#and his anger comes from a place of fear for your safety

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

“Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

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Masterlist

[elizaleclerc]

austria ୨♡୧

lando norris x reader

summary: journalist!reader and lando get into an argument after the austrian gp

song: novacane by frank ocean

author's note: for the lando girlies who are struggling after the triple header </3 (also im back hiiii long time no see)

word count: 2.3k

As an F1 journalist, your job is not for the faint of heart. You are constantly on edge, especially when it comes to your boyfriend's performance on the track. Today, at the Austrian Grand Prix, he battled fiercely with Max, their cars weaving in and out of each other's paths. You watched with bated breath, your fingernails digging into your palms as you feared the worst - a catastrophic collision that could send either one of them careening into the unforgiving walls. The smell of burnt rubber and gasoline filled your nostrils as you anxiously awaited the outcome of this intense race.

As a professional in the racing world, you were well aware of the scrutiny and attention that came with your job. But nothing could have prepared you for the media frenzy that erupted when news of your romance with the British driver, Lando, became public knowledge. You felt a twinge of fear for the safety of your job, but thankfully no major consequences arose from the slight controversy.

In fact, as fans began to capture sweet moments between you and Lando on their cameras, it seemed that they had come around to accepting and even celebrating your relationship. As you often walked together through the bustling paddock, surrounded by the sights and smells of burning rubber and adrenaline, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support of those around you.

The rumble of engines crescendoed as the final laps of the race drew near. Max and Lando were neck and neck, their cars weaving through tight turns as they fought for first place. The tension was palpable in the air, and the crowd held its breath in anticipation. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed throughout the track - Max and Lando's cars had collided, their tires punctured and dreams of victory shattered.

Max raced into the pits, his heart pounding as his crew frantically worked to repair his car. On the sidelines, Lando's team watched helplessly as he climbed out of his damaged vehicle, frustration etched on his face. The once friendly rivalry between them now burned with disappointment and regret.

As you stood in the garage watching the chaos unfold, memories of shared dinners and late night parties with Max and Lando flooded your mind. But now, all you could feel was an anxious knot in your stomach, knowing that you wouldn't be able to see Lando until after his post-race interviews.

As your boss informed you that you would be the one conducting Lando's post-race interview, your worries swelled to a fever pitch. You anxiously fiddled with your microphone, feeling its weight in your hand as you mentally prepared for the task ahead. As you completed your first couple of interviews with ease, speaking to Charles and Lewis who had their well-rehearsed PR speeches at the ready, you couldn't shake off the nagging feeling that Lando would be a different challenge altogether. You knew his tendency to deviate from the script given by his assistant, opting instead to speak his mind. And today, you knew he would have plenty on his mind - most likely anger.

Over the past couple of weeks, Lando had grown increasingly tense as he climbed higher and higher in the championship standings. He was on track to beat Max, a feat that seemed impossible just a few races ago. The pressure and expectations weighed heavily on him, evident in the way his muscles were constantly tight and his jaw clenched. Even when the two of you were alone, he couldn't seem to fully relax.

As he approached you now, his face was still flushed and glistening with sweat, but there was an undeniable edge to his demeanor. Normally, you would swoon over his post-race glow and heavy breathing as he cooled down, but now it only made you more worried. You couldn't decipher if his ragged breaths were from the intense race or from simmering anger.

As he locked eyes with yours, a warm smile spread across his face. Your heart fluttered in response, but you quickly composed yourself and began asking your prepared questions. Normally, you were the one to come up with these interview inquiries for the post-race interviews, but this time your boss had given you a list of specific ones to ask. You did your best to steady your shaky breathing as you spoke, directing your questions towards Lando and the intense racing between him and Max. You couldn't help but notice the slight furrow of frustration on his brow, likely from being asked the same question multiple times before you got to him. With a professional tone, you probed into whether Lando believed the collision at the end of the race was his own fault or an error on Max's part.

Your hand trembled as you hesitantly raised the microphone to ask the question that had been weighing heavily on your mind. It was a topic rarely broached in these types of interviews, personal and sensitive. But you couldn't let this opportunity slip by without getting the answer straight from the source. Lando's expression grew serious, his voice tinged with frustration as he spoke about the standing between him and Max's friendship. His sweat was beading down his forehead and staining his hair. The intensity of the race still radiated from his every pore.

As he recounted his version of events, memories flooded your mind. Dinners with Max and Lando, their laughter filling the fancy restaurants and drawing curious glances from other patrons. Days spent out on the yacht with them, diving into the cool ocean waters with abandon.

It seemed impossible to imagine that anything could come between their strong bond. But as Lando's voice trailed off with a final statement about the potential permanent damage to their friendship, a sense of sadness washed over you. The reality of their argument sinking in, and the possibility of a rift between two close friends threatening to become a painful reality.

Despite his harsh statement, you maintained a composed demeanor and continued to ask him questions about his race performance. It was your responsibility to gather insights from him so he could identify and address his errors and shortcomings, something that Lando despised doing. He often downplayed his own abilities and would remark that certain mistakes had "ruined" his performance. It pained you to hear him speak negatively about himself, but it frustrated you even more that you were the one tasked with extracting these self-deprecating comments from him.

As the interview went on, your frustration grew hotter in your chest, and Lando's once cold stare now burned with anger directed at you. Did he truly blame you for the uncomfortable questioning? You hoped he knew it wasn't your choice to ask such probing questions.

As the interview ended, you mustered up a small, reassuring smile for him. However, his piercing green eyes held no warmth or affection - only anger. You mentally cursed yourself, knowing he was pissed off at your questions. Hastily, you flashed your friendly grin at the next driver approaching for an interview. Time to move on and leave dealing with Lando for later.

As the clock ticked closer to your official end of day, you couldn't wait to make your way to the McLaren paddock. The crew there had slowly started to embrace you with open arms, once they accepted your relationship with Lando. Now, you were free to come and go as you pleased outside of work hours.

You softly knocked on Lando's driver's room door, anticipation bubbling in your chest. After a few moments, the door swung open, revealing those familiar brown curls and that sun-kissed skin you had grown to love. But this time, Lando's face held no smile and he didn't speak when you walked in.

"Hey Lan," you spoke softly, the tension evident in your voice as you cautiously entered the small room. The air was thick with unease as you walked on eggshells around this version of Lando, deciding to take a seat on his small bed.

“Hi,” he mumbled. As he unzipped his sleek driver's suit and peeled off his fireproof shirt, revealing a chiseled and sweat-glistening torso, you couldn't help but admire his muscular physique. His back muscles rippled as he reached up to the top shelf, revealing the orange McLaren shirt that hugged his body perfectly.

“I’m a- I’m sorry about that interview.” The weight of your apology hung heavy in the air, almost suffocating. You longed to see him smile again, it was one of your favorite sights, but instead, his face was a mask of frustration and anger. Your heart ached at the sight of him so upset.

He scoffed bitterly, "Yeah, sure." He began to peel off the rest of his suit, exchanging it for a pair of sleek black pants. He had more press interviews lined up, but you had made sure to check the time before entering his dressing room. You knew he wasn't in a rush. As he changed, his movements were swift and precise, like a dancer rehearsing their steps. Despite the tension between you, you couldn't help but admire him.

"Come on, Lan, don't be like that," you pleaded, your fingers running nervously through your hair. You wanted him to understand, to let go of his anger and return to his cheerful self.

"It doesn't change the fact that I had to answer those questions," he replied, bitterness creeping into his voice. You couldn't blame him; who would want to be bombarded with inquiries about their friendships and personal flaws right after a grueling race?

The air between you was thick with tension, tinged with the scent of sweat and adrenaline. The sound of heavy breathing and distant cheers filled the silence as you both stood there, trying to bridge the gap between your feelings. But it seemed impossible in that moment, as if a chasm had opened up between you. You sigh, “I know, I’m still sorry.” You looked down at your feet, unsure as to what else you could say. 

You heard his movements come to a halt, and you instinctively lifted your gaze to meet his intense stare. His piercing eyes seemed to be searching your very soul as they roamed over your face and down your body. You felt a familiar heat rising in your cheeks as he took in every inch of you, his expression shifting from serious to playful. A small smile tugged at the corner of those irresistible lips. He ran his fingers through his tousled curls, letting out an audible sigh before settling down beside you. "You wore orange today," he said with a sly smirk, his eyes still fixed on you.

You broke into a smile, “I believe it’s called papaya, actually.”

“For me?” he asked in a slightly shocked tone. As if you’d wear this color for anyone else. 

“Always for you, Lando.” You looked over into his eyes as he placed a hand on the top of your thigh.  

“I'm sorry about earlier, I know that interview wasn't your fault,” he apologized, his eyes gazing deeply into yours. The intensity in his gaze showed that this was more than just a formality; he truly meant every word he spoke. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, remembering the emotional outburst he had during the race.

“I know, and I want you to know that you're so much more than your mistakes today,” you reassured him sincerely. “You're an incredible talent, and it's a shame that it wasn't fully recognized today. It feels like you're not getting the recognition you deserve as someone who is fighting for the championship right now.” Your words spilled out earnestly, unable to hold back your admiration for him any longer. As a reporter and journalist, you were often expected to maintain an unbiased stance towards Lando, especially with the growing romantic relationship between the two of you.

But in this moment, you couldn't help but express how truly talented and deserving he was. Because if there was one thing that was undeniable, it was Lando's sheer brilliance on the track. However, deep down, you knew that sharing your true opinions may result in backlash from those who accused you of being biased. But in this moment, all that mattered was showing Lando how much he meant to you and how highly you regarded his abilities.

So here you were now, babbling to Lando, all the while he has this grin on his face. He was captivated by your knowledge and passion for racing, how you always seemed to have the right things to say on driver moves and strategies when some of your colleagues were clueless.

Mid-sentence, Lando's hand reached up to gently grasp your chin, tilting your head back as he pressed his lips firmly against yours. In between kisses, his smile was infectious as he teased, "You really do know how to stroke my ego, don't you?" The warmth of his breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine, causing you to melt even more into his embrace.

You grinned into the next kiss, resting a hand around his neck, “Maybe.” 

This was the Lando you had fallen head over heels for, the charming and flirtatious driver who constantly sought recognition for his talent. You knew that there would be difficult days ahead, navigating through the media's constant criticism of his abilities, but you were determined to show him love and support no matter what. After all, it had been a while since you felt this kind of intense connection with someone. The way he flashed his dimpled smile and playfully teased you made your heart flutter like a bird in flight.

You couldn't imagine a future without him by your side.

[l0vergirlwrites]

how do i know it’s true? ; steve harrington

synopsis: to steve, nothing involving the upside down could surprise him after everything him & the gang have gone through. until you get taken by vecna—the worst thing steve has ever witnessed.

warnings: swearing, mentions of trauma, blood & injuries, anxiety, possibility of dying, possession, general angst & vecna (yes, that creepy dude needs his own warning). but don’t worry, there’s fluff scattered in between.

note: this fic is inspired by the blue nile’s “the downtown lights” (let’s pretend it came out before season 3 plz) & phoebe bridgers’ “garden song”!

for a moment, everything was fine.

well, your definition of fine was watching your friends climb up a makeshift rope of bed sheets from the upside down gate in eddie’s trailer. you couldn’t help but let out a few laugh sat their reactions when they landed on the mattress eddie had placed beneath the gate as a landing pad.

this was your normal now; casually going in & out of dimensions to solve supernatural puzzles & attempt to save the day all while wondering if you were ever going to finish your algebra homework (you secretly knew you wouldn’t ever find the time).

steve, being the helpful man he’s known to be, was kneeled on the ground with his hands cupped so he could hoist each person up towards safety despite his abdomen aching in pain from bat bites. he truly was your hero.

when it came to be your turn to climb, you couldn’t help but run a hand through his hair.

“chivalry sure isn’t dead, huh?” you ruffled his locks of brown & amber, feeling your heart beat a second faster when he smiled & scrunched his nose cutely at your action.

“definitely not when it comes to you” he winked smoothly, feeling pride in his chest when you grinned wider at him.

“okay, time to hop on up miss”

gripping onto the rope of sheets, you felt a pit in your stomach start to build, but steve tapping the back of your jean covered thigh snapped you out of it.

“i gotcha, don’t worry” he assured with a determined look in his eyes.

like hell he was ever gonna drop you.

so with a nod of your head, you lifted your left foot onto steve’s cupped hands & felt him push you up.

but then everything went black.

at first, you thought your nervous system may of just forced you to shut your eyes in fear of going head first & falling upside down through the gate (you still could not fathom the physics that explained how it worked), but to no avail, all you saw was black.

soon enough, you couldn’t feel the rope.

you couldn’t hear steve or your friends talking.

you couldn’t feel steve.

now, you were starting to panic.

just as you were about to scream, you felt something sharp on your neck. a long nail dragging across your skin too softly to break the skin. the hairs on your arms stood up, goosebumps littered your body, & all you could do was freeze.

“i think you know why you’re here,” a chilling voice whispered into your right ear, making you cringe as you felt the creatures warm breath fan against your skin.

vecna had you trapped. fuck.

“you know, living with the guilt you’ve harboured for so long must be quite exhausting—isn’t it?”

no, no, no, no. this can’t be happening.

“knowing that if you had kept your mouth shut, your anger controlled, that maybe—just maybe, your father would still be alive”

in a flash you were transported back to that haunted day, back to that road trip that your father forced you to go on. you never had a good relationship with him to begin with, so being stuck in a small space for seven hours wasn’t your ideal way to spend a weekend.

it was a few months after your parents finally divorced after years of fighting, screaming, family dinners that were unsuccessful. your father had wanted to bond, to atone whatever trauma he had inflicted upon you as a young child from refusing marriage counselling (or counselling in general) to work on his behaviour.

but as expected, he was too prideful to admit he was ever in the wrong.

which leads you to that moment in the car.

he blamed you for whatever wrong turn he had made a couple miles back, & since you were the one holding the map, it began a screaming match that festered into a tug of war. you tried to get him to let go of your wrists, to let you lead you both out of the barren forest covered dirt roads so you could ge to wherever the hell he wanted to take you to, but he wouldn’t budge.

however, one wrong move changed it all.

it was when you elbowed him the eye accidentally, causing him to yell in agony & involuntarily push his right foot harder on the gas. he wasn’t paying attention to his speed, nor the way the steering wheel was turning.

one minute you were on a dirt road.

the next you were upside down on a rocky ditch that was at least thirty feet from where the dirt road was.

your vision was blurry with blood from a cut on your forehead. your right ankle aching & smushed tight between your car seat & the concaved passenger door.

your father, who hadn’t worn his seatbelt, was partially through the car’s windshield, body covered in glass & blood & you couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

you stayed like that for hours, with the car alarm blaring in your ears until a first ranger showed up as your saving grace.

but your father didn’t survive. & you still believed it was all your fault.

“wouldn’t it be nice if you could let it go? atone for what you did? stop the guilt from eating away at you?” vecna’s voice boomed in your ears.

you were paralyzed in fear, praying this moment would be over.

*~*~*~***~*~~*~*~**~*~*~~*

“you got a good grip, y/n/n?” steve asked after you stilled for a moment, left foot still in the palms of his hands, waiting to be boosting upwards.

you stayed silent. frozen.

steve called out your name again as your grip loosened on the rope & your body began tipping backwards. he quickly reacted, catching your limp body in time before your head smacked the ground.

his heart stopped when he saw your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

“no… no, no, no, no! fuck! please, please not you—not you” steve yelled, his hands cradling your face & occasionally slapping your cheeks gently with hopes you’d snap out of it—hoping vecna would let you out of his grasp so steve could make it better.

“steve? what’s going on down there?” robin yelled, her voice echoing into steve’s ears but his heart was constricting & his chest felt really heavy.

“he’s got her—he’s fucking got her & she’s not waking up!” steve yelled again, tears brimming his eyes in fear because he could lose you right now.

brushing your hair out of your face frantically, steve continued tapping your skin. “sweetheart, you gotta wake up. it’s steve—i’m right here. can you hear me? c’mon—come back to me, baby” he croaked as the minutes went on, drowning out the panicked voices in the gate above him.

“what do i do? what do i do—“

“steve! what’s her favourite song? we need her favourite song!” dustin yelled repeatedly, trying to wake steve up from his own panic mode.

it clicked—how could steve forget.

music.

“holy shit. that’s it. favourite song, favourite song…” steve began to feel hopeful, scouring his mind through a rolodex of memories until he found the one he was looking for.

“the downtown lights by the blue nile! the cassette’s in my glovebox! hurry!” he yelled with a heartbroken plea, his eyes not leaving your face. “c’mon, baby. wake up”.

steve didn’t care that he was crying now, but he wasn’t gonna give up on you. while the others were searching through the glove compartment of steve’s b&w & eddie’s stash of cassette tapes in case, steve just started to sing the song in hopes you’d hear him.

“sometimes i walk away, when all i really wanna do is love & hold you right…”

his voice was cracking with nerves, failing to stay completely steady as his chest hurt & his hands were trembling against your skin.

“there is just one thing i can say. nobody loves you this way,” he held back a sob, his heart clenching at how your eyes continued to roll back. “it’s all right. can’t you see, the downtown lights…”

~*~***~~~**~***~*~~***~**~*~

steve learned your favourite song early on when you started dating, around mid october after starcourt fell, where you invited steve over for a sleep over since your mom went out of town for a weekend.

he knew you hated sleeping in your house alone after the events of the summer, so he didn’t mind keeping you company. you both had sprawled out on your living room couch, coffee table filled with pizza, pop, & your favourite treat (which steve picked up on his way over as a surprise). the movie on the tv had become background noise by the time you both had finished eating, bodies turned to one another underneath the blanket you two shared.

“so, when am i gonna get a room tour, hmm?” steve asked as he brushed some hair away from your forehead, fingers tucking some starnes behind your left ear as you looked at him as if he had hung the moon.

“i’ll show you under one condition, harrington”

“i’m all ears” he said eagerly, scooting closer to you on the couch.

nervously, you raised your left index finger to your lips & tapped them, eyes flickering between steve’s brown ones & his pink lips. he watched you closely, getting an idea of what you wanted (which made his stomach roll with butterflies).

“ahhhh” he dragged with realization, “want me to kiss you? is that it?” he teased, making you feel smaller than you really were under his gaze.

but before you could turn away or back out, steve was cradling your cheek & bringing you closer to him. his breath fanned your skin, noses lightly brushing against the other.

“i really wanna kiss you too” he mumbled with a smile before leaning further to close the gap.

you hummed in delight when your lips pressed to his, fingers fisting the material of his sweatshirt because it felt so good. steve could hear his heartbeat loud in his ears as he continued to kiss you, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek to make you melt under his touch. the longer his lips meshed with yours, the more your body had moved to practically sit on top of his, chests just touching as your arms trailed up to wrap around his shoulders.

“steve” you breathed, pulling away with a pant but still staying close.

“was that too much?” he asked concerned, chest rising up & down as he looked at you with care.

it was you who kissed him next, one that lasted a few seconds before resting your forehead against his. “n-no—it was really nice” you exhaled with a smile, arms tightening around him when you felt his left hand resting on your lower back, rubbing up & down soothingly.

you both hasn’t realized that the movie was over & the channel had switched over to music videos. playing softly in the background was a song you had a deep spot in your heart for. turning towards the tv with a tiny gasp, you smiled harder when you saw that it was the blue nile.

“that’s my favourite song!” you whispered excitedly, turning back to steve when he tapped your cheek.

“what song is it?” he asked, not having too much knowledge about them.

“the downtown lights” you replied sheepishly.

“there is just one thing i can say. nobody loves you this way,” you hummed along to the lyrics with a small smile.

steve watched you, admiring how your face looked with the tv glow casting on your features. he thought you were just the best thing ever.

turning up the volume with the remote in his hand, steve listened intently to the lyrics, right foot tapping against the carpeted floor to the beat. “it’s really pretty—just like you” he said, smiling brightly when you chuckled at him.

“that’s so cliche, but thank you”

“cliche but true. & you’re welcome”

~**~*~~*~***~**~~**~**~

after he let the memory replay in his mind, the cassette tap for the band’s album “hats” landed by steve’s feet with a walkman & a headset.

“finally!” steve yelled more so to himself, brushing away a stray tear on his cheek to grab the items

first he put the headphones over your ears. then he attached the tape to the player & forwarded the tape to the song’s track number. turning the volume up, steve’s hands resumed their spot on your face to hold you, to coax out of whatever horrific trance you were in.

“hey, can you hear me? it’s steve, your steve. you gotta wake up, okay? you gotta come back to me” he begged, his hope growing thin as the seconds went on.

“everyone’s here—dustin, lucas, max, robin, nancy, eddie—we’re here. we want you back. we need you. i promise i won’t do anymore stupid impressions or be an idiot—i’ll be whatever you want me to be” steve continued to ramble, praying that you were listening, that you were coming home to him.

“i-i love you. & i can’t do this without you” he cried to you, not caring if any of his friends heard his love confession in the moment because you were still limp in his arms.

he could vaguely hear the yells of his friends trying to talk to you too, trying to lead you back to reality. but all steve could focus on were how your eyes continued rolling into the back of your head.

it wasn’t until the song was about to restart on a loop where steve felt your arms twitching, your chest raising up & down rapidly. before he could even blink your eyes returned back to normal, lips letting out panicked breaths as you scanned your surroundings, hands about to push steve’s away until you saw him.

“s-steve?” you asked wearily, voice feeling small & fragile after the return to hell you had just experienced. “w-what… i-i don’t understand…” you were at a loss for words, confused & scared.

“it’s me, honey—i’m right here. it’s okay now,” before he could finish, you were hiding in his chest, hands gripping the jean jacket he wore so tightly in fear that this was another trick. that maybe you weren’t safe & vecna still had you.

you sobbed hard, breaths becoming strained with each cry that tore through you. every time you closed your eyes, you were back there again—back in that god forsaken car with bloody vision & your father dead. back where vecna told you your worst fears.

“you’re safe. i’m here now. god, i was so worried—ohmygod” steve rambled assurances, cradling your head close like he was in disbelief too, making sure that you were really back in his arms.

surprisingly, the headset was still secured to your head, downtown lights continuing to play from the foamy speakers into your ears. the song calmed you down a bit, made you feel grounded. but it was steve’s touches, the smell of his cologne, & his soft whispers that called you home—back to reality.

“is this real?” your broken voice asked, needing to make sure it was really him.

so steve pulled your head back to hold your face in his hands. he smoothed the sweat, the baby hairs, the tears, & splotches of dirt off your skin, giving you the kindest look you’ve ever been given. “ yeah, i’m real. i’m not gonna hurt you. i gotcha, yeah? won’t let anything hurt you again, promise” he swore with honour, his own lip trembling when your eyes continued to well up with tears.

“god, i love you” he pressed his forehead to yours, exhaling a shaky breath when one of your hands pressed against his chest to feel his heartbeat.

that was the most intimate thing he’s ever felt.

“i love you too” you mumbled back to him, pulling him in for another bone crushing hug to say all the words you wanted to in the moment. steve got the message loud & clear.

[cutieeva]

Returned Home

Female reader

Warnings : Death. Murder.

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒

What happens if the person you love went missing and suddenly reappear in your doorsteps ? Because (Y/N) doesn't know how to react.

Knocks at the door were light at first, almost like a whisper before turning into frantic and loud like screams that (Y/N)'s sleep broke, a whine slip past her lips not loving the thought of her rare sleep intruded, all after that incident she almost at the verge of becoming the shell of a human, always worrying, little guilty yet hollow the entire time. Perhaps time will heal her wounds and pause the bleeding unfortunately not the knocking because it keeps increasing in alarming amount. She thought in her daze mind, wrapping a soft cloth around her nightdress she step out of the sofa, how tragic despite having warm bed, beautiful home with many rooms the only place she fell asleep was on the sofa in living room in front of the still on TV which is repeatedly showing some episodes of only murders in the building her mind has almost memorized.

"Coming !" She yell, messaging her forehead, feeling her head burn from both the torturous knocks and the stress of what if the twins wake up. Her feet drum the white tiles walking towards the front door and finally her eyes open to peek at the peekhole for safety. Huh ? She rub her eyes once more to peek yet why all she can see is black ? Her fogged mind question not still awaken from the slumped when she flinch feeling the knocks vibrate the door so closely.

"Who is this ?" Her voice stern, not fearful she could have been if awake, adamant to not open the door. Silence replies her. No voice only silence along the knocks. Her eyes narrow feeling her body ache from pain and the headache worsen. "These children". Her neighborhood is fill with all age children and unlike her sweet twin angels, these ones are the demons, the one she was thankful to not have. Oh, remind of her babies, what time is it ? Her eyes glance at the clock on the wall 7:00 am, whoa ? Which child is playing pranks at her doorsteps instead of being in school ? Oh ! Today is Sunday she forgets.

Must make breakfast she thought, her lips shaped a yawn about to walk away from the door "It's......me". Her heart sank, breath sucked. "(Y/N)". She remembers that voice, her whole fabric of being knows that voice, the voice she heard, whisper sweet nothings, laughs loudly, quick to anger, arrogance in his speech. In a second her hand having a mind of it's own, touch the shivering cold doorknob, twist it to unlock and swing open fast enough to not gave chance for the creaking noise.

Revealing the visage of none other than her husband, Vesper Rufus who is missing for two months after the alone trip to mountain.

Munch ! Cracks ! The noise of his devouring simple milk with cornflakes sends strange feelings within herself. Sitting across the dinning table of her husband who's black shirt made her recall it's original color white with his pale skin painted in faded marks of nasty bruises and bite marks belonging to animals, even insects she suspect, a grime cast her face merely thinking of what he went through to be alive in that forest where no police, forest rangers, rescue rangers even herself couldn't find. Hell, the helicopter wasn't of helped. Her eyes then slide below his body that is hidden by the counter where his pants are in the same condition, grey pants painted in coal. Her head span to her behind looking at the door to see no shoes of his as she found him barefoot with crimson hue smeared over his feet.

Click ! Her thoughts snap at the noise of his meal finish turning her vision to his face, dirt, scratchs cover his blemished handsome face. A smile lift those once perfect plump lips now dry and chapped. A happy sparkle in those pools of eyes she fell for that with time and marriage forgetton to dust leaving only a usual reflection of hers she used to bore before he went missing. Suddenly a yearning ache pull her body towards him, stand down from the metal chair, silently cross the line of space and stood under those eyes. Immediately she was hit by the smell of dust, rot, filth yet without a second she throw her arms around him, surrounding her body into his and hug him tightly, the cold body.

Her lids cover her vision, soaking into the frosty embrace and slowly she sense his arms embracing her back, gently to tightly and burying his face into her curve of neck like she was his roof, her shelter he just been gifted.

"Where were you these two months ?" Tears she thought were dried roll down her cheek, her voice soft. "The kids were crying". she added flood with the images of her twin sons wailing at the first news of their father might never returned as the police declared him dead saying no man has the capacity to survive in that stormy mountain more than two weeks and he was missing for two months. Perhaps they didn't found the body because the wild nature covet him or the animals feasted upon him. She likes to think the former. But now she knows, she knows they didn't find his body because he was alive all along.

"Children ?" She felt him title his head in her neck. "Ah ! Children, the twins". His voice muffed and horse like decades of out of speech. Softly like she handle her flowers she lean away from the embrace regardless of his hands still on her waist.

"You remember who am I right ?" Vesper nod like a good man he never was.

"(Y/N) Rufus, my wife, my soulmate". Those sharp onyx eyes that slice her heart multiple times tendered looking at her as if for the first time seen her, feel and stare so intimately at her. Never did she thought the gaze will be directly to her again after their dating phrase pass into the marriage years.

"And about the children ?" She ask, tip toe up to him, pressing her body, her breast to his and lips inches away. Intoxicated he looked, like sipped a bottle of beer he drunk with pink tints on his cheeks to ears, falling in her spell as if for first time he fell in love.

"Leo, Felix". Breathless he answered, leaning closer to her, brushing his lips with her yet not closing the gap. Why ? She wonder because never did her husband cared for her consent. If his sexual desire awaken he will use her like a escort not a wife. From the beginning he announce his ownership on her like she was a object and her past self mistook it as romantic and after marriage she was a servant. Never a wife, was a lover.

Maybe that's why his missing didn't pain her as much to shed a single tear until now when he is different, his warmth disappear, his arrogance fended leaving a stranger in her arms and she still kiss the stranger. Her lips collide his and it confirmed more. How naive his kiss is like he is exploring her, knowing her for the first time unlike him, who knew her like the back of his palm or— perhaps it's his self pleasure he knew like the back of his palm. Never hers, not after their marriage. The brand of ring tied their fates together as well as ruinning.

Not a hint of bad breath or taste she felt oddly, rather bitter taste of nature hits her when their lips met, at first like a careful of understanding he press their lips hard before she open her lips, giving him the space to enter and he mirrored it, like a learning child slide his tongue, following his guts and savoring her hotly, a contrast to his frosty body. Tips of tongue tease her inner flesh as he wish like she is his salvation before harshly mushing their body and lips more near than humanely possible, with brim of desire and addiction he bite her lips, tongue tenderly, exchanging sliver salivas and breathing heavily like he was suffocated yet not ready to leave as he continue to drove deeper, deeper into the mouth and (Y/N) felt being devoured by a predator not her husband who never with such passion held her, gave her pleasure.

Heart racing and breath threating to stop she ripped herself away, coughing fits at multiple times and drinking water unlike him, his lips hanged open, eyes beastly nothing similar to the sparkly happiness and red blush adore his pale skin. Their eyes met and without another warning he smashed their lips.

"You are so sweet, so deliciously sweet". Mumble his horse voice in the kiss, eating her lips like she was a dinner, shamelessly staring at her while invading her mouth and she let him, kiss her as if her being was the only source of meal. Been ages did her husband desire her such as this moment not to mention it proves more he wasn't her Vesper and it brought her nothing apart from relief.

Suddenly he paused, eyes wide and grip tighten. She slowly freed her swollen lips yet dig the knife deeper in his back. Yes, while he was under the spell of his lust, she went near him— more like near the knife set and stab him at his weakest moment.

"Who are you ?" Calmly she asked, hearing the thrives of her knife twisting his skin, flesh yet no trickle of blood bleeding. Strange she thought glances up again meeting his blank face. Not the agonizing look of a man being stabbed. Not her real husband who's eyes were betrayed, tears sliding and blood bled from her mouth like a fat fish squeeze out of it's body as before.

"Who the fuck are you when I killed my husband with my own hands ? When I buried his body under the solid of that mountain ?" Gritten her teeth, the mask of calmness cracked as she pulled the knife out desire to see the blood bled out of the man she loves so much, devote her life, birth children cutting from her flesh yet he cheated on her bluntly and gaslit her when confronted and spiral into questioning her own sanity. However no blood slide, no scarlet paint his pale skin.

"How ?" She whispered, in more disbelief of him not bleeding than her dead husband who she clearly murdered after planning thoroughly knowing his plan of visiting the mountain which he lied saying he is going alone when in reality his mistress and him will intertwined in ways she can't imagine and follow him before the mistress meets him and killed him brutely, stabbing him fourteen times in his entire body leading his death due to blood loss and burying deep into the soil that took hours only to return home unscathed.

Erriely quiet the stranger wore her husband's skin stare at her angered ones and part his lips. "I see, no wonder that was the most gruesome body I ever seen—" The raspy voice slowly get used to speech pause and (Y/N) sense him debeating. "And wore". The end words was something she couldn't swallow, couldn't avert eyes nor run hearing the conformation in his own voice.

"Who are you then ?" She tremble. He notice.

"Who am I ?" He tilt his head mirroring a clueless being. "Who am I ? What am I ? Doesn't matter because what am I isn't what suppose to exist yet I do and now I am your husband yet not. The body is his, yet what inside is not". Game of puzzle he answered. "I won't die, never bled nor need of humane things. I am of a being neither alive nor dead". Neutral his voice rang her ears echoing inside and frighting from the laughable answer but she knew better to laugh. No other way could her husband retrieve from dead than be possessed by something inhumane, abnormal like the myths tales of creatures she heard.

"Then, will you kill me ?" She let go the blade that isn't even paint in blood, shining her terrified reflection as it was fell on the floor with a biting click.

"No. I like you". A short answer relief her stress a little. "You taste sweet, you smell sweet and you are sweet. I want to cherish you, kiss you like I did. I want to claim you mine". Chanting every word he pepper kiss over her skin. Worshipping, caressing each curve, drinking her making her visible relax and something in her tells it's safe. He is safe—to her. Why ? maybe because her husband terrifies her more than a creature from tale.

"And my children ?" Her words carefully used. Her, not their. He halted in his actions. Inhaling her fabric when he reunite their lips again.

"Not them. Because they are ours. You are my wife, my soulmate and they are our children". Yes, it is because the moment he smell of unwelcome human scent in his home, he prepared to feast them, chew their bones and if unlucky torture them until they beg to death however it changed finding one glimpse of the beautiful woman bearing bloodlust and hatred the creature swore he saw her shining upon a halo and the way of her body soaked in blood of the man's arouse humanely needs he never felt apart from endless hunger. This hunger was different, pleasureful he seen these humans do sometimes before their withered body aside inside his stomach.

He watched the angelic woman, the lymph of paradise left the man buried and he walked out of the shadows to the place the man is under, saw his belongings along his address and the lymph is his wife— (Y/N) with twin sons. Good she killed him before he had to and now she is his, her children is his, all of her is his alone.

Tiny groans, tapping of floor steal their attention and (Y/N) watched her children wore night outfits walking towards the open kitchen, rubbing their hazy eyes.

"Mama I am hungry". Her three old years son said, the older one between them.

"Me too ! But I want pizza". The younger twin said, opening his eyes only to widen and grasp loudly. "Papa !" Following a joyful scream his tiny feet ran to the stranger wore their father's skin and the older twin also stare, face brighten in happiness the mother didn't saw since he was missing. His body was thrown to their father too and unnatural, his arms touch them back, still glancing to see (Y/N)'s visage than theirs.

Touching his familiar face, she caress saying "Yes, papa has returned home". The man lean in decided not the say one more thing, actually the real husband she killed was alive the time he was standing above the ground however he killed him again. For good and twice his death was before taking his skin.

"Indeed I have". Smiling crazily. "Returned home".

FIN

[livelaughlovesubs]

Nini, what about vampire Fyodor x vampire hunter reader (〜^∇^)〜 like you’ve been assigned to hunt down and bring the head of Fyodor Dostoevsky to uhh.. a king idk.

So you track Fyodor down and instead make a deal with him. You won’t kill him and actually let him feed off you and he lets you fuck him (ゝз╹)

At first he’s hesitant. A well ranked hunter coming to him and proposing a friends with benefits arrangement sounds pretty suspicious, but hearing the offer that you let him feed off you makes him agree since it’s an easy meal and he was planning on betraying you later on.

Thats until he’s bent down on all fours and being pounded like wild animals in heat. The vampire is so touch starved that he can’t handle the pleasure and tries biting anything he can (let’s just say you were left with a bunch of bite marks) After that experience he traps you in his manor and begs you to stay with him, maybe he turns you into a vampire as well

-🍮

I had so much fun writing this haha, and I had to brainstorm trying to fill in some plot holes

Dom!reader x sub!vampire!fyodor

Warning: teasing, pet name (lil’ vamp), pegging (I use dick), a tiny bit of dacryphilia, biting, hierophilia (blood), vampirism, contract sex

Edit: I think I’m based towards fyodor, this ended up so long again-

You were a mercenary, one specified in hunting down those bloodsucking monsters known as vampires. Your name was infamous among the humans and vampire race, known for your amazing methods and efficient execution. Though you don’t care much about fame, the only good things about it is it lands you many missions. Which is why you’ve been summoned to the castle of a faraway country, one that resides close to a forbidden forest.

These mysterious forests are strictly forbidden due to vampires living within them. It’s always dark and quiet in those places, befitting their taste. So you might think it’s alright if people just don’t go into the woods. Sadly something like that can’t be prevented. There are many valuable resources beneath these trees, and everyone is dying to get their hands on those. The price for material from the forest is also really high, and sometimes that’s the only hope for the commoners.

Even though it’s been agreed upon that humans shall not disturb the vampires for they own safety, your client, the king, wanted to raid the forest. He had his eyes set on the wood planted around the mansion of the monster, it had a beautiful dark colour and was very sturdy. Yet out of fear for the power of the entity, he didn’t dare set a single foot into the woods. That’s when you come into the spotlight, he wanted you, the most famous vampire hunter, to take care of this. Once the vampire is gone, he won’t be breaking any rules, right?

This was a common case for you, everyone used you to do their dirty work. That’s the life of a mercenary, disposable and self-destructive.

You walked through the lavish halls of the king, meeting him in his throne hall. He didn’t spare you more then one glance, shouting loud enough for his voice to bounce off the walls, “y/n, vampire hunter. I have an honorary task for you. I want you to bring me the head of the demon Fyodor Dostoyevsky and for that you’ll be greatly rewarded.”

Despite it sounding grandiose and imposing you knew how to stand your ground, asking for the exact amount you’ll be rewarded and an advance payment. The king on the other hand refused to answer, saying he doesn’t want you to run off with the money. What a joke, your previous feats aren’t just for show after all. There was no helping it, that’s life. You swallowed your anger and left, rolling your eyes as you prepared to set off.

The home of that demon was grande, almost as huge as the castle, he sure loved luxury. You circled around the house to secure your escape route before heading inside, the door opened with a climatic creak. What a cliche, does vampires not know how to take care of their home? Without sparing it too much thought, you stepped inside and called out for that monster, wondering why the ruler knew his name. They must have a long history between them.

“Fyodor! Heyyy, come out, do me a favour and make this easy.” You yelled, and soon enough, a shadow emerged from behind you. Before you got the chance to turn around, he mumbled with grace and elegance, “Y/n, the vampire’s greatest enemy. The one who pulled out the fangs of Dracula with your bare hand, and forced him to drink the blood of his comrades.” A shiver ran down your spine at his voice, it was low and pretty, enough to stir something inside you.

“That’s an exaggeration, I never did such things.” You turned around and chuckled, staring into his purple eyes. Before you stood a black haired young man with a puffy shirt and fitted pants. He wore many silver accessories, tons of necklaces hung around his neck. His appearance was very eye-catching, pretty features and pale skin, sickly so. “…but I may have a record of flirting with the enemy.” After seeing how beautiful he was, you decided to indulge yourself, flirting with him.

He didn’t pay your words any attention, instead he continued with his speech, “Mortal children strived to be like you, while we use your stories to scare the kids.” You stopped, a sense of pride engulfing you from the inside. “My, I am quite famous after all.” Fyodor furrowed his brows, as if he’s agitated, then he relaxed his expression and said, “I knew you’d come for me one day. And, I’m dying to try out your blood.” After saying that, he licked his lips before covering his mouth with his hand.

You laughed, catching him off guard. The sound of your voice was annoying, he felt like you were mocking him. Then you teased, “dear, do you really think you can touch my blood?” That was clearly a provocation, you looked down on him. He clicked his tongue, glaring at you. The moment you blinked, he rushed over to you, planning on taking you out with one swoop attack. You dodged him with ease, commenting, “not bad, but is this all?” And he ignored your remarks once more.

Seeing how serious he was, you’ll have to stop the joking soon as well. To be honest you weren’t in the mood for fighting, which is why you suggested, “How about this, fyodor-” “I didn’t give you permission to use my name.” He snapped, showing his fangs. “…then, lil’ vamp it is.” You chuckled, noticing how that pet name annoyed him further. “How about a deal? I’ll spare your life and you can have as much of my blood as I’m able to give you.” His pointy ears perked, intrigued by this proposal. It sounded enticing, but there’s nothing for free in this world.

“And what do you get out of this?” Fyodor asked, keeping his distance. He wasn’t going to heed the rules of a deal anyway, especially when made with a human. “Allow me to be a bit crude, but I want you to sell your body to me.” The boy froze in place, eyes widened in shock and disbelief. Were you aware of the implications of your own words? Was this another one of your mockery, your way of insulting him? “What makes you think I’d agree?” He questioned you, staring at your face with his scarlet eyes, trying to read you.

“I’m simply proposing a deal, you can decline or agree, it’s up to you.” Somehow you managed to sound unbothered and cheery despite the situation. No matter how fyodor wanted to decline, he knew this was his chance. If you fought with him seriously, he would eventually lose. Now, with you giving him new opportunities, he had to take them and put it to good use. “I’ll accept this for now, so, show me how sincere you are.” The demon demanded, and you answered with, “my pleasure, please show me to your room.”

Who would have known a day like this would come, where he got shoved into his own room, pinned to his own bed and humiliated in front of a human. It didn’t take long until you got him bend over on all fours, face pressed into his soft pillows. Any of his attempts to overpower you were futile, because you were physically stronger than him. That allowed you to pretty much manhandle him, denying him access to your neck. Once you got him into this vulnerable position, you didn’t held yourself back, asking him one last time if your deal still stands. After he nodded, you went all in.

Now you were breathing heavily while slowly entering his hole. His rim was tight and didn’t allow you any entrance, but you stayed stubborn, gently pushing your way in. “You are so tight, lil’ vamp.” You muttered, occasionally glancing over at him to see how well his reaction is. “Nghhh…! S-slow down, it hurts!” Fyodor groaned, cheeks flushed red as he realized the situation he was in, and that he never shared such intimate moments with anyone before. “…if I go any slower I wouldn’t be moving anymore.” You tried to reason with him, leaning down to press your body against his.

“HnnGh… t-then pull out…” He snarled, glaring at you while he felt your skin against his back, pressing him down, reminding him of your presence. How did things turn out like this? Why was he participating in such vulgar acts with his greatest enemy…? “Do you want me to? Then you won’t get my blood as well.” You whispered into his ear, licking his earlobe and the earring he wore. “Ha-haahhhH…! No, d-don’t.” The boy gasped, and you weren’t sure what he meant. But he seems to be enjoying himself, so you continued.

His hands gripped the white sheets with all the remaining strength he had, his ass reddened as he struggled to take you whole. That poor guy’s entire body was shivering, shaking as he tried to get used to this pressing sensation inside him. He could feel you stretching him apart, rubbing against his squishy walls. You smiled as you observed his efforts, one hand clasped over his hand as you intertwining your fingers with his. He had sharp nails, you could even call them claws. So you were worried that he’d poke holes into his sheets.

Your other hand explored his body, trailing down his spine with your fingertips, brushing over his body as if you were caressing a flower. “Hmm..! Uh-uhhng..! It f-feels weird..” It tickled him, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least he thinks it wasn’t. Next, you stroke his silky hair before grabbing his hip and mumbling tenderly, “you are doing good, don’t worry I plan on being nice for today.” What do you mean for today…?

Soon, your hips met with his, and you stopped moving until you were sure he was alright. “Good job.” You said, rubbing his blushing cheeks slightly. Then you held your wrist right in front of him, inviting him to bite you, giving him your approval. Without any once of hesitation, he sunk his teeth into your flesh, sucking viciously. He was feeling so weak from your actions, he needed that replenishment. Since he was distracted, you took that chance to start moving again, making sure to take your sweet time. Well, he looked like he’d break if you weren’t gentle with him. He had such a slim and frail physic after all. Just look at his waist, it’s so skinny you fear you could accidentally break him into two pieces.

Fyodor suck on your wrist, mind getting cloudy from the taste of your sweet blood. It tasted amazing, and it made him feel all foggy inside. As if he was getting drunk on it, addicted even. He made sure not to waste a single drop, lips pressed against your skin while he gulped down more and more of your vitality. Apparently he was so distracted he didn’t notice you pounding his cute ass, not until it was too late. You fucked him slowly but roughly, each time you’d thrust yourself as deep inside him as you could, feeling him clench around you so sweetly.

“HnMnh, nghh…” the vampire only whimpered meekly as he sipped your blood contently, feeling pleasure blossom everywhere inside him. You eventually quickened your pace, now rutting into him without any care in the world. It was instantly met with his mewling, a high pitched noise as he screamed in ecstasy. Fyodor couldn’t pull his thoughts together, tongue hanging out as some tears rolled down his face.

Then you pulled your wrist away from him, saying, “that’s enough for now. If you want more, you gotta work hard.” His eyes bore such a pitiful look as he begged you for more, face melting as he moaned around you, some of your blood sticking to his lips. “Ahhh… it felt so good, I-i don’t wanna stop..” he admit, hands shaking underneath you, his primal urges kicking in, infesting his desires and hunger.

“What is it that you want, fyodor?” The way you voiced his name made his knees go weak, tremble even. He panted heavily, trying to fill his lungs with air, to keep his composure. “I-I want more blood… I want your blood.” You smiled, seeing him so desperate fed into your own desires. And you felt like if you denied him any longer he was going to cry, considering his eyes were getting watery already. “Then come here, lil’ vamp.” You told him and wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you as you sat up, positioning him in your lap.

His first response was to whine as he arched his back forwards, legs turning into pudding as his hands shakily let go of the sheets, now clutching your thighs. “Ah-nGhh.. it’s so- so deep inside me.. it’s so foreign..?” Out of nowhere you turned him over, and he wanted to immediately bite your neck, but you covered his mouth with your palm. “Not yet.” As soon as he understood what you wanted, he wrapped his arms around your neck, bouncing up and down your dick like he was in heat. Your hand was still over his lips, so his moans all got muffled as they seeped through, “mHhnff, HnnGh, hmm…!!”

He rode you with fever and need. On one hand because he needed you and your blood on a carnal level, on the other hand due to him starting to enjoy getting fucked by you. After a while you took your hand away from him, now squeezing his waist with both hands, guiding his movements. Fyodor nuzzled against your neck, pleading with you, hoping you’d let him have some of that delicious red liquid again. “Y/n.. ah-huuHhn~ l-let me fed off you..? P-please..♡♥︎～?” You giggled to yourself, entertained and delighted, duty all pushed to the side as you said, “go on, take as much as you need.”

Needless of say, you two shared a long night together, and somehow, both of you ended up in endless love bites. Ops, what’s this? Oh no, his door is stuck! It must be because it’s so old~ oh no, seems you’ll have to stay at the mansion longer than expected… and his impending heat is coming up ♡

My friend send me this after I told them what I was writing haha

[azlrse]

➳ unintentionally (a boothill x gn!spouse!reader oneshot)

cw: major angst w/ open ending, reader has a bruise (unintentionally) from their ranger husband, accidental slap (also unintentional), established relationship, married au, lots of apologies and crying present here, ooc boothill (first time writing for him)

a/n: alright, as soon as i saw boothill for the first time, I was like "bet lemme write something for him". he's gonna be ooc cause 1. i didn't play the game yet (cries incompatible tablet) and 2. i am still learning the roots of this game's lore (and him once he's released) lol

!! fic contains sensitive topic, steer clear if this fic ain't your piece of cake !!

"darlin'?" a voice called out in the side of the storage room. "please come out, i-i didn't mean to hit you and im really sorry.." your husband called out for you softly to avoid scaring you further. his constant knocking and coercing you to come out lasted for 5 minutes, making you curl up further within the corner of the walls. "leave me alone.." you meekly spoke, voice still hoarse from your earlier cries as you held your bruised, swollen face.

his constant knocking just faded away as you sobbed, using your free hand to wipe away your snot and tears dripping from your face. if you just steer clear from him and not pestering him because of his anger, you wouldn't be hit and to be screamed by boothil to just leave him alone. you knew that your husband is like a dynamite, ready to explode at any moment due to his occupation. boothill assures you that he will never lay a hand on you, even when the both of you are either arguing or disagreeing over something that's simple and stupid.

but this day, he broke that one promise that kept you safe since the day he asked you out. just because of his anger towards that one outlaw who's on the run for weeks. almost captured but alas, his luck ran out once again as the prisoner kept on taunting him that he will never be caught by him.

boothill, on the other side of the door, won't give up as he waits for you to open the door and letting him treat your bruised lip and swollen cheek. he knows that it's not an excuse for him to let out such anger towards his spouse. guilt kept on creeping through his system, hearing you sobbing telling him to just leave you alone. "im sorry, sugar.." he sadly spoke, reluctantly returning to the sleeping quarters that the both of you shared.

at around 4:30 am, he quietly opens the door of the storage room and looks around to see if you are sleeping soundly; tear stains on your face, a bruised and swollen cheek, and using a rolled towel as your pillow. his heart shattered what he has done to you and knew that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. he feared that there will be a day that you would leave him all by himself, all because of how he acted towards his own emotions and anger.

boothil scooped you into his arms as your head leaned towards his warm body. he knew that you liked it when you huddled close towards his chest as he placed a chaste kiss on your head. placing you on the shared bed, he cleans your bruises and places an ice pack on the side of you. he stared at your sleeping face for sometime before he murmurs soft apologies to you, even promising that he will never do again.

the soft light from the curtains woke you up from your sleeping slumber after the ordeal last night. 'strange..' you thought to yourself as you saw the ceiling of the bedroom you shared with your husband, not the plain white ceiling from the storage room where you seek safety during your husband's anger episode. you placed a hand on your bruised cheek and felt a small gauze on top of it and a bit of cold from the ice pack he placed on the side of your face last night.

you tried to get off the bed but felt a robotic arm wrapped around your waist. "no, no..." boothill softly murmurs. "five more minutes sugar, needin' you here right now.." a wave of anxiousness just came rushing towards you as you saw your husband on the bed with you, snuggling as he finally woke up from his sleep; his cropped jacket is gone and only had a pair of short as his sleeping attire, his hair smells like newly lit cigarettes from his trip to the saloon yesterday.

if you aren't anxious, you would be flustered of his appearance.

"mornin' sugar.." he softly spoke as he leans in to give you a kiss. afraid, you quickly jumped off the bed and quickly make a beeline for the storage room once again. "w-wait!" his quick reflexes caught your arm. "don't leave me, let's talk it here my love. I know what I did is unacceptable and I'm really sorry for hitting you." Silence looms within the bedroom as you eyes avoided his. "Please.." He pleaded, his eyes soften as guilt crept on his back.

it's up to you to decide of you should stay for him or choosing your own peace...

a/n: not my best work but hopefully you guys liked my take on boothill (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)♡

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

[whateverloomis]

if u want, u should do a stu x reader where they are bsfs when the murders start and he's all "oh I'll protect u im so buff," but yk the whole time he's the one tormenting and killing people. the freak def loves to scare her by sneaking in and jumping her bones, ghostface costume and all

I focused on the scaring reader and tormenting for this one, plus added Billy into the mix here because I can't resist putting him in the picture, but this is Stu focused as requested. I hope I delivered anon, enjoy! <33

Warnings: Suggestions of sexual activities, chasing, mocking, tension (fear and doubt,) angst-ish, betrayal, threats, unedited

Reader: AFAB reader (She/Her)

You were running up the stairs of your two story house. The masked figure was right on your tail with a knife in hand.

You don't know how the ghost face killer got in your house to scare the hell out of you, but it was happening. You felt like you were at the edge of death in your own home. Again.

You entered your room seeking safety, but he was quicker and pushed you against the wall, knife against your throat. As you took a few deep breaths to calm down, you shook your head and glared at him.

"Stu, this shit isn't funny anymore!" You yelled and took the mask off his face but were met with someone else.

Billy Loomis.

He was smirking at you, seeming satisfied with the change of Stu's usual prank.

You managed to push him away enough to set yourself free from his grasp.

"What the fuck is going on!?" You yelled and suddenly heard laughter coming from your closet. Walking past Billy, you opened the doors to reveal Stu. He stepped out and stuck his tongue out in mock.

"That was so good! You should've seen the look on your face!" - "That's enough! What the fuck is wrong with you?! Both of you!" You screamed and the boys stood silent for a few seconds before Stu broke the tension.

"Hey, I'm just kidding around YN," he said and walked towards you.

You walked past him and sat on the edge of your bed; "I need you to be honest with me, Stu..."

They both looked at you quietly, waiting for your question

"These... "Pranks" are way too realistic... Too accurate to the descriptions of the victims. Stu... You've made me doubt..."

"Hold on, you told me this is the first time you were doing this prank," Billy told Stu, anger evident in his tone of voice.

"I... Well, technically yes, with you!" He explained and Billy pushed him against the wall, knife against his throat.

"You're telling me you've been fucking around, scaring YN and practically exposing us?! You're a fucking idiot, you know that?!" Billy whisper screamed at the tall boy and all he could do was laugh nervously and keep saying that he was only joking, not exposing anything.

You couldn't make out what Billy was saying to Stu, the boy strategically talking loud enough for Stu to hear.

Everything was too suspicious and felt way too real to be a prank at that point.

"You... You're the killer... Killers..." You said, head low and thoughtful.

Billy looked over his shoulder and you could see the rage on his face; "What?" he whispered.

You swallowed thickly and inhaled, nervousness taking over you. Stu wasn't a trustworthy person anymore so you were lost. You didn't know what to do.

Stu pushed past Billy and laughed nervously; "Psh c'mon, no we're not. It's just a prank YN, we're fucked up like that!" he exclaimed and you stood up, walking back towards the bedroom door.

"Don't... I'm calling the police-" - "Mm, that wont be necessary." Billy said, rushing behind you and locking the door. You were scared out of your mind. Were they going to kill you? Stu out of the both of them? Your best friend. The one you thought you could trust with your life.

"Please... Stu. I thought I could trust you," you said, feeling betrayed.

"We were never going to do anything to you babe, but now," he paused and walked towards you enough to sandwich you between him and Billy who instantly held you in place by wrapping one of his strong arms around your torso; "...now that you know, you have to die," your best friend finished his sentence and for some reason you felt defeated.

"Stu please... Don't... I'll do anything," you talked softly, looking up at him. Begging with your stare.

You felt Billy tense at your words and squeeze you slightly. He got excited with your words.

Stu chuckled and smiled manically at you; "That's never the correct answer baby. You know what always happens when the pretty girl says she'll do anything."

And that you knew. Of course you did. Stu's suggestive words made Billy chuckle behind you. He clearly wanted the same thing your best friend was implying.

If you weren't in this situation you would give into them without question but here you were, with seemingly no other option because death sure isn't one. It never was...

...and it won't be.

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ - III - Charms

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: Danger is imminent, as is Feyd-Rautha's birthday celebration in the arena. Passion and fear abound as parties try to nagivate through new realities. Your desire for Feyd-Rautha is growing, along with the trust between you. Secrets are revealed and sexual appetites explored.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: mentions of a sex dungeon, masturbation, aftercare, choking, inexperienced reader, heavy petting.

Part I 🖤 Part II 🖤 Masterlist

ᴘᴀʀᴛ - ɪɪɪ - ᴄʜᴀʀᴍꜱ

Trembling with anger Feyd-Rautha watches as the water runs crimson at the bottom of the cleansing chamber. The self cleaning mechanisms are turned to full capacity in attempt to free him of the sticky blood and debris of the nights terrors. A thousand cuts could never be enough. Your tears were more than that to Feyd. He’d broken his promise to protect you always. He had to send a message, cruelty had never truly come easy to him. After his father’s passing he learned quickly that brutality was the best means of survival. The worse his behaviour the more celebrated he became, soon the fear and respect in peoples eyes became his preferred drug. Pushing out the sadness and replacing it with a simmering rage did wonders for him. It opened the world to him. He’d earned the fear his name illicited. It had been a decade since he felt fear like the fear that nearly paralyzed him last night. The words in his headset had to be repeated several times. He found his chest heaving violently, there was not enough air in his lungs. He’d killed three men while still in the ship from lashing out, he couldn’t get to you fast enough. It was all taking too long. The journey back needed to happen at light speed. His chest felt tight as his head spun. How could he lose you so soon? How could anyone be so bold? So disrespectful, so careless with their life? The thought of losing you before he could ever truly be a husband to you tortured him more than he could bear. He’d found no relief in the fear of your eyes , how you clung to him, your trembling, your racing heart. Typically he revelled in it, but not then not with you. It was harrowing. He’d only found reprieve in the slowing of your heart rate, the slow relaxation of your muscles, the way you melted into him for safety. Then, he was able to take in your scent and how perfectly you fit in his arms. The softness of your flesh, the trust in your eyes, the feel of your lips on his. He hadn’t expected a kiss, nor did he feel he deserved one after failing you.

  Drying himself off Feyd dresses before heading to his armoury, too angry to rest before meeting the Baron. Hesitating he stops in front of your door as he had every day the past week. He’d decided against trying to enter then, but now things have changed. He needs to lay eyes on you before starting his day, physically - a screen won’t suffice. Sliding his hand into the reader it opens. He finds you brushing your hair into place. Your usual apprehension replaced with a surprised smile at the sight of him. He watches you as you put down the brush and walk into him. It takes him a moment to return the warm gesture taking in your scent and the feel of your body against his. Relief at your well being and resilience washes over him. It feels like it’s been minutes when you pull away and Feyd can’t remember the last time he engaged in something as pure and intimate as a long hug.

“Have you slept?” You ask looking into his weary eyes.

“I have to meet the Baron” Feyd responds feeling the need for you more. He stands behind you breathing you in and his hands hovers over the covered bruises on your skin.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore, I was able to brew a tea” you explain and he takes your hands looking at your bruised knuckles once again. It he could revive the men who’d harmed you to give them another million cuts he would. Bringing your hands to his lips he places kisses onto them hoping last night is the first of many kisses.

“I can postpone my fight if you need me to” Feyd says considerate of your mood and mental state. There’d been no time to watch you sleep last night while he had been administering your retribution but he had quickly scanned through the footage from your bedroom finding you tossing and turning all night. He’d never missed a night, not even while with his pets, his pleasure slaves had only been a slight distraction from his need for you.

“No, you must uphold your traditions” you advise.

“New traditions can be made” Feyd interjects.

“na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen has a reputation to protect. The people want to see you in the arena” you remind him.

“The people are not my concern” Feyd says looking into your eyes. His affection for you is clearer now. His level of attention, his concentration, his agony. Feyd is incapable of false moments. Pure passion personified, that’s the danger of him. His strength and weakness.

“Then they must be mine, Feyd there mustn’t be any perceived changes. As heir the peoples adoration of you is important.” You explain.

“Not more than yours” he confesses. He thought he lost you.

“Feyd, please” you whisper holding his hands. Your eyes look up at his and it’s only seconds before you see him cave. “Go to the Baron, prepare for your fight and I will be here with the guards or in the infirmary with Leia” you tell him just as a buzz sounds at the door. His hands go to his knives as he steps in front of you. After a moment he moves aside and you see Leia. She’s in a wheelchair.

“I can wait outside” she says holding up her hand. Feyd watches the girl with appreciation. Had Leia been killed or brutalized more seriously it would have completely ruined his chances with you.

“Leia please come in, we can have breakfast” you smile. For the first time Leia looks to Feyd-Rautha without averting her eyes, she points a respectfully slow nod in his direction in spite of her injuries. He returns the gesture watching as you make a space for your friend at your table. Content with the state of affairs he gives you a final look before heading out.

“na-Baron!” You call out stopping him in his tracks. He raises a brow and you motion for him to follow you into your private chambers. Tracking your steps he enters the room he already knows intimately from hours or surveillance. “You must try to withhold any affinity you have for me or it will be exploited. You have no other weaknesses and I would prefer to be a strength” you whisper. “Honesty” you whisper as his eyes search yours in confusion. He hadn’t known many women outside of handmaidens and pleasure slaves but what he had heard and learned in his years was that women were proud, they enjoyed affectionate displays and declarations, they were in constant competition with others to show and prove their mate to be the best.

“Would you prefer I stayed away as well?” He asks feeling slighted.

“No” you respond in earnest.

“May I return for dinner after training?” He asks.

“Yes” you respond and he recognizes a blush on your cheeks. He gets a head-rush and smiles pleased with your reception to him. If it was up to him the Baron could wait. The scent of your room is intoxicating. Almost as much as the sight out you without fear for him. Pressing his lips to your forehead he breathes you in, restraining his urges for more. He’d never known fear once his parents had passed only rage. The agony of his father’s loss was a suffering he didn’t want to bear again. He would heed your warning. Stepping back he sets the tone, the chemistry between you two is kinetic. He takes your hand placing a soft kiss over your bruises.

Letting go he leaves through the main room casting Leia an acknowledging glance. The main doors whoosh open and you hear him barking orders before they close. Turning to Leia you place a hand on her shoulder before sitting. She sees the change in you, the fall of your shoulders, the ease of your steps. She’d been worried since the abduction remembering vividly how long it took you to be somewhat alright after fleeing your home world. She had been there for the night terrors and the panic attacks, she had been there through your darkest days. In spite of your sometimes tenacious personality she had never seen you fight. You had taken hits on several occasions. It was against the Bene Gesserit way, each sister was to have a strong predisposition to survival for the breeding program - however with you it was never the case. The other sisters stopped picking on you when you were slow to react and a few of the others intervened. Leia knew more than most it didn’t bother you as they thought it did. But she saw you fight. Saw you fight with precision and intention as you reigned your head back to break the bastards nose. You’d waited for her instead of peeling off for the safety of self-preservation. You’d done that for her, for the both of you. Now you were sitting before her with an ease to you she hadn’t seen in years. Smiling she withholds her need to comment.

“What?” You ask looking up at her.

“Careful with that one or we both may be in these chairs” Leia winks and you shake your head at her vulgarity. “You can feel his affection for you from far away, he’s managing his desire quite well. Keep kissing him like you did last night and that restraint may snap” she warns. Sitting in front of her you feed her breakfast so she can nurse her injuries a little while longer.

“He’s in danger” you remind telepathically.

“It’ll be alright” she responds in the same way. Looking into Leia’s eyes gives you hope calming the nerves that have been on edge since the attack. She takes the fork from your hand holding it inspire of her injuries. You squeeze tight thankful she’s at your side. Leia had finished more of the sisterhoods training then you, she had been a successful component of the breeding program, she had been permitted into rooms and special councils. She was being prepared for espionage.  It was during her training when she had used her telepathic power of persuasion that you picked it up. It had worked on the entire room with the exception of you.

Your silence speaks volumes.

The sisterhood was supposed to protect you from the brutality your fathers fall caused not inflict more torture. Had Feyd-Rautha’s intention been to brutalize you, had he been everything everyone said he was you would have suffered thrice. Once with the fleeing of your home world, then for the weeks with Feyd-Rautha and finally at the hands of ‘The Beasts’ men. It was the kind of cruelty reserved for enemies and not allies.

“I’m finished with them” you speak plainly. Leia swallows seeing the seriousness in your eyes. She gives a slow nod feeling less victimized by the politics of it. She believed in the objective of achieving greater goods. As things stood now Feyd marrying the Princess would be ideal.

“As am I” she nods in solidarity.

________

Looking at your reflection in the shiny black stone table its hard to recognize yourself. Life with the Bene Gesserit, is a life of subtlety and intrigue, veils, headdresses and masks, there’s no room for displays of beauty, style or power outside of specific confines. All behaviour would be governed by the objectives of the order - only now you would be done with that. The curl of your lashes is striking, as well as the black lines on your lids. It’s not the Harkonnen way, but your mothers. Leia had been an advisor of sort as you tried your best to fashion an undo from memory to match the one your mother wore on special occasions. You had called in the seamstresses to adjust the fit on one of the robes provided in your closer. A floor length crimson piece with a hood. Cutting bout the high neckline and taking in the sides to fit your figure is a bold choice but it’s Feyd-Rautha’s birthday tomorrow and you intend to try to make it special for him. The replica sword of the one in your home world lays across the table sheathed in an intricate scabbard Leia helped you create over the last week. There would be little time to present it to him tomorrow, so tonight would have to do.

Looking at the clock you see its far past the time dinner is usually served. You hear movement and sit upright in anticipation. It fades and you slouch at the sight of the Mentat. His expression is regretful.

“na-Baroness, please eat something - I do believe something has kept the na-Baron” he says. Nodding you stand slightly ashamed by Feyd’s rejection - another broken promise.

“I will eat in my quarters” you force a smile. He speaks into his earpiece taking the blade in his hands.

“The na-baron will love it” he says to be encouraging. Nodding you smile sure he will appreciate the craftsman ship that went into creating an accurate depiction of one of the galaxy’s most recognizable blades.

“Do you know if he is with his Harpies?” You ask.

“He isn’t” the Mentat responds without hesitation.

“The Baron?” You ask and he swallows regretfully.

“Among others, but you should not worry” the Mentat assures. Swallowing hard you pause for a moment before turning to Feyd-Rautha’s personal quarters. You cross the dining room and head to the unfamiliar black doors.

“Don’t!” The Mentat snaps as you stick your hand in the reader. To his surprise the doors open without alerting the safety measures reserved for intruders.

“I’ll only be a moment” you turn to him stepping into the dark room. The doors close behind you, lights illuminating slowly with each of your steps until the place is fully lit. The interior takes your breath away when you view all the knives, blades and swords hanging on the walls. A number of large portraits of Feyd-Rautha hang all around the large open space. Stepping back you look for his bedroom and stop an open door. Your steps take you there a large statement bed rests in the centre. It’s high with two marble steps to get up surrounding three quarters of it. Chains hang from the ceiling, with straps of all sorts attached to them. There’s what looks like a cage too, and a large X in the corner near it. Swallowing you try to make sense of it until a screen catches your eye. Stepping in you see a screen showing what looks to be your room, you see your bathroom and bedroom. Before you can confirm a red light flashes into your retinas, before you can blink the screen goes black. Stepping backwards with a shudder you place the blade onto the table with the attached note and exit. 

The Mentat watches you closely shocked by your ability to enter the na-Baron’s quarters. Feyd-Rautha’s security had been noticeably ironclad. He’d seen many try to break in or sneak in with no success and somehow you entered so effortlessly. Your heart races as you try to make sense of what you seen, all of it. 

“Can you have Leia, brought to my quarters?” You ask the Mentat. He speaks into his earpiece to have it done immediately.

Dinner is served and Leia consoles you listing dozens of reasons for Feyd’s absence you tell her about his bedroom, the chains, the empty cage the large X, but you omit the screen not completely sure what to make if it. Leia’s eyes light up her penchant for mischief proving useful as she explains in excruciating detail all of the possibilities. Just as your fear had begun to retreat Feyd’s tastes gave you more reasons. He was into administering pain, and having total control. He’d asked for your absolute submission but you had never considered it would lead to being suspended in the air for his pleasure, tied to wooden blocks, spanked, collared, degraded and hurt. 

After dinner you head into your bedroom casting a quick glance into the area the vantage point of a camera would be. You see a sconce in its place, a black ornamental sconce, there’s one in every corner of the room. Swallowing your about to to begin undressing when you hear the door open. Tensing you stay put afraid of another attack, stepping out of room you peer around to the living area and see Feyd. You sigh relieved.

“Apologies, the Baron kept me” he says before stopping in his tracks. His eyes drink you in, it’s like he’s been placed under a trance. You look him over a little confused until you remember he’s never seen you like this before. All done up for him. Feeling a little nervous under his intense gaze you nod.

“I had dinner already, I’m sorry I waited” you whisper as his mouth closes, his Adams apple bobs as he nods his bald head.

“You waited?” He asks his voice grittier and lower than ever before.

“For hours” you respond a little unnerved by the darkness of his eyes.

“I ought to drown the Baron in his tub” he snaps just over a whisper to himself radiating frustration. He couldn’t dream up a more beautiful woman, and you’d put in effort for him after he’d asked you to dinner. 

“I wanted to give you a gift before tomorrow’s celebrations” you confess.

Feyd blinks nodding, grappling with the gravity of your words. Days ago you were running from him. Now you were within reach and other peoples actions were jeopardizing his happiness.

“It’s in your room, I left it on the table I hope it’s no problem” you tell him but he hasn’t moved. His stillness is unnerving, like a snake before it strikes. His muscles contract before his hands unclench.

“You were in my rooms?” Feyd asks with suspicion.

“I hope that’s alright, I placed your gift on the table and left” you explains but he’s suspicious.

“Follow me” he says holding out his hand. You take it heading to the other side of tour living quarters. “Only you can open this door” he says putting your hand in the reader. The doors open and you’re in his quarters. You step into it extremely surprised. Your thoughts head back to the strange contraptions in his room as Feyd moves quickly having the screens put away before heading to the table. His hands hover over the box and he looks at you taking the scroll.

“Dearest na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,

It is custom to give handmade gifts on birthdays. Please do not take offence, this took me ten days to craft with help from Leia and the Mentat. It’s the only thing I could think of that you may enjoy. 

Wishing you the happiest of birthdays and many more!

Y/N”

He pauses smiling at the strange kindness of the scroll, remembering several before. He’d often thought your gifts were juvenile and silly but he’d kept them anyhow. Bracing himself to put on a show of support he opens the box. His eyes deceive him. Narrowing his eyes he takes the blade from the box. He runs his hands over its sheath having seen it before. Looking back at you he turns to the blade knowing it well. Drawing it out he looks at the shiny metal and blood red centre. As legend would have it, the blade could never be turned against the bloodlines of your home planet. It could cut through anything but would dull against the flesh of its own. It had been made with blood from all of the families and brought to a religious order where it was forged in secrecy. There were none like it in the galaxy.

“It’s a replica” you speak as he admires the craftsmanship of your work. You’d been making this for him while he’d taken space, you’d been preparing this for him while others had been plotting on your life. You’d been making this for him in spite of your fear of him and reservations upon arriving. Putting the blade down he turns to you with dark eyes. It wasn’t the gift of a captive, it was a gift from a betrothed. Fighting for control Feyd kisses you once chastely before coming in for another, and another parting your lips. Your breathing changes as Feyd’s kiss becomes more dominant, the fingers on your chin slide down your throat and his strong hand secures around your neck kissing you with force, marking you, claiming you. His tongue sending sensations of pleasure and lust all throughout your body. Foreign sensations that exhilarate you, you feel your skin tingle as the heat rises between the two of you, your nipples hardening as the sensation in your stomach grows. Your knees grow weak and Feyd moves to his couch sitting with you across his lap without ever breaking the kiss. Your heart is racing, a strange want taking you over. You can feel him beneath you, growing harder and harder with every moment. Your senses and emotions come to a head all at once. You feel it happen, you see Feyd laying beside you, shirtless, with a hand around his manhood. His eyes stare at you while you look at him stroking himself lazily. Another flashes and he’s in the area you’re watching him when he’s sliced across the back after sending a smile up at you., while in the arena. Then there’s another you're standing in a brown palace facing a woman with blue eyes.

Feyd’s hold tightens around your neck and you pull back gasping for air. His eyes are black and his breath rugged. Your eyes hold his as he returns to the moment. Closing your eyes you wrap your arms around him terrified on the second vision. Your lips still tingle with the memory and taste of him. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks with concern. You can still feel the ghost of his touch on your neck.

“No” you whisper fighting for breath as Feyd places his face against yours, your noses and lashes touch against each other. Feyd allows himself to be intoxicated by you. The feeling was singular, he’d never been one for kissing but it was all he could do without causing you dishonour before the wedding ceremony. You wrap your arms around his neck and his muscular arms hold you close. 

“Tomorrow during your fight, don’t look up to me - just focus” you whisper.

“I will do as I please, no one will best me. In the arena I’m king” he speaks confidently. You. Go to withdraw but Feyd’s hands secure at your hips. His eyes challenge you.

“Do you trust me Feyd?” You ask and he takes a breath never breaking the eye contact.

“I don’t know … should I trust someone as perfect as you?” He asks reaching down to the hem of your dress and tearing the fabric up to your thighs. Your heart races with anticipation.

“Yes” you nod breathlessly in anticipation for his next move.

“May I request another present?”

“If you promise to heed my warning” you nod as he palms the flesh of your thigh. Your eyes close.

“May I taste you on my fingers and with my tongue?” Feyd asks.

“Taste me?” You ask, your uncertainty only thrills him more.

“It would make you feel good, I’d use my fingers to give you pleasure and kiss your centre” his words are illicit. Thinking back to his bedroom you hesitate thinking for the both of you.

“I don’t think we should Feyd, I don’t think it would stop there and you need to be focused tomorrow” you respond causing a guttural groan. Your heart aches for denying him.

“Goodnight” he says standing and putting you back on the ground. He storms to his bedroom. Confused and conflicted you head to the cleansing chambers feeling the sting of rejection. The automatic system does as it should, you cover your body conscious of the sconces and walk into the living room feeling restless. Seeing the separation of his skin as it was sliced is haunting. Such a gash would take a long recovery and impair his ability yo protect you physically, it would make him vulnerable. Dressed in a night set you pad over to the joining doors and place your hand in. It opens and you walk to Feyd’s bedroom. Knocking at the door his eyes widen in surprise at the sight of you.

“Could we lay beside each other instead?” You ask trying to bridge the distance.

“We can” he says leading you back to your bedroom. You watch as he knowingly heads to the side of the bed you don’t sleep on. Your suspicions are confirmed, he has been watching you. It’s a strange thrill. He pulls back the covers and you do the same before lying down and Feyd-Rautha draws you into him. He’s all muscle and all man. His shirtless upper half is impressive and warm. You run your fingers over his sides enjoying the feel of his smooth skin.

“Thank you for my gift” he says placing one hand over your breasts and cupping it as you lay with your back to him.

“You’re welcome” you respond and he places a kiss on your cheek.

“Will you give yourself to me after the wedding?” He asks and you smile at his one track mind.

“Yes but you intimidate me Feyd” you confess. “I’ve never been with a man and I’m not sure life has prepared me for a man with your tastes” you confess amusing him. Moving quickly he positions himself over you and between your legs on his knees. He places his hand over your lady parts he presses a thumb against your entrance over your clothes and the sensation is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Leaning down he kisses your lips pressing slow circles against you. 

“There” he says withdrawing his full lips from yours. “It would feel better than that” he explains going back onto his knees. “I would use your breasts to bring you over the edge too” he says touching your chest, Feyd never breaks eye contact as he kneads your breast over the fabric. Your nipples appear and he pinches one before kissing you gently. You miss the feel of his had at your centre and squirm under him as he deepens the kiss. You want him to show you everything he knows. “I’ll do my best not to hurt you” he whispers breaking the kiss and laying on his back. The dim light over the bed allows the two of you to see each other well. He slides his pants down and removes his cock. A large appendage that looks far more alive than those in the library books. It fills his hand and has a weight to it. Its tip is shaped reminiscent of a cherry and beautiful. It leaks clear liquid and he strokes it slowly without any reservations.

You feel swelling at your centre, and a heat there, the pull to Feyd is almost magnetic, it’s strong and undeniable. His eyes look to yours as he strokes himself lazily, more vivid than in your vision.

“Not before a fight” you whisper knowing the custom but he’s too far gone. With his free hand he pulls you into a kiss imagining its your wetness riding his cock with a vice grip. Your body completely naked under his your soft lips on his like they are now. His mouth all over you claiming you as he fucks you hard. He wanted to make you scream and moan for him and only him. He needed to hear those sounds play like a chorus over and over. He needed you feral for him, he needed you on your knees with your mouth open whenever he entered a room. He needed you waiting naked in his bed with your legs open. He needed your obedience, trust and devotion. You to be open to his toys and predilections. He needs all yeses, for all of his desires. He needs you to take control too, make your demands known and be unrelenting until he satisfies them. He needs to see his pleasure all over you and wearing it proudly.

Seizing the image of you covered in his cum sends him over the edge. You watch as his eyes shut and Feyd biceps flex, his body goes rigid and thick streams of cum sprout from him. His chest heaves his strong pectoral muscles fully flexed as is his neck. He looks vulnerable as he fights for air. He’s beautiful, something primal tells you that this is all your doing. That this is the effect you have on him. Wanting to honour it and him you step out of the bed with shaky legs you take a washcloth and run it under a warm tap. You feel his eyes on you as you return stepping into the bed you pull the drapes obscuring the view of the sconces.  Sitting beside him you place the cloth over the mess he’s made and begin to clean him off. He watches you without words still hard as you clean his manhood, stomach and hands. When you're finished you toss the cloth in the incinerator and wash your hands before returning to Feyd.

His eyes drink you in, his chest burning with love for you and the way you just took care of him. Nobody had ever been so gentle with him. Tucking himself away he reaches for you prepared to give you the world. There was no better gift, there never would be the you in his bed in his arms, no better gift then the wonder in your eyes as he pleasured himself. Exhausted and overwhelmed Feyd slips into sleep with his head on your bosom. Running your hands down his muscular back you begin a few Bene Gesserit mantras of protection over him, needing now more than ever before for him to be protected as your heart races because one of your visions had come to pass.

PART IV

_____________

Thanks for reading 🩶 Don't forget to let me know what you think of this chapter, with a like comment and reblog.

I don't think Margot Fenring survives survived her attempted seduction of Feyd. Can they manage waiting until marriage? Are there more assignation attempts? Does the vision come to pass?

hmm....

TAGS:

@elf-punk @dvmb4ssbiatch @thegabbyh @fanfiction-addict22 @meetmeatyourworst @jojoclown69 @lillypink @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @avidreader73 @emeraldsgirl33 @strawberryfieldsforevermore @rose-are-royal @delusionsofnostalgia @szapizzapanda @palomavz @mcswan02 @slutforsmut4ever @emeraldsgirl @jackiekae @sarahhelpimsinking @maat-the-prescriptive

[keen-li]

COOKIES

A/n: just a little quickie

Military au

....

I brought you some of your favourite cookies I made" you smile warmly at the man in uniform infront of you. You stretch out the little bag showing him how much effort you put into bagging the goods.

And as he opens the contents of the bag, he admires the effort you also put into making it. You didn't have to, he told you this before, but you did and he appreciates it still . He knows it's one of your ways of showing him you care and love him. Plus you wouldn't listen even if he told you.

Back home you and him always made these little cookies with weired faces on them. "The weirder the face the sweeter they are" you'd say smiling like a child as you drew onto a cookie.

He'd just stare at you and admire the energy you put into it.

"I think that's very true considering how sweet you are" he says wrapping his arms around you to trap you from moving. When what he said registers you gasp

"Hey!!!" You yell and try to move in his grip but fail. He finds it amusing, cause you can't do anything and he has you trapped, that's why he did it so he can hear you whine and complain.

"Are you saying I have a weird face?" You whine energy wearing out. Jungkook let's out a chuckle and your face scrunches up in faux anger.

"Not really..." he starts "but sometimes" he moves he's head around as if pondering on times when he thought your face was weird.  Of course he doesn't think your face is weird, he loves your face; loves to place many tiny kisses on it and loves watching your expressions change according to what your thinking. You also know that he doesn't think your face is weird, you just play along cause you know that's how you tease each other.

You elbow hum lightly and his wall falters and you're set free. You immediately turn to start placing tiny (unharmful) slaps on his chest.

"Sometimes when huh?" You egg on and you continue to slap his chest, his very hard chest that's not affected by your weak blows.

"Like now" He says through your hits and at his words you throw a heavier slap that echos in your quiet shared apartment.

You pause fearing you've crossed a boundary. Yes he's your boyfriend and you've been together a while but  you're still kind of afraid of crossing boundaries,  especially the ones you are unaware of. Jungkook notices the little pout on your face and knows what you're thinking,  he doesn't know how many times he's going to tell that there's no blow that you can hit him with that's gonna hurt him, unless you kick him in the nuts.

"Hey that's all you've got?" He acts mockingly trying to lighten the mood, and with the scoff you let out he knows you know that he doesn't mind.

"I outta take you to the gym, your punches are kinda disappointing" you chuckle at him as you turn back to your cookies.

"i don't need the gym, I walk enough stairs and carry enough files at work" your wrist rolls as you draw your weird faces.

"And how do those things help with you learning to throw a good punch" he wraps his arms around your waist and closes the space between. Your stomach does a little flip as you feel his closeness, it feels like the first time everytime he does that. You hope he never stops.

"I don't need to learn to throw a punch..." you bend a little to get the right angle for the face you're making and as you do you brush against jungkook and he can't help but groan.

"...I have you" he can hear the smile and confidence in your voice. He's happy that you find confidence and safety in him, but he's not always gonna be around and those moments make him sick. Sometimes he wishes he could become a diety so that he can watch over you and protect you, but its not a fairytale and he knows he can't always be around. He always tries to make you understand that but you always take it as a joke. He doesn't know this but you do understand him and where he's coming from but you're just avoiding the reality of things.

"I won't always be around" his voice softens as he breath brushes past your neck and his head is quite heavy on your shoulder.

"Oh yeah? And where are you gonna go?" You say wanting to bring up the topic you've both been avoiding but needs to be had.

"The military?" You finish for him knowing he's not gonna say it.  You chuckle at the little sigh he lets out.

Your bodies disconnect and you regret bringing it up,the cold of the apartment finally getting to you. You know he isn't mad, its just hard to have serious conversations when your ass keeps brushing past his growing hard-on.

 He goes to stand on the opposite side of the island sighing as if ready to have the conversation. Your demeanour becomes a little more serious and your face falls as you hope you don't cry. You're the one who brought it up anyways,  but it's good, you need to face this.

"Do you think you'll be okay" his soft voice airs out.

You sigh and hope your tears don't fall and salten the cookies. You don't have an answer for him, you've never had the answer to that question. You can only hope.

"I hope I'll be okay" your voice fades out quite early at the end.

Jungkook knows its gonna be hard for the both of you. Sometimes he wishes he'd met you after he'd already served but that's not possible. He's glad he met you before though, gives him a reason to complete the service, come back home and now actually start life with you; like proposing. He wanted to propose to you before he left but he's mother told him he should do it after and he agrees. Proposing to you before he leaves feels like he's tying you to him and making and forcing you wait for him. He doesn't want to make you feel obligated to wait for him.

"You can move on you know" you roll your eyes once you hear him, you hated when he said stupid things and he often did when he got sentimental.

"Jungkook please" you chuckle "move on?"

You lift your eyes and they meet his doe ones, he should really hear how silly he sounds.

"Yeah, I don't want to make you feel tied to me. You you can move on find some dude who's already done his service and start the life you want" even though it leaves a burning bitter taste on his tongue and heart, he says it anyways. He doesn't even mean a single word, if he could he'd take you with him or he wouldn't even go.

You don't even react to him, knowing he's just spewing nonsense.

"And you'd be okay with that me starting a life with someone else?"

No.  Of course not. He'd rip the dude's head off once he found him.

"If it's what you want" you can hear the lies through his tone and demeanour.  You know jungkook wouldn't want that, he hates the idea and you know it would kill him cause it kills you too.

"You're acting like you're going away forever" you force a smile, it isn't forever but even a day away from him feels like eternity, what more him being away for months?

You hear him release a chuckle.

"Plus I've given you 4 years of my life, why would I throw that away. Its not like when you leave I'll stop loving you. Yeah I will miss you, yes I will cry but its not gonna hurt so bad that'd I'd want to move on or find someone else"

He listens to you and is happy you feel like that cause he does too, he could honestly just propose to you now but he'll still do it after.

"Babyy" he coos. He stands and walks up to you, immediately turning you around and capturing your cheeks with his palms. It's the first time he's heard how you feel about it, but in all honesty it's the first time you've just talked about it. There's still more to talk about but today's a good start.

"I'm going to miss you soooo much" he places a peck on your lips and you place your hands on his waist.

"I'll think about you everyday, I'll go through everyday knowing I'm a day closer to coming back to you. I'll do this so I can come back to you an we can make all the weird faced cookies of yours"

He kisses you softly again. You just lean into his kiss.

"Promise me something jungkook" your lips are only millimetres from his.

"Yeah baby"

"Don't think about me too much okay" you stroke his sides more to comfort yourself,those tears you've been holding are making their way. Jungkook holds you tighter noticing.

"I can't do that. I don't like lying"

And the flood gates open. This is gonna be harder than you thought.

The smell of the sweet cookies makes jungkook smile and he's already blushed cheek blush more. He pulls one out.

He let's out a laugh.

"Kept the weird faces huh?" he smiles and takes a bite, tastes like comfort and everything's he's been missing.

"Why would I change them. Told you the weirder the sweeter" you speak happiness in your tone cause you've finally gotten to see him. You grab a cookie from the bag and take a bite aswell. After having a couple more he rolls up the bags and packs it.

"I should hide these before someone else wants some" you chuckle at his words. Jungkook isn't the most generous when it comes to the things you make for him and he's not afraid to admit that.

"Not even one?" You mock.

"Nope. They can go tell their girlfriends to do that." He adjusts his uniform that you've been admiring him in. "But most of the guys don't have girlfriends so that's a shame for them" you both laugh.

"How's your friend jimin." You ask suddenly remembering him. Jungkook's surprised you remember him but again how can you forget the person you made you two start dating.

"He's okay. Been kicking his ass in training though" he pats himself on the shoulder with his tone.

"Take it easy on him,"  you try an bargain for jimin.

"There's no time for nursery care here baby" he stretches his hand out for you to take it and you do.

"Want me to show you my room?" He says pulling you towards a building.  He feels your hesitation and turns to you with a lifted brow.

"Am I even allowed there?" You bite your inner cheek.

"Yeah I can get permission if you want though."

You'd prefer he gets permission first you don't need him in trouble. And so you nod which hums to.

You start walk to jungkook's superior's office.

"Did I tell you how strong your hand feels" you say admiring the veins on his hands and the way he holds your hand for dear life.

"Is it?" He squeezes your hand slightly.

"Yep, gonna put them to work when you get back home" you rejoice swinging his arm.

"Is working ever gonna end for me?"  He whines.

"Nope.Never"

[lilacwants]

I have such bad memory so sorry if I already requested this! but request for a homelander x reader where the reader is also a supe. they had some bad experience with intimacy in the past & while they’re getting intimate with homelander they have a sort of flashback. basically hurt/comfort and then fluff. i am a huge sucker for homelander being soft when it comes to his s/o lol!!!

safe in your arms.

notes: of course anon this is so sweet!!! <3 i love soft! homelander with all my heart :’(. summary: in the quiet safety of his apartment, you find out that homelander can be surprisingly gentle & even caring. warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, soft! homelander.

You had always known that being a supe came with its own set of challenges. The powers, the public scrutiny, the constant pressure to be perfect—all of it weighed heavily on your shoulders. But the hardest part had always been intimacy. Past experiences had left scars, both physical and emotional, that you couldn't seem to shake.

When you started seeing Homelander, you were skeptical. He was everything you feared in a partner: powerful, intimidating, and unpredictable. But over time, he showed you a side of himself that the world never got to see. He was gentle, caring, and, surprisingly, vulnerable.

Tonight, as you lay together in the quiet of your apartment, you felt a strange mix of fear and excitement. Homelander's blue eyes softened as he looked at you, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur that seemed out of place for someone so formidable.

You nodded, though the truth was more complicated. You wanted to be close to him, to feel the connection that you shared, but the memories of past hurts were never far from your mind. As his lips met yours, you tried to focus on the present, on the warmth of his body against yours and the tender way he held you.

But then, as his hand traced down your side, a sudden flash of memory hit you. Another time, another place, another man who hadn't been kind. Panic flared in your chest, and you pulled away, gasping for breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Homelander said quickly, his arms wrapping around you protectively. "You're safe. I'm here."

You buried your face in his shoulder, the scent of him grounding you as you tried to push the memories away. "I'm sorry," you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. "I just... I can't..."

"Shh, it's okay," he soothed, his hand stroking your back. "You don't have to apologize. I get it."

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of frustration or anger, but there was none. Only concern and a deep, unwavering affection. "You do?" you asked, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his expression earnest. "I do. And I want you to know that you're in control here. We go at your pace. Whatever you need, I'm here."

His words were like a balm to your wounded heart. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Can we just... lie here for a while?" you asked.

"Of course," he said without hesitation. He pulled you closer, his arms a protective cocoon around you. "We can stay like this as long as you want."

You nestled against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. The memories still lingered, but they seemed less daunting now, less powerful. With Homelander holding you, you felt a sense of safety and peace that you hadn't known in a long time.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. "No need to thank me," he murmured. "I care about you, and I want you to feel safe with me. Always."

As you drifted off to sleep in his arms, you knew that the road to healing wouldn't be easy. But with John by your side, you felt hopeful for the first time in a long time. Together, you could face whatever challenges lay ahead, one step at a time.

[shooting-love-arrows]

How would yandere! Slavic groom react to reader being a hunter?

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐂! 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌 reacts to…a hunter! reader.

SYNOPSIS: Just when 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜! 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 thought he knew everything about the love of his life, it turns out that it isn't case at all. PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐜! 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 x [Hunter!] Reader (gender not implied/mentioned) Tw. hunting, description of hunting but nothing drastic, cussing, delusional thinking, overprotective behavior.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

POW!

Yandere! Slavic! Groom flinched, when a gunshot rang from behind him. His eyes widened and a finger placed on a trigger, he watched in utter disbelief as the animal hit the ground with a dull thug. It was a matter of seconds, a moment of hesitation on his side, that has cost him a good catch. It took a moment for this revelation to fully sink in. Someone just stole his quarry right before his eyes! 

Yandere! Slavic! Groom clenched his teeth and snarled. Since all his primal instincts were active in that moment, his logical thinking was put aside. Instead, he let his anger take control. High on adrenaline, he swiftly lowered his gun and snapped his head in the direction from where the shot must have come from. Thick bushes blocked him from seeing the delinquent that was hiding in them and he only saw the end of a barrel peeking from it, metal glinting in the late autumn sun. 

“What the hell were you thinking, you bastard?!” He didn’t hesitate to insult the other hunter. The hold on his gun tightened, when he saw the barrel disappearing and heard bushes rustling. Oh, how he just couldn’t wait to punch this fuc –

“I shoot it first so shut up.” 

Words died in his throat when you emerged from the bushes instead. Eyes nearly bulged out of his skull when he saw your adorable self clad in a colorful cloak, all covered in leaves, your braided hair messy, sweat could be seen gleaming from your forehead and a big stain of dirt on all of your front from where you were laying on the ground. Despite all of this, in his eyes you looked devine, like an angel but – but…

“W-what are you doing here?” Yandere! Slavic! Groom stuttered, quickly fumbling with the safety of his gun. He felt his face and the tip of his ears heating up until it felt like it was burning. He just embarrassed himself in front of you and…! Not to mention…

Throat dried up when he realized what he had called you. 

“Hm, unfortunately my father fell sick. So my mother sent me to at least try gathering some meat for the winter.” You scratch your head, remembering how your mother thrusted your fathers trusty gun in your arms and shoving you out of the house in the directions of the woods.

“O-oh…”

There was a moment of awkward silence. 

“I am so sorry for insulting you–!” Yandere! Slavic! Groom lowered his eyes until he was looking at his boots and being brave enough to only shyly peek up at you from time to time. His shoulders were still tense and he couldn’t help but to bite his bottom lip, drawing some blood in the process. He felt ashamed and embarrassed for acting brash towards you – love of his life. 

Would that make him a lesser candidate for your hand? Do you think now he'll be a bad husband? Will you find out what he did towards those other lads who proclaimed to be your future husband's? And worse of all: you’ll not want him to be your husband at all!

“Let’s just move past it.” You cut him off and strapped your fathers gun on your back again. “You didn’t know it was me in the first place.”

With that, you started making your way towards your quarry. Your mother will be proud of you and your father might even give you a set of beautiful beads you saw in the market last time…but most importantly, you’ll have delicious meat to feast on during winter. 

And while you were stuck in your happy thoughts, Yandere! Slavic! Groom breathed out in relief after hearing your sweet words. They were like honey soothing his bruised ego, soured mood and reasonable fears. For now, he decided to push back those nasty feelings and focus on the current.

Now that he was made aware that you can hunt, perhaps even hunted in the past, he couldn’t help but feel even more attracted towards you. Yandere! Slavic! Groom even found your hunting skills arousing. You were just so enticing, he began to believe you might be doing it on purpose just to show your interest in him (not like you have to).

A chain of poisonous thoughts began to fill his mind, once again, feeding him imagines of the future you’ll share together. 

Yandere! Slavic! Groom wouldn’t mind taking you to some of the hunting trips. But only after he'll be sure nothing…unexpectedly would take place. Like you wondering somewhere off where he couldn't find you or worse, you getting hurt (he shudders just thinking about it!). And definitely not as a hunter! No, no, no! You're to be his companion, who he can show off his hunting skills and protect.

It’ll be so exhilarating for sure! Both of you, in the wild, letting your primitive instincts take control. Maybe you could do more than hunting…?

Before his mind completely went into the gutter, he made a mental note that he’ll need to hide guns from you once he’ll officially become your husband and start to live together. He doesn’t want you to use it when unnecessary or better yet at all. Why would you need to? You'll have him! He can hunt you whatever you want! Better yet, he’ll do it without you asking.

You might think you are a hunter now but in the end, you’re still his prey.

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[sanguineterrain]

savior | jason todd

Summary: Red Hood is the stuff of nightmares. Red Hood is no hero. Red Hood is your best friend.

Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!reader 

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings/tags: angsttt, reader is afraid of red hood and they discover that he's jason, injured and kidnapped reader, emotional hurt no comfort.

A/N: hey guys! i didn't know what the hell to write so. this is what i came up with. hope ya like it :) if you like this fic, lmk through comments and reblogs!

the divider

“You fucked up!”

You wince at the shouting and the ringing in your ears. You try to sit up but that makes things hurt, so you lie still and listen. 

"What? You said pick a civilian!”

"I don't give a fuck what I said; obviously, you screwed up! He's not coming!"

You close your eyes, trying not to throw up on your gag.

Batman? Batman isn't coming?

No, that can't be. Batman knows everything that happens in his city. He wouldn't abandon a civilian in need.

You try to take a deep breath, but your chest tightens instead. Jason's probably tearing his hair out if he's home from work. He always stresses safety, to the point of paranoia.

Lock your doors. Don't walk down this street. Did you get home okay? Text me when you get home.

You hope Batman's out there, somewhere. Or any of the Bats. You don't want to die. You really, really don't want to die.

Thump!

Something hits the ground. There's a shout.

“You fucking shitheads! You were supposed to check the—”

Gunfire erupts suddenly, and you tuck your head between your knees as best as you can, with your hands and ankles bound.

Thump! Thump!

More bodies hit the ground. But Batman doesn't do guns.

"What the fuck is this?" comes a distorted voice. 

Your blood chills.

"H-Hood!” one of the kidnappers squeaks. “Sh-shit. What’re you doin’ here?”

“Protecting Gotham,” Hood says. “What’re you doing, McKelly? Thought you were on the straight and narrow. Thought the Bats taught you what happens to people who lose their way. Did the lesson not stick?”

“It’s not what it looks like, Hood! We just needed some extra cash and Black Mask—I swear, we weren’t gonna do anything to—”

“Was it worth it? He’s got my attention now.”

“It was meant to draw out Batman! Not you, honest! Aw, Hood, please. I’ll be good after this, I swear!”

“You assholes just don’t learn your lesson, do you?”

He turns and locks in on you. You freeze, tensing up.

“You hurt them," he says, voice like steel. "You hurt them. And you would've hurt them more, wouldn't you?"

“Hood—”

"I’ll kill you all.”

He shoots McKelly in the chest. You scream through the gag. Red Hood looks at you, and it seems to rekindle his anger tenfold.

He shoots the two remaining guys in the head. McKelly writhes, screaming. You shut your eyes and turn away from the bloodshed, stomach rolling. The crunch of bone and muscle makes you sick.

"Hood, please! This ain’t your s—”

The next shot silences the room. Your heart rate skyrockets; is this a rescue or a massacre?

As the footsteps get closer, you press yourself into the wall and quiver. Red Hood is terrifying. He's merciless, bloodthirsty. You know the stories. You don't even know why he's here in the first place. This isn't his territory; you live far from Crime Alley. What is he doing all the way out here?

You peek one eye open. Red Hood freezes. He's about two feet away from you. His jacket and helmet are splattered with dark blood. Tears prick your eyes.

"Hey," he says roughly, like he’s not fully present. "’S okay. Y’alright?” 

You nod rapidly. In reality, your ankle throbs, you might be concussed, and you’re sick with fear. And you don't want Red Hood anywhere near you.

"Okay. I'm gonna remove the gag."

You can't really protest; Red Hood's a big guy, and he has a lot of weapons on his body. All you can hope is that he won't decide to pick up where your kidnapper left off.

He removes the gag. Then he pulls out a blade. 

"Please don't hurt me," you say.

Red Hood stills. His voice is thick when he speaks again. The modulator doesn't soften his words. 

"I would—I would never hurt you. I don't hurt innocents. I... I came here to save you.”

It still doesn’t make sense in your mind, Red Hood being so far from the Bowery. You press your cracked lips together. You don't want to throw up. If you throw up in front of Hood, he might change his mind about saving you. 

“Hey,” he says. “It’s alright. I’m gonna remove the zip ties now, okay?”

You don't have a choice, so you watch the blade whisper past your skin. It would be so easy for Hood to cut more than the restraints. It's all you can think about, frankly.

He makes quick work of the binds. His hand lingers on your wrist. There’s blood on his sleeve. Your heart pounds in your chest.

He finally lets go and you pull away, scooting to the side. That puts pressure on your ankle, though, and you can't hide your wince.

"Your ankle," he says. "Let me see.”

You shake your head. "No, I'm f-fine. I just want to go home. It'll heal.”

Hood seems to make a decision then. He reaches for his helmet. It clicks and he pulls it off.

No. No, it can’t be. It can’t.

“Hey,” Jason says, smiling a little. “‘S just me. Just Jay. You’re safe.”

Your eyes dart between Jason and the bodies. This time, you can’t swallow your nausea; you throw up. There’s tears in your eyes. Your face is hot and sweaty. 

“You–you killed them,” you whisper. 

Jason’s smile fades. “They hurt you. I… I saved you. It’s okay. ‘S just me.”

You clench your hands, willing them to stop shaking. He watches you for a long moment. Then he puts his hand out. You flinch. 

Silence stretches. Then Hood—Jason speaks.

"You're scared of me.”

You shake your head. "Please, I just want to go home—”

"You want Batman instead?" He sounds choked. “You want Batman to come save you? Or Nightwing? Or Robin? You want a good guy?” 

This feels like a trap. You know better than to fall into it. This is the Red Hood.

"No! No, I-I don't have any problem with you, Hood, really, I'm just—"

“It’s Jason!” he shouts. “You’ve known me for three years! Jason! You know me!”

The night is catching up to you; tears begin to spill from how overwhelmed you are. You wipe at your cheeks quickly, trying to calm down, but it's too much.

Jason creeps forward like he wants to touch you. You press against the wall without thinking about it.

“Fuck, you’re—you’re terrified of me,” he rasps. “You think I’m a monster.”

Your panic has reached a peak now; you lose track of time and space, hyperventilating through your cries. Jason shoves himself backwards, tearing a hand through his hair.

“I’m good, I’m a good guy. You know me, you know me. I would never hurt you!”

You could've died tonight. The Red Hood is Jason. The Red Hood is no hero.

You don’t look at him, curled up and cradling your ankle. You’re afraid you’ll get sick again if you open your eyes.

Then someone's hand holds your shoulder. You flinch hard, expecting cold, glowing eyes in a red helmet.

Instead, you see white lenses. Nightwing smiles sadly at you, squatting to your level.

"Hey, there," he says. “I’m—”

"Hood’s here," you blurt. "Watch your back."

Nightwing glances behind him; Jason is across the warehouse, as much distance between you as possible. He has his knees to his chest. The corpses lie between you. Your eyes widen and you turn into Nightwing’s shoulder. He rubs your back.

"It’s okay. I know him. He works with us a lot these days."

“I would never hurt you,” Jason says quietly, voice cracking. “Never.” He doesn’t try to approach you again.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Please don't make me go with him,” you whisper. “Please, please…”

It hurts to breathe. Nightwing puts your hand on his chest and tells you to follow his breathing. It lasts a lifetime, it seems: Nightwing crouched to your level, exaggerating his breaths until you're no longer gasping for air. 

"Alright, it's alright. I'll take you home," he says. "It's okay. You're safe. I won’t make you go with him.”

Nightwing helps you stand, and when you stumble through your injured ankle, he catches you, bracing you with his arm around your back.

"Let's wrap your ankle first, okay?”

Nightwing guides you to a lone chair so he can tend to your injury. When you look up again, the Red Hood is gone.

[volturissideslut]

Hello!! Can you please do a yandere Marcus x stubborn human reader who’s a shield like Bella so when Marcus kidnaps her, they can’t use Chelsea or Corins gifts on her and she tries to escape multiple times which increases Marcus’s anxiety about her safety so he locks her up in the tower with Sulpicia and Athenodora. She stops talking to him when he comes to visit and finally Marcus falls to his knees begging for a chance and she ignores him, so Athenodora and Sulpicia explain his past to her. She feels sad and gives him a chance in return he has to let her have her own room and not in the tower. He reluctantly agrees and she slowly becomes more affectionate with him. Maybe height difference+ cute ending🥰please ignore if you don’t like it!!! Thank you!! 🫶🏻

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

"I am not a bird Marcus! You cannot expect to cage me and have me stay willingly" you huff from the other side of the room at him, too angry to allow him into your space. It had been an immediate adjustment, having gone from having your own place and freedom, to being confined to the hallways of the castle, and now locked in this one teeny (roomy, but the walls became suffocating in the long hours) tower.

"I do not intend to cage you, but you are so infuriating! How is it you attempt to escape from a fortress of vampires and not be caught, just to walk around the town willy nilly? It is not safe for you to wander. It is not safe for you to leave here. I am your mate and my duty is protecting you, and so you shall remain here" his glare is cold and it makes you wonder what warmth you might have imagined in him when you first met.

"And what if i don't want to be your mate, hm? What if i'm happier gone?" A step too far perhaps. He marches from his place up to you, invading your space completely. His nose brushes against yours, and though his touch may be delicate the fury in his eyes sure isn't.

The silence is palpable, the only noise in the room being your heavy pent-up breathing. He towers above you, head tilted down, and all your eyes see is the pitch blackness of his. Oh how you've angered him.

Your mouth goes dry, tongue dropping, and heart beating. "I'm sorry Marcus, I didn't mean-"

"Don't ever doubt my intention with you, Tesoro" the pet name seems more acidic than before, yet his forehead pushes against yours oh so sweetly. "I will tear down covens to bring you joy, burn the world for your mere satisfaction. I will not risk your safety. You want out of this tower? Fine. Come back to our chambers and play by the rules." The vibration of his voice has she almost in shivers. Perhaps with brazen lust of a deeply connected fear.

Heart in throat, you nod- not once breaking eye contact with the inky black of his. "i'll come back" your voice is a whisper, delicate like this moment as you watch him physically relax. He straightens up, now towering a whole head above you. "and i don't doubt you"

And for the first time in weeks, since you first tried hopping out a window to visit some stalls, you see his face relax and a small smile grace him.

Marcus leans over, a chaste kiss pressed into your lips. "Good" his eyes close, and he lets out a silent breath of relief.

"But we should talk about assigning me a guard, so that i might be able to have some freedoms at least?"

"If that is what keeps you with me" his head is in the crook of your neck, much like an overstimulated cat hiding with their chosen person. And you let the moment last, him getting affection the two of you had starved yourselves of for a week.

[cherriecove]

Cregan Stark x Targ!Reader (Part 3)

Summary: As Rhaeynera Targaryen’s only daughter you always knew that your hand would be given to whomever aided your mother and her cause. It was something that you accepted but naturally you always dreaded the day your mother would send you to your future husband, fearing whoever it would be to be cruel and old. Fortunately your worries were unfounded as your twin brother Jacaerys suggests a potential union with the Lord of the North. Cherrie's note: Use of she/her and mention of Lucerys death Masterlist | Previous Part |

As you returned to the hall, a quiet understanding lingered between you and Cregan. The warmth of the North’s hospitality was beginning to feel familiar, but there was a solemnity in the air, knowing that peace would be fleeting. The tension between your mother’s claim and Aegon’s usurpation of the throne loomed like a storm cloud on the horizon.

Later that day, as you and Jace prepared to show Cregan and his sister Sara what it’s like to ride dragons, a raven arrived with grim news—Lucerys had been slain at Storm’s End. The message was a cruel blow, draining the warmth from the day. Jace froze as he read the letter, his hands trembling. His eyes, dark with fury and grief, met yours, and in that moment, you felt the overwhelming weight of the war pressing down on both of you.

Grabbing the letter from your brother’s hands, you quickly read its contents. Lucerys, your younger brother, was gone.

"No..." Jace’s voice was barely a whisper at first, then broke into a snarl of raw anger. "Aemond did this. That wretched—" His words turned into a snarl, his hands curling into fists. You reached out, placing a hand on his arm, your own heart heavy with sorrow.

"Jace..." Your voice was soft but firm, trying to pull him back from the edge. "We need to be strong now. For the boys. For mother."

But Jace couldn’t contain his rage. He turned away, pacing the room with wild, furious steps. “He will pay. I swear by the gods, Aemond will pay with his life!”

Cregan, watching from the side, approached cautiously. His usual calm was now replaced with a hard resolve. “I grieve with you,” he said steadily. “This is a grave offense, a violation of all honor.”

Jace nodded, doing his best to remain composed in front of company. “We leave for Dragonstone,” he announced, his voice sharp with decision. “Our mother will know how to respond. And when she calls for war, we will not hold back.”

You nodded, though your heart ached with the knowledge of what was to come. Lucerys had been kind and innocent, and his death seemed senseless in the brutal game of thrones. The thought of your mother learning this news, already weighed down by grief, felt unbearable.

Cregan stepped closer to you, his expression serious but his voice gentle. “Princess Y/n, if you wish to remain here for your safety, you are welcome. I understand if—”

You interrupted, shaking your head. “I must return to Dragonstone with Jace. Our mother will need us both.”

Cregan’s eyes searched yours for a moment, and in that brief silence, there was an unspoken bond—a promise of support that went beyond politics. He nodded solemnly. “Then the North will stand with you. Whatever aid you need, Winterfell will be ready.”

Before long, you and Jace mounted your dragons. Vermax was restless, sensing the turmoil within Jace, while Mithrax remained steady, her presence a comfort amid the storm of emotions swirling around you. As you took to the skies, Winterfell’s snow-covered landscape faded into the distance.

The flight back to Dragonstone was fraught with silence, your thoughts consumed by what awaited you. The winds howled around you, reflecting the tempest inside your heart. When you landed on the blackened shores of Dragonstone, the weight of the news you carried settled heavily upon you. The castle loomed ahead, its towers dark and foreboding against the stormy skies.

Jace dismounted first, his face a mask of determination as he strode towards your mother’s chambers. You followed close behind, your heart pounding with dread. Inside, your mother was seated before the fire, but as you and Jace entered, her eyes turned toward you, and her face softened.

“Mother,” Jace began, his voice tight, “is it true?” His words hung heavily in the air.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched, and for a moment, her grief was overshadowed by the sight of her children before her. She swiftly came to you both, her eyes glazing with unshed tears as she pulled you into a tight hug. "No..." he whispered, her voice breaking. "Not Luke. It's all my fault."

You shook your head at Jace’s words. “We share this blame, Jace. It is not all on you.”

Your mother stroked both of your faces, frowning at the tears streaming down your cheeks. “No, my sweets, it was not your fault.”

The three of you stood holding each other as you cried for your loss. Your heart felt heavy with the knowledge that there was no turning back now. The drums of war had begun to beat, and soon the realm would be consumed by fire and blood.

The air in Dragonstone crackled with tension and purpose as preparations for war escalated. Soldiers trained relentlessly, and ravens flew in every direction to gather allies. Yet amidst the looming conflict, one piece of business could not be ignored—your impending union with Lord Cregan Stark. After the devastating news of Lucerys’ death, celebrating anything felt out of place, but alliances were forged in both battle and marriage, and the bond between the Targaryens and Starks was crucial.

Queen Rhaenyra, though consumed with grief, recognized the importance of the wedding. It would solidify the North’s loyalty, and Cregan Stark was already proving to be a valuable ally. One afternoon, you and Jace were summoned to the hall. Your mother sat at the head of a long table, surrounded by councilors and key advisors. Cregan was there as well, standing tall and resolute, his northern attire a stark contrast to the more elaborate garb of the Dragonstone court.

“My children,” Rhaenyra began, her voice steady but marked by the strain of recent events, “we must continue planning for the war, but we cannot neglect the importance of this marriage. The alliance with Winterfell strengthens our position, and Lord Stark has been gracious enough to expedite the preparations despite the tumultuous times.”

You exchanged a glance with Jace, who gave you a small nod of encouragement. It wasn’t lost on you that your marriage to Cregan was not just a personal matter but a political necessity. Still, as you looked at Cregan, standing steadfast and serious, you felt that this union was more than a mere contract between houses.

“I understand, Mother,” you replied, your voice measured. “Lord Stark and I are prepared to proceed as soon as arrangements are made.”

Cregan’s voice cut through the room with a deep, respectful tone. “I know the timing is difficult, Your Grace, but I assure you that the North stands ready to honor this alliance and to aid in the coming war. The wedding will only solidify our loyalty to your cause.”

Rhaenyra regarded him with a measured look. Despite her loss, she remained sharp and resolute. “You’ve proven yourself a true ally, Lord Stark. Your father’s oath is strong, but your personal commitment has only strengthened it.”

Cregan nodded, his grey eyes meeting the queen’s. “The North does not forget its oaths, Your Grace. We will fight alongside you.”

The queen turned to her council. “We will organize the wedding as swiftly as possible. Winterfell must see their lord married before the battle begins, and our enemies must witness the unity between the North and the Targaryens.”

The decision to hold the wedding in Winterfell surprised many. Dragonstone had seemed the obvious choice, closer to the center of conflict, but Cregan insisted that the North needed to see the union firsthand, to feel the strength of their lord’s bond with House Targaryen. Rhaenyra agreed, though it meant sending you away, far from Dragonstone, just as the war was brewing.

Preparations for the journey north began at once. You had expected a grand procession, but the looming war meant the wedding would be swift and without the usual fanfare. A small retinue traveled ahead of you and Jace to Winterfell, alongside Cregan, who had gone ahead to prepare for the wedding. Meanwhile, your mother and the rest of her forces remained focused on preparing for the battles to come.

Winterfell loomed on the horizon, its towering grey walls shrouded in mist and snow. The journey had been long, but the sight of the Stark stronghold filled you with a strange sense of anticipation. This was the heart of the North, the seat of the man who would be your husband. As you entered the gates, the people of Winterfell gathered to greet their lord’s bride. There were no extravagant festivities—just the solemn acknowledgment of the importance of this union.

The cold winds bit at your skin as you dismounted, but the warmth of the great hall beckoned. Cregan was waiting inside, standing beside his sister, Lady Sara Snow, who had taken on the task of preparing Winterfell for the arrival of her brother’s bride. The hall was austere but grand in its simplicity, the smell of burning wood and pine filling the air.

When you saw Cregan, his eyes met yours with that same steady intensity you had come to rely on. There was no need for words—his presence was enough to reassure you. He approached, his fur-lined cloak brushing the stone floor, and took your hand.

“Welcome to Winterfell, Princess,” Cregan said, his voice a deep rumble that echoed in the hall.

“Thank you, Lord Stark,” you replied, your voice softer but no less certain.

The wedding was held in the Godswood, beneath the ancient weirwood tree, its red leaves stark against the snow-covered ground. The ceremony was simple, as was the northern way, but powerful in its meaning. You and Cregan exchanged vows before the old gods, your hands bound together with a strip of cloth as a symbol of your union. The cold air bit at your skin, but the warmth of Cregan’s hand in yours kept you steady. This was not the grand spectacle expected in King’s Landing or Dragonstone, but it felt right, grounded in the traditions of the North.

As you spoke your vows, you felt the weight of the moment—not just the personal bond you were forging with Cregan, but the political alliance this marriage represented. The North and House Targaryen were now bound by blood and honor.

After the ceremony, you returned to the great hall for a modest feast. The lords of the North, gathered for the wedding, spoke of war and loyalty. Cregan, ever the leader, reassured them of his commitment to Queen Rhaenyra’s cause.

“The North will not forget its promises,” Cregan said, raising his cup. “We stand with the true queen, and with the strength of our alliance, we will see her seated upon the Iron Throne.”

The men cheered, their voices echoing through the stone walls of Winterfell. You felt a surge of pride as you looked at your husband, now bound to you in both marriage and war.

Later, as the fires burned low and the hall emptied, you stood with Cregan by one of the tall windows, gazing out at the snow-covered courtyard.

“The North is ready,” Cregan said quietly, his breath visible in the cold air. “When the time comes, we will march south.”

“And I will be by your side,” you replied firmly, meeting his gaze.

Cregan’s hand tightened around yours, but he shook his head. “I need you to remain here.”

You scoffed and pulled your hand away, narrowing your eyes at him. “No, I will do no such thing.”

His voice softened as he reached for you again. “Princess, please—”

“I’ve been married to you for less than a day, and you’re already trying to order me around?” You glared at him, your voice sharp. “I am fire and blood. I have a dragon. I will help my mother defend her birthright.”

Cregan sighed, his expression conflicted, but after a pause, he nodded. He spoke carefully, choosing his words. “I do not mean to control you. I know you are capable, fierce, and brave. I only wish to protect you. As long as you allow me by your side, to fulfill my duty as your husband, then I will be content.”

Your face softened at his words. After a moment, you leaned in and kissed his cheek gently. “Very well, my lord. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Cregan’s relief was palpable as he pulled you into a warm embrace. Together, you would face the war ahead, united in fire and blood.

[navybrat817]

A Hero's Reward

Pairing: Dark!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky is a hero and every hero deserves a reward.

Word Count: Almost 500

Warnings: Implied NONCON/DUBCON, kidnapping, dark Avengers, possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: The Basement Spouses Writing Challenge Week 5! Character: Bucky Barnes. Length: 200-500 words. Prompt: "Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me." ❤️ @krirebr , thank you for chatting me about this and everyone should check out What You Can Do For Your Country. Written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Heroes were meant to make the world a better place. They exemplified courage, resilience, and determination while serving as living embodiments of values and ideals that many admired. They offered protection and safety. And you were lucky enough to live in a time with The Avengers, the self-proclaimed world's mightiest heroes who saved the Earth time and time again.

But no one liked to talk about the burden placed on their shoulders. Or that they had their own needs outside of the fight. So what did the heroes take for their reward? Whatever they wanted.

Bucky Barnes, also known as The Winter Soldier, only wanted one thing.

You.

“Look at me,” he ordered above a whisper.

You brushed a tear away as you lifted your gaze and moved back to the corner of your bed to cower. The cell Tony made was comfortable enough, but the massive size and aura of Bucky made it seem small and dark. It would never be your home. They took you from it the moment the Soldier decided he wanted you as his personal doll. You were told it was an honor and a privilege.

The same thing they told the occupants in the other cells, each one a reward chosen by the various team members.

“Bucky,” you said, your voice hoarse from your earlier screams. You managed to break free from your cell earlier that day, but the relief was temporary since you were quickly caught and dragged back. “I just want to go home, Sir. Please.”

Bucky observed you as he walked toward the bed, his icy blue eyes not leaving your trembling form for a second. “This place is only temporary. Steve and I will move you and his girl into our new home once it's ready,” he told you, brushing his metal hand along your cheek as you tried not to flinch. “Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”

“Yes,” you answered, trying to block out the memory.

You fought him. Well, you tried to. He quickly proved why he was a hero in the physical sense when he overpowered you. He then proved why he was your villain when he split you open with his cock.

“Yet you still tried to run,” he said, his voice laced with hurt and anger. “Wherever you go and whatever you do, all you will feel is me.”

A shiver of fear and anticipation ran down your spine as he straightened up and unbuckled his belt. You knew what was coming, but it didn't make it any easier. The worst part deep down was how much you liked him owning you. That was why you had to get away.

But he would never let you go.

“So let me remind you how good it feels when I'm inside you,” he said, tugging the sheet away when you tried to cover yourself. “And let's see you try and run from me by the time I'm done with you.”

He can keep me. That's fine! Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[juletheghoul]

Let Me Follow (Part 7)

AN: Ooop. I haven't updated this in a year and I feel terrible, I am trying to go through all of the unfinished fics I have, and update one every week. (dream big Jules) Hopefully get through all of the things I have in my head. Hopefully it's been worth the wait! I've done my best to edit this myself, but it hasn't been beta'd. Enjoy! xo 🩷

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.8K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) ANGST, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, post-apocalyptic world, Joels injury / ptsd / nightmare

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Series Masterlist

He’s gone when you wake up. Both of them are, they’re gone most of the day but it makes sense. You chalk it up to Joel catching up with his brother and Ellie taking advantage of the safety of this place. You, in turn, find yourself almost haunting the house Maria and Tommy had put you up in. The time spent in the trailer, although quiet for the most part, was also wrapped up in the web of anxiety. Every second spent there was corrupted with fear of someone finding it, always the danger of infected wandering into the woods and surprising you when you’d go scavenging, and in comparison to that, this felt peaceful. 

This house gave you a chance to rest, to nap and enjoy the safety of the walls surrounding you, surrounding the town itself. Even when you got hungry, it was only a matter of making your way down the street to the cafeteria. People looked at you with curiosity, but didn’t pry, which only inspired intense gratitude. 

The whole day was a much needed respite from the worry and anxiety, until Ellie stormed into the house to find you reading an old novel on the sofa late in the evening. Anger burning on her face and it seemed strange to be so angry in a place like this. 

“What happened?” The adrenaline shoots up, the familiarity of it is so depressing, it seems your body is always ready to feel this way. 

“He’s leaving me.” She runs up the stairs and you find yourself running up after her, the door to the bedroom she’d claimed all but shut in your face before you could follow her inside. 

“Ellie? Can I come in?” You knock, hoping she’ll elaborate, “Ellie?”

“Whatever.” She calls out and you follow her inside, finding her sitting on a dusty bay window. 

“What happened?” Your heart races but you do your best to control your breathing. 

“He’s leaving me,” she sighs, picking up what looks to be someone's journal, “I heard him tell Tommy, that he has to leave me.” You frown at her. Joel hadn’t exactly been the cuddly type but he did care about Ellie, that had been obvious to you. “Maria told me something about him, something that makes sense-” 

“I wouldn’t listen to what Maria has to say about Joel, it seems to me she’s been listening to Tommy say some not-so-nice things about his brother.” Annoyance burns brightly in your gut that she’d dare poison Ellie against the man that had been keeping her safe. 

“No–I didn’t let her talk shit, I told her where to fucking go about that but–” A soft tap on the door pulls you out of the argument, Joel’s voice coming through before he opens the door. 

The familiar ‘Joel-frown’ is back in place as his gaze shifts from Ellie, to you, and back to her again.

“Listen-” He starts, but she doesn’t let him get very far.

“Why are you here?” The anger still burns on her face, but you know what’s really there. Sadness, fear, disappointment, you know because you’ve felt it all before.

“I came here to talk to you, both of you.”

“No, why are you still here? If you’re gonna ditch us then ditch us.” her eyes cast down as she speaks, looking without really seeing the journal in her hands. You see him let out a heavy sigh, resignation taking over. 

“What exactly did you hear?”

“‘I have to leave her, you have to take her’,” your eyebrows must have raised up into your hairline, Joel leaving Ellie had never crossed your mind, “You know I stuck up for you today because I thought-” She bit her lip, cutting off her own words.

“I made this decision for your own good. You’ll be way better off with Tommy, he knows the area better than I do-” He was floundering and it was as though you were listening to a stranger, his whole demeanour completely different from last night. 

“Do you give a shit about me or not?” Her voice rose, and your heart broke for her.

“Of course I do.” 

“Then what are you so afraid of? I’m not her, you know? Maria told me about Sarah-”

“Don’t.” The change in him was chilling, “Don’t say another word.” Seeing his eyes shift, the whole of him as cold as ice. 

“I’m sorry about your daughter, Joel, but I have lost people too.” And there it was. 

He’d had a daughter, and he’d lost her. This was it, the missing piece. It made so much sense, the cloud that followed him around, the loss that poisoned him to the world. It wasn’t just the terrible, awful, practically unbearable state of the world, it was his loss. 

“You have no idea what loss is.” His eyes hardened even more, and you understood why he would be upset. The loss of a child would definitely make anyone lose their minds, but Ellie wasn’t wrong. Everyone in this world knows what loss is.

“Everybody I have cared for has either died or left me. Everybody, fucking except for you!” She pushes him, her anger and hurt getting the best of her and you can’t help but move from your place on the couch to comfort her. “So don't tell me that I'd be safer with somebody else because the truth is I would just be more scared.” Your hand goes to her shoulder, letting her know you’re there for her. 

“You’re right. You aren’t my daughter, and I sure as hell ain’t your dad. Now come dawn, you and I go our separate ways-” Your hand flashes up without your permission, and cracks him clean across the face. It was too much for you to bear. 

“Enough! I am so sick and tired of this, and I am through with letting you act this way. You can’t keep living your life like this, Joel. Head down, barreling through like a juggernaut, cutting through everyone and everything, completely closed off to the world.” The hurt was sharp in your voice- “I can’t even begin to imagine how much losing your daughter must have hurt you, I wish it had never happened. I cannot take it away from you, neither of us can but we don’t deserve for you to treat us this way. Losing her doesn’t mean you can throw Ellie away.” His eyes flashed with something, a hurt so deep it was part of him, “Tomorrow, we’re going–whether it’s with you, or Tommy is up to you.” You turned from him then, gathering Ellie into your arms. You heard the door click, and then you and Ellie were alone. 

-

You spent the night with Ellie.

A soft knock sounded as you gathered the few things you had to take with you, both of you. Ellie opened the door to a very resigned Tommy standing at the door. 

“Y’all ready?” He spoke to both of you, the look on your face leaving no doubt as to whether Ellie would go alone or not.

“Yes, we’re good to go,” you reply and he nods once before leading the way out, “Come on Ellie.” You don’t look at the room across the hall, even as the outline of the door burns bright in your peripheral. That it was closed and he was probably asleep inside only filled your stomach with rocks, so you keep your eyes forward and ignore the feeling.

The morning is crisp enough to see your breath and it wreaths around your head like a halo as you all make your way towards the barn. Your anger with Joel is a simmering pot on the back burner, and that’s where it has to stay, there’s too much to focus on with Ellie to give it any attention. Tommy leads the way, bundled up with a rifle on his back and the anger you’re trying to tamp down finds its bullseye.

“How much shit did you talk about Joel, Tommy? Be honest.” He turns, his brow furrowed, “Must have been a lot, with the way Maria was eyeing him.”

“Yeah, not to mention giving me some bullshit warning about him not being who I thought he was.” Ellie chimes in, he lets out a deep sigh.

“You don’t understand, we did terrible things-“

“Yes, both of you, and you got to explain yourself. You’re letting your grievances with your brother colour the way people in this town view him. If he stays here, you’ve just made his life harder when you both did the same shit.” You round the corner, ducking into the barn to find the man you’re discussing, loading the horse's saddle with what looked to be supplies. You’re angry at him, at the cruel words he threw at Ellie, at the thought that after all of your confessions he might have let you go. It’s hard not to feel relief that he’s here though, ready to follow her, ready to follow you. 

“You came here to say goodbye or something?” Ellie’s voice is neutral, but the hurt simmers under the surface. 

“No, I came here to steal one of these horses.” He kicks at the ground, nervous.

“I woulda gave you one.” Tommy sighs, his frown still in place but now directed at Joel.

“I know. Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess you deserve a choice. I still think you’d be better off with Tommy-“

“Let’s go.” She tosses her bag at him. Your lip curls without your permission, but you keep it to yourself.

“Okay.” He grunts out the word, but you can see he’s just as affected as you are. He turns, and speaks to Tommy while you and Ellie lead the horses out, letting them have a moment. 

“You okay?” Ellie’s eyes find yours at the sound of your words, and for a moment you see her age and it breaks your heart. Her eyes are wide, dark shadows underneath them, all of the stress and the weight of her lot in this life painted across her face, and still she smiles. 

“Fuck yeah, all good.” 

God, she’s just a kid. 

“Let’s get going.” Joel comes out, Tommy’s rifle on his back and his eyes are wild, darting between you and Ellie. His words still ring out in your ears, but so does the knowledge of his loss. It’s the Rosetta Stone, the why of all of his anger and hurt and reluctance to open up to anyone and anything coming into focus. 

There are two horses, and Ellie claims one right away, leaving you to share with Joel. He climbs up and swings his leg around, then holds out his hand to help you climb on, and wordlessly you take it. The horse is calm underneath you, for which you are grateful, even when you climb up, much less graceful than Joel and sit tucked into his back. 

The anger in you still burns bright. Too bright to say anything to him just yet, so you let it wash over you. Ignore the happy chant to have him there, to have his familiar, safe shape solid in front of you, and focus on not spooking the animal beneath you. 

Hours pass with small talk between Ellie and Joel, and silence from you. He doesn’t press, but his voice sounds lighter than it ever has with her. You let them have this conversation and bonding and you keep your mouth shut. He tests the waters though, your arms wrap around his waist, and every so often you feel him squeeze your hand or your knee. A silent olive branch, a request for connection and as much as you try to hold out and ignore him, punish him for his cruelty, you cannot help but give in. You press your lips to the little bit of skin exposed at the back of his neck. You can feel the way he melts, and part of you feels guilty for denying him for so long, but then his words come back and so does the anger. 

Ellie has gone ahead, just a little bit, close enough that he can keep an eye on her, but far enough away that he tries his luck with words. 

“It was bad wasn’t it?” He speaks over his shoulder, his words heavy with resignation.

“Real bad.”

He sighs, but says nothing else. You don’t expect an apology, and you don’t get one. It’s there though, the remorse, in his voice, threaded through the soft words and explanations he gives Ellie as the day goes by. He speaks to her of his life before, and it’s a marvel to hear him speak so much, he used to be a contractor. The shape of the word in your mouth feels familiar, one of those words adults used to say but there’s no reference for it in your memory. She is happy, that is all that matters.

When you stop to camp, it’s in a densely populated forest, eerily quiet but good enough. The land is far enough away from any QZ to be free of infected, but they aren’t the biggest worry. He sets up camp, a couple of sleeping bags all piled together.

“Sleep, both of you, I’ll take first watch.” It doesn’t take much convincing on your part, and for once, Ellie doesn’t grumble, she yawns hard enough to tremble and gets into the sleeping bag without comment. You want to give him something, a promise that you’ll discuss what you both know you need to discuss but he shakes his head when your eyes meet. “Sleep, Sunny, you need your rest.”

You nod, and sleep claims you, quick as falling.

You wake with a gasp. 

“You’re okay.” He’s sitting on a fallen log, watching the surrounding darkness. Full consciousness creeps in, and awareness calms the anxiety of whatever nightmare that had spilled over. Even the horses are calm, no immediate danger threatening, but there’s no way you’re going back to sleep. 

“I’m up now. Here, give me the gun, you should get some shut-eye.” You stretch for a moment, before getting up. At this point, he knows you better than to argue, and so as much as he wants to keep watch, he gets up with a groan, and climbs into the sleeping bag still permeated with your body heat. The brief spark of warmth and comfort that was born of your new found intimacy with him, although still there, is obscured by the things you know you need to discuss, but it won’t be tonight. He knows it too, and so you keep watch, and when the morning comes, you all set out again. 

-

Days pass, and you travel in peace. The days are cold but clear, and he surprises you even more. He teaches Ellie to shoot, instructs her on how to load and reload the rifle, how to aim and even lets her keep a pistol and you can see the father so clearly in him. He notices your quiet withdrawal, and he lets you have your silence, but it doesn’t last.

Three nights into your trek, he finally breaks the silence. 

You feel him slip into the sleeping bag behind you, the night is colder than you expected and his warmth is welcome, even if your heart is still hurt. You’d found a small copse of trees, hidden enough that you could all sleep relatively calmly.

“Sunny.” It’s just above a whisper,  “How long you gonna punish me?” His breath tickles the little hairs at the back of your neck, raising goosebumps in its wake. You sigh.

“I’m not punishing you Joel.” His hand slips around your waist.

“You’re angry at me, I can feel it.” He presses his lips to the skin just below your ear, soft and sweet and your eyes close at the feel of it, you turn towards him. 

“I’m hurt,” he pulls you close enough to tangle his legs with yours, “Not just for what you said to Ellie, but for what happened to you.” You felt the clench in his jaw, felt how his body tensed. “I’m not trying to pry into your past Joel, I don’t want to open old wounds and make you relive anything, but I’ve been with the two of you long enough to see the bond. That girl-” you gestured to Ellie’s sleeping form near the horses, “-sees you as a father. You’re all she has, and you were ready to drop her.” 

“I know.” He pressed his forehead to yours, the tension going out of him like a balloon deflating. “It’s why I didn’t think I could do this, I am scared that I won’t be able to protect her, if she got hurt on my watch I couldn’t forgive myself.” All of a sudden you felt stupid, his anger and lashing out at her was a way to protect her, it didn’t excuse it, but it definitely explained it. “I don’t think she heard my whole conversation with Tommy, I was tellin’ him how scared I am.” 

“She needs you around, she needs to know you aren’t going to abandon her.” You can’t help but bring your hands to his face, comfort him. “We need you, I need you, I don’t want you to leave me behind either.” The little part of yourself that you’d been stomping down reared its head. “I’m sorry I slapped you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He shakes his head, dismissing your apology. 

“I won’t leave you behind. I meant it when I said I needed you to be patient with me.” He presses his lips to your hand, then to your lips, an apology and a promise and you clutch to it, despite the fear that permeates every aspect of the world. You don’t say anything more, trusting that when he's ready, he’ll tell you about his loss.

-

The university is a massive, rundown building, eerily quiet, without many signs of life. 

“No fireflies.” Ellie points out when you stop just in front of an overturned car.

“Probably in the middle, safer.” Joel leads the way, and the three of you continue throughout the grounds. He answers Ellie’s questions about University life, about anything and everything she can think of while you focus on your surroundings. The quiet irks you.

Monkeys roam the campus the closer you get to the building, and she’s excited to see them, you’re a little more wary but they scatter at the sound of you approaching.

“Lookit.” He points to a sign, a bright firefly symbol spray-painted onto it.

“Here we go.” She sounds a lot braver than she looks, her expression matches yours. This whole place was creepy, and your stomach roiled the closer you got to the entrance of the building. The sound of the horses' hooves clicking onto the pavement echo around you as you approach, guard houses sit unmanned just outside the door, and your stomach drops further. 

“Guard houses.” Joel voices your thoughts. 

“No guards.” You reply, and the mood sours further. “Let’s tie the horses, and continue on foot.” You gesture to a tree and they both nod in agreement. With them taken care of, you make your way inside. 

“Gun?” Ellie looks to Joel, and he nods, she takes out the pistol he’d trusted her with, his rifle at the ready and you follow close behind him, no weapon, but eyes sharp.

The inside is abandoned, but there is a mess of tables, discarded equipment and supplies left behind. 

“There were definitely doctors here.” She rifles through a stack of old gauze, gloves and other things littering the tables, pulling a list from under an empty box.

“This is a packing list,” Joel takes the list from her, “Something you make before moving.” There’s a distinct lack of dust and dirt blown in on the mess left behind you cannot help but focus on.

“Looks like they just left-” Something crashes above, movement in one of the higher floors interrupting your sentence, “maybe not all of them.” You move as one, slowly and quietly following the source of the noise, your heart races, scared of who or what you might find here. Joel leads the way, his rifle at the ready, Ellie brings up the rear, gun in her hands and pointed down like he’d taught her. The place looks more like an abandoned hospital than a school. There are carts knocked over, hospital beds and IV bags still hooked up to the poles littering the hallways. 

He counts down silently, hand just hovering over the door containing the source, and then opens it. A monkey shrieks, and seeing you jumps out the open window. You let out a heavy breath. 

“Well, at least it ain’t clickers.” Joel’s tone is as relieved as you feel. 

“Yeah, no fireflies either. Maybe in all that research they turned into fucking monkeys!” He frowns at her, there’s a disappointment heavy in the air. So much travelling, just to come up empty. There’s a giant map in the middle of the room though. You make your way over to it, there are different colour pins all leading up to one place, Salt Lake City, Utah.

“That’s where they went?” She’s staring at the map beside you. 

“All the pins lead there.” You press your finger to the spot on the map, Joel is beside you, all three of you studying it. 

“Maybe they were getting ahead of the weather? Better facilities? I don’t know.” He frowns, letting out a breath but you hear it, people talking outside the window. You shush them, gesturing to the window but they hear it now too. Your heart jackhammers in your chest, any and all peace you’d found from finding this place empty is gone. 

Quietly you all move closer and peek out the window, and see four men walking past, they hold crowbars, and baseball bats and it’s obvious they’re raiders. 

“Out the back.” Joel whispers, and then the three of you take off. Within a few tense minutes, you’re all back outside, ducking behind piled up sandbags to make sure you don’t encounter anyone. With the coast clear, you all run towards the horses. Ellie climbs up onto hers, and you climb onto the one you share with Joel while he unties them. 

“Joel!” Ellie screams, one man has followed, baseball bat high in the air but Joel turns in time and ducks out of the way, the bat swings hard, hitting the tree and shatters. Ellie holds up her arm, aiming the gun but they move too erratically. 

“Wait Ellie! You might shoot Joel–” She puts it down, he doesn’t need help, they grapple and slam against the tree but then Joel has wrapped his arm around the man's neck, and with a sickening crunch, he falls. When Joel turns, your stomach drops. 

He looks down, and the butt of the broken bat is sticking out of his lower abdomen. He takes a deep breath, and pulls it out and a wave of nausea hits you to see at least three inches of wood come out, his blood pulsing between his fingers. 

“Joel–get on the horse!” You scream out to him, seeing the others spotting you and running full speed. He struggles, but climbs up with a pained yell, swinging his leg over and managing to get in front of you. 

“Get back!” Ellie follows behind, shooting at them when they get too close, with the frosty wind whipping at your face you get away. The horses gallop across the grounds and away, your grip on Joel is iron.

You know that going so fast is only hurting him but you have to get far enough away that they won’t follow. 

“They don’t seem to be following us, I think we’re safe.” Ellie calls out behind you and you’re glad she’s keeping an eye on your back, because you cannot focus on anything other than Joel’s weakening grip on the reins. 

“Joely, baby you have to hold on, please–” He teeters, swaying like a boat in choppy waters and you feel the way he cannot hold himself up anymore. “Joel-Joel!” He topples off the horse and into a pile of snow despite your best efforts, he's so pale you can barely contain the tears that flow freely down your face. “Joel, please, please wake up, we need you to wake up.” You slap at his face, but he doesn’t stir. Ellie is off her horse and kneeling beside you, trying to aid in waking him but she’s as unsuccessful as you are. She presses his hands as well as hers to where the blood pulses out of him slowly. 

“Joel, open your eyes.” You stare at him while she speaks, pressing your hand to his face, “I can’t fucking do this without you, I don’t know where the fuck I’m going, or what the fuck I’m going to do, we need you Joel please, get up.” Tears stream down her face and it hits you then. You’ve cursed him, this is what comes from loving another person. 

There’s no time, you have to move him. 

“Let’s get him somewhere safe, Ellie, one of those houses.” You gesture to a residential area not far from where he fell. There’s no way you can carry him, instead you look for something to put him on that you can drag like a sled. You send Ellie to look, warning her to be careful and to keep her gun out and she comes back with a wide mat, almost like a big dog bed and it’s perfect. You shuffle him onto it, and tie the mat to the back of one of the horses, pulling him towards one of the houses. 

It takes so long to get him into the basement. By the time you’ve piled a stained mattress and musty blankets and laid him on it, your skin is slick with frozen sweat, your breath comes out in pants, exhausted with the effort. There had been an old towel in one of the bathrooms of the house, Ellie had grabbed it while you wrestled him to where he lay. Once settled, you ripped it up, and moved his shirt to press it to the wound, barely looking at it. You had to stop the bleeding, if he kept bleeding he’d die. 

“What are we going to do?” She watches, terrified. 

“I don’t know.” You want to comfort her, but you cannot stop swallowing the lump in your throat. You both stay quiet for a while after that, focused on his breathing. 

It’s because I love him

The thought squeezes your heart like a vice, the curse of you fills your head, overtaking every thought. This is what happens when you love another person, the black hole has taken him just like it took your parents, just like it took Johnny and there is nothing to be gained but misery and heartache. The black pit of your love is full of emptiness and all you’d done was sentence him to death. You should have just let them leave, given them your supplies and stayed in your trailer. 

Tears stream steadily down your face, hoping against hope that he’ll wake up, that the wound will close, that nothing inside had been too badly damaged. You hoped you’d wake up back in that bed in Jackson, that this was all just some horrible nightmare and that he’d be there, rubbing your back. You didn’t wake up though, and he lay there motionless while you cried, breathing shallow enough to fill your stomach with nothing but dread and nausea and regret and every other horrible thing you’ve felt since this world went to shit. 

You move the towel after a while, to see how bad the damage actually is and your body tenses, it’s angry and red and still blood pulses out, his skin shredded where the sharp wood had pierced him.

“We need to close it, we should see if we can find a needle and thread.” You speak to her, but she watches him, his eyes are open, and there is nothing but naked fear in them. He groans and grabs at your arm hard enough to bruise when you press the towel back to the wound. 

“Go.” He grits it out, at both of you. She puts her hands on yours, helping to staunch the blood. “Go, leave, take the gun.” He repeats it. 

“Shut up, shut the fuck up Joel!” She all but screams at him but he grabs her by the jacket, pulling her close. 

“You go.” He doesn’t relent, “You go. You go north, go to tommy.” He shivers, speaking the words clearly and when he pushes her back, she stumbles, staring at him in disbelief. His eyes find yours, and he repeats himself. “Leave.” He does not expect to survive, and all at once you are angry with him, angry with yourself for ever having opened your heart, angry at the world for your lot in life. His eyes find yours then, tears slowly streaming from them, the same anger burning in your chest shining out through his eyes. 

You wipe at your eyes, and rise. Leaving him there, as you make your way up the stairs, and out of the basement. 

She catches up to you in the kitchen. 

“Are we really leaving him?” 

“No. I’m looking for something to stitch him up, but if you want to go find Tommy I won’t stop you, you can shoot, and he’s taught you how to keep watch and find safe places to sleep. You can take all of the supplies–” You open cupboards, pulling them off the hinges in your haste and spilling drawers in the pursuit of something, anything to help him. 

“I’m not leaving either.” She moves, and helps you search. 

—

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