#and already used to being scared and alone and facing death in the face while pretending and lying that she was fine and nothing was wrong

[sunsetovertheocean]

Ok, the ending of Lia's section in Twelve? I have actually never recovered from that.

[nadvs]

home before dark (part two)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating mature 18+

summary as children, you and rafe were best friends, but then tragedy suddenly struck his family and he shut everybody out. years later, you need his help when a pushy ex-boyfriend won’t leave you alone. rafe is perfect for the job because everybody’s afraid of him. except for you.

content warnings stalker ex, violence, substance abuse, death and mourning of parent

» masterlist

· · ── ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ── · ·

After Rafe leaves, you make sure every door and window in your home is shut and locked.

You don’t know if Ty would do something as crazy as break in. But there was a time you’d laugh in disbelief at the thought of him hurling insults at you and that was all he did by the end of your relationship, so you’re not taking any chances.

Beneath the fear he impales you with lies a sense of betrayal. He was so good at pretending to be kind. Only a monster could put on such a convincing act just to break your heart.

When you tell yourself he’ll move on soon, you hate that it feels like false hope.

You text Sarah to let her know you made it home and that you’ll see her at tonight’s beach party. Even though Ty will probably be there, you don’t want him having any more power over you than he already has.

You’re determined to have fun. To have a life. Especially because you have someone protecting you now.

Rafe is unnerved as he stands on the beach under the starry sky that night, surrounded by the guys he parties with all the time.

The crowds and the conversations are all the same, but everything is different now. Because he’s looking out for you and it gives him something he hasn’t had in a long time. Purpose.

It’s disorienting to Rafe, going from avoiding you to keeping his eyes on you so persistently. From afar, he watches you laughing with your friends and now that he has a reason to, he takes you in completely.

He’d be an idiot not to admit that you’re beautiful. But he always knew that, no matter how hard he pretended not to notice you.

You slowly drift further away into the crowd. Rafe continues checking on you, keeping you in his sights.

Later on in the night, you’re in deep conversation with Sarah. Being three years her senior, you were much closer to Rafe when you were kids, but now you’d consider her a good friend.

When her eyes widen at something behind you, your body goes cold, expecting the worst. You turn to see your ex approaching you, a nearly empty beer bottle in his hand.

“Where’s Rafe?” you ask Sarah, hushed.

“Rafe?” she echoes in confusion. While she knows all about your ex, you haven’t had a chance to tell her that her brother is helping you put on a farce. You’re sure she’ll be in disbelief when you catch her up.

“Hey,” Ty says gently, his hand at the small of your back. The sensation you once welcomed makes you sick. “Can we talk? Please? I’m sorry about last night.”

It’s no surprise. You’re used to him yo-yoing between belittling you and putting on his nice guy act.

“No,” you respond, twisting so that his hand slips off of you. “How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?”

The booze in his system slows him down, but Rafe treads through the sand to you as fast as he can the second he sees Ty talking to you.

Suddenly, Rafe’s broad back is in front of you, a wall separating you from the man who’s tormenting you. When Rafe’s there, you realize Ty doesn’t scare you at all.

“Fuck off,” Rafe mutters.

Ty drunkenly staggers back, creating several feet of distance between you. His face contorts with annoyance.

“You know you’re just a bullshit rebound, right?” Ty calls. You look back at Sarah, who’s watching the exchange in confusion.

“I can’t hear you when you’re running away from me, pussy,” Rafe taunts.

Anger churns inside you at Ty’s words, prompting you to grab Rafe’s hand. You know Rafe couldn’t care less - after all, this relationship is all an act - but Ty calling him a rebound, insinuating that he’s meaningless to you, bothers you.

You pull him away, cupping his fingers with both hands.

Rafe was an inch away from chasing Ty and swinging at him. If it wasn’t for the alcohol blurring his senses, his fist would be aching right now from driving it into Ty’s jaw.

His entire body is stiff with rage, but for once in his life, the tension is dissolving instead of building up onto itself. It’s from the way your hands feel on him.

“What an asshole,” you say. Even though you should probably let go of him, you can’t.

Your touch is so warm. Rafe wants to ask why you reserve kindness for him after he shoved you out of his life. He wishes he could wipe it from his memory, the look on your face after he denied your every effort to talk to him. You grew up, but the disappointment in your stare never changed.

But he doesn’t know how to say all this. He doesn’t talk like that. With anybody. He couldn’t even talk to the therapist his father took him to see after it happened.

Maybe if he had asked him why he couldn’t so much as look at her, Rafe would have told his dad that the therapist’s blonde hair and gentle tone reminded him too much of his mother.

But after she told Ward that Rafe “wasn’t responding to therapy”, all he did was angrily yank his son out of the office, his grasp tight and painful.

Once they made it home, Rafe tearfully rushed to his parents’ bed to try to smell his mother on her pillow even though the sheets had been washed.

He spent most of his childhood pretending he was bigger than he was, eager to grow up. But he remembers nuzzling his head into her pillow that day, hyperventilating and thinking he was too small to know his heart could hurt this bad.

It felt like no time had passed when Rose came into the picture. Rafe knew his parents weren’t in a happy marriage, but he didn’t expect Ward to start seeing another woman so soon.

Rafe angrily confronted his dad, as if a ninety-pound kid could be any sort of threat. It was the first time Ward slapped him. He’s certain that it wasn’t the first time his father wanted to hit him, but his mother had always been his defence. And then in an instant, Rafe didn’t have her anymore.

You reach the shore together, far away enough from the crowd. You pull your hands away from Rafe and cross your arms, gazing at him under the moonlight.

“I wish he’d just stop already,” you say, shaken from Ty’s sudden approach. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Rafe says flatly. But he doesn’t walk away from you. He simply looks out at the dark sea with his hands in his pockets.

The waves crash beside you, the water climbing and retreating over the sand, threatening to wet your shoes.

The last time you stood together looking out at the water like this, you were kids skipping stones over the ocean’s swells. And because he’s not leaving, you take the opportunity to see if he’ll let you in, even just a little bit.

You crouch to pick up a small, smooth stone and try to skip it over the water. It immediately falls straight below the surface. You breathe a short laugh.

“That sucked,” Rafe says. His tone is lighter than what you’re used to.

“It’s been a while,” you retort. “And that rock wasn’t very flat.”

“Sure.” Despite himself, he cracks a smirk.

You can’t remember the last time you saw happiness on his face. He has his mother’s smile.

“You were better at finding the flat ones,” you say.

“I was better at everything.”

“And still so humble about it.” You haven’t joked around with him like this in so long that it feels new. “Prove it, then.”

“What?”

“That you can do better than me,” you say. “Get two skips, at least.”

Rafe keeps his hands in his pockets, looking down at the stones scattered atop the sand. The wind whips around you, threatening rain.

“We’re not kids anymore,” he rasps. If you want to take a walk down memory lane, you can do it alone.

He steps back, inviting the distance that lived between you for years to return. Yet another dismissal.

You step back, too. Your arms are not so much crossed anymore; you’re practically hugging yourself now. You need the comfort and he certainly isn’t going to give it to you.

“Did I do something wrong… before?” you impulsively say. Now that you have his attention, you find a shred of courage to ask him what’s been turning in your mind for years.

Deep down, you’ve always feared it wasn’t just the shock of what happened that made Rafe shut you out. Maybe you did or said something that deemed your friendship not worth keeping. Maybe you were too pushy. Or not pushy enough.

Rafe’s throat tightens. He never planned to have this conversation. He never wanted to.

You see his jaw clench. His silence is loud enough. It’s obvious he’s done speaking.

“Nevermind,” you say dejectedly. You turn, but his deep voice stops you.

“Where are you going?” he asks, his protective instinct kicking in again.

“Back to my friends,” you say.

“He’ll just bother you again,” Rafe states. “Come on.”

He tilts his head towards the side of the beach he was on. Looking at the group of the same rowdy guys you always see him with in the distance makes you frown.

No matter how much you’ve missed him, you know that standing silently next to him while he jokes around with his friends will just be a painful reminder of how he chose them and not you.

“I’ll be fine,” you say.

“It wasn’t a question,” Rafe snaps abruptly.

For the first time since you started speaking again, the compassion you always feel for him is overpowered by anger. You know he’s helping you, but his domineering tone reminds you of how Ty speaks to you.

“I’ll be fine,” you repeat. The cold tide reaches your feet, soaking your shoes.

Irritation pricks Rafe’s skin. For years, you’ve been trying to force conversations with him, and now, when he’s inviting you to stay by his side, you’re shutting him down?

As you walk away, the feeling of rejection screws a hole into his chest. Then he realizes that this is the cold, empty way he’s been making you feel for years.

“I know,” you say when you see Sarah, acknowledging her puzzled expression, linking arms with her.

You’re about to tell her this is all a game of pretend, but the risk of Ty finding out from anyone overhearing or her accidentally mentioning it to someone is too scary.

“What was that?” she says with a disbelieving laugh.

“Rafe and I… started talking again. The other night. And we’re seeing each other now.”

“Wow,” is all she can say. She glances across the beach, as if looking at Rafe will offer any sort of clarity.

You haven’t spoken much about him with Sarah. Years ago, you’d often tell her how much you wished he’d just talk to you again and she’d tell you he doesn’t talk to anyone anymore.

She knows your relationship with him is strained and basically non-existent. You feel bad for lying to her, but your fear of Ty is too big to take any risks.

As the night carries on, your ex stays away from you.

Before heading home, you separate from your friends for just a moment to throw out your cup when you see a figure approaching you.

Goosebumps grow across your skin as Ty passes by behind you, his keys jingling in his hand.

“You planning on hiding behind him forever?” he asks. “What’s gonna happen when he’s not around, huh?”

You stare at him with a scowl, hoping your face isn’t showing just how frightened you are.

To your relief, Ty continues on his way, crossing into the parking lot. You remember him picking you up in the car you watch him sit in now and how he acted like such a gentleman, all the while hiding who he really was.

He succeeded in scaring you. His words left you unsettled, tears pricking your eyes, your breath shallow. The thought of going home and sleeping alone fills you with dread.

Maybe it was just an empty threat. But maybe it wasn’t.

You need someone to stay with you tonight. You rush back onto the sand towards the other side of the beach.

Rafe’s gaze is fixed on one of his friends telling a drunken story. But then you appear, crossing the distance with a fear-struck expression.

“What’d he do?” Rafe mutters, his body tensing. “Where is he?”

“He left,” you respond. Your anxiety pushes you to hold his forearm for some stability.

“What’d he do?” he repeats.

“He… said some stuff,” you say, voice shaking. “Can you-”

“I told you to stay with me,” Rafe interrupts. He’s seething. This could have been prevented if you had just listened to him.

But the way you’re breathing and holding onto him, as if you’re lost at sea and he’s the only thing keeping you afloat, makes him regret snapping.

“And I didn’t listen because you yelled at me just like he does,” you mumble quietly, letting go.

The comparison stings. He shouldn’t blame you. He knows that. And now that the booze has worn off, he’d love a shot at Ty with nothing slowing him down.

Some of his buddies are watching you two in confusion. They’d never seen you together and now you’re clearly in a heated conversation. Just like a couple fighting.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Rafe says, wishing he hadn’t interrupted you.

You’re unsure if you should ask. But even with your home’s security system in place, who knows how long police would take to arrive after a triggered alarm? You need someone already there in case Ty is crazy enough to break in. Someone you know can protect you.

“Can you stay at my house tonight?“ you mumble. “I’m scared of being alone.”

Rafe falters. He agreed to pretend to be your boyfriend, and staying with you is a boyfriend thing to do, but the pressure of being in an empty house together after years of avoiding you makes him uneasy.

Yet, at the same time, the prospect of being completely alone with you gives him a sense of home that only adds to the confusion that’s been clouding in his mind.

“Did you drive here?” he finally says.

You know next to nothing about Rafe these days, but you do know that he does almost everything alone. He never arrives or leaves parties with people. It’s always just him on his motorcycle.

“I came with a friend,” you reply. “But I can wait until you’re ready to leave.”

His muscles lose some of their tension. You’d be willing to stand here and wait for as long as you’d need to just so you don’t have to be on your own. You’re desperate.

Rafe stays out until he’s exhausted. It’s how he makes sure the second he’s in bed, he can take a shot or do a line and fall asleep right away, giving no opportunity to be subjected to his thoughts.

But guilt is a powerful opponent and this is a fight he knows he’ll lose.

“Let’s go,” he sighs.

After you let your friend know you have a ride home, you make your way to Rafe’s motorcycle with him in silence.

He grabs his helmet from the boot, thoughtlessly about to put it on. But then he remembers he’s not alone for once.

He holds the helmet out to you. You hesitate, about to ask him if he has an extra for himself, but why would he?

“You sure?” you ask.

“Take it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say. Rafe sends a groan towards the starry sky.

“Goddamn it, do you have to be so difficult?” he mutters. The edge of his tone is cutting. You’re fed up.

“I know you’re doing me a favor, but could you stop being so rude about it?” you say.

Rafe exhales in frustration. Shit. He’s sure he’s acting just like your asshole ex again.

“Isn’t the whole point of this to keep you safe?” he says, softness in his voice. “Can you just put it on?”

You look up at him through your lashes. His forlorn gaze extinguishes the fire of your irritation and you relent, accepting the helmet, the shell cold and hard in your hands.

Rafe swings his leg over the bike, turning on the engine. He glances back at you as you put the helmet on.

You steady yourself and straddle the sputtering motorcycle. It’s nerve-racking placing your hands on Rafe’s hips.

With his feet on the ground, he drags his big hands over yours and guides them up to his abdomen.

“You have to hold tighter,” he half-shouts over the engine. You obey, your chest pressing against his back, your arms wrapping around his torso.

You wonder if he can feel how fast your heart is pounding. His t-shirt is so thin. His body is firm and warm.

You appreciate that he gave you his helmet, but you wish it wasn’t in the way now so that you could lean on him and press your cheek between his shoulder blades.

Your mind has run away from you. It’s odd craving someone who doesn’t seem to like you all that much. You still don’t even know why he’s helping you.

As Rafe drives out of the lot, slower than he usually would, he hates that he likes the feeling of you wrapped around him this much. He’s been pushing this sort of closeness away for so long. He didn’t know it could feel so good.

As he drives beneath the glowing streetlights, he can’t remember the last time he felt proud of himself like he does now. The relief that washed over your face when he told you he’d stay at your house is replaying in his mind.

While he’s the one protecting you, you’re giving him something, too. You’re pulling him away from the sense of aimlessness he lives in every day.

Rafe goes to his place first, stuffing the things he’ll need to sleep over into a duffle bag and draping it across his chest, before driving to your house.

When you step through the front door together, he watches you quickly enter your code into the security panel, then rush to shut and lock the door.

You’re clearly still so terrified. Rafe needs to know exactly what Ty did to make you act like this.

“What’d he say to you?” he breaks the silence, dropping his bag into his hand. “Tonight. What’d he say?”

You lean against the door, hands tucked behind you as you look up at him. It’s odd, Rafe being in your house. You never thought he’d be here again.

“He asked me if I’m gonna hide behind you forever and what I’ll do when you’re not with me,” you say. It makes Rafe want to kill the idiot with his bare hands.

“I’d call the police,” you continue, “but they don’t help unless he actually does something. Or if there’s proof that he’s planning to. I just hope he gets tired of it so you don’t have to keep doing this.”

Rafe wants to tell you he’ll be here for you for as long as you need him. It’s a shock that his knee-jerk reaction is to make a promise to anyone, let alone to you.

But it’s no surprise that your focus is on how this is affecting him. He still can’t figure out what could possibly make you think he’s worth the consideration.

“Where am I sleeping?” he asks, settling for the easy way out of the conversation.

You lead him upstairs to the guest room a few doors down from your bedroom. Rafe’s eyes travel over the family photos organized in a neat grid on the hallway wall, watching you grow up through every image.

His heart lurches at an image of four people on the beach. It’s you two as kids, surrounded by your smiling mothers. He hasn’t looked at a photo of his mom in years.

You notice the sound of Rafe’s footsteps stop and you look back to see him staring at a photo. You’ve memorized the wall by now, knowing exactly which one he’s looking at.

What can you possibly say? That you miss her, too? You can’t come close to understanding his grief.

His forehead crinkles, his Adam’s apple bobs with a hard swallow, and you swear you see him stop breathing for a moment. Then his gaze darts off of the photo and you silently lead him the rest of the way.

Rafe enters the room you take him to and swings the door behind him without a word.

You get ready for bed and settle under your covers. Knowing you’re not alone helps you doze off within minutes.

You’re in a deep sleep when a loud clang pulls you into consciousness. Immediately, you fear it’s Ty.

But once you hear the tapping on the window, you realize it’s storming outside. A roll of thunder is what woke you up. You check the time to see it’s nearly two a.m.

Thunder rumbles again as you slip out of bed. Your survival instinct is beckoning you to go check on Rafe, to make sure he’s still here in case you need him.

You turn on the hallway light and see that the guest room door is just slightly open. And the bed is empty.

Before you can jump to conclusions, you hear a laugh track spilling out of the television downstairs. He didn’t leave.

You’re pretty sure Rafe doesn’t want you disrupting his solitude. But you need to know why he’s doing all this for you. It’s been tumbling in your mind since he agreed to it. That’s what gives you the push to go downstairs and find him.

(part three)

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[stargirllanaa]

Death Grips. II - R.C

Dark!Frat!Rafe Cameron x f!reader

Warnings: Dv( physical abuse),NONCON, Mentions of Dv, Cheating, mentions of cheating, abusive relationship, gaslighting, manipulation, frat!rafe, blackmail, emotional abuse, underage drinking, he’s an asshole guys

Summary: inspired by ‘death grips’ by Etta Marcus/ After a messy break up with Rafe Cameron your freshman year of college, he can’t seem to leave you alone. Whether you’re awake or asleep

Series masterlist 

A/n: hey guys, I’m currently out of the country so this took me a little longer than I wanted it to but hope u enjoy and pls leave feedback and lmk how u like it!

Part: II

………

As you stormed to your dorm, the only thoughts in your head were, What was the point of all of this? And Why was he doing all of this? He had already taken so much from you; why wasn't it enough? You thought you had been going crazy. First, it was the kiss at the party; now, this. I mean, did he still want power over you that bad?

~~~~

The sound of Rafe's engine created a soft hum behind the blaring sound of his music as he used one hand to steer through the night and the other to turn the volume up slightly before resting it comfortably on your thigh. Raindrops smacked hard against The windshield to be quickly whipped away the second they did.

You hadn't felt like yourself in a while. I mean, of course, you felt like yourself, but you felt like a shell, a casing of what you used to be. Your friends had noticed it too, and the abuse you had been enduring daily was getting harder to hide, not just the bruises but your overall mood; whenever you were happy, it didn't seem as big.

Whenever you were sad, it seemed like the end of the world. You constantly felt anxious, wondering if you would say the wrong thing to Rafe; honestly, it made you want to stay completely silent around him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your phone buzzing. It wasn't that important; it was just one of your classmates texting you about a project the two of you were working on together. What you hadn't noticed was Rafe peaking at your phone, too.

"Who's that?" Rafe questioned almost instantly, moving his eyes back and forth between you and the road.

"It's just Cam from my research class," you replied nonchalantly, scrunching your eyebrows as you tried to focus on reading the text.

"Didn't I tell you to block him?" Your boyfriend reminded you more than he asked, and his tone hit a dangerous edge.

"Yeah, but—"you try to backtrack and defend yourself before being cut off by the sound of your boyfriend hitting the steering wheel hard, making you flinch, almost as if he was trying to warn you to shut up.

"There is no ‘but’ if I tell you to do something... " he took a long breath, shaking his head. “You should respect me enough to do it." When you didn't respond, Rafe took that as a sign to do something to make you respond.

This happened very often. When it came to Rafe, you would tend to shut down, too scared to say the wrong thing.

As you stared out the window, not wanting to argue anymore, arms crossed over your chest, you noticed that the nearby scenery started to drift by faster than it should. Rafe's engine grew louder as his truck moved quicker, and when you looked at him, it all clicked. His knuckles were nearly white from gripping the steering wheel so tight, his eyes shifting back and forth from the road, and you in his face hard as a rock.

"R-Rafe?" You stuttered as the speed of his truck continued to grow, the speedometer moving further and further to the right. But he didn't say anything, and now he wasn't even looking at you, his eyes glued to the road as he continued to push the gas.

"Slow down." Your voice shakes as you try to speak calmly through your growing anxiety, your head whipping back and forth between the road and him. When he still didn't respond, you started to lose it.

"RAFE, SLOW THE FUCK DOWN!" You were now screaming through tears; this wasn't fucking funny at all. He was playing with your life, and if this wasn't a joke and he was seriously going to crash the car and kill you both over a text message, it made you feel even more stupid. Rafe had done more than enough for you to leave him, yet you were stupid because you still loved him and couldn't imagine yourself without him.

Instead of slowing down as you asked, Rafe hit the brakes forcefully, causing you to fly forward in your seat and slam your head hard against the dashboard.

"Fuck.." you mumbled under your breath, holding your now-pounding forehead.

Relief washed over you as you looked out the window to see your boyfriend had stopped the truck entirely, but that relief was short-lived when you turned to look at him and were met with cold, calculated blue eyes.

"Get out of my car." Rafe leaned closer, his voice low and dripping with a sinister calm. "I'm not playing around. Get out." The way he said it, flat and final, sent a chill down your spine.

You hesitated, trying to search his expression for any hint of remorse or softness, anything that could explain why he was acting this way. But his face was stone, unfeeling and unmoved by the terror and confusion that must have been clear in your eyes.

"Get out of my car," he repeated, his tone colder, firmer. But you just sat there, clutching your bag and staring at the windshield, hoping that if you didn't move, he'd realize how irrational he was being and calm down.

"Rafe, please… it's pouring out, and it's late. Just take me back to campus, and we can talk about this later," you pleaded, your voice shaking but determined not to show how scared you really felt.

But instead of softening, Rafe's expression hardened, and he leaned over, his hand reaching across to unlatch your seatbelt with a rough pull. "I told you to get out, and I'm not repeating myself again."

You flinched, holding onto the edge of the seat as if it would anchor you there. "No, You're not leaving me out here in the middle of nowhere. I'm not getting out," you replied, your voice firm despite the tremor behind it.

Without another word, Rafe climbed out of the driver's side and rounded the car to your door. The sound of the rain pounding on the roof intensified as he pulled your door open. In one swift motion, he reached in, grabbing your arm tightly, making you wince in pain. You tried to pull back, but his grip was too firm.

"Rafe, stop! Please!" you cried, your voice desperate as you clutched at the car door, digging your fingers into the edges, trying to hold on.

Ignoring your pleas, Rafe yanked harder, digging his nails into your skin as he pulled you from the seat until your feet hit the wet pavement. You stumbled, nearly slipping as he let go, and you could only stand there, drenched and shivering, watching him with wide eyes.

"Maybe you should ask Cam to come pick you up." he sneered before slamming the door shut and stepping hard on the gas. The tires spun momentarily, spraying water in your direction as he sped off into the night, leaving you alone on the empty road.

The silence that followed was thick and pressing; the only sound was the faint drumming of raindrops against the pavement. You felt as if you were standing outside of yourself, staring at this girl who looked so broken and small.

With a shaky breath, you fished your phone out of your pocket, fingers trembling as you scrolled to Cam's number. You hesitated for a second, feeling a strange, bitter sense of defeat. Rafe had already stripped so much of your self-worth; even calling Cam felt like another small submission to Rafe's control. But you couldn't stay here.

The phone rang twice before Cam's voice filled the line, warm and slightly sleepy. "Hey y/n?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out at first. The sob you'd been holding back escaped, the weight of the night pressing down on you all at once.

"Hey, are you alright?" Cam's tone shifted instantly, concern flooding his voice.

You took a deep breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. "Can you… can you come get me?"

~~~~~

As you woke up, your heart continued pounding from your dream. It felt so real, and it was for you at one point, and it felt like torture to keep having to relive it again.

~~~~~

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you looked out over the crowd. The night air was crisp, the stadium lights casting everything in a golden glow. You hadn't been to a football game in ages, and even though the noise and energy of the crowd were overwhelming, you were glad you'd let your friends drag you out here.

Your friend Bella leaned over, nudging you with a grin. "Isn't this so much better than moping in your dorm all night?"

You forced a smile, trying to match her enthusiasm. "Yeah, I'm glad I came." You meant it, or at least part of you did. They'd insisted you join them tonight, hoping to pull you out of the isolation you'd slipped into over the past few months. For a second, you almost didn't come, thinking of all the excuses you could make. But here you were, dressed in your school colors, surrounded by people who cared, trying to be normal again.

Yet, as you watched the players run across the field, your thoughts drifted to how much had changed. How you used to feel comfortable in crowds like these, carefree and loud. Now, it felt like a thin layer of normalcy you were trying to wear, hoping it would eventually fit.

As the game broke for halftime, you stood up. "I'm gonna grab some snacks. Anyone want anything?"

They all jumped at the offer. Mia gave you a list with a smirk. "Just think of it as your penalty for making us drag you out here."

Rolling your eyes, you headed for the concession stand, weaving through the crowd until you finally reached the line. It felt oddly peaceful to be alone, a chance to catch your breath from the excitement of the game and the effort of trying to act carefree.

But then, just as you stepped forward in line, a familiar voice behind you made your heart stop.

"Hey," Rafe murmured, his voice low and uncharacteristically soft.

You froze, debating whether to even turn around. You hadn't spoken to him since he ruined your breakfast last week, and you'd been determined to keep it that way. But something in his tone caught you off guard, and reluctantly, you glanced back at him.

"Can we talk?" he asked, hands shoved in his pockets. He looked almost contrite, but his eyes still held that edge, the exact look you'd seen too many times.

You crossed your arms, already feeling your walls go up. "What is there to talk about?"

He sighed, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. "I just think… we should put everything behind us. I mean, we're bound to see each other, and now that Topper and Mia are getting closer, it would be better if we could just… let it go."

Your jaw tightened. "Let it go? You mean forget everything you put me through?"

He shrugged as if that should be easy. "Look, that's just how I am, you know? You could never handle me—"

"You're right," you interrupted, your voice stronger than expected. "I couldn't handle the lying. I couldn't handle being with someone who hurt me just because that's who they are. I couldn't handle seeing you fuck another girl."

He barely flinched, his expression annoyingly indifferent. "You think you saw something. We were going through a rough patch anyway, and you know it."

Your hands shook as you clenched your fists, trying to keep your voice steady. "No, I saw it. You lied over and over and then acted like I was the crazy one for not believing you."

Rafe rolled his eyes as if he'd heard it all before. "Look, we don't have to keep going back and forth about this. I'm here trying to make things easier. If you want to keep holding on to some old grudge, that's on you."

You took a breath, forcing yourself to keep your composure. "Rafe, it's not a grudge—it's knowing who you are. I know you're never going to admit it, but I'm done pretending like you didn't ruin us."

He shrugged, dismissing your words with a half-smirk. "Fine, whatever you say."

Before you could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, feeling both angry and strangely free. You'd finally confronted him, and he'd shown you exactly who he was—again.

When you returned to your friends, arms full of snacks, Mia looked at you curiously. " Is everything okay?"

You forced a smile. "Yeah. Better than it's been in a while."

When the game reached its conclusion, as you walked towards the stadium's exit, a familiar voice caught your ear.

"hey, y/n!" The tall brunette man called out to you.

It was Cam. The two of you had become friends since he picked you up after Rafe left you on the street. Well, a little bit more than friends. You wouldn't say the two of you were dating because you'd never put a label on it. Still, you had been ‘talking’ to him since the beginning of the year and sleeping in his room occasionally.

You stopped in your tracks, asking your friends to wait for you before approaching him. He was leaning against a wall by himself, smirking at you as you walked over. It felt good to feel wanted, but part of you knew anything with Cam would never work because you couldn't even picture yourself being in another relationship after Rafe.

"I fancy seeing you here," Cam joked in a mock British accent, making you both cringe and slightly giggle.

You rolled your eyes, but a grin tugged at your lips. “Nice accent, really nailed it.”

Cam chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “What can I say? I aim to impress.” He leaned closer, his gaze settling on you with that familiar warmth. “So, you’re actually out tonight. Didn’t expect to see you at a game.”

“Yeah, it’s… been a while,” you admitted, shifting slightly as his hand found your arm, his fingers lingering just a bit longer than necessary. A warmth spread from where he touched, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper than friendship.

His fingers trailed down to your wrist, tracing lazy circles with his thumb. “You should come out more,” he murmured. “I miss seeing you around.” There was a glimmer of sincerity in his eyes that made you feel seen like he actually cared about you—not just as a friend, but something more.

You were about to respond when you felt an odd weight on you, as though someone was watching. You glanced over Cam’s shoulder, and your stomach twisted as you locked eyes with Rafe. He was leaning against the far wall, his expression dark and unreadable, his gaze trained on the two of you with a sharp intensity that sent a chill down your spine. But he didn’t make a move to approach. Instead, he just watched, his jaw tight and his eyes simmering between anger and resentment.

Cam must have noticed the shift in your expression because he gently cupped your face, drawing your focus back to him. “Hey, you okay?”

You blinked, forcing Rafe out of your mind as you looked back at Cam. The concern in his eyes melted away the anxiety for a second. “Yeah, sorry,” you murmured, leaning into his touch just a bit. “I’m good.”

He smiled, brushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Good. ‘Cause I’ve been wanting to ask if maybe you wanted to go out sometime, just us. You know… something different?”

The sincerity in his voice and the gentle touch of his hand on your cheek made you feel almost safe as if you could finally move forward. You smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

In your peripheral vision, you could still see Rafe standing there, unmoving, his gaze locked onto you. But this time, you didn’t look back. You stayed in the moment with Cam, focusing on his warm smile and its comfort, realizing maybe it was finally time to let yourself be happy.

~~~~~

You sat cross-legged on your bed, flipping idly through a textbook, when Mia burst into the room with a huge grin, practically bouncing on her heels.

“Guess what!” she announced, eyes shining with excitement.

You looked up, arching an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Topper invited me to the beach tonight,” she said, drawing out the last word with a delighted sigh. “And… he told me I could bring you, too.”

At that, you felt yourself go stiff. “Topper invited me? Why would he want me there?”

Mia rolled her eyes, crossing the room to sit beside you. “He’s just being nice! He knows we’re close, and he wants me to feel comfortable. And maybe he figured you’d be the best buffer in case things got, you know, awkward.”

You stared at Mia, skepticism etched across your face. “Mia, you know Topper and Rafe are best friends, right? You really think he just invited me along for the fun of it?”

Mia waved a dismissive hand, her expression somewhere between pleading and confident. “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but Topper promised me it wouldn’t be a big deal. Besides, this is about me and him. You’re just my plus-one, so I don’t feel like I’m getting in too deep alone.”

You folded your arms, still unconvinced. “And you don’t think Rafe’s going to be there? I haven’t exactly been dying to see him.”

Mia huffed, crossing her arms to match your posture. “Okay, I get that, but you don’t have to talk to him. Just be there with me and have a good time. We can stick together, and if he even looks at you wrong, I’ll drag you out of there myself.”

You could see how badly she wanted you to say yes, and you were tired of feeling like the shadow of your past with Rafe was lurking over everything. Maybe if you went, it would feel less like he was still dictating your life from a distance. Still, the thought of facing him—even at a crowded beach with Mia by your side—made your stomach twist.

“Fine,” you finally sighed, feeling your defenses weakening. “I’ll go. But if he starts anything, we’re leaving. Promise?”

Mia grinned and crossed her fingers. “Promise. And trust me, this is going to be good for you. Just give it a shot.”

……

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

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[winnisblur]

“Cracks In Our Hearts.”

pairing ❤︎‬: gender neutral reader x sunghoon. w.c ‪‪❤︎‬: 4.5 - 5k (it’s word vomit at its finest) synopsis ‪‪❤︎‬: you’re a player in squid game, and thanks to a certain square guard, you’ve managed to survive (and get fucked).

this fic includes ‪‪❤︎‬: smut so mdni, death(s?), blood, sunghoon is a guard and is hot with a mask and pistol, he’s also cold(i think that’s the word), reader just trying to survive, ends up dying tho lol, bathroom sex, choking, pain and gun kink, degradation, sunghoon is actually a jerk beneath the mask, so is reader, unprotected sex, readers skin colour nor private parts are mentioned and etc.

warnings ‪‪❤︎‬: english isn’t my first language, not really proofread so srry about that, and i’m nervous af cus this is my first time writing T-T, this is based off of s1 so spoilers ahead (for those who haven’t watched both seasons”.

…..I shouldn't have survived the first game.

The thought clings to me like a stain as I sit cross-legged on the cold gray floor of the dormitory. Around me, everyone's faces wear that same haunted look-eyes sunken, shoulders hunched-but it does nothing to erase this truth: I'm still here, and a hundred others aren't.

My hands shake as I clutch the bottle of water they gave us, the only comfort in this nightmare. “Red Light, Green Light” was supposed to be simple. A childish game, nothing more. But then, when the first shot went off, the simplicity was in pieces. I kept my head down, my steps calculated. An act of luck rather than any skill saved me. Halfway, my legs had locked, but the chaos around saved me. I was too scared even to breathe, let alone blink while that giant, doll-like machine scanned the field. The screams. The silence. They cling to me as much as the relief of being alive.

But that leaves me with just one question: how long will I last?

Dalgona Game

As the guards herd us into the grounds, that feeling of luck is not there.

The sun knocks heavily upon the earthy ground, and a whispering wave curls through the players. In front of us stood a table piled high with tins, each containing the next nightmare: “Dalgona candy.” The guard with the square mask appears to be in charge; he steps forward. His voice rumbles from behind his mask. "You will each choose a tin. Inside is a shape. Your task is to extract the shape from the candy without breaking it. You will have ten minutes."

That's it? A shape?

But then I look at the examples on the display-circle, triangle, star…and an umbrella. My stomach does a flip. Not just precision, but luck too. A wrongly picked tin means my death. The queue moved fast; shaking hands reached for tins, people picking as if their lives depended on it. Because they do.

When it's my turn, I force myself to breathe and reach for the one closest to me. The metal feels cool and heavy in my hands. I don't even open it right away, afraid to see what fate I've chosen. Finally, I lift the lid.

The umbrella stares back at me.

"Great," I mutter under my breath. I look around, and there are a few groaning in despair as they unveil their shapes. Most got stars or circles—luckies. The timer starts, and the courtyard almost becomes a battlefield of concentration. People start licking their candies, tapping needles at them, and quite a few try to bite them. I take the given needle and gently press it against the candy. The sound of cracking candy nearby makes my heart run. I start shaking and tracing the thin, delicate lines of the umbrella. "Steady," I say to myself. Halfway through, it happened.

Snap.

The handle of the umbrella broke off clean. My blood ran cold.

It was over.

Instantly, my head jerks up to find the nearest guard. They are already converging on other players who busted their candies. I heard shots ring out and immediately froze. That is when I see him.

One of the square-guards, taller than the others, stops a few feet away. I cannot see his face, yet there is something different in the way he looks at me. His head tilts slightly, studying me, and for that one fleeting instant, the noise falls away. Then he takes another step closer.

"No," I whisper. Shivering, my heartbeat surges as I hold the shattered candy tightly against my body, to hide it from view. But instead of brandishing his weapon, he leans in and whispers, "Pretend you're still working." I stare up at him, appalled. "Do it," he says sharply in a low voice, and I automatically comply. I push the broken pieces together, my hands shaking so severely it's a wonder they don't break into a hundred more pieces. The guard-he-stands close enough that I can sense his presence. He occasionally looks around, subtly blocking the other guards' view of me. “Why?" I dare to whisper. He says nothing.

Minutes tick by-although by some miracle, no one notices my snapped candy. When the buzzer goes off, I hold my breath for the worst to happen. Instead, the square-guard advances, feigning that he's inspecting the other players. Somehow, I get away.

The dormitory is noisier tonight. Some are cheering, others crying, but I do not think of anything besides him. Why did he save me? Was this some sort of mistake? A test? My head runs with the different connotations, but no sensible fact makes sense. Guards are not supposed to show mercy.

When the lights dim for night, I am awake. I play that moment in my head over and over-the quiet authority in his voice, the way he lingered just long enough to save me. There's just no getting answers, yet I couldn't help my mind from running over and over with thoughts of him.

Sunghoon’s POV

This was reckless.

I lean against the wall of the guard quarters, helmet in my hands, and let my breath out slowly. My heart hasn't stopped racing since I saw them-their trembling hands, the way they froze when their candy broke. I should've ignored it. I should've done my job. But something about the way their eyes widened, filled with fear and determination, stopped me. I don't know why I helped them. It wasn't out of pity. It wasn't out of guilt.

It was them.

I have seen hundreds of players, most of them desperate enough or selfish enough to catch nothing but their own survival. But they're different. I shouldn't be feeling this way. Guards aren't supposed to feel anything. Yet every time I think about their face, my resolve cracks just that little bit more.

If anyone finds out, I'm as good as dead.

But somehow, I just can't seem to care. Tomorrow's another game, another chance to see them. I just hope I can keep my distance.

For both our sakes.

The Next Day

I wake up to this gnawing feeling in my chest. It isn't the ache in my limbs or the exhaustion of staying up all night, reliving the events of the Dalgona game in my head; it's the dread of what comes next.

Another game, another chance to die.

They walk us to the next arena as effectively, coldly, with all the same efficiency of people used to doing a day's labor. My head was down, letting myself just become part of a whole, not standing out too much. The cold-faced, geometric-mask-covered guard statues line the wall opposite. My eyes fly toward each square mask.

Grievously stupid. Insane even-but what did it matter? Had he watched me just then? Was he going to try to save me?

A small part of me wants him to, but the larger part is reminding me of one crucial thing: here, I am on my own. Completely and utterly. Not even him.

Sunghoon’s POV

There they are.

Perched atop the arena above, my eyes find them in a heartbeat. They scan the guards again, their shoulders tense, eyes keen despite the exhaustion clinging to every player out there. I shouldn't watch them. Shouldn't give a damn.

Yet I can't peel my eyes away, though. Still alive, that's what matters.

My grip tightens on the rifle in my hands as the Robotic Female’s voice booms across the arena, announcing the rules for today’s game. I already know what’s coming. Another trial, another bloody mess.

And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure they survive. Even if it means breaking every rule I’ve sworn to follow.

The Tug-of-War Twist

We are brought to a very large outdoors arena, with several platforms towering up to the sky. Ropes traverse atop thick, and beneath these? A fall so long I could hardly see the bottom.

Tug-of-war.

The explanation is simple: teams of ten; whoever wins lives. Losers. well, the fall does the talking. I'm pushed towards a group, and panic bursts in my chest as I realize the dynamics are uneven. None of them appear to be very strong. A few even shake so hard that I don't think they can hold the rope.

This is bad.

The guards line the edges, rifles in place to take out anyone showing even a millisecond of hesitation. My eyes flicker to them out of instinct, and there he is-square guard. His posture is stiff, but his helmet angles toward me as I step on the platform. Is he looking at me?

The thought's cut off by a buzz. And with that, the first match begins. I am horrified as the opposing team pulls with ruthless precision. Losing is being dragged, inch by inch, toward the edge. Their screams echo when the rope jerks once more, sending them plunging into the void.

This isn't just about strength. It's strategy.

When it's our turn, I reach for the rope, my palms already slick with sweat. My team looks hopeless, all whispering prayers and clutching at whatever scraps of courage they can muster. The opposing team, however, is all muscle.

"Pull!" someone yells as the buzzer sounds, and I dig my heels into the platform. The rope's abraded heat against my palms sears the skin as we're yanked forward. Arms scream, legs wobble-it feels like we are seconds away from catastrophe. "Lean back! Use your weight!" someone yells, but it's futile. We're losing so much ground. That's when I saw him.

The square-guard stood near the edge, his head cocked as he watched me. For what feels like an eternity he doesn't move, before finally he moves a step closer and leans on his rifle at his shoulder. I'm stuck until his hand moves after all, and it does really slowly.

It was the signal.

I watch transfixed as his gloved hand takes direction toward the other guys on the opposition side of this platform, then he tap-dances his foot quickly yet small - almost in a blur-close around anchor point holding their ropes steady. My eyes widen.

Is he telling me their side is rigged?

I have no time to think. I lean back with all my strength and yell to my team, "Pull to the left! They're off balance!" The others hesitate but follow my lead, shifting our weight. The opposing team stumbles, losing their footing, and in the chaos, I catch something flicker in the corner of my vision-a quick, subtle motion from his side.

The anchor point snaps.

The opposing team barely has time to act before they're pulled forward, screaming as they tumble into the abyss. We collapse onto the platform, gasping for air. Relief washes through me, tainted with disbelief.

I should be dead.

I glance toward him again but he's already gone, sucked back into the sea of guards. Tonight, I cannot get him out of my mind. The square-guard. The one who has saved me over and over again. No one else is paying any attention to anything but celebration or mourning as I slip into the shadows near the edge of the dormitory. The guards patrol the perimeter, their masks gleaming under the dim lights. And then I see him.

He leans against the wall, a little apart from the others. As I approach him, my heart pounds, and every step sounds louder than it should. "What are you doing?" I whisper. His head snaps toward me, and for a second, I think I have made a mistake. But then he steps forward, his voice low and sharp. "You shouldn't be here."

"Neither should you," I shoot back, emboldened by adrenaline. "You've been helping me. Why?” He hesitates, glancing around before tugging me further into the darkness. "You shouldn't ask questions you don't want answers to," he says. "I think I deserve an answer," I say, crossing my arms over my chest despite the tremble in my hands. "You've saved my life twice. Don't act like that's normal." For a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a sigh, he lifts his mask just enough for me to see his face.

He's younger than I expected. Sharp jawline, intense eyes that seem to pierce right through me. "You stood out," he admits, his voice softer now. "Most people here…they're just trying to survive. But you-" He catches himself, as if he's said too much. "But what?" I press.

“You fight," he says so simply. "Even when you're scared. Even when you shouldn't." The words dangle in the air, between us like a challenge. Heavy, electric. "I don't know why I do these things," he continues more irritably. "But if you wanna stay alive, don't trust me. Don't trust no one." His words shouldn't assure me, and yet suddenly, for the first time since I have been here, I do feel one thing: hope.

"Thanks," I say under my breath. He doesn't answer, but pulls his mask back down and steps away, leaving me in the shadows.

I trudge up the stairs, the fluorescent lights above me flickering with every labored step my legs take. It was mountainous, but I had survived another game, another step closer to whatever hellish end this place had in store. The other players say nothing. Their faces are hollow, their skin pale. No one dares speak anymore. Silence is safer.

I stop on the last step as a guard blocks my path. Square mask. My heart catches. "What's this?" I say, sharper than I mean to. Exhaustion has sucked any tolerance from me. "You're flagged," he says bluntly. "There's suspicion you might be carrying something you shouldn't be. You'll have to be searched." My blood turns cold. Suspicion? Prohibited? “That's crazy," I say, my panic rising into my chest. "I don't have anything-"

"Follow me." There's no request about it. The other players glance my way, their eyes wide and wary, but they don't get involved. They're too frightened to risk drawing attention to themselves. I hesitate, my mind racing. If this is a setup, if they think I've broken a rule, this could be it. This could be my end.

But I have no choice. Taking a deep breath, I follow the guard down a dimly lit corridor and into a bathroom. The sound of the door locking behind me makes me shiver. “Turn around," the guard instructs in a cold, emotionless voice. I do so, my heart racing. "Look," I begin, "I don't know what you think I've done, but-"

"Stop talking.” It cuts through my protest, and there's something about it-something familiar. I turn to face them, my brow furrowing. “What is this?" I ask. "Who are you?" For a moment, they don't respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, the guard lifts their mask. My breath catches.

It's him.

The square-guard who's been helping me. The one I thought was gone, fired, or worse-killed for breaking the rules. "You-" I stutter, my voice barely above a whisper. "I had to see you," he says, his voice soft, yet urgent. "I couldn't stay away any longer." I blink, trying to process the rush of emotions-relief, confusion, anger. "I thought you were-what happened to you? Why did you stop-" "I had to lay low," he interrupts. "They were watching me. But I'm still here. I don't know what to say. My mind is racing, torn between gratitude and frustration. “Why did you bring me here?" I ask finally.

His eyes lock with mine, intense and unyielding. “Because I couldn't take it anymore," he says, his voice low, stepping closer. "Watching you risk your life, knowing I couldn't do anything to stop it-it's been driving me insane." I swallow hard, my heart racing as he closes the gap between us. "You shouldn't be doing this," I whisper. "If they find out—"

"I don't care," he says with finality. "I've already broken the rules for you. What's one more?" And before I can say another word, his hands frame my face, and he kisses me. It's not soft or tentative-it's desperate, raw, like he's pouring every ounce of fear and longing into the moment. I'm stuck in a freeze-frame moment for a second, mind whipping. Then I yield and cling to his uniform while kissing him back with every ounce of fierce intensity of my own. The world falls away, and I feel something other than fear for the first time since this nightmare kicked off.

But not for long.

He pulls away, forehead resting against mine, hard breaths mingling between our lips. "I can't protect you anymore," he says, his voice cracking. "Not with what's coming." I search his face, my chest tightening at the pain in his eyes. "You've already done more than enough," I whisper. He shakes his head. "It's not enough. It'll never be enough."

A heavy silence falls between us, and I know this is goodbye. Expect it wasn’t actually, his lips captured mine again, his lips….almost saying they wanted me, needed me. That is until he broke the kiss again, and pinned my back against the cold, colorful tiled wall of the bathroom. His body language seemed like he has longed for the dramatic (sort of) crash of holding me against the wall, kissing me like he was dreaming about this every single minute of the day.

He winced as my nails raked across his back through his pink suit, he probably felt like his outfit was being torn by my nails, which could get us both in trouble if that was actually to happen. He winced again as he took ahold of my wrists and slammed them to the wall in retaliation, wedging his knee between my thighs, which made a gasp leave my lips at the slightest bit of friction I was getting from his thigh.

“Didn’t know you were this desperate for me,” he teased after breaking the heated kiss for the nth time, leaving him and me breathless, panting with saliva connecting us. His low chuckle echoed through the empty, now suffocating bathroom, and making his vampire teeth pop out. “it’s laughable, really. Does the games make you horny?” he teased yet again, raising his thick eyebrows in a way that seemed mockingly, his thigh moving back and forth slightly, earning a whine from my lips as he chuckled like he was enjoying me being teased. “Does your life being on the line make you horny? You sadist bit-“ Pain blistered across Sunghoon’s cheek, he couldn’t help but grin as it sent shockwaves of sensation tearing across his body. Adrenaline hummed through his veins as he hungrily kissed me again, choking me with his gloved hands. I thrashed, ripping at the back of his head by a fistful of hair and biting down hard on his lower lip. Both of our lips were bleeding now, but the metallic tang only made him deepen the kiss even more, greedily trying to taste much of it as possible, masochist much?

“Fucking slut,” He hissed, licking blood and spit from my chin. “You’re a cunt and a dick, a motherfucking cunt and dick sucker.” I hissed back, he chuckled. He fucking chuckled this was all a fucking a circus show for him. “Damn right,” he teased. “But only good girls or boys get their cunts and dicks sucked by me, which isn’t you unfortunately.” he grinned, his hips rolling against my privates, yet again another chuckle slipped from his lips like he enjoyed watching me being frustrated sexually, and I could confirm it just by looking at his eyes that had a glint, a glint of giddiness everytime pain was inflicted upon me.

I hooked my foot behind his knee, forcibly collapsing it. First, he tries making me shit in my pants from coming out of nowhere and telling me that I had to be pat down, makeouts with me, choked me and almost knocked out all of the air in me, calls me names and now his hand is reaching up to my knee to bring me down with him…great. He smirked as he yanked me down onto him, flipping me onto my back and pinning me to the cold floor now instead. He gave just one slow, merciless grind of his hips against mine, and I’m only just realising but…he’s fucking big.

“Who said that…I want you to fucking suck me off or eat me out?” I bit out, nursing my injured lip to keep from moaning as he set out a torturously slow pace through our clothes. “It seems pretty eager to me,” Sunghoon teased, gloved fingertips dipping beneath the waistband of my pants. “I bet I could make you cum in- shit-!” His head smacked harder against the tiles than it should have as I tossed him onto his back, thighs clenched tightly around his hips. The throbbing pain only added to the throbbing pleasure as I rolled my hips. “Just who do you think fucking I am? Just- fuck- just because I’m trying to survive and win doesn’t mean I’m gonna be your fucking bitch.” Sunghoon grinned up at me, I was already flushed bright red and riding his hips with rough, desperate japs of my hips. “Big talk for someone who’s riding me like their life depends on it, ironically.” he snickers. “I can feel you, asshole. You’re in the same situation as I am!” Sunghoon smirked, and in one quick move, he snatched my wrist and rocketed back to his feet, spinning me back around and leaving me face-first against the wall. “You might not be able to kill people like me, and neither I could survive the games you’re playing but god…you’re right, I do want you.” I shuddered at his deep voice. I shifted, legs spreading to support myself better and Sunghoon slotted his knee right between them once more, hands settling on my waist as I got my one free hand between me and the wall, trying to push and give myself some space. I only succeeded in pushing our bodies closer than before, his cock nestled firmly against my ass.

“Let me have you,” Sunghoon purred, squeezing my waist and slowly moving up my sides the way that turned me into putty. I moaned, shuddering again. “Fuck you! If you want me so badly, then come and take it, take me!” well, that is an invitation that Sunghoon hasn’t heard before, even before doing this whole crazy guard thing at a unknown island. He growled, jerking my pants down in a hurry, like he actually couldn’t believe that his dreams are about to come true. I threw my elbow back, but Sunghoon just pinned my wrist back to the wall. “Stop being a fucking brat,” he hissed. I struggled and choking back a moan, feeling the material of his pink suit against my bare ass. “Get your shitty ass outfit outta the way,” I demanded. “Shit feels like sandpaper!” I hissed. “So sensitive and demanding,” he cooed, even as he let me have both hands back to brace myself against the wall. Sunghoon didn’t dare to move back and give me an opening to escape, only reaching up to unzip his suit and free himself, mostly his cock that was strained against the fabric and begging for friction as it twitched in his underwear. I adjusted, leaning away long enough for Sunghoon to free himself. “If you were me, you’d complain too!” I hissed. “Yeah, yeah, stop running your big mouth. You want it or not?” he rolled his eyes, his suit and underwear failing to his ankles as he leaned forward, completely trapping me between him and the cold wall, his bare cock resting just on my ass, just right where I needed him, so far yet so close. “I told you you fucking idiot, just take it-“ Sunghoon couldn’t help but thrust all of his cock in one go. Making me moan out loud at the blissful pain from the thrust.

For Sunghoon, you were a wet dream come true to life; Sunghoon’s cock glided through you without resistance, soft and slick, tightening only as he rutted against a known sweet spot along your walls. I moaned, arching my back, wrapping tightly around him. He groaned in response, leaning over me, his hands covering mine, fingers almost interlocked. The sweat on my neck left a layer of salt on Sunghoon’s tongue, but beneath it was nothing but you. Sunghoon muffled his own moans against my throat, sucking and biting his way down to my shoulders. I turned my head, covering my mouth with the inside of my elbow as he fucked me against the wall. Sunghoon hiked me up onto my tiptoes, leaning back to appreciate the view, your skin glistened with sweat under the fluorescent lights. “…Please, I’m close da- fuck-!” your words and moans rang loud in his ears, in the bathroom, the silence sharpening your cries. They acted as pokers to the hot coals of fire in the pit of Sunghoon’s stomach, making him embarrassed over how loud you were, neither was the wet and loud sound of skin smacking was making it any better. If any of his fellow guards were outside or just a tad bit close to the bathroom, he’s fucked and killed to death alongside with you.

That is when Sunghoon got an idea, an idea that satisfies his other personality, the one that was created whilst being here for a very long time that he has lost sense of time, and that is fear. He lives off of the idea of goosebumps appearing on the player’s skins just before he kills them, and in this case, while he’s fucking them and practically making them cock-drunk from his stroke game. Sunghoon leaned down and grabbed his long forgotten, abandoned pistol on the floor, aiming the barrel at your forehead, and with that his thrusts became harder, sloppier but you…you were terrified. Terrified on why there’s a gun to your head suddenly, is he going to kill you after using you like a worthless, lifeless sexdoll? Is that what’s going to happen? You couldn’t lie to yourself because the thought kinda turned you on and made you wetter even more, because you wouldn’t mind being his sexdoll if his cock was constantly inside you and making you go brainless. “Stop moaning like a whore unless you want me to pull the trigger right now, and kill you before they find us.” he threatened lowly in my ear, licking and bitting as he tried to muffle his own sounds. By now, you knew you looked pathetic with your eyes red, red and snotty nose as tears stained and wet your flushed cheeks as you began to bite onto your ragged and bloody jacket, trying to keep quiet because as much as it turned you on at the thought of dying on his dick, but you valued your life at the moment because, living longer equals bouncing on his dick for even more before you die.

Sunghoon barely managed to pull out on time, painting his pleasure all over your ass. He grinned at the realisation that you were still haven’t even came yet, still hanging on the edge as he lowered his pistol and patted his gloved hand on your ass, watching it jiggle with the motion of his hand, giggling to himself as he brought his head up and was met with the sight of you, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed at him. “Get your own self off, brat.” he teased, putting on his suit back and mask, giving you one last cocky glance before he makes sure he looks presentable in the mirror and walks out on you, leaving you frustrated at him, at not being pleasured enough, at the games, and yourself because behind his handsome looks, he’s actually just like the other guards, ruthless and cold.

The Final Game

The days blur all together.

The games are getting more brutal, and the players, myself included, are growing desperate. Every moment feels like a race against time, against fate. The tension among the remaining participants is palpable. We’ve all become numbers now, not people—just pawns in a game that doesn’t care about our lives. The final game is announced, and my heart skips a beat.

It's the one everybody's afraid of: the glass bridge.

We line up in a row, one behind the other, in front of the two routes laid out before us, each comprising several glass panels, some strong and some weak. We had to walk over them and choose appropriate ones to cross or plunge to death. A shiver runs down my spine as the first few players go up front, and what happened was inevitable. One after another, they fall. Screams pierce the cold air, but clear had been the instruction from the guard that no one was to move unless his turn came upon him. Just as I'm about to take my first step, I suddenly feel. something.

It's him.

The square-guard above watches on, his eyes tracking my every movement, and for a split second, our gazes meet. The connection is brief, but it's enough. I don't know what to make of it, but something in the way he watches me is different. There's something in his eyes-something almost…regretful.

It's my turn.

I step onto the bridge, my legs trembling as creaks come from within the glass as my body weight presses down upon it. The first few steps are just fine. My luck has to turn sometime. The crack starts to give under me and I freeze. I looked back, and that is when I see it-something shifting in Sunghoon's posture. Moving.

Too late.

Balance is lost.

I heard him scream my name-my real name, not a number-and did not care. I fell. This was a never-ending fall. The world spun and the only thing I was aware of was air rushing in as I dropped with the pretty firm knowledge I'd not live to cry out.

And then, there was nothing.

Sunghoon's POV

The world is silent.

I stand in stock-stillness, my heartbeat the only sound of the drumbeat as their body disappears into the void below, and with every shattered piece of me. I should have. I should have—

My fist slams against the metal wall. Its echo rings out into that space. Why didn't I act sooner? Why couldn't I pull them back? Why couldn't I protect?

I close my eyes, the guilt suffocating me. This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to feel this way. But here I am, crushed under the weight of it, the weight of my failure. I should never have gotten involved. I should never have helped them.

But I couldn't stop myself.

And now…

I failed.

I failed them.

The game goes on, but Sunghoon's mind is a maelstrom.

The rest of the players are like shadows, their faces hollow with fear and exhaustion. To Sunghoon, however, time has stopped. He stares at the rest of the players, his eyes searching among them for any sign of the one he couldn't protect. Every step weighs too much to be taken. Every decision he makes feels like a mistake. And when the final buzzer goes off, he barely hears it.

It's the end of the day now, and it doesn't matter anymore.

The only thing filling Sunghoon's head is the weight of his own guilt. The others are rejoicing, but his mind is consumed by you-your face, your eyes, and the time you spent together. He had never gotten the chance to say goodbye.

And he never will.

[cinhomi]

𝑈𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑑

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Han Jisung x fem reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you and your soulmate in a random morning of May

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, smut

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: descriptions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, no dynamic specified, vanilla, talks of death and afterlife

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9K

“Ji?”

It's warm. The Sun’s rays penetrate the cream colored curtains of his bedroom and dance on your naked skin. The tree outside paints stunning shadows that turn into shapes that move with the light, in a psychedelic motion that molds with your bodies. A pantone of warm colors reflects everywhere and it's as if they're about to spill in your heart, too.

“Yeah, baby?”

His voice is barely a whisper, his breath tickles your ear. You can feel his hand move from your side to go up, up, until it reaches your neck and his fingers delicately close round it. You feel his bottom lip first, then the upper one, as he starts to leave little pecks on your nape, your jawline. The presence of his other arm is persistent, under you, dragging you closer until your back is flat on his chest. The pendant of his necklace starts to leave a print between your shoulder blades.

“Do you think there's life after death?”

He halts his actions. Jisung leaves another kiss behind your ear and inhales, hoping to get drunk with your scent. His hand caresses your cheek, and then travels down to your arm, finding your wrist, taking it close to his pretty mouth to rest there, to let him kiss it. He presses your digits on his lips and gives attention to each of them. It takes him a while to reply, but you give him all the time he needs.

“I like to believe that there is, yes.” his eyes close for a moment, it's almost as if he wants to memorize your fingerprints. “Where does this question come from, baby?”

When you turn around to face him you find his faint smile, his adoring eyes that trail from your chest, to your lips, to your own irises. There's a rebelling tuft of curly hair that stands alone on his head, and the mole on his cheek moves whenever he swallows. You caress the one placed on his collarbone, before taking a deep breath. “I just… I was thinking- when we die… our body remains here, right?”

Jisung nods and hums, brows furrowing slightly, trying to predict the path your thoughts will take.

“And, wouldn't it be sad if it all ended… like that? Or maybe- or maybe that's the beauty of it? In the end we really always kind of leave a piece of us here. Being it bones or ashes…"

He hooks the necklace he gifted you the night prior, twistes it in his hand and watches it shine. “I always feel like we're too big to just end with death, you know? I don't know if we actually reincarnate or if something like Heaven or Hell exists, but I don't want to- no, I can't accept the idea of disappearing from the universe completely.” he explains, all while bringing you close to him again, your breasts now against his chest, your leg brushing his glutes as he takes it to rest on his hip. “Do you agree?”

“Yeah,” you pout, your hands open to feel his muscles tense under your touch, “we are immense. Don't you ever think that, sometimes, you have strong feelings about something because you were connected with it in your previous life?”

Jisung nods, he leaves a kiss on the crown of your head. “For example?” he chimes in, resting his head on your pillow.

“Well,” you start, a hint of a giggle already threatening your voice, “maybe you're scared of bugs because in a previous life one killed you!” and a light slap can be heard on your shoulder as he shakes his head trying to suppress a smile.

“I thought you were about to be all cute and reference us… tch.” he looks at the ceiling, faking being offended.

“What do you mean?” and at your question his farce crumbles immediately, enamored eyes staring down at you.

“Maybe we're together now because we were lovers in our past life, too. No?”

All words die in your throat. There's a block forming in the pit of your stomach and your waterline starts to tingle.

“From the first moment my eyes laid on you, I knew you were the one. Sometimes I think I've known you all my existence, sometimes I wonder if we come from the same star.”

“Ji…” before he can see your expression you bury your head in his chest, “this is disgustingly romantic…”

He giggles. You look at him again just to get a glimpse of his gummy smile, maybe searching for the crooked teeth he had once. You miss it sometimes.

Jisung gets up on his elbows and in moments like these he seems bigger. His shoulders are up straight, chest popped up, slim waist twisted making the faint lines of his abs become curves. You'd look at his thighs and at his cock too, but grey cotton sheets cover it all.

“But it's true! It's true… I refuse to believe otherwise. We're together in every universe, baby.” his gaze fixed on yours. “Is it childish to think so?”

You shake your head, blinking slowly. Sunlight is still a bit too strong, your eyes straining from it, but the way it reflects on him, it's mesmerizing. Jisung takes your face in his hands and kisses you, tenderly, totally opposed to how he did it the night prior. It's so sweet, it's overwhelmingly sweet and you can't help but melt as his index finger caresses the corner of your eye, as his thumb taps your bottom lip for him to take between his. There's still a slight ache between your legs but it's a lovely feeling. There's still the smell of your juices, your panties by the end of the bed, his shirt hanging on the corner of his TV.

“I'll find you in every universe,” he whispers between kisses, “I'll be by your side, even if we become different things, I'll- I'll find a way, angel, I'll find it.” more urgently, his cold rings roam on your back, lifting you up enough to have his arms around you. It makes you sigh, it makes you whimper.

“I- I want-” you gasp, his tongue is under your jaw and it keeps on traveling down every valley of your body. There are soft but obnoxious sounds now echoing in the room. There's also a dog barking in the distance, few cars passing by, someone opening their shutters. “I want everything I lost to- come back to me, Jisung…”

His head is now on your belly, he stays there with his eyes closed. Jisung sighs. He kisses your belly button and goes even lower, almost disappearing under the covers.

“It will…” he inhales your smell, you, groaning against your navel, “it's already here angel. You may not be seeing it, but you're already surrounded by it. You said that, we just leave our bodies-” he checks on your expression quickly. “You feel it, don't you?”

He sees your eyelashes flutter and your head moving up and down. Jisung kisses your clit, and then your labia, and his eyes roll back when your soft sounds reach him. When your leg lifts and your knee presses on his cheek, nudging him away, big round confused eyes run all over you once again.

“Inside…” even if the sentence floats between you too, Jisung understands. He comes up and the way the freshly clean cotton falls from his figure reminds you that time at the lake, when he came out from the water to make love to you under a willow. He's hard, you feel it against your thigh.

“Need me to stretch you?” he's whispering, he's kissing your left shoulder. As you shake your head, his tip is already catching in your entrance.

“It'll be okay baby. I know you miss them, but your heart is big,” his cock slowly slips inside you as he speaks, “your heart is big and I love you for this reason.” and then you find yourself full, of him, of his sweet words, full of light and sorrow and sadness and cheesecake. You feel so many things, it's only natural that some tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but Jisung kisses them all away, but Jisung hushes you and rolls his hips deeper into you, with the same rhythm of the tap of your kitchen sink, that broke two days ago. Later he’ll call someone to fix it.

When your palms glide on his back you feel bumps, formed as long streaks. You close your eyes, you touch them like a blind person reading braille, you try to read him. It's written “I love you” all over. He adores it when you hold him flush over you, when your nails cling to him as he thrusts into you, adores your delirant praise, hushed under your breath.

Jisung drags his voice in long moans, you feel them hot on your neck, they alternate with hisses while his eyes squeeze shut and fight to stay open, to witness how your own face moves. They reverberate in your chest and your heart is being caressed. What was warm light now is scorcingly hot directly against your bodies, a sheen of sweat making you sparkle. It's such a nice day, you should grab coffee together later. Take his sunglasses maybe. His hoodie. His soul. He doesn't mind.

“Baby…” it's hoarse now, it'll sound melodic again when he's calm, “baby you are my everything-” his hips pick up speed, they falter, his thighs burn. When you wrap your legs on his lower half, when your heels press on him they stutter and Jisung chokes on his own words. You feel the tell-tale throbs in his cock, you feel the way his hands grip the flesh of your hips, and your walls closing around him.

“Ji- baby, look at me, look me in the eyes-” it's afternoon already. He lifts properly, both hands on the sides of your head. Jisung looks you in the eyes. Jisung, he tells you that he loves you repeatedly as he feels his high so close he thinks he's going to pass out. Your pussy sucks him in whenever he retracts his cock, he hears the change in your voice. You'll go on a walk together tonight.

He does as you asked, never closes his eyelids. He's like a god falling apart, stilling into you, orgasm crashing over him like a tidal wave. It's him, it's his expression that makes you arch your back, it's him greedily covering every millimeter of skin he sees with his wet lips, it's his praise, his “baby”, his cum deep inside you. You exist. In that moment you're sure you exist because Jisung breathes life into you, because when you come for him he circles your clit and smiles. You die and then you're alive again.

Jisung stays there for a while, he keeps smiling, teeth grazing your chest and collar bones as you both start to giggle. You feel the ache again and it's comforting.

"I don't care about dying, angel. I mean, I don't want to, but… it's okay because I already knew happiness, you know?” he closes his eyes.

It's a hot day of May and few butterflies appear to do their dance in the air. It's a hot day of May and you discuss about life and death like it's nothing, like you talk about the weather. It's a hot day of May and it's easy to love, to exist, to accept the end of existence. It's just a day like the others, and that's beautiful.

“I know.” your reply comes before a sigh. You'll have to say goodbye to coffee and think about lunch. “You have to tell your mom I need her kimchi recipe, okay?”

a.n.

life is beautiful, please live it to its fullest and enjoy every moment, even if it brings pain, even if it seems dark, please cherish it. life is beautiful and you deserve to think so. I love you, take care of yourself.

[cheegu3]

Hi

Can you write the reaction of yander skz when the reader ignores them?

warnings; yandere relationship / yandere themes, abuse, torture, violence, jealousy, possessiveness, depression, mentions of blood and punishments, choking, talks of sex, swearing, sadism

Stray kids - reaction to reader ignoring them

Bang Chan

He would have none of it. Like most times when you knew you'd fucked up, his face went stoic; dead of emotion, smile dropping in a second and his voice disappearing, fading immediately.

He would give you a death stare, which he admittedly enjoyed doing more than anything. He'd give anything to see that look of pure terror striking your face be replayed over and over again in his head.

You ignoring him once was all he needed to lose any bit of happiness he had felt during the day. It didn't matter if you'd been good all week; on your best behavior. None of that mattered as soon as you turned away from him when he asked you something, lips sealed tightly shut.

A few seconds of silence passed. You could practically envision his blank face in your head despite not facing him.

'' Did you not hear me? ''

You jumped at the sound of the chair scraping when he got up abruptly, and your blood ran cold the louder the steps got. He stopped right behind you, standing so close that you could hear him breathe, the shakiness of his breaths telling you he was seething with anger.

Closing your eyes shut, you hoped by some miracle that he would leave you alone like a normal boyfriend would. But you knew - he wasn't a normal boyfriend, not at all.

'' Y/n, I'm gonna give you a few seconds, '' he lowly warned.

What were you thinking? This was insane. You hadn't thought it through at all, it was supposed to be a small payback for Bang Chan ignoring you and being cold to you many times during the week.

You should've known, nothing's ever small with him.

In the blink of an eye, you felt pain shoot through you. Feeling confused, you opened your eyes and blinked, hazily taking in the situation. Time was up.

You were pinned against the wall. He had slammed you against it and was pressing his forearm against your throat, already making you gasp for air so easily.

His jaw clenched as he spat out his next words. '' It will take a lot more than an apology to please me now. ''

Lee Know

Cool - two can play that game, you'd see who would last the longest. Big chance it was him who would win, he'd always win, either by scaring you into submission or just due to his pure pettiness and competitiveness.

And naturally, if he didn't win he'd sulk and punish you of course. That was his right.

The first time you pushed him away when he tried initiating skinship, which he often did, he just raised his eyebrow and scoffed at you. When you did it again, he started getting angry and realized something was up.

The third was his final straw. He tried pulling you close to him when you were going to sleep as he liked cuddling before sleeping. You pushed him away, rolling your eyes and sighing loudly.

'' Stop it. I don't want to, '' you mumbled, already feeling sleepy.

He sneered. '' When have I ever cared what you wanted? ''

You couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, dry of humor. At least he was self-aware. But that added more fuel to the fire, he felt mocked; hating being laughed at.

'' So what did I do this time to piss you off, princess? ''

'' Everything. I want to break up. ''

'' Not gonna happen. ''

'' Then I will ignore you until it happens, '' you shot back and rolled onto your side, away from him.

'' Fine, I love games. But...we both know I always win. ''

A chill ran down your spine as you saw flashbacks of all the other times he had been petty, back then, he was a lot less lenient than now. Anything used to set him off. You looked at the server while he was ordering? No food for the rest of the day. You said anything negative about him to your family? No phone for a month. You didn't look happy when he came home? Fine, he'd leave you in the basement then so you wouldn't have to greet him.

'' Don't we, babe? ''

All at once, the feelings from back then came rushing at you, making you almost regret having started this thing in the first place. Your chest heaved as you drew in a shaky breath.

There was no use fighting him. '' Yes, babe. '' you meekly said, closing your eyes just as a tear fell down.

Changbin

Surprisingly, he'd be kind of chill with it. He was understanding since he'd had many days when he didn't want to talk to people and he knew that he had done that to you many times.

However, if it went on longer than he thought necessary, he would grow irritated and show this to make you stop your behavior.

You had quite suddenly gotten depressed and didn't feel like talking to anyone. You barely had the energy to get out of bed in the morning so whenever your boyfriend talked to you, you never felt anything, so you said nothing.

This weird dynamic between the two of you went on for around two weeks until he was fed up. You just sat there staring with a blank look on your face at the wall or the garden, without saying a word. It hurt him to see you like this, you had turned into a corpse.

First, you would just shrug whenever he asked something or hum when he pointed things out. Then you stopped responding entirely like you weren't even acknowledging his presence.

'' Y/n. ''

His voice came through to you this time. Usually, it sounded so far away, almost as if he shouted to you from the end of a tunnel. He felt hopeful when he saw that you reacted to his voice, your head turned a bit toward his direction.

'' I think you need to see someone. You're not getting better. ''

You couldn't find the right words, mind racing with every possible thing you could say - so you said nothing. Your lips were pressed together stubbornly.

Changbin buried his head into his hands and leaned against the table. A sudden loud bang when he rammed his fist into the table in frustration made you jump.

'' I've had enough, '' he growled, '' We're going. Now. ''

You didn't have time to process what he said before you felt your arm sting in pain as he grabbed it harshly, his nails digging into the skin. He dragged you all the way to the car and slammed it shut, hurrying to the driver's seat so he could lock the car.

Well inside, he sighed in relief when he pressed the lock button, but his eyes drifted to you and for some reason, he missed when you fought back. Missed when you'd insult him and scream and try to run away. Anything was better than this, vegetable of a person.

Hyunjin

He would stare at you in disbelief and then repeat himself. Once things clicked and he realized you were doing it on purpose, he had to bite back the harsh words that he wanted to hurl at you.

It wasn't that big of a deal if you were bratty and pulled something like that in private, but in front of other people?

His cheeks heat up in embarrassment, giving them a slight red tint. But all he did was let out a small, breathy laugh while he tried his best to gather himself as quickly as possible so his inner turmoil would not be visible on the outside.

Your mutual friends still looked to him for an answer, their eyes searching his worriedly. With a sigh he quickly slipped on a fake smile, it was almost second nature to him by now. How he hated them all, he had only gotten close to them so he could get you.

'' She's just...going through something right now. ''

That seemed to make them even more worried. Your closest friend who had never really liked him as she suspected he had ulterior motives, furrowed her brows.

Hyunjin swallowed thickly and hastily added, '' It's nothing too serious, she has just fought with her sister and family a lot lately. ''

It was the best lie he could come up with on the spot. He relaxed visibly, his tense shoulders sinking down when they started accepting what he had just told them.

However, he could still feel that eerie feeling of being watched. Your friend didn't believe him, of course she didn't, she never did. He had to go after you and fix this to get her off his back.

'' I should go check on her. ''

The other murmured in agreement and barely noted when he slipped away after you. He swore under his breath and tried his best not to run.

What the fuck did you do? Couldn't you just ever behave?

Han

He would feel extremely stressed by you becoming completely unresponsive to him. This wasn't normal at all and it was driving him insane.

Why wouldn't you talk to him and tell him what was wrong so he could do anything in his power to fix it? Did you enjoy torturing him like this?

He hated when things changed so much that he always ensured you two were on good terms. Whenever you were mad at him, you'd fought, or you were crying after a punishment, he would have trouble calming himself down.

Maybe a part of that was because he didn't like how it made him feel deep down. Your cries of pain, your pleas for him to stop, your tears - what it did to him.

His breathing would become more hitched, almost bordering on a panic attack. What he needed most in those moments was reassurance that you still loved him, that you didn't hate him, and that you weren't going to leave him or that you thought he was a bad person.

'' Y/n? '' he started quite calmly, which surprised him and you.

You looked away but were startled by him sneaking up to your side after you had walked away and slipped out of his hand. The cinema where you were was packed, so it would've been easy to disappear like a ghost in the wind if you had been with anyone else. Of course with him though, he noticed immediately.

His eyes widened and he stared after you, your slightest actions caused a surge of panic coursing through him.

'' Where are you going? '' his voice sounded steady, hiding his desperation.

There was a slight edge to it, though, that made you second-guess your rebelliousness. You had asked if you could go out with your friend for an evening, and he had like always, said no. Feeling fed up with his overly clingy, anxious, and possessive personality, you felt like putting your foot down, and this was the only way you could think of.

But he didn't react the way you had predicted he would. In the only area of the cinema where fewer people were now, he leaned in, his breath tickling your neck.

'' I've given you too many chances, haven't I? '' he whispered.

You flinched. There was something different about his tone. He was enjoying it.

Felix

He would be a little bit oblivious to the whole thing. Sometimes he'd say stuff and not expect you to answer, because he was used to your mood changing from time to time.

So, he'd almost go a full 24 hours without noticing something was wrong. When he did, his eyes widened and he felt very guilty.

You had just come home from taking a walk in the evening. Like most days Felix and you sat down to watch a movie or a series.

He picked up the remote and started flipping through Netflix's home page. Being used to you choosing since you had very strong opinions about movies and tv-series, he waited patiently for you to butt in. He had almost scrolled through the entirety of his saved list when he glanced over at you. You looked bored. He could tell that you had no intention of taking the remote from him, and that’s when it clicked in his head.

Realisation spread across his face and a look of horror came upon it. “ Oh my god I’m so sorry, y/n “

“ How could I not have noticed- “ he seemed to get lost in his head as he said to himself, “ how long did I not notice for? “ 

You hadn't planned to keep it going for very long, you just wanted him to become a bit more self-aware and know of your needs and moods.

With a deep sigh, you finally spoke for the first time in hours. '' It took you a long time. ''

You felt irritated but it was also easy to tell that he genuinely felt bad, so maybe he'd make it up to you and change his behavior afterward. He sighed too and ran his fingers through his hair.

'' Come here, '' he softly said after a few minutes of silence.

It was so low that you almost missed it. As soon as you came close enough, he pulled you into his lap and started gently caressing your face.

'' I'll make it up to you, my love, '' your heart made a leap, '' I promise.''

He pressed his lips against yours and in an instant you forget why you were really mad at him.

Seungmin

His fist slammed down into the table, rattling its contents and making you jump in surprise. With narrowed eyes, he watched you closely as the tension between you increased with every moment.

'' You're not listening to me. Are you ignoring me? '' his voice raised ever so slightly making you look around with fear.

The last thing you wanted was for him to cause a scene in the restaurant.

'' Well, '' he quirked his eyebrow, '' are you? ''

You swallowed thickly. '' Not...not really. I just got lost in my thoughts.''

Seungmin hummed and started drumming his fingers against the table. You watched him anxiously, trying to predict his next move. For a long time, he just sat there, his chair pushed out and a little slumped down.

Then he got up so aggressively that you almost jumped for a second time. He stalked towards you and pulled you up in one swift movement.

'' We're going home. ''

'' But...'' your protests trailed off when he gave you a warning glare.

Reluctantly you let him walk you to his car and then got in willingly. The air on the ride home felt stiff and dry, he didn't talk at all, and if you tried to initiate a conversation or let out as much as a sound, it would make him whip his head around and clench his jaw as he stared you down.

Well home, he didn't even bother to turn off the car or park it. With a simple wave of his hand to the servants he set them off to work and dragged you inside.

When you realized where he was leading you, you stopped and went rigid, refusing to move. That familiar red door was staring back at you, and the more you looked, the more it looked like it was eerily bleeding.

It was his favorite playroom. You remembered his amused voice as he whispered in your ear on the first day you were there, ' soundproof so no one can hear your pretty screams '

'' You don't have a choice. Go, or I'll make you. ''

I.N

He'd react insecurely and possessively as hell. With his mind spinning, he almost lost his vision when he pushed you against the mattress in a chokehold, all he saw was red.

'' Who is he? ''

You could barely think since the air to your brain was rapidly restricting. At first when you tried to answer, it came out in small gasps which made I.N snap out of it and loosen his grip.

'' Speak. ''

'' Who? '' you said, your voice already hoarse. '' What are you talking about? ''

'' The guy that you're fucking! '' he screamed.

You blinked at him in confusion. All you'd done was give him short answers and squirm out of his hands when he'd try to touch you. You hadn't really meant to ignore him, you just wanted to be alone.

A scoff slipped out when you realized that he must've jumped to a conclusion. It was a long stretch but it almost always seemed to be the conclusion he jumped to when he felt threatened.

'' There's no one. I'm just not doing too well. ''

You knew it was pointless, the wild look in his bloodshot eyes already told you that he wasn't hearing anything but his own rage.

His hands moved down your body and he pulled you so close your lips were almost touching. They traveled further and he then yanked your phone out of your back pocket.

You were about to say something to try and calm him down. He interrupted you by the sound of the phone smashing into a million pieces as he threw it full force into the wall beside you.

'' Now we're even. ''

[holylulusworld]

Serve your soldier (2)

Summary: The world order changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of character’s death, mentions of enslavement, implied past dub-con, dystopian world, kind of master/servant relationship, power imbalance possessiveness, jealous Homelander, cockwarming, violence

Kink: Collars

Catch up here: Serve your Soldier

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2024

Grunts, moans, and screams fill your ears. You hide your face in Soldier Boy’s neck, wishing you could just hide from the world.

“Hmm…feels so good being inside your wet little pussy,” he whispers in your ear. “No other hole made me feel like you do. I love fucking you, kitten.”

You wrinkle your nose at his crass words. You’re only a set of holes to him, you knew that already. But knowing hearing the words leaves his lips hit differently.

“I wasn't done talking to you!” Homelander just doesn’t get it. He plops down on the sofa next to your master, dipping his head to shamelessly stare at your stretched-out hole. “She’s got two more holes. Let me show her how a man fucks.”

“My orgy, my rules. If you don’t want to follow the rules, you can fuck off. If not, look for another hole to fill. She’s mine, and mine alone.”

“What if I split your skull?” Soldier Boy snorts at Homelander’s words. “She can find solace in my arms then, and I’ll stretch her holes so good she’ll forget about you.”

You whimper in your master’s neck. His cock twitches inside your cunt, and you fear, he’ll agree to letting Homelander touch you or worse.

“FUCK OFF!” Soldier Boy growls loud enough to make the room fall silent. Everyone stopped moving for a second to stare at their master. “She’s wearing a collar for a reason.”

Homelander scoffs. “That little ugly thing?” He grabs the collar around your neck, making you choke for a moment before he rips it off your neck. The little silver heart flies across the room, and you cry at the loss of it. Your safety, your protection is gone.

“Now she can be used by anyone,” Homelander chuckles darkly. “Let me be the first. Maybe we can share her from now on.” He hungrily stares at you. You’re shaking in fear, desperately clinging to your master.

“Do you honestly believe I’ll share my kitten with you? You’re nothing but walking STDs, you son of a bitch!” Soldier Boy growls at his opponent before he whispers something in your ear. You immediately get off his lap and kneel next to his feet.

Soldier Boy rises from his seat to size Homelander up. He hums and looks the supe up and down. “Ah, let’s start with her mouth then,” the blonde smirks when you shake your head. “A stubborn little bitch you are. Don’t believe you can get mouthy with me.”

“I said, enough!” Soldier Boy rams his fist into Homelander’s chest, sending the supe flying. He ends up breaking through a wall. “Homelander is banned from our herogasm for a lifetime. He broke the rules.

Everyone stares at you kneeling next to your master. They murmur something before going back to their orgy. No one cares about what happened. Neither would they have cared if Homelander hurt or killed you.

“Come, we will leave now. I lost my interest in this show.” Your master holds out his hand, smirking when you try to take it. He grabs you by your waist and throws you over his shoulder, laughing as his eyes land on Homelander lick some woman’s cunt.

Soldier Boy walks out of the room, and toward his penthouse at the Tower. He whistles a tune while you hang over his shoulder, scared and confused about what happened.

No supe ever hurt another supe for a mere human. They fight all the time, not to defend their pets. Cause that’s what humans are to them, nothing else—a toy or a pet to play with until they get bored.

You sniffle silently as he unlocks his home. He steps inside and slams the door shut behind him. “No crying,” he warns when he puts you back on your feet. Soldier Boy inspects your neck. You hiss but try to hide, Homelander bruised your neck. “He hurt you.”

Dropping your gaze, you nod. His fingertips carefully graze the bruises as if he wanted to memorize them. “I’m going to kill him if he ever even looks your way.”

“Why?” You meekly ask.

He huffs. “Because I say so, and he touched you. No one touches you.” Soldier Boy dips his head to press kisses to the bruises. “You’re mine, and I protect what’s mine. I’ll get you a new collar. Maybe one in your favorite color.”

“I don’t have a favorite color,” you murmur. All your life you got trained to serve the supes. Finding out which color you like was forbidden, just like everything else.

“Well, maybe we should find out which color you like then,” he whispers against your skin. “I’ll take you out for lunch, and we can look for a new collar.”

“What? I—” Speechless, you look at Soldier Boy. He must be joking, because you’re not allowed to leave the tower. It would be best if you stayed at his place like a good pet.

“New rules,” he cups your face, smirking. “I’ll show everyone my pretty kitten.” Soldier Boy presses a soft kiss to your lips. “Now, let’s wash that bastard off your body, and later, I’ll make you forget he tried to touch you…”

Tags in reblog.

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

VIII. whatever keeps you around.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string

“…You won’t like it.”

It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."

Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."

"What? What else can I do?"

"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"

Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."

"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."

When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.

It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"

"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."

"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."

"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."

"I don't get it."

"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"

Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"

"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"

Your stomach drops, "He saw me."

"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."

You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.

You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."

"And put yourself in danger? No."

"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."

"This isn't the only way."

"It's the best way."

"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"

"So what, you just want to do nothing?"

Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."

You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."

Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.

The you in this vision has no weapon.

"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.

You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."

"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."

"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.

Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"

His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"

Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.

It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"

You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.

You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.

You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.

After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.

And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.

It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.

You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.

After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"

"To disappear."

You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"

"I've considered it from all angles-"

"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"

"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."

"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"

"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."

"You're shitting me."

After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."

Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.

You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."

"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."

You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."

"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."

"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"

"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."

"The detective?"

"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."

Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."

"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."

"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"

"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"

"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."

"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."

"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."

"What part of disappear do you not understand?"

"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."

Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"

It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.

"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"

Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."

"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."

"Really?"

"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."

He says nothing.

Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.

Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.

You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.

Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.

Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"

"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.

"Are you always this... chaotic?"

Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."

You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."

Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."

You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"

"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."

"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"

"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."

You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"

"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."

"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"

Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."

"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"

"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."

How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.

Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.

Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."

You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."

Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.

For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.

He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.

The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.

"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."

"Don't leave me hanging."

"We could go public."

"What?"

"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."

For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"

Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."

"Did you just... proposition me?"

"I made a proposal."

"You're asking me to date you."

"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."

"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."

"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.

You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."

Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."

You suppose you deserve that dig.

Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.

You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.

You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.

You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.

Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."

He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.

After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.

It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.

Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.

You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.

"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."

"Oh. You didn't need to do that."

"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.

Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.

"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"

"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."

You wince, "Sorry."

"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.

"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.

"Yes, I'm well aware."

You glance up at him, "You saw?"

"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."

You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."

"Yes."

"If you were there, why-"

"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.

You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.

"I've done alright, haven't I?"

"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."

You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"

You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"

"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."

"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."

Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."

"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.

In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"

"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."

Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."

So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.

The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"

"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."

"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"

"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."

You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.

But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?

You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.

The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.

"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"

You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."

The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.

Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.

You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.

Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."

"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"

James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."

Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"

"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."

Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.

Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."

You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."

"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"

"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"

"That's correct."

"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."

"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."

"And that cause is...?"

Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."

This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."

"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.

"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."

"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."

"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."

Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."

"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."

"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."

James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."

James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."

"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."

"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."

James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."

You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."

The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."

Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"

"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."

"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."

"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.

By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.

You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?

"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"

Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.

"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."

He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.

And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.

"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."

Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."

"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"

"We're going to get the sedative."

"You're going as Bruce?"

"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."

You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."

"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."

"You will stick out like a sore thumb."

"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"

You're aware of what he's really asking.

You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."

a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible

[bluerthanvelvet444]

.・˚*✧.𝙻𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

(Jimmy Darling x fem!reader)

tags: enemies to lovers plot, smut!

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, brief mentions of death, slamming against the wall (?), fingering, oral (m!receaving).

summary: Two freaks who despise each other end up...well...finding out that the other wasn't so bad.

character count: 12k.

this was a request by @brightanshiny!<3

full fic under the cut ↓

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You walked steadily, the only sound you could perceive was the grass being crushed by your low heel pumps. The birds’ faint chirp rang in your ears, accompanied by your anxious breathing. You were walking in the dark both because your sunnies made everything cloudy and because you had no idea where your destination was.

“Where you goin’, beautiful?” was what all drivers asked while slowing their cars as they saw an objectively young woman alone in the middle of a desert land. They also all drove off after hearing your response. Why would such an adorable creature be led in a freakshow?

If only they knew. You kept wandering around, your hands clutching tightly to the handle of your bag, and your heart clinging onto the hope. And then, you felt like your prayers had been listened to once a car stopped and actually offered you a ride. You had nothing to lose, especially because they said they were going to the freakshow too. You hopped in the backseat of their car, adjusting your glasses in the awkward silence.

“So uhm…what brings you to the freakshow?” You cleared your throat after asking.

The couple chuckled and turned to you. Only then you realized that the woman had three breasts, and the man had, well…one heck of a bicep. A toothy smile made its way on your face, you had already made some friends.

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Time passed while your eyes scanned the view from the window, and before you knew it, you had arrived. You were greeted by a giant entrance shaped as a wicked…devil? Whatever that thing was, it made you shiver. You wished good luck to the couple as they walked towards Elsa’s tent, you decided to prepare yourself before ‘auditioning’. You settled your bag onto the grass, and began searching for your cards, when suddenly a misshapen geek ran towards you with…a little flower?

“Flower!” She babbled with a crooked grin.

You, who had fallen onto the ground after that thing scared the hell out of you, quickly got up taking a few steps back.

“Pepper, c’mere.” A young man walked towards who you assumed was pepper.

He had brown locks falling onto his face, deep brown eyes gazing at you and your figure, and a boyish smile plastered on his face. He was wearing a simple white tank, and as your gaze traveled down, you noticed that his hands were…deformed.

“Excuse her, she’s just got a lil’ excited. S’not everyday a beautiful lady like ya comes around.” He winked.

“Oh…that’s okay. Thank you for the flower.” You smiled at Pepper, who got all giddy as you took her flower.

“A ride on the carousel’s one nickel, doll. Want me to show ya the way?” He kept checking you out.

“Oh uh…I’m not here for that.” You chuckled apologetically.

“Oh. Looking for another typa ride?” He flexed his arms and hands.

“What? N-no.” You felt the heat rising to your cheeks.

“I’m here to…join.” You added, almost bashfully.

“Join what? The carnival?” He raised an eyebrow as he peeked at your bag.

You nodded, which earned a scoff from him.

“Ya know ya actually have to be a freak to join? Or ya got a surprise under yer dress?” He chuckled.

“Uh no…I am a freak too, though.” You slid your sunglasses over your head, revealing your heterochromia. One of your eyes was light, the other was dark. His eyes widened a little at the sight, then he burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” You frowned, a wave of insecurity washing over you.

“Ya think yer a freak jus’ because ya got different colored eyes? That’s an insult to us, real freaks.” He spat.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.” You narrowed your eyes as your annoyance grew.

“I don’t think ya got the right to call yerself a freak. Look at me, look at my hands, I could never be considered normal with these. But you? Ya could be a heck of a model. Yer quirk doesn’t make ya disgusting to look at. So you better leave, little girl, before you actually see what the real freaks are like.” He replied bitterly.

Suddenly you were a kid again, all the other normal children playing around you while you were sitting in the corner of the class eating your jam sandwich.

“My mom said she came from the devil’s womb…” Little Kimberly whispered.

“Really? My dad says she’s a witch…” Young Sebastian muttered.

And now, this lobster boy came up to you to tell you that you didn’t suffer enough to consider yourself an actual freak? How rude.

“You don’t know a single thing about me, I’ve been an outcast my whole life, I know for sure what I can call myself and I know even better that I belong here. I thought I wouldn’t get judged if I was among people like me. But apparently, I was wrong.” You raised your voice.

“You’ll never be like us. And what can ya even do? Sing? Dance?” He chuckled, smirking.

“I read tarots.” You crossed your arms.

“Oh well, good luck with that. Elsa doesn’t believe in that crap.” He spoke harshly before walking away.

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You ended up joining the circus. Something that you said brought up memories in Elsa's mind, convincing her. You even had your own little stand where sometimes people would stop by. Some were suspicious, some were faithful. In the end, they all left your stand with a new set of hopes. The other freaks weren’t so bad, in fact, they welcomed you with open arms. Ethel, the bearded woman, was one of your favorites. She was always sweet with you, and you felt so…safe with her. You couldn’t quite understand how such a wonderful woman gave birth to such a rude creature. Jimmy, her son, was in fact her complete opposite. Always making fun of your profession, with that stupid grin that he loved to flash, especially to the ladies. This is why at her funeral you were sobbing your eyes out. She was like a mother to you, the accepting one that you never had. And if her weird death managed to hit you that badly, it was even worse for Jimmy. He was really close to his mother, so her death completely destroyed him, making him a drunk mess and an even more annoying bastard.

After the burial, you walked to your stand, organizing it for the next day. You were putting the cards away, when suddenly a voice behind you made you jump.

“Ya got a minute?” Jimmy spoke with a broken voice, leaning against the entrance.

He was soaking wet, so you assumed he stayed next to his mother’s grave in the rain. You had to admit, the sight made your heart ache. He looked so heartbroken, a miserable expression on his face, his deep brown eyes dull, visibly lost.

“O-of course…What do you need?” You frowned as he sat down in front of you, dismissing your help with a wave of his claws. He sniffled, pointing to your cards.

“Do these actually work?” He looked up at you, brows creased.

“Uh…I mean…technically it’s all based on universe belief-” You were interrupted by him.

“Do these fucking work?” He repeated, his voice rough and angry, although you could see a hint of desperation in his eyes. You didn’t know how to answer his question, so you simply nodded, hoping that was what he wanted to hear. You sat down and shuffled the cards.

“Pull three cards.” You spread the cards over the table.

He pulled three, then turned them to face the surface.

DEATH, THE DEVIL, JUDGEMENT.

His gaze hardened and he quickly stood up.

“Are ya messing with me?!” He slammed his claws on the table, some cards falling down.

“What? No! Why would I?” You raised your voice in defense.

“Yer doing this on purpose!” He growled, then turned around and punched the tent out of anger. He buried his face in his hands, and to your surprise, he started crying. You immediately hurried to him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing your thumb in soothing circles.

“I-I swear…it’s all casual…I didn’t mean to-” You spoke, almost ashamed, before being cut off. He grabbed your shoulders, lifting you up and slamming your body against the tend. He held you up like that, his face a few inches away from yours, you could actually feel his breath on his face. He smelled like alcohol.

“Casual, huh? I come up to ya out of pure desperation, hoping that those little fairytales you tell to yer customers will at least distract me, to let there be light…and what do ya fucking show me? Death, judgement and the fucking devil?” He spoke cruelly, his grip on your shoulders tightening.

“Y-you’re drunk, Jimmy…please…” You breathed out, scared of what his next possible move could be.

“Yer so fucking annoying!” He grunted to your face, his gaze severe as it traveled down to your lips, where a sudden change of expression crept on his face. He took a deep breath.

“but so damn addicting...” He muttered under his breath, hurriedly smashing his lips against yours. His kiss was harsh, crude, driven by a primal instinct. You were confused, yes, and you were pretty sure he wasn’t completely lucid. Yet, you leaned into the kiss, your lips moving in sync against his. He hummed as he felt you reciprocate, and roughly grabbed the back of your thighs, pulling them up and sliding between them, so that your legs were wrapped around his torso, and his hips were pressing against yours. You yelped at the sudden change of position, your arms reaching to drape around his neck. Now that you were securely clinging onto him, he grabbed your waist, his face nuzzling in the crook of your neck.

“Fucking angel…whatcha do to me…” He mumbled while sliding his lips on your neck, making you shiver. He started kissing and sucking your skin until he left a red mark. You tried to bite back a groan.

“Lemme hear ya…” He sunk his teeth onto the skin of your neck, being careful not to draw blood. That caused an almost instant moan from you and you felt him smile while he trailed kisses down your chest, against the fabric of your dress. He groaned in frustration as the thin fabric represented a barrier between you two that he had to get rid of as soon as possible. He reached to the zipper on your back, brutally pulling it down along with your dress. His eyes traveled on your almost naked figure, causing a subtle blush on your cheeks. He buried his face between your breasts, one of his big hands unclasping your bra and groping your tits. His mouth worked wonders on your nipples, and pretty much all of the skin around. You couldn’t help but groan, especially when his claws made their way on your heat, sliding your panties aside. His fused fingers brushed a few times against your clit before immediately dipping in your slick entrance.

“Ohh…! f-fuck Jimmy…” You moaned, your hands reaching to grip his curls. He grinned and pumped his fingers steadily, increasing progressively the pace. Your moans kept growing louder and louder, as you felt that knot in your tummy tighten.

“Jus’ like that, doll…takin’ it so well…” He murmured in your ears, occasionally biting your earlobe. You felt your back slide against the tent wall, in sync with the rhythm of his fingers.

“S-shit…I’m gonna- ah!- cum…” You whined.

“Let go…let go f’me, sunshine…” He groaned, his tongue sliding down to tease your collarbone. With a few more pumps, you reached the edge, coming on his fingers. Your moans were so loud you were sure that everyone outside heard you.

“There ya go, doll…so good…” He smirked, letting you catch your breath. He looked at his fingers, wet with your release. He brought them to his mouth, sucking your cum off of them. The sight drove you crazy, so in return, you sank to your knees, your hands urgently working on the buttons of his pants. He let out a small gasp of surprise.

“Uh…whatcha doin’, angel?” He breathed out, almost shyly, as you pulled his pants along with his boxers down.

“Returning the favor..” You batted your lashes at him, innocently and naughtily at the same time.

“O-oh…alright…I’m not used to uh…usually girls are all over my fingers, they don’t really pay attention to my-” He cut himself off with a moan, caused by your lips suddenly wrapping around his tip. You were surprised by his size, he was average in length, although he was…girthy. You started sucking gently, slowly and teasingly.

“Ah…like that…” He groaned and tried to fight the urge of grabbing your head and fucking your face. You smiled as you tasted his pre-cum, finally deciding to take more of him in your mouth. Once you adjusted to his bigness, you started bobbing your head up and down.

“Oh! f-fuck…so fucking good…like that…atta girl…” His eyes shut down in pleasure, his mouth opening in an “o” form. He couldn’t resist anymore, he grasped the back of your head and started fucking your face at a faster pace. The impact was harsh, and it caused you to gag a little, your eyes watering.

“Sorry doll…ya jus’...feel so fucking good…” He moaned, bobbing your head up and down even faster, catching his orgasm. He groaned, releasing hot strings of cum in your mouth. He quickly pulled out, helping you up on your feet and watching you swallow with a proud grin. He helped you put on your clothes again, and picked you up like a princess, as if you weighed nothing. He pressed some kisses to the side of your face.

“Yer my light, dollface.” He smiled, all mushy.

“Let’s go get some rest in my caravan…I’ll get ya ice cream later, yea?” He chuckled.

You had never seen him happier.

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a/n: hiiii!!! ughhhh this took sooo long, I'm so full of exams!!! BTW, I tried to write a more interesting plot, bcs I know that Jimmy is very underrated and not many people read fics of him!! poor little lobster boy. Anyways, hope you like it!!❤️❤️

taglist: @cxndiedvi0lets @marchsfreakshow @fear-is-truth @doll3tt33 @angeldollw @newwavesylviaplath @evpeters87 @dont-look-behind @brightanshiny

all rights reserved!!

[steveseddie]

From Hell to His Arms

steddie | rating: t | wc: 2,7k | cw: minor character death | tags: pre-relationship, worried steve, eddie lives, but his mother is dead, soft boys

for @steddie-spooktober day twelve, prompt “graveyard”

read on ao3 here

Eddie is missing. 

Not missing missing. It hasn’t even been twelve hours since Steve last talked to him so he probably shouldn’t be making that kind of statement. Hopper wouldn’t even let him file a missing person report if he tried. But that doesn’t change the fact that Eddie is nowhere to be found. 

“He’s gotta be somewhere,” Robin tells Steve on the phone after he calls her on the off chance that she knows where Eddie is. She doesn’t. 

“He’s not,” Steve says, head thumping back against the wall. “I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Did you check the trailer?”

Steve fights the urge to roll his eyes. Did he check where Eddie lives? Well, duh. “Yeah, he wasn’t there. Wayne said he was already gone when he came home from work.”

“Huh,” Robin says, probably thinking the same thing Steve did— that it’s weird for Eddie to be out of bed, let alone out of the trailer, so early in the morning. “Did you check with the kids?”

“Yeah, I called them, no one has seen him.”

“Maybe he had band practice?” Robin suggests next. 

Steve shakes his head even if she can’t see him. “Nope, I called Jeff. No practice today.” He also called Dougie and drove by Gareth’s house, hoping to see Eddie’s van parked outside or to hear their music coming from the garage, but nothing. 

On the phone, Robin makes a hmph noise.

“He could be, you know—” she lowers her voice so her parents don’t hear her, “—making a drug deal.” 

Steve purses his lips. “He wouldn’t go alone, Rob, not after last time.”

‘Last time’ was two weeks ago when an asshole from school used buying as an excuse to get Eddie alone so he could beat him up. Apparently, he and Jason Carver had been friends. Eddie managed to get away with only a split lip by hitting the guy in the face with his lunchbox after he threw the first punch and getting the fuck out of there while the guy recovered. He showed up at Steve’s house, angry and scared, and Steve made him promise that if he was going to keep dealing, he better bring him along, just in case, and so far, Eddie has kept his word. 

“Well,” Robin says, her voice snapping Steve from his thoughts. “Unless Eddie has any secret friends we don’t know about, I don’t know who he could be with.”

“I told you he was missing,” Steve says, scowling at the wall, pretending it’s Robin. If he can hear the way she rolls her eyes at him, maybe she’ll know he’s glaring.

“He could be hanging out by himself, dingus, maybe at Lover’s Lake or the quarry or—”

Feeling his cheeks flush in embarrassment, Steve admits, “I already checked there.”

“Where?” 

“Everywhere. I drove to Lover’s Lake, Skull Rock, and the quarry. I even drove to the school, but there’s no sign of him,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. He can hear the worry in his voice, and if he hears it, so does Robin. 

“I’m sure he’s fine, Steve,” she reassures him. He appreciates how she doesn’t tease him for driving around town looking for Eddie like a crazy person. “If something was wrong, he would’ve called or radioed you.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Steve says, sliding down the wall. “And I know I’m probably being clingy and obsessive and dramatic but—”

“You worry about him and that’s not a bad thing,” she cuts in. “But I’m sure you don’t have to! He’ll show up eventually with a very silly, very Eddie reason for why he went missing—”

Steve jerks up with a gasp. “So you agree he’s missing!”

Robin groans. “Shut up, dingus. I’m trying to tell you your boyfriend is fine.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve says, biting on his lip. Yet, the hopeful part of his brain supplies. 

“Yet,” Robin’s voice echoes. 

It’s all still very new— this thing between Steve and Eddie. They’ve only been on a few dates, they’ve held hands and shared one single, yet quite memorable, kiss. They still haven’t put a name to it, even if Steve was ready to start calling Eddie his boyfriend before date number one. He kept that to himself. He knows how he gets— he falls hard and fast, and he tends to say and do too much too soon. The last thing he wants to do is to scare Eddie off. 

Maybe you did, the mean part of his brain says, maybe Eddie got tired of you already and he’s hiding from you.

Steve shakes his head, trying to shut up that voice. He can feel a headache starting and he pinches the bridge of his nose with a tiny grunt. 

“Hey,” Robin says after a short silence. Steve almost forgot he was on the phone with her. “Why don’t I come over? I’ll keep you company until Eddie shows up.”

Steve’s lips twitch. He appreciates Robin’s offer, but he knows he won’t be good company until he hears from Eddie. “No, Robs, it’s fine,” he says, playing with the phone cord, twirling it around his finger. “I might drive around for a bit, see if I can find him.”

Robin sighs, but she doesn’t try to talk him out of it. She probably knows it’s useless. “Okay, fine. Let me know when you do, okay? And flick his forehead for me, for making my best friend worry.”

Steve can’t help but laugh when he pictures the cute little scrunch Eddie would undoubtedly make if he did that. “I will,” he says. Then, “Got any other ideas of where he could be?”

Robin hums, thinking. “The arcade? The music shop?” She suggests and Steve makes a mental list of those places. “The library? Wait, no, he’s banned from the library. Hm, maybe you should check the back of Hopper’s cop car.”

Steve snorts but doesn’t rule it out. “It’s worth a shot,” he says, pushing himself to his feet. “Okay, I’m going, I’ll talk to you later.” 

“Okay, bye, dingus. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Steve says, hanging the phone on the receiver. 

He knows Robin is probably right about Eddie being okay but there’s a part of him— the part that still wakes up crying from nightmares about losing Eddie— that won’t stop tormenting Steve until he sees Eddie and makes sure he’s alright. 

And if he has to drive aimlessly around town for hours to do that, then so be it. 

And if Eddie asks, he’ll just say he felt like going for a ride. 

Or you can tell him the truth, he’ll understand, he thinks, optimistically. Before his own brain replies with— or he’ll think you’re insane and run for the hills.

Steve huffs out a burst of air. 

He picks up his car keys and zipping up his jacket, he walks to his car.

First, he goes to the arcade and then the music shop but there’s no sign of Eddie at either place. He drives around town, hoping to see the van parked somewhere, and peeks into a few other stores, looking for a familiar curly mane. But neither is nowhere to be seen. 

The library is next, even if Eddie is banned from it. Then Steve considers stopping by the police station, either to check if Hopper brought Eddie in or to try to convince him to let him file a missing person report. 

He doesn’t. He’s not that crazy.

Instead, Steve decides to go back to the trailer, hoping that Eddie has made his way back there from wherever he was by now.

He’s not paying a lot of attention as he takes the—by now familiar— route to Forrest Hills and he almost misses Eddie’s van, parked at the foot of the hill leading up to the graveyard. He does a double take, but there’s no way to mistake the old vehicle, not with the ’Corroded Coffin’ graffitied on its side. 

Wondering what Eddie could possibly be doing at the graveyard, Steve parks the Beemer right behind the van and walks up to it. Eddie isn’t in the driver’s seat and the passenger’s seat is just as empty, and when he peeks through the window, he can’t see anyone in the back either. 

He considers waiting for him by the van but that lasts for about five minutes. He starts getting antsy again when thoughts of angry jocks jumping Eddie or monsters lurking, waiting to attack him, pop into his mind. 

So he treks up the hill, squinting his eyes to see if he can spot Eddie somewhere in the distance but after three concussions, his eyesight isn’t the best so with a sigh, he starts making his way through the tombstones, searching for Eddie. 

He walks aimlessly between headstones, reading the names and dates on them and thinking about how only a few months ago he and his friends almost ended up needing one of those, the closest being Eddie. 

The thought makes Steve want to throw up. He could’ve easily ended up here for a different reason— to visit Eddie’s grave instead of looking for him. And God, losing Eddie then would’ve been bad, but losing him now? Steve doesn’t think he could survive it. 

“You haven’t lost him,” Steve mutters, talking himself down from the fear rising in his throat. “He’s fine. He’s probably just— getting high on Jason Carver’s grave or something.”

Still, he sighs in relief when he finally spots him, sitting on the grass in front of a small tombstone on the far side of the graveyard, an acoustic guitar on the ground next to him, and a flower bouquet by his feet. 

Steve walks up to him and Eddie, who seems deep in thought, doesn’t notice him until he speaks up. “There you are.”

Eddie jumps, shoulders tensing as his eyes snap up to him, wide and alert, before he recognizes Steve and relaxes. “Jesus, Stevie,” Eddie says, blowing out air. “Are ya trying to give me a heart attack?”

“Are you ?” Steve asks, hands on his hips. “’Cause I’ve been running around town all day looking for you. You just—” He gestures wildly, hands slicing through the air, “—disappeared. The kids didn’t know where you were, and neither did Wayne or Robin. I radioed you and you didn’t answer.”

Eddie’s nose wrinkles. “I left the walkie in the van.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve huffs, “I thought you were in a ditch somewhere or like, mad at me.” 

“I’m neither of those things, Stevie,” Eddie says with a tiny shake of his head. 

“Then what are you—” Steve cuts himself off when his eyes zero in on the name written on the tombstone. Elizabeth Munson. Oh. “ Oh .” And of course, Steve knows Eddie’s mom is dead. He just didn’t know she was buried here or that Eddie ever visited her grave. “That’s your mom’s grave.”

“Yup,” Eddie says, the corner of his mouth ticking up in amusement. At least he’s not mad, despite Steve being an idiot. 

“God, Eddie, I’m sorry,” he says, hanging a hand from his neck. “Should I go? I should go, leave you to it—”

“Hey, no,” Eddie protests, tugging on Steve’s pant leg. “Come here.”

He pats the grass next to him, looking up at Steve with those big doe eyes he could never say no to. 

So Steve flops down next to him, wrapping his arms around his knees, making himself small, feeling like he’s intruding. 

Eddie scoots closer with a little smile. “Hey, sweetheart.” 

“Hi,” Steve responds with a soft smile of his own. He glances around, and seeing no one, he dares to lean in and press a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. His blush matches the pink flowers on his mother’s grave. “Did you bring those?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “They were her favorites. I bring her some every time I visit.”

“Do you visit her often?” 

Eddie leans back on his palms, tilting his head to the side. “Sometimes. Wayne comes with me on her birthday and I’ll come on my own if I have stuff to tell her, or a new song to show her.”

Steve’s eyes dart to the guitar and he notices a notebook lying next to it. 

“I know it’s silly,” Eddie goes on, “but she’s always the first to hear them. She’ll let me know if they’re any good or if they’re shit. Literally. Once I played her a song, and as soon as I was done, a bird crapped on me!” A chuckle tumbles from Eddie’s lips. “So I ripped the song to shreds and never played it again.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Steve says with an amused snort. He points at the guitar and the notebook. “What did she have to say about this one?”

“I haven’t shown it to her yet, I was catching her up first,” he pauses, giving him a shy smile, “telling her about you.”

“Oh, and what did you say?”

Eddie jumps to a crouch, startling Steve and getting all up in his space as he talks. Steve can’t help but laugh at the silly outburst. “Told her I met the most gorgeous boy,” he says with a playful but genuine smile. “Charming, funny, a little bitchy but with a heart of gold. Oh, and hot as all hell.”

Steve ducks his head. “Eds—”

“And how for some reason, this boy likes me. Me .” He says, placing his hands on his chest and falling back on his ass, his expression turning shy and serious. “And that I’m scared shitless to ruin everything because I like him so much.”

Steve reaches over the space between them, grabbing Eddie’s hands, and playing with his ring-clad fingers. “He likes you just as much,” he says, squeezing his hand. “And he’s scared too, that you’ll think he’s crazy or for driving around Hawkins all day looking for you.”

On the contrary, Eddie seems delighted. He grins widely. “No fucking way, sweetheart.” 

And God, Steve wants to kiss him but he can’t. Not like he wants to. Not here.

So he reaches over with his free hand and flicks him on the forehead instead.

Eddie’s eyes widen in shocked indignation and then his nose scrunches up exactly like Steve pictured it. “Hey! What was that for?”

“Robin asked me to do it,” Steve shrugs, “for making me worry.”

Eddie’s lips purse. “I guess I deserve it. Sorry about that.”

Steve waves off the apology. “So, your mom. Did she say anything to you? About me?” He wrinkles his nose. “Did she make a bird crap on you?”

Eddie throws his head back with a laugh. “Nope, that’s when you found me actually, which might be her way of telling me to stop hiding from you and hiding how I feel.”

“She’s a wise woman, your mother,” Steve says. 

Eddie nods, squeezing Steve’s hand. “She would’ve liked you, you know?”

Smiling, Steve says, “I’m sure I would’ve liked her too.” He jerks his chin towards the guitar. “I’ll give you two some time, so you can show her the song.”

“Actually,” Eddie starts, grabbing Steve’s wrist when he tries to get up. “It’s time I listen to Mom and stop hiding how I feel. Stay and listen to it."

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting for you in the car.”

“Please, I’m sure. This song is for you anyway,” he admits, “you should hear it.”

“Okay,” Steve says quietly, sitting back down. Eddie lets go of his hand so he can reach for his notebook, flipping through the pages until he finds the one he’s looking for and sets it down in front of him. The lyrics are written down in Eddie’s chicken scratch handwriting and some of them are crossed out so Steve can’t make out most of the words, except for the song title written in big bold letters.

From Hell to His Arms. 

Eddie’s song to him. 

Steve’s heart flutters wildly in his chest.

With one last shy smile, Eddie starts to play a soft melody, his voice joining in to sing about monsters, a heart rescued from darkness, and falling in love with a hero, a fallen king. 

Steve loves it. Of course he does.

And as the clouds above them part and sunshine bathes Eddie in the most beautiful light, Steve thinks— Eddie’s mom must have liked it too.

[roanofarcc]

SEVEN MINUTES

pairing: sasappis x ghost!reader

summary: while sam and jay are away on a weekend vacation, trevor decides to teach the ghosts party games he played in high school, which leads to you and sass being forced to spend seven minutes in heaven

warnings: slight feelings of unrequited love, crushes, first kisses, and nervous Sass. gen!reader.

word count. 1.2k | masterlist

Gathered around in a circle, the ghosts of Woodstone watched with various levels of intrigue and concern as Trevor explained the concept of a game he used to play back in high school while at parties. 

“Normally, we’d sneak alcohol from my buddy’s Frankie’s parents but we, unfortunately, can’t get drunk because death is a never-ending nightmare,” Trevor said, clapping his hands together. “So, everyone get the rules?” 

Hetty scoffed. “This is what you called entertainment, engaging in salacious acts for seven minutes?” 

Trevor grinned. “Exactly! Seven minutes trapped in a closet with, if you were lucky, the hottest girl in the grade. If you were lucky, you’d get a kiss and maybe some over-the-clothes action. If you weren’t so lucky, like my buddy Frankie, you’d realize how long seven minutes in the dark really is and then your friends laugh at you.” 

You felt a little giddy, reliving a high school experience that sounded way cooler than yours. With Sam and Jay gone for the weekend, you and the ghosts were free to act like a group of children left without supervision. 

“Oh! We played something similar in the cult. But when it was over, someone was married!” Flower said. Her attention wandered onto something outside of the circle, leaving no room for the questions everyone had but wouldn’t ask because Flower wasn’t one to give a straight answer, ever. 

“Isn’t this going to be weird?” Sasappis asked. “If two people go in there and kiss each other?” 

You wore a teasing grin on your lips, peering at him from across the circle. “What? Are you scared, Sass?” 

He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “What? No! I was just…asking. We do all have to live here for the rest of eternity together.” 

“A kiss is nothing. We can call things weird when the clothes come off, okay?” Trevor said. 

You tilted your head to the side. “You’re already halfway to weird, Trev.” 

He shrugged before sitting down in the circle with the rest of them. “Ready?” The ghosts all nodded and Trevor concentrated all of his energy into spinning the bottle on the ground. It circled around, its neck pointing to everyone until it started to slow, then stop. The neck pointed to you and the bottom directed across the circle, right in line with Sass. 

The ghosts all ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’ as you stood to your feet, ignoring the odd feeling in your stomach. Sass looked like a deer in headlights, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. He looked on the verge of mortified, which did not bode well for your waning confidence. You didn’t think spending seven minutes alone with you was the worst, but by the look Sass was giving you, you began to rethink that. 

You attempted to fake confidence, extending a hand out to him to help him up. 

“All right you two. Everything’s game once you get into the closet. You’ve got seven minutes; we’ll let you know when your time’s up,” Trevor instructed. 

Sass hesitated but accepted your hand, letting you pull him to his feet. Wordlessly, you two walked into the coat closet, standing in the darkened room face to face. 

The silence was heavy, weird, weighing down on your chest as you waited to see if he’d break it. 

“So…” he finally said, trailing off with a breathy, slightly uncomfortable laugh. You smiled, but it was probably lost in the darkness. 

Instead, you cleared your throat and toyed with your hands for something to distract you. “So…” you repeated back. “Still scared?” 

That time, his laugh was a little less uncomfortable, easing just slightly as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. “Honestly? Maybe a little.” 

“You didn’t have games like this back in your day?” 

He scoffed, playfully. “No, we had better things to do than stand around in dark closets.” 

“I’m guessing you had better places to kiss too then, huh?” 

Sass was quiet for a moment. You watched as his head tipped downwards, his chin nearly touching his chest. For a moment, you wondered why that was his reaction. The other men in the house had no problem boasting about their first kisses or any action they had while alive, except Sasappis. You had always thought it was because he was more private about that kind of stuff, but you began to doubt that thought in that moment.

You gently reached out, placing a finger under his chin and lifting his head upwards. “Sass?” you whispered. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?” 

He squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassment rolling off of him in tangible waves. But you didn’t find it embarrassing; you found it rather sweet, actually. 

A small smile graced your face as you ran your thumb across his cheek before cupping his jaw. “Hey,” you said, nearly nose to nose with them. “Come on, Sass. That’s not a bad thing.” 

“It is,” he groaned, reopening his eyes to find you even closer, but he didn’t pull away. “Don’t tell anyone, please?” 

“You know,” you said, lowly. “There’s a pretty easy way to get around ever telling them you’ve never had your first kiss.” 

His brows furrowed, hands down straight at his sides. “How?” You cocked your head to the side, eyes flickering between his eyes and his lips. It took a minute, but he seemed to catch on. Blinking, he whispered, “Oh.” 

“We don’t have to-” 

“N-No!” he rushed out, cringing as his voice came out loudly. Sass cleared his throat, nervously licking his lips. “I mean, that’s the point of the game, right?” 

You brought up your other hand, holding his face and admiring him for a moment. You’d thought about kissing Sass before, not necessarily in a dark closet during some game Trevor convinced everyone to play, but you thought about it nonetheless. Every time he laughed so hard he doubled over or when he excitedly explained something with his hands and a twinkle in his eyes. Every time he shot you a smile from across the room when he caught you looking at him or when he’d accidentally brush up against your shoulder when gathered in a group. 

But Sass was tricky to read and you never knew how to make a move or to make it known that you’d be okay with him making one. Finally, you found it, and you really didn’t want to ruin your chance. 

“Are you sure?” you checked, whispering centimeters from his lips. 

He answered by tilting his head and leaning in. You pulled him the rest of the way, crashing your lips together. The kiss was needy but not rushed. Sass’s hands rested on your hips, and you pressed your chest against his, having longed to be that close to him since you had laid eyes on him. 

It wasn’t until you two ran out of breath that you pulled back, wide smiles a little love drunk. Heat flushed your face, all hidden in the dark. He didn’t let go of you, holding you close like if he let go, you’d disappear. 

“Wow,” he muttered. 

You laughed, resting your arms around his shoulders. “That wasn’t so scary, now. Was it?” 

He shook his head, leaning in for another kiss, that time a little more sure of himself, still with a couple minutes left inside heaven to spare. 

[yanderes-galore]

Romantic Light Yagami with prompts E-3 and M-1 from A-Z Yandere prompts list

Sure! Here's Light attempting to "help" you through an abusive partner... Then there's him. He's such a disgusting man in this, ugh....

Prompts Here

Yandere! Light Yagami E-3 + M-1

“I removed the problem. You should be thanking me.”

“I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me?”

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Abusive relationship (You're in one before Light... Then there's Light), Stalking, Murder, Implied physical violence (Your past partner, not Light), Swearing, Forced relationship.

Light knew about your partner.

Hell, out of anyone, he probably knows about them the most. After all, you're two close friends. Since middle school you've come to him to vent or hang out.

Naturally... Light is used to comforting you.

He never liked your partner. Even less when he began to notice you hiding bruises from him. Light never liked to show his distaste... always opting to quietly listen as you sit beside him.

Deep down he's pissed, brown eyes darkening each time you brought up your partner.

Light has always been there for you. He holds you when you need him, he lets you cry into his shoulder... He distracts you from your problems. You'd think he was just being a good best friend...

In reality he's infatuated even if you don't know it... The fact you're taken already gets on his nerves...

Even more so when the person who has you is hurting you.

There's only so much Light can take when he watches you. A bruise here, a cut there... It's infuriating. Each time he sees something new... He tenses.

Light wishes you'd just let him take care of things. While you're unaware, he keeps an eye on that partner of yours along with yourself. He glares when he sees your arguments...

He hates when someone hurts you.

Naturally, if you can't leave him alone, Light vowed to help in whatever way he can. You interpret this as comfort, as helping you get through it. You thought he'd just support you as you try to smooth things over.

What a naive thought, he almost wanted to laugh.

No, your partner deserves worse than that.

It was so easy to track them down. He remembered their face... He researched their name.... Honestly, he swore he heard Ryuk laughing as he came up with a grotesque scenario in his mind. Was it wrong to write your partner's name in the Death Note...?

No, not in the slightest, not to Light.

Light had expected you to be upset. Despite that, he hated that you still mourned for them. Even now he still can't have you....

Months pass and Light has done nothing but stay by your side. He comforts you, holds you close, and pretends to care about your partner's death. Despite it all... He's happy to see you smile... to know that bastard is gone...

Then you find someone else.

Light feels his eye twitch when you tell him the news. Months out of a horrible relationship, and you rebound for someone else? Someone not him?

"They've been a good friend of mine... I felt I should give them a chance... But I just don't know...."

Light just about lost it when you said those words. He felt himself gripping the desk in his room as he looked at you sitting on his bed. Ryuk ends up teasing him and his 'love trouble'... but Light snaps when he sees the blush on your cheeks.

“I’ve done everything for you and this is how you repay me?” Light snaps, making you jump. "I care about you, pour my heart out to you, and you look for someone else?"

You're immediately intimidated by the glare Light gives you. He stands up and you feel your heart sink. This feels so familiar...

It scares you.

“I removed the problem. You should be thanking me!” Light scoffs, standing in front of you and kneeling to look in your eyes.

"Light...? What do you mean removed the problem...?" You hesitantly asked, only for Light to laugh.

A chill runs down your spine.

"Oh, baby, you know what I mean..." Light coos, leaning closer. "It was so damn easy, too. That partner of yours didn't know what was coming...."

Another laugh occurs as Light cages you in, barely concealing the fact he's seething.

"I could do the same to that friend of yours..." Light whispers, eyes dark as he stares you down like a man starved. "That's all they are... a friend... I'm meant to be your boyfriend, baby...."

"Light, no, stop, I'm sorry—!" You plead, Light clicking his tongue.

"You're sorry?" Light muses. "You're sorry after playing with my feelings, after leading me on?"

You nod aggressively, even if what he said wasn't true. Light sighs deeply, pulling you closer. You go stiff...

You thought he was helping you...

Turns out he's just as bad as your old partner, he wanted something in return for helping you...

You're terrified.

"Fine, baby... I'll forgive you." Light sighs, burying his face into your neck. "Just prove to me you mean it..."

Light holds your chin, pulling back to look at you properly.

"Prove to me you mean it by being mine..."

You should've known Light wanted something... Wanted you...

You just doubt anyone's saving you this time.

[phonebeenmimiced]

Nightmare

(As the title states, he has a nightmare I had based on a dream where it will get its own post. Also some foreshadowing✨️)

Peeps: @myluckymoon @star-seeking-stray @aredeemantagonist @tilskkarishma @yumereblogs

February 18, 2025.

No. Not this again.

A 32 year old man has been reported for cause of death 53 government agents, at the port on a Tuesday afternoon, 1:30pm. Reporters say the suspect was wearing a dark cloak and a hood during the time of the incident. While his face remains unknown, the damage he caused isn't. It's reported that the suspect used explosives during the incident, costing at least 15 thousand in property damage. Some people say that this was a active terrorist attack. Detectives are still on the case and hunt about this man.

It wasn't meant to turn out this way. I wanted to be left alone, but they were after me. I was protecting myself! I'm already dead to them, there's no need to hunt me down! I didn't do anything this time, I swear!

Updated report states that the Armed Detective Agency is taking on the case-

DAMN IT! This is bad, real bad. 53 armed ordinary soldiers I can solo in a fight with ease. The Armed Detective Agency on the other hand, oh I'm so fucken screwed. I have to flee. I don't think I can stand a chance to win against them. I have to flee-

The suspect has been caught on February 22, at 10pm. Attempting to flee from Japan via boat. The suspect was former soldier and terrorist, André Gide. We have report that he will not be given a fair trial due to his record and will be contained in a underground facility.

I can't move. My eyes snapped open, my breathing been hitched, breathing heavily and rapidly as my heart rate skyrockets. I can barley see a thing, everything feels like a blur. Like a drug. All I can hear is the rapid beating of the heart monitor. The sound of doctors shuffling around and murmuring, but I can't see any of them. I can't move.

Even if I tried, this invisible force is holding me down. My arms feel weak, my legs are numb, I can't escape this one. Not even my own ability can save me. The inevitable is arriving.

For once fear sweeps back into my life, shaking my body and overloading my brain with questions and thoughts. I'm scared and I can't do anything about it. I want this all to stop. I want it to stop. I can't handle this.

Cold, scared, hopeless, that's all I can feel right now. They took my clothes, my identity, my reputation, my pride. All of it ripped away and burned. Unrepairable to ever build again.

Just let me die. They could have killed me, all I wanted was death, but they gave me something worse than death. Something much more cruel.

It like a scene from a sci fi movie. The sound of the shuffling got quicker and more chaotic. Wires were being wrapped around my arms and torso. Some sort of plastic pipe being shoved down my throat, along with a oxygen mask strapped to my face.

One moment I'm laying on some operating table, the next moment I'm stuck in some tube, water or some sort of liquid slowly rising from my feet. It slowly got higher, reaching my ankles to my waist, then to neck point before I'm fully submerged in the cold liquid. At first all I could feel was panic. I can't tell if this is truly death or not. I felt lost and confused.

Until a beam of drowsiness hits me. My body going limped and my eyes becoming heavy. Starting to float in the tube while slumber takes me captive.

This is the end for me. Or so my nightmare would say as I snap awake in my own bed. At first I uses to be very scared of this dream. Waking up and breathing heavily. It scared me before, but with how frequent it's becoming, I can't help but feel a little numb to it.

Was this really a nightmare or a prophecy yet to happen?

[shapard]

Feather of Fate🕊️

Lucifer x seraphim!fem!reader

Soulmate arc

I wrote this late at night so not proof read yet.

It's going down~

little Angst, Violence, major death

True Story

Chapter 9 > Chapter 10 < Epilogue

Shock and being scared was an understatement of feelings that Lucifer, Charlie and the others are facing right now. The others follow Lucifer like a lost puppy, as they walked through the halls of the horror Playhouse. 

Lucifer remembered every angle of this place. This is where he began creating things for heaven and then for Lilith. 

Or rather it was. 

His eyes were set on the horrible victims of Michael. The Mangled Angels that looked like the worst demon. 

Worser than any of the demon he saw in hell. Probably even worser than Rue.

At some point they were standing in front of an empty cell that was stained with golden blood and your aura.

Beside the cell there was none other than Leonardo looking right at the group. 

He was already expecting them.

“Long time no see, Lucifer.”

….

You walked with your bare foot on the golden floor, beside you stood Michael, Azrael, and Gabriel. 

They were guarding you up the stairs. Watching you like hawks do with their prey with those glowing dangerous eyes.

You’re going to meet him, the famous God almost everyone is worshipping.

The one you served such a long time.

The one who let you down so easily. 

The God that you were sure despites you with his very being.

Maybe it was wrong to think that way. But you couldn't shake off the feeling that something will happen.

Your hands were still chained up, but your feet were walking almost on Autopilot.

You wanted to stay in that cell and rot in there in peace, rather than facing someone who let you down easily. 

“Y/n?” Your eyes widen at that voice, a warm feeling spread around your chest, and you felt like you wanted to cry. Nothing is more calming than a mother’s voice to its child.

And yet you didn’t look up nor give her nay response that you’ve heard her. After all you didn’t forgive her how she just let you fall and that it was her idea in the first place. 

Michael told you everything.

Even though he can’t be trusted you couldn’t help but believe him. The bittersweet taste that allures you into his darkness was tempting.

You were tempted to fall into his madness. But the memories you and Lucifer shared were the only thing that destroyed you and kept you sane.

Gabriel glared at Sera, “why is she here? She isn’t supposed to be here.” He ushered towards Azrael who just shrugged him off. 

Your hand clenched hard. You don’t want to see her. Not when she looks at you with these pitiful eyes, even though it is her fault all alone. 

“What have you done to my daughter?” Sera looked in horror at the bruises on your wrist and body. The bruises around your wrist were almost deep purple, black almost.

The guilt in Sera was indescribable. It was eating her alive in these last few Months.

It was all her fault; it was a simple punishment that ended in torture. 

“Not much.” Michael answered giving Sera a white rose. “Father wants to see you too.”

You wanted to disappear. The heavy load on your shoulder was too much to handle. 

The hurt of the betrayal from Lucifer was too recent to forget and that your mother showed up is your worst luck.

The pain in your chest spread when you looked finally at you Mother. Feathers all scattered, it seemed she haven’t preened them in a while. 

You miss your wings. 

The walk ended in a huge sky land and pastel clouds were surrounding the area, the light was all centered in one direction where you could see a silhouette. 

A soft tune played. A tune Lucifer used to hum to you when you dozed off on his lap. 

The ghost feelings of his clawed fingers massaging your scalp, not hurting you in the process.

Unwilling tears fell from your eye socket. As much as you wanted to hide your weakened state, you couldn't.

After all that has happened you miss him. 

You missed the Hotel, you missed hell. You missed the time with your friends Husk and Angel.

The soft tune that hummed in the area comforted you in a weird way and a soft way.

A voice called you into the light. 

Don’t go into the light. 

Your mind was screaming at you to run. 

Danger. 

Michael gestures for you to step forward. You wanted to move, but your feet don’t move. The anxiety was filling your lungs making it even harder to breath and stopped every body movement. 

You forced your feet with all your strength just to stand in the light that was a few meters away from you.

“My, My. After all those months and years, I finally can speak to you in person.” You’ve never heard his voice before, but you just know its his. 

His Voice echoed through the wind and in your body through Skull and bones.

The sound of Gods heels meeting the quartz ground was in an even rhythm. As the steps grew closer and closer you found yourself in a panic like state.

What will he do with you? Is he going to kill you or make you his puppet?

A warm but somehow cold finger pushed your chin up and you saw a tall figure with four eyes surrounding its silhouette. 

He has almost the same hat as Lucifer and the same shit eating grin. 

“Poor Child.”

Your eyes twitched; you don’t need any pity from anyone. Not from Leonardo. Not even from God himself.

“I don’t need any of your sympathy.” He only chuckled at your comeback, It interested him indeed.

Even after such a heartbreak you still fought back. “I was almost worried that my son may corrupted you. Michael is a lot to deal with, I must admit.” God lets go of your chin and you almost fell on your knees. 

The sudden weakness surprised you. God snapped with his fingers and the chains broken loose. 

“But I don’t appreciate this type of violence towards my daughter in law. Lucifer wouldn’t be happy to see you in this state darling. So, let’s get you patched up, hm?” This is off. 

Why is he so nice? 

Doesn’t he hate Lucifer? 

Doesn’t he hate you?

God laughed at your cute little misunderstanding. “Oh, my dear I hate nobody. Not even towards Lucifer. I’m just disappointed that this all came so far. You got treated the wrong way because of my recklessly. That’s not how I planned you two to meet.” He sighs, “So answer me one question.” He turned towards you and lifted you up.

The bruises on your body slowly disappeared into your skin. And the pain faded with it.

“What do you desire?”

…

“How do you know we were coming Leonardo?” Lucifer looked with his scarlet eyes into Leonardo’s golden ones. 

“Who wouldn’t save their soulmate. I would, even if it means that I’ll get cast away from heaven. I knew you’d come” Leonardo took few steps forward, but Lucifer stayed on his grounds.

“Tell me Lucifer, what would you do for her?” Lucifer growled. 

He’d do anything for you. 

He wants your back; he needs your back. 

Leonardo lunged at Lucifer with his spear landing a cut above his eyebrow. 

“Fuck.” Lucifer cursed as he tried to find a place for the others to hide. 

There's no escape. 

“Charlie! Find Y/n while I fight him off!”

…

You wanted so much and as soon as these words left none other than God, you found yourself empty headed. “What I desire?” God hummed and looked down at his cane. “Is it money? Or is it something that hides deep inside you dear. I’ll give it to you but choose wise.” Well, that isn’t helping.  

God laughed at your thoughts, sometimes you forget that he could read your thoughts easily. “Let me help you dear.” God stepped forward and folded his hands on your eyes. 

A low glow made you almost slum into a deep sleep. 

But before you could fall into this feeling a loud crash followed and God sighed in frustration. Having children is a bliss but also a stick in the ass. 

Lucifer and Leonardo fought in the air and crashed together in front of Michael who seemed to be amused by the fight. 

“Y/n!” Charlie shouted your name and you turned towards her. “Charlie?!” A happy smile spread on your lips. A little shine of hope burst your heart. “Charlie!”

You ran towards her and threw your arms around her, and Charlie happily hugged you back. “I’m so glad you’re okay!” She said as she squeezed you tightly. “We all were so worried about you!” Angel hugged you from behind, “yeah, the short king almost lost his mind!” you giggled at Angels nickname for Lucifer. 

You were so drowned in your own misery that you’ve forgotten how much you love the others. You always were head stuck on Lucifer that you forgot your drink buddies. 

You break the hug and swipe the tears that escaped your attempt to hid them. 

You watched as Lucifer fought his three brothers. Azrael swung his scythe around his waist to get a better hit on him. The gold blood splattered on the quartz floor, and you hissed at the injured Lucifer who had a huge gash on his chest. 

“I wish I had daughters than sons…” God sighed as he looked at the mess they caused. Gods smile never left his face though.

Leonardo kicked Azrael away with the end of his spear making him land with full force on the quartz floor, ouch. Azrael laid unmoving there and groaned at the back pain. “I’m out.” He said before collapsing on the floor. 

“Why did Leonardo defend dad?” Charlie asked pointing towards Leonardo who stood before Lucifer. “He was always on his side. He just wanted to check if he’s willing to die for Y/n.” God answered and held Azrael under his arm. 

“Now let me take care of this mess.” God let Azrael go and he fell on his stomach. “Really?!” Azrael huffed in anger. 

God levitates down to his sons and they immediate stopped. “As much as I like the reunion, you’re destroying the peace me and Lucifers mate had.” This hurt Michael deep. No not again.

“Really father? You’re defending Lucifer and his soulmate?” Michael gritted his teeth as anger build up in him. After all he has done for his father Lucifer always gets preferred. 

But not with him. 

Michael took the opportunity and flew towards you. You stepped in front of your friends protectively, no one will hurt them. 

Just by your dead body. 

His sword went smoothly through your ribcage right between your heart. Charlie screamed and shouted your name as the sword was in her view. 

The sword went right through you. 

Quite a disturbing beautiful sight. A fallen Seraphim protecting sinners as she gets killed by an Arch Angel.

Lucifer looked in horror and his heart felt like tearing apart. 

He wanted to hold you close but his wings felt like bricks on his back. Every time he tried to fly up to you, he fell lower and lower. And when Michael’s laugh hollowed in Lucifers ears he started to feel immense Anger and rage. 

More than he did last time he fought Michael. 

A monstress growl escaped his sharpened teeth as the fire between his horns grew bigger and more violent. Lucifer felt no empathy as he smashed Michael’s skull to pieces. 

It was the least he could do for you. You were hurt, in despair and he couldn’t help you through it. 

And now Michael took again what was most precious to him. 

You. 

You slumped on to the ground as Michael hold on you stopped and Husk was quick to hold you in his arms.

“Don’t die on me kiddo.” Husk voice broke, the sadness couldn’t hide the truth. 

You’ll die. And nothing can change it. 

Husk pressed plunged the sword out of your chest and replaced it with his hands. 

His power as an overlord was gone, but Lucifer could heal the damage, right? 

The hard breathing broke his heart as he watches you taking his hands softly. “Husky. Promise me-“ you coughed, and blood splattered onto his fur, but Husk didn’t cared. 

“Stop talking, you’ll only use your left power.” Husk pressed deeper onto the wound, but the blood still gushed out at the tiniest hole. You shook your head softly, you’ll die. 

This is your dead end. 

A tear escaped with a few whines, “Promise me to take care of them. Please husk.” Tears met your forehead as you said those words to him. 

Husk cries. 

He actually cries. 

“Don’t say that. You’ll live!” You squeezed his hand as he screamed, one last time and muttered a soft I love you to them all besides Lucifer. 

He wasn’t here with you as your life slowly crept away from your body. 

The dull vessel of your soul just dropped into Husks arms and Husk hugged you close. 

Charlie was a mess. Her crying filled the battlefield and Angel dust was having a complete meltdown. 

Lucifer stopped his Tantrum as he heard Charlies desperate and hurt cries. His body reacted on its own fast and flew towards her and you. 

He fell couple times but tried neither less to get to you two.

Lucifer landed painful on the harsh surface, but he didn’t care. 

He crawled up to your corpse and took it away from Husk as Lucifer hugged you close to him. 

Your usually warm body was now cold, and those live filled eyes were dull and soulless like the void that crept back to him. Before his mind could even collect words, he apologized to you in a mantra. 

He was sorry. 

He wasn’t there when Michael did that to you and Lucifer wasn’t there when you shifted to the dead.

Forgive him.

“Forgive me Apple Pie.”

…

The soft tune played into your mind, painting a picture in it. Flashbacks of your life appeared till you stand in that familiar space with the table and mist. Across the table sat Lucifer but in a light blue and golden appearance.

“Lucifer?” You asked out, your hand twitched. You wanted to feel the golden hair one last time. 

But he was with Lilith, not with you. The bitter truth you avoided, and it hurts you much deeper every time you remembered it. 

Please stop. 

”Y/n?” The way he called out your name and the soften voice that allures you back into the warmth. 

Hot tears burned their way down to the cold stone table. 

What is he doing here? You’re dead right? 

Yes, you miss him very dearly but the betrayal was to recent to just forget it. 

“Just wait for me.” 

You looked at Lucifer, cold. A sting on Lucifers heart but it wasn’t really him. It’s an Image from you and God. And your desire to see him again. 

To hear him at least out, maybe it was a misunderstanding. Maybe Azrael showed you just mere lies. 

“Even though I am not the Lucifer you desire,” he took your hand softly into his pearly white one, “I can tell that your Lucifer loves you dearly and wouldn’t do that to you.” He smiled up to you and stroked the hot tears from your face. 

“But I am dead Luci, and you- He wasn’t even there with me.” And the fake Lucifer gave your hand a quick squeeze. 

“I’m sure he wanted to. Still a fucking idiot but he was fighting Michael off of you, right? That’s a start.” He chuckled and you huffed. 

The doubts and insecurities were another trap you chose to fall in. Maybe he wanted you dead so he can have Lilith.

“But Lilith is-“ He interrupted you with a soft squeeze on your hand and cheek, “Don’t continue that. Yes, he loved Lilith. But he loves you more. Even though I am just a copy of Lucifer from yours and Gods memories. I love you more than anything. Listen to him not to his bitter twin. Hear it from him and if you’re correct you can be mad all you want.” He let you go and gave you a last smile. 

What does he mean? 

You’re dead, no refund. 

Gone.

“Our time Is up. Choose wise apple pie.” The world around you fade away, “What is your true desire?” you stretched your hands out for Lucifer.

you want to go back to him.

“I want to go back to him. Please.”

The soft tune hummed in your head as light surrounded you. As the light slowly creeped away you felt tears on your neck. 

Your eyes flutter open, and you saw Lucifer face buried into your neck. He hugged you tightly, the thought of dying again because of Lucifer hard grip wasn’t one you were burning for. 

“Lucifer?” You called out his name and he quickly retreated from his favorite place, and he watched perplexed at you. 

“Y/n?” He called out, “Is that really you?” He sounds so broken. You nodded and answered with a short yes. Lucifer held your hand in his left hand and pressed you onto his lips so soft and hard. 

His lips danced around your as sparks flew across your body making you feel butterflies all over your stomach. He kissed like it was his last meal. After seconds of intimate making out, he broke the kiss. 

“Don’t leave me again.”

A/n: Feather of Fate is now Over! (There is an epilogue coming!") Hope you enjoyed the short story.

There will be more! But first I want to concentrate on Scenarios and One Shot, till I feel ready to post another story with our Short King. ❤️

Love y'all Pookies❤️

Special Thank you to @ayanazoldyck, @marydragneell and @avadakadabra93 ❤️

💫

Sadly couldn't Tag you.

And of course thank you all Pookies❤️❤️❤️✨

@ayanazoldyck @marydragneell @lunaryasha @cherry-cola-100 @lxkeee @latersgaters-steven @fandom-crashlanding @cupidsgift @steadyconnoisseurnacho @crimsonflameproxy @stormz369 @wooleypeaches @fukingsad @starlitvenus @avadakadabra93 @itzabbeym @asmodeussimpnumber1 @sirenetheblogger @k1y0yo @i-have-no-life-charlie @angelicwillows @0puddleofgender0 @fallenh34art @v3r41ynn @froggybich @pank0w @roboticsuccubus83 @littlebear423 @anonymously-ominous @concentratedconcrete

And thank you to my silent readers

Why do I write like this my last day here💀✋🏽

[libby-for-life]

Part 4 of Alone in Eden. Make sure to read 1, 2, and 3 before reading this. Guitarhero!

Adam was still in shock when Michael took him into his arms. He felt safe there and comfortable. Half his face hurt from where Lilith grabbed him and Michael had looked over him worriedly, tracing parts of his face.

Lilith and Lucifer were bound in chains before the Angelic choir and the Lord himself. Adam had only seen Him once when he was created. While He had a stern expression, His eyes held a kindness he instinctively knew was genuine despite having never experienced kindness.

"Father, Adam's face is bruised," Michael said angrily as he held a numb Adam. "Lucifer and Lilith have eaten the Fruit of Good and Evil. And they celebrated their rebellion by fornicating under the tree itself. Furthermore, when Adam caught them in the act, they chased him down. If I hadn't come to Adam's aid, who knows what they would have done to him?"

Lucifer and Lilith yelled through their gags, thrashing and glaring at all of them. Adam couldn't bear to look at them so he hid himself away, burying his face into Michael's robe.

For a long time, the Lord looked down at Lilith and Lucifer. His once favorite angel looked scared while Lilith glared defiantly. He nodded, as if coming to a decision.

"How dare you disobey me." It wasn't a question. It was a statement that made Adam shiver. "I give you life. I give you immortality. I give you no fear, death, or pain. And this is how you repay me? You selfish creatures."

The Lord stood before them, everyone could feel his anger and disappointment, and yet he remained calm outwardly. Like the two before him weren't worth losing his temper over.

"It appears I was far too lenient with you, Samael. Or do you still try to use the name you gave yourself to feel more important?" The Lord cocked His head. "It does not matter. I gave you too much freedom and you use it to corrupt my creation. You introduced her to Knowledge she wasn't ready for. Fools."

Now Lilith was shaking despite her glare. Lucifer looked like he was ready to pass out. "If you would have listened to me, Lilith and Adam would have been given that Knowledge when I deemed them ready. When they were done developing. Instead, you gave her something she wasn't ready for and it has already corrupted her."

Lilith spat out the gag, ready to yell most likely, and yet the Lord simply waved His hand. Suddenly, any sound she tried to produce didn't come out. Her eyes grew wide and terrified. To have such a vital part taken away on a whim...Adam bit his lip as Micheal gently stroked his back and neck.

"You talk far too much when you should be listening." The Lord said. He seemed to grow. "I know what you planned to do with Adam if Michael hadn't gotten to him in time." This time, Lilith looked like she was ready to pass out from fear. "You're lucky my son did come or your punishment would have been tenfold."

The Lord looked furious and yet He still didn't yell. Adam supposed He didn't need to. "Now, for the consequences. Samael, or should I say Lucifer, for disobeying Me, for corrupting The First Woman, and for standing by and letting Lilith hurt Adam, you will be banished from Heaven and Eden. You will no longer be allowed to step into its golden gates nor gaze upon what used to be home. You will forever wander the Earth for eternity with no contact with any other angel for they will attack you on sight." Lucifer glared up at his Father but didn't say anything.

"Lilith. For eating the fruit, for disobeying Me, for trying to hurt Adam, and what you've thought of doing to any of the children you bared with Adam, you will also be banished from Eden. You will forever wander the Earth but it won't be for eternity. Instead of being immortal like you were given, I strip that away. You will grow old. You will become weak over the years and eventually, you will die." Suddenly, Lilith shook as a large hand went to her stomach. "You will also never be able to have children. I will not let you try to bash any child's head in, even if that child is a bastard."

Lilith would have done what to their children?! Adam knew she didn't like the idea of having a child with him but to...to...Adam couldn't even finish the thought. He didn't realize he was crying.

The Lord turned from them to Michael. "Send them off." And He was gone like He was never there.

Adam felt himself grow sleepy as if he were—he didn't even finish that thought as he was put to sleep in Michael's arms. The Archangel handed Adam to Gabriel where he whisked him to the safety of Eden. Michael drew his sword with a glare and walked forward to the rebels.

Lucifer looked at Michael and spat out his gag. "Michael, please—" The Archangel slapped him in the face. "How dare you beg for mercy when Adam did as well and you refused? You're a coward, Lucifer. Our Father was right. We were all too lenient with you and your rebellious ways. I even started calling you Lucifer instead of your given name, Samael. I made every excuse in the book for you. But no longer." He raised his sword and opened a portal to a barren land.

"I hope whatever you have with the whore here was worth it, Lucifer. Enjoy her while you still have her." Lilith must have been given her voice back because they both screamed obscenities as they were shoved out. Michael sighed as the portal closed and he sheathed his sword.

XxX

Adam woke up to something warm and comfortable surrounding him. He looked up and saw Michael looking down at him with a small but genuine smile that made the First Man's stomach fill with butterflies.

The only thing he could say was, "You came for me." Because Michael had promised he would come and he did.

"Of course I did, Adam. I will always come for you."

(For anyone wanting confirmation, yes, Lilith planned on murdering any child she gave birth to that belonged to Adam and she had planned on killing Adam ro keep her secret with Lucifer.)

[katyawriteswhump]

I hear your voice (and it carries me)

for @steddieangstyaugust day 17 prompt: 'Keep breathing, please."

Rating: M WC: 1700 CW Drug-use Tags: Established steddie, alternate canon season 4 (with details fudged and twisted for my own plotty purposes.)

What if Vecna came for Steve first, not Chrissy? (No actual death, I promise, just guilty-pleasure pop and major angst…)

...

Eddie climbed through the window that Dustin had left open and into Steve’s hospital room. His boots smacked too loud on the floor, and his every muscle tightened.

Steve was wired up to a series of bleeping machines. Plaster casts smothered three of his limbs. His neck was in a brace, and his face was half-lost beneath an oxygen mask.

Eddie knew, of course. Steve had arrived here in a far worse state than this. 

Still one helluva punch in the gut.

He tiptoed to the bed and located Steve’s Walkman, which had been dumped on a trolley. He slipped it back over Steve’s ears, careful not to disturb the mask. Dustin and Robin had played a showstopper in convincing Steve’s mom that Steve would want constant pop. 

Unfortunately, the medical staff kept taking the darn thing off.

Eddie didn’t switch the cassette on right away, however. He anxiously smoothed Steve’s hair.

“God, I’m sorry,” he said brokenly. “I panicked, Stevie. I was too fucking scared. I should’ve broken your fall, and I should never have let you… I… I shouldn’t have…” He pressed his lips to Steve’s cool, clammy brow. A fat tear dripped from his nose. “Keep breathing, Baby. Keep breathing, please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Dustin’s yell blasted through Eddie’s walkie-talkie. Eddie scrambled to turn the volume down.

“Henderson, what the heck?”

“Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds early. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

…

One week earlier

Steve lay flat on his back on Eddie’s bed, shirtless, and with his jeans tangled round his knees. Eddie was sprawled on top of him—a smokin’ hot mess of sweat and hair—and kissing Steve stupid.

Steve should’ve been in a happy place. He was sucking Eddie’s face off, grinding himself up into Eddie, while Eddie pawed hungrily at his ass. Eddie wanted in, and Steve wanted nothing more than for Eddie to bone his brains out.

If only he could shake these stupid jitters.

Christ, the blood pounding in his ears drowned out the mega-loud Aerosmith track on his latest mixtape. He was also dog-tired, and sick of it. The nightmares had ruined his sleep for days.

And they were all total bull.

Yeah, Steve felt guilty about shit. Not only about Barb, though that was a biggie—there was so much he’d screwed up in his life. He sucked. He got it, blah, blah, blah.

No way was he buying into crazy hallucinations where Eddie yelled and hated on him. Let alone ones where Robin transformed into a squelchy tentacle monster. He was going out of his tiny mind. It was the only reasonable explanation, and the only answer right now was…

Eddie broke the kiss. “You okay, Babe? Still got a headache?”

“I’m fine.” Steve dabbed his lips, shivering because Eddie was too far away already. “I’ll be fine. Gimme more of the good stuff, okay?”

Eddie turned down the music. “Seriously? You mainlined poppers earlier—enough to lay low a daddy buffalo. That shit means business.”

“So I do. Stop being a freakin’ pussy.” Steve wedged his hand between Eddie’s thighs and purred. “I can totally handle it, and if I do turn to mush? Means I can take even more of this big boy.”

“I’m not sure, Stevie… Oh shiiiit.” 

Steve mercilessly squeezed Eddie’s dick, batted his lashes. Yeah, he’d beg if he had to. Anything to feel less tense and haunted, to feel he was actually in the room with Eddie. 

He never had to.

Eddie pulled a dopey face, started rummaging through his stuff. Steve dragged his jeans up with fumbling hands. He maxed out the stereo volume—snickering because Eddie was gonna literally piss himself when the track-after-next started—and wandered toward the kitchen to get more beer.

….

Eddie located a shoebox full of snazzy lil’ multicolor poppers and a sachet of Special K. Then his frazzled brain caught up with him.

He’s already had waaay too much. Okay, he’s still revved as fuck, but THAT’S NOT NORMAL.

He ditched the shoebox, grabbed a jar of Acetaminophen. After tipping all but two pills out, he peeled off the label. He’d tell Steve they were hardcore tranqs. Shifty, but… Screw it, he cared about Steve more than he’d ever cared about anyone. Yeah, Steve had bugged him for downers. Eddie should never have caved. He vowed, one way or another, he’d wean his boy off ’em.

He was, admittedly, launching his campaign the coward’s way. Had to start somewhere, right?

“There you go, Honey,” he said, wandering out. “Boneless bliss just moments away.”

Eddie stopped in his tracks. He dropped the jar. Steve stood motionless in the middle of the trailer. His eyes were lidded, twitchy with the occasional flash of white.

“Steve?” Eddie dashed forward, started shaking him. “Talk to me, Steve. Wake up! Can you hear me? I don’t like this, Stevie.”

Shit! He’s ODd already!

Eddie jostled him, pleaded with him. Right till the moment Steve levitated up into the air and smacked into the ceiling.

Eddie staggered back. The Black Sabbath track blasting from the stereo ended. Silence reigned.

One of Steve’s arms twisted the wrong way at the elbow and popped. Eddie screamed, then actually pinched himself, because this had to be a horrible dream, and then…

‘Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth’

Belinda Carlilse. Belinda fucking Carlilse. Yeah, Steve loved to sneak pop-tastic hits onto his mixtapes. Eddie would always crack up, plus he didn’t hate them either.

One of Steve’s legs contorted with a sickening snap.

‘They say in Heaven, love comes first

We'll make Heaven a place on Earth…’

Steve’s eyes flashed from white to brown. He fell, landing with a horribly crunching smack.

In the blur of the next few minutes, Eddie called an ambulance. He leaned close over Steve’s blue-ish lips, sensed the faintest warmth, though didn’t dare touch him. His eyes bled. He looked so… broken. Eddie prayed to some WASP deity he’d never believed in that he was the one having a really bad trip.

He went with Steve in the ambulance and held his limp hand on the ride. They’d already got that mask on his face, the brace around his neck. At the hospital, Eddie watched Steve’s gurney disappear through swinging doors. He collapsed in the waiting room, buried his face in his hands.

Steve’s parents arrived soon after. They joined the doctors in bombarding Eddie with thunderous glares, until the truth finally glimmered.

They believe I did that to him.

Even if… WHEN… Steve wakes up, they’ll say we were both high as fucking kites. They’ll blame the satan-worshipping freakshow.

Convinced the cops were on their way, Eddie fled via a fire escape. While he was holed up at Reefer Ric’s, two teens were murdered. The whole town now believed Eddie was the monster behind those crimes, too.

“Way to go making a play for the FBI’s Most Wanted list,” Dustin said, when he brought Eddie supplies. “If you hadn’t run, those deaths would’ve got you off the hook. Not that you’re exactly innocent. You know your fun-time sweeties repressed Steve’s breathing as badly as the neck injuries? Sent him into that coma?”

“Wow, you’re a real genius! Never dawned on me. Oh, hold on. IT’LL TORTURE ME EVERY GODDAMN MOMENT, OF EVERY FREAKIN’ DAY, FOR THE REST OF MY CURSED LIFE.”

At least the kid had a theory about the attacks, supernatural sorcery shit that blew Eddie’s mind. Also, one of Dustin’s friends, Max, was apparently lined up to be the next victim. For some wild reason, the only thing keeping the killer at bay was endless Kate Bush.

“Eddie,” asked Dustin, while Eddie stared into a box of Cap’n Crunch he’d literally no appetite for. “Is there any music you reckon might help Steve?”

…

‘In this world we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'’

Steve was beyond sick of Belinda.

She ebbed and flowed through his consciousness pretty much constantly. Trouble was, whenever she was randomly gone, as she was now, the swirling red fog around him thickened. He was confused, and yeah, he was frightened. He’d not heard any squelching footsteps or booming synth voices lately, but he sensed that thing was still out there.

He occasionally heard talking. People poked and prodded him, and breathing was sometimes a scary battle. He tried to talk himself once or twice, but he couldn’t even open his eyes. He was lost and sick and hurting and… so lost.

Right until he felt somebody stroking his hair. Then a moist feather-soft brush on his brow. 

Eddie.

He’d recognise Eddie’s kiss anywhere, whether rough or dumbass levels of sweet. Eddie was here. Eddie was with him. Steve strove harder than ever to fight free of the choking fog.

“Keep breathing, Baby.”

Eddie’s voice. Broken and distant, but it was him.

“Keep breathing,” Eddie whispered, “please.”

“CODE RED, I REPEAT THIS IS A CODE RED! EDDIE, DO YOU COPY?” 

Steve’s blood literally jumped. Shit, was that Henderson? “Eddie, the night nurse has started her rounds early. I repeat—she’s started her rounds. You gotta get outta there NOW.”

Too much. Steve’s head was too muddled, he didn’t understand. He finally fluttered his eyes open and latched his blurry focus onto Eddie. Who startled like a coyote bit his butt. Steve would’ve laughed, if he’d gotten the lung power.

“Steve? Steve!”

Eddie seemed spooked. Steve’s heart rate skyrocketed. He was in a hospital bed. He’d got some weird plastic mask thing on his face. When he tried to lift his arm, pain lanced hotly. 

Oh God, oh God!

He fixed on Eddie and felt himself calm a little. “Please,” he murmured, his voice a barely-there rasp. “Don’t go.”

Eddie squeezed Steve’s hand and smiled gently. “Not if I can help it, darlin’.”

Steve faintly registered a door flying wide. A voice cried out, echoed by a wailing alarm. He somehow found the strength to grip Eddie’s fingers, even as Belinda Carlisle launched up in his ears again:

‘Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore…’

Eddie’s hand was torn away from Steve’s loosening grip, and Steve slipped back into the fog.

...

(Steve is okay, Vecna got distracted and El whipped his ass anyway, then Eddie get off, and it all ended happily... promise!) You tube link to 'heaven is a place on earth' for other 80s pop obsessives

Thanks for reading! All my ST fic on AO3