#also death cab is the opener so i HAD to be there

[ladylightning]

MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE TICKETS SECURED

[skzdarlings]

05. sharing a bed series ; skz ; han

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 5/8. because it’s the cheesiest most classic trope and it’s FUN. -

pairing: han jisung/reader content info: dom!reader. sub!jisung. sexual content. enemies2lovers, sharing a bed trope. past misunderstandings, grudges, bickering. femdom feat: face slapping, face sitting, hair pulling, choking, riding, denial-n-cumming-anyway, kneeling, more pussy eating. this one is a little longer. teehee :)

-

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight…”

Chan’s voice message crackles through your phone speaker but you can barely hear him over the bustling airport. You wait until you are outside in the pick-up zone to try listening again.  It is marginally quieter out here, cars coming and going, light snowfall brightening the winter night.  With your luggage at your feet, you replay his voice mail. 

“Hey, I hope you had a good flight.  Something came up at work and I’m not gonna be able to pick you up.  I’m really sorry ‘bout it, mate.  Jisung is on his way to get you.  I know, I know, but he’ll get you home, yeah?  If you’re still mad tomorrow, I’ll take you to lunch and you can kill me there.  Buh-byyeeeee!”   

Oh, that son of a bitch. 

The message ends just as a pair of headlights flash over you.  You can see through the front window but despite the direct eye contact Jisung still feels the need the honk the horn not once, not twice, but three times. 

You stand there with your arms hanging helplessly at your sides.  Snow falls on your head and a frown darkens your whole face.  Jisung just smiles and waves like an idiot, honking the horn again. 

I am going to kill Chan, you think to yourself. 

Jisung loves putting you in situations where you are the unrepentant supervillain of his life, so ignoring him and getting in a cab would just play into his horrible little hands.  He might look unassuming in his puffy coat and backwards cap, might look soft and friendly with his fair hair and plushy pink smile, might look innocent with his big brown eyes peering at you with cartoonishly saccharine enthusiasm, but in reality none of that is true. 

Han Jisung is the worst. 

Han Jisung is your nemesis. 

Han Jisung honks the horn again.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you shout.  You roll your eyes and heft your luggage over your shoulder, stomping with an incredible degree of petulance for a woman of your age.  You toss your bag in the trunk then slide into the passenger seat. 

Jisung honks again. 

“Hello, hello, welcome to Flight H.A.N with Jisung airlines, this is your pilot speaking—”

You turn on the radio to shut him up.  You are not in the mood for his shenanigans. 

Jisung cringes with theatrical chagrin.   

“Yikes,” he says with a bubbly laugh.  “Tough crowd.”

“Just drive.”  

“Yes, mistress, right away, mistress, Jisung lives to serve his mistress, please don’t hurt Jisung or leave him out in the cold tonight—”

You thunk your head against the headrest, glaring ahead as Jisung smoothly joins the traffic flow despite his nonsensical rambling. 

You vaguely remember a time when Jisung was shy, back before he made it his life mission to send you hurtling into an annoyance-induced death.  You also vaguely remember a time you liked him, him and his quietness, him and his quirky humour, him and his big, stupid, brown eyes. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Jisung sings along with the radio so you flip the station to one with talking.   He strums his fingers on the steering wheel, lips pursed and eyebrows lifted.  He casts you a few side glances that you pointedly ignore.   When you see him open his mouth, you hold up a finger. 

“Do not even think about it,” you say.  “Whatever you were about to say or do… Don’t.”

He presses his lips together and makes an obnoxiously loud pop.

“Kk,” he says.  “This should be a fun half hour.”

The airport is outside of the city, a half-hour drive to your downtown apartment.  Usually.  The weather has traffic horrifically backed up.  Half an hour comes and goes and you are barely out of view of the airport. 

“We could play a game,” Jisung says, looking at you sideways.  “I spy with my little—”

“Nope.”

“Okay, cool. Cool, cool, cool.”  He nods, strumming the steering wheel again. 

The radio blathers on, you barely listening.  You scroll through your phone until there are zero notifications, then you scroll through your photo album just for something to look at.  Jisung hums to himself and you try not to get annoyed all over again.  You exploding at something so inconsequential would give him way too much satisfaction.   

The snow comes down harder.  It pulls your attention from your phone to the blustery world outside.  Everything is a harsh grey, the dark night foggily illuminated by the white snow.  Even Jisung is concentrating now, his brow furrowed as he stares through the front window. 

“Shit,” he says. 

He changes stations to catch a road update.  Your jaws drop in unison when the reporter mentions a thirteen hour delay on the main bridge into the city. 

“Thirteen fucking hours?” you say.  It comes out wheezy.  “It’s winter!  Why are they always so surprised by the fucking snow!  God!  What the hell are we gonna do?”

“We’re not going anywhere near the bridge, that’s what we’re gonna do,” Jisung says, flipping the car into reverse and immediately changing course. 

“How else are we getting downtown?” 

He looks at you like you’re so stupid that he can’t believe it, his eyebrows jumping up his face. 

“Uh, hello, welcome back to town, it’s snowing here,” Jisung says.  “We’re going downtown tomorrow when it won’t kill us or trap us in a car—”

“I want to go home—”

“Do you want to spend thirteen hours in a car with me?”  Jisung asks.  “Because that’s what going home will involve right now, k?”

He sounds terse.  You feel a little better when he acts short with you too, more justified in your own rudeness. 

“Fine,” you say.  “What are we doing then?”   

A ten minute trip turns into an hour long drive with traffic delays, but eventually you are rolling into the snow-covered parking lot of the only motel with a vacancy sign.  You and Jisung do not speak, stepping out of the car and crunching along the snow in silence.  The motel parking lot is washed a golden colour, the yellow balcony lights beaming over the white snow.   It holds the promise of warmth.   You hurry inside. 

You shake yourself off in the tiny entryway while Jisung dings the desk bell.  Someone appears to check you in. 

“You’re a lucky couple,” she says.  “Lots of folks have stopped because of the weather.  We have exactly one room left available.  It’s a nice cozy double bed.  Sounds good?”  

“Ummm…”  You join Jisung at the desk, a million frantic thoughts running through your brain.  “Hold on, we’re not—”

“Did you hear that, baby?” Jisung says with exaggerated fondness, because he can’t help but taunt you.  “We’re a lucky couple.  Isn’t that just our luck the only room available has one bed?” 

You step on his foot deliberately and he yelps. 

“Is there really no other option?” you ask the attendant with some degree of desperation. 

“No, sorry.”  She gives you a funny look but shakes her head.  “I doubt you’ll have better luck finding a room anywhere else tonight.  You can have this one or enjoy a car nap.” 

“My beautiful wife and I are happy with a double,” Jisung says, already holding out his credit card.  “Right, baby?” 

You smack his ass, hard and swift.  His eyes widen.   You smirk.

“Right, baby,” you say with a snarl. 

-

Tonight’s only saving grace is the hot water; you enjoy a long shower before changing into sleep shorts and a camisole.   You join Jisung in the room, finding him sprawled on the double bed with air pods in his ears.  He tossed his hat somewhere and is laying there in jeans and a t-shirt – remarkable, as you thought he might strip to his underwear just to be annoying.  But no, he lays there peacefully.  His fair hair is darker at the root, neatly framing his unfortunately handsome face.  He has one arm flexed under his head, the muscle more pronounced than you remember it being.  His eyes are closed as he nods along to the music. 

You grab a pillow and thwack him in the gut.  It startles him to attention, a strangled sound leaving his throat. 

“You stay on that side of the bed and you do not move, got it?” you say. 

He sticks his tongue out at you.   

“Very mature,” you say. 

You lay down with your back to him.  After twenty minutes, he still has his bedside light on so you snap at him.  He whines like a little baby but turns it off, leaving just his phone beaming at his face.  You can hear his music but say nothing. 

You can’t sleep.  You want to roll over but you absolutely refuse to face him. 

His phone screen finally goes dark after god knows how long and he puts it aside.  There is a long stretch of silence in the dark.  You swear you have never been so uncomfortable laying on this side in all your life.  Knowing you will not be able to sleep without turning at least once, you decide to roll over.  You figure Jisung laid down with his back to you anyway.

He didn’t.  He is staring right at you, his big eyes making him look like a pathetic little lemur gawping at a human in the dark. 

“Why don’t you like me?” Jisung says.

“Oh no,” you say, immediately rolling onto your back.  “Absolutely not.  We are not having a heart to heart.”

“Oh come oooon, please,” he whines.  “This is the time and place—”

“It really isn’t—”

“It’s a classic story, a boy, and a girl—”

“I don’t like stories—”

“Forced to share a bed and share their secret feelings—”

“Those feelings are disgust, hatred, and revulsion—”

“Opening their hearts and—whoa, wait, what?  Hatred?  You hate me?”  Jisung pushes himself up on one elbow, staring down at you with a completely horrified look on his face. 

You try to ignore him and his stupid expressions, glaring at the ceiling as if it can do anything to save you.   Your heart is beating fast but it doesn’t feel good.  The pounding is coupled with a nauseous turn in your gut.

It is open knowledge that you do not like Han Jisung one bit, but you seldom vocalize it so explicitly.  Certainly not to his face.  Certainly not beside him in bed. 

“That can’t possibly surprise you,” you say.

“Well, it does actually!”  Jisung says.  “I knew you didn’t like me but hate me?  How could you hate me?  I’m delightful.” 

Even now, the clown is trying to joke.  Because that’s all it is to him, isn’t it?  Everything is just a joke all the time.  Everything and everyone is a punchline waiting to happen.  But you aren’t laughing.  Your hands close into fists and you dig your nails into your palms to keep your frustration in check.  Your neck feels hot and your stomach is still turning.  You feel embarrassed about things you haven’t even said yet.  Your tongue feels swollen somehow, your throat lined thickly.  It takes several deep breaths before you can speak.

“Well,” you say bitterly, “I guess I just can’t help being a massive bitch.  The worst you’ve ever met, right?” 

There is a beat of silence, then Jisung flips on the bedside light.

You slap your fists down on the bedcovers and glare at him.

“Turn off the light,” you say. 

“No way, you were just talking in a voice.  What did you mean? Why do you--”

“Jisung, I swear to god, if you don’t turn off that light—”

“Look, can we just—”

You shove the covers down and climb on top of him without thinking, trying to reach the light yourself.  He grabs you by the arms and pushes you back.  You end up tussling ungracefully, you wriggling around like a worm and Jisung clearly in control but just as clearly trying to go easy on you.  It puts you at an impasse.  With an angry huff, you push away from him.

“If I said something—” he starts. 

You laugh, a joyless cackle. 

“If,” you repeat.  “You’ve said a lot of somethings over the years, Jisung.” 

“I—I didn’t mean it if I—I don’t even know what I—”

You look at him.  He seems to be genuinely confounded and more than a little miserable, his eyes darting around as he racks his brain, his brow furrowed with obvious upset.  His hand is frozen on his head, a clump of hair feathering through his fingers. 

He meets your gaze and you roll your eyes.  You feel hot and uncomfortable again, the source of your nausea climbing up and up and up until it is clawing its way past your lips and—

“The day we met,” you say, finally, after years of stamping down the humiliating memory, “you said I was a massive bitch, the worst you had ever met.  And it—”

You are not sad.  You refuse to be sad.  This pain is years old now and it does not hurt you anymore.  But you are angry –  with him, with yourself, with this whole shitty circumstance, and the angrier you get, the more tears stab at your eyes. 

You swallow down a lump in your throat and take a steadying breath.  You stare at the wall because his attentive, earnest gaze is too much to bear. 

“I know I’m a little awkward when I first meet people,” you say.  “I’m shy and weird and sometimes… sometimes people think I’m a bitch when really I’m just quiet.  Chan introduced me to you because he said that you were kinda the same, and that we had lots in common, and he thought we would get along.  And then we met and—”

“We did,” Jisung says softly.

Your vision is blurry now.  You sniff hard, wiping your arm under your nose. 

“Yes,” you say.  “We did.  We got along amazing.  We were quiet for a second and then it was like… like we were already friends. As if we always knew each other. I’ve never spoken like that to someone so quickly.  It’s like I just forgot to be shy.   I was so happy and then—”

“I remember all this,” Jisung says, still sounding confused.  “I don’t get it.  It was Changbin’s birthday, right?  We were talking all night and it was great but then you just left without saying bye.  Then the next time we met you already hated me—”

You finally look at him, hitting him with the full force of your emotional expression.  He clearly was not expecting the tears because he literally jumps at the sight of you. 

“I left after overhearing you talk about me in the kitchen to one of your stupid friends,” you snap.  “’That woman is without doubt a totally massive bitch.  The worst I’ve ever met.’  And you were laughing.  Just… just standing there laughing about it, about me.  And I had no idea why.  Why?  What had I said or done?  It was humiliating.  And it hurt, and the reason it hurt so bad was because it came from you.”  You jab him in the chest, trying to sound angry because your tears are falling now and it just makes you feel pathetic.  “It hurt, Jisung,” you say, “because it was you.  From anyone else I wouldn’t care.  But you were the one person I expected to understand me.  The one person who got what it was like.  So to hear you saying those things—god.  I never wanted to see you again, but then you and Chan started your stupid projects together and I couldn’t get away from you.  And you just got more and more in my face no matter what I did—”

“Oh my god.” Jisung slaps both hands to his head.  He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he is hearing.  “Hold on,” he says, abruptly getting out of bed.  “Just… just hold on.” 

He runs away.  You sit there more confused than anything, your face wet, your breathing uneven.  He is gone long enough for you to get angry again, glaring at him when he gets back in the bed.

“Here,” he says, giving you the tissue box he evidently retrieved from the bathroom.  “Just… here.” 

He takes a tissue and awkwardly dabs at your cheek.  You snatch it away from him, frowning. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he says.  He gets off the bed again, hovering awkwardly at the side while you wipe your face clean.   He waits until you are composed, swaying where he stands, clasping and unclasping his hands.  When you stop sniffling, he lets out a huge exhale.  “Okay,” he says.  “Look.  I’m sorry.  I’m… I’m really, really fucking sorry.  And I want to explain, I really do, but… but if I explain, I think it’s only gonna make you upset.”

You give him a very sarcastic look.

“I’m already upset, you stupid jerk,” you say.  “Just spit it out so I can go to sleep.” 

“Right.”  He runs his hand through his hair again.  It falls softly down and flutters when he exhales.  “God.  Okay.  This is gonna sound so stupid.  But, yeah, okay, I do remember saying that actually.  I didn’t know you heard me but… but that’s not an excuse.  I know.  I shouldn’t have said it at all.  I totally do know that.  But also… I said it, but I didn’t.  What I mean is, what you heard me saying, I was not actually saying.”

You stare at him for a long moment. 

“What,” you say, “the fuck?” 

He waves his hands around defensively. 

“What I mean is,” he says, “and stay with me… but… I actually meant it as a compliment.” 

“A compliment,” you say.  “A compliment?  You called me a massive bitch as a compliment?”

“Yes.” 

“Do you seriously expect me to believe that?” you shout, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at him.

His reflexes are fast.  He ducks and the pillow sails over his head, whacking the blinds with a clatter.  He looks there then looks at you, just in time for you to throw the tissue box.  He dodges that too, ducking down again.  The box hits the radiator and thunks to the ground. 

“Okay, listen—” he says.

He is not fast enough when you chuck the second pillow. 

“Okay, okay, I deserved that,” he says, holding the offending pillow up in surrender.  He tentatively approaches the bed with it, eying you as he gently lays it back down.

You glare.

“I promise I can explain,” he says.  “And you’re gonna love this explanation, because it is going to completely and totally humiliate me and you will have something to hold over my head for the rest of your life.”

“I’m listening,” you say.  You feel embarrassed about crying so the least he can do is embarrass himself too. 

“Thank you,” he says.  He gets back on the bed, kneeling and tipping his head back.  It looks like he’s praying, gathering the strength to admit whatever he is about to admit. 

You cross your arms.  You are annoyed he is taking so long and also annoyed that you genuinely want to know.  Han Jisung has no problem blurting every stupid thought that crosses his mind, at least when it comes to you, so you cannot begin to imagine what dark secret he can’t bring himself to speak out loud. 

You are halfway convinced he is trying to come up with a lie when he finally throws his arms out as if in supplication. 

“I’m a fucking freak!” he says, with all the verve and jubilation of hallelujah.  He closes his eyes and nods his head.  “I’m a pervert and I think with my dick like ninety-eight per cent of the time.  The other two per cent of the time I am honestly probably thinking with my prostate, though I haven’t really worked that one out yet completely—”

“What?”  Your whole face screws tight with bewilderment.  “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“I love bitches.  No wait.”  He shakes his head.  “That came out wrong.  Hold on.  I love… well, yeah, no, bitches.  Mean girls.  Bullies.  Catwoman.”

“Catwoman.”

“That whip… t-cha.”

“Jisung—”

“Look I was telling my friend about you because Minho’s an even bigger freak than me.  He’s the only one who knows my secret and—”

“Your secret,” you say slowly. “That you… like bitches?”

“That I love bitches,” he says.  “When I told him that you were the biggest bitch I ever met, it was because we both knew that what I meant was: holy shit dude, I just found my soulmate, she’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, I’m getting married tonight, and if she asked me to tattoo her face on my butt right now I would do it.” 

You hate that you laugh, but the comment is so unexpected that it sputters out of you.

Jisung smiles, releasing a pent-up breath of relief. 

“You were… are… funny, and smart, and yeah a bit quiet but you still don’t let it stop you from defending yourself or someone else when something is wrong.  Remember when you told off that creep at the party?  The one who was bugging Felix?  You don’t take anyone’s shit and then you just move on quietly like it was nothing.  I was obsessed with you from the second we started talking.  Then I was a stupid horny pervert and opened my big stupid mouth and now you hate me.” 

“I’m still not sure I really get it,” you say, admittedly flustered at his admission.  You had no idea Jisung saw you that way.  The woman he’s describing does sound pretty amazing, and he sounds sincerely infatuated.   When your heart starts skipping beats again, it feels different than before.  “Explain,” you say. 

He slaps his thighs in a motion of surrender. 

“Yup,” he says.  “Okay.  Fine.  Cool.  I like when women boss me around.  I like when they are mean to me.  I like when they hurt me and make me cry.   It… it gets my dick hard, okay?  I love bitches.  I LOVE BITCHES—”

You reach out to slap a hand over his mouth, remembering it’s a motel in the middle of the night. 

Jisung’s shoulders jump and he laughs into your hand, clearly embarrassed as he remembers where he is.  You laugh in spite of yourself, lowering your hand. 

“Oops,” he says.

“Oops,” you reply. 

Oops, you misunderstood your eavesdropping. 

Oops, Jisung never hated you. 

Oops, you find yourself staring into his eyes for way too long. 

“So just to clarify,” you say.  “You’re into, like, female domination stuff, and you called me a bitch as the highest form of compliment in your crazy brain, and then you spent the next two years being as annoying as possible because…”

“I thought you were just, like, crazy edging me or something,” Jisung says, making you laugh helplessly into your hands.  He laughs too, even while looking a little pained.  “I did!  I was like shit, she’s so nasty, she’s really taking me for a fucking ride.  I would have kept doing this for the rest of our lives if this conversation didn’t happen.  I would’ve been at your wedding like damn, she’s really got me going this time—”

“You’re so stupid,” you say, pushing at his chest without any real animosity. 

“I know, I really am,” he says.  He draws an X over his chest.  “But cross my heart and hope to die, everything I have told you is the complete truth.  I’d tell you to slap me because you definitely deserve it but honestly, it would give me a boner and I don’t think either of us wants that since we’re stuck in the same bed all night.” 

He says it jokingly, of course.  But you can hear the twinge of flirtation and truth under his just kidding. 

And maybe you’re still on an adrenaline kick.  Maybe your emotions are right at the surface.  Maybe you hated him so much because deep down you liked him, and you hated that you liked him because of a misunderstanding. 

And maybe, just maybe, those big brown eyes have drawn you in from the second you first saw him. 

“Slap you,” you say, as if in deep contemplation.  “Slap you where?  Your face?” 

This clearly catches him off guard.  He opens his mouth and a garbled sound comes out.  He thumps a fist on his chest. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says.  “Sure.  Whatever, you know.  You know.” 

“Mhm.” You move so you are kneeling too, facing each other.  You watch as he swallows hard, the gulp going down his throat.  All the adrenaline you built up earlier is suffusing into the race of your bloodstream.  Heat simmers below the surface of your skin.  “And you like that?  Getting slapped when you’ve been bad?”

“Oh my god,” he says.  “Are you.. are we… is something happening right now?  Oh my god.  Hold on.”  He says that but then all he does is stand up and sit back down again, rekneeling in the exact same position.  “Right, okay,” he says.  “Slap away.”

You snort, rolling your eyes but smiling.  You lift your hand but he is staring at you so expectantly that it just feels weird, not sexy, and you laugh giddily with amusement. 

“Aww, come oooon,” he whines, but laughingly too.  “Don’t get shy.  You were so good at it.”

“I’ve had years of bitchy practice, I guess,” you say with a quirked eyebrow, making him grin.  You shake your head.  “I dunno.  Just.  Do something to earn a slap I guess.  It’s too weird to just smack you out of nowhere.” 

“Do something?” he asks.  “Uh, I dunno.  As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never done anything in my life to earn a slap.  I’m seriously the most charming and funny and perfect guy ever and I—” 

Your slap him across the face.  The sound startles you because it sounds harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.   

Jisung looks genuinely surprised.  His head turned with the impact of the slap, his jaw falling open.  He blinks himself back into focus and you are about to ask if he’s all right, then he looks at you in a way he has never looked at you before.  The desire and desperation of his gaze moves right through you, gathering hot in every intimate place. 

“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice a little gravelly as it drops low. 

“I don’t know,” you say softly.  You reach out to touch his chin, a delicate touch that makes him shiver.  You turn his face to look at the faint redness on his cheek.  “Can I try again to be sure?”

He nods and swallows again. 

You don’t ask for build-up this time.  You pull your hand back and bring it down sharply on his cheek. 

This time it makes him whimper.  It flushes you with heat. 

“Oh my god,” you say.  “What else?” 

“Uh, oh, fuck, um.”  He touches his cheek and sucks in a breath.  He pushes his hair only for it flop back in place.  “Um,” he says.  “Choking.  F-fingers?  Fingers in my mouth...  Um, haha, I can’t think.  Bondage?  Yeah.  Erm, denial.  Overstimulation.  Puuussy… yes, um, pussy.  On my face please.  Uhh… Punishment.  Pulling my hair… Oh, hello.” 

You take hold of his shoulders and push, guiding him to lay on his back.  He is already panting when you straddle him, his eyes wide when you lean down. 

“Do you still hate me?” he asks when you are millimetres away from his mouth.

You pretend to think about it.

“Hm,” you say with obvious theatricality, stealing a page from his book.  “Yeah.  I hate you so much.  You’re my worst enemy.  Sorry, baby.”

“That’s hot,” he says with a nervous little giggle.  “You’re hot.  You know I think—mmmf.”

You interrupt whatever long-winded joke was incoming.  He does not protest this interruption as it involves a kiss, a good kiss, a deep kiss, one that pushes his head into the plushness of his pillow, one that has him moaning into your mouth.   He lifts his hands to touch you, fingertips barely grazing your bare thighs when you seize his wrists.  You shove them into the bed, pinned on either side of his head.  He bucks under you, his mouth opening under your kiss.  You bite at his bottom lip and drag your teeth, making his hips move even more. 

You break away quickly and just as quickly slap him.  It knocks a surprised breath out of him, his eyes a bit watery when he looks up at you. 

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby,” you say.  “I’m just getting started.”

“Oh my god.” 

You try not to smile but Jisung makes it hard.  You feel flushed with excitement, hot with power and anticipation.  You squeeze his hips between your thighs and push the hem of his shirt up and over his chest.   He whimpers again but doesn’t move, his eyes closing when you hold down his wrists and duck your head. 

“Fuck, oh god,” he murmurs, a constant stream of mumbled expletives as your mouth runs over his chest, kissing and licking and biting, teasing him until he can’t help but buck his hips for friction.   When you feel him fully hard in his jeans you lean back, smirk, then climb off him.  “Oh god, you’re too good at this,” he says, keeping his hands where you left them and gazing at you with wanting eyes. 

You blow him a kiss and shimmy out of your shorts and underwear.  Thoughtlessly he swings a hand down to touch himself, squeezing his dick through his jeans and groaning. 

“Did I tell you that you could—” you start, but he puts his hand back beside his head before you can finish.  His smile is far too innocent.  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” you say. 

“Am I?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Shut up,” you reply, getting back on top of him.  “I still hate you.” 

“Oh god, yes,” he says.  His hips buck into the air as you scoot over his chest.  “More.” 

“I hate you,” you say, moving until your legs are on either side of his head.  “ I hate you so much, Han Jisung.  I’m going to ruin you.” 

“Fuck.” 

He already has his mouth open when you lower onto his face.  You grip the headboard and rock yourself over his tongue, back and forth until he finds your rhythm and takes over.  What he lacks in precision he compensates with eagerness, licking at you without any care for the mess it makes of him, wet and sloppy and hot as his tongue moves inside you then up and down your pussy, circling your clit, sucking, flicking, back and forth, around and around—

“Oh my god,” you say, looking down at where you can see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he works, as he moans, as he squeezes your thighs in his hands and drags his tongue all over you.   You grip the headboard tight when you come, throwing your head back and grinding down against him. 

You lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.   You shuffle back and sit on his abdomen so you can see him, his eyes wide and wet mouth open as he pants.  He licks his lips and murmurs please, please, please in a hoarse voice. 

“Please?” you repeat, a little out of breath as well. 

You swirl your fingers over his bare chest and fiddle with the t-shirt still bunched under his chin.  He moves his face wherever you push it, tipping his head back, tilting it to the side.  He goes cross-eyed when your fingers dance in front of him, touching his lips.  His mouth falls open and his eyes close when you slide two fingers inside his mouth.  

“Please what, Jisung?” you ask, slowly finger-fucking his mouth.  “What do you want?”

He can’t speak around your fingers so he just whines, digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs. 

“Oh,” you say.  Your giggle is filled with genuine delight, even while your voice is rough.  “I see.  You want to put your dick inside me, baby?  Hmm?  You wanna say you’re sorry and that you’ll be good and let me ride you?” 

“Good, so good,” he says, drooling around your fingers when you slide them out.   He swallows hard, choking on nothing, then nods his head.  “Please, please.   Yes.” 

You lean down and kiss his wet mouth, a chaste peck.  You rub the corner of his lips, smiling at his closed eyes and wrecked expression. 

“Okay,” you say.  “Get ready for me then.”  

You have a string of condoms in your luggage, always tucked in the pocket in case of emergency.  Emergencies like a snow storm trapping you in bed with your former worst enemy turned lover. 

When you get back to him, Jisung is laying there completely naked, flushed and stroking himself as he watches you.   He lets you take his hand off his dick, holds you obediently when you guide his hands to your waist.   He kisses you when you lean down, a hot and heavy kiss as you straddle him again.   It ends when you push him flat and sit back, already grinning because you know you are about to short-circuit his brain.

“Wanna see a trick?” you say, and proceed to put the condom on him with your mouth.   You laugh when you see his face after, his mouth hanging open as he blinks at you. 

“You’re gonna kill me,” he says, but laughs a little. 

His head thunks back into the pillows when you guide him inside you.   You put your hands over his, holding them to your hips as you rock over him.   His chest lifts and falls and his eyes close as he concentrates on not rushing your pace.  He keeps holding your waist firmly when you slide your hands over his chest. 

“Look at me,” you say. 

He blinks his eyes open.  You smile.

“Good boy.” 

He makes a noise that sounds more pained than when you slapped him.  It lights up inside you like fire and you move faster, take him deeper.   You get a bit dizzy with how good it feels, his dick curving up to drive against the softest, most sensitive part of you, sending you hurtling towards another orgasm.  You rub yourself at the same time, looking down at him as he gasps and moans, as he holds your hips and fucks you back. 

You bring your hand to his neck and gently circle it, rubbing yourself harder when he whines with chest-deep desperation. 

“I—I’m gonna—oh god—” he says, squeezing your hips so tightly that you think it might bruise.  

It feels so good, his rough hands coupled with his dick hitting perfectly inside you.  Your whole body draws taut for its crest.   

“Don’t,” you say, laughing a little, not even to be mean but because it feels so good that you feel giddy.  You squeeze his throat and his hips get erratic under you.  “Not yet,” you say.  “Me first.”

“Oh my god,” he says, looking up at you with frantic eyes.  “I—I can’t—I’m gonna—”

“Jisung,” you say, squeezing his throat harder so he makes a choked-up sound that goes straight to your pussy.  “Are you gonna be good or bad?” 

“I’m—I’m—oh god.”

You stop touching yourself because you know he doesn’t stand a chance outlasting you.  You ride him through his orgasm, choking him as he spasms and moans and cries out.   His head lifts for a second, his eyes closed and brows furrowed, then he flops back down with an exhausted heave.  

His eyes open again, watery and huge. 

“Oh fuck,” he says, voice like gravel as you release his throat.  A deep breath shudders out of him.  “Oh… fuck,” he says, dreamily, smiling, then pouting.  “Oh! Fuck!” 

You giggle at him managing to say the same thing in three different voices. 

You slip your fingers into his hair and tug, yanking his head up.  He follows with a gasp. 

“I should hit you again for that,” you say. 

You slide off him, carefully.  He sucks in a ragged, tearful breath when you touch his dick to deal with the condom.  After, you rub your palm on the oversensitive head of it, making him grab at you and cry out.   It squeezes a tear out of him and you kiss it away. 

“Come on,” you say, grabbing him by the hair again.  You get off the bed and drag him to follow.  “I’m not done with you.” 

He is a little shaky and boneless from coming.  His footing is unsteady from the moment he touches the ground, moving with thoughtless obedience.  He thumps down heavily onto his knees.  When he sways, you straighten him.  He blinks up at you, on his knees, already nodding. 

You put your leg over his shoulder and draw him in.  For the second time, he gets you off with his mouth, his hands on your ass and his face buried in your pussy.  You sink your fingers in his hair and let it wash over you, humming happily when you are finished. 

You lower your leg off his shoulder.  Jisung slumps backwards, leaning against the bed and breathing hard, his face and hair a mess. 

“Wow,” he says.  He looks up at you.  “That was the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You laugh, feeling hot and flushed but satisfied.  

“Me too,” you say, making him smile. 

You help him back into the bed because his legs seem a little numb.  You lay beside him, rubbing the inside of his thigh as he kisses all over your face.   You giggle then fall into a proper kiss, winding around each other affectionately.  

“I’m gonna send Chan a gift basket,” Jisung says, making you snort.  “I am!  Thank you for having a family emergency, your timing couldn’t be better.”

You tip your head and look at him with confusion.

“Family emergency?” you say.  “He told me he was working?”

“Working?”  Jisung furrows his brow.  “Huh?  We don’t have anything coming up at work.  He phoned me from the road and said he was heading out to visit family?  He said he wouldn’t be back all week-end.” 

“He told me he was stuck working and would see me tomorrow,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you slowly put two-and-two and together.  

“I didn’t even know why he was asking me and not Changbin or something,” Jisung continues to muse aloud.  “He said you were wanting to talk to me, though, so I figured—”

“I never said that!  I mean, I’m glad we did but…”  You sit up, glaring at the wall.

Jisung bursts into laughter, covering his mouth as he looks at you. 

“Did Chan hustle us?” he asks. 

“He threw us together in a snow storm so we’d be forced to reconcile!”

“I don’t think Chan can control the weather—”

“Oh, he definitely can.  I bet he delayed the bridge himself—”

Jisung laughs some more, kissing the side of your face lovingly while you continue to glare contemptuously at the wall. 

“Well,” you say, looking at him.  You kiss him sweetly on the nose and he smiles at you.  “That’s fine,” you say.  “A vacancy for my sworn enemy just opened up.  Looks like I found a replacement.” 

“I’m good with that,” Jisung says.  “But… you’re not allowed to enemy-fuck him like that.  That’s just for me, right?” 

You settle in his arms, forgetting about Chan for the time being, forgetting to glare, forgetting about everything that happened before tonight.  You smile at him, brushing a bit of hair off his sweaty forehead.  He is still flushed and beautiful, his hopeful eyes locked on yours.  He smiles back. 

“Yeah,” you say.  “It’s only ever been just you, Jisung.” 

He visibly melts, his laugh a breathless thing.  He leans in and kisses you and you hold his face, kissing him back.  You can feel him smiling against your lips and you smile too. 

[hotchfiles]

passenger seat.

pairing: seth cohen x fem!reader.

summary: you try so hard to help your best friend seth recover from his broken heart you forget about yours

content warnings: underage drinking, mentions of sex and drunk sex. the timeline is like... beginning of season 2, when seth comes back and finds out summer is dating zach. yes i'm gonna work on a part 2 i'm not that mean.

word count: 1,8k

      Summer Summer Summer Summer, it's honestly annoying how Seth can not seem to be able to talk about anything else anymore. And sure it has been like that since you were children, but since he was able to catch a glimpse of what dating her would be like and then lost it, well, he was down right impossible to be around.

      "Cohen, you're getting out of this bed right now, and you're getting some good music in your brain." You pull the cozy blankets from him with full strength while he tried to fight for it.

      "First of all, my brain is always full of good music. And second of all, My Summer is gone, my sun, all I have right now is the cold of winter and the solitude of being single, leave me in the warmth of my bed, please."

      You rolled your eyes and actually felt like you could reach enough to see your brain, his antics were usually amusing but Summer Summer Summer, you almost felt like warming up his face with a punch, but instead you took a deep breath, let go of the blankets and got closer to him, taking advantage of the element of surprise and pushing him out of his bed.

      "I have concert tickets, whiny baby, and Suuummeeer won't get back to you ever if you look that lame." That sparks his interest, you can see, and you're left to pretend it doesn't sting just a tiny bit, what matters is that he gets up and gathers some nice clothes before heading to his shower.

      "You're mean today, stop hanging out with Ryan," he yells from a distance, probably hoping it won't give you enough time for a snarky comeback. Obviously, he was wrong about that assumption, you both grew up together, you could almost predict what he would say already, you were always with a reply on the back of your mind.

      "We're taking turns so you stop being an ugly crying whiny mess."

      "Oh... That's why we took a cab."

      You stare back at him hoping he won't open his big mouth as the bartender serves the several, several shots of tequila you ordered using the not so good fake I.D you handed him. Although Orange County wasn't the best at keeping minors away from alcohol (beachy city full of rich kids) you still didn't want your plans to be ruined at the very beginning of the night.

      "Seth, I'm getting you hammered so you feel better for a night, and I don't hate you for a night." He seems concerned for a second, but knows you well enough not to argue, just as much as he can be annoying with his longass monologues, so can you, and you're not afraid to use violence if needed, misogyny needs to come in handy somehow, and not having your best friend fight you back has got to be it.

      You slide his half of the shots towards him and start quickly gulping yours, only half way in reality sets that maybe, maybe, that was not your best idea. But by then Seth was also doing his own shots and laughing as the tequila burnt his throat, his nose and lips twisting around each time.

      You hear screams and realize the band is probably beginning the set, so you get your beer and give one to Seth, and he makes a comment about how you weren't kidding about getting him hammered, but you almost can't hear him as you pull him by the shirt running so you both can get a reasonably good spot.

      Cohen was a Death Cab for Cutie fan, you knew it, everyone knew it, and if there were any concerts, meetings, or if you had their addressees, you would've chosen them for tonight, but Coldplay was all you could get last minute to get your curly haired boy out of his fortress of solitude at least for one night.

      You both enjoyed some indie rock music so the concert was fun from the start, especially with the alcohol that went straight to your brain as company to the songs that made your body move ever so slightly. Seth obviously didn't dance, he made it quite the point not to, "this is music to enjoy, not to dance, don't disgrace us like that," he says in between laughter and hiccups, giving his beer a tiny sip only because honestly he can not stand the smell of alcohol anymore.

      "Stop being such a looooser, dance with me!"

      You took the bottle from his hand and threw it along with yours on the nearest bin, leading his hands to your waist. This isn't weird. You don't think it's weird, but weirdly, Seth doesn't think it's weird either.

      You're more than thirty minutes into the concert and it's not a slow song at all, Don't Panic roars from the stage and from the audience, you both try to keep up to the rhythm, guiding him to twirl you around and showing him a two step easy peasy dance to follow.

      Seth almost falls down, you both laugh uncontrollably, he's way too drunk for this, you're way too drunk for this, his hands go back comfortably to your waist, as if it was a rooted reaction already, you felt your stomach turn as the music notes changed and you knew what song was coming.

      You looked up and Seth was already looking at you, his beautiful brown eyes staring at yours like he had just discovered something new.

      He wanted to kiss you, he really did, was that weird? Was that bad? Maybe he was too much in his head, and maybe he was too drunk, but he was single and you looked at him like that and you were oh so beautiful and trying so hard to make him smile and maybe he shouldn't because he was still hooked on Summer—but was he really? The more he looks at you, and the more you don't look away, the more he thinks that maybe this is just how things are supposed to be.

      And he didn't even notice what song was playing, too busy paying attention to your breathing, only when your drunken self decided that for some reason this was the time to confess, if anything, you could just play it off as if you were just singing along to Shiver "you know how much I need you, but you never even see me," and before you can hide your eyes and glue them to your feet, Seth pulls you by your neck for a sloppy drunken kiss, your hands grab his shirt but you waste no time and kiss him back.

      Both of you couldn't even wait for the concert to end, leaving and getting into the nearest cab you could find as soon as you can let go of each other for air. His address at the tip of your tongue not mattering how drunk you were.

      You get into the mansion tripping around as you try to kiss each other, not make a sound that could wake his parents, and also find his room, and when you do you almost fall on your ass due to his goddamn skateboard being right in front of his bed, you end up laughing out loud, but Seth closes the door before anyone can hear it.

      "I'm starting to think your parents won't like me sleeping over."

      Guilt starts creeping in and you're not even sure why, like you're doing something bad, something that won't be approved of, your best friend looks at you with a warm gentle smile, pulling you to him by your hand and having you sit on his lap as he's on the edge of his bed, both of your legs on each of his sides, your arms go to his neck.

      "My parents love you, they probably love you more than they love me. Ryan loves you more than he loves me." An overreaction, that's what that is, and you know it, very dramatic that boy, but it gets you giggling and you lean in for a tender, long kiss. but a question pops your mind and you stop it, you're not sure if it's the time to ask it, you might be ruining your only chance to have Seth.

      But you have to.

      "I know that. The real question is... Do you?" Your teeth nervously gnaw on your bottom lip, and Seth knows he loves you, he would never hesitate on that, so it's easy for him to get you close and touch your forehead with his, even if he doesn't know right now if it's the love you're looking for, he knows right now he wants to be with you, so it must be right.

      "Of course, Dumbo."

      You roll your eyes and push him till his back hits his bed, continuing what you two had started and leaving sloppy kisses to his neck as your hands found themselves under his shirt, your hips purposely taking advantage of your position and grinding slowly down his crotch, you imagined it would be easy to get Seth moaning but you didn't think it would be that easy. You loved it.

      You were both horny drunk teens, it took minutes for your clothes to be on the ground and for Seth to be inside of you, your legs surrounding his waist and your fingers pulling on his hair. And it isn't weird, it's familiar, it's hot, it's sensual without the need to pretend to be anything else. It's the best you've ever had simply by how connected you feel to Seth.

      You sleep into his arms, feeling his scent and you're afraid this is a dream you're soon to wake up from.

      You do panic when you wake up at 5A.M, not feeling like facing the rest of the Cohens after what you did to their precious son, Seth was still sleeping like a beautiful baby and you wouldn't wake him up, you hoped he wouldn't be mad at you for leaving without saying goodbye, but you brush your lips against his before sneaking out and you feel like the world is about three times brighter.

      That is, until 8A.M. you took a nap in your own bed to at least pretend you were home during the night, and woke up to Seth's texts after he woke up.

cohen: i rmbr coldplay cohen: i rmbr tequila cohen: nd i rmbr laughing a lot cohen: so even tho i might die of a hangover, thx cohen: might txt summer yellow lyrics dont stop me

      The lightweight bastard had forgotten everything, everything that made your night special. And went right back to Summer talking, maybe you should've just punched him the first time you thought about it.

[plasticfangtastic]

Dairy Girl-- Part 2

A Homelander x F! Reader fanfic

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post this and hope the lenght is enough of an apology, yeah this is gonna be liek 4 parts i got too engrossed btw. hope yall like it here's the previous chapter:

Synopsis: In order to provide a constant supply of fresh breastmilk for Vought’s number one hero, Vought has had to get quite nifty in order to prevent this secret desire out the press and the public– you have unfortunately discovered the truth.

Tags: Stockholm Syndrome, abusive dynamic, Homelander being Homelander, dub-con, dark, mild smut, breastfeeding kink, kidnapping, child-death mention tw, cheating tw, set in s4 but canon nothing, slow burn.

word count: 3.4K

Part 2– Calf

As he’d mentioned before the house was an escape proof cage– every window had its hinges super glued or welded shut, glass panels thick enough to prevent shattering but thin enough to allow sound in. That night as he’d left you for the first time you kept your composure, perturbed more by the earlier events that nothing had time to sink in, you venture across the 3 bedroom home, each room old taken straight out from a vintage furniture catalog, the master bedroom smelled just like your grandmother’s, the bathroom walls covered in tacky pink tiles that you told yourself will never get used to.

By the time you explored the whole building you understood the following: The size felt deceiving, without a way to see the outside this building could’ve been 35 floors high and you wouldn’t know, the east-wing of the building at the opposite direction where you’d emerged was cut off from you by a thick metal door, an eye-scan request made its unpickable lock, looking at how it cut on the hardwood floors you’d guess this is where in the kitchen and perhaps the garage and entry hall could be found, this overall felt like an architectural nightmare, the only other oddity of this was the piles and piles of bottled water– Vought branded water… you much rather drink Dasani than this crap… It was by far the worst one in the supermarket.

There were indeed no phones or even ethernet ports on the wall, the TV was bolted in its place and so was the VHS player (and all the furniture too), there were at least 350 titles on the walls (something you bothered to count on day 5), an extremely old vinyl player your only other company... whoever had supposedly lived here was a big fan of Cab Calloway, ABBA and Bruce Springsteen, here you and Bruce could become intimate friends it seems after all you had all his vinyls, alongside an expansive jazz assortment, nothing in this selection went past 1989.

You also learned a very useful fact on day 3 you stared at one of the 18 cameras that you’d found.

“I really want some Mcnuggets! Like just a 12-pack and a large Sprite! Maybe an Oreo Mcflurry too!” You yelled into the camera waving your arms as if the circular lense would reply somehow.

Barely few minutes later the air was filled with the roaring sounds of a bike burning tires seemed the forbidden end faced some road which made you giddy, about 50 minutes later a small door at the door itself opened smoothly where the first strange hand you’ve seen in the last 3 days popped-out leaving a bag with a familiar logo… it wasn’t maccas tho, it was Vought-a-burger which was okay but that wasn’t the point, you picked your meal and your oversize ice-cream and drink and begun connecting lines– Your prison was in Pennsylvania, based on the area code on the phone number on that old pizza box, located close enough from both a pizza chain and on a 15 to 20 minutes drive from a Vought-a-Burger, the library held no maps for you to try to find your location but give or take about an hour or two by foot from any civilization… Yet as you drank the mostly melted caramel churro sundae you smiled thinking of how to steal a bike.

That Night you picked two tapes from the wall not caring one bit about what you were going to see, you stared at the camera.

“Hey can one of you check like an underrated 80s movie list from IMDb ‘cuz I seen a few of these already… at least bring me something new!” 

As always no response was ever given, you dragged your feet towards that ornate bedroom of yours, pink walls, flowery quits, a matching chaise lounge, a hardwood coffee table bolted to the ground and your private TV and VHS player, it took you an hour to remember how to use these thing that second day here. You put on a movie, curling in your bed in the dark, smelling the sweet flowery smell of fabric softener, this didn’t smell like home, pillows too soft, mattress too soft everything here was made to bring you comfort but it was making you feel like a squatter.

The cold light of the screen enveloped every surface and you slowly faded away as ‘Lady in White’ began to wrap up, eyes glued to the screen so firmly you screamed when the faint red light peeked from the corner, clutching the quilt across your body as the red faded away and all you saw was a vaguely illuminated shape.

Blurry colors with no clean shapes, standing facelessly enough blue to let you see it was humanoid, Homelander creeped closer, his body blocking the light and like a shadow he devours everything, he turned around to pause the player, draping his gloves on the dumb box as he turned around once more, your heart caught in your throat, each breath quick and sharp as he took another step closer, hushing softly and he’s there swallowing you whole he kneeled into the bed the mattress squeaked and chimed sinking under his weight pulling you in, only the faint outline of gold eagles and soft blonde locks told you with absolute certainty that he was here… that 3 days ago you indeed met The Homelander, far from the pretty blue-eyed hunk from the movies more ghoul.

You swallowed as his head rested on the pillow next to your hips, his nose burying in the cushioned pillowcase.

“I was busy with work” He mumbles softly, staring at you with the same playfulness of a guilty pet owner who’d ran out of their cat's churu treats– "I promise to visit, I got you something… left it downstairs for you.” 

He stared at your white knuckled hands and without uttering a word you understood his demands, fingers moved by psychic force alone, you welcomed him into your lap as you came undone, burying your digits into his hair, soft like cotton, so smooth you dreamt of cat’s bellies as you scratched him, he took the remote from under you lifting you with so much ease your brain struggled to compute it at first, the movie played and all he wanted was petting.

“Security told me you’ve been good… nothing crazy… am glad, "he said with a tired tone.

“What good would that do me…?” You replied with your eyes focused on the screen.

If you wanted to survive I had to get on his good side, no? you though

“I like it when you people understand your place” He chuckles softly.

‘You people’? You could easily discern the meaning behind his words by tone alone, your finger stopped suddenly, his eyes flaring up immediately.

“I think this would be more productive if you told me exactly what’s going on… I won’t try to run or scream… am just confused and scared…” you spoke bluntly as his gaze met yours in the dark.

“This is my private speakeasy and you’re the bartender… tap too… is hard being on top… and I want some relief… and a sanctum–

“To express your socially unacceptable inclinations/interests? Fair enough I can imagine the press would eat you alive if they found out you liked breastmilk.”

“You’re cute and smart too.” He pushed himself into your stomach, your body sinking to the shape he wanted, holding you tight– I’ll be a good owner and let you asks me absolutely anything you want”

“Why me?”

“Dunno.” His lips tightened into a flat line– the doctors picked you, I asked for a good provider… but all the women downstairs and you did have one thing in common” He sounded awkward as he spoke listening to your increasing heartbeat– you kept producing… I asked to have easy access to my treat but somebody downstairs came out with all of this” his hand lazily gestures around– bit extra I know.”

How simple, he didn’t even care about this to begin with, glaring at him gave you no answers or comfort.

“My family…?”

“They think you killed yourself, I've been told… your ex-hubby been on twitter acting holier than the virgin mary, absolutely devastated for likes” You bit your lips, face scrunching up ready to shout and cry– everybody suspects he murdered you even the cops”

“I'm going to kill him!!” Your tears flowed regardless – god fucking dammit!”

Your whole body rejected the news, twisting your stomach and filling you with needles

“How would you do it?”

“Bash his head in with a hammer…?? I don’t know but fuck him! I wasted 5 years of my life with that bastard!” You cried.

Homelander buried his face into your stomach, hiding the smile on his face. as you cursed outloud for a little bit, he paid no attention to your words.

“Sorry…” You cleaned your tears trying to stop this embarrassing display, the mere thought of him acting like he cared made you sick when he wouldn’t even come to his own son’s funeral– are you gonna hurt me?” you cleaned your nose against the pillow.

He moved so quickly before you knew it he’s face to face and even in this dark room only lit by rolling credits he appeared serene as a painting… It makes your blood run cold.

“Why would I hurt my comforter?”

That night he only slept for a couple hours, never moving from your stomach, holding you regardless, he snored softly, mumbling half-spoken words, lips twitching and brows furrowing, you petted him gently watching his hardened frown melt.

Some days he’d come once, others he’d come five times and then there were the days were you didn’t see him at all, leaving you awkwardly aware about how odd these exchanges felt… for it never felt truly sexual, your fears of molestation and ‘real’ assault dissuaded as you accepted that all this man was doing was come here to whine and bitch about work and suck on your titty– like right now, Homelander has been shouting, talkign so much shit about his coworkers you started to wonder if it was made up for nobody could certainly be that allegedly incompetent, about how stressful it was to do 20 plus media interviews all day, about hoq\w his latest film “Justice Serve” was a fucking nightmare already despite being only half-way thru pre-production.

“Do you even know what it's like to deal with idiots who think they’re better than you because they have an award!?” He put your nipple back in his mouth with a frown– who does Villeneuve think he is” He mumbled into your skin.

Yet he didn’t only bring petty grievances and thirsty lips– he showered you with gifts, perfumes you couldn’t pronounce filled with soft fragrances: sweet but not sugary, warm tones without too much spice. Brought you beauty products to pamper you… to watch you play with from the many cameras in the house, and dressed you like a doll in clothes you honestly wouldn't have bought in the first place, too flowery and tradwifey.

You did so with a fake smile, you’d be pretty for him if you must, keep your tongue in-check and swallow the ever increasing knot in your throat for he at least wasn’t loud towards you, he didn’t yell, he didn’t make scenes… you were just living like his newest pet.

His miniature cow standing in the living room instead of the evergreen pastures outside, VHS tapes and steel food trays made your fence.

You keep busy cleaning this house making stories of who had lived there, Bruce the only one who spoke to you.

Analysing the house inch by inch, there had to have been a spot they’ve missed you kept thinking, you figured that somehow they monitored your sleep cycle, only entering to remove dirty clothes and trash in the death of night, they knew if you were obviously awake, on day 14 you stayed up till around 5 am and not a peep was heard accross the house but as you woke past noon all your trash had been cleaned up, on day 16 you stayed awake all day felt sick passed out and same thing, you would find a way out, you would force them to take you out, all the furniture was glued in its post but if you had to cause a fire you fucking would… as you stared at your clean bedsheets you figure you could force them to come in and drag you outside but as you postulated the possibility of a faux-suicide attempt Homelander’s face flashed accross closed eyes– dare dissapointing him and lose all the goodwill you’d been building, trust, even presents more extravagant than anything your ex ever did.

Had he not kidnapped you, hold you against your will in an underground bunker, used you as a milk fountain and terrified the fuck out of you with his invisible steps in the middle of the night you would had found him charming… endearing even… at least he was still handsome… frightening but handsome.

Day 18-19-20 were the worse so far, days went by and your isolation only grew he had not come by, your meals delivered so quietly you missed them and found them cold, birds either too loud or gone but Homelander never came, every hour the anxiety only grew as you found your throat aching to speak with somebody other than a non-present 80s musician.

You made a stack of the movies you’ve seen yelling to the camera demanding more to watch, abandoning the cause to focus on the obscene collection of Danielle Steel books in the library… at least 30 books, at least it was a distraction as you woke up for the third day in a row without hearing from Homelander. 

You talked to yourself, prettier views didn’t make up for human interaction, you had isolated yourselves before… you didn’t eat, shower, answer calls, simply left yourself to rot in your bed, sinking deeper and deeper into your mattress, the calm heartbeat of the machine keeping you alive until the phone battery died, now here you were curling in the couch feeling that endless void inside you screaming back at you, nothing to distract you from it any longer.

How ironic that those days locked in the basement had been the firsts since the funeral that you’d hadn’t thought about it.

Now every sleep came with dreams of distant cries, empty halls that cooed back, and a sense of urgency as time slipped from underneath you, nothing here smelled like him, yet in your sleep you held your pillow as you once held him, swearing it smelled like him, in the silence the singing birds sound like babies, but there’s nothing but creaking floorboards, old pipes and foreign ghosts in this place.

In this endless silence your mind told you this was limbo, jazz solos disguised the pandemonium of a silent afterlife, but as your heart anguished once again you buried yourself in paltry distractions, reading out loud as to keep your vocal chords warm and delude yourself that there was some company in here, mostly to hide the nonexistent crying.

It took you by surprise when half way thru ‘The Ghost’ you heard the buzzing of the steel door, your ears perked up stretching your neck before falling into the floor, shaky knees picked you up once more with a brave kick, quick steeping into the living room– Homelander stood staring at the messy pile talking to the camera to have this sorted and for the first time since you’d been here you sawn another human, who answered his call almost immediately, a man in kevlar rushed in his gun bouncing on his back alongside a young man dragging an ikea bag.

“Homelander!” Your voice was hoarse but he still turned to smile at you.

“We got you some new movies Ms. L/N” The young man spoke dropping the bag with a heavy thud.

“Watch it!” Homelander growled and you saw a slight stain dribble down his pants– just go wait in the library kitten while these ones sort this out for you.” 

Your feet moved anyways, too excited by the presence of new faces, had he not cleared his throat you would’ve said anything just to make sure this wasn’t a dream, you looked away and that big steel door was wide open, an armed guard by the exit tho… it was an office, painted white with cool fluorescent lights. 

Run, the voices scream.

Run.

For fucks sake run!!\

but...

You stay still.

It’s a test. Run and die, run and he’d snap your spine in thirds before you understand what happened your brain would be separated from your cranium no doubt, you swallow and take a step back, slow heavy agonizing steps lead you to the library.

Homelander’s gaze softens as he watches you sit by the unlit fireplace, he follows you soon after leaving the staff to work behind, you lift your head with a stiff neck, your tongue swollen inside your mouth, he smiles gently dropping to your level, carrying a small box.

The pretty bow doesn’t catch your attention in the least.

Not that dashing smile and ever so blue eyes either.

He tickles your nose without touching.

Chamomile and oat, a pale scent, subtle and clean…

As he scoot closer to you urging you to take the meaningless box held by nude hands, he pets your chin, leaving you to catch nutty tones… his hands smell of almond oil and cream.

He’s talking as he guides your hand into opening the present but you aren’t hearing a single word spoken… all you care about is his aroma…it invides you carving an aching hollow chest, making you dizzy and the world is squeezing your whole body with a thousands of pounds of violent force but you’re still held in one piece, wrapping your neck with the necklace he’d got you, touching every exposed inch leaving traces of sweet almond on you, resting his chin on your stiff shoulder so close whispering sweet nothings to you… hair smells so creamy… milky coconut, it makes you ill– You could name every brand he wore if asked.

“You like it?” He asks into your neck.

‘Like’ what? You guessed he meant the necklace.

“Where have you been?” You asked, wanting to think of anything but that bitter scent.

He pushes you down into the carpet, your hair drapes everywhere so he moves it to give himself no chance to pull it, you can’t even argue but your surprise and discomfort still paints your face, before you can say anything he drops his head on your stomach, nuzzling your dress and pulling your hand towards his head.

“I don’t want to talk about it” his muffle words sound angry, he whined into your stomach a quiet order demanding affection.

Obeying orders before he could whined even more for now you wanted silence again.

Staying like this for as long as he needed, leaving you to speculate what brought him such distress that caused him to abandon you as a result, a part of you stared in awe as you realized you how long this man could stay still without making a sound for.

How long did you lay there in a shared repose that your eyes shut? you wondered as the orange glow of afternoon sun warmed your cheeks, his hand cleaned a falling tear off your face as you woke up with a headache.

“Had a nightmare?”

Your hand unconsciously pulled him close to you, burying his face under your chin he’d awkwardly smiled as he adjusted to your demands, talking to you but it was white noise, your kept him still bridging an arm across his neck locking him in position, your other hand buried in blond, closing your eyes as you got high on shampoo.

In your mind much like your dream you hold him so close, he was plump and giddy, his hair more than a thin tuff, you laughed with him, as you dried his back, you swore to never love the scent of coconut, you held back your pain as you held him with all your might.

“I don’t want to talk about it…”

[awoogayanderes]

CHAPTER ONE : LET THE SHOW BEGIN

➪ sypnosis : you start to trust the process that has been laid out for you, beginning with nine cards.

➪ warnings : mention of sex work, very small mention of starving if you squint, small mention of death

➪ other notes : just a repetition statement from the prologue - the lower numbers of 1-5 are all the same but y/n is 6, so actual 6 in the show will be 8, and the 8 in the show will now be 9, 7 stays as 7, i hope that makes sense, anyways back to the story !! ALSO, i’m mainly writing this for myself BECAUSE THERES NO FICS ABOUT IT, but i also wanna share my imagination with other people :3

➪ prologue | chapter one

the drive felt almost eerie, your leg lightly bounced as time went on. the driver hadn’t spoken a single word, not that you could see them through the panel of blackout glass between you two. your stomach churned, from hunger and from nervousness. maybe you were walking right into sex trafficking rink ? you had no weapons on you, not even a pocket knife but you had some type of concept of self defense you were taught when you were younger.

that’s when the limousine came to a sudden stop. a second later, the door on your side opened by itself once again. from what you could see, it was some type of warehouse…? maybe an old factory ? now you were confident you were going to be prostituted. regardless, you got out of the limousine, a red carpet awaiting you. slowly, you walked inside.

a theatre ? now you were extremely confused, there was no one in the seats, yet the stage was bright with overwhelming lights, a single small table in the middle of it. you walked up to the table, there were nine cards with the range from one to nine. beside it was a red envelope…and 20 million won on the other side. you opened the envelope, and read the contents.

“hello, and welcome to the 8 show. this show doesn't require any skills or previously acquired knowledge. all that we ask of you is the time you were willing to throw away.” what the hell was this ? “all necessary food and accommodations will be provided to participants, and the available prize money will accumulate as time passes.” so the more time spent, the more money, after all, time is money.

“when the allotted time is over, the show will end itself automatically. in the case that any participant expires during the process, the show will immediately come to an end then, regardless of how much time may remain.” expires…? that was more morbid than you’d like to admit. “therefore, we ask that you pay special attention to your safety. if you do not wish to participate, please take the cab fare from the table and exit the premises.” your eyes turned to the 20 million won, contemplating it.

“however, if you do wish to continue with the show, please select one of the numbered cards. you may then step into and through the drapes,” your eyes flickered back to the cards. all nine cards were there. that meant that no one else had been here right ? or did it mean that every other person had the same options as you when they came in ? were there even other people who were going to participate ?!

you looked around, yet you couldn’t see anyone in sight, then there has to be cameras right ? obviously, if not, then anyone would just come in and take the money and leave, who wouldn’t ? well, apparently you. fuck it, you’ve gotten this far, it’s probably better than death, you try to reason with yourself as you look at the cards again. they mean something, they have to or what would the point be.

the median of one through nine is five, right in the center. you hover your hand over the five card. but higher could be better, switching your hand to nine. but isn’t one a good option too ?you could get an advantage as one, you’ve seen it in game shows before ! your shaky bandaged fingers pick up the one card. you held it for a few seconds before your eyes flickered to another card at the bottom left.

six. just above average. just above middle ground. just above middle class, like your family was when you were little. you dropped the one card, picking up the six, now a bit more confident with your choice. “this better not be a prank…” you mumbled to no one in particular. you walked into the red curtains behind you, it led you to an area of darkness with only a few stairs being illuminated in front of you.

when you climbed the stairs, your lips slightly parted in shock. it looked almost like…an apartment complex…? nine different rooms, so that’s what the cards meant, you knew they were significant. the common area, if you could call it that included an artificial pool, a playground, a merry go round, and what looked like an ice cream and hot dog street vendor…? the rest was just open space.

overwhelmed by the bright colors, you marched your way to the sixth floor, sliding your card on the door lock reader, it almost felt like a hotel. the room was completely empty and dark. you sighed, at least it was pretty spacious. you could get used to a place like this, it was comfortable in an odd way, just four walls and you, everything was fine after all, you’d be fine, you were at peace with the silence.

[book-place]

Anti-Hero

Warnings: tua season 1 spoilers, mentions of killing and death, cursing, mentions of drugs, mentions of heart attacks, drinking, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Hargreeves siblings x sister reader

*not my gif*

Summary: When you left, all of your siblings hated you, and now you were facing them once more

A/N: Welcome to book place’s one year event!!

Inspired by: Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

You let loose a long breath and glanced hesitantly up to the tall, menacing building before you. The building of your childhood, if you could even call it that.

To be completely honest, you didn’t even know why you had come back. You hated your father and your siblings hated you, so why would you show up to the man’s funeral, when they would all be there?

As much as you wanted to turn back around and hail another cab to get you as far away from this place as possible, you put on a brave face and pushed the door open, stepping into the vast entryway.

Barely three small steps had been taken inside by you when you froze at the sound of your name being called.

“Y/n,” Allison had her lips parted slightly in shock from where she and Vanya stood at the end of the hall.

You swallowed thickly, “Hey, guys,” You greeted in a voice that was barely even audible to yourself. You toyed with the ends of your gloves nervously.

“Oh, um,” Allison cleared her throat and strode across the room to see you, stopping a healthy three feet away, “It’s so good to see you, Y/n.”

The words were forced, and you knew it, but you gave her a tight lipped smile and a nod anyway.

“Yeah, same here, Y/n!” Vanya called, and you knew in that moment that after everything, she must have been almost as uncomfortable with being here as you were.

If your original gut instinct wasn’t any indication before, then this interaction told you everything about how this visit would go.

The sight of Diego crossing to the staircase caught all of your attention and he snapped something about Vanya not being welcome back before his eyes snapped over to you.

“Y/n,” He spoke in an awkward greeting before skirting past the three of you and clambering up the stairs.

Not only did your siblings hate you, but you just got confirmation that they were also still scared of you. After all these years, when they had grown up beside you and learned how to deal with your ‘gift’, and yet, they were still wary of what you could and possibly would do.

Midnights become my afternoons

You sat on the windowsill in the attic, legs dangling out the window as you looked up at the moon and stars.

“I figured that I would find you up here, Miss. Y/n.” You heard a voice sound behind you.

Unconsciously, you smiled and turned around, “Pogo,” You greeted kindly.

His smile was something that hadn’t changed a bit over the years, “It is so good to see you.” He said genuinely, walking over until he could grasp your gloved hand and squeeze it gently.

He had always been the only one who wasn’t afraid of you. Of what touching you could do to them. Of how painful their deaths would be if they laid a single finger on your bare skin. How without meaning to, you would slowly and excruciatingly kill them.

That’s why you wore gloves and long sleeves at all times, so that no one would unintentionally be hurt by you.

“It’s late,” You hummed when you pulled away, “What are you doing up?”

“Why, I came up here to ask you the same question.” He mused.

You shrugged nonchalantly, leaning your back against the wall, “I don’t usually go to sleep until really early in the morning.” You informed him.

“Well, that can’t be healthy.”

You laughed loudly, the first time you’d done so in what felt like many months, “It’s probably not.” You agreed once you sobered up.

Too busy looking back out the window, you failed to notice Pogo glance behind him and give a hidden figure a single nod of reassurance.

The only thing that brought your attention back to him was once he gave you a slight pat on your clothed knee, “I am always available if you wish to speak about anything.”

You smiled genuinely, “Thank you, Pogo.”

“Hey, n/n.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of a new voice that spoke as soon as Pogo had left.

“Diego,” You breathed out.

“Listen,” He cleared his throat awkwardly as he shuffled into view, coming to a stop right in front of you- less than a healthy distance away, “I’m sorry about earlier. I just didn’t think you were actually gonna show.”

You smiled tightly, pulling your knees up to your chest, “Yeah, that makes two of us.”

He sighed, dropping down into a crouch before you and looking up into your eyes, “I know none of us left off on a good foot- especially with you- but I want you to know that I’m sorry. For everything.”

Your chest tightened at his words. After all these years of thinking every last one of your siblings despised you for who you were- what you could do- you never thought one of your brothers would be telling you that he didn’t actually hate you at all.

“T-thank you, Diego.” You choked out, eyes filling with tears, “That means a lot.”

When my depression works the graveyard shift

Your eyebrows furrowed as you took tentative steps towards your fathers old office, the one that was supposed to be vacant now that he was dead.

The clattering of objects only got louder the closer you got, and it was making you nervous. Perhaps someone had broken in when they heard that the billionaire was dead? The last thing you wanted was to have to resort to using your powers, because you doubted any of your other siblings would come to your aid. Expect of course, maybe Diego.

“Hello?” You called out slowly when you stepped into the room. At the sound of your voice, a head popped up from behind your fathers old desk with a wide grin, and you couldn’t help but relax slightly, “Klaus.” You breathed out.

“N/n!” Your brother squealed, jumping up the rest of the way and scrambling over to you with outstretched arms.

Alarmed, you took a sudden step back, and he stopped short when he noticed.

“Oh!” He giggled, placing a hand near his mouth, “I forgot about the whole no touchie thing!”

“What are you doing in here?” Your eyes shone in curiosity, pushing down the thoughts that threatened to swarm your mind about Klaus’s first instinct being to hug you.

“You know,” He waved a dismissive hand, “Just getting ahead on my inheritance.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched upward slightly at the words, “Really?” You asked in slight amusement.

The man’s jaw dropped open and he stared at you with wide eyes, “Was-was that a smile I just saw? Gosh, my memories from when we were kids consisted of you being completely stone-face.” He let out a shrill giggle again, “Though, I suppose I’m now the one that’s stoned!”

Whatever form of a smile had adorned your face immediately fell and you crossed your arms tightly over your stomach.

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

This was terrible.

The silence was painful to sit through. You must have looked like you had an itch with the way you were shifting back and forth on the couch you stiffly sat on beside Vanya.

Nobody was making eye contact with one another, it was just all of you- once siblings, now complete strangers- sitting in a tense circle in your childhood living room.

Finally, Luther cleared his throat and pushed himself off of the couch that was directly across from you, “So, I guess we should get started.” Everyone’s eyes snapped over to the man that had grown more than a little bit over time, “So, I figured we could have a sort of memorial service in the courtyard at sundown. Say a few words, just at Dad's favorite spot.” He spoke awkwardly.

“Dad had a favorite spot?” Allison’s eyebrows had shot up alongside yours in surprise.

Luther’s own eyebrows furrowed, “You know, under the oak tree. We used to sit out there all the time.” He looked around for anyone to agree with him, only to be met with bewildered looks, “None of you ever did that?”

You shook your head softly, looking down at your hands that fiddled with one another from where they rested in your lap.

Klaus strolled over and began talking loudly, and you sat back and watched silently as everyone went back and forth a little bit.

“Listen up,” Luther tried to reign the family in once more when they got off track, “Still some important things that we need to discuss, all right?”

“Like what?” Diego asked with a roll of his eyes from where he was leaning against a pillar near the fireplace.

“Like the way he died.”

Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open a little as you looked at him, everyone else adorning similar looks.

“I don't understand. I thought they said it was a heart attack.” Vanya piped up in confusion.

“Yeah, according to the coroner.”

“Well, wouldn't they know?”

“Theoretically.” It was clear that Luther was beginning to realize that he had made a mistake by bringing this all up.

“Theoretically?” It was the first time you had spoken up, and you felt a couple of the others glance at you as you did so.

Yet again, your siblings began to bicker back and forth, and you sank lower into the couch cushions, not at all liking the way their voices raised more and more by the minute.

“Oh, isn't it obvious, Klaus? He thinks one of us killed Dad.” Diego’s voice snapped you harshly back to the present and a dangerous silence overcame the entire room again.

You looked up at Luther in disturbance, only to find him already staring down at you. And all at once, you felt your mouth go dry and your throat begin to close up slightly, “You don’t actually think-“

All around you, your siblings caught onto what Luther was really indicating and they adopted looks of shock. Diego let out a low whistle, “That’s messed up, man.”

“Look,” Number one stressed, “I’m just saying, according to the corner, there was nothing wrong with him. With your powers- you could painfully kill a person without showing a mark.”

You hadn’t even realized when you had stood up, but flinched back violently, as if struck, “You think I would kill him?” You whispered with tears forming in your eyes against your will.

Allison pursed her lips and averted her gaze when you desperately looked around for help, making you realize that she was uncertain as well.

“Wow,” You breathed out tearfully, shaking your head back and forth softly before shuffling out of the room.

“Y/n, wait-“

“Good job, Luther.” Diego scoffed and hit his shoulder against his brothers as he trailed after you, “Way to lead.”

I should not be left to my own devices

Somehow, not too long after leaving the living room, you ended up in the courtyard surrounded by your sibling, gazing up with wide eyes at something floating in the sky.

“What is it?”

“Don’t get too close!” Allison called, moving to place her arm in front of you and Vanya, who had your mouths dropped open and took unconscious steps forward.

“Yeah, no shit!” Diego yelled back over the wind, eyes glared against the harsh wind whipping straight at all of you.

Per usual, everyone kept shouting back and forth at one another about what to do, and in doing so, Allison dropped her arm and you were able to slowly creep forward.

Just then, someone fell out of the thing in the sky, landing in a heap right in front of your feet, but everyone was too busy glaring at each other to notice.

“Guys…” You called back cautiously, “Does anyone else see little Number Five, or is that just me?”

They come with prices and vices

You sat on the stairs with your head in your hands, still trying to wrap your mind around everything.

At the beginning of the day, you had come back home expecting to say your goodbyes and possibly even make peace with your father. But now, your long lost brother is back, and not only that, but he claims to have been way older than any of you, whilst being stuck in the body of his thirteen year old self.

“Hey, n/n,” Said brother greeted, strolling over to where you sat with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a sandwich.

You linked your fingers behind your head and tried to smile at him, but you had no doubt that it came out as a grimace, “Five.” You greeted.

Before his disappearance, Five had been the only one who truly was never afraid of you. Even if Diego claimed not to be now, you knew he was still slightly wary, and with good reason too.

“I take it things didn’t go well after I left?” He asked, plopping down onto the stairs beside you.

A small chuckle left your lips at his bluntness. Same old Five.

“No,” You agreed, “They never stopped being scared of me. And I never stopped being scared of myself.” You admitted.

He had always been the only one you could tell everything to about yourself without the fear of judgment.

The two of you fell into a silence that consisted of him munching on his sandwich thoughtfully, “You know,” Five spoke up once he had polished it off, “I think the others have always been more intimidated by you than anything.”

Your eyebrows went up, “How so?” You never really saw yourself as an intimidating individual.

“Because you’re so much more powerful than we all are… and the old man knew that.” He stood up and gave you a tight lipped smile, patting you once on your clothed shoulder and disappearing up the stairs, leaving you to dwell in your thoughts.

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

Allison placed a finger over her mouth to signal for you and Vanya to stay silent from where your backs were pressed up against a wall opposite of her.

A large figure in a mask came creeping through the door that you stood on either side of with a large gun resting in his grip, making your heart tighten.

Right on cue, your sister lunged out, kneeing him in the stomach and punching him in the face the second he doubled over in pain.

Quickly, you ushered Vanya out of the room and made sure she was a safe distance away before spinning on your heel to face Allison and the man, the two now throwing punches at one another with the gun discarded to the side.

Without hesitation, you dove at the man and jumped onto his back, throwing him off balance and sending him to the ground.

When he fell, Allison reeled her foot back and sent it straight into his head, effectively knocking him out cold.

For a moment, the two of you just stood there, panting and trying to catch your breaths.

“You know, Y/n,” She spoke up, surprising you, “I don’t actually think you killed dad. I would never think that of you. I was just in shock that Luther would say such a thing that I didn’t know how to react. A-and I’m sorry for not saying anything when he accused you and I know I should have-“

“Allison.” You cut her off gently, “It’s okay.”

She visibly relaxed as if a weight had been taken off of her shoulders, “And listen, I know you think we all hate you,” She took a step forward and slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, eyes searching yours for any sign that you were uncomfortable with the close proximity. “But we don’t, I promise you we don’t. You were just always isolated from us by dad- and I’m not saying it isn’t partially our fault- because it is, but we’re not kids anymore so there’s no excuse for how we acted. I’m sorry.”

First Diego with the apologies, Klaus acting like everything was normal, and then Allison. You couldn’t believe that your siblings were actually trying to make up with you.

Similarly to how when your brother first talked to you like this, tears began to form in your eyes and you smiled up at her, “T-thank you, Allison. That- that means a lot.”

She shook her head gently, “I’m just sorry that it took so long for me to be able to say it.”

I wake up screaming from dreaming

You gasped, shooting upright with heavy pants as you tried to regain your breathing and keep it under control.

You have been through this routine enough times to know what to do so well that it’s almost like second nature to you at this point.

“Y-Y/n?”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Vanya's voice. She stood in the slightly opened doorway of your childhood room, where you had just been sleeping.

“Vanya,” You breathed out, leaning your back against your headboard, “What’s up?” You swallowed thickly and tried to seem as normal as possible.

The woman hesitated, “I… I left something here so I came back for it but I heard a scream…”

You let a breath loose and allowed your head to fall back, “Sorry,” You apologized in a whisper.

She shook her head back and forth vigorously, “No, no, it’s not your fault. I get it… I get nightmares too…”

You lulled your head to the side and looked at her, “Yeah?”

She nodded, hesitantly shuffling into the room before slowly sitting down on the end of your bed when you moved your feet for her.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She asked gently.

It was then your turn to shake your head, “No, no, it’s nothing I can’t handle- nothing I’m not used to.” You reassured.

“Well… I’m here if you ever need anything.”

You smiled softly, “Thank you, Vanya.”

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

“Five?” You looked up from your plate filled to the brim with breakfast foods your mother had cooked for you as you watched your brother swiftly walk by, “What’s going on?”

“I need to run an errand.” He answered curtly, “I’ll be back soon.”

Anxiety began to set in the pit of your stomach, “O-oh, do you want me to come with you?”

He quickly shook his head back and forth, “There’s no need, it could be dangerous.”

That made the fear double inside of you, “Are you sure you have to go?” You saw him freeze in his steps when he heard the worry seeping through your tone.

He sighed softly and turned around to face you, “It’ll be fine, I’ll be back soon. I promise.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip, “It’s just… you didn’t come back once. What’s to say it won’t happen again?”

“Me.” He reassured you, “I say that it won’t happen again. I won’t let it. I promise.”

With that, he gave you one last of his rare smiles and continued out of the kitchen.

'Cause you got tired of my scheming (For the last time)

“Oh, sorry,” You mumbled, eyes immediately turning downwards the second you entered the living room, “I didn’t realize anyone was in here-“

“Y/n.” Luther immediately shot up from where he had been sitting on the couch, “No, I’m glad you’re here.” Your quick steps to exit the room paused, “We should talk.” He cleared his throat.

You eyed him hesitantly, “About what?”

“I’m sorry for saying that you killed dad!” He blurted out, cheeks turning red as he spoke, “It’s- it’s just that I was so upset and I didn’t know what really happened so I was creating scenarios that I didn’t even want to come true and-“ He stopped himself and took a deep breath to calm down, “And I know that it’s not an excuse, but I’m still very sorry for saying that you would ever be capable of something like that.”

You stayed silent for a moment before slowly nodding your head, “It’s okay,” You said softly, “I forgive you.”

“Really?” He sighed in relief, “Good, because I was scared for a moment there because I was acting like such an ass and-“

“Luther.” You tried to push away the small smile that threatened to grace your face, “I already said it’s fine, just leave it.”

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

“We’re like outcast buddies!”

You looked over at Klaus with a raised eyebrow at his words.

The two of you sat on the stools near the bar in your living room, sipping on some concoction of alcohol that was no doubt older than both of you combined and would have given your father a heart attack at seeing if he was still alive.

“I’m pretty sure all of our siblings are outcasts.” You reminded him.

He sat there, pondering your words for a moment before signing and swirling his straw in his drink, “No, no, I suppose you’re right.” He frowned a little bit and slumped his shoulders slightly.

“Do you… want to be outcast buddies?” You asked hesitantly, eyeing your brother.

Immediately, he perked up with a large grin, “Yes! Yes! Yes!” He shrieked, “We can start a club! We can print t-shirts! We can invite new members-“

You chuckled, sitting back and watching in amusement as your brother got excited over seemingly nothing.

At tea time, everybody agrees

“Thanks for the food, mom, it looks delicious.” You said sincerely.

The woman smiled softly and reached over to cup your cheek, and you immediately leaned further into the touch. Because she wasn’t actually human, she could touch you without consequence. And though you knew it wasn’t the same as if another person touched you, you still took what you could get because it was all that you would get, even if it wasn’t real.

“Of course, sweetie.” She answered with that wide, kind smile of hers gently removing her hand after a moment and leaning down to place a ghost kiss on your forehead, making your eyelids flutter shut.

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

“It’s really weird to look at, isn’t it?” Five asked, walking up and standing beside you, gazing up at the wall.

It was a portrait of you and all your siblings, before Fives disappearance and Ben’s death, hanging in some random of the many hallways of the home.

“It is.” You agreed with a sigh, eyes taking it all in.

The way Five was the only one standing even remotely close to you in the painting didn’t escape your attention. Nor did the way everyone but him seemed to have their bodies angled away from you just slightly.

You forced yourself to tear your eyes away and you cleared your throat, “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we never had these powers?” You asked suddenly.

It had been a thought that had been eating away at you since you were at least seven, never having been voiced out loud by you.

“I try not to dwell on it,” Your brother admitted, “‘Cause there’s nothing we can do to change it.”

Despite his words, you allowed yourself, just for a moment, to picture what it would be like. To be able to hug people and shake hands without them having to worry for their life. To not be the scariest, most deadly person in any room you stood in.

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

All around you, walls were crumbling down and falling every which way. Each small piece of flying debris threatening to hit you.

Not so gracefully, you stumbled through the shaking building, blindly grasping onto the walls for support as you watched in horror as the house came apart all around you for reasons unknown to you.

“Y/n!” You whipped around at the sound of Luther, Allison, and Diego each calling your name and you began sprinting in their direction at the opposite end of the hall.

They each took a large step back when you neared though, causing you to pause, despite the fact that you needed to push on so that you didn’t get hit.

“What is it? What’s happening to-“ You began asking anxiously

“What did you do?” Luther’s words and tone of horror made the rest of your sentence die in your throat.

“How could you do something like this?” Allison whispered, and despite all the chaos, you somehow were still able to hear her. Her eyes shone with betrayal.

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed, “What are you talking about?”

“Dad always said that you only reached the tip of the iceberg with your powers.” Diego was glaring at you coldly in a way that made even your heart freeze, “But I never thought you could be capable of something like this.”

“What-“

“Your powers are to destroy.” Luther hissed venomously, “You can kill everything around you, so why can’t you demolish everything in your path as well with just the touch of your bare fingers?”

Your lungs felt like they were collapsing in on themselves, much like the walls around you, “I would never- I can’t even-“

“I can't believe we trusted you.” Allison shook her head and slowly began backing away once more, “We’ll never make that mistake again.”

The other two trailed after her once they threw more harsh glares your way, not even caring as you sank down to your knees in shock, oblivious to the house that was still caving in on itself all around you.

You had nothing to do with this, you had no idea what was happening. How could they think that you did? After everything, all the progress you all made?

Your suspicions that you had first stepped into this house what felt like years ago- when it had only, in reality, been days- were true.

Your siblings truly did hate you.

The Hargreeves 🦹- @lovanitu @your-local-questioning-agender @jvdethirlwall @ineedmorefanfics2 @sambucky8 @spidyyparker @mukbee @i-writes-things @kiyomi-uchiha777

[consultingskeletondetective]

Virginal, chapter 5

Your relationship with Michael (if you could even call it that) had fallen into a strange little rhythm. He came for you, and you submitted like a good little victim. You'd never angered the shape enough by your non-compliance that he'd wanted to punish you for it.

Until now.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, non con, female reader, stalking, choking, spanking, squirting, forced orgasms

You needed a drink, and a nice distraction wouldn’t have gone amiss either, so when your co-worker Katie suggested you both go out for a bevvy after work you agreed before she’d even finished her sentence.

She chuckled but her expression creased a little as she stopped behind the bar to regard you.

“You okay, princess?” She asked kindly. “You seem a bit distracted today.”

You sighed a little as you pushed the cocktail you were meant to be bussing around the bar and leant against it, slouching forward. You knew you couldn’t tell her what was going on, but even if you could, you weren’t entirely sure you’d even want to tell her, or what the hell you’d even say. Instead, you ran your hand through your hair and didn’t look up.

“Yeah, no, I’m fine. I just,” you blew out your cheeks as you struggled to get your words out. “A…friend of mine had a…a pretty close call with…with…Michael Myers.”

“No shit!” Katie exclaimed quietly, aware of the customers around them, her eyes bugging as she lowered herself down to your height on the other side of the bar. “Are they okay? Did they tell the police? Girl, I can’t sleep because of that psycho.”

“She’s fine.” She fucking isn’t. “It was just a bit of a shock, I guess. It put me on edge, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise!” Katie looked horrified. “He’s a monster! I’ve heard he’s killed like, what, 30 people since he escaped? They were saying on the news this morning that no one can figure out why he’s staying here and not going back to his hometown like the last time. You’d reckon if that were really the case then they’d have caught him by now.”

You were silent. You didn’t know if you were the reason he was staying, but then you also didn’t not know. Your stomach was in knots.

“All the more reason for that drink.” Katie smiled kindly. “Get your mind off that animal.”

“Yeah,” you managed a small, genuine smile. “That sounds amazing.”

You both hit the bar after your shift, still in your work clothes, and it was dark outside by the time you left. You’d only had a couple, but enough that you were feeling merry, maybe even happy, almost completely forgetting the waking nightmare you were living in.

You and Katie shared a cab back to yours and you hugged her goodnight before stepping out into the cool night air of your street, your front door in view. You heard her giving the cabbie directions to her house and then the car and its headlights disappeared around the corner and left you back in the darkness of the evening.

You slotted your key into the front door and pushed it open, already feeling your bed calling you, and you fumbled blindly next to the door until you found the lightswitch and turned it on, illuminating your living room. 

Michael was stood in the corner of the room. He was staring, or seemingly so, at the front door. He stood as stiff as a board, his hands clenched by his sides. It was the only indication of his anger at all because he didn’t react when he saw you.

You stilled, your hand still on the door handle and you contemplated running back out into the street and screaming for help. You already knew that at this time of evening that the street was dead and he’d be across the room and your neck would be snapped in a second. 

“What do you want, Michael?” You asked cooly, like you didn’t know. You assumed it was the alcohol giving you dutch courage, but there was still an unmistakable tremor to your voice when you spoke. 

He didn’t answer you, because of course he didn’t, and for the first time you felt anger joining the fear shooting up your spine.

He took a measured step across the room, under the main light, and it was only then that you really noticed that his boiler suit was splattered with blood, the material of it sticking to his body in places, there was even a streak of gore on the cheek of his pale mask.

Your eyes widened and you hurried into the room and closed the door before taking a shaky step towards him, as if you’d accepted somewhere inside you that if you were the only one who got hurt, then that was okay. 

“What did you do?” You asked the silence. Michael’s fists were still clenched, even though he was quiet and still as always, you could feel the waves of fury rolling off of him like it was tangible. Like flames of anger were licking across the room and burning you.

“How long have you been here?” You didn’t know why you even asked, it was just a force of habit at this point, you supposed. You were shrinking by the door, he was…different tonight. Mad. Maybe it was the blood, it reminded you of how dangerous he was, or maybe it was the way he was breathing, maybe it was the way he wasn’t moving - he’d have been all over you by now, but this time he wasn’t, like whatever was wrong was somehow your fault.

“Wait, are you mad at me for being out?” You asked incredulously. He didn’t move. You laughed maniacally at the absurdity of it. You definitely had dutch courage tonight. “Don’t stand there and stare at me all pissed off like I’ve missed fucking date night. I have a life outside of you!” You were fully shouting now, spurned on by his lack of response. “I’m not just going to be readily available whenever you want something to stick your cock into!”

Michael strode across the room faster than you’d ever seen him move until he was towering over you. His blood-stained fist curled around your throat, cutting off your air so you couldn’t even scream as he lifted you into the air until you were nearly two feet off of the carpet. Pain shot through your neck and your fingernails scraped at Michael’s large hand instinctively but he was solid and immovable, he just watched you silently as you scrabbled for air and kicked your legs out uselessly to collide painfully with his.

Your whole body felt like it was caught in flames as the blood rushed to your toes and you felt yourself going hazy.

“I’m sorry!” You gasped out weakly. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please put me down.”

After an apparent moment of deliberation, Michael opened his fist and you fell to the ground and collided heavily with the floor. You landed on your spine but the pain dulled behind you as your hands scrambled protectively to your throat. You knew you’d have deep bruises there tomorrow. You looked up at him as your eyes swam with tears.

Fear bubbled inside you when you saw the blade in his grip, crusted with the same blood that was on his boiler suit.

You darted to your feet but then his heavy boot was on your sternum and you were hurtling back, your spine hitting the carpet again and this time it knocked the air out of you.

You coughed in pain, your eyes bleary with tears, as Michael lowered himself to his knees in front of you. He leant over your small body, utterly dwarfing you, until his masked nose was rubbing against yours and a bizarre streak of heat shot through you.

The sharp edge of his kitchen knife pressed cruelly against your throat and you honestly didn’t know if it diminished or added to your arousal. Either one was the wrong answer. You waited for the inevitable push down and the flash of pain as your flesh was rendered apart and blood spilled down onto your carpet.

Your eyes met the eyes of his mask and you felt strangely calm, maybe a little sad, as if silently telling him goodbye.

After a few more measured, bloated moments, filled with nothing but your twin breathing, the knife left your neck and scattered across the carpet as Michael discarded it without a second thought and his gore-thickened hands pushed your legs up and out of the way.

You gasped as your cheeks burned bright, only just realising how wet you were now your thighs were in his hands. 

“Fuck…” You gasped, your heart hammering from adrenaline and arousal as Michael tore your trousers down your legs and discarded the ruined fabric behind him and then he was wrenching your legs apart, holding you down by the backs of your knees until your thigh muscles were straining painfully, your core utterly vulnerable to his murderous rage. Your thighs glistened with your own slick.

You rasped out his name and he reared back to sit back on his ankles before his gargantuan hands scraped up your thigh and you whimpered. The harsh slap of skin on wet skin as he struck the sensitive flesh of your inner thigh echoed around the room and you yelped, your body twisting off of the carpet in response. His other hand kept you pinned as he slapped your other thigh, leaving a raised and red welt on your sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Michael," you gasped as the searing pain shot through your thighs and right to your core and dollops of arousal dribbled from your traitorous little hole and a whine fell unaided from your lips. It was like he was spanking you as some sort of punishment for disobeying him tonight.

Michael looked down at you as he raised his hand again and you jolted on instinct as a heavy spank landed directly on your exposed and dripping cunt.

Your whole body arched and an inhuman screech left your mouth as your clit trembled under the violent abuse of Michael’s punishing strike.

“I’m sorry-” You gasped out. “Please-”

He surged forward with a burst of speed that scared you before he was wrapping his fingers around your throat and then he was holding you to the ground. His silent fury was unmistakable. You will be sorry. 

You’d never seen him like this before. He was angry, angry with you. He had no hesitation in his movements as his hand left your neck and he sat back and yanked his zip down with a harsh growl of metal teeth and then he was pulling himself out. 

Oh shit. His cock was hard in a way you’d never seen before, it was red and angry like his mood, swollen and dripping, the colour of blood. He throbbed in his own grip. 

He lurched forward and wrapped his fingers around your thighs, dragging you across the carpet until it scraped painfully over your ass before hauling you against him. He threw your legs around his broad hips, his hand disappeared between your bodies for a moment and then you were groaning when you felt his engorged head breaching your weeping hole. 

Michael surged forward, bending you in half until you were whimpering in shocked pain from the abuse to your thighs and your stomach and Michael was shoving his long cock all the way inside you. You felt the pain of his brutal thrust and his cock throbbing inside you as your cunt fluttered and clenched uselessly around his whole length. It burned so good, stretching you wide and deep and tears fell from your eyes from pure intense feeling alone.

Michael’s hands found your wrists and gripped them tightly, holding you firm to the carpet and it hurt, it hurt so bad that you couldn’t think, but then he was rearing his hips back and slipping his cock from your tight heat before shoving himself back in again with the same ferocity as before, pounding solid against your sweet spot immediately.

Your eyes rolled. His thrusts were brutally hard and the slam of his hips against your hips ignited a pain deep in your bones. Your entire body jolted upwards and your skin rippled as he fucked you with enough force that you’d be shoved across the carpet if his hands weren’t pinning your wrists immobile against it. 

You were delirious with it, with the fucking pressure of his cock against your walls with solid and unforgiving and aggressive pleasure. 

You felt like an animal, being disciplined with cock. You were being shown exactly what you were for and forced to submit so he didn’t cause you injury while he was deep inside you. You were his, not yours, his. 

Your mouth was open but no words came out. Your eyes were hazy and he swam in front of you. The heat of his body mixed with your cunt clenching on his cock inside of you as your thighs quivered and your hips bucked up and a soft, strained whimper fell helplessly from your mouth.

A full-bodied sob left your mouth as you squirted hard around Michael’s cock. The feeling of your release being expelled was fucking incredible and it felt like it went on for days. He slipped from you, pushed out from the iron-tightness of your coming walls, his cock jamming against your folds and you whined, delirious eyes searching blindly as your cunt clenched, trying to find him.

“No, no, no, Michael, please, fuck, fuck m-”

An almost hoarse exhale of breath left Michael’s mouth and it was the loudest he’d ever been with you as one hand left your wrist. It was deeply bruised but that wasn’t the only reason you didn’t move as you watched him grip his wet cock - the squelch of his fist on it deliriously sexy - as he slipped himself down and entered you again.

You groaned and your head tipped back as he pushed back inside you, his cock rock solid and hot, and then he was leaning over you again, his fingers finding your wrist but it was clumsy as he fucked back into you. Instead, his palm fell flat against yours, your fingers rested against each other as he dwarfed your hand. He didn’t even need to use any energy to pin you down, he was heavy enough to do it.

Michael’s mask rested against your forehead as his cock pulsed against your sweet spot, and every thrust in brought an obscene squelch with how wet you were. You groaned and whimpered as his thrusts sped up again between your legs, somehow even harder than before, and then his hand was leaving your hand and wrapping around your neck. Your eyes locked onto the eyes of his mask and you gasped weakly as your legs wrapped painfully hard around his broad waist and you squirted again with a groan, hearing the splash of it. He didn’t let you push him out this time, instead he held your throat tighter, his body flush against yours as he fucked you through it. He ploughed you with enough force that it hurt, rubbing your vulnerable and spent sweet spot until you were shivering and jolting against it. He came to a halt as you clenched on him, rough breathing escaping his mask as his cock throbbed inside you and you felt the warm gush of Michael’s release in your damn womb.

Your whole body trembled on the carpet, trapped under Michael’s scorching weight. He seemed to stay on top of you for a long time, his hand lax on your throat and there was something about it that was sort of - nice. He was holding his own weight somehow, so that you could feel every inch of him pressed against you but he wasn’t crushing you like you knew he could very easily. 

You felt a wave of emotion that brought tears to your eyes, upset that you’d upset him tonight, you didn’t want to do it again, you just wanted him close like this forever. Your brain quickly rejected the thought as you instinctively remembered yourself. You were fuck-drunk, and maybe even actual-drunk, and you were overhot and sluggish from coming so hard. You tried to compare it to some other time in your life but you couldn’t. You’d never come that hard before, simple as.

Soon enough, Michael was sitting back, his cock slipping from your wet hole with a slather of liquid, both yours and his, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

He was soft. It was the first time you’d seen him like that, but somehow the flop of his spent cock sent waves of arousal through you. The swollen and limp shaft hanging heavily between his legs was one of the hottest things you’d ever seen. You’re so fucked, you reminded yourself routinely.

“Michael.” Your voice was a rasp, and his mask tilted up as if he were listening to you. You had nothing to say.

Instead, his hands found your thighs and pressed them back apart. His fingers ran through your folds, gathering your spend on them before he was bringing his hand up to his mask as if to inspect it. You blushed harder. Michael’s fingers disappeared under his mask for a long moment and when he retracted them, they were cleaned with his own spit.

Before you even had time to process whatever the fuck you’d just seen, he was trailing his fingers between your legs again and finding your wet heat before sinking inside you. It was easy, with how blown wide you were, for him to sink up to the knuckle with his index and middle, but when he flexed them, your whole body jolted as his calloused fingertips brushed against your swollen and used sweet spot.

“Ah!” You gasped as the spirals of oversensitive pleasure coursed through you. Michael’s hand squeezed over the red welt glistening on your thigh as his fingers sped up, thumb swiping memorably over your trembling clit as he pistoned in you in a less than gentle way.

Your cunt clenched uselessly as pleasure churned violently inside you and shivers hit the nape of your neck as you neared your crest. You wailed as you squirted liquid spend into Michael’s open palm, he didn’t stop, fucking you through it as spurt after spurt of you landed on him and you couldn’t help yourself, throwing your head back and moaning in a way that would put a porn star to shame. 

Michael pulled his fingers from you and your cunt quivered from overuse, your cheeks hot, your whole body trembling. Forget stars, you were seeing the gates of heaven.

You just about managed to crane your neck up with what little strength you had in time to see Michael wrapping his slick-soaked hand around his own cock as it thickened up in his grip again. Your eyes widened. He wasn’t human, you knew that already, but it still surprised you.

He curled his hand around your hip as he pushed himself up higher on his knees and ran his head through your folds, smearing his own white come onto you like a mark. You groaned at the sight and the heat and even managed a tired smile.

“I don’t think I can go again.” You said honestly. “I think you broke me.”

Michael’s head cocked but he didn’t look up at you as he sunk his cock back inside you and somehow he felt even bigger than before, it felt like air was being punched out of your gut as your back arched against the carpet. You were wet and stretched enough that he slid home with relative ease, but you were so hyper-sensitive that you could feel every vein of him, every inch of hot cock as he pushed up in you. You looked down, your brain nearly offlining with pleasure and horror as your theory was confirmed, there it was, a bulge in your stomach where his cockhead sat. 

You were mesmerised by it, him inside you, a part of you, or was it the other way around? You blamed your fuck-drunk brain as your hand snaked lazily down and pressed against it. 

Michael jolted up and your eyes flicked to him, widening as he gripped your ass as if in response and rolled you down onto his cock. Your hands fell to the floor and you groaned as your sore sweet spot pressed hard against his thick length, every one of your outward breaths was a lengthy and desperate gasp as he fucked you for the second time that evening. It wasn’t as ferocious as before, like he wasn’t dashing for the finish line this time, rather he was enjoying himself. You assumed that meant you were forgiven. 

“Oh, fuck, please be gentle,” you begged. “I’m so sensitive…”

His fingernails gripped your thighs as he fucked into you with measured strokes and your shoulders shook as your drawn out pleasure was nearly painful, your cunt clenching uselessly. You didn’t know how long it went on for, but it felt like forever, like a never-ending sweet torture. 

Michael’s grip on your thighs tightened and you recognised the cruel action, the warning infliction of pain when you’d angered him. You frowned in your post-orgasmic haze, wondering what you’d done, or what you weren’t doing -

His hips sped up between your legs and you gasped, your head shooting up as your thighs quaked at the unexpected change to hard and fast and unrelenting and -

Fuuuuuuck, your brain scrambled and you choked on your own spit as you gushed around him. He slipped free from you willingly and watched your spray gush out messily and you winced and blushed and then he leant up, his cock still stiff and bobbing, wet and ignored, as his fingers went back inside your cunt. You damn-near sat up on his hand, impaling yourself and gasping as you scratched at his wrist uselessly.

“No, no, no, no more, Michael, I can’t -”

Michael was already three fingers deep inside you, hammering up against you roughly, squelching with every flex of his murderous, strong fingers and you sobbed loudly as his thumb pressed back on your sensitive clit and pain shot through your thighs and you quivered and pulsed and a few weak spurts dribbled down his wrist. 

His breathing sounded ragged as he let his fingers slip from you, watching the pitiful squirts of your pussy as you collapsed back and your chest heaved, utterly spent with how much you’d come, and how hard. Was Michael a demon or a god? Or both? You didn’t know. You were so zoned out that you didn’t realise that he’d just pleasured you, if only for the curiosity of watching you come all over him. 

Michael seemed to decide that his good deed was done for the night, however, as he speared you open on his aching cock and you dribbled down onto your own neck, fucked out and useless. Your hand found his wrist and gripped, anchoring yourself as he fucked into you. This cruel fuck was nothing to do with you, you were just a wet vice-grip around his cock, your body a masturbatory aid as he rammed into you. That didn’t stop your cunt clenching on him though, it didn’t stop the obscene spikes of overstimulated pleasure drowning you and you had no idea if you were coming, none at all,  but you didn’t have anything left to give, you didn’t even clench particularly hard, and Michael slipped out again.

You waited for him to thrust back in but he didn’t, instead he sat up, taking his wet cock in his fist and you watched delirously as he pumped himself in his huge red fist, one hand gripping your knee painfully, and then he was pulsing in his hand and his hot spray was coating your stomach like he was marking you, giving you his come in a bizarre imitation of taking yours. 

You felt his hot spend on your stomach and your hand came down to wipe it around, coating your stomach in him. A traitorous and horrible part of your brain wanted to bring it to your mouth and taste him, like you were desperate for it, but you couldn’t. He was still a murderer, an abomination, you still hated him.

Michael was watching you spread him all over your body like you were trying to wear him and you promptly stopped, letting your hand fall limply to your side.

Michael started to tuck himself back into his ruined boiler suit and you became more aware of yourself, you knew he’d broken in somehow, you knew his knife was lying around here somewhere. What he planned to do with it, you didn’t know.

You turned your head to search for it and a sickly wave washed over you. The world span for a moment until your exhausted body gave up, and the carpet beneath your head suddenly became the comfiest thing in the world.

…

It was pitch black when you woke up, so much so that you couldn’t see an inch in front of your face. You let the events of your evening wash over you with mixed emotions before wondering briefly if you’d fallen asleep or simply passed out, before deciding that you honestly didn’t know. 

You laid there in the dark for a long time, the thrill of waking up alive every time was becoming less intense but it still played on your mind. You knew you were fucked when you considered your monsterous lover not murdering you as a small convenience to your life.

Tonight had been different though, hadn’t it? You couldn’t put your finger on exactly why and you were too tired to even try.

Finally, exhausted, you pushed yourself up and frowned when you felt spongey resistance beneath your sore palms. 

Following a hunch that couldn’t possibly be true, you let your sense-memory guide your hand and, sure enough, you found your bedside lamp in the gloom. It bathed your bedroom in a mellow light. 

Your bed was soft beneath you, and, as usual, Michael was gone.

[midsummer-semantics]

the hint of a spark

Written for day 3 of @steddieangstyaugust.

Prompt: "The sunset looks lovely, doesn't it?"

Rating: G | WC: 2k | S4 Canon Compliant

Title from "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" by Death Cab For Cutie

divider from @steddiecameraroll-graphics

The calm before the storm is always Steve’s least favorite part. The idle waiting they all have to do before a plan can be set in motion. It’s worse now, somehow, than it was in ‘83 or ‘84 (he doesn’t think about ‘85, when most of the waiting was done tied to a chair under the heavy influence of Russian drugs). Now, half of their group is AWOL and there’s a new person that shouldn’t have been involved in the first place.

It’s still early, their plan not beginning until after the sun goes down, but Steve is restless. He wants to finish this. Finally. Three years of his life tied to the bullshit that this Vecna guy has pulled and for what? What’s the goddamn point?

“Brooding all by yourself, handsome?” a voice comes, startling Steve out of his… okay, he was brooding. He looks over to find Eddie climbing the ladder that leads to the top of the caravan, which Steve had retreated to with a flimsy excuse of ‘keeping watch’ while the others tried to get some rest, charge up for the night ahead of them.

He waits until Eddie takes a seat next to him, offering a crooked smile before responding. “Got an image to maintain.”

Eddie snorts as he settles, one leg extended so his foot hangs off the side of the RV, the other bent so he can rest his elbow on his knee. “Even in the face of impending doom, you’re still the formidable King Steve,” he quips, but it lacks the bitterness that Steve’s used to hearing when that nickname comes up.

Steve bumps his shoulder to Eddie’s, a silent acknowledgment of the joke.

It’s quiet this far away from downtown. Not the suffocating quiet of his house or the droning quiet of Family Video on a slow day. A peaceful quiet. The kind of quiet that Steve hasn’t experienced in a while. The kind that lets him delude himself into thinking that the world is a quiet place, where the leaves rustle on the trees and crickets chirp to give the temperature and there’s no alternate dimension ready to rise up and raze the town. 

It’s a shame it’s March, he thinks. If it was summer, the fireflies would be beginning their nightly dance, one turning to two turning to a hundred as the sun sets over the open field. There’d be the smell of impending rain as another summer storm rolls in and a fox or two running to find a burrow.

Steve’s always been a big fan of summers: the sunshine and the adventure, the possibilities, the liminal space between school terms that allows him to just exist without thought for what came before or what comes after.

He still likes summer, even if the beginning of July is likely to be less exciting after last year. A lot of things have been ruined thanks to the crap they’re going to face later.

“How do you do it?” Eddie asks, once again breaking through Steve’s contemplative silence.

“Huh?”

Eddie flicks open his zippo, which is the only thing that survived the dive into the Upside Down since his cigarettes didn’t. Steve watches him spark a flame, snuff it out, open, spark, snuff, repeat.

“All of—” Eddie waves his free hand over them then the RV they’re sitting on, “—this. The battles. The interdimensional plot twists. The fucking….” He sighs, shaking his head, his hair swiveling around under the bandana he’s already tied over it. “Everything.”

Steve takes a moment to look, really look, at the man sitting beside him. Eddie’s eyes are huge, pleading, but beyond that they glisten in the fading daylight. They contain the horrors that he’s faced in the last few days, but they also contain galaxies, the beginning and end of worlds as they sparkle and shine.

He’s a little pale, sure, like he hasn’t seen daylight in two years, but the color rising to his cheeks as Steve studies him gives heat to the simmering in Steve’s stomach that started since Eddie held a broken bottle to his throat. 

Since before that, probably. The first time sophomore-Steve saw Eddie Munson stand on top of a lunch table and wax poetic about the system and forced conformity. 

The first time Steve really thought ‘I want to be like that.’

He doesn’t mean loud or angry or volatile, he has plenty of that hidden between the bricks of his carefully crafted walls. He knows what attention feels like, knows that, at one point, people looked to him like he brings some sort of message only they can get from him. No. He means unapologetic, open, himself.

He hasn’t really felt any of that since November ‘83. He’s made an active effort to feel nothing at all, because feeling means hurt and pain, and nothing means…

“You get used to it,” Steve states, tone light despite the tempest swirling in his being.

Eddie stares at him for several beats, enough time to have the younger man almost turning away. “That’s pretty fucked up, Steve.”

Steve scoffs, mostly because Eddie’s right and he knows that, but also because it’s second nature. Scoff at the drama, the trauma, the ridiculous things. 

Old habits die hard.

“No, but really,” Eddie continues. “You’ve been through a lot. Way more than you’ve told me, I know for sure. So…”

Steve shrugs, brings a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “Well, normally we have—”

“The girl with super powers, yeah, I get it,” Eddie snaps. “But that doesn’t explain how you get through it all. Because if I’m honest, man, I’m about three seconds from running at every moment and you just…” He inhales and exhales heavily. “You just keep going. How?”

Steve sighs, turning back to watch the sky begin its change from blue to orange. 

“I dunno, man. I haven’t really gotten a chance to stop and think about it since it all started.”

That’s not entirely true. There’s been lulls between events before, time when Steve probably should have processed everything he’s been through. But again, it’s easier to just ignore it. Count his lucky stars that he survived another fight and then move on in the hopes he doesn’t have to do it again.

Eddie continues to fiddle with his lighter, occasionally spinning it between his forefinger and thumb before going through the motions once more. Open, spark, snuff, again.

“I guess that’s part of what I don’t get. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since it happened.”

Steve doesn’t ask him to clarify, he doesn’t need to. Not when he gets it completely.

“Barbra Holland died in my pool,” he says, once again looking out over the field. The sun has dipped below the treeline now, the sky darkening.

Eddie’s movements stop altogether. “What?”

“Yep,” Steve says, popping the P. “The night Will Byers went missing. The demogorgon that took him also killed her.”

He can feel Eddie’s eyes on him as the metalhead speaks. “And… where were you?”

Upstairs. Taking Nancy Wheeler’s virginity.

“Inside with some friends. It happened so fast, no one even heard it.”

“Shit, dude. So you’ve really been in this since the very beginning.”

Steve nods absently. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He doesn’t really think of it like that. Or, he hadn’t until now, he supposes. Mostly, he just blames himself, even though realistically he knows there’s nothing he could have done at the time even if they’d all been outside with Barb. It likely would have resulted in all of their deaths instead. There was no nail bat or firearms at that point. Just four stupid kids and an innocent girl who didn’t deserve to die.

“Billy didn’t die in the mall fire either,” he redirects.

“Oh jeez,” Eddie groans. “Don’t tell me, another demogorgon attack?”

Steve chuckles, can’t help it. “I wish. No, Mind Flayer that time.”

“It’s really uncomfortable the way all of these monsters are named after D&D characters.”

Steve laughs again, fiddling with the zipper tab on his vest. He wishes Eddie still had his cigarettes.

“Yeah, a bunch of people went missing and it turned out they were all melting into goo to create this 50-foot monster thing,” he explains, glancing over at Eddie’s horrified look. Honestly, it sounds unbelievable, like something entirely made up, so it’s a little sad to see in real-time that Eddie believes him. “Billy was working for it, I guess. I don’t really understand the connection even now. Anyway, we tried to take it out with fireworks—”

“Fireworks?” Eddie guffaws. 

Steve snorts. “Yeah well, it was all we had available. Well, that, and Nancy had a pistol, but there’s no way it would have stood a chance against this thing. But yeah, Billy tried to fight it, it was going to kill El, er, Supergirl, and Billy… I don’t know. Had a change of heart?” He shakes his head. “It was too strong, though. And he… he didn’t…”

Steve trails off, memories of that night flashing through his mind. It’s still, even now thanks to the drugs that had been in his system, but the crunching of bones and the piercing scream Max let out still ring in his ears if he listens close enough.

“So yeah,” he says after a moment. “I just try not to think about it.”

Eddie still looks scandalized when Steve looks at him again, his brows furrowed and his eyes shining in the dying daylight. He’s thinking, Steve can tell by the way his jaw flexes and his eyes dart over Steve’s face. Finally, the metalhead brings a hand up, resting it on Steve’s shoulder.

“And here you are, about to run head-first into battle again. You’re pretty amazing, Steve.”

Steve’s heart thumps hard at Eddie’s words, the touch to his shoulder that he can’t really feel through the tactical layers, but the weight of Eddie’s hand is enough.

“Thanks, man,” he replies, hesitating only for a moment before bringing his own hand up and resting it on Eddie’s bent knee. He can feel Eddie’s skin under his palm through the rip in the denim, and he absently drags his thumb across it. “So are you.”

It’s probably too forward. They barely know each other, and Steve might be overly familiar with what a crush feels like, but this doesn’t seem like the ideal time to explore that feeling. Although, if they’re going to die tonight, then he might as well let it ripple out in the open while he can.

Eddie drags his gaze away from Steve’s face to look down at his hand on his knee, this breathing a little shallower. Steve doesn’t stop touching him, won’t unless Eddie tells him to. But Eddie doesn’t, he swallows harshly and looks back up at Steve with a question in his eyes that Steve gives a nod and small smile to. They don’t need to talk about it. Either they survive tonight and can talk about it after, when the dust settles, or they don’t and talking wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

Instead, they sit in the quiet calm before the storm, Eddie only moving to brush the hand on Steve’s shoulder across his back to the other side, scooting a little closer to lay his head on the now free shoulder. Steve keeps his hand on Eddie’s knee, moving it just enough to cup the inside of it, holding him a little tighter.

“The sunset is lovely, don’t ya think?” Eddie asks, hushed, like it would shred the little blanket of night that’s folded over them.

“Yeah,” Steve replies, resting his chin on the top of Eddie’s bandana-covered head, wishing it wasn’t there so he could press his lips to Eddie’s hair, feel the curls against his skin, take in his scent if it’s the only chance he’ll get to do so. “It is.”

[neewtmas]

What's Mine is Yours

A/N: This was so fun to write! It's a little bit on the shorter side, but I hope you all enjoy :) @hufflepuff1619 thank you so much for your request! I hope you like it <3

pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader

wordcount: 1.4k

request: Hello! I was wondering if I could request a one shot please for Lockwood. The reader works for Lockwood and Co and because of their job, she gets nightmares a lot and that usually ends up with her sleeping in Lockwoods bed and it basically become her bedroom too. Thank you. - by @hufflepuff1619

taglist: @maraschinomerry @marinalor @oblivious-idiot @lockwood-lover @givemea-dam-break (if you wanna be added/removed, just send me an ask/message :))

masterlist

The only sound in the cold night air was the cab driving down the street, lights quickly disappearing in the thick fog drifting over the pavement. Lockwood, George, Lucy and Y/N stood in front of 35 Portland Row, duffle bags on the ground next to them.

"Well, let's get inside and get some sleep", Lockwood's voice cut through the silence just as the ghost lamp at the corner switched off. The gate creaked as he pushed it open, and the small light next to the door switched on, illuminating the uneven stones that paved the way to the steps. He carried his bag up to the door and set it down, reaching for the keys in his pockets. He fumbled with them, almost dropping them before he found the right one and unlocked the door. It swung open and he let the other three trudge past him before he entered and closed the door again, leaving the darkness of the night outside.

The light in the hallway, though homely and warm, showed just how exhausted everyone was. No words were exchanged as they all left their bags by the door, the clean-up a concern for the next morning, and went into the kitchen. George immediately set a kettle on the stove, and Y/N sat down on one of the chairs while Lockwood rummaged in one of the cabinets for some biscuits.

Lucy grabbed one from the plate he set down on the table and excused herself to bed with a 'good night' mumbled out between bites of biscuit.

Y/N took the cup George gave her and gave him a thankful smile. She poured a bit of sugar in and stirred a few times, watching the liquid swirl around her spoon. She was tired, eyes threatening to fall close every few minutes. She had already dozed off on the cab ride home. But as much as she wanted nothing more than to curl up under her blanket and fall into a deep sleep, she also knew that it probably wouldn't be that easy.

"That ghost was something, huh?" Lockwood said to no one in particular. George snapped out of staring at the wall and nodded slowly. "At least this time, we weren't wholly unprepared."

He was right. From that perspective, tonight's case had gone great - no ugly surprises, and everything had been just the way George had predicted it with the material he had researched. They had worked together fabulously, and for once, no one was subjected to a near-death experience. Unfortunately, that was unusual.

"Raw-Bones are truly the worst", Lockwood said contemplatively, examining the biscuit he was holding closely before taking a bite. "Haven't seen a visitor this nasty and revolting in a long time."

Y/N squeezed her eyes closed, trying hard to stop her brain from conjuring up the memory of the ghost they had encountered just a few hours ago. "I think I'll go to bed as well", she said quietly and got up. She could feel Lockwood's eyes follow her as she walked over to the sink and emptied her cup into it. She hated wasting perfectly good tea, but right now she didn't feel she could stomach even one more sip.

She slowly made her way upstairs, feeling heavy and tired. A dull ache had started to form behind her forehead and after she exchanged her ectoplasm-stained clothes for soft pyjamas, she finally climbed into her bed and sighed a breath of relief. She pulled the blanket up under her chin and curled her knees to her chest, head comfortably buried in her fluffy pillow. She reached out from under her blanket to switch off the small nightlamp on her bedside table, and then her room was pitch black.

She did not yet close her eyes, but instead just stared into the dark, trying to calm her breathing. She listened to the quiet creaking of the floorboards as either George or Lockwood moved around one floor below her room. After a while, doors closed and the only thing that was left to hear was her own breaths. She pulled her blanket tighter around herself and tried to close her eyes, hoping to fall asleep quickly.

But the moment she did, her mind was flooded with the gruesome pictures of the Raw-Bones she had fought off hours earlier. One would think being an agent and fighting off ghosts for a living would get easier with time, and in some ways, it did - where she started as a talented but terrified ten year old she was now a capable agent. But no matter how well she did in the field, her sleep suffered after especially horrific cases, just like the one tonight.

George had prepared them - they knew what was coming. But seeing the skinless corpse, bloody all over with ribs sticking out, eyes bulging out as it robbed over the floor, leaving a trail of blood that was of course just ectoplasm but sure as hell didn't look like it - it was enough for her to know that the nightmares would come.

She opened her eyes again, quickly switching on her night lamp. The warm light was comforting. She knew that sleep was impossible tonight. Should she go down to Lockwood's room? He had been kind and understanding from the moment she first knocked at his door after a nightmare that had left her shaking a few weeks after she had started working here. After that, it had happened a few other times - and even though he never gave her the feeling that she was too much, maybe he just wanted to be nice.

A few minutes later she was tip-toeing down the stairs. Maybe he was just being nice, and maybe it meant nothing at all, but she desperately needed sleep and knew it wasn't going to happen if she stayed in her bed by herself.

In front of his bedroom door, she hesitated for a moment, not quite sure of herself. But then she took a deep breath and knocked three times, just like every time before. It was silent in his room, and for a moment she thought he was already asleep and was ready to turn around, but then she heard rustling and footsteps behind the door.

The door swung open and revealed Lockwood in his pyjamas, hair already messy. "Y/N. Are you okay? Another nightmare?" The way he said it made it clear that he was concerned, and not at all annoyed like she had feared. Her shoulders slumped down. "Not yet", she whispered. "But I can't sleep."

He extended his hand to her and she hesitantly took it, allowing him to pull her into the room and closer to him. He closed the door behind her, and now they stood in darkness. He squeezed her hand and led her to his bed where he switched on the night light.

"Do you wanna sleep here tonight?" She nodded and he climbed into bed, scooting over so that she had enough space to lay down next to him and lifted the blanket. The spot was still warm from him laying the moments earlier. He reached over her to switch off the light, and she could feel his breath at the back of her head and his warm body pressed up to hers. He didn't pull his arm back, instead wrapped it around her and pulled her closer to his chest.

She suddenly felt very hot and was glad that the room was dark, otherwise, he would have seen the intense blush that coloured her cheeks crimson. It wasn't the first time this had happened, but she was flustered just the same, every single time.

"Sorry that I'm bothering you again", she said quietly, cringing at how loud it still sounded. He was silent for a moment. "You're not bothering me, Y/N. You could never bother me." He paused and leaned closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Do you wanna know a secret? Every time a case is especially scary, I lie here and wait and hope for you to show up at my door."

She swallowed hard. This was new. His thumb was tracing patterns over her stomach where he was holding her. "Really?", she asked, breathless. "You don't mind sharing your bed?"

"Not if it's with you." He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple. "What's mine is yours, as long as you want it."

thank you for reading, feedback is appreciated :)

[goth-mami-writer]

💙Reserve💙~(pt.2)~

~(Au)Leon Kennedy × f!Reader drabble

~[Continued by request]

~{Find part 1 here} @exquisitelion

(Taking requests for new drabbles. Send me your ideas, and I'll tag you in the upload! 💙)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

《~ A week later.

It was early that morning when Leon received a call regarding a bust in progress for a crime ring across town. Some of the individuals involved were suspects in your case. He couldn't leave you at the house alone safely, so every time he left for a call, you played a ride-along in the backseat.

Unfortunately, every time this happened, you had no good warning, and had to come with no preparation.

Leon approached the horde of police cruisers that were circled around an open freighter in the dockyard. Agents for the bureau were confiscating the contents endlessly in large bags and totes, and there were men knelt to the gravel being questioned in handcuffs. But they were silent, unwilling to offer any information regarding their business or identities.

The chief of police approached Leon's side, asking him quietly if you were with him.

“Yeah, she's asleep in the cruiser.” Leon replied.

“Bring her.” His boss said with his head tilted to the people being detained in front of them,

“She might recognize someone here. That'll help us with info since they wanna clam up.”

Leon sighed, turning to head back to the car where he had you locked inside. Or so he thought. He cocked his head over to see that outside of his back passenger window hung your clear platform heels still strapped on your feet as you undoubtedly slept. Your ankles were crossed as they fell over the side of the car, and he sighed, watching other officers on their walkies give the sight a curious glance.

You'd just gotten off work, so he knew you were exhausted but leaving you to sleep alone at the house didn't sit well with him. He wanted to scold you for opening the window when he wanted the doors locked but he popped his head inside to rouse you awake softly,

“Can I ask a favor?”

You smiled in your sleep hearing that and murmured sleepily in a tease to encourage him to choose his words better,

“In front of everyone?...Hot.”

You reached your ankle up to rest atop his shoulder lewdly since he was leaned over into the cab, and the thought of your legs around him made him jump with a jitter of excitement. It was also embarrassment since there were others close by. But your long legs were one of the features he found the sexiest about you.

He chuckled and carefully put your legs back inside before opening the door. His palm meeting your thigh even momentarily made your skin crawl and your eyes opened. He leaned in the car to help you up from the backseat and you grumbled tiredly when he became face to face with you,

“You owe me breakfast for this.”

“You'll get whatever you want.” He assured you in a grunt as he pulled you forward.

Leon held the small of your back when you came to your feet. He walked you across the gravel lot and it felt endearing to be so protected beside him. You chuckled somewhat evilly as you followed close by behind him and replied before meeting the chief,

“Don't tell me that.”

~

That night, you heard Leon come home and he went straight to his bedroom that doubled as his office. You hated that he kept his work in his bedroom because it made him prone to not sleeping well. He'd get up all hours of the night to write something on his whiteboard or find a case note within one of his files.

He was working himself to death.

You made a meal downstairs, knowing the noise and the smell of food wouldn't even bother him. You made a small plate and brought it upstairs when it became almost midnight. You knocked on his door, letting him know you were coming in, but he stayed silent.

He sat with his MacBook in his lap at the foot of his bed, crouched on the floor in front of his rolling whiteboard. You sighed seeing all the case documents pinned to the dry-erase board, tiny scribbles of probably late night epiphanies surrounding each thumbtack and photograph.

This was insanity. He was working twenty four hours a day at this point and there was no way even a salary could be this rewarding.

“You've not eaten.” You told him, trying to entice him to at least come downstairs but he shook his head as it rested in his fingertips, telling you he was fine.

After setting down his plate, you came to lay in his bed for the first time. You had only been in this room a few times in the week past but never for this long. He turned his head slightly, only letting his eyes move to see you now spread on his duvets. Your red silk night slip trailed up your thigh as your knee stayed propped up and he softly bit the inside of his cheek to the sight. He wondered now if you wanted to keep him company, but right now, he just couldn't afford it.

“Le-” You said softly from atop his bed, calling him by his affectionate nickname,

“-you've been staring at the same thing for hours.”

“I'm missing something.” He muttered exhaustedly with his eyes glued to the board,

“I feel like it's right in front of me.”

He stood up, wincing to the pain in his back from sitting on hardwood and he continued to stare at that board that you wanted to roll into the hall and let fall down the stairs. Nothing would get solved with him running himself into the ground and you wished he knew it too.

“Killing yourself in exchange for a breakthrough isn't going to make the mayor lick your boots any harder, yanno?” You mentioned, turning your eyes in his direction as you faced his ceiling.

“It's not….just the mayor-” Leon groaned, rubbing his shoulder as it ached from sitting so long.

You were surprised by that comment. He always mentioned making the mayor of the city happy as being his number one goal. It seemed different now and your interest was piqued. But you remained at ease on his mattress, feeling as he sat beside you with a huff.

You rolled onto your stomach, growing closer to him on the bed as you asked from your curiosity that had grown,

“Then what else are you looking for? Because you've got quite the monkey on your back for a cop not even close to retiring, not yet at the peak of his career and not graced with a woman at home to warm his bed at night.”

Leon looked over, wondering if you'd made your punchline yet and you finished with a sigh as he gave that look when he was becoming unenthused.

“You're on the brink of a burnout, Leon. Take a break- I don't care if we just eat ice cream in our pajamas and talk shit. You need it.”

Leon half smiled, not quite ready to give in, then lied on the bed opposite to you. You watched as he covered his tired eyes with the heels of his palms most likely from his exhaustion. Quietly, you rose from the mattress and turned off his overhead light. Your steps were quiet as you traveled back to the bed with an idea in easing his frustration.

He felt you crawl back into the bed, but suddenly and careful, you sat now on top of him in the dark. He called out your name but all too late as you were determined now to do something about the world of stress he carried.

“Tell me how I can help you. Since you won't tell me why you're so strung out on working to death.” You whispered from above him and he squirmed feeling your warmth and weight on top of him once again. Something he missed after he'd had it once.

You planted your palms down on either side of his torso, leaning towards him in a way that ignited his many feelings of finally indulging in what it might feel like to touch you. Something he still wasn't committed to doing before this work was done. But he couldn't ignore this anymore. The want for you now gnawed at him more than this workload.

He rose slightly, propping up on his elbows as he looked up to you in the dark. Your hand gently petted his chest and he felt the fire in his belly that had been burning since the moment he first saw you. He sat up straight, keeping his eyes up as finally he let his hands touch you more intentional and slow when he wrapped your legs around him.

Your ankles locked behind him, and your face softened realizing that he wasn't holding back now. He was letting go slowly. He wet his lips as he held your waist against him, making you wrap your arms around him too when your heart raced in the thought of actually kissing him.

He held your chin, taking the last breath he needed to convince himself to do something this crazy. Your lips met almost unsurely, he stopped only for another second before he finally let himself close his eyes. You kissed him gently at first until his hands shook as they cupped around your curves from behind, gripping the roundness of your ass when he felt it under your slip.

Softly, you moaned as he poured more of himself into the embrace and your fingers tangled into his bedhead. His mouth was soft like petals on the inside of a flower and your heart felt soft too at their touch. You breathed heavily and felt as his mouth moved low, kissing under your jaw then lower to your neck.

He rested his forehead in the center of your chest, not willing to move forward because he knew he'd have you all night…. and into the morning. The desire was too strong. His breath was panting from the labor his heart was performing to beat so quickly. You held him against you to steady him, feeling yourself begin to shake now in a sense of amazement.

“I'm doing this for you-” He said in the quiet between you and the silence only met with both of your racing pulses,

“Fuck the city. Fuck the mayor- I just don't wanna sleep…. knowing there's someone out there waiting to put you next on their list. And I'm not gonna stop until they're cuffed or dead. Whichever's fastest.”

Your brow furrowed from the sincerity he had and you tried not to let your lip quiver. In your line of work, you were always thrown away after use. One face to the next and here you sat in the lap of someone wanting to save you again and again. You half smiled, nodding in understanding that if in fact you were falling in love with him before this, you had in fact fallen face first now.

He thought you must've been stuck on what to say before you brought your hands up to his face. Your thumbs brushed his cheek as you said murmured and soft,

“You're gonna have a lot more to worry about if you keep talking to me like that. Like how you're ever gonna peel me offa you after you nab this guy.”

“I think I could convince you.” Leon mentioned with a growing smile to finally participate in the back and forth of your playful banter as he looked to your lips again, growing needful for another kiss.

“Yeah?-” You asked before obliging him with a flirtatious wink as you leaned in to kiss him,

“You'll need a warrant, pig.”

He chuckled amidst your hurried kiss now, making you hum happily in the enjoyment of feeling his smile against your lips. He felt calmer already. Your kiss and your heat to warm him was like a heal-all. As you felt him level back to reality, you knew you wanted this always and it felt burned into you like a brand now.

You wondered in that moment, unbeknownst to him, if maybe you had the chance to be the woman warming his bed, awaiting his retirement - riding through the peak of his career. Because tonight felt like a taste. And there was no amount of money that could buy it. Even if you worked in that club as hard as he did in this room. 》

[neomujinjja]

Lifetime of Moments

Pairing: Non-idol!Anton x reader

Length: 1,886 words Genre: fluff, slight angst

Warning: not edited, very long, children*, major character death

Synopsis: Anton retells the story of him and his life partner through the important moments of their time together

Note: this is heavily inspired by the movie 'A man named Otto'. * I don't mention pregnancy or bringing children back from the hospital to ensure gender neutrality and be inclusive. I also use the abbreviation P/T to stand for Parental Term. But I wanted to give a warning either way for people.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"I'm sorry!" a voice rushed out, the owner not sparing a look back towards Anton. They seemed to be in a rush, a book falling out of their arms.

"Oh! You dropped your book." Anton called out but it seemed as the person couldn't hear him. The boy picked up the book and ran after its reader. Luckily, Anton hadn't lost them in the small crowd of people. He reached out to tap their shoulder as they stopped at a cross walk. "Hey, you dropped this back in the cafe." he explained as he handing the item over. The two's figures brushing over one another's.

"Thank you!~ I'm halfway through and I would hate not knowing how it ends," They smiled at Anton, looking into his eyes. And he swears that they were the prettiest person that he's ever seen. "You're my hero! Is there a chance that I could get your name?" they inquired, beginning to rock back and forth on their heels. "Mine's Y/N".

"I'm Anton. Lee Anton." He replied, returning a shy smile of his own.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Anton. Maybe we'll see each other again one day" Y/N said. Anton was enamored with the way his name came out of their mouth. They gave him a thumbs up before crossing to the other side of the street, weaving their way through the mass of people.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton began hanging around the cafe more often after his encounter with Y/N. It wasn't just because he wanted to see them again, it was convenient cause the cafe was close to Anton's college and gym. The perfect spot to wait for classes and get something before practice. If Anton happened to bump into you there then that was a bonus.

He was waiting in line when he received a tap on his shoulder. "I thought that was you, Anton." Y/N said giving the male in front of them a big grin.

"Hi, Y/N" he greeted breathily, Y/N looked breath-taking despite wearing a hoodie and sweats. Anton admittedly was surprised that they had remembered him and his name.

"I'm sorry for rushing off without properly thanking you last time. Let me make it up to you," Y/N told him. Anton began shaking his head in protest. It wasn't a big deal to him and he was happy just knowing that they remembered him. "Nonsense, let me take you to dinner. It's the least I could do for my hero" They cut off any of Anton's protest as they pulled out a notebook. He watched them write a series of numbers before then ripping the page. "That's my number, we can discuss where and when later."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton paid his fair before quickly leaving the cab. He was running behind but he hopefully hadn't kept them waiting long. Anton had texted you but he hadn't checked his phone for a response. A breathe of relief left him at the sight of Y/N waiting outside the agreed upon restaurant. "I'm glad you're still here!"

"I told you, I was taking you out. If anything I should've been worried that you were gonna bail." They responded opening the door for the male. The place seemed relatively fancy but not so that eating would break the bank. "I hope you're into Italian food, Mr. Anton cause this is the fanciest I can afford" Y/N joked as the pair walked into the restaurant. Anton felt so comfortable in Y/N's presence, he was able to joke and laugh freely with them. It was as if he could talk with them for hours.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton felt like he was on cloud 9 and was buzzing from the energy in the crowd. The male had broken a personal record at the swim meet just minutes before. He and Y/N walked hand-in-hand out of the stadium. "Anton," Y/N pulled him to the side, away from the crowd. They took both of his hands in theirs and swung them between the pair. "Will you marry me?" They asked the man in front of them. "We've been together for 4 years, and I know I love you and want to be together with you for the rest of my life." Y/N continued, rubbing circles on the back of Anton's hands.

Anton pulled them into a hug, bringing their heads together. "Of course, I want to marry you" he responded.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"This is the last one" Y/N said as they set the last box down.

"And now it's officially our place" Anton said back as he wrapped his arms around them. Y/N hummed in agreement and leaned back onto their husband. "Imagine what it'll be like once we're all settled in." The pair swayed as they took a break before they'd begin unpacking.

"Where should we start first? The Kitchen...The Living Room?" Y/N asks turning to face the male. "The bedroom?" They continued as they jokingly wiggled their eyebrows at Anton. He laughs and plants a kiss onto their forehead.

"Let's start in the bedroom and then work towards the kitchen and living room" The male proposes. The duo separate and begin unpacking the boxes.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Ushering in, the pair quietly and tiredly walked through the door. Y/N makes their way towards the couch and sets the baby carrier down. They take out their son and place him in the bouncer. Anton joins after putting their bags into the couple's laundry room. "He's so small and precious" Y/N whispers as they looked over their child.

"He's all ours to love" Anton responds bringing his partner closer to his side. Sniffling was heard making the male turn. "Why are you crying?" Anton asked as he wiped their tears away. "Are you okay?" He continued with worry in his voice.

"I'm okay" They nodded, sniffling some more. "We have a baby. We're parents." Y/N says taking Anton's hands in theirs.

The male laughed "Yeah, we sure are". He pulled his partner into a hug.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"How was the zoo, you guys?" Y/N asked as Anton and the boys walked in. They got an arm full of Teo, their oldest son, once he was fully inside.

"P/T we saw so many animals. And there was even an animal that was like Kori. It stayed on its parent's back" He tells you excitedly about the animals the three saw at the zoo.

"A Koala" Anton informed the young boy as he took his second son out of their sling. "Did you tell P/T about your favorite exhibition yet?" He asks the toddler as he lets the baby onto the play mat. Anton walks over to his partner, giving them a peck on the lips despite Teo's protest.

"Appa! You can't give P/T a kiss before I give them one!" the young boy says pushing his dad away. Teo wrapped his tiny arms around his other parent and begins placing kisses on their face. Laughter came out from the adult couple at the toddler's actions.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton turns and reaches out to his partner's side. He opens his eyes when he doesn't feel anything. The male gets up out of the bed, puts his house shoes on and begins looking around their home. Anton checks on the boys' room after looking in the bathroom and the kitchen-living room combo with no avail. Teo and Kori are both deep asleep with tiny snores coming out of their mouth. He closes the door softly then proceeds to the nursery. There he finds Y/N in the rocking chair with their youngest June. Anton lets out a sigh of relief upon the sight. He walks towards his partner and their child. "Y/N, come back to bed. Let's put Junie back in her crib" The male whispers rubbing their back.

"Did I fall asleep?" Y/N asks groggily with a confused look on their face. Anton nods as he helps them get up from the rocking chair. The duo quietly set June back in her crib, double checking the monitor before heading out of the room. He rubs Y/N's back as the couple walk back to their room. They get into the bed and Anton cuddles into his partner. Now he can fall back asleep knowing that all of his family is safe.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N and Anton sit outside, enjoying the fresh evening air. "It's quiet, isn't it?" Y/N says after a moment. "With all of the kids officially out, it's quiet" They continued as they sipped their tea.

"It's odd, right? We haven't had a quiet moment to yourselves since we brought Teo home" Anton says with a laugh. He grabs his partner's hand, over the years they've both gained wrinkles.

"Should we call them?" Y/N jokes and the duo laugh. With a sigh, Y/N continues "I understand how our parents felt when we moved out".

Anton hums before shaking his head. "No, we can bother them some other time. Let's just enjoy the silence for now."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Anton held his partner's hand as they laid in the bed. The low hum of the machines in the background. "Anton..." Y/N spoke lowly, their voice sounded parched and croaky.

"Yes, Y/N?" He responded with his full attention. Anton gripped tighter at his spouse's hand with love in his eyes.

"I don't want to leave you and the kids. We were supposed to be together for the rest of our lives." Y/N said looking into Anton's eyes. He tries to interrupt but they stop him from speaking. "I'm sorry Anton. I'm gonna have to leave first" they continued before turning to their children. "Take care of your Appa for me. I love you, my babies and I'm so proud to have raised the three of you. You've all done such great things with your life, and I know you'll continue to do so." Y/N tells them before a coughing fit starts.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Y/N was the love of my life. There was no one else like them. I pretty much fell in love with them as soon as I first met them." Anton pauses with a sigh and chuckle.

"Mr. Lee, that sweet. Did you think you'd end up dating and marrying them too?" the home nurse asked the elderly man.

"No," He shook his head "I didn't. I always thought of myself as a lucky man to be with them. I was just happy that Y/N wanted to be around me." Anton says with a smile on his face. The home nurse also smiled at the man's statement.

"I wish that I can have a love like yours one day, Mr. Lee" She tells him. She's had been helping take care of the elderly man for a few years now. She had seen the pictures and heard a few stories but today she asked about Mr. Lee's love life with his spouse. The home nurse listened and watched as the man eyes and voice were full of love as he spoke about his life partner. Anton laughs and smiles as he wishes the home nurse luck. "Do you miss them, Mr. Lee?" she asks with curiosity.

Anton hums and nods before answering "Everyday".

[foreverrandomwritings]

Honey, Honey

Summary: Based off this ask for my Taste of Twenty-Five event. All the reasons Bob really loves his truck in chronological order.

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Afab!Reader

Warnings: Reader has a service dog for unspecified food allergy. Illness, death(not Bob or reader), swearing, the training exercise accident and smut at the end. MDNI 18+ only!

Word count: 6,560 (I got a bit carried away)

Masterlist M's Taste of Twenty-Five Masterlist

Bob’s truck meant the world to him. He had been obsessed with it growing up. He’d ride around in the cab with his grandpa around town. They’d have the windows rolled down and would be listening to an old blues tape. The cup holders always had two cups of sweet tea in them. There was a picture of his nan in the visor and Bob always dreamt about having a picture of his future girl up there. His grandpa took great pride in his truck. Bob remembered all the times they would be in the garage with him handing him tools and turning over the key when he was told to.

“Can you hand me that wrench?” Bob grabbed the wrench quickly and handed it over to his grandpa. There had been a gurgling noise when they had run up town and when his grandpa asked Bob if he wanted to help find out the problem Bob jumped at the opportunity. 

“Bobby boy go ahead and turn it over for me.” His grandpa called from his place under the hood. 

“Okay pops.” Little Bobby wasn’t even tall enough to reach the pedals but he could reach the key. He jumped into the truck and pushed the key into the ignition. Excitement was coursing through his little body as he turned the key and the engine came to life. He loved that truck then because it was something him and his grandpa bonded over. 

Then eventually his grandpa got sick and wasn’t able to drive the truck anymore and it sat and sat and sat. Until his grandpa passed away at the beginning of his junior year of high school. His grandpa had left the truck to Bob in his will. So Bob got a job as a busboy up in town that he would juggle between school and helping out on the farm. 

He saved up all his money and during the summer between junior year and senior year he fixed up the truck. He had it repainted the vibrant green it used to be. He had a strict schedule written down in a little notebook he kept in the glove box on when to change the oil, the tires and all the maintenance he’d done. He loved that truck then because it was a small piece of his grandpa he’d always have with him. 

Then when he went off to college he had packed up the bed and made the solo trip with one of those old blues tapes and a glass of sweet tea in the cup holder. When nights would get stressful due to exams or work or missing home he’d climb into that truck and go driving, never having anywhere in mind. He’d flip that visor down and look at the blank spot where the picture of his nan used to be and dream of a day he could add his own picture up there. He loved the truck then because it was a piece of home. 

Eventually that truck moved to and from different bases depending on where he was deployed. He never owned much so it was always easy to pack everything up in the bed and take those solo trips. He’d occasionally look in the passenger seat and wish there was someone there enjoying the old blues tapes that filled the glove box. He loved the truck then because of all the possibilities it made him hopeful for. 

The first time he ever met you he’d been driving to the farmers market early one Saturday morning to get some groceries for the week. He always liked to be one of the first ones there as it was always quieter and he could go booth to booth at a good pace. There was also a booth with tea, coffee and baked goods that opened before all the others that he liked to go to first thing. 

He was only about ten minutes away when he spotted you. You were on the side of the road, phone pressed between your ear and shoulder staring at the smoke billowing out of your hood. He pulled over behind you and clumsily climbed out of the truck. He adjusted his glasses and made his way over to where you were standing. You weren’t alone either, you had a cute little gray and white pitbull sitting next to you that looked at him curiously upon his approach. One ear was mostly gone and its tail looked a bit short as well. Bob noticed he wore a service dog vest. 

“Please don’t put me on hold again.” Your voice was pleading but you let out a large huff of air, rubbing your fingers into your temple. Bob guessed whoever was on the other line had indeed put you on hold. Bob cleared his throat awkwardly and your eyes snapped open from where you had closed them. 

“Uhm. Hello?” You greeted him, he could see clear confusion on your face, which was very pretty he might add.

“I noticed you were having some trouble and I was wondering if I could help out in any way?” His hand was rubbing at the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Oh. Do you happen to know anything about cars?” The look on your face now was pure hope. The dog beside you was wagging its tail but remained sitting in its spot. 

“I know a thing or two.” He responded and your eyes lit up. Something he decided he wanted to see again. When you started talking again he took that moment to take you in. You were in a pair of worn medium wash jeans with the ankles rolled up and a pair of mustard yellow vans adorning your feet. His eyes looked over your cream shirt where a picture of bees and a jar of honey and a honeycomb sat, with a logo on it; Honey Bee & Comb. 

“It started making a weird clunking noise and then it just started billowing smoke. I barely got it to the side of the road before it shut off. I’m on the phone with a towing company but they keep putting me on hold.” You looked utterly defeated. But Bob gave you a reassuring smile and told you to pop your hood. You did as he said and opened your door to pull the lever. He pulled the hood up, turning his face to the side as the smoke barreled out and fogged up his glasses. He propped it open and backed up a few steps where you were once again standing. 

“Looks like it’s overheated, I have a friend that owns a body shop. He could give you a tow. I can call him right now if you’d like?” Then there was that light in your eyes again. 

“Would you mind? That would really help me out. I’ve been on the phone with these guys for about thirty minutes now.” You waved the phone out in front of you dramatically. He assured you it was fine and pulled his own phone out and pulled up the contact. You hung up your phone and two rings later and the person on the other end answered. 

“Hey Shawn. Would you be able to head out here to Weston street? I have a woman here with me that’s got a broken down car.” You waited as the person responded, looking him over he was wearing a pair of dark wash jeans, worn boots and a navy blue ford t-shirt with a flannel over it. You thought he was the prettiest man you’d ever seen. 

“Alright, I’ll see ya soon.” You quickly looked away as the blonde hung up so he wouldn’t catch you staring. 

“He said he’ll be here in fifteen.” He informed you as he slipped his phone back in his pocket. Your shoulders sagged as you let out some of the stress. 

“Thank you so much….” You trailed off looking at him expectantly. 

“Robert.” He winced as he said it. Because he hasn’t had someone call him that in years. 

“Well thank you Robert.” His name rolled off your tongue and he almost groaned at how sweet it sounded. 

“I’m Y/N, this is Lewis.” You said gesturing to the dog who still sat in the same spot since Bob had walked up. Silence grew between you for a moment as you both stared at each other. 

“Where are you heading to?” Bob hoped you didn’t think he was a creep asking that. But you only gave him a smile and hooked a thumb over your shoulder pointing behind you. 

“Heading to the farmers market.” Bob lit up at the reply. 

“I’m heading that way as well.” You cocked your head and seemed to take him in once again. 

“Oh yea. I’ve seen you around. You’re one of the few early ones.” Bob nodded his head a blush dusting his cheeks and neck at the fact that you had noticed him. 

“Seems as though you are as well.” Though Bob hadn’t remembered seeing you before. 

“I have a booth there so it’s kind of implied that I get there early.” You didn’t seem disappointed that he hadn’t seen you. Which he was thankful for because he didn’t want to disappoint you. 

“What’s your booth?” His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to rack his brain. 

“I sell bee made products, honey, beeswax candles, chapstick and what not.” You waved your hand over your shirt and he finally made the connection. He’d seen your booth but had never gone over because his ma always sent him honey when she shipped him stuff from home. 

“Do you want to load your stuff into my truck? I can take you to the market since I’m already going there anyway.” He was really really hoping you would say yes. You fortunately told him yes and you both loaded up all your stuff into the bed of his truck. Lewis sat in the cab patiently as you loaded everything up. Shawn ended up coming shortly after and towed your car off. Reassuring you he’d have it looked at by the end of the day. In the ride to the market Bob informed you that Shawn was his front seater Michaels husband. 

After Bob helped you set up your booth even though you told him he didn’t need to worry about it. He offered to take you home as well, to which you thanked him and informed him that a friend of yours that had a booth would be taking you home. As you watched his face fall you had nervously asked him if he would like to go to dinner one night that week. He very quickly told you yes. You swapped numbers and then parted ways. He loved his truck that day because without it he probably wouldn’t have been able to help you. 

On your first date he picked you and Lewis up in his truck. Where he had jumped out and rounded the hood to open your door for you. He had given you a bag of treats for Lewis and a compliment on how gorgeous you looked. You spoke about random things including how you had rescued Lewis from a local shelter and put him through service dog training for your food allergy, until you got to the restaurant. Dinner went amazingly and before you both knew it you were in his truck heading back to your house. 

The windows were rolled down and you were humming along to the blues tape that was playing quietly. The cool autumn air was whipping through your hair but you didn’t seem to mind. Even when it got stuck in your chap-stick that coated your lips. When he came around to open the door for you again and you stepped out you asked him very sweetly if you could kiss him and he sheepishly nodded his head. Then he proceeded to lean you up against the truck and kiss you both utterly breathless. He loved the truck then because it was where he had found the feeling of home again in the form of you. 

You’d been dating a few months at this point. He had awkwardly asked you one day if you wanted to go steady with him. Your cheeks had gotten all warm and you gave him a sweet smile and a soft peck on the lips. Then you told him you’d love to go steady with him. The both of you had gotten into a routine of him coming to pick you up and take you to the farmers market on weekend mornings when he wasn’t deployed. 

This particular Sunday had been going like every other one had. You sat in your seat with Lewis between you though he was mostly laying on your lap. You’d picked out an old blues tape and had popped it into the stereo. You were petting Lewis on the head absentmindedly and occasionally sipping on your glass of sweet tea that was held in your other hand. 

You just passed by the spot you’d first met each other and a small smile formed on your lips. Your eyes turned to look at Bob to see him already glancing at you. Your eyes lit up and your smile got bigger and he felt his chest tighten and before he knew it he was spilling out three little words that made you feel like your bees at home were swarming in your stomach. 

“I love you.” He looked at you wide eyed once he realized what he had said. Was it too soon? Would you say it back? Would you leave him? Wait, why were you laughing? The sound of your laugh flowed through him and had him blinking slowly as he stopped at a stop sign and stared at you in bewilderment. 

“I love you too Bob.” You told him before leaning over and planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He took a deep breath and tried to hide the blush that was taking over his face by looking back at the road. But from the way you were looking at him he knew that you saw it. He loved the truck then because you loved him. 

You and Lewis came and picked him up in his truck after one of his deployments. Your car had been acting up again and Bob had insisted you use his truck while he was gone. You knew how much the truck meant to him so you made sure to take great care of it while he was away. You drove the three of you back to your house where Bob had moved into before he left for deployment. Lewis laid in his lap and he pet the dog on the head as he admired how breathtaking you looked driving his truck. 

Once you got home you and Bob reacquainted yourselves with each other before starting on dinner. You had thought you’d had all the ingredients for said dinner but had forgotten to pick up one thing from the store. Bob offered to run up the street to grab it and you told him you could make something else but he assured you that he was up for the short trip. Lewis went with him because he didn’t wanna leave his side. Plus in the safety of your home you didn’t need to worry about your food allergy. 

The sun was still shining so he flipped the visor down and was pleasantly surprised to see a Polaroid picture of you and Lewis in the bed of his truck. You had a large smile on your lips and Lewis had his head tilted to the camera in an absolutely adorable way. Bob couldn’t help the smile that took over his face. 

“I’m gonna marry her one day.” He told Lewis who responded with a soft bark and wag of his tail. Bob loved his truck then because he finally had a picture of you in the place he always wanted one. 

Bob had been super secretive and awkward for a couple of weeks now. You hadn’t thought much of it though, you trusted him more than you trusted anyone else so you figured he had a good reason for the way he was acting. When he asked if you would like to accompany him and Lewis on a secret date you had enthusiastically told him yes. So you had both driven out to a field that Bob had found one day on a hike that was accessible by vehicle as well. 

He made you sit in the cab as he and Lewis got everything set up in the bed of the truck. Why he needed Lewis’ help was lost on you but you just shrugged and took in the view around you. It was such a pretty spot and you understood why Bob loved it so much. You climbed out of the truck when Bob called for you. You gasped when you saw what he had set up. He had laid out a bunch of blankets and pillows. A variety of foods and drinks were spread around. He had lined the side rails with strings of lights. Bob asked you to sit next to Lewis so you did and then noticed he had something in his mouth. 

“What do you have there, boy?” You asked him, holding out your hand waiting for him to drop whatever it was. But what you weren’t expecting was a ring box. You turned to Bob with wide eyes only to see him down on one knee and a nervous smile on his face. 

“I have been completely head over heels for you since the first day I saw you on the side of the road. I couldn’t imagine my life without you honey. Would you go steady with me for the rest of our lives?” The flashback to him asking if you wanted to go steady had you giggling as tears streamed down your face. You couldn’t get any words out so you resorted to nodding your head frantically. 

He reached out a hand and you handed him the box. He opened it to get the ring out and you sobbed at how perfect it was. It was absolutely everything you wanted in a ring. He slipped it onto your finger and as soon as it was settled you were pulling him towards you. Your lips crashed against his and you could feel the mix of yours and his tears in the kiss but you didn’t mind.

“I love you so much Robert.” Slipped out of your lips when you finally pulled away. 

“I love you too Honey.” He whispered to you and then peppered your face in kisses. The rest of the night went by spectacularly, you had dinner and the three of you cuddled up and watched the stars for hours. Bob sat against the truck with you between his legs and Lewis between your own. Your head laid on his shoulder then your breath evened out and he loved his truck then because you said yes. 

You guys had decided to have a small wedding. It was his friends Michael and Shawn whom you had grown close to. Your friend who took you home that first day you and Bob met was ordained so they married the two of you. And of course there was Lewis. You decided for your honeymoon you’d drive up to finally meet his family. 

Which is exactly what you did. Even though you’d met them through FaceTime and phone calls you’d never met them in person. You knew how much they meant to Bob so you were buzzing with excitement the whole way to Lima, Montana. 

Everything was going smoothly. You left early Saturday morning hoping to get there by Saturday night. It was Bob's turn to nap so he was. His head was on a pillow leaning against the window on the door. Lewis had his head in his lap and was sleeping as well. Then suddenly Bob was being woken up with a gentle touch on his shoulder. He blinked his eyes open slowly and grabbed his glasses from the dash before finally focusing on you. When his eyes landed on your face he was suddenly fully awake. You had silent tears streaming down your face and looked at him fearfully. 

“What’s wrong honey?” He asked you softly, reaching out to grab your hand. When he got ahold of it he felt you shaking and that only worried him more. He looked around quickly and noticed you were pulled over on the side of a back road. 

“I’m sorry.” Was all you said with a sad voice. 

“What’re you sorry for?” You looked down at where your hands were intertwined and mumbled out your reply. 

“We have a flat tire and a large scratch down the side of the truck.” He furrowed his brow at you in confusion because when in the hell did that happen? 

“What happened honey?” He unbuckled his seat belt and scooted closer to you causing Lewis to switch him seats. 

“Just come and look.” You told him and opened your door climbing out and he followed you. When he got out and saw the large scratch in the green paint down the side of the truck he couldn’t stop the gasp that slipped through his lips. A sob left your own mouth and his eyes quickly found you again.

“I’m really sorry, I was following behind a truck and he had a bunch of stuff in his bed. I thought I was far enough back that if anything flew out I wouldn’t be within range of being hit. But a piece of barbed wire came out and I just couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. It popped the tire and scratched up the side.” You took a deep breath before continuing, your fingers danced along the scratched paint sadly. “I know how much you love this truck. I really love it too and I’m so so sorry that this happened.” 

“Oh honey.” He said softly, taking you in his arms and kissing your head. He breathed in the smell that was uniquely you and took a moment to gather his thoughts. 

“It’s okay honey, we’ll put the spare on and once we get to my parents we’ll go into town and get them to replace the tires. Then we’ll have Shawn fix the paint when we get home. I’m just happy that we are all safe, you handled the situation perfectly.” He ran his hand down your back as you calmed your crying. You guys then changed to the spare Bob had been thoughtful enough to pack in the bed. You got into town late and met his family who all completely adored you. 

The next day you went into town to the only mechanics there was. You paced the lobby until they came out with the keys and told you everything was taken care of and you were good to go. You practically ran out to the truck and Bob loved the truck then because you loved it just as much. 

When Bob had gone down in the training exercise with Phoenix he hadn’t planned on telling you until after the mission. Which may have sounded awful because you were his wife after all. But he just didn’t want you to worry over nothing. However what he didn’t know was that Maverick had called to inform you and that you were on your way up to see him. 

He was in the middle of a conversation with Phoenix, whom he was sharing a room with when he heard familiar tapping of claws in the hallway. Before he could process what exactly that meant Lewis came bolting into the room and jumped onto his bed. Then you came running in behind him. He stared at you with wide eyes as you ran up to him and cupped his face looking him over for injury. 

“Honey, what’re you doing here?” He blinked at you slowly as he started to pet Lewis’ head. 

“Someone named Maverick called, he told me your plane had gone down during an exercise today. I was worried and just needed to see you. I also figured you wouldn’t tell me until you got back home and I couldn’t handle waiting. I need to see with my own eyes that you were alright.” It was a light scolding but he still blushed nonetheless. Then you gave him a soft kiss and stood back up. 

“How’s Michael, Shawn and the babies?” You knew he was changing the subject to avoid you scolding him anymore. But you let him do it anyway. Plus talking about his previous front seater and his new family members would cheer you both up. When Michael’s contract came back up he had decided not to reenlist because he and his husband Shawn were in the process of adopting and it would be an easier transition if Michael was a stay at home dad. 

“They are doing amazing. Michael is slowly adjusting to no longer being in the service, Shawn is glad to have him home. The triplets have been a handful since they picked them up from the hospital. They are all absolutely adorable, especially Robert.” Your smile was bright as you told him a bit more about the family. They had named one of two boys after him.  Then when you stopped talking you finally turned to the other person in the room. She looked terrified when your eyes met her own. 

“You’re Phoenix right? His front seater for this mission?” She glanced between you and Bob and Bob gave her a small nod. 

“Uhm yes. I-I’m really sor-.” But before she could finish her guilt ridden apology you were right next to her bed. 

“Are you okay? Do you need me to call anyone for you?” She choked on air at the way you were now dotting on her. She looked at Bob and he had a wide smile on his face and adoration in his eyes. 

“I’m okay. I called my fiancé already, so she knows I’m okay.” Bob looked sheepish as you both turned to glare at him when she said that. 

“Can I hug you?” You were bouncing on the balls of your feet, you just really felt the need to comfort her.  

“Uh yes.” She stuttered out and then she was wrapped up in your arms. She hadn’t realized she really needed a hug until then. You held her until she let go. 

“Thank you for keeping my husband safe.” You told her after pulling away. As Bob looked at you he loved his truck because it brought him, you. 

A couple of weeks after the mission the dagger Squad were all given the option of moving to Fightertown permanently. They would be their own squad indefinitely. Bob had asked you immediately what your thoughts were. He wasn’t sure you’d go for it since your life was in Lemoore. But you assured him you’d love to move there if he would. Because he didn’t have a front seater in Lemoore. Plus from what he had told you the rest of the Dagger Squad worked beautifully together once they got over bad blood. 

So you guys took a couple weeks to pack up then you were heading off to Fightertown. You had your bees in the bed of the truck, a whole bunch of things in the U-Haul hitched to the truck. All the bigger items had been picked up by the navy movers. You’d decided to sell your junk ass car to Shawn who was gonna fix it up and sell it at his shop. You’d also promised to come back and visit them often, as well as your friends and family that lived there. Selling your house in Lemoore and buying a house with plenty of land in Fightertown had been surprisingly easy. 

“Lewis is gonna have quite the time getting to know everyone and getting allocated to a new home. You said that Mav’s girlfriend has a dog right?” The only part of this you were nervous about was Lewis. Since you’d had him you’d only ever lived in one place. He had made friends at your local dog park as well as other dogs that had been in your service dog training courses. 

“Yea, his name is Theo. I think they’ll get along great. Plus I think Lewis will love Paybacks kids. We could also go to one of the shelters in town and find him a friend.” Bob had been doing a search for another dog already but he just hadn’t told you. He’d even found a dog that you guys could go and pick up in a week. She was a pitbull lab mix that had been surrendered by her previous owners because they were moving and claimed they couldn’t take her with them. Funnily enough her name was Bee, which Bob thought you would absolutely adore. 

You started to excitedly rant about how amazing it would be to get another dog. Then about how excited you were to meet everyone. Bob glanced at you and saw the way the sun was shining through the window on your face. You looked like a dream and Bob couldn’t help but love that his truck was taking you both to a future that held so many possibilities for the both of you. 

Bob didn’t really understand what had gotten into you but you just couldn’t seem to keep your hands off him. You’d had dinner with Phoenix and her fiancé which had become a regular occurrence. Phoenix and her fiancé had taken extreme care in the food they prepared so you hadn’t worried about bringing Lewis and Bee. Your eyes however hadn’t left his form all night. Every time he’d glance at you he’d find your eyes already glued to him. When you were saying goodbye to the duo you’d made it quick and were dragging Bob out of their house.  

Now here you were with a hand down his pants slowly stroking his cock and sucking bruises into the skin of his neck. He was concentrating very hard on keeping control of the truck on the road. You weren’t very far from your house which he was grateful for. He let out a low moan as you ran your thumb along the tip of his cock and gathered the precum that was leaking from it. 

“Honey.” He muttered out, you nipped at his neck gently before pulling away and looking at him with lust filled eyes. He groaned as he took in the sight of your swollen lips. 

“We’re almost home Bob, just pay attention to the road.” So that’s what he did: he kept both hands on the steering wheel and both eyes on the road as you resumed your assault on his neck. Your hand continued to slowly pump his cock, your thumb brushing the tip every so often. A low moan would leave his lips every time. 

When he turned onto the long gravel driveway lined by trees that lead back to your house your hand slipped out of his pants, you unbuckled your seat belt and positioned yourself so you were kneeling on the seat. You worked quickly to unzip his pants and pull his boxers down enough to slip his cock free. Your hand then was replaced by your lips and he couldn’t help himself as one of his hands left the steering wheel and found its way into your hair. He helped guide you up and down his length. You gagged as he hit the back of your throat before pulling up and going back down. 

The truck came to a stop as he rolled up to the front of the house and his hand left your hair to shift it into park. He fumbled to snatch the keys out and slip them into his pocket. His head tipped back as your tongue swirled around his tip. He muttered your name quietly, not really sure what he was asking for. He felt himself getting close but he wasn’t ready for this to be over just yet so he gently guided your mouth away from his cock. When you were sitting up his lips met your own in a rushed pace, he was eager to taste your lips and moaned at the taste of him on your tongue as you slipped it passed his lips. 

“Bob, please.” The request was a whisper on your lips as you pulled away. He knew what you were asking for without you needing to say anything. 

“Take off your pants honey.” He slipped his cock back into his underwear but kept his pants unzipped. He fumbled while opening his door before stumbling out and watching with hooded eyes as you maneuvered out of your shoes and pants and threw them on the floor of the truck. 

He took a second to take in how pretty you looked, your hair a mess, lips swollen, a wet patch forming on your underwear from how aroused you were. The look of complete lust on your face had his control slipping. He grabbed both of your ankles and yanked your body toward him. Your ass was on the edge of the seat.  His hands found your panties and slipped them down your legs and tucked them into the pocket of his jeans. You were practically vibrating in anticipation as you waited for him to make a move. 

Right as you opened your mouth to beg for his touch he was on you. His tongue slipped between your folds, one of your hands shot for his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as a loud moan left your mouth. He was bent over at the hips and his knees were slightly bent but he didn’t care that he’d probably wake up a bit sore from the awkward angle. All he cared about was that you tasted sweeter than the slice of cheesecake you’d shared for dessert. Really you tasted better than anything he could ever imagine. So he told you so, pulling his mouth away he replaced his tongue with his fingers, slipping them in and out of you languidly. 

“Fuck honey, you taste sweeter than anything I’ve ever had before.” He sucked a bruise into your thigh leaving a feather light kiss over it. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever find anything sweeter than you. Love you so much. ” He sucked a bruise into the inside of your other thigh, running his tongue over the skin to soothe it. You weren’t sure if the cry of his name leaving your lips was because of the words he was whispering or because of the way his mouth found its way back to your cunt. His lips found your clit and sucked on it delicately. His fingers curled and found that spot in you that had you letting out a mumbled string of curses. 

“Bobby, feels so good.” You whined as his tongue flicked your clit. “So close, I-I-I’m so close.” The words were barely making any sense but you hoped he understood. Your fingers that were still in his hair gripped tighter and with one more curl of his fingers you hit your climax and felt like you were flying, your hips had a mind of their own as they bucked against his face. Your legs tightened around his head and he took his time cleaning up every drop of cum you’d given him. 

When your legs finally relaxed, your hand leaving his head he pulled away and gave you a soft smile. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He rubbed soothing circles on your thighs with his thumbs and was about to suggest going inside before you whined a request at him. 

“Need you inside me.” You sounded utterly spent but who was he to deny you what you wanted. So he pulled his aching cock out of his boxers, situated himself at your entrance and as your legs wrapped around him he sunk into you. You both let out equally blissed moans as you settled into the feeling of euphoria. 

“You feel so fucking tight honey.” His country drawl was thick as he groaned out the words. His hair was sticking up all over the place and his glasses were crooked, his lips and chin were still wet with your arousal and suddenly you couldn’t stand being so far from him so you quickly sat up and wrapped your arms around his neck. He wrapped his own around your thighs and pulled you out of the truck. You were thankful you’d kept your shirt on as he leaned you against the side of the truck all while staying seated inside you.  

“Gonna move now.” He whispered to you before burying his face in your neck. He pulled himself almost all the way out and then thrust back in. It didn’t take him long to find a steady rhythm that felt good for the both of you. Your clit was getting a delightful friction everytime he moved and you were squeezing around him in a way that made him feel a little dizzy. 

“Bob, Bob.” His name fell from your lips like a prayer and the glasses wearing aviator almost fell to his knees as you slipped a hand into his hair and brought his lips to your own. They meshed together in a familiar dance, soft and practiced, yet still taking his breath away like the first time you’d kissed. His hands were squeezing your thighs as your tongues met each other and he swallowed the moan you let out as his thrusts began to stutter. 

His lungs needed to fill back up with air so he pulled away from your lips, nipping the bottom one with his teeth as he went. A whine left you at the loss of him. But he soothed you with sweet nothings as he got closer and closer to his climax. His forehead rested against yours. 

“Honey. I’m gonna, oh fuck, I’m gonna.” He could barely get the words out, but he wanted you to cum first. He was already so close from the edging you’d given him on the way home. 

“I’m close bob, m’gonna cum. Wanna feel you cum.” Your words were breathy and sounded like a plea. Your walls squeezed around him and he couldn’t stop it as his orgasm ripped through him. Your own following soon after. The both of you stood wrapped in each other's arms for a few moments, soaking in the feeling of being with one another.

The barking of your dogs from inside had you finally separating. Bob hissed slightly as he pulled out of you. He reached inside the truck and grabbed your pants and shoes before closing the door of the truck and walking you up to the porch. He set you down and let you slip your pants back on and take your shoes. Then you slipped the keys out of his pocket and opened the door. He turned and looked back, one thought in his mind as he shut the door behind him, he really loved that truck.

A/N: Thank you so so so so so much for being so patient while I got this done. I had such an amazing time writing this! Might've been just what I needed to get back into the groove of writing!

Taglist: @wkndwlff @sylviebell @kmc1989 @teacupsandtopgun @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming

[multi-fandom-simp]

Hello! I'd love to see Garrett from Twilight with a soulmate au! I'd love to see him with a human mate, he'd be such a smitten kitten for her for sure! I'm open to the clock running down and them meeting or the red string and finding each other, or other ideas if you have one in mind.

Please and thank you!!

(A/N: I had such a fun time writing this piece! Soulmate Au's are truly one of my favorites. Thank you for such a lovely request, I hope you enjoy the fic💕)

Forever? Forever.

Pairing: Garrett x Human! Reader

Soulmate! Au (red string)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the twilight characters, nor do I claim them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Summary: You had always been told your soulmate was dead. That your string was never fully red because they were no longer here. Imagine your surprise when your soulmate does exist..just as a vampire. A vampire that absolutely adores you at that.

‼️TW‼️: mentions of death, mentions of eating a bunny (should that be a warning, idk??)

Word Count: 2,034 (I got a bit carried away)

Everyone was born with a red string, one that connected you to your soulmate. Most people had it wrapped around their finger or their wrist, but not you. Your string sprouted from your wrist as if it grew within your very veins. Not only that, but the further the string got from you, the paler it got, almost as if it was losing color. Everyone had told you that it meant your soulmate was dead, or dying, but something told you otherwise.

Unlike everyone else, your string came with sensations. Not anything weird, just feelings. Feelings of warmth whenever your hands would shake, or a sudden chill whenever you had a fever, almost as if your soulmate was comforting you. Oddly enough these occurrences never bothered you, in fact, they made you feel less alone. 

You weren’t always alone. You had a family, friends, and past lovers, but it was never enough. Despite how great they were, they made you feel suffocated. You wanted more, so you got more. Within a night you had packed a suitcase and moved to Forks, Washington where you worked early shifts at the local diner, and took night classes at the local college. It was nothing fancy, but it made you feel alive. The rush of moving somewhere new, where no one knew your name or your face felt like a breath of fresh air. The feeling of running on a few hours of sleep so that you could fit work, class, and exploration into your day was euphoric…until it wasn’t. 

After a year you had grown bored of the quaint town. Its same blue hue became dull and the rush soon became tiring. The only thing you had left was the woods. Now, as ominous as it sounds, the woods in Forks seemed guarded. Somewhere you constantly felt watched but not in a horrifying, murderous way. The forests become your safe haven for early-morning readings and late-night strolls. 

..and also the place where you first met him.

It had been stormy that morning. The power at the diner had been knocked out and with no backup generator, they let the staff go home. You decided to take a cut through the forest instead of hailing a cab. Was it the best decision? Absolutely not, but you weren’t the only one who had made it. Halfway down your path, you stumbled upon a fellow holding a rabbit. His eyes found you before you found him. His eyes followed your red string back to his own. He was mated to a human, how fascinating. 

His thoughts seem to escape him for a moment as he murmured, “A human.”

“ An odd man” You shot back quickly. His mouth stretches into a grin at your wit. You clearly had some spunk to you, and he liked spunk. 

“This odd man does have a name. I’m Garrett, and you?” Garrett noticed that you had yet to take notice of the tautness of your string, of the connection it bore to him. Little did he know that you had given up on finding your soulmate after years of being told that they were dead. 

Ignoring his question, your eyes flickered down to the rabbit still in his hands, “ Why are you holding a rabbit?” 

“ I’m sheltering it from the rain” That was a lie. Garrett had intended to feed off of the bunny, as he hadn’t had a feeding since he arrived to help the Cullens. However, upon your scrutinizing gaze, he deemed it best to release the poor thing. It’s not as if the small creature would fulfill his diet anyway. 

“Right. Nice meeting you then, Garrett” The name tag on your uniform seemed to gleam at him through the rain as you began to walk away. 

“ I take it everything in town is closed down then?” Your eyes shot to Garrett’s in confusion while he continued, “Unless you normally parade through the forest in waitress attire.” 

“ A few places remain open, such as the hospital. Which is where I’ll end up if I don’t get out of this rain.” Despite the intrigue nagging at the back of your mind, you turned away from Garrett and continued on your way. Missing the way he grinned at your remark. 

“ It was nice meeting you as well!” Garrett called after you before murmuring to himself, “Let’s hope our paths cross again soon.” 

And soon it was. The second time you met Garrett he was sat on the floor of the town’s library. The floor of the romance section to be exact. His hair was dry this time, allowing you to see its naturally curly state. The only odd thing being the clothes he wore. They were the exact same pair you had seen him in days ago, and truthfully they looked like they were from another time. 

“Are you going to stare at me all day or actually speak to me?” Garrett turned his head to look at you. His eyes swept over your comfy attire with a small smile. You looked much more relaxed in your casual clothing than in a wet work uniform. 

“I wasn’t staring” You grumbled, “ I was just surprised to see you in the romance section is all.”

Garrett stood and dusted himself off, “ Meeting me in the forest one time is enough to tell you about my reading preferences? Besides, I wanted to see what keeps the romantics entertained these days” 

“Fair enough” You shrug. Your eyes scan the shelves for a moment before settling on the top row. You reach up for the book you wanted, but it remained just out of your reach. A warmth, like the one you often felt through your string, surrounded you from behind. Turning your head you saw Garrett reaching past you to grab the book with ease. 

He hands it down to you with a smirk, “ I believe this what you wanted, my lady” 

“Thank you” Your voice was quiet as it caught in the back of your throat. You weren’t meek by any means but his eyes had taken you off guard. They were red, not like the auburn shade his hair was, but a blood red. You pulled your eyes from his, trailing them over his pale skin until you reached his hands. A silent gasp left your lips as you noticed that Garret’s thread also sprouted from his wrist and that it was pale blue. You shifted your wrist in curiosity, waiting to see if Garrett’s thread would move. When it did your eyes snapped back up to his. Garrett was looking at you softly, yet intently. 

“Are you..” You couldn’t even bring yourself to say it. 

“-Dead?” Garrett finished. You nodded silently, awaiting an answer. Garrett simply looked down at the novel in your hands. Once you followed his gaze it all clicked. Empire of the Vampire.

“Oh..you’re-..you” None of your words felt right. Were you terrified, or curious? Excited perhaps? 

Garrett hooked a finger beneath your chin, guiding you to look up at him again, “ Does it bother you?” 

The waiting expression in his eyes almost seemed sad, “ No, should it?” 

“ No. Just because I’m a monstrous thing does not mean I would harm you” Garrett reassured, “ I’ve grown far too attached to you to hurt you, my dear human.” 

Heat blossomed within your chest alongside confusion. The challenging look in your eye that Garrett had come to cherish returned quickly, “ You’ve only just met me.” 

“ I’ve known about you for ages. Your heartbeat thrummed through my thread and your feelings flooded my head” As if on cue, the warmth you’ve felt all your life thrummed through the thread and into your veins. It all made sense now. All these years Garrett had been your source of comfort while you had been his taste of humanity. 

You exhaled softly, “Where do we go from here?” 

“Wherever you want. You could forget this ever happened and continue your life as is-” The thought of continuing your boring day-to-day with the knowledge of Garrett in the back of your mind felt criminal. 

You were quick to interrupt, “-I don’t want to forget you. I want us to figure this out together.” 

“ Then, by all means, tell me where to start and I’ll follow”, Garrett spoke. He was closer this time, so close that the tip of his nose almost touched yours. 

You took a deep breath, “Start by telling me everything.” 

And so he did. The two of you sat on the floor of the romance section without a care for time. You leaned against the bookshelf as Garrett told you stories of his life and transformation, only pausing when other people passed by. Eventually, he told you about his thread. How it had started around his wrist but then sunk into the skin when he turned into a vampire. After what seemed like hours, Garrett offered to walk you home, in exchange for stories about your own life. Right before the two of you reached your home, Garrett explained the situation with the Cullens. He didn’t want to potentially die in a vampire battle and leave you completely in the dark. Surprisingly, you took it better than he imagined, though he could still feel your worry through the thread. 

“Don’t worry about me, dear human. I have been in many wars” His hands cradled the sides of your face as he looked down at you, “Now inside you go. It is nearly sunrise and you have yet to sleep.” 

“Where will you be tomorrow?” You inquire with longing brewing in your eyes. Part of you felt like he would vanish with the wind. 

Garrett chuckles softly, “I have to check in with Carlisle, but don’t fret, I shall be here when you wake in the morning”

“I could come with you-”

Garrett shakes his head firmly, “ No, some of the others don’t have control of their bloodlust and I would rather keep you alive and safe.”

“Alright, I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then” You detach yourself from his presence and turn to head inside. Once you reach the door, you turn to wave at him once more. He uncrosses his arms for a brief moment to wave back. You dream of him that night, of what your life could’ve been had you been born in his era. Garrett perched himself on a tree as you slept. Staying close enough to keep track of your heartbeat, but not so close that you felt overwhelmed. 

By the time you woke, Garrett had run to Carlisle’s and back already. The run down for the day didn’t take nearly as much time as he thought. He was back in the tree by the time you left the house for the day. 

“No work uniform today either?” He observed.

“Nope, I have today off” You informed him,” Figured I would visit somewhere for lunch, care to join me?” 

Garrett jumped down from the tree, landing skillfully behind you as you began walking, “ I would never say no to time with you, dear human.”

“You’re cheesy” You fought back the blush that coated your cheeks. 

“I prefer to call myself a hopeless romantic, thank you very much” Garrett snarked, “Speaking of romantics, how about I carry you? We would arrive much faster.” 

You snorted out a laugh, “ No thank you. Not every woman is comfortable being picked up off her feet, Garrett” 

“Your independence is going to be the death of my romanticism, just as the British were to peace” He mumbled. 

You stopped walking to face him, “ Did you just compare me to the British invasion?” 

“ Is this the part where I lie or say sorry?” Garrett teased, walking to you with his hands behind his back.

You shook your head with a chuckle, “ The universe expects me to spend forever with you and yet you’ve already insulted me before our first date. Perhaps it should reconsider.”

“ Perhaps it shouldn’t” Garrett hummed, “Not as if it has any say in the matter anymore. You’re stuck with me forever.” 

Your eyes twinkled at the thought, “ Forever?” 

Garrett leaned down until his nose touched yours again, “ Forever.” 

[whumpninja]

The Angel of Death, Part Four: House Call

CONTENT WARNING: If you still had your seatbelts buckled from last chapter, this one is, somehow, messier.

Featuring: blood, gore, the really nasty side of vampire regeneration, severed limb, not entirely accurate medical care, did I say gore already because this is gory

Keola's phone rang at 8:42 on Sunday morning. Mr. Moody was on the other end, of course. Angel's leg was worse than he'd thought, the kick he'd withstood in the arena doing more damage to the already-broken bone. Mr. Moody had done what he could, but he could use Keola's expertise to make sure it would heal as fast as possible. Could she get to the Colosseum Club by nine thirty?

Keola hung up without answering and mumbled several words into her hands that would have made her mother lecture her for at least forty minutes. Why did I agree to do this? She was sure last night’s Bloody Mary had at least something to do with it.

Reluctantly, she got dressed, called a cab and ignored the strange look she received from the driver when she asked them to take her to the Colosseum Club. And also ignored the strange looks directed at her umbrella- the day was sunshiney. Sunshine wouldn't hurt Keola as much as a full vampire, but it wouldn't be pleasant. So she carried an umbrella, gritted her teeth, and resolved to tell anyone who asked that she had a highly contagious skin condition.

A goon she hadn't met yet greeted her at the door. "Ronnie, Lonnie- let me guess," Keola said to him. "You're Johnnie."

"I'm Ray."

"My mistake." All right, so the sarcasm was a little much, but she'd been dragged out of bed on a Sunday. Her one day off.

Ray, looking as if he was slightly confused and slightly more frightened by the petite woman attempting to guess his name, led her inside the building. "I've got it from here, tough guy," she told him, and made her own way to Mr. Moody's office.

To her surprise, he was actually there, pacing back and forth in front of the window. He looked relieved when she knocked on the open door. "Hey, Doc! Wasn't sure you'd come."

"You're paying me for this," Keola said by way of a greeting. "Extra."

"Not a problem." Mr. Moody actually wiped a hand across his forehead. He was sweating, almost nervously, and as he came out into the hallway Keola noticed that his khaki pants were splattered with something dark.

Vampire blood. He was soaked in it; she could smell it on him like alcohol on a drunken man. It made her stomach turn. And he barely seemed to notice it was there.

What's he been doing? That couldn't be Angel's blood- broken legs usually didn't bleed. One of the other poor prisoners kept here as bait for Mr. Moody's monster?

"I hope you can help, Doc. I'm not so good with first aid. Did what I could, but Angel needs a real doctor." Mr. Moody shook his head, wiping his forehead again. "I got a fight coming up this weekend. I need him. If there's any way you can make that leg heal up quicker-"

"What happened, exactly?" Keola asked curtly as Mr. Moody escorted her from the office to the underground holding area beneath the arena.

"That damn little mosquito Angel was tussling with on Saturday. The kick it got in busted Angel's leg up all over again. Me and the boys got it pretty well handled, but now there's a whole new mess to clean up. Anything you can do to get him to heal up faster, I'll be grateful."

Keola sighed. "I'll do my best, Mr. Moody. But I told you, I work with animals, not people. I'm not trained to treat vampires."

"As long as you can stop the bleeding and get him to start healing, Doc, I don't care."

Wait. "Bleeding? There shouldn't be any bleeding unless the bone broke the skin, in which case get me down there now."

Mr. Moody let her go first down the tunnels. They still smelled overwhelmingly like vampire blood, but without an active fight going above her head, she could stand it better.

They passed one of the little depressions in the wall that seemed to serve as cells, and Keola paused, frowning. Something lay in the corner- a sludgy pile of what looked like raw, shredded meat and haphazard bones, leaking tarry blood onto the concrete. She could make out a single staring eye at the edge of the mass.

Keola didn't have to be told what- who- it was. She'd never seen a vampire regenerate from such a state, and she'd certainly never been through it herself, but she knew it was a long and painful process. Poor Marcus. And when the mess Angel had made of him did knit itself back together, he'd be ripped apart all over again.

Keola hurried to catch up with Mr. Moody, who apparently hadn't noticed that she'd stopped. Her canines had sprung their sharp little points, and she could feel the red heat in the backs of her eyes. This was all him. His fault. He was the one who kept Angel starved and drugged and desperate enough to tear his own kind to pieces, and he was the one who kept the remains around so it could happen again and again. He was the one using vampires to make himself rich.

And, Keola learned as soon as they got to the room where Angel was kept, he was not above doing much worse.

"Why does it smell like blood in there?" Keola demanded.

Mr. Moody rubbed the back of his neck. "I tried, Doc. I ain't so good with medical stuff."

"Tried what?"

"Well-"

Keola didn't wait for him to finish. She set her jaw and pushed past him around the corner.

Her vet bag fell with a thud to the cement floor. Her hand drifted up to cover her mouth. She meant to yell, to shout in Moody's face.

But all that came out was a whisper. "What did you do?"

There was blood everywhere. Sprayed over the walls, splashed onto the floor, splattered across Angel's near-motionless body. The vampire lay on his side in the corner, apparently barely conscious. If it hadn't been for the shallow rise and fall of his chest, Keola would have thought he was dead.

She knew now why Mr. Moody was covered with Angel's blood.

Angel's injured leg rested on the rim of a bucket- what was left of his leg. Most of it was gone, severed just above the knee. The ragged stump leaked a slow drip of blood into the waiting bucket.

"You said six weeks for the bone to heal." Mr. Moody edged his way into the room. "Figured he'd regrow the leg in less than half that."

"You cut it off?" Keola still couldn't get her voice above whisper pitch.

"One of the boys found a saw in the back-"

"Stop. Just- stop." Keola closed her eyes, sickness roaring in the pit of her stomach. "What, exactly, do you want me to do?"

"Stop the bleeding? Bandage it? Whatever it'll take to get him to regrow it faster."

Keola nodded stiffly. She didn't trust herself to speak anymore. It was hard enough keeping the heat out of her eyes.

She crouched down beside Angel, her stomach clenching. She'd seen a lot of horrible injuries in her line of work, but this hit her in a way few things did. Mr. Moody and his men hadn't been careful. The wound had a raggedness at the edges that told her they'd only been interested in getting the leg off as fast as possible, not in making sure the cut was clean. The bone had been stubborn, snapping off at some point instead of being cut clean through. She could see the bone, the muscle, the tissue they had sliced through, a horrible cross-section like in her old anatomy textbooks.

Angel watched her through slitted eyes. This time he wasn't fighting or thrashing to get away from her touch. He'd been fighting, she could tell- one of the chains bolted to the wall had been ripped clean out of it, coiled uselessly on the floor. But he didn't try to lash out the way he had before. He just lay still, his hands cuffed behind him, occasional tremors rippling through his body. Was he- trembling?

Keola sat back on her heels next to the monstrous creature she'd seen tear apart one of their own kind only the night before. She'd hated him for a moment, watching from the stands. But now all she felt was pity.

There was no anger in him now, no feral bloodlust, no wild rage.

Angel was afraid. Terrified. Every line of his body vibrated with pure animal fear. In his drugged stupor, Angel didn't know why he was missing half his leg. He hadn't known why it was being cut off. He didn't know that it would regenerate. All he knew was that it hurt, and he was afraid of more hurting.

Keola carefully slipped the bucket out from under the remains of Angel's leg. He flinched, hard, at her touch, but didn't try to attack the way he had before. "I know, I know it hurts," she murmured.

Her skillful fingers brushed as gently as she could over the wound, finding the edges. She couldn't tell for sure, but it looked like there had already been the slightest bit of regeneration. The bone would grow back first, and the rest would wrap around it as it did. A well-fed, healthy vampire in their prime could regenerate a limb within a week. But for Angel, starved and drugged, it would take longer.

"I can't use bandages," she said, her voice clipped, fishing in her bag for a little white canister. "Best I can do is styptic powder to get the bleeding under control."

"Why no bandages?" Mr. Moody frowned.

Keola found the jar and unscrewed the top. "They'd block the regrowth. I assume. I told you I'm not trained for this." She shook her head. "This stuff isn't designed for severe wounds. It's not going to do much, but it might help something." Carefully, she set the powder to the wound. Angel shuddered, his breaths coming quicker as she applied a steady pressure. She hadn't expected it to help much, and it didn't, but the bleeding tapered off at least slightly.

After that, Keola lost herself in the work. She murmured gentle things to the feral vampire trembling underneath her hands, and ignored the human standing behind her, and kept her own rising anger in strict check. A careful balance of business and bedside manner, as she cleaned the terrible injury as best she could.

At some point she sent Mr. Moody out of the room. She didn't know why, she just suddenly couldn't stand to have him there. It shocked her that he listened- after much protesting on his part, yes, but he did eventually go. "If he attacks you, scream," he told her, clearly reluctant to leave her alone with Angel.

"You're not going to attack me," Keola said to Angel as soon as she was reasonably sure that Moody had gone. "Maybe before. But you know I'm trying to help, don't you?"

Angel's eyes were brown. She'd noticed that at some point. Whether it was the drugs wearing off or just that he wasn't currently forced into a rage, his eyes no longer glowed their savage red. He watched every movement she made.

"That's about all I can do for your leg, I think," Keola said. She unrolled a length of gauze from the roll she kept in her bag, folded it up into a thick square. "Believe it or not, Moody had the right idea about this. Elevation will help slow the bleeding down." She replaced the bucket under the stump of his leg, slipping the gauze underneath so the hard plastic wasn't biting into his skin.

Angel kept his gaze on her, like an animal in a trap wondering why the hunter hasn't killed it yet. Keola studied his face, realizing for the first time how young he looked when he wasn't snarling in a drug-induced fury. Vampires aged far more slowly than humans, so it was almost impossible to know how old he really was. But she'd put him at about the equivalent of twenty-five, if she had to guess.

Suddenly it all seemed so much more wrong. Angel, chained in this underground prison, his leg crudely amputated, drugged to the gills, and splattered all over with his own blood. Andrew Moody, you utter bastard.

Keola fumbled in her bag and found a cloth and the spray bottle she kept for casts. She wet the cloth with a few thorough sprays and then took a deep breath. "All right, koa," she said firmly. "I'm going to get some of that blood off you, and I need you to not try to kill me, yes?" She wasn't really sure why she used that name for him. It just seemed to jump out of her mouth. Koa. Warrior. Brave one.

Angel tensed when she brought the cloth up to his bare chest, but he didn't resist her. Gently, she wiped the flecks of dark blood from his brown skin. She didn't get close to his face- she had a feeling he wouldn't react well. But she could at least clean him up where she could. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes slip closed briefly at one point before he snapped them back open to stare at her again?

"There, that's better, isn't it?" she asked, rocking back onto her heels when she'd finished. "I'd give you sleep meds if I could, but I don't want to put anything else in your system with whatever you've got in there already."

There was a noise at the door, and she turned. Mr. Moody had come back, looking uncertain. "Are you okay, Doc? All good?"

"I'm in one piece," Keola replied, fitting her supplies back in her bag. "He...will be in one piece, in about two weeks."

Mr. Moody frowned deeply. "That long? Can't you get it regrown any faster?"

Keola took a long breath in through her nose, her patience all but spent. "No, I can't. And what's more, you have to feed him. I don't just mean a couple drops, I mean you have to give him a real meal."

Mr. Moody shook his head at that. "No can do, Doc. I told you, he gets unruly if I give him too much."

"If you want Angel to heal, he needs to eat," Keola said firmly, crossing her arms. "You can't have it both ways, Mr. Moody. You can't starve him and expect him to regenerate fast enough."

Mr. Moody looked abashed. "I don't- I don't starve him, Doc, he just gets a little wild if he's too strong. And if he makes the fights too easy, folks start to complain, y'know?"

"Let me tell you something, Mr. Moody." Keola beckoned the man closer, raising her voice enough that he flinched. "I don't care. He is missing half his leg because you didn't want to wait for a break to heal. He is barely cognizant of his surroundings because you drugged him. He is barely strong enough to move because you think giving him a few drops of blood at a time is going to cut it. And now you expect him to regenerate a limb faster than most vampires could regenerate a finger." She jabbed her own finger into Mr. Moody's chest for emphasis. "So you are going to give him blood, as much as he can drink. And you are going to do it right damn now even if you have to cut open your own arm to get it. Am I clear?"

For a moment they stood there, head-to-head. Mr. Moody's eyes flashed with anger. Keola prayed hers didn't.

Then, abruptly, he pulled back, sighing. "All right, Doc. Guess I can't have it both ways, can I? But only until that leg heals. I need him strong enough to fight without being strong enough to fight me, you get it?"

"Oh, I get it, Mr. Moody. But for now, feed him. And if that leg looks like it's getting infected, call me."

Mr. Moody nodded. "I sure will, Doc. You been a real help with Angel." He chuckled. "You're bossy, but you help."

Keola didn't return the laugh, meeting him instead with a cold stare. "I'm coming back to check on him Tuesday," she said. "No charge, but if his leg isn't at least partially regrown, you and I are going to have words."

She let Moody walk her out. "Keep him off it, keep it elevated, and feed him. Got it? He needs to eat and rest."

Mr. Moody nodded. "I'll look after him, Doc. You have my word."

"I surely hope I do."

Clouds had overshadowed the sky by the time Keola left the Colosseum Club. She called another cab, curling up on the seat and staring out the window. Her thoughts kept straying back to the dingy concrete room where Angel lay with the stump of his leg bleeding into a bucket, to the wet mass of flesh and meat that would eventually knit itself back together into Marcus, to the dark blood splattered across Mr. Moody’s clothes and hands.

Keola had seen a lot of hard things in her career. But this was the one that made her feel the most like crying.

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @softvampirewhump @scoundrelwithboba @rainbowsandwhumperflies @octopus-reactivated @whumperfultime @pigeonwhumps @handsinmotion @starfields08000 @fleur-a-whump @worstcasescenariolullaby @what-if-i-just-did

Masterlist

[neilljcsten]

from @jeaanmoreau's prompt: kevjean or jerejean or jeanee maybe halloween theme

Renee never regretted pulling Jean out of The Nest. If anything, she regretted not acting sooner, damn the consequences the rest of the Foxes would've faced. She knew though, that Jean wasn't ready to leave. Not until Riko beat him half to death and left Jean to stitch himself back together for the thousandth time.

Nor did she regret sending Jean to The Trojans. The Foxes were chaotic at the best of times and downright caustic at the worst of times; Jean needed somewhere with more warmth and patience than any of Wymack's crew could offer. USC seemed like the best option and Jeremy, Renne knew, had enough darkness in him to understand Jean but enough light to help guide him back to life.

What Renee did regret was the seven hour flight from Palmetto to USC and the fact her book was sitting on her bed in the dorms, rather than in her carry on. The Foxes had a stroke of luck with their schedule this year and were game free on Halloween weekend. The Trojans were in the same posistion and after a quick call with Jean, she had booked a flight out for the weekend.

She hadn't told Kevin she was going - his relationship with Jean was a work in progress - but she did tell Neil. Neil's protectiveness of Jean didn't surprise her; she had heard enough about the Raven's partner system and Neil's past to know about the misplaced bond between them. That, and the fact the last unexpected visitor of Jean's ended up dead at Neil's request, she figured it was prudent to give Neil a heads up.

Her cab pulled up outside of a cozy looking apartment in USC's student district. She texted Jean to let him know she was there and headed in, suitcase rolling behind her. Cat opened the door before she could knock, pulling her into a warm hug.

"Thank you for him. For getting him out. Thank you." She whispered in Renee's ear. Cat stepped away quickly and gestured for Renee to follow. It was clear the apartment was well loved. Photos of teammates adorned the walls and there was a chore chart on the fridge. Jeremy and Jean were in the kitchen cooking dinner under Lalia's watchful eye. Renee stood in the doorway, soaking it in.

The two stood beside each other, chopping and prepping food seamlessly. Brief touches passed between them as they moved ingridients back and forth. Conversation flowed easily with Lalia cutting in every so often, earning a soft smile from Jean when she did.

Too absorbed in their cooking to notice Renee's arrival, Cat cleared her throat to grab their attention.

"Hello Jean-Yves," Renne said. She felt her face splitting in two, her happiness at the scene before her threatening to overwhelm her. Healing was hard and ugly but it was always worth it. She was proof of it and soon Jean would be too.

"Renee Walker," Jean replied, "I think that this visit to my home will go better than the last - no?" Jeremey, Cat, and Lalia froze at Jean's joke but Renee let out in a startled laugh. Maybe Jean would've been okay with the Foxes after all.

"I don't think it could go worse. I brought the stuff for our costumes you asked for. Want to come see?" Jeremy and Jean put down what they were working on, Cat and Lalia stepping in to finish up the recipie.

It had been hard to explain to Allison why she needed to find three costumes, not just two, but her friend had been happy to help once she grasped why. Allison knew about Jean and Renee, but unlikle the rest of the team, she also knew about Jean, Renee, and Jeremy. The three of them had more so fallen into the relationship than planned it, each of them finding something in the others that kept drawing them back in.

Jean took Renee's suitcase and Jeremy grabbed her hand to pull her back to their bedroom. She exchanged a quick kiss with both of them, satisifed that they would have time for more later. For now there were more pressing matters at hand - namely, figuring out whose costume was whose. Renee and Jeremy had kept the costumes a secret from Jean in the hope it would stop him from stressing out about his first Halloween outside of The Nest. It had worked but now was the moment of truth. He looked down at his own costume and the dyed pom poms that Katelyn had leant Renee for the weekend, and then at the other's costumes. They wore the same outfit in different colours.

"What are we supposed to be? Colourblind cheerleaders?" Jean scoffed.

"Babe sometimes I forget how little you know," Jeremy laughed. "Cat and Lalia will get it - go ask them." The trio went back out to the kitchen.

"Oh my god. You're the Powerpuff girls." Cat exclaimed.

"Let me guess," Lalia added, "Renne, you're Blossom; Jeremy, you're Bubbles; and Jean - you're Buttercup." When Jean stared back in confusion, Cat and Lalia dove into explaining the Powerpuff Girls' superpowers.

It felt a little bit like fate, Renee thought, that she ended up here with two men that reflected the two halves of her heart. Sunshine and night; blind faith and realism. She was the midpoint between their two poles and they kept her centered. Lalia took a quick photo of them in their costumes and Renee sent it off to Neil. Once it delivered, she turned her phone off and rejoined the group; she wanted to be present for every moment the weekend brought her.

[violetswritingg]

Thunderstruck

Tyler Owens x OFC!

Description: When cowgirl meets cowboy after a year of no-contact and chaos ensues during storm season!

Rating: M (Mentions of blood and death in Tornadoes and storms alike, angst and loss of loved ones, car accidents, Tornado aftermath, and injury to characters)

Want to read the other chapters?

click here

5

May, 2024

Oklahoma

"Well, at least we got data from inside the vortex, that's always fun." Sarah chirped from her curled up position inside the Warlock, the wing doors open as Riley was elbow deep in the engine. Oil and grime on her face as her hair started to fall from its ponytail. Bare fingers going through components and wires, yanking, pulling, and throwing over her shoulder. Grabbing the extra parts she needed from the paper plate set up on the corner of the open hood. "The doctors also said you need to take it easy!"

“I wouldn’t call ex-pre-med Sam who gave me my stitches a doctor, but okay, besides I am taking it easy!” She could feel the continued stares of every chaser in the lot, new or veteran. She knew what this vehicle meant not only to her but also to the community. The Warlock had been going since before she was born. She's replaced the engine and just about every part in it before at least twice. It was a money pit. It would be cheaper to just make a new one. Their grants would pay for it easily, but she couldn't let go of this one. She wouldn't.

She grunted as she leaned over a little farther, arm almost completely swallowed by the huge piece of machinery. She knew this vehicle like the back of her hand, and it showed. She pulled back and grabbed a wrench from an undergrad, muttering a 'thanks' under breath before tightening something and then putting her flashlight in her mouth to wrap some wires in electrical tape. Ripping out old ones and putting in new ones. She kicks the bumper and bangs the wrench against a component to the side. Leaning around side and wiping her hands off on a rag.

"Try it now Sarah!" Riley called, her head bowing down as her eyes closed. "Come on, come on, come on." She muttered under her breath.

When it roars to life her head snapped up and she fist pumped with a whoop, Sarah coming out to hug her. Swaying them back and forth.

"Not finished yet." Riley looked to Sarah and smirked, the brunette let the blonde go, allowing her to carefully climb into the front seat, flipping up the switch over the trigger for the spikes. "You filming this?" She called out, a little louder than normal, so Sarah could hear it.

"You bet your cute behind I am!" Was Sarah's response. And Riley chuckled inside the vehicle, shaking her head.

"Spikes deploying on 3!" Riley called out, knowing what was about to happen. "2!" The whole lot had joined in, the chorus of voices in the night one of the best sounds Riley had ever heard. "1!" It reminded her just how many people her dad had inspired or had loved him, that his memory lived on. Through her. "Deploy! Deploy! Deploy!"

The sound of the two foot long solid spikes striking through the asphalt sent a shock through the cab and Riley laughed raucously at the sensation. Next, she swung herself out of the vehicle with a huge smile, laughing some more when she felt arms around her and the next thing she knows she was on Daniels shoulders. The college junior grinning up at her with bright eyes, Riley looked back to the lot and took in all the chasers for a second. Feeling her eyes prickle a bit, her smile going wobbly for a second before she pulled it together.

"It lives!" Riley screamed to the parking lot, throwing up her left fist in the air in celebration.

"It lives!" Her hoard of undergrads echo, jumping and screaming together. Jenny, the only other theatre major on their team, who was corrupted by Sarah on her way out following it with the evilest witch cackle Riley had ever heard.

The parking lot erupted into cheers and Riley subtly wiped around her eyes as she was lowered to the ground. Small laughs still bubbling past her lips as she shared in a few more moments of pure joy with her team. The one she put together and chose, everyone really becoming like a family over the months of prep for this storm season making this moment all that much better. Because they believed in her, they thought she could do this, they supported her and drive. They would never dream of telling her to slow down, to give up on her dreams.

"Wonderful, now will you go shower? You are literally still covered in your own blood." Sarah winced and gestured to Riley and how she was still in her bloodied, cut up tank top, and dusty cargo pants from the chase earlier.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Riley swiped at her and Sarah dodged, her still damp hair just out of reach of Riley's oil stained skin. "I'm going, I'm going."

"Good, because you smell like storm and diesel and it's giving me a migraine." Sarah smiled and gestured to the staircase down the walkway from where they were able to get the Warlock. After it decided to stop running a mile before they got back to the motel. They had to have it hooked up to the tech van while pushing it with six of the biggest guys they had that last mile with Riley in the driver's seat steering it. It was horrible. "Also there's pizza on the table, eat something."

"Yes mom." Riley dragged out and turned while taking off, feeling higher than she had in months while covered in mud, grime, and blood. She had barely taken a couple steps before she ran into another body and her hand darted to her side as she hissed and took a couple steps back to steady herself.

"I'm so sorry-"

"It's fine Kate, I shoulda been watching better." Riley's accent came out a little heavier than she meant because of the stinging radiating through her ribs. But she still grinned, even if in pain, nothing could ruin her good mood right now.

"How are you, I saw you get hit, I thought-" Kate cut herself off, looking to the ground for a second, "I'm happy you're okay, looked pretty rough out there."

"Thanks." Riley went to lay a hand on Kate's shoulder but stopped herself, Kate saw the movement and chuckled. "I would but uh- I'm kind of dirty, sorry." Riley laughed, though her grin carried an awkward stress in the corners as she tried to keep smiling, wiping her palm down her thigh as if trying to clean it against the dusty fabric would actually do anything.

"You headed up?" Kate motioned to the staircase, resituating her backpack on her shoulder.

"Yeah, thanks." Riley started walking and Kate followed, side by side in easy silence. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, with my questions. I tend to let myself get carried away when I get curious."

"Oh, it's fine." Kate waved her off but Riley pushed on.

"No. It's not. My daddy raised me better than to go snoopin' in someone else's business. So, I apologize. Please just take it." Riley chuckled tightly, she couldn't take any more guilt, even just this one thing.

"Thank you." Kate breathed after taking a moment, meeting Riley at the bottom of the stairs before they both started up.

"There is pizza in my room if your hungry," Riley started, "Unless you already-"

"I haven't but I'm okay. Thank you though."

"Yeah, of course." Riley breathed, trying to remember when it suddenly became so hard to make friends. Turning the corner at the landing and stopping dead in her tracks when her name was called out. Well, a name she hasn't been called in a while.

"Rocky!"

"Rocket!"

Kate stopped as well, looking to Riley with eyebrows drawn tight, head tilting to the side, "Rocket?"

"Just an old nickname. Uh Hey guys." Riley waved, her smile tense but softening when her eyes met Lily's, "Hey Lils." Her eyes darted around the whole group in greeting before landing on the one pair she had hoped to avoid. "Owens."

Tyler worked his jaw when Riley's grin dropped and his last name spit from her lips.

"Go east, she said, the west will choke each other out, she said." He quipped, sarcastic grin on his handsome face. Hands pausing their work on the spinning sensor on top of his truck. His eyes cut to Kate for a split second before drilling back into Riley, "Hey Storm Par."

Kate frowned at him, her eyebrows pulling down as she rolled her shoulders back. Riley stepped a little in front of her, leaning her elbows on the siding.

"Well, I still didn't manage to throw you off the scent, did I?" Riley grinned, her eyes glinting in the dim lighting of the parking lot, anger festering under the surface. "I must be losing my touch."

"I-I wouldn't say that." A voice she hadn't heard in person before piped up from beside Tyler, his pink cheeks, big brown eyes, and warm looking skin all very inviting. His smile wide and carefree, she was a little jealous. "I mean, that was great, with the Warlock. Just awesome..." Boone trialed off, holding up a finger as his face went through a couple different emotions, Riley's anger simmering as she allowed herself to enjoy the show. Enjoying the new character. "Have you ever thought about, and hear me out here, putting rocket launchers on the Warlock?" The man punctuated the words 'rocket' and 'launchers' with his hands before gesturing to the chasing vehicle with her small army surrounding it, only the older undergrads still lingering.

Riley can't stop the laugh that bubbles from her lips, "No, I have not." She shakes her head a bit as a more bitter thought filtered in and it showed on her face as she wet her lips, "I'm not exactly trying to run around firing fireworks up into tornadoes. You know you could have caused a fire like that? The sparks could have gotten carried into the dry wheat field. People could have gotten hurt."

Boone's smile dimmed a little and he looked back to Tyler when Riley's eyes shifted from his. Locking onto the blonde, her words cutting his soul. The look of disappointment flashing in her eyes was just the twist of the knife.

"Tyler knew that wouldn't happen, that's what makes him famous." Boone defended his friend, a small frown on his face as he looked up to Riley.

"On Youtube?" Kate piped up for the first time, head tilting to the side as she also stared down the blonde now. Stepping up to Riley's side, mimicking her position.

"Yeah!" Boone got excited again, missing Kate's sarcasm and other members of the crew confirmed over 1 million now. Riley was impressed, last season they were no where near that. That was a far far away dream. A tinge of pride streaked through her chest and she shared a more genuine smile with Lily.

"Riley St. James correct? Just in case I include you in my article." Riley looked down into the spectacle covered eyes of the British reporter that was following Tyler around. Riley grinned, genuinely, not like he had ever done anything to her. Tyler huffed, biting down on the inside of his cheek to temp the green eyed monster.

"That's correct. At your service, if you need anything or these chuckles are giving you a hard time let me know, I'll straighten them out for ya okay?" Riley chuckled when Ben smiled up at her, nodding at her before looking to Kate.

"And your name? For the same reason, if you don't mind." Ben was so polite. So different than the rough and tumble rag tag team Tyler had created for himself.

"Just Kate is fine. Not Storm Par." Some low whistles come from the group when Kate bared her claws. Riley looked to her with raised eyebrows, her grin easy.

"Don't be fooled Ben, Riley is a tricky one. I'd bet Kate here is too." Tyler comments and Riley does her best to ignore him.

"You made a good call, you know, earlier. The other storm looked stronger, but the cap never broke." Boone complimented and Riley nodded.

"I'm sorry, what's a 'cap'?" Ben asked, looking like a confused puppy and Riley took a breath. Her mouth opening at the same time Dexter went to answer.

"It's a temperature inversion-" They both started at the same time, Riley's voice much more enthusiastic and Dexter zipped his mouth shut grinning up at her before gesturing up to her. Riley grinned bashfully, tucking some stray strands of hair behind her ear.

"It's a temperature inversion inside the mid-part of the lower atmosphere. Inversion meaning that the temperature of the air get's hotter as it rises instead of cooling like normal. It creates a stable environment that can and will keep a storm from forming or from getting severe. Sometimes when it's really strong looking, you can't always trust what's there." Riley explained, "That make sense?" She checked and Ben thought about it for a second, Riley glanced at Kate and rolled her shoulders back before continuing, "If not I have some videos on my channel that go over it in better detail, they're pretty short and sweet, and explain it in a more non-meteorology way." The Brit sent her an appreciative grin before nodding and thanking her.

Lily taking a sneaky picture of Tyler and how he was smiling a bit, catching him perfectly as he glanced up at the dirty blonde on the landing.

"So where did you all meet?" Kate gestured to Riley and the others, "Did you all study Meteorology at the U of A?" It was quiet for a second before the majority of the group was laughing. Riley doing her best to keep her amusement at bay. Kate looking to Riley confused, while Riley could only give the woman a kind grin.

"Yeah. No. None of us did. But Tyler did. He's a cowboy scientist. Got a natural feel for this kind of stuff." Boone threw an arm over Tyler's shoulders from his spot next to the blonde in the cab of the red truck.

"Him?" Kate asked immediately, her filter obviously failing in that moment. Riley barked out a laugh before clapping her hand over her mouth. Feeling her cheeks gone bright red. Kate looked to her with raised eyebrows.

"Nothin' uh, I'm in the PhD program right now. But uh, their crew isn't like yours, or even mine really." Riley started to explain before Tyler cut her off. She wanted to kill him.

"We don't need fancy PhD's and gadgets to do what we do." Tyler looked up from where he had previously been looking, in his head about something. His words struck a particularly soft spot and when his eyes cut to her, he could tell the effect his words had on Riley and he wanted to kick himself. But he pushed on, being the asshole she though he was, "I bet these guys have seen more tornadoes than anyone in this lot combined. Minus Riley, she's been doing this since she was 12, she doesn't count."

"Nice Tyler. Still the same I see."

"No need to fix what ain't broken." He grinned caustically and Riley frowned. Her mood officially ruined.

"We apparently have different definitions of broken." Riley grinned right back, eyes squinted in fury.

"Do you think we'll see another one tomorrow?" Ben asked, putting himself right in the firing line, poor guy. He couldn't tell they were all walking on the mine field created by Tyler and Riley issues.

"Oh absolutely!" Riley nodded a little too enthusiastically.

"It's an outbreak baby." Tyler answered over the top of her and Riley took a deep breath.

"Where are you chasing tomorrow?" Lily asked, "It'd be cool to see you out there again, it's been so long, almost felt like the good old days."

Riley softened again and was about to answer honestly before Tyler was kicking up dust again, "Oh no, we're not falling for that again. I mean, it may feel like she's back but she's not part of the crew anymore, we don't need her to navigate for us."

That was her limit.

"Fuck you, Tyler." Riley spit and stormed up the stairs, ignoring the calls of her name.

"Well, you know what they say, you can always trust a guy who puts his face on a t-shirt." Kate rolled her eyes and went up after Riley. The reaction of the chasing group below them dulled in Riley's ears, "Hey, you okay?" Kate called, getting to Riley's door just before she closed it.

Riley was obviously just putting on a brave face when she waved Kate off, and the slightly older blonde frowning but taking it. It's not like she had a right to dig. What was it Riley said earlier about not getting into other people's business?

But she had so many questions, specifically about the trailer of empty barrels and Dorothy on the back of them.

But that wasn't her business.

~~*~~

Riley's shower had been quick, used to hurrying through everything just in case a storm warning rolled through. It was something that Tyler always complained about, that she never allowed herself time to breathe, to rest. A workaholic who had no sense of self-preservation. Is how she believed he phrased it.

She did feel better though, now that her skin was clean, and her clothes weren't stiff with dried blood. Having changed into another tank top, this one a medium toned brown with a white embroidered cloud and a couple yellow stars on the chest, a pair of blue jeans, and her work boots. Which were just heavy-duty hiking boots really.

Padding to the table after she tied her shoes, pawing at the open pizza box, pulling out a slice of pepperoni, and taking a bite. Building her courage to head back down to the parking lot, there was still work to be done tonight. She had to prep the mixture all over again, as she was the only one who knew the measurements besides Sarah, and Sarah was already working on crunching the numbers for tomorrow's storm cells and the data they needed to get out asap. There were some data sets from inside a vortex, due to her, her dad, and her current team. There was no one else doing this kind of research right now and that's why grants kept coming their way.

And then she had to make sure the undergrads with responsibilities didn't shuck them off till the morning when they were planning an early start.

Making a checklist, she finished her pizza, tossing the rock-hard crust back into the box for Sarah who liked to knaw on it like a fucking dog to a bone. Riley was honestly too scared to ask about it, psycho behavior, truly.

Her hand hovered over the door nob and slowly opened it, locking it behind her and taking a breath as she approached the stairs. Ignoring Tyler's looks as she walked past the first landing without even a glance in his direction.

"You look better, than before. Less tired, less bloody." His voice stopped her in its tracks, the genuine concern she could hear. Picturing the way that he used to look at her. After she had gone down another research rabbit hole and hadn't slept in 48 hours, probably also hadn't eaten in that time either. Soft concern and gooey warmth dripping over her every frayed nerve as he would drag her to bed and make her comfortable before pulling up the covers around them and holding her so tight she thought there was never going to be a time it wouldn't be like that.

"Thanks." She whispered over her shoulder and darted down the rest of the way.

~~*~~