. Your hair shone slightly in the sunlight which reflected off of it softly. His hand tightened around yours, bringing it to rest on his chest, "I'm usually good at this."

Swallowing thickly, you ran your tongue over your bottom lip, wetting it, "Usually good at what?" You asked, almost breathlessly.

"I'm usually good at talking to girls and charming them, y'know," Sirius tried to grin, "But, I've never been very good at... This..." He gestured towards you and himself with a finger, "I don't want to mess this up. I really like you, Y/N…" He admitted quietly, his cheeks heating up as he realized what he'd said.

A small, light laugh escaped your lips, causing Sirius to worry a bit, "Sirius..."

'Sirius what?' He thought, 'Sirius, I only want to be friends,' or would it be, 'Sirius, I actually like someone else, and it's not you.' There were so many terrible thoughts running through his mind of possible outcomes but at the slight squeeze you gave his hand, Sirius forced himself to ignore those thoughts and look back up at you.

Smiling at him reassuringly, you spoke, "I don't think you could ever mess this up."

"Really, love?" He asked, and you nodded, scooting a bit closer to him on the branch.

"Really, Siri. I really like you too.”

He chuckled softly before nodding his head, smiling back at you. The atmosphere became more comfortable again as silence surrounded the two of you. You stared into Sirius's eyes, your breathing hitching slightly. You were mesmerized by their beauty, and how deep they seemed. And did his hair always look this nice? 'Yes, always.' You thought, 'It looks so soft...'

"What did James sing to us again?" Sirius asked, his smile growing into a small smirk, "You and I... Sitting in a tree..."

"He's a menace." You laughed before shaking your head lightly, unable to stop smiling, "Mm, something about K-I-S-S-I-N-G." You mumbled, a light flush covering your cheeks.

"Yeah," Sirius muttered, wetting his own bottom lip, his eyes narrowing on your own lips, "That."

"No," You mirrored his smirk, "I don't think I know that song." You answered sarcastically, feeling his warm breath on your face as he leaned forward again. And suddenly you felt his nose touching yours as his other hand came up and cupped your face, stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb. He was so close, and yet so far. It was almost agonizing, but before he finally closed the distance between the two of you, you suddenly felt him slip away. Fluttering your eyes open, you became confused, only to hear Sirius yell out, followed by a 'thud.' Your eyes widened, looking down at the ground, where Sirius lay, groaning in pain. "Oh goodness! Sirius!" You exclaimed, quickly holding onto the branch, you began to fall backward, flipping yourself around, landing on your feet, "Sirius, are you alright?!"

If Sirius hadn’t been in pain, he would have commented how impressed he was by your little trick but the ache on the back of his head was distracting. "Mmhmm," Sirius groaned out his answer as he sat up, rubbing the back of his head briefly as he watched you hurry over to him; getting onto your knees, sitting on the back of your legs.

Reaching out, you carefully placed your hand where his hand was, feeling a slight bump. "You have a bump. Are you concussed? Is there anything else hurting? Do you need me to take you to the hospital wing?"

"Love, I'm fine, really," Sirius tried to reassure you, giving you a small - slightly pained - smile, "I’ve got my favorite nurse right here.” He joked, making you huff, but he continued, “There is actually something else that hurts actually, now that I think about it." He spoke, but you couldn't hear the growing playfulness in his tone as your worry overtook your senses.

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you frowned, "Where is it? I mean, you fell from what- Ten feet. I hope you didn’t break anything. What hurts?" You asked, almost ranting; frantic, as Sirius felt his chest warm at the sight of you worrying over him.

"Will you kiss it better?" Sirius asked and you vigorously nodded, placing your hand over his that was propping him up on the grassy ground.

"Yes, of course, just tell me, Sirius Black." You insisted as Sirius gave you a small pout.

"Here..." He breathed, his voice low as he gestured to his lips with his other hand, "My mouth." He added as you tilted your head in confusion.

Pursing your lips, you furrowed your eyebrows, "Seriously?" You deadpanned.

Sirius just continued to grin, "That's my name…” He sighed, his playful gaze softening slightly, “And you could wear it out." He teased and you rolled your eyes, scooting forward so you sat in front of him; his leg instinctively crossed, allowing you to move closer in front of him.

"You’re ridiculous." You murmured with a sigh, a small hint of a smile threatening to appear on your face. You cupped the back of Sirius’s neck with one hand, catching him off guard slightly, your fingers resting delicately at the base of his neck. Brushing his soft hair there, you then gently pulled his lips towards yours. You felt Sirius's arms snake around your waist immediately as he quickly kissed back. It was a quick kiss, quicker than Sirius had wished, but nonetheless perfect.

"Is that better?" You asked as you pulled away, voice soft as Sirius nodded his head, a dopey grin on his face.

"Much better, darling," Sirius responded with a wide smile before letting out a small slew of chuckles, making your grin widen and eyebrow raise.

“What?” You then asked, curious.

Sirius shook his head quickly, trying to contain his laughter, "I guess you could say that I siriusly fell for you." He joked, grinning as you raised an eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes fondly, "You're ridiculous..."

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peachesofteal · 2 years ago

Text

Sunlight

Part six of the Sassy series

Simon Riley/female reader 3.3k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI (no smut but this fic has mature themes), mentions of violence, blood/injury and bombs, panic attacks, hurt/comfort, PTSD, dissociation, fluff, little bit of angst, comfort, caretaking. Simon was due home four days ago.

The clock reads two in the morning. Your tea sits cold on the coffee table, television droning on mindlessly in the background at a low volume, so it doesn’t wake Theo. You’ve given up the incessant pacing for laying on the couch, the cushions sagging in the middle where Simon usually sits, the creak in the armrest on his side a surprisingly comforting sound compared to the repetitive tick of the clock's second hand.

His bag waits by the door. Theo sleeps in the wrap that has him tied to your chest, his face squished against your skin, long lashes laying flush against his cheeks.

“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” you whisper, notching your fingers into the crook of Simon’s elbow. You apply soft pressure, just enough to draw him closer to you, until he’s standing with an arm around your back, leaning down to nuzzle Theo.

“I’m sure, Sass.” You swallow a rebuttal, the anxiety of him leaving for an op crawling up your throat, threatening to spill out in the form of unnecessary pleas for assurances that he’ll be coming back.

Promises that he’ll be coming home.

Promises that he’ll never be able to make.

He pulls away with a sigh, cradling your face and tilting your chin upwards, before sealing his lips over yours, parting your mouth with his tongue and tasting you.

“Only a few weeks, yeah?” his thumb strokes along your cheekbone while he presses a whisper soft kiss to the top of the baby’s head. You nod.

“Only a few weeks.”

“Where are you, Si.” It’s the fourth night of this, the waiting. The overdue arrival bears down on you, reducing you to a nervous mess, something you’ve never been before Theo, before him.

You used to sit still, sit silent.

Now, you’re pacing holes into the floor of your house, waiting for the missing piece of your family to come home, four days overdue.

Four days overdue. The first night you tried not to let it eat at you. Things happen. Combat engagement, recon, overwatch, anything could take longer than initially planned or expected. The second night, your rational thought started to slip. Worst case scenarios started to play out in your mind, the stress of not knowing what’s going on keeping you awake, keeping you on edge. You’d cuddle Theo for hours, nose pressed to the crown of his head, hand softly patting his back as you rocked him, trying not to watch your phone as you waited for the text from the restricted number. By the third night, you were dread spiraling. Who would make the call? Would it be Price, knocking on your door with regret in his eyes, carrying the news that your son’s father, your partner, is dead? Would it be Kyle? Or Johnny? Fear spread through you like a virus. He can’t be gone. He can’t. He promised.

Tonight, you were uncertain. It would take a lot to kill Simon Riley, would take even more to kill Ghost. But what if he’s been taken again? What if he’s being tortured? Or worse. What if he needs you? Your stomach flips violently as you freefall through all the possibilities.

“Where are you?”

“Yeah Johnny, I’ll tell him. Be safe.” You hang up the phone and look at Simon out of the corner of your eye.

“Simon… why didn’t you tell me you took indefinite leave?”

“I told ya I took leave.”

“You didn’t want to mention that it’s indefinite? That you didn’t give him a return date?”

“Didn’t know when it’d be. Didn’t want to commit to anything.” You roll over slowly to where he’s lying on his back, propped up slightly with a pillow. Fingers drag under his sweatshirt and up his stomach, until your palm lays flat over his heart.

“Are you planning on going back? To the 141?”

“When he really needs me, he’ll call. ‘Til then, I want to be here. With you.” His fingertips stroke slowly over where your belly is covered by the blanket, until he’s moving it aside and the heat of his skin is against yours.

You’re not sure what time it is when you wake. You sit up, blanket pooling around your lap, blindly groping for your phone when the mass of a shadow shifts just at the very edge of your line of sight. Almost like it’s not there at all.

It takes you three, maybe four, seconds before you rationalize everything. Your eyes adjust, and you can make out the lines of his body, the extremely dim light from the hallway illuminating the balaclava, the way his shoulders are hunched forward, hands curled atop his knees.

“Simon?” your throat scratches. He doesn’t respond. You stretch to the side, pulling the chain on the end table lamp, and the light dances across his face. You blink in surprise.

He’s still wearing the paint.

“Ghost.” The call sign comes out more like a command, but calm, and his muscles tense under his clothes, fingers digging into his legs. You reach for his hand, keeping your touch as light as possible.

“Don’t.” he snaps, jerking backwards. You can hear the harsh line of his breathing, the tense crackle between his lungs.

“Okay.” Your mind is cycling, your own memories gnawing at you until you refocus, and then your phone vibrates in the spot where it’s fallen between the couch cushions. He lurches. “It’s just my phone.” You keep your voice soft, nearly as gentle as when you sing to Theo. A beat passes, and then he nods. You breathe a very small sigh of relief. He’s in there. “Do you want to take the balaclava off?” you coax, and he grunts out the first words you’ve heard him say in weeks.

“The paint.”

“We can take that off too.” His eyes flick up towards yours, and you see him, Simon, for only a second before he’s shuttered again. “Will you come with me?” He doesn’t answer. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek. “Okay. Wait here.” You instruct, pushing a little more authority behind your voice, and step away slowly.

After you dart to your room to grab some sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt, both Simon sized, you plug the sink in the kitchen. This will be easier than trying to get him up the stairs. Your first step is to get the balaclava off, and then the paint, if he’ll let you touch his face. If you’re lucky, you’ll be able to get him out of his clothes and into the clean ones.

You’ve seen this before. Not often, not enough that it’s comfortable, but enough that you know more or less what to do, so when you duck back into the living room and see he hasn’t moved, you square your shoulders.

“I’m going to bring you into the kitchen. You’re going to take my hand and follow my lead.”

“On you.” He rasps, and tears smart at the corners of your eyes.

“On me. I’ve got you.”

“We’re moving on second location. Sassy, what’s your status?”

“I’ve found the bombs.” You don’t elaborate, too busy studying the heap of melted plastic. You think it’s Semtex, or some form of it, but can’t be sure. It barely has the odor, the one you can usually smell nearly half a mile away, and the rubber casing is green, not red. “Captain, I’ve got a situation. Gonna need more time, over.”

“Copy. We’ll give you all we can.” You pull the gun from your shoulder and put it on a table before crouching before the greenish blob. There’s a small cut in the casement, and you lift it with slow fingers to reveal a square piece of metal, blinking with a red light. Detonation.

“Nice and easy,” You mutter, disconnecting it from its power supply and watch with satisfaction when the light dies. “No explosions here today, folks. All-“ There’s a click, and a hiss, and then yellow fog explodes directly into your face. “What the fuck.” You choke, hands shooting forward. Your eyes begin to burn, and you frantically try to pat away whatever it is with your sleeves.

You blink a few times and try to focus, pushing past the stinging sensation and the tears that are dripping down your cheeks. Your body felt fine, you weren’t experiencing any major pain that could be associated with injury, and you still had feeling in all extremities. You could hear the rumble of the HVAC system in the building, and the echo of shots coming from both inside and outside, but your vision was still dark. Black, like someone had flicked the lights off.

A blackout. It was like you were in a noxious, corrosive blackout.

Your mind starting turning. Not good, this was not good. This was worse than not good. You were physically blinded. Alone, in hostile territory with no way to navigate an escape route.

A sitting duck. Ripe for the picking.

“Captain-“ your finger releases the button and you take a shaky breath. “Price. I need extraction. I’ve been hit with something. A chemical. It’s critical. I won’t make rendezvous on my own.”

“Stay your position, Sassy.” The answer is immediate, and you breathe a very small sigh of relief.

“Copy.” You hold your hands out in front of you, one high, one low, and walk slowly in what you think is the direction of your gun. One step, two step. Right, left. Your fingers slide along the edge of the table, moving across the top until you feel the cool metal of your weapon and take it into your hands. You try to remember the layout of the room, where the door was, how many tables and chairs, but your panic is starting to bear down on you, and your thoughts are growing more erratic, clouded with fear.

The sound of metal on metal, the door banging open into the wall, startles you.

You swing, unsure where it is you’re even looking or even pointing.

“Sass! Lower your weapon.” A voice barks. His voice.

“Ghost.” You croak. The word sounds broken.

“Bloody hell. What’re you doing?” You can barely hear his footsteps, but his voice is moving closer. Damn stealth operators and their light feet.

“I can’t see you.” you try to explain, try to make it make sense but even saying the words seem ludicrous. “I can’t see anything. The… the Semtex, it gassed me, or something.”

“Let me see.” Big, gloved fingers hold your face, turning it from side to side. “Can’t see at all?”

“Nothing.” You gulp. “I’ve never… I’ve never had this happen, it was a chemical, I don’t know what-“ Blind. Poisoned. It could be permanent. The air in the room suddenly feels thin, and then the gun is being pulled from your grip.

“Simon.” You say his name with a gasp for the first time since Belize and he draws a sharp breath. Your own is coming in frantic gasps, the taste of panic souring on your tongue, compressing your spine until it hurts. Blind. You’ve been blinded.

“Sass, hey. Sass! Listen to me.” The only thing you can hear is your harsh panting. Blind. Poison. Blind. Poison. “I’m right here with you. I’m going to get you out.”

“You’re g-going to get me out.”

“That’s right.” He pauses, and you hear fidgeting, the clink of metal and rustling of something you can’t place. “I’ve got you, Sass.” You sink into the grit and grain of his voice, settling your wildly thumping heart, and a rough, calloused hand takes yours, thumb stroking over your knuckles. “I’m going to take lead. You’re gonna hold onto my vest and stay right on my heel, yeah?”

“O-okay… Hostiles?”

“Negative. All clear.” He guides you to a strap at his side, and you grip as tight as you can. You hear him shifting and then the comm clicks. “Price. I found Sass. Making our way to exfil now. Out here.” Another pause. “Ready?”

“Yeah.” A hand squeezes where you’re latched onto him, and you nod, even though you don’t have a clue if he’s looking at you or not.

“On me. I’ve got you.”

“On you.”

He sits stiffly in the kitchen chair that you’ve dragged over to the sink.

“I’m going to take the balaclava off.” He nods once, in acknowledgement, and your fingers find the edge of the fabric. It’s hard, crusted with something, blood, you assume, and you roll it upwards, careful not to make any sudden movements. When he doesn’t jerk away, you give him an encouraging smile, pulling it up past his mouth, and then over his head as gently as you can. “That’s good, Simon. You’re okay.” You tell him, and the corners of his eyes soften a fraction. You dip the washcloth into the sink, below the surface of the lukewarm, soapy water, before squeezing it out. “I’m going to try to get some of the paint off now.” You narrate every step, grounding him, guiding him through your actions so that he knows what’s coming, so he can prepare in all states of his mind. “You’re doing really well, Si. Really good.” You soothe, pressing the cloth gently to his skin, dabbing the paint away slowly and timing the pace of his breathing in your head.

“Have you seen LT?” Soap slings an arm your neck, pulling you in for a half hug, and you try to push him off. He’s still sweaty and gross, and a little bit bloody, while you’re freshly showered and bandaged. Why he waits so long to get cleaned up, you’ll never know.

“Nah, haven’t. Did you check his room?”

“Thought you might want to.” He raises an eyebrow and you cut him a glare. He’s been onto the two of you since the 141 left Belize two weeks ago, and he’s smug about it.

“Shut up, Soap.” You silence him, but unease gnaws at you like it’s burning a pit in your stomach. Where is he? “If I see him, I’ll tell him you’re looking for him.” You assure the sergeant before he gives you a mock salute and takes off.

He isn’t in his room after all, he’s in yours. Still in full tac gear, hard mask on over the balaclava, he sits like a stone on the edge of your bed.

“Hey, Johnny was looking for you.” you say, kicking your shoes off. Your muscles scream when you bend to pick them up, your body sore from a forty-three-hour op that felt like it was never going to end. “Hello?” you push when he doesn’t answer you, turning to study him. His muscles are coiled, everything so tight that he looks like he’s a second from breaking apart, and he has his eyes trained on the wall, on the blank space between the closet and the bathroom. What is happening?

“Simon?” you hedge, but he just stays shock still. “Hey…” you step a little closer, leaning down to get into his line of sight. He doesn’t even blink. “Ghost?” you try, and it ripples through him like a wave, his jaw shifting, molars grinding against one another slowly. Okay, you breathe deeply. Okay. Should you go get Johnny? You look at him again. Yeah. Johnny will know, Johnny will be able to-

“Sass.” His voice sounds different. It’s still the same, deep gravel that you dream about, but something about it is lighter. Unsure. “I… can’t get the paint off.” You frown and try to cover your confusion. The paint? He’s still in his combat gear. You study him again. His body is still frozen, like he’s stuck, and you chew on a lip. Something is very not right here.

“Okay. Let’s take care of that then.” You keep your voice even and smooth, moving slowly. He closes his eyes when your fingers brush against the sleeve of his shirt. “I’ve got you.” you whisper, arm snaking around his back to unbuckle the pulley strap on his vest. He nods, nearly imperceivable to a civilian, but to you, someone who knows, who understands that every muscle, every fidget is accounted for in combat, it’s enough. After you get the vest free, you skate along the hem of his shirt to where the balaclava lays, and then up to the edge of the mask. “I’m going to take the mask off.” You release the clip that holds it in place, and let it fall into your waiting hand, revealing the black paint spread around his eyes and across his nose. He blinks, a harsh breath coming from his now shaking body and you still, fingers hovering in his line of sight. “It’s alright.” You voice wavers but you shove it down, adopting a firmer tone, something more commanding. “Let’s get the balaclava off, yeah?” His hands flex on your mattress, and you glance over the sight of the blood crusted in the creases of his knuckles. “I’m still right here. With you.” you remind him, pulling it up his face and then over in one movement, not eager to draw it out. The tendons in his forearms pulse, but he doesn’t move. “I’m going to go get a… cloth. Or something. For the paint. Okay? Everything’s… gonna be okay.” He gives you another miniscule nod, and his eyes flicker to yours for a brief second before returning to the spot on the wall.

“I’m right here, I’ve got you.” You smile, and he starts to relax more, the harsh lines at the corners of lips easing.

“The sunlight.” He says, and you glance at the window where the first rays of morning are peeking through the pane.

“Yeah, must be close to dawn.” You can feel his muscles turning soft underneath your hands, his shoulders gradually sinking lower and lower, the tension in his face melting away with every second.

Theo cries from his room.

Simon’s eyes flash, and his hand darts forward to wrap around your wrist, thumb pressing to where your pulse beats.

“It’s just Theo.” At the sound of the baby’s name, his stress decreases, but he doesn’t release you. You reach for your back pocket, where your phone is, thumbing the screen open to your photos, scrolling through the favorites until you find the dimly lit picture that the nurse snapped for you the night Theo was born. You turn it towards him, and his brows crease slightly, realization, recognition working its way through his mind. “It’s my favorite.” You insist, pressing the phone into his palm, while pulling free from his grasp. You watch his pupils contract and dilate, his lips parting when he sees himself, stiffly holding his newborn like Theo is actually a bomb. “I think we got all the paint.” He makes a noise in his throat, thumb swiping to another picture. It’s one from when Theo was three months old, and Simon is shirtless, asleep on his back in the bed, one arm propped behind his head. Theo is also asleep, snuggled in the crook of his dad’s arm, empty bottle discarded on the pillow. Your face is in it, tired eyes lit with mirth where you positioned yourself in the frame of the selfie, little grin tugging your mouth to the side.

“Yeah.” He’s still staring at the picture.

“Can you get undressed so I can wash those?” He doesn’t answer, just pulls you into him, pressing your palm to his lips and closing his eyes. You count to five, taking long deep breaths in sync with his, before you point to the clothes on the table. “Get changed. I’m going to go get Theo, okay?” You try another question, hoping you’ll be able to switch out commands and to your relief, he clears his throat and gives you another ‘yeah’ before you step away. He reaches for you one more time, face fixed towards the sunlight before turning his gaze back up into yours.

“I love you.” His voice breaks. Your eyes start to burn with tears again.

“I love you too, Si.”

#sassy series #simon riley x reader #simon x sass #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #ghost cod #cod mw2 #ghost x reader #peaches writes

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justmeinadaze · 2 years ago

Text

I Have Nothing (If I Don't Have You) (Steddie X You)

A/N: Like I said last week, I was watching the music video for "Queen of the Night" by Whitney Houston from the soundtrack of this movie and it gave me this Steddie idea.

I have a few ideas I can take this! I seriously love protective Steddie. Probably something to do with my PTSD and need to feel safe lol Anyway... I hope you enjoy it! I dedicate this to @unfocused81 <3

Warnings: No smut (yet😈) but angst for sure. Security Steddie and Singer female reader. It is mentioned that Y/N does drink excessively and do drugs. Her boyfriend is a douchebag and assaults her (mentions of smacking and grabbing her, yelling at her, and calling her names) that results in Steddie intervening. There is also a bit of a riot at one of shows that they protect her from (kind of like that scene in the movie where people jump on stage and chaos ensues).

I wouldn't really call this dark themes but reader definitely has some things going on and is struggling a lot right now.

Work count: 5906

“What kind of security work have you guys done before?”

Your manager leans against the outside of his desk as he continues to scan through the messages on his phone.

“Oh, um, we’ve done a lot before for the bar in our town and most recently a rock band in—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”, the manager cuts Steve off as he speaks. “That’s all well and good. Look, I’m going to level with you. This is essentially expensive babysitting. Y/N is a handful. Our last security detail quit when her last party at her house caused a riot in the streets of LA.”

“A riot?”, Eddie turned to his friend and raised an eyebrow inquisitively.

The guy sets his phone down, sighing with impatience. “Yes. Obviously, you two don’t read or watch the news…which is good. Saves me the headache. Now, do you want the job or not?”

Both boys glance at each other before looking towards the man again. “Um, yeah sure. I mean it pays, right?”

“That’s the spirit. Ok, she’s at the studio downstairs right now recording…or at least that’s what she’s supposed to be doing. Go introduce yourselves. Glad to have you aboard.”, he rolls his eyes as he shoos them out of his office.

“Steve are you sure about this?”, Eddie asks as they head for the elevator.

“Yeah. Come on, Munson. This is our ticket to high-rate clients and more money! We can handle one little girl.”

As soon as they get off on the right floor, they are met with extremely loud music and giggles from the studio room. A tall, lanky kid leans back in his chair extending his hand to greet both boys.

“Hey, are ya’ll the security? I’m Devon. She’s in there ‘getting inspired’.” Their eyes follow his finger as he points behind the glass where you and some of your friends were strewn around the floor. “Good luck, gentlemen.”, he sings.

Both men carefully tip toe around arms and legs to find you with your eyes closed, a half smirk painted across your lips.

“Uh, Miss Y/L/N? I’m Steve Harrington and this is Eddie Munson. We’re your new personal security guards.”

“Hmm…sounds sexy.”, you slur. Your glassy, drug fueled eyes look up to meet theirs. “At least Jack hired some good-looking ones this time. Who is who?”

“Maybe, if you stood up and actually greeted us, you would have heard who is who the first time.”, Eddie chided.

Your eyes fully open as your head tilts in his direction. No one ever had the balls to scold you like that since you became famous. It was usually “Yes ma’am” this or “Anything you want, ma’am. We’ll make it happen.”. Rising to your feet, you fully take them in through your haze.

They both were attractive especially with that air of confidence you hadn’t seen in a long time. Your current boyfriend was cocky but definitely not confident. Everyone else around you seemed so fucking timid and you hated it.

“Eddie. Steve.”, Steve repeated, pointed to his friend then himself.

He was dressed head to toe in what you would call “conventional” clothes; nothing designer or anything to make him stand out. You could tell under the button up white, short sleeve shirt that he did have muscles that could protect you physically if need be. The jeans and sneakers he donned didn’t give you any new information that could tell you something about him except he probably didn’t make a whole lot of money.

Eddie was more or less the same with a much more grunge fashion sense that, to you, he pulled off well. You pointed to his Metallica t-shirt with your finger.

“My music isn’t like theirs. It might make your ears bleed.”

“As long as I can still see you and see you’re safe, I think I’ll survive.”

He’s quick witted. I like that…

“Ok. We’ll give it a try. Tomorrow, you’ll meet me at my house and I can tell you more about what you’ll be doing.”

***

“Steven Harrington, have you read half this stuff?”, Eddie sighs as he leans forward and places his elbows on his knees as he points at things on his laptop.

“She’s been arrested twice; once for possession and another for disorderly conduct where she was found having sex with someone while she was drunk in public. The cops have been called to her house multiple times due to, honestly, take your fucking pick. Her boyfriend was arrested just last week for sucker punching one of her fans for ‘getting too close’. How are we supposed to protect someone who invites all this chaos into her life.”

“I don’t know, Ed. The same way you protect anyone I guess.”, Steve leans back on the couch as he takes a sip from his bottle of beer. “Again, this is just a steppingstone. I’m sure after a few months of handling her, any number of high value agencies will want to hire us. WHICH MEANS…”, he glances towards Eddie. “…you need to control your Dom voice.”

The metalhead chuckles as he leans back as well. “It’s going to be hard with a fucking brat like her. Dude, she didn’t even have the common courtesy to say hello.”

“I know… I know… but just, try. For me?”

#########

It takes you awhile to open the door when they knock but when you finally do, you look completely hung over.

“Yeah, come…come in. Do you want something to drink? Jack? Vodka? I have them all.”

“It’s 10am.”, Steve responds as he looks at his watch.

You raise an eyebrow at him before heading for the kitchen and grabbing the whole bottle of Jack Daniels. “If you’re boring, Eddie. Just say that.”

“Steve. I’m Steve.”

“Right now, I don’t care—”

“We can tell.”, Eddie growls.

You blink as you look up at him. You’ve never wanted to toy with a man so bad in your life. He wasn’t even trying to hide that your disrespect was bothering him and honestly you couldn’t get enough.

“I’m sorry, gentlemen. I don’t do mornings. Unfortunately, my manager insists on scheduling interviews for me that require me to up at this ungodly hour.” They watch you as you slump onto the couch and throw your arm over your eyes. “So, how much did Jack tell you?”

“Uh, just the basics. We watch out for you.”

“Good. It’s just following me around and making sure I don’t get swarmed or murdered. I’ll give you guys a key to my house before you leave today and when I stay at hotels I’ll do the same. You’ll most likely be staying in the same room as me anyway so…”

The sound of banging on your front door makes you cringe. “I guess I’ll get it.”, Eddie sighs as Steve’s eyes follow him. “Your makeup people are here, your highness.”

A big grin spreads across your face as you turn your head to look over at them. “I like him. Steven, you need to start stepping it up or he’ll become my favorite.”

The metalhead lazily glances towards his friend with playful wide eyes. “Well, lucky me.”

***

As snotty as your attitude was, they couldn’t deny how beautiful you were especially after your prep team was done putting you together. The makeup hid all damage you had done to yourself the night before and the outfit they had you in sexily showed off all your curves. Your eyes shifted to them, watching them as they looked around.

“No one is going to shoot me in here, boys.”

“Hm. You never know.”, Eddie exhales as he points to things. “Someone could come in through that back door behind you or because no one checks any of these people’s IDs, someone could sneak in pretending to be a hair stylist and take you out like that.”, he snaps his fingers.

“Bags that hold all the beauty and camera equipment are big enough to hold even a rifle let alone a handgun. That’s implying someone would want to shoot you instead of stabbing or blowing you up.”, Steve followed.

“Wow. Just charming.”

“It’s our job, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I think due to the circumstances you can call me Y/N.”, you grin.

The producer gets your attention, walking you through the questions that would be asked and how the interview would go. The boys watched you in amazement as your personality practically changed when the camera went live. No one would ever be able to tell what you did behind the scenes or any other narrative then the one you provided.

An hour later and after many questions, the interview ended and your face fell.

“God, I need a drink.”

“Can we at least go over the tour first?”, your manager whined.

“Baby!”

You excitedly got up and ran to your boyfriend’s arms. “Simon!”

Everyone in the room cringed at the heavy smacking sounds that left you two as he continued to sloppily kiss your lips.

“Who are the new guys?”

“Babe, these are the new security guys. This is Eddie and Steve.”

They stand up to shake his hand but as Steve extends his palm the man looks down at it like the gesture was beneath him. “Yeah, listen boys, hands off, okay? She’s mine.”, you giggle as he slaps your ass.

“Come on, baby. I got a surprise for you.” You squeal as he lifts you over his shoulder and carries you towards your bedroom.

“Y/N! We still have things to go over!”, Jack shouts as the door closes loudly.

#########

“I want to go home, Steven. It’s 2am and they’ve been fucking in there all god damn day. At this point we shouldn’t have a client anymore because he killed her by not giving her any food or fucking water. It definitely won’t be due to her climaxing because I haven’t heard that happen yet.”

“We can’t leave until he does.”, Steve sighs. “Or she dismisses us for the evening.”

As if on cue, Simon saunters past them into the kitchen, casually opening your fridge, and begins chugging from a jug of orange juice. “Um, I’m pretty sure you two can leave. She’s not even here.”

“What?!”

“Yeah, I’m assuming she climbed out the window after I crashed. She does that to escape the security teams. It’s kind of a rite of passage honestly.”

“Where would she go?”, Eddie growls.

“Um, there’s a bar about a mile up the road. She likes to walk there for some reason.”

***

“So, pretty lady. Do you want to come back to my place tonight?”

“Ugh, no. Get off me. I just want to drink in peace.”

“Oh, come on, honey.”, the man slurred.

“Hey! The lady said no.”, Steve’s voice echoed through the bar as he starred the man down. “Leave. Now.”

The patron held up his hands defensively, staggering back towards his table.

“Come on, Y/N. Time for you to go home.”, Eddie motioned for the bartender to stop serving you as the other boy reached into your purse to pay him.

“You’re my security. Not my fucking dad. I can stay here and drink if I want.”

“You’re at a bar in a nightie, shorts, and flip flops at 2 in the morning. It’s a safety concern.”

“Oh shit.”, you giggle. “I am in my nightie.” Steve roughly grips your arm and tugs you out the door towards his car. “Let me go, you fucking dick.”

A switch flips in the man’s brain; he can’t help it. For the past couple of days, he’s tolerated your disrespect but like Eddie, he hated it. They both could handle a lot but you were pushing them too far. Still holding onto your wrist, he twirls you towards the vehicle till your back hits the door.

“Now, listen here because I’m only going to say this once. We’ve handled the tone and the blatant disregard for what we do but it ends now. Our job is to keep you safe not fucking babysit some spoiled, rich washed-up singer. This is the last time you pull a stunt like this; do you understand me?”

Steve’s body was so close to yours you could feel his angry breath fanning your face. It had been ages since someone put you in your place like this and you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were a bit turned on. A new feeling washed over you though as your eyes scanned his face. For the first time since you entered this industry, you actually felt safe.

They weren’t afraid to be blunt with you which compared to everyone else in your life was a nice reprieve. You knew 90% of the people in your life, given the chance, would sell you out in a heartbeat but would still stand there and tell you how perfect you were.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Eddie’s voice startled you, completely unaware he was standing beside you with his hands in his pockets, glaring down at you with those same angry eyes.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Now get in the car.”

#############

That following morning, they half expected to be fired but were surprised when you opened the front door as soon as they knocked.

“We have to go to the studio first and then I have to get ready for the gig tonight.”, you mumbled as you swished around them, trying to get in the backseat of his car to no avail. “Can you open the door…please?”

Eddie caught it in your tone first…something wasn’t right and it had nothing to do with them.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Can we just…”, you gesture towards the car.

“HEY! When you get back tonight make sure it’s with a better fucking attitude!”, Simon yells from your front door.

“Well maybe I won’t come back, you free loading mama’s boy!”

“Stupid bitch should learn how to talk to a man.”, he muttered under his breath as he slammed the door shut.

Steve and Eddie exchange a look before the metalhead speaks to you. “Is that something we need to handle?”

“No. He’s just being a fucking prick.”

He opens your door and you slowly slide in before both men do the same. As the car begins to move, Steve keeps checking on you in his rearview mirror. Your sunglass covered eyes remain focused on the window as you stare out into the California streets.

“I’m sorry about yesterday. About leaving and keeping you guys out late when you didn’t have to. Simon just pissed me off and…”

“Does he talk to you like that often?”

“No. Sometimes he’s an asshole.” You flash them a sassy smirk that grows when you see Eddie try and hide his own at your sarcasm. “He’s just…hot headed, you know? He’s been through a lot.”

“And you haven’t?”

Your eyes swivel to Steve before glancing down at your hands. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“He shouldn’t be talking to you like that, Y/N.”

“Yeah, well, neither should I so…”

“Just because you have an attitude doesn’t mean you deserve to be treated like trash. Maybe you just need someone stronger who can handle it and not take it personally.”

“Oh? And who would that be, Steve? You?”

“Aw, Munson, that’s cute. She thinks we can’t handle her.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, we’ve dealt with worse than you.”, he smiles as he turns around in his seat. “It’s you that can’t handle us. Thankfully though we aren’t in a relationship so we’ll never get to find out.”

“I never say never, gentlemen.”

****

After going over the tour dates, everything you would be doing, and everything you need, your next stop was the venue you would be performing at tonight.

Eddie cringed as the feedback of the mic echoed around the building.

“Hey! Try plugging it into the correct port!” The young man shrugged his shoulders causing the metalhead to go over and show the boy what he was doing wrong.

“Let me guess? Rock and Roll drummer in a Metallica cover band?”, you grin at him as the mic starts picking up your voice perfectly.

“Guitarist and our own band, not a cover band.”

“What about you, Steve? Are you musically inclined?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“What are you good at?”

“Babysitting.”, he raised his eyebrow in your direction making your smile grow.

As the additional security from the venue finally arrived, you watched with fascination as the guys took on a more authoritative tone, telling each person where they would need to be. Time slowly dwindled till it was about twenty minutes before the show. You began pacing as you shook out your preshow jitters.

“Hey, they say they are ready for you to head towards the stage.”

You jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice. “Goddamn it! Okay, fucking thank you!” His eyes narrowed in your direction as he came in and closed the door behind him. “Can I help you with anything else?!”

“Are you alright?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re not my father, Steven, or my friend. Get the fuck out! I’ll be right out!”

The boy bites his bottom lip as he nods his head. “Yes ma’am.” As he starts to open the door, he pauses turning to face you again. “You look really beautiful, by the way. Your voice is amazing. Eddie and I have actually never heard any of your songs before today. This will be our first concert. I’m excited to see it.”

Your wide, glassy eyes turn to look at him as he slowly begins to close the door again.

“Steve! Thank you…”

##########

That night you gave it your all and then some. Occasionally, you would glance down at the bottom of the stage watching as Steve and Eddie’s demeanor remained focused on the task at hand. Sometimes, however, you would notice a foot tap to the beat or a head would bob to your lyrics. If this was the first time they were attending a Y/N concert, you wanted them to enjoy it and show them what you bring to the entertainment table.

So many people when you were starting out told you that you would never make it. That your dream of becoming a singer was a pipe dream for people with “actual talent”. Since day one you always felt like you had to prove yourself, hell, even before you started singing. In your house growing up you felt like you had to fight to be seen.

Once you crossed that threshold, everything came easier but you never stopped fighting. Fighting the fear of being nothing again, the knowledge that everyone in your circle just wanted a piece of you and what you earned. Fighting to keep everyone happy including yourself. The alcohol and drugs helped immensely or at least that’s what you believed. You thought it helped numb your brain and the pain so you could just get through every day.

When Eddie sassed you in the studio, you knew he was different. For a while you couldn’t get a read on Steve until that night outside of the bar. The fact that neither of them had asked you to hear their demo tape or hit on you was already a point in their favor but they genuinely seemed to want to protect you so you wanted to return the favor in some way, your voice.

When the concert ended, they snuck a peak at you. Eddie was never a fan of the type of music you sang but he couldn’t deny that what you did sing went straight to his heart. Steve noticed that while you sang, it was like you transported to a different place. You seemed calmer and more in tune with yourself, making you seem more confident than when you weren’t.

This was the first time since they met you that you genuinely seemed happy.

Something in the atmosphere changed. Maybe it was too many booze served at the bar or just the energy of the evening but people in the crowd started chanting for an encore. You were exhausted having gone longer on your set then you were supposed to already. You gave the crowd your best smile, thanking them for coming out, and telling them how much you loved their support.

A fan jumped on to the stage and Eddie was quick to pull him back down. Panic set in as you watched the crowd start to fight with each other and the security team jump into action. The metalhead was in front of you and you hastily gripped his arm as he scanned the area trying to find Steve.

“Harrington?!”

After tapping his shoulder, you pointed to the corner near a wall where you saw the boy in a fist fight of his own. Eddie pushed you towards the side of the stage behind a curtain.

“Don’t move! I’ll be right back, ok?!”, he shouted over the chaos as you gave him a firm nod.

You watched as he jumped off the platform, running to pull the man off his friend and shoving him to where you were hiding. Steve didn’t even hesitate as he lifted you into his arms and they both ran down the hallway. They didn’t stop until they reached their car and placed you in the back seat, him climbing in with you as Eddie sped away.

“Wait…what about Jack…and everyone else?”

“No. We have to get you out and away from the building especially during a scene like that.” Steve searched through his jacket pocket for a tissue, placing it against his nose when he finally finds one.

“Are-are you okay?”

“Yeah. Fucking asshole got me good.”

About a mile down the road, Eddie parked the car into a gas station and got out to check you both over. “What happened, Harrington? Let someone get the best of you?”, Eddie chuckled.

“Dude, they cornered me so fast especially after I pulled him off of the venue’s security guy.”

“Did I do that? Did I do something wrong?” Their head swivel around to look at your frightened frame. “Th-that’s never happened before…I-I-I…”

“Hey, hey, hey Y/N. It’s ok. You didn’t do anything wrong. I seriously think it was just…”, Eddie shrugs. “Beer and a packed in place. People just being…too rowdy. It happens but that’s what we’re here for.”

The man throws his arms up in surprise when you suddenly tackle him, wrapping your arms around his waist as you press your head into his chest.

“Thank you…so much.” You let him go as you turn to give Steve a hug as well. “I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

When you started to pull back, his arms came down to hold you to him. “Hey, better me than you.”, he gently sighs, “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

#######

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened?! Baby, are you okay?” Simon ran to you from his place on your couch as you and the guys entered your house.

“The concert ended a bit roughly but I’m ok. Really…”

“Isn’t it your job to fucking protect her!?”

“Yes and we did that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?! Look at her! She’s a mess and she’s shaking!” Your boyfriend charged up to Steve who glared down at him as he continued to yell in his face.”

“Simon, leave them alone. Please, I just want to get this crap off and go to bed.”

Eddie gripped his friend’s arm as he spoke to you. “Is there anything else you need, Y/N? Do you feel safe enough for us to leave and let you rest?”

“Of course, she fucking does. I can take care of her.”

Your eyes met theirs as you nodded. “Thank you.”

“We’ll talk to Jack and everyone in the morning.” The metalhead tugs at Steve forcing him to back down from your boyfriend. He flashes you one more cursory glance before turning around and leaving you for the night.

###########

“You boys did good last night. I don’t know what happened but you knew what to do.” Jack gave them a smile as he nodded his head in approval. “Please keep up that vigilance next week when we go on tour. I think—”

“Wait. You’re still doing the tour next week?”

Your manager looked at Eddie in confusion. “Yes? Why wouldn’t we?”

“I mean…she just went through a pretty traumatic event. I couldn’t imagine getting back up on a stage immediately after something like that.”

“Yeah, well, your security not a musician so—”

“I actually am but whatever.”

Jack sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as speaks to you. “Do you feel like you need more time?”

You didn’t even hear the man’s question. Since they picked you up and brought you to your managers office, you had been uncharacteristically quiet. You were thinking about everything including what transpired last night. It WAS incredibly scary but they did pull through and keep you safe. Not only did they look after you but each other; you appreciated that loyalty.

Now as Eddie defended you, thinking of your well-being, you felt yourself spiraling at the action. No one cared about you this much and they barely even knew you. What was their end game? What made them tick? What made them this way? Was it genuine or was it just their jobs?

“Y/N!”

“Huh? Oh, um, I mean…a week would be fine…especially if I can just rest…”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.”, Jack responded in a nonchalant tone. “Go ahead and take the week but be back here on Thursday so we can go over everything.”

You nod as you head out of the office with your protectors in tow. “Hey, um, did you guys want to go get some lunch or something?”

***

“So, why security?”, you ask as you bite into your burger.

“Like Steve said, I mean, we’re good at it.”

“Well, good at protecting people. Security work just allows us to get paid for it.”, the man smiles as he takes a sip from his drink.

“And you two have been friends for a while?”

“Since high school.”

“And where was that exactly?”

“You’re asking a lot of questions, sweetheart. Can I ask why?”, Eddie playfully narrows his eyes in your direction making you smile.

“I just…you two are very different then people we usually hire. I just want to know more about you.”

“Different how?”, Steve asks.

“I don’t know. You just seem to genuinely care.”

“If the people around you don’t genuinely care then you need to hire some new people.”

“Yeah, well, that’s hard to find in this industry.” You reach in your purse and raise a flask in their direction as you pour a bit into your coffee.

“Is that why you do things like that?”, Eddie gestures towards you drink.

“No, baby. I do things like this to keep me from going insane.”

“How about you do the healthy thing and stand up for yourself?”

You angerly turn your attention to Steve. “I can stand up for myself.”

“Oh? Is that why you let your manager, boyfriend, and entourage talk down to you the way they do?”

“Go fuck yourself, alright?! Look, I can stick up for myself and say what’s on my mind. For example, you two are complete fucking assholes.”, you growl. “I’m done eating. I want to go home.”

Eddie smirks as the other boy sighs. “Such a whiney, spoiled brat. I swear.” The metalhead pulls out his wallet, throwing money on the table as they both get to their feet. “Your highness.”, he gestures towards the front door.

“I’m not whiney or spoiled. I worked hard to get here and I’m not going to let you or anyone talk to me like that.”

“Yet you do.”, Steve retorts as he opens the back door to his car. You roughly reach across, slamming it shut. “I thought you wanted to go home.”

“Apologize to me.”

“For what? Pointing out the obvious? Frankly, I don’t get why you have such a low opinion of yourself. You’re beautiful, talented, and you have such a gorgeous voice yet you pump yourself with poison and let these people take advantage of you. Why?”

You exhale as you look towards the ground. “I can handle it.”

“You say that a lot.” Eddie folds his arms on top of the car as he leans onto his hands.

“Because I can.”

“By getting wasted?”

“My personal life is none of your fucking concern.”, you growl.

“You’re right.” Steve opens the back door again and this time you climb in. “You just seem like you deserve better.”

##########

“I swear, man, that girl is going to get us killed. Or put in prison after WE kill her.”, Eddie chuckles from his place on the sofa.

“I kind of like her.” The metalhead coyly raises his eyebrow at his friend. “Oh, come on, like you don’t?”, Steve sighs as he leans back against the couch. “There’s something hidden under all that sass and alcohol…I saw it when she was singing. I’d love to get to know that part of her better.”

Eddie grinned as he reached for his phone, smile fading when he saw the ID.

“Hello. This is Eddie Munson.”

“E-Eddie? I, um, I think—FUCK YOU! —I need help.”

“You stupid bitch! Open this fucking door right fucking now!”

Eddie ross to his feet, tugging at Steve’s arm as he searched for his keys. “Where are you?”

“I-I’m in my bedroom. Simon and I got into a fight and-and he’s wasted. Pl-please…I’m scared. He’s never been this angry.”

Steve had already started the car, speeding towards your house. “Hey, it’s ok, sweetheart. We’re on the way, alright? Just stay on the phone with me, ok?”

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you guys today. Fuck… you two seem s-so different. I-I just…”

“Y/N don’t even worry about that right now. Everything’s going to be alright. We’re almost there.”

“You think you’re so high and mighty! Think you can talk to me anyway you want to! Fuck you, you fucking slut! Open the door, Y/N!”

“Oh, sure! You fuck all the groupies and fans that show up to my concerts but I’m the fucking slut!”

“Y/N, stop engaging. Talk to me.” There’s a loud crash and a squeak from your side as the line cuts off. “Steve…hurry.”

Five minutes later, they are bursting through your front door, running towards your bedroom where they hear your boyfriend shouting. Steve tackles him to the floor subduing him with his knee in his back.

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Stop moving. You’re lucky I don’t fucking shoot you, asshole.”

“Y/N?”, Eddie softly called your name as you continued to cower in the corner with your head tucked into your arms. “Princess, everything is ok. I’m going to touch your arm.” You jump when his fingers graze your skin but you allow him to guide you to your feet. “There we go. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Can you look at me so I can check you out here?”

Your lips trembled as you faced him, his eyes slowly growing dark with fury as he scanned you over. Your face was red from your tears but he could also see where Simon had smacked your cheek. You had bruises that were starting to form on your arms where he must have grabbed you.

“I’ll call the police and EMS.”, he grumbled trying to contain his anger.

“No! No EMS. Please…I don’t need those pictures or attention.”

“But I do of me being pushed into a fucking cop car.”, Simon spat.

Steve grabbed his hair and hit his head into the carpet. “Shut. Up.” His eyes meet yours as he speaks in a much gentler tone. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, um, I have a first aid kit here and all that so I’m fine.”

***

The police came by and took Simon away after taking everyone’s statements. Eddie and Steve took care of almost everything which you immensely appreciated. After everyone left, you expected them to as well but as your front door closed, you found you weren’t the only one on the other side.

“I’m going to see if I can get your bedroom door back on its hinges.”, Eddie turned the corner to head down your hallway as Steve followed.

You tiptoe after them, watching them with bewilderment as the metalhead got to work and Steve began straightening up the things Simon had damaged.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” They both froze, straightening up to look at you. “Why…why are you so nice to me? I’m such a fucking bitch to you. According to you, I’m a bratty, spoiled, washed up singer. WHY are you doing this?!”, you gesture around the room.

They glanced at each other and after a few minutes it was Steve who finally spoke. “How should we be? Hm? Should we be like him? Do you think you deserve to be treated like this, Y/N?”

Their voices and demeanor completely changed in the moment; talking to you like a little girl who had just run into your parent’s room crying about a monster under her bed.

“Sweetheart, NO ONE deserve to be treated like this. You didn’t trigger this. What he just did…isn’t your fault. You did the right thing calling us here. Now what kind of protectors would we be if we left you here alone with your house like this?”

You broke, sobbing almost uncontrollably as your hands covered your face. Strong hands tenderly grabbed your biceps, pulling you into a chest as you wrapped your arms around his back. Another palm delicately petted your head and for the first time in your life, you had never felt safer.

Stepping back, you wipe your eyes, glancing up to see Eddie’s kind, worry filled orbs running over your face as Steve stood beside him doing the same.

“Can, um, can we worry about this tomorrow and you stay here with me tonight?”

“Yeah, we can stay here, honey. Do you have another room you can sleep in? I don’t think tomorrow morning you should open your eyes and this is the first thing you see.”

“I have a guest bedroom down the hall here.”

“Good because I agree with Steve. We can sleep on the couches out here and—”

“Can you sleep with me?”, you interrupt, your question startling both men. “I-I-I mean, you don’t have to. I just… I’m still a bit scared. I’m…forget about it.”

Eddie grabbed your hand as you started to walk away.

“We can do that for you. If that’s what you want.” You nod your head to his statement, watching him closely as his eyes shift from security Eddie to something you had never seen before in any man. Whatever it was it made you feel weak in the knees. His fingers reached out to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Can you say it?”

“I-I want you two to sleep…in my bed…with me. Please.” That last word comes out almost in a whisper, pleading with them to stay.

Steve’s fingers softly caress your cheek before gliding under your chin, turning you to face him. He had that same look Eddie had, that air of confidence you remembered seeing when you first met them but more dominate.

“Good girl.”

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