#anyways. this live was something...and that man's low speaking voice...

[traumainpyjamas]

JOHNNY \\ [231016] JOHNNY NCT 127 WEVERSE LIVE

[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.

[fairsweetlonging]

( ˚❀˳ ) ERROR_FILE_CORRUPT || shen qingqiu (shen yuan) & yue qingyuan

* . ⊹ synopsis. shen qingqui has not been giving the system satisfactory results. it decides to take matters into its own hands. yue qingyuan tries to persuade it otherwise.

notes: @artsarasp this is all your fault

word count: 774

based on this post and this amazing art

The afternoon sunlight trickles ember and gold through the latticed window, soft and bright and warm as it fills the room. In the stillness between them, it feels distant, wavering, like still water disturbed somewhere below the surface where he cannot see.

Hazy steam curls from two teacups set on the low table, pale porcelain gleaming faintly against the dark grain of the wood. It’s an old blend, something light. A favorite. He doesn’t know why that matters. Maybe because this one has never been rejected. Maybe because he’s grasping for something that is no longer there.

On the other side, Shen Qingqiu sits unnervingly still, as if his body has forgotten how to breathe, how to live, his back straight but rigid, like a figure carved from stone rather than a man of flesh and blood. 

When he reaches for the tea, his fingers move with a strange, stilted motion, like a doll whose joints have rusted with disuse, or the rotten wood of a foundation that shakes the house with every gust of wind, about to collapse. As he leans forward, his robes don’t move along; not even a hair falls out of place. 

There is something profoundly wrong about him, as if he’s not even actually there. 

Yet it follows their rituals, to perfection, moving through the steps of their routine as if they were its own; slow sips, remaining silent as they drink, no idle talk, leaving the only sound to be the soft clack of porcelain on wood. 

Yue Qingyuan drinks faster than he would any other time, faster, even, than is proper. It burns the roof of his mouth. There is no need for formalities, not here, not for that thing. 

It is the same face, the same gentle slope of his nose, the curve of his mouth, the raven black hair that lies gracefully along his shoulders, but the eyes… Xiao Jiu’s eyes are blue, all of it, sickly, devoid of life; when he stares into that hollow nothingness, it is almost as if something is staring back at him. 

Yue Qingyuan puts down his cup. His voice is deceptively calm. 

"What do you want."

Something flares in Xiao Jiu’s eyes at the question, almost as if it’s been waiting for this.

When he answers it is not in words, but in a cacophony of metallic hollow sounds that reverberate through the back of his mind.

【 this system does not ‘want’ for anything. this system is tasked with helping user002 create a good story 】

It doesn’t even bother opening Xiao Jiu’s mouth as it speaks, keeping that same, placid smile on his face. Somewhere, Yue Qingyuan is glad for its lack of trying—it never seems able to match its movements to the words quite right.

【 your interference caused a plot-divergence too difficult for him to fix. so this system has taken over 】

It’s said that before, when they first caught on, back then, when they thought it was only a matter of time before they had driven the creature out. User. Plotlines. Story. Protagonist. He interfered with something, poked the sleeping bear where he should have let it lay. He doesn’t know when. He doesn’t even know what he did.

But Shen Qingqiu cannot be the only one, not with how the system speaks about him; the number two insinuates the existence of a user one, like how nine insinuates there is a seven. 

Yue Qingyuan isn’t sure he wants to know whether user two has come with user one, or after him.

Despite his diligent studies, his upbringing to become the future sect leader, Yue Qingyuan isn’t that well read, not in these kinds of stories, anyway—in stories with protagonists and heroes and villains, the kinds that have overarching themes and conflicts. 

But he knows that though audiences are fickle, they are also easily entertained. After all: the worst crime of a character is not his flaws, it’s being boring. He's heard Shang Qinghua speak of it often enough, how audiences care very little for the quality, but will sing the praises of any story that manages to keep their attention. 

Perhaps there is a different way to keep their invisible audience entertained.

"Does… does it have to be Xiao Jiu?" His fingers curl to fists beneath the cover of his wide sleeves, grasping the fabric until his knuckles turn white. Please. Please, just this once, let him do something right. "Could someone else create this story?"

The system blinks. 

【 someone like –yue qingyuan–? 】

He nods.

【 calculating… 】

Xiao Jiu shakes his head.

【 perhaps the next story… 】

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

A Father’s Love?

Sam Winchester & daughter!reader, Dean Winchester & niece!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: You (9-10) are left alone with your dad, who currently is missing his soul, and it doesn’t go well

Update: part 2 is here

“Uncle De, please don’t go.” Your voice was low as you tried to keep your dad—who was in the bathroom—from hearing. “I-I don’t wanna be alone with him.”

Dean felt awful for leaving you like this, but he had no choice. You hadn’t been comfortable with Sam since the moment you’d found out he was back—the same time Dean did. You’d been living with Dean, Lisa, and Ben, and when Sam revealed that he’d been back all along, you instantly didn’t trust him. Dean had been angry, sure, but somehow he just hadn’t seen what you had—that your dad wasn’t really himself.

Of course, eventually the three of you—including Sam, who hadn’t been sure what was wrong with him—discovered the truth: he was soulless. As soon as Dean find out, he felt horrible for not understanding your hesitance before. Now that he knew, he tried to avoid leaving you alone with Sam whenever possible, especially since he didn’t really trust Sam without a soul.

But sometimes it was unavoidable.

“Kiddo, you know I don’t have a choice,” Dean said.

“I don’t like it here with him,” you insisted, refusing to let go of Dean’s sleeve. “He-he’s like daddy’s evil twin or something.”

Dean swallowed. “Sweetheart, he’s not evil, ok? He’s just a little weird right now.”

“Daddy’s weird,” you argued. “This guy is bad.”

Dean ran a hand over his face.

“Baby, please. You know I have to go. He’s gonna be good, I promise, and soon enough he’s gonna be back to regular-old dad, I swear.”

Dean left without another word, and the silence that hung in the motel room was deafening.

“Dean left?” Sam asked as he exited the bathroom. You ignored his question—he didn’t actually care, after all—and you went to sit on your bed. You could feel Sam’s eyes on you as you went. The motel stayed the worst kind of silence as you pretended to read while Sam just stared at you.

“What do you want?” You demanded finally, dropping the book. Your voice was nowhere near as firm as you wanted it to be.

“You hate me.” It wasn’t a question.

“You hated me first.” Unlike Sam, you couldn’t look at him while you accused him. Even without looking at the shell that used to be your dad, you could feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes as you waited for him to speak.

“I don’t hate you,” he huffed. “I mean, I don’t particularly care about you, but I don’t hate you.”

Somehow, apathy was even worse.

“Just leave me alone,” you mumbled. You shouldn’t have been surprised when Sam shrugged and obeyed. You felt your eyes drifting to him as he pulled a beer from the fridge and took it to his bed. His eyes caught yours and he frowned.

“What? You said leave you alone.”

“Dad wouldn’t have listened,” you mumbled, but Sam heard you anyway.

“Well, I’m not your dad,” Sam shrugged. “I’m not Sam, not anymore.”

“Ok.” You turned to face away from him. “Now I mean it. Leave me be.”

But Sam was suddenly intrigued, and he ignored your request.

“You and Dean wanted me to stop pretending to be him. This is just me not pretending.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like you,” you said, your eyes downcast.

“Exactly, and I don’t like you either. I mean, you’re kind of a brat.”

“I told you to leave me alone,” you said, finally looking up.

“You beg Dean to keep you with him all the time like I’m gonna hurt you or something, it’s pathetic.” Sam seemed to be getting a real kick out of finally saying all that he’d been thinking over the past few weeks.

“I said leave me alone!” You yelled at him, but he didn’t listen.

“I mean, I remember caring about you when I was that other guy, I just…I just can’t remember why.”

“Go away! Leave me be!” You were on your feet now, shoving and pushing at Sam, but the giant man didn’t even flinch.

“I mean your just a little pest!”

“Stop it! Just go away!”

Crying, overwhelmed, and so unbelievably hurt, you started to slap at the guy who used to be your dad, smacking his neck, his face, whatever you could reach. Suddenly, Sam wasn’t having so much fun anymore.

“Hey!” Though your slaps had little effect on him, one harsh blow from Sam had you flat on your back, dazed and breathing hard. You could still feel the impact of his palm against your cheek, and you couldn’t scramble away from him fast enough.

“If you’re gonna give it out, you should be prepared to take it,” Sam muttered gruffly.

You were on your feet in an instant, and you were out the door before you’d even made the decision to leave.

“Hey!” You could hear your dad—no, not your dad—following after you, and you barely made it five steps out of the room before his arms were around you and dragging you back in.

“Stop it!” You were crying now, and you couldn’t remember when you’d started. “Let me go!”

“If I lose you, Dean’s never gonna help me,” Sam grunted, shoving you back into the room and closing the door behind him. “So how about we all just calm down here.” It wasn’t a request; it was a command. “You don’t hit me, I won’t hit you.”

That would’ve sounded reasonable enough, if not for one thing—your desperate smacks to his skin had done nothing to him, they hadn’t even hurt, but you could already feel the side of your face swelling where he’d hit you. But you didn’t argue with Sam. You didn’t even speak. You just sat on your bed and turned your back on him, pulling your legs up to your chest and burying your face in your knees so you could cry in peace.

Sam left you alone for several minutes, but his sudden hand on your shoulder had you flinching back violently and scrambling away from him.

“Would you calm down?” Sam huffed as he let go. He was holding out a frozen bag of peas. “Put this on it.”

You took it hesitantly and slowly pressed the cold bag to your face.

“Look…” Sam’s hand was back on your shoulder, only now his giant fingers were right at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, and they were squeezing way too hard. “Dean would kill me if he figured out what happened, ok? And he certainly wouldn’t be helping me anymore. So maybe…maybe you just tell him you fell in the shower or something, ok?” He said it like a question, but the grip on your shoulder and the ice in his eyes told the truth; he expected you to lie to Uncle Dean, and you didn’t know what he’d do if you didn’t.

“Ok,” you whispered, and his hand was gone in an instant.

“Ok,” he said firmly.

Then he turned his back on you and left you alone to cry.

…

The swelling was down by the time Dean returned, but you’d looked in the mirror long enough to see a black and purple bruise forming along almost one whole side of your face.

You resisted the urge to run to your uncle the moment he stepped in the door—if you acted scared, he would figure it out, and Sam would be mad. Instead, you stayed where you were with your head down, your hair covering most of the bruise.

“Hey,” Dean greeted. “You guys ok?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said simply. You’d been hoping that he would lie for you, so you didn’t have to, but he seemed content to leave things quiet.

“You sure?” Dean was watching you now, noticing your uncharacteristic silence.

“I’m ok,” your voice was hoarse from crying, and Dean wasn’t fooled.

“What’s wrong?” Dean was in front of you in an instant, brushing your hair behind your ears. His hand recoiled when he saw the bruise. “What happened?”

“I—“ you looked up to face Dean, and your voice caught in your throat when you saw Sam staring daggers at you from behind your uncle’s shoulder. “I f-fell.”

“Fell?” Dean frowned.

You nodded. “In-in the shower.”

“Sam.” Dean’s voice was dangerously quiet. “Out. Now.”

“Me?” When had Sam become such a good actor? He looked as innocent as ever. “What did I do?”

Despite his acting, Dean wasn’t buying it for a minute.

“Get out! I need to talk to her alone.”

The moment Sam was out the door, Dean was tilting your chin up with a feather-light hand at your chin.

“He hit you, didn’t he.” Dean wasn’t asking.

“I fell,” you lied, the tears in your eyes giving you away.

“Don’t lie for him,” Dean pleaded. “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t kick him out,” you pleaded. “We-we have to help him get his soul back. This isn’t him, Uncle Dean.”

“I know it’s not,” Dean sighed. “But I need you to be safe.”

“I’ll be safe when my dad is back.”

…

“You stay away from her.” Dean didn’t give Sam a chance to speak when he let him back into the room.

“Fine.” Sam was done lying—it hadn’t done any good.

“And if you ever touch her again, you’re gone, understand?”

Sam didn’t look happy, but he couldn’t argue.

“I understand.”

…

You slept in Dean’s bed that night—you hadn’t shared a bed with your father since he came back soulless—and Sam went out to do whatever it was that he did while you guys slept. Apparently being soulless meant you didn’t sleep.

“Are you ok?” Dean asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

“It doesn’t hurt so bad anymore,” you mumbled. “I just…I just miss him.”

Dens pulled you into his arms as you started to cry.

“I know, sweetheart. I miss him too. We’re gonna get him back, ok? I promise.”

“Ok Uncle Dean.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[joelslastofus]

[SUMMARY: Joel acts like he doesn’t like you until he comes across your rapist.]

TW: MENTION OF RAPE. Angst

“What did he do?” His voice was low, eerie like, suddenly he looked angry as you stood still before him.

Ever since Tess had died Joel became more unbearable to deal with. The two of you had only known each other a couple months before she passed away but never got close to one another, if anything Joel acted like he didn’t like having you around. He barely held any conversations with you unless it involved a plan he needed you to be on the same page with him about. Silently he’d share food with you but that was pretty much as far as he’d go.

“Get up, we’re gonna keep moving today” Joel woke you up out of your sleep gathering his belongings as you sighed.

“I thought you said we’d stay here for two nights-“

“Plans changed. We’re leaving soon” you groaned as you got on your feet and began to pack. This journey to Marlene seemed a lot longer than you thought it would be.

“Are you sure Marlene even has what you want?” You asked with a sigh. He didn’t respond instead handing you your weapon so you could follow him out.

Walking with Joel through the woods your foot accidentally slid down a rock making you gasp loudly. Joel quickly turned with his knife ready to attack only to find you straightening your shirt.

“I slipped” he didn’t respond only looking irritated and turned back to continue walking. You didn’t understand why Joel always seemed so bothered by you, had he not promised Tess that he’d look after you, he wouldn’t have stuck around with you. Tess never shared to him the true reason why she wanted him to care for you but when you first met her you had confided in her the brutal things that you overcame. One of them being that you were held captive for a couple months by a group not far out, one of the men in their group being your rapist, you were always afraid to come across this man again. Little did Tess know, this very same man was running things alongside Marlene.

“Joel, have I done something to upset you at any point?” You asked trying to keep up with him.

“No” he responded without looking your way.

“So what’s your issue?”

“I don’t have a damn issue, now let’s keep moving” you gave up at that point not saying a word. Joel truly didn’t have a specific issue with you, he just chose to not allow himself to get close to anyone ever again, he had lost too much.

Finally making it to Marlene’s you followed behind Joel walking in. You had no idea whom Marlene was or anything about the place but being with Joel you just did as he said. Standing beside him a few feet away you were introduced to Marlene. She seemed like a woman who was strictly about business, she spoke to him of the car she had promised.

Of course, tomorrow it would be ready.

You didn’t speak during their conversation, not thinking much of anything until the door opened and a man walked in. Instantly your heart sunk, your stomach turned as the man stood by Marlene confidently before noticing you.

“This is my right hand man, he does what I say, when I say and can always be counted on” Marlene introduced the man beside her, you found yourself unable to speak. You knew who this man was, how could you not?

Edward….you’d never forget his name, one year ago this man made your life a living hell. Your throat felt like it was closing up, your heart racing-

“Look who it is” Edward grinned towards you making Marlene raise a brow at you. Joel turned to you as you looked down taking a deep breath.

“Small world” Marlene muttered but Joel noticed something off with your reaction.

“Anyways, Joel” Marlene got his attention explaining what would happen.

“Tomorrow before the evening I should have a car for you, for now you two can stay in a room I have prepped” Joel didn’t like the idea of staying an extra day but silently nodded and took the offer. Thankfully Edward and Marlene left the room before someone else led you to the room you would both stay in. Your heart felt like it would come out your chest but you couldn’t find it in you to speak. Joel walked ahead of you opening the door to the room. You stood by the door closing it behind you watching as he placed his backpack on the bed without looking back. Your body felt as if it would collapse any moment, you couldn’t stay here, you couldn’t be around Edward yet you knew you couldn’t say a thing.

That night Joel noticed you seemed a bit fidgety but he didn’t say a word. He lay back on his bed and watched as you double checked the locks on the door twice before laying down.

“You know we’re safe here right?” You looked up not noticing Joel had been watching you.

“Y-yeah” you nodded before turning over and facing the wall. That night you didn’t sleep, if anything you hoped Joel would sleep so he wouldn’t hear you crying in the middle of the night. Of course that didn’t work, at one point Joel opened his eyes thinking he was hearing something but he couldn’t make out what it was until he looked over and noticed you seemed like you were trembling. Quickly he sat up unsure of what to do, slowly he got up from the bed and noticed you were whimpering in your sleep. He didn’t know what the hell to do, he’d never seen you like this before but he knew damn well what it felt like. Delicately he placed his hand on your shoulder and tried to wake you.

“Hey” you continued to whimper but wouldn’t open your eyes. Joel cleared his throat and leaned in closer to you prepared for you to be startled.

“Hey wake up” he shook you a little harder making your eyes quickly open. You gasped unaware who was near you, unaware that you had even been dreaming, raising your hand ready to hit whoever it was Joel caught your wrist in mid air.

“Easy, honey”

You looked up at him confused, you hadn’t even realized you fell asleep now here was Joel looking down at you with concern. Once he was sure that you knew it was him, he released your arm as you tried to catch your breath.

“I’m sorry” you whispered.

“It’s alright, just havin’ a bad dream is all” he looked at you for a moment curious to ask you what was it that made you so upset but didn’t say a word.

“I’m right here if you need me” he motioned towards the bed on the other side of the room. You quietly nodded and watched as he got back into bed. Turning away from him you could feel the embarrassment from what had just happened yet you were surpsied by how gentle he handled it. It was a new side you both had seen of each other.

The next day you did your best to stay clear from wherever Eduardo could be, and so you decided to stay in the room.

Just one more day of this, one day and you’d be gone. Joel explained to you that he would be going over something with Marlene leaving you by yourself. You assured him it was fine and sat on the bed reading a book you always carried around after making sure the door was locked. Sometime had passed when you heard the door unlock and you figured it was Joel. Laying comfortably facing the wall you flipped the page hearing the door close behind you.

“What happened with Marlene?” You asked when you felt the touch of a hand on your arm making you turn to see it was the very person you had been trying to avoid.

Edward

Quickly you jumped up, your back against the wall as he smirked at your reaction.

“It’s been a while” you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t believe he was right in front of you.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost” he chuckled placing his hand on your thigh. If you could move any further away you would’ve, he could see how anxious he made you.

“Relax, sweetheart I’m not gonna do anything” he licked his bottom lip pushing his hand further up your thigh.

“I just wanted to say hi to an old friend”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek as you tried to turn away.

“It’s a shame you’re leaving tomorrow, thought we could’ve had some fun” he laughed walking back out of the room and closed the door shut.

In shock you sat there with disgust, the simple touch or his hand on your thigh making you sick to your stomach.

You couldn’t do this, you didn’t care about a damn car no matter how badly you both needed it. Quickly you got up running to the door locking it shut once again afraid he would return.

Where the hell was Joel…all you wanted to do was leave.

After what felt like forever you finally heard the door begin to unlock, your heart jumping at the sound.

“Joel?” You called out worriedly to see his face as soon as the door opened.

“Yeah, it’s me” he walked past you not noticing the panic attack you were feeling in that moment.

You watched as he fold a paper and placed it in his backpack, a knot in your throat you struggled to speak.

“Joel” you finally were able to utter a word in a soft whisper. Going through his backpack he didn’t respond not having heard your voice. You struggled to speak again, stomach turning just at the thought of your rapist knowing where you were…the fact that he came to you when you were alone..

“Joel” you spoke a little louder where he was able to hear you.

“Yea” he responded as he zipped up his bag.

“Joel…I can’t stay here another night” you blurt out.

“What?” He asked confused with your statement still not looking back.

“We’re fine here, it’s just till the afternoon’” he assured you making your panic rise.

“No, I…Joel I can’t stay here” he noticed how your voice trembled and slowly turned to you. His eyebrows furrowed once he noticed the worry in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” He stood straight fully facing you.

“Can we just go?” You didn’t want to give the reason, you didn’t want to speak of it.

“We’re getting the car tomorrow, its just one more night-“

“Joel please” you whispered taking a deep breath making him take a step closer. He stood silent, he could tell something had terrified you.

“Somethin’ happen while I was gone?” He asked making you quickly shake your head.

“No, no just please-“ you began to hyperventilate.

“I can’t, I can’t-“ you struggled to breathe when someone knocking on the door made you run into Joels arms. Confused he looked down at you slowly placing his hands on your back sensing the true horror you felt.

“Hey, hey it’s alright, it’s alright” he whispered feeling you shake in his arms. It was like the night before, all over again only this time something in your waking life was scaring the shit out of you. The sound of another knock making you grab onto his shirt.

“Give me a minute!” He called out feeling you hide your face against his chest.

“Hey” he whispered low looking down at you but before he could say another word Edwards voice heightened your fear.

“It’s me, Edward” your eyes widened as you silently began to shake your head.

“What is it, darlin’?” Your panic not allowing you to realize the softness Joel had in his voice with concern over you. The door suddenly opening sending you rushing behind Joel.

Edward appeared at the door.

“I was just making sure you guys had what you needed” a smile Joel didn’t trust appeared on his lips as he leaned over to get a peak at you. You felt Joel’s hand reach behind you holding you against him.

Edward could see the defensive look in Joel’s eyes and wondered if you had told him anything.

“What’s wrong with her?” He asked testing what he would say.

“I got her” is all Joel responded with as Edward looked at him curiously. Not saying another word Edward took a step back giving Joel a nod before leaving the room. Joel waited until he disappeared from his site before giving your thigh a tap behind him.

“He’s gone” he assured you making you slowly peak over his shoulder to see the empty hallway that led to the room. Quickly you ran to the door shutting it closed and locking it with each lock it had.

“We need to get our stuff and get out of here now” you ran to grab your bag and his before he tried to stop you.

“Wait a minute, wait-“ he grabbed you by your arms stopping you before you grabbed anything else. Joel was struggling to understand what exactly had you so afraid of this man.

“Joel, we need to go-“

“Talk to me for a minute”

“No! There’s nothing to talk about, I am not staying here!” You screamed trying to break free from his hold.

“What the hell did he do to you?!”

“Nothing!” You tried to shake his hands off you once more but failed.

“We can’t leave without that car, we need that car if we wanna make it-“

“I don’t care! I’m not staying here with him!”

“He’s not gonna do anything to you, darlin’ I promise you that-“ you shook your head in frustration that he wasn’t understanding.

“He won’t lay a finger on you-“

“He already has!” You suddenly blurt out silencing Joel. An intense look in his eyes as he took a deep breath looking down at you.

“What did he do?” His voice was low, eerie like, suddenly he looked angry as you stood still before him.

“It was long ago” you whispered.

“Doesn’t matter” he quickly responded.

“I had told Tess, I never thought I would see him again….it was a year ago…I had nowhere to go and he said he would help me. He’s the man who raped me.” you looked down as a tear rolled down your cheek.

“Did he come in here while I was gone?” He leaned in closer. You looked up and hesitantly nodded when he abruptly walked out past you charging down the hall.

“Joel!” You called out for him trying to keep up but all Joel could see was red.

“What are you doing?!” You yelled as he kicked the door open where Marlene and Edward both were. Without warning he yanked up Edward by his collar throwing him against the wall as Marlene stood up.

“Joel what the hell are you doing?”

“Stay out of this” he looked at her with a look you had never seen and grabbed Edward once again as he struggled to get on his feet.

“Whatever she said she’s a lying bitch!” He tried to poorly defend himself causing Joel to punch him repeatedly. In shock you stood in the doorway watching it all play out, Joel had lost complete control until Edward was a bloody mess.

“Oh my god-“ you whispered.

Joel stood up and walked towards Marlene who backed up not knowing what he would do.

“Give me the fucking keys” he spoke out of breath. Not even trying to fight him she opened the drawer and tossed him the car keys before he looked back at Eduardo.

“Should be more careful of who you have workin’ for ya. Got a rapist on your hands” Joel walked out of the room without looking at you in the eye, taking your hand he led you out.

In disbelief you walked alongside him trying to keep up, at one point looking behind you.

He still wouldn’t say a word.

Joel opened the car door for you and quickly got in the drivers seat before driving off.

Speeding down the road he didn’t take his eyes off it before abruptly pulling over. You could see him though the corner of your eye turning his body fully toward you, you didn’t know what to expect.

“You don’t ever keep somethin’ like that from me again. We clear?” You nodded in silence looking down at your lap.

“We would’ve never stayed there for even one night had I know what he done to you. You ever feel unsafe again I need ya to tell me and you tell me right away”

“Yes Joel” you whispered.

Turning back towads the road he pulled off feeling he came off kind of harsh towards you which wasn’t what he wanted. Unexpectedly you felt him place his hand on your lap bringing you a sense of calmness. He slowly entangled his fingers with yours without looking your way, you had no idea what this meant but one thing was for sure..

Joel made you feel safe.

[rayveneyed]

cw; suggestive / softcore smut, alcohol consumption (possibly dubcon), inappropriate workplace relationships, cisfem!reader

nanami kento is too old for fucking.

he tells you this at 1 am — in not quite as many words — a few too many somaeks in, lethargic and slow from the length of the workday. there’s enough alcohol in his system to have him silk-loose and soft, cursing more freely and allowing vulgarity (or what he considers vulgarity) to grace his ever-so-polite tongue.

you’ve never heard him like this before; you’ve never heard your straight laced coworker utter anything more than a family-friendly expletive (drat being a recurring character — old-fashioned, but endearing). but his shirt is unbuttoned at the collar and his hair is mussed, and the blush of intoxication is rising to his sharp cheekbones — and yes, he curses. it almost sounds elegant when he does it. rolling over his tongue in his poorly-lit living room, where he’d only bothered to turn one lamp on; gathering with his voice like balls of cotton wool deep in his chest.

you yourself have had one too many drinks — that is why you find warmth pooling in your stomach at the sound of his confession, at the sight of his face illuminated in honey-soft light. after all, you’d never let the barrier of strained, charged professionalism drop otherwise. you’d never accept kento’s sudden invite for a nightcap after a night already filled with drinking, surrounded by tipsy coworkers at a local izakaya; you’d never let him help you slip your heels off, deft fingers unbuckling the strap from your ankle and lingering just long enough for you to notice. you’d surely never sit so close to him on his fancy 1.5 million yen couch — and you’d never, ever entertain the comment he’d made, one that he never intended for you to hear in the first place.

“what was that?” you say, coy, as if the comment hadn’t twisted something horrid in your gut. (as if you weren’t imagining him flushed from top to bottom, panting against your neck. it’s the alcohol, you’re sure of it.) “you’re too old for all that crazy stuff? like what?”

his adam’s apple bobs. he’s sitting slumped low next to you, his head hanging backwards against the back of the couch and his gaze somewhere on the high ceilings above your head, like he can’t face you. pretty. handsome. “sorry. i was just thinking out loud.”

“i know.” you take a sip of your own somaek. “but we’re both adults here, right? i mean, i agree. i’m not as flexible as i was at 20.”

his laugh is more of a surprised huff — like he’s just as surprised as you are that your conversation has steered into such uncharted territory. perhaps he’s surprised that he’s even responding to it — but he does, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. his thigh presses against yours through those infernal khaki slacks. “mm. me neither.”

you shoot him a cheeky grin. “you were getting folded like a pretzel, i presume?”

another laugh, tinged with incredulity this time. “mm. something like that.”

you both sit in silence for a moment. his apartment really is lovely — the kind of apartment you only get when you’re as diligent as nanami, putting aside money for years and steadily working his way up the hierarchal corporate ladder. high ceilings and a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows opposite his couch; a kitchen with a granite island; fancy furniture straight from an interior designer’s wet dream. it’s all neutral greys and browns, cozy and elegant and refined, and suddenly you wonder what his bedroom looks like. you take another sip of your drink.

“getting older’s not all that bad,” you say, almost offhandedly, speaking more to the tokyo skyline than your drinking companion. (you bet he has a double-king with fancy 500-count cotton bedsheets. probably some trinkets. man stuff like shavers and cuff links and aftershave.) “i like it slow anyways.”

a strange, choked sound leaves your drinking partner, and your eyes shoot over to him. you’re suddenly mortified at your careless blabbering — but drunk enough for your embarrassment to be eclipsed by a prideful ignorance. “huh? nanami-san, are you okay?”

he stares up at the ceiling once more. his throat bobs again. a slight blush has dusted the tops of his ears — but before you can linger in it, his eyes suddenly flicker to meet yours. you’re almost taken aback by it — the intensity with which his brown eyes suddenly bore into you, the sullenness and modesty from before pushed aside for something newer. something rawer. “…forgive me for my forwardness—”

“you’re forgiven.”

“—but, i…”

you swallow. he still hasn’t looked away. your breathing has stilted, stagnant and pressing, in your lungs. you fight the urge to press against the point where his thigh meets your own, already on the verge of squirming under his heady stare. “but…?”

straight-laced nanami kento breathes deeply, his chest moving with the force of it, and as his breath shudders out of him, he bites out: “i really want you, right now.”

your heartbeat rushes in your ears.

“but we’re coworkers,” kento continues, like he’s been sitting on it for a while — like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you. his hand — the one not clutching his glass, the one laying on top of his thigh, flexes. “it’s unprofessional — completely inappropriate. i should be written up for simply confessing this to you.”

“but we—” you swallow around a dry throat — all moisture in your body seemingly gathering between your legs, hot and thrumming and nowhere to go— “we’re not working right now.”

a beat of silence.

kento finally looks away from you, and you can breathe again. you grapple with the sudden influx of air in your lungs, the anxiety of misstepping broiling in the pit of your stomach. while you internally struggle with yourself, nanami sets his somaek on the coffee table, before slumping back again.

“i suppose we’re not.”

unsurprisingly, kento does not make the first move. he just sits there, one arm behind his head and the other laying limp at his side, his chin tilted towards the sky and his eyes shut as if to sleep. it’s not in a way that might be construed as arrogance — this isn’t your high school boyfriend sitting back and waiting for you to pull down his pants — it’s pure and utter indulgence. climb over him if you want. kiss him when you want. cross the imaginary line drawn in the sand when it suits you — regardless, he won’t ever touch unless you explicitly make it clear that you want him to. desire curdles in your stomach, almost painful, and it's all you can do to scrabble onto your knees beside him.

before your anxiety takes control of your faculties — before you allow your cowardice to seize your limbs — you swing a knee to the other side of his hips. you're straddling him, close enough that you're sure you're sharing the same air, and — fuck, he's much bigger than you'd anticipated. he doesn't have the wiry, lean stature of the average salaryman — somehow, between sleeping overnight in the office and drinking at izakayas almost nightly, kento's frame is sturdy and large, muscular. like he works out often. you don't know how he does it with the long hours he puts in, but your thighs almost ache with the stretch of his hips between them — and pressed right against you, right where you're sensitive and aching and perhaps a little too needy, is his clothed cock. the slacks do little to camouflage the shape or hardness of it — in fact, you swear you feel it twitch when you seat yourself against it.

kento's eyes flutter open. his cheekbones are slowly reddening, his glasses hooked low on his nose bridge. his arms twitch where they lay, like he was about to move to hold you and thought better of it. you wish he didn't think better of it. "hi."

you give a little smile, hopefully looking less like you're brimming with excitable energy than you actually are. his lips really are quite close to yours. if you just leaned forward... "hi."

they're not chapped, his lips, but not shining with lip balm. they're soft looking and slightly pink, naturally down-turned in a way that makes him seem grumpy most of the time. but they're quirked up in a little smile, now, and all you can think about is how they might feel against yours. your lip gloss has long since rubbed off, between drinking and eating and drinking again, but would the remnants of glitter smear against his lips? would he come away tasting cherries?

kento clears his throat.

"i have to be honest with you," he says. he adjusts his glasses smartly, the way he does at the office, the way that has all the your female coworkers swooning. "i'm… passed the age of doing things no strings attached — that is to say, if—”

heart suddenly swooping in your chest — delighted at being indulged, of having your affections returned — and brain whizzing along like a child who's had too much sugar, you connect your lips with little fanfare. you're perhaps too enthusiastic — prodding his mouth with your tongue as soon as he'll let you, leaning forward until your chests press together and you can almost feel his heart beating through his skin. his lips are soft, after all. soft but weathered, moving so pleasantly against yours — and then his hands squeeze at the plushness of your hips, his teeth take your bottom lip between them, and—

you're panting when you pull away. panting and flushed and hot all over, barely an inch between you for fear of distance. you’re hot where you’re connected, so filled with nervous, excitable energy you think you might wither; nanami’s grasp on you, steel-tight and warm, does little to help. it’s all you can do to give yourself a second to recuperate, chest heaving — and nanami seems just as bad off. the usually well-kept salaryman looks a mess underneath you, with his lips swollen, his eyes half-lidded, and his breathing uneven — even then, though, his eyes are far too intense for you to calm any.

“to be honest,” you say, "i’m — i’m a little too old for that, too, kento."

another small smile. the gap between you is filled once more. you both call in sick that morning.

[moonstruckme]

hi mum can we get more dr rem PLEASE :3

Always pookie <3

cw: implicit nausea and vomit, no description

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus picks up on the third ring. “Hello?” 

The sound of his voice makes you smile even in your sorry state. “Hi, Remus.” 

“Hi.” Something softens in his tone; you like to think he’s smiling too. “I’m not late to pick you up, am I? I’ve only just got home from work.” 

“No, so did I.” You lean your forehead on the cool ceramic of your toilet tank, thanking your past self for having cleaned it just yesterday. “I actually…I’m sorry, I think I’m going to need a raincheck.” 

A pause. “Oh.” You wince at the disappointment in his voice. “That’s too bad. Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah, I think I’ve just caught a bug,” you say. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much fun.” 

“You’re always fun,” Remus replies warmly, and you smile. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not great,” you hedge. You’ve been dating Remus long enough to know how he worries, and you don’t want that. “I’ll live, though. Maybe we can meet later in the week?” 

“Or,” he says, low and coaxing, “I could come over now and make you some soup.” 

You almost sigh, it sounds so nice. What you wouldn’t give to have him rub your back, carry you to bed and press a kiss to your brow. But you’re a mess right now, and you’re trying to save him from it. 

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” you say reluctantly. “Anyway, it’s not that kind of sick.” 

“Tell me your symptoms.”

“Ew,” you laugh. “Take me to dinner first, Lupin.”

“Well, I did try,” he says, and you can almost hear his smile through the phone. It catches just as easily as it does in person. “Seriously, love, how do you feel? Do you know what it is?” 

“Not necessarily, but it’s really not bad. I just don’t want to infect you.” 

“I could probably help.”

“But when you got sick I’d feel awful,” you tell him sincerely. “Thank you, but really, don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a ring when I’m no longer a biohazard, okay?” 

Remus harrumphs, but when he speaks his voice still crackles with fondness. “Alright.” 

“Thanks. Bye.” 

You hear him echo you as you lower the phone from your ear, setting it on the bathroom floor before following it down. You don’t feel secure enough in your stomach to leave the toilet just yet, so you curl up on the small mat by the shower and succumb to the exhaustion that’s been chasing you since lunchtime. 

~~~

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

You wake to a warm hand on your even warmer shoulder, startling a bit as you pull your face from the rug. Remus is looking down at you with an awful little crease between his brows. 

“Remus?” you ask, just to be sure. 

“Hi,” he says softly. “You didn’t sound this bad over the phone, you know. I’d have rushed if I knew you were about to take a nap on the floor.” 

You blink, trying to clear the fog from your brain. “How’d you get in here?” 

“You showed me the spare key when I took care of your plants, remember?” Remus looks a bit sorry, wedging a hand underneath your ribs to encourage you sitting up. “I did try to call, but I think you must have slept through it.” 

“Oh,” you murmur, getting upright and crossing your legs underneath you awkwardly.

He smiles thinly and sets a hand to your forehead. The gesture feels oddly intimate. You’ve slept with this man, met his friends, shown him where you keep your spare key, and somehow this feels intimate.

Remus makes a terribly lovely cooing sound. You think you might just die right here. 

“You’re burning,” he says worriedly. “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

“Since about lunch,” you admit. 

“Yeah?” He frowns, cupping your face in the basin of his palm. “How’d you fare at work?” 

“I got sick in the bathroom, but then I just finished out the day.” Remus’ frown is starting to look mortifyingly near to a pout. “It wasn’t this bad then, I don’t think. It got worse once I was home.” 

He hums. “Do you know how you caught it?” 

You glance at the toilet, horrified at the sight of your unflushed sick inside. “Some of my coworkers went home sick, but…look, Remus, it was really nice of you to come, but you don’t have to be here.” You say this with your cheek tucked into his palm, soaking up the feeling of his touch. “It’s way too early for you to see me like this.” 

“Oh?” One corner of his mouth twitches, but he keeps his expression curious. “Why’s that?” 

“Because…because.” You try to imbue your tone with some sternness. “It’s the standard progression of things. Peeing together, saying I love you, then you see me when I’m sick.” 

Remus nods, humming pensively. His thumb strokes at your cheek. “You want to pee together before saying I love you? That’s interesting.” 

You feel your face heat, which you didn’t know was even possible at this point. You thought surely you’d maxed out. “I’m serious.” 

“Alright,” he says. Soft, pacifying. “All that notwithstanding, I’m afraid I can’t leave you like this, lovely girl. I’ll avert my eyes if you want me to, but I’m really not too worried about seeing you any way you can be, so I think it might be easier on you if you didn’t worry about it either.” 

You wither. “But I’m gross.” 

He frowns. “You’re not. You’re just not feeling your best right now, and that’s fine. Let me take care of you.” 

You look at him for a few moments, and Remus looks back. His amber stare is steady. Finally, you give in to your more pathetic urges and nod. 

“Alright.” He gives your cheek another tender stroke. “Do you feel like you’re going to be sick again now?” 

“No,” you say meekly. It feels weird to discuss these things with him, but Remus acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world. 

“Perfect. Think you can make it to bed?” 

You definitely can, but Remus still walks you the whole way, one arm around your waist and his attention cautiously on your feet should you stumble. He gets you situated under the covers, forbidding more than one blanket until your fever comes down, and goes back into the bathroom to get the supplies he’d brought with him. 

You hear the toilet flush and cringe, but he comes back out like nothing happened. 

“I wasn’t sure what to bring since you wouldn't tell me what you had on the phone,” there’s a bit of light admonishment to his tone as he sits on the edge of your mattress with a paper bag, “so I brought most of my medicine cabinet. Do you want some anti-nausea, or are you still alright for now?” 

“Yes, please,” you say in a small voice. Remus passes you a cup of water before shaking a pill into his hand. He watches as you take it. 

“You’re going to want to keep taking small sips of that,” he tells you. “It sounds like you’re right and it’s just a stomach bug, so we’ll probably keep you off solid foods for a little while. You just let me know when you’re feeling up to some crackers or something, okay?” 

“Okay,” you echo him. Your heart suddenly feels as warm and tender as if your fever were affecting it, too. You’re enamored with the idea that you could go to sleep, right now, and Remus would still be here to take care of you when you wake up. He’d probably hold your hand if you asked, or read you something, or just sit with you if that was what you wanted. It makes you feel pathetically teary to think of being so cared for. 

Something shifts in Remus’ expression. He looks at you more closely, pushing a piece of hair away from your face. 

“Everything alright, sweetheart?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” You swallow. “Just, thanks for coming.”

Remus smiles. “Changing our minds about the standard progression of things, are we?” But before you get a chance to hide under your covers and never come out, he leans forward, kissing your cheek. “Don’t mention it.”

[skipper19]

Imagine this...

When a movie about the number two hero was announced, you immediately called your husband. After all, how could he not have told you there was a movie about him coming out!? This must have been an unofficial trailer. Surely, this wasn't true.

Lo' and behold, your husband didn't even know about it. But one thing was for sure, he was very angry. Keigo called his assistant, asking him why, in the hell, he did not know about this movie? His assistant didn't really have a good answer, something about low budget and "Keigo being too busy to worry about such matters." You, on the other hand, were so excited about this.

Sure, your husband didn't even get to play himself in his own movie, but you thought it was still so amazing that there was a movie about him at all! You begged and pleaded for Keigo to come watch it with you. It was in theaters right now. Everyone is talking about how awesome it is, and you have to watch it.

Keigos' pettiness was holding him back. For a while, he denied you. Absolutely not. He wasn't even in it. His own ego was bruised, and he just refused to go and watch that trash. Eventually, he did cave in. Keigo was never able to deny his pretty wife for a long time anyway.

Keigo wasn't mad, so to speak, he was very hurt. He worked so hard every day to save lives. He earned the respect and fans he's gained in his hero career. In his humble opinion, he did deserve a movie. He's been through some shit anyway, that's ought to get some views. Not that the movie could possibly be accurate to his life, no one but him, his wife, and the hero committee knew of his past.

But Keigo wished he would have at least been offered a cameo in the movie. And why in the world did the director not reach out and ask permission to make a movie about him? Keigo felt salty, for sure, but he sucked it up for you.

Keigo granted himself a day off and finally took you to see this movie. He hadn't even seen any of the trailers. He had no idea what this could possibly be about. But that didn't seem to stop you from bouncing in your seat as the lights dimmed. A large bowl of popcorn sat between you and Keigo as you also shared a drink.

Despite the lingering pout on his lips, a spark of excitement buzzed deep within Keigos chest. They made a whole movie..about him. Even his insanely good poker face broke from that pout as a smirk itched itself into his lips.

That excitement quickly faded away. No more smirks or happy giggles. No more playful banter. You and Keigo were in shock as you sat through this nightmare.

You should have watched the trailers.

Keigo was now very happy that he didn't star in his own movie because that was horrible.

You were both speechless as you exited the theater. Silence followed you both as you settled into the car. Neither of you could really say much. In summary, the movie was about Keigo, hurray, but if Keigo was a man whore douchebag that only became a hero for fame. Want a spoiler for the end of the film? He meets you (big yay) and becomes a better man after learning how to keep his cock in his pants.

At least you were in it...right?

Wrong. The actors who played your and Keigos' characters looked nor acted nothing like you. The acting/graphics were ass, and they somehow got your quirk wrong. Obviously, they couldn't mess up Keigos' quirk, but Keigo was still quite upset with how they portrait you as a helpless damsel in distress. The woman's boob's didn't even look like yours..though Keigo supposed he was glad no one else knows what exactly your boob's look like.

But as you both sat in the car, silent and awkward, a mumbled laugh broke the silence. Keigo glanced over and saw you, hiding your smile behind your hand, as you kept your face towards the car window. "What the hell are you laughing at?" He mumbled, a smile tugging on his lips. You could only shake your head and cover your face with both hands.

"Stop laughing!" Keigos voice turned to a whine. This made you burst out laughing, leaning over in your seat to clutch your stomach. Keigo crossed his arms and pouted. "I'm sorry honey, I really am. But that was the dumbest movie I've ever seen!" You cackled, tears forming in your eyes. Keigo couldn't stop himself from laughing as well. "It's not funny when it's about us -" He tried to sound stern. "- no, I know, I know! But the look on your face throughout the entire movie was priceless." You looked back up at him with a smirk. "My face? You should have seen your face when that woman started to strip -" Your smile fell, and you poked Keigos chest. "Hey, that's not fair! She didn't even look like me!" Keigo busted out laughing as you went on and on about the inaccuracy of the characters.

It wasn't long before Keigo started the car up and began to drive you both home. Sure, there would probably be comments and concerns about this movie in the future, but Keigo could feel the worry and pettiness wash away as he listened to your rant about the movie. Good and bad reviews.

Although, in the end, you settled on the bad reviews.

[volturissideslut]

First interraction with Marcus volturi and any character you want please 💗

𝕸𝖆𝖗𝖈𝖚𝖘 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

It was winter in Italy, and the coldest one yet. At least in your short lifetime. Visiting family and friends who lived here was always such good fun, though there wasn't as much to do here in the small town of Volterra in comparison to home. Yes there were markets and cafe's, but it still wasn't home.

The thought was shaken from you by the cold icy breeze. When you were a child and thought 'Italy', you were surrounded by the ideas of tanning and boats, gelato and galleries. Not the current minuses in temperature and frost, nor the redness of your nose and jutter in your shoulders. Just two weeks, and then home you shall arrive. But for now this pond isn't too bad a view.

"Cold, Tesoro?" A voice shakes you from your stupor, low and gravelly. Wizzing your head around to meet his gaze, you find eyes almost as black as the depths of the murky pond, onyx in a way unseen until now.

"A little, sir." As you speak you notice him begin to remove his cloak, a black that blends in with the midnight, looking as if it were a colour sample from the night itself. Your hand somehow raises itself, a motion attempted to stop him. And yet it does not. "I'll be fine. Really."

"Doubtful" is all he gives in return, taking a place by your side as if it was the most natural thing in the world - instinct. Your brows furrow and our heart quickens just the littlest.

"Who are you, anyway?" It comes out brash, rude almost despite you not having meant it this way. It would be understandable, though. A strange man wrapping his cloak around you in the middle of the night, and staying silently by your side. Luckily enough he chuckles, obviously finding something humorous about the moment.

"Who am I?" Though you cannot see his face as you both gaze upon the pond, you can hear the grin in his voice, the amusement he finds in this little interaction. "My name is Marcus. I occupy and own the castle grounds you are trespassing on, as well as the water and fish we are watching, tesoro."

"Trespassing?" You can almost feel life itself draining from you in dread of the trouble you might have accidentally caused. Who was he? Hopefully you hadn't somehow angered the man who owns a bloody castle. "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I can lea-"

He stops you from removing the cloak he had draped over you, halting your voice with a simple hand raise. Figures it works on you and not the other way round. Finally, he turns his body toward you fully and allows you to see his full face. Pale yet inviting. Old and wise, yet young and hopeful. "There will be no need for that, dearest. You are welcome here. In fact, do you wish to see my library? Perhaps it shall be yours one day too."

And though every bone inside of you should be screaming stranger danger you cannot help but trust him somehow. Somehow, when your arm links with his you can do nothing but melt into his touch. Somehow, when you enter inside him warm and inviting home and learn of it all, you can't help but bare your neck and entrust yourself. Damned Italian winter.

Though you and your husband are now eternally colder.

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART IV

************************************************************************

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: major character death (?), more plot-driven smut, strong language, anxiety-inducing themes, panic attacks, co-dependency, hot n heavy but low-key emotional s*x. MINORS, DNI. 18+

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

When you do manage to get yourself out of bed and dressed for the day, which consists of an oversized long sleeved shirt that you stole from your uncle (because you liked it) along with some leggings and long white socks, you tell yourself to take a deep breath and accept whatever fate awaits you.

You've made your bed (literally, and figuratively speaking) so now you have to... well, not lie in it...

Anyway.

You walk downstairs to smell Steve at work in the kitchen, cooking up something delicious. Eddie sees you first, on the couch.

He grins and waves. "Mornin’, princess.”  

You smile and give him a little wave. "Howdy."

Robin walks in with a first aid kit to give him fresh bandages, visibly sagging with relief when she sees you.

“Oh thank God, you’re up. These kids are already on one...”

You can’t help but snort a laugh at that, taking in her frazzled state, and you ask her what you can do to help but she just says in a desperate voice, “Coffee, please, I love you.”  You grin and nod, hearing her and Eddie fussing over his dressing as you make for a hot cup of coffee.

You can hear the kids all around the corner, chirping lively from the kitchen. Even El is in there participating. Hopper’s voice is in the mix somewhere, grunting something about “indoor voices.”  Your uncle is arguing over something with Erica, balls deep in a heated debate.

When you round the corner, your eyes first land on Nancy. She’s sitting at the bar with Jonathan. She smiles at you shyly. Jonathan greets you out loud.

“Bauman Squared is up.”

The kids all get in a tizzy of excitement. Erica’s excitement is short-lived, given her intense debate with your uncle. But Dustin is rushing over to you, blabbering about something pertaining to the lifespan of canned goods, and Mike is chiming in from the table saying, “No, Dustin, hold up, okay?  So, Bauman, this is actually how it started.”

But your uncle cuts him off, asking them why they call you that when you both share the same last name. Joyce teasingly points out that he’s Murray and you’re Bauman.

Hopper adds to that, “yeah man, get with the program. Your niece is our favorite.” He shoots you a wink, and you give him a finger gun of approval.

Your uncle is rolling his eyes, but shoots you a desperate look — “Coffee. Black. Strong. Gracias.”   Erica resumes her debate with him.

You grin as you move to go get your uncle a much needed cup of coffee, finding that Steve has stopped flipping the pancakes to look at you with a soft smile and scooting over a hot mug of coffee to you. 

But it’s not for your uncle. It’s for you.

“Two sugar, light cream, right?”   

The way that Steve murmurs the question to you makes you weak in the knees. You settle for giving him a tight-lipped grin and nod.

“Yeah, thank you,” you murmur back.

Steve moves to grab another mug, moving to pour another cup of straight black coffee for your uncle. You can’t help but notice the curve of his biceps as he does, secretly admiring his face while the coffee pours from the pot. The way his white t-shirt fits him just right, his gray sweatpants sitting at the jusssst right point of his hips.

You swallow. Fuck.

You get a hold of yourself before he’s handing it over to you. He winks. “It’s strong. I promise.”

You smirk back at him, raising the glass in thanks before walking it over to your uncle.

You don’t notice the way that Steve tries to hide the overwhelming thoughts in his brain, signaling his evolving feelings for you.

And you also don’t notice now Nancy catches it, or how it uncomfortably makes her heart seize...

But you do notice your uncle staring at you with those damn all-knowing-eyes, while Erica incessantly jabbers on about whatever the hell they’re debating. You and Murray exchange the quietest but most intense glares.

And Hopper's got half a donut hanging out of his mouth as he happens to catch the tail end of this. He wants to ask, but decides it’s best to hold off on that.

***

The day goes well. The house is always staying busy, so it keeps you all that way. Hopper is calling for a family meeting in the living room, which gets everyone in a tizzy.

The boys will always, at some point, try to take over. It takes both Joyce and Hopper to set them straight.

Your uncle makes sure to throw in his usual statement: “peanut gallery hours will follow the meeting, thank you.” 

This meeting is no exception, and it goes exactly like that.

Will makes great points, as always — and he is allowed to, along with El, given their ties to the supernatural.

Jonathan and Nancy always listen the best. One of them takes notes.

Normally, you sit next to your uncle or Eddie while Steve always takes a seat next to Robin. 

But this time, as you sit next to Murray at the end of the couch listening to Hopper try to push through his conference lecture while Dustin interjects like crazy, your heart flutters as Steve moves from the staircase over to sit on the arm of the couch -- next to you.

You sit still, not letting yourself react or look up at him. But you also forget to breathe. Thankfully, he’s too busy telling Dustin to can it so he doesn’t notice.

Robin is slowly shifting back in her seated position in the large loveseat, having been prepared to make room for Steve. She’s too grateful to have it to herself to feel suspicious yet.

Eddie, however, clocks it. What “it” is, necessarily? He doesn’t know.  Like honestly, he’s not even in the ballpark.  But still, he notices so yay gold star.

Nancy does know what “it” is, though, when she catches it.  Or at least she has an inkling.  She’s not the note taker today, so she’s able to catch it. She wonders to herself if maybe she is just overthinking it, given her conflicted feelings for Steve while still with Jonathan.

Steve is actively participating in the conversation with the adults, and you chime in as well. Once you’ve gotten a grip on yourself.

Something is being said about needing to go on a supply run, but also how they need to get over to the main field and see what is happening at the lab — which is now squared off with all electric fencing. The kids are LOUD, demanding it be them. Hopper shuts that down real fast.

“So help me Goddddd, listentome.” — Hopper

“Kids, shh, calm down…” — Joyce

“FETUSES, SILENCIO.”  — Murray

The kids relent with rolled eyes and groans of displeasure. Hopper rubs his temples, resetting.  Then speaking —

“I will be assigning roles. You will hear them, and you will accept them.  Deal?”

Everyone nods, agreeing. Even the kids. Great, you think, so they’ve learned to know better than push their luck that far…

Hopper is assigning 4 separate groups to 4 separate tasks. 

In one group: Robin, Nancy, Will and Joyce. They will be making the supply run.

In the 2nd group: Dustin, Erica and Murray will be staying here to run the command center. Murray’s the boss. He grins, but also wants to jump off a cliff for the fact he has been assigned the responsibility of managing the two loudest kids in the group. Lucas will also stay with Max, while on lookout at base.

In the 3rd group: Hopper, El, Mike and Argyle as the driver. They’ll be assessing the damage done, pertaining to the gate re-opening. They’re on Vecna patrol.

In the 4th group: Jonathan, Steve, you and Eddie. You’ll all be venturing over the fence to spy on the lab and get a look at what is happening over there, while reporting back to Group 2.

This sends Dustin to a fit of determination, as he insists that he joins your group so that he can help with the walkie-talkie communication since Lucas and Erica can man the fort. (Murray definitely takes offense to that.)

Hopper huffs but doesn’t disagree with the suggestion. “Don’t let this give you any sort of false pretenses, kid. This is the one suggestion you’ve made that is sensible.”

Dustin just grins like a dopey idiot. Then he looks at Steve. “Yay!”

Steve rolls his eyes but honestly, he’s cool with having his buddy.

The plan is to go into effect early tomorrow morning. Meaning, everyone needs to get some good ass sleep and tuck in early.

You’re in your room now, having just showered and put on your pajamas with freshly brushed teeth. You’re putting together your combat outfit for tomorrow when there’s a knock at your door.

You expect it to be your uncle, since earlier he was going over strategies with you for an obscenely long time — which is his very awkward way of indirectly saying, “hey, you’re my niece and I love you and I’m worried about you because that’s what family does.” So you figure he’s drawn up another 10 plans to run by you, and you're happy to humor him on them.

But it’s Steve on the other side, looking shy and like he might’ve had to talk himself into doing this in fear of how you might react.

You give him a surprised but pleasant smile. He stands there, returning it timidly. There is a silence that falls over both of you. Then finally —

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

You have to literally restrain yourself from jumping at that question with a way-too-eager oh thank god, yes. Instead, you just give him a polite grin.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

Steve lets himself in, and he looks over to see your outfit set aside for tomorrow. He nods at it as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“Tryna look badass?”

You smirk. “I am a badass. I’m a Bauman.”

You expect Steve to scoff. To roll his eyes. Make some snide remark. But he doesn’t. He just looks at you, with that same look on his face that he had this morning while you two laid in bed together. You can’t break away your gaze for a moment, almost hypnotized.

God, he is so beautiful. Why the fuck is he so beautiful?

Finally, you break the stare down by moving to get your combat boots out from the closet and place them beside the clothes.

And that’s when you feel it. His fingers brushing the edge of your t-shirt, hooking onto it so that you turn around. You do, letting him turn you to face him. He’s looking at you intently, and slowly he pulls you towards him to cage you between his spread legs as he sits on the edge of the bed. It’s half shy, half confident. Gentle but assertive. You stare down into his doe eyes, and you hold your breath when his fingers splay across your hips as they grip onto you. You’re so close to him now, too close yet somehow not close enough. You can’t breathe.

After soaking you in, Steve reaches one arm up to pull your neck down to his face so that he can brush the tip of his nose against yours, just like you did last night. Ever so slowly, be nuzzles. Eskimo kiss.

And then his lips are finding their way to be against yours.

Steve kisses you softly, taking his time and just breathing you in. Then he sighs into your mouth as he stands so that he can lift you up, making you swing your legs to wrap around his waist and hold yourself to him there. He turns you both around, effortlessly walking you over to sit on top of the chest of drawers. Damn, he's strong. Steve places you there, lips still on yours, before he finally pulls back.  His hands glide down to the bottom of your shirt. Please, his eyes ask. But this time, he wrenches your shirt off of you with more vigor than last night. It’s urgent, and it’s still urgent when his lips crash back into yours before wrenching himself back again so that you can tug his shirt over his own head. He grunts impatiently, wanting to not be apart from you yet needing to be skin to skin. He paws and grabs at you, needy and greedy, but something about it feels a whole lot more like love than lust.

Steve tastes like summer. Sunscreen, popsicles and June. He smells like pool water and boyfriend. And he looks like a dream. 

You wonder how in the world he would have felt if he’d been told during his King Steve era that one day, he’d be having sex with that one student who graduated a year early and didn’t belong to any niche crowd or group or clique. You wonder if he would scoff at that, wave it off. Say, nah, that girl? Never.

But the way that Steve keens into your neck right now, murmuring sinful names for you like angel and baby, makes you wonder if King Steve wouldn’t be able to understand that the new and improved Steve Harrington might just happen to be into things he never was into before. Maybe he’d gotten close with Nancy. Maybe you were a rebound. But he didn’t kiss you like that. Or treat you like that after your first time, for that matter...

And the second time was just as euphoric as the first time, just different. Steve was more in control, clinging to you and unafraid to go for it.

Before you know it, you’re up against the wall with your bare chest against it and your legs spread widely and his mouth on your ear. Tugging at your earlobe with his teeth and his shaky breathing, infused with his pleasured grunting humming inside of your eardrums. You pant and bite back the screams that you so fucking badly want to release. but you don't, not wanting to wake the entire household or get the attention anyone awake.  However, you made sure that he knew you were in pure fucking bliss with the way you arched your back into him and dripped all over his girth.

“Been wanting to be here inside you all day,” he rasped, thrusting against you. “Didn’t wanna leave this room.” His words break up as he pounds himself deeper into your guts. “Needed to — to — n-n-need you —”

You throw your head back against him, climaxing at his words for the second time in a row tonight. His arm linked around your waist tightens, gripping you like a lifeline, and he chokes into your ears — which only sends you into an orgasm unlike anything you’ve ever felt in your life. And Steve shares the exact same experience as you do when he ejaculates inside of you.

You both pant and gasp for air, your heart rates racing at lightning speed and trying to level out. You’re both slick with sweat and sex, and as Steve rests his head against your shoulder it sends chills up your arms when his hair flops and tickles your bare skin.

Steve pulls out of you, and you shiver as you feel him leave your body, inch by inch. The loss of him is overwhelming, and your legs shake. But before you can even move to catch yourself, Steve is already turning you to him with a steady grasp on you.

The way that Steve strokes your hair, moving it out of your face as he stares into your eyes again, is priceless. You can’t help it…

“You’re beautiful, Steve Harrington.” You breathe it against his face, still catching your breath. The corners of your lips twitch, almost like you want to laugh or smile. “I can’t stand you.”

Steve looks at you like you’re all that matters in this world. The pads of his thumbs stroke the skin under your eyes, softly, gingerly. He moves to press his lips to the corner of your mouth, breathing against it, “I can’t stand you either.”

Feather-like kisses are pressed to the corner of your mouth and cheek, and you revel in the glory of it, pressing your skull into the wall with your eyes fluttering shut.

Steve falls asleep first that night, with you tucked underneath his chin and with his arms holding you protectively. You let the sound of his steady breathing lull you to sleep.

***

The next morning comes sooner than you’d like.

You feel someone squeeze you tightly to them, pressing their lips to the crown of your hair before they roll out of bed. You watch as Steve’s back muscles flex while he tugs his sweatpants back over his boxers, then throws his shirt back on and heads to your little en-suite bathroom for a few minutes. You force yourself to sit up, knowing that it’s time and you’ll need to get ready.

Hopper would be so mad if he knew about the 5 hours of sleep you got, versus the 8.

You’re pulling out a pair of socks to go with your boots when Steve emerges from the bathroom, and before you can stand up and move to switch places — he’s cupping your cheeks to kiss your forehead in two lingering pecks. You smile under his touch.

You give him the shyest of looks before going to brush your teeth, re-shower and get changed.

Steve quietly murmurs to you the promise of coffee as he leaves. And he is all you think about in the shower.

You get changed into your army pants, combat boots, and fitted t-shirt. You grab yourself a windbreaker and throw your go-bag over your shoulder, ready to face the day.

Dustin is securing the command center with Murray and Erica, while Mike comes over to you carrying snacks.

“Here, I set extra aside so that you have plenty.”  Mike always treated you more like a sister than Nancy, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her. You ruffle his hair and give him a quick squeeze, grateful.

Lucas and Will are asking you questions about the trip, along with Mike, and you assure your kiddos that you’ll all be fine.

Hopper comes over to you with Murray, entrusting you with one of their guns. “You’re the group's team lead today, along with Steve.”

Steve’s got his nail bat, along with a pistol.

Murray is going over the inner workings of the lab’s field layout with you and your group.

“The break switch is in this building,' he's saying. "But thanks to Erica and Dustin, we’ve got a way of hacking into it at exactly this time. You’ll have this much time to mount the electric fence and get to the other side. Seize. Those. Minutes. Haul ass. Get to the other side.  No asking why the chicken crossed the road. Capiché?”

The way that Jonathan, Eddie and Steve repeat the word back to him makes you visibly bite back a laugh.

Joyce is giving everyone the nurturing mama bear talk, hugging everyone too many times — especially Jonathan. She has Will in her group, so she’ll be a little more sane in the head thankfully.

Nancy and Jonathan are giving each other an affectionate goodbye that Steve doesn’t even notice. Nancy wonders if he does. Silently, and selfishly, she hopes he does. But he doesn’t.

Robin is rambling about something having to do with a jump-ship plan in case the jump-ship plan doesn’t work, and if they need to establish not only a 2nd abort —

“— but maybe even a 3rd abort? and wait is there really enough backpacks that they’re taking to fit all the supplies and can goods that they — ”

“Oh my god, Robin, please breathe,” Steve cuts her off.

“Wait, what’s the jump ship plan?” Argyle’s question makes everyone whip their head in his direction with incredulous looks on their faces.

Hopper looks ready to slug someone but also like a nervous dad. After he goes back over the plan for everyone, giving the bullet points, he tells you all to eat your breakfasts and be by the front door within 30 minutes or else.

Lucas takes his plate up to sit with Max. El comes over to talk with you about the day, saying that she’ll send a signal if she sees anything dangerous headed your way at the lab. She gives you a tight hug, which tugs at Hopper’s heart. He and Murray share a very rare, quiet moment with an exchange in their eyes. Our girls.

Steve is telling the boys and Erica to follow him upstairs to Max’s room to join Lucas for a motherly pep talk, and they all follow him like chicks following a mother hen.

Eddie is being given strict instructions by Robin to follow orders and not rip his stitches that she’s worked hard at keeping in tact by mounting the wall --

...“and be on the damn lookout only so help me god or else I’ll rip them back open myself,” she threatens him.

Eddie visibly swallows and nods at that, believing her.

Suddenly Nancy is walking up to you, as you stand there still hugging El while looking over Murray’s shoulder at his computer system setup. She looks nervous as you turn to her.

“Hey, umm, keep an eye on them, will you?” she asks shyly, sheepishly. “I worry about them. Especially Dustin.”

You know she meant Steve. “Yeah. Of course.”

Nancy nods awkwardly, grateful you didn’t correct her and a little embarrassed. She points to the gun on your back, giving you a tight-lipped grin. “Glad it’s you handling that bad boy.”

She flashes the same one across her back. You chuckle lightly, agreeing with her. “Yeah, the last thing we need is for Eddie to get his hands on this or else he’ll murder the whole town.”

Nancy giggles.

Eddie snickers at the joke, appreciating your dark humor. He gives you a wry smile. “Thanks princess, but I only prefer bone crushing, eye sucking curses.”

You all eat some whole wheat eggos (even El) and some scrambled eggs. Plenty of water, plus some coffee.

Steve walks in to scoop up his plate during the last 10 minutes, and Hopper takes pity on him — given that he’s been with the kids.

“You get an extra 5,” Hopper tells him.

“Appreciate it, Hop.” 

Steve carries his plate over to the table, moving to sit by you and Murray — who does his best to just stare down at his coffee and ignore catching this in his peripheral vision. Sip, slurp.

It’s a quiet breakfast. Tense. Stiff. Everyone is nervous. This stuff never does get easier…

***

The kids all boom back down the stairs, loud as ever.

And everyone is out the door on time, minus the extra 5 minutes that Hopper secretly gave for Steve’s benefit. Thankfully, it goes unremarked but the kids.

You all put their hands in a circle because Dustin insisted a while back that you cannot all part ways without a group huddle. So it’s now become tradition. Everyone fist bumps in unison, and the four groups embark on their separate journeys.

Group 1 does well, making it into town. They have the bottom tier level of risk, which Hopper did intentionally for Joyce and Will's sakes because those are his hearts. He also adores the two girls, Nancy and Robin, of course. They carefully fill up Joyce’s car in doses, trying not to attract attention as everyone has a strict evacuation mandate that goes into place next week along with a food supply limit. They’re ahead of the game, doing everything not to give away what Dr. Owens warned them about.

Group 2 is in full swing, back at Casa Harrington. Erica and Murray bicker like a married couple, but they also high five. Lucas makes sure that Max is safely tucked in, giving her a kiss on the forehead and a promise to be back upstairs in a few hours.

Group 3 is cautious. They have to calculate every single move, given the risks. El uses her senses to tap in, blindfold on and static on the van's radio ringing throughout the car. Mike keeps watch, along with Argyle at the wheel — and Hopper navigates.

Group 4, your group, is en route. You have the longest journey to make on foot, making sure to keep their strength. Jonathan keeps watch of time, and Dustin hangs into the walkie-talkie to keep contact. You scan the area, and so does Steve, as you all walk. Eddie sings to himself to keep from wigging out, and it’s definitely giving mumbled panic.

You are telling everyone the ETA, using the compass. Steve tells the gang to keep the same pace so that they make sure they aren’t there too soon or too late, wanting to time it right with Group 2’s orders.

At some point, you gesture for everyone to pivot directions, and when Steve steps in your direction — he instinctively reaches out to brush the small of your back. It’s so subtle… yet so telling.

Eddie cocks an eyebrow mid-song, ceasing the mumbling altogether for about 2 solid seconds, before resuming as he walks. Even Jonathan raises an eyebrow, silently smirking.

Dustin misses it entirely.

Then Dustin starts communicating back and forth on the walkie-talkie with Erica, and as they start to bicker Steve interjects.

“Hey, dingus, cool it and listen to what she’s saying, please.”

Dustin huffs, whining, “but she’s wronnnng...” 

You squint in the sunlight as you look back at him, saying simply, “Listen to your mother.”

Steve doesn’t even flinch. You both just look back at your son expectantly. Dustin sighs but obeys.

Oh that definitely makes Eddie and Jonathan share a look.

Back at base, Murray is struggling to access the switch for the electric fence closest to where Group 4 (you guys) is approaching. He and Erica work hard at it, and Lucas helps as he keeps open the line of communication with Dustin via the walkie-talkie.

“This east side gate is a bitch,” Murray is griping over the channel.  “Hang tight, just pause when you guys make it there.”

Dustin and Lucas are going back and forth, while Jonathan tries to keep up with what they are all saying. 

You can see the fence up ahead, and so does Steve. 

Eddie’s singing gets louder.

Nancy speaks over the walkie-talkie channel: “Group 1, reporting.  Over.” 

Dustin speaks.  “Group 4, tuned in.  Over.” 

The other groups tune in, too.  Nancy continues in a hushed voice.  “Food supply is running low so we’re going to double up.  The mandate will be really strict.  Can’t take chances.  Over.” 

Jonathan tells her to keep them posted with the ETA.

El comes onto the walkie-talkie, asking for you. 

You take it, speaking: “Bauman squared, I copy.  Over.” 

Eleven tells you that she can see you all headed there to the lab, and that no one is nearby.  You’re safe. 

Hopper adds: “But Eddie, make sure that you stay tuned into this channel and relay it to Dustin just in case.  Over.”

Eddie’s song of woe dies on his lips with an anxious exhale.  “Roger that, over.”

Steve speaks up, “Alright guys, we’re here.” 

Dustin signals Murray, right on cue.  You all stare up at the looming electric fence in front of you.  It’s tall.  At least 30 feet up.  You gulp.  So does Jonathan.  For Steve, it’s easy.  For Dustin, well, it’s exciting.

Jonathan adds to the relayed info, addressing Murray, saying, “Yeah, uhhh, it’s pretty high up man?” 

Murray’s tone comes through, crisp.  “How high is high?” 

Jonathan visibly shrinks back as he squints in the sunlight. “Like...25-30 feet?”

Murray curses on the other side, frustrated.  “Alright, hold please.”

Steve turns over to face you all, starting with you.  “It’s gonna be a helluva climb.”

You nod.  “We’ll have to double up the speed, guys.  But for safety, let’s just do two at a time.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows.  “Why?”

You tell them it’s safest this way.  This way, two people can gauge the timing of it just in case.  Dustin immediately demands to go in the first group, which Steve shuts down promptly — like all good mothers would with their favorite child.  He starts to onboard Jonathan, but you’re already saying you’ll go as you tighten up your bag.  Steve looks at you, hesitant. 

You look back at him, giving him a nod.  “No arguments.”

Steve sighs through his nose.  “Yeah, I figured as much.” 

He’s so sexy when he isn't actually hating you, and instead just consistently miffed with you…

“Group 4, listen up,” Murray’s voice comes over the walkie-talkie.  “I’m signaling the switch now.  On my mark, it will take exactly 3 minutes for it to activate.  You’ll have 60 seconds to climb it.  Up and down.  That’s it.  Remember what I said: haul ass.”

Dustin responded back with a sigh, “Steve and Bauman Squared insist on going two at a time so…”  He dreads the next question, cringing before asking.  “Any chance you guys can…do it…twice?”

You turn around, waiting to hear your uncle’s reply and wondering if you’ll need to step in.  His befuddled response confirms, yes you will, and you walk over to take the walkie.

“Uncle Murray, it’s not very sturdy.  It’s too big a risk, four at a time.  If you can’t do it, then just me and Steve will go.  What can we do?  Over.” 

You speak matter-of-factly, which Steve appreciates.  He stands with his hands on his hips and tongue between his teeth, all hot and mom-like.  Even though for you...he’s giving daddy.

Eddie has been pacing a trough into the grass.  Please let me have company, he thinks.

Jonathan’s just quiet, wondering if now is a good time to tell everyone that he’s actually afraid of heights. 

Dustin just wants to fucking climb already.

“Workin’ on it.  Standby.”  Your uncle’s monotone voice makes you all wait. 

You stare up at the fence while you do.  Then, turning your face over in Steve’s direction, you find that he’s already gazing over at you.  That fondness in his eyes is back, and you feel your cheeks flush under the sun.  But it’s not the sun making you blush.  Steve's hands are still on his tips, and he gives you a tiny wink before turning to look back at Dustin with the walkie-talkie.  He tells his kid not to stress about it if they can’t come, which only starts a back-and-forth argument between mother and son.  But Erica’s voice cuts through it over the walkie.

“Group 4 nerds, listen up.  We found a way to do it.  Over.”

Dustin pumps his fist in glee.  Jonathan doesn’t.  Eddie realizes he’s doomed, back to being there all alone. 

Steve takes the walkie, asking, “Same timeframes, Murray?  Over?” 

Your uncle confirms it, but then Lucas is in the background saying, “Wait, are you sure this will give them 60 seconds?” 

Steve raises an eyebrow at that.  But you’re looking at the top of the fence.  The end of the other side of the line is quiet for a hot minute.  No doubt, Murray and the kids are beefing.  Re-calculating.  Beefing some more.  Getting attitudes.  Then finally —

“Erica to group 4, confirming.  Timeframes are exact.  Wait for us to signal the 2nd climb.  Standby and brace for 1st climb.  Over.”

You and Steve look at each other.  Here we go.  He fastens his backpack, reaching out a hand to you and telling you to hand over yours.  You go to protest, but he’s just insisting without budging and reaching anyway.  It isn’t until his hand starts to slide the strap down your shoulder that you huff and relent. 

“30 seconds to climb.”

“There’s a ledge up there, wide enough to stand on.”  You nod up at it as you tell Steve.  “If we run low on time, we hang there until the 2nd climb.” 

Steve nods at you, agreeing.  He turns and relays that to a very anxious Jonathan and a very antsy Dustin.  You gesture over to Dustin, telling him to toss you his backpack.  Steve goes to argue but you hold up a hand. 

“Better me than him," you say quickly. It’s a parental thing that he would insist on too, so he lets you win that one. 

Dustin obeys after seeing mom agree with…um…dad? Are you dad?

“10 seconds to climb.”

Steve talks fast, in position to pounce.  “Eddie, on go, toss that branch to hit the fence.  Double check for sparks.”  Eddie nods, picking up the large branch nearby.  You get in position with Steve.

“5…4…3…2…1…climb!”

Eddie tosses the branch.  No electric shock.  All systems go.

You and Steve hop as high as you can, climbing up like champs.  You both hustle, swiftly making the climb like pro climbers.  Steve is faster, planning to reach down and lift you the rest of the way if he gets to the top first.  But you’re almost right at the same level with him, almost at the top.

…until your bag catches.

The strap of Dustin’s bag pulls you back down.  Air catches in your throat, no scream escaping your mouth as it swings you around, unhooks and makes you fall back some feet.  But you latch back onto the wall, back down to midway.  Fuck. 

Dustin gasps, Jonathan shouts your name.  Eddie starts his shit-shit-shit chant. 

You look down, realizing that it’s way too far of a drop to just fall back down and start over.  You are literally back to the mid-way point. 

You make up your mind within a few seconds: keep going.

Steve is hoisting himself up onto the thick ledge as this is happening, and when he turns to see you lower his heart stops. 

“Bauman, what happened??"

But you keep climbing, shouting, “Steve, just keep going.” 

But Steve is not having that.  He’ll fucking wait.  Hell, he’ll wait for Dustin too.  He’s staying put.  He shakes his head, clapping his hands and reaching for you even though you still have another fourth of the wall to mount before you reach him.

“30 more seconds.”  Oh thank God, that’s plenty.

”You got this, Bauman, c���mon...” Steve’s ready to hold you again.  Anxious.  So fucking anxious.

Dustin is cheering too, along with Eddie and Jonathan.  You’re fine.  Almost there.

You look at Steve at the top, leaning over the side looking down at you. You can see the anxious anticipation in his brown eyed gaze.

“20 more seconds.  Group 2, don’t forget to wait for our signal.”

But right as Murray stops talking — the wall buzzes. 

Everything happens in slow motion.  One second feels like a whole minute for all 5 of you in your group.  Your ears perk up at the sound.  That wasn’t an insect.  That’s mechanic.  That’s —

“Was that —”  Eddie barely started to ask the question you were all wondering.

“Fuck, Bauman — !!! ”  Jonathan’s voice is panicked with realization.

Steve’s brow furrowed, alarm and horror sweeping across his entire face.

You feel a scorch so hot, fire itself couldn’t have burned as badly as the electric shock that shot through your entire body did. 

In that single second, you felt your brain short circuit.

You felt your hands get shoved away from the wall, throwing you off with blinding force.

You felt your throat snap, and you felt your heart rumble inside of your chest...

And then you felt it stop.

*****************************

:( im sorry, Steve.

author notes: I am sure that the fence thing might be weird and not accurate, but it helped my vision for how this chapter goes down. so I hope you all will be kind and not find it too "unrealistic." had to watch some stuff like the OG Jurassic Park, and get ideas for it.

tag list: @erastourvip @get0ut0fmyr00m @xprloki @eddiemuns0nl0ver @marrowfrog00 @poppet05 @wiltedflowersundertowers

[flametrashiraarchive]

Hai um, can you do like, Rengoku x Reader who struggles with body insecurities? Mainly like, the tummy or back plush?

HELLO! Yea!

I did already do Rengoku x chubby!reader but I don't ever think there can be enough of the sunshine man, so yes, yes I can!

There are 3 things in Demon Slayer I refuse to accept: 1) that the breathing styles don't actually create the cool effects, 2) that thing about what happens after they activate the slayer marks, and 3) that Kyojuro has a six pack. My boy lives on copious amounts of carbs and fried food and has a little squish himself (also it just makes sense for a swordsman to have extra padding- would you rather get stabbed through your muscles and internal organs or a couple of inches of fat? Anyway...)

KYOJURO X CHUBBY READER- Tummy Edition.

(God I fucking love him)

NSFW beneath the cut. GN!Reader. TASTY.

You're at the kitchen sink washing sweet potatoes for dinner when Kyojuro comes up behind you and hugs as he often does, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pressing his lips to your neck.

He feels you tense up slightly. You stiffen in his arms and your hand defensively goes to capture his wrist.

He knows immediately what's wrong. He's very good at reading people and this has happened before. You're concerned about your tummy again.

"You're so beautiful," he assures you, his voice soft and low against that spot just below your ear. "Inside and out."

You try to cover your vulnerability with humor and hold up one of the vegetables in your hand. "Nah, I look like this."

His thick, black eyebrows slant in concern, "Now, sunflower, you know how I feel about sweet potatoes. They're beautiful too. But..." He loosens his hug a little to place his hand across your belly. "They're hard and un-cuddleable, and you're soft, so the comparison doesn't really hold up beyond you both being my favorites."

You smile and he leans into you, kissing your temple. "Did someone say something to hurt you?"

"No, it's just a feeling." You look down, as the weight of your insecurity crushes you.

"Hm," he hums thoughtfully.

He turns you round to face him and gets down on his knees, gazing up at you with adoration and reverence. He takes your hand in his and gives it a soft squeeze.

"I need you to listen to me, but I will repeat it as many times as you need me to. You are beautiful to me. I adore every aspect of you, and that includes your softness."

He tells you this with the utmost sincerity and gentle kindness, his thumb stroking circles on the back of your hand as he speaks.

And when he's done and you nod your head in understanding, he pulls you into an embrace, resting his cheek on your stomach and smiling to himself.

He's telling the truth too; he will absolutely tell you how wonderful you are to him however many times it takes and he means it wholeheartedly.

No matter what your insecurity is; your tummy, your back, arms, thighs, chest, he adores you and thinks you're the most wonderful person. His very favorite person, in fact.

Now... when it comes to insecurities about your body during sex, Kyojuro is just as supportive, but he will show you how much he appreciates your body, as well as simply telling you.

OBVIOUSLY Kyojuro is King of Going Down and he will happily spend forever between your thighs, but if you're self conscious about your tummy he's gonna make a little stop there first.

He'll kiss it all over telling you how gorgeous you are, that you're precious and wonderful and worthy.

He'll get so wrapped up in your loveliness he'll forget how loud he is.

*kiss* BEAUTIFUL! *kiss* GORGEOUS! *kiss* SEXY!!

You laugh because your lovely man is just so effusive with his love and appreciation of you, and it's impossible not to feel it.

And then he'll wipe that smile off your face as his kisses trail lower...

While he's going down on you, he'll lay his arm over your stomach. Since he can't hear well (especially with your thighs cradling the sides of his head) your belly tells him a lot about how you're enjoying yourself.

He pays attention to the rhythm of your breaths, the tension in your muscles and the way your soft body moves with them.

He LOVES the way your lower belly tenses when you're right on the brink.

And when he's made you cum he'll make sure you're fucked right.

He never gives you less than his all.

He'll either press down into you, relishing the soft, plush warmth of your body against his

or he'll have you ride him; half-closed fiery eyes drinking in the sight of you, hypnotized by the way you move.

"Beautiful~" he whispers, because he simply cannot hold that thought in.

He just adores you.

No matter what, his love for you burns bright, and he'll spend his life trying to get that fire to spread to your heart too.

[kanencrow]

The Devil's Lettuce - Natalie Scatorccio | One Shot

Summary: You wake up from a nightmare that leaves you rocked and puts you into a state of restlessness, and Natalie comforts you in the only way she knows how.

Warnings: Smoking, Swearing.

A/N: All characters are 18+ by default. Is it surprising if I say that this is another one shot that I had laying around in my drafts for the past year and a half? No? Maybe? Yes? Anyway, here this is for anyone who's wanting some Nat-Scat content.

Word Count: 2900+

You shot up from the floor with a sharp gasp.

The world around you was dark as your hands slammed against the floor to brace yourself the moment you sat up. You hunkered your head low and panted sharply, and you swore you created holes in the blanket you laid on when your fingers curled in to grip the fabric. You attempted to ground yourself, and your wish of calming down seemed to come true on its own when you felt a hand gently rest itself on your shoulder. The touch was firm, but it didn't hurt you. Instead, it snapped you out of your fear, and it forced you to lift your chin up and look forward, only to meet the comforting eyes of Natalie, who stared at you with a profound amount of concern in her gaze.

"You okay?"

You immediately shook your head and shuddered out what you could only describe as a breath. You were certain that you sounded as though you had been strangled and were attempting to get your bearings back. Natalie seemed to understand such, when she shuffled closer to you, squeezing between your right leg and the wall you slept next to, and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to pull you into her collarbone. You allowed her to do so, while her other limb wrapped around your body, holding you in a hug that you knew was going to eventually become uncomfortable with the way you both were positioned.

Still, even with that backend thought, you melted into her physical comfort and closed your eyes, as you attempted to overcome the fear that your nightmare instilled in you. You couldn't cry, or even speak about what you dreamt, but it was clear that Natalie wasn't planning on questioning you. She simply clutched you tight and looked towards the ladder that led up to the attic – the same attic where Taissa had found the body of the person who once lived in the cabin. Just before you woke, she had to soothe Lottie, who wouldn't stop staring at the same spot. A part of her was glad that you were unbothered by the fact that the man who owned the home you all stayed in was dead.

Though, then again, maybe your nightmare was due to what happened a day ago.

Maybe seeing the skeletal remains of the man had done something to your psyche. But whatever it was, it was clear that it had affected you intensely. And it made Natalie's grip around you tighten in turn. It was a mindless action on her part, but it wasn't one you felt any discontent towards. You melted into the feeling, like ice touching fire, and she could gather an immediate change in your demeanor when your heavy, fearful breathing slowed down into very quiet, almost mute pants. There was a part of her that wanted to understand whatever had gone on inside of your head, but she didn't want to be the one to question you.

She didn't want to beg for your vulnerability.

She wanted it to come naturally. And she was more than willing to wait.

It wasn't like she was going anywhere.

After a moment, you became antsy, and Natalie's arms eventually fell down from your body when you pulled away from her. With your legs once resting over her own, you brought them back to cross them over the other, closing in on yourself in a way, while she scrutinized your quiet demeanor. You seemed like you were in deep thought, your head lowered as you stared at the floor, and your fingers fidgeting together while you slowly gathered your bearings. Her palms rested in her lap as she watched you silently, and it took you a few more long seconds to inevitably speak up, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you."

You were sheepish in nature, and she could recognize it easily. You wore your emotions on your sleeves, which didn't seem like a common occurrence with you. Granted, she didn't know you well, but she had seen and spoken to you enough to where she had the ability to read your personality. Not always was she correct in her assumptions of you, but with this, it was clear that she had come out correct in her opinion of you. You were embarrassed by the fact that you received comfort from the girl you admired, and although Natalie wasn't entirely open with her feelings, she was glad that she swallowed her nervousness and tended to your residual fear of whatever you experienced throughout your slumber.

She wasn't entirely certain what had compelled her to comfort you.

But she didn't regret it.

"Don't worry about it."

Natalie's voice rasped out, and it unconsciously comforted you, as you slowly lifted your head up to meet her eyes. You remembered them being a hazel blue, with the darker azure being the hue that dominated most of her iris. They were comforting to look at, even though the darkness shadowed them. She sent you a small smile, awkward, but attempting to comfort you with the softness she tried to portray. You quirked the corners of your lips up in response to her expression, and when she realized you weren't planning on saying anything, she took the lead as she leaned forward.

"Wanna head outside?" she asked you, "Get some fresh air?"

You inhaled quietly when the warm breath that escaped Natalie's mouth hit your face. She was close, close enough to where if you leaned farther forward, you could touch the tip of your nose with her own. It was as though she were sharing a secret with you. She almost looked up into your eyes, in a way, with the way her body was slightly hunched, just so she could understand how you were feeling based on the micro-expressions that washed over your features. Even though the nightmare still lingered in the back of your mind, haunting you with the memory of what happened, the sudden intimacy in proximity dominated your brain, like fire engulfing an oil puddle.

"That... that sounds nice, yeah."

Your eventual response earned the ghost of a smile from Natalie, before she hiked her knees up to her chest and pushed herself to her feet. Your own eyes followed her as she did so, and it caused your chin to tilt up, just so your gaze could remain connected with her own, even though the light of the world was lackluster. In the span of a few milliseconds, you hesitated to grab her hand when she held it out to you, unsure if you should even bother going outside, but you realized that you were no longer tired, and it was clear that the girl who awaited you wasn't either. She was patient while you mulled over your internal thoughts, but you didn't want her to wait for the rest of her life, so you raised your arm up and allowed her fingers to engulf your palm, hoisting you up to your full height quietly.

The task of you and her sneaking your way out of the cabin came easy. The door clicked softly behind Natalie as she trailed behind you, her eyes focused on you while you lowered yourself down to sit at the ledge of the porch, to the left of the steps that led down to the leveled ground in front of the small building. You had created a gap big enough for her to squeeze into, while your shoulder leaned up against the wooden pole to your left, using it as your own form of leverage. It didn't take long before she eventually came forward to sit down beside you, and she made her presence known with the quiet sigh that escaped her the moment she settled herself onto the wooden deck.

The forest was entirely quiet. The only thing you could hear was the sound of the wind and the occasional coo from an owl, or the distant chirp of a bird. It was... peaceful, considering the circumstances. The ambiance of the nightly hour brought your mind to a calm place. Inhaling the scents that wafted throughout the woods, and feeling the gust of the air that brought a chill down your spine aided you in feeling real. You eventually fluttered your eyes shut and rested your hands against the ledge of the porch, becoming one with the atmosphere you had no choice but to live in.

Natalie turned her head in the slightest, just to take in the sight of your side profile, watching you subtly as you and she sat alone in silence. It wrapped the two of you up like a blanket. It wasn't awkward. There was no need to try and break the mute air with verbal statements and hums of mindless conversation. She let you take the lead here. She didn't want to question you like some sort of detective attempting to solve a mystery. Though she couldn't deny that she wanted to get to know more of you.

She didn't know why she was so curious. Maybe it was because you were the only person here she didn't know anything about. You were the photographer for the Yellowjackets, the team that she played on, yet you were an enigma to her. Shouldn't she have known more about you? She should have befriended you, right? It was what she was obligated to do with the other people on her team. Granted, you only took photos of her and her teammates, but now that you all were stranded in the forest... maybe it would have been a good idea to try and delve deep into who you were as a person.

But she was almost too shy to speak up and take the initiative.

That was unlike her.

"Do you have any smokes?"

When you spoke up, your voice was so sudden to her ears that it caused Natalie to flinch in her spot. She blinked, snapping back into reality, and since she was already staring at you, it only took a simple shift of her pupils to genuinely set her attention on you. You continued to stare out towards nothing in particular, just admiring the rows of trees and the star-covered sky. However, when you didn't get a verbal response from the bleach-blonde beside you, you slowly turned your head to look at her, your eyebrows faintly furrowing in perplexion.

"Nat?"

Hearing you say her name made her stomach flutter, and she quickly cleared her throat before she could dwell on the odd feeling she felt course throughout her body. "Oh, uh... yeah, totally." Surprisingly, she remembered what you were correlating your earlier question to, and so it didn't take her long before she reached into her right pajama pant pocket and tugged out the cardboard pack of cigarettes. It was the first thing she went to grab when she trailed behind you while the two of you first exited the cabin. A joint always managed to calm her down when she was feeling particularly stressed after a nightmare. She was tempted to smoke one when she first woke up from her own, but then she had to deal with Lottie.

And then you.

But it wasn't like she resented either of you for it.

At least she got to indulge now.

"You know how, right?" Natalie asked you, as you mindlessly scooted closer to her, which caused your shoulder and arm to press against her own. She welcomed the touch by ignoring it and pulling out a rolled-up joint from the depths of her carton, and as she shifted the stick into the hand that held the lighter, she closed the lid of her pack and shoved it back into her pocket blindly.

"I only know the stances," you answered sheepishly, after a moment. Your voice came out as a whisper, almost murmuring into the side of her face with the way you leaned down to watch the way her fingers moved.

The warmth of your breath against her skin wasn't something that bothered her, though. Still, she let out an amused huff at your reply to her question. "Stances?" she repeated, all while bringing her joint into her right hand, and allowing her thumb to settle onto the sparkplug of her lighter that sat in her left. "What do you mean by stances?" she asked you, pausing what she was doing to steal a glance at your face.

It was difficult, though, with how dark the world was.

"You know, like..." you shrugged your shoulders subtly and pursed your lips, "when someone smokes, there's like a particular way that they stand and hold their cigarette." You paused to hear her reaction, and when she let out a quiet laugh, you smiled softly, the expression small and one that she couldn't notice, due to the proximity. "I mean, I did say that I wasn't much of a smoker."

"You did," Natalie agreed, remembering a previous – albeit short – conversation between you and her, before she inevitably straightened her posture. It caused you to lean away slightly, as you watched her raise the thinned end of the joint to her lips. And just as they parted, she paused to look at you, silently calling for your undivided attention. "Just – uh... watch how I do it, alright?"

You nodded your head, and with your quiet response, she settled the narrowed tip of the rolled-up piece of paper in her mouth, before she thinned her lips and flicked the spark wheel of her lighter with the pad of her thumb. After the second roll, a short but bright flame emitted from the top of it, and it cast hints of light onto her pale features, as she brought the small fire to the front of her joint.

It didn't seem to take very long before the front of the makeshift cigarette caught the flame. It burned, with a quiet crackle that took away the silence between you and Natalie, and you leaned forward slightly to watch the way she lightly sucked in, inhaling smoke. She pulled the end of the joint out of her mouth shortly after, and the grey cloud of air followed when she parted her lips slightly and blew.

It looked so seamless when she did it.

When Natalie handed the joint over to you, you grabbed it like how she did. With your thumb and index finger. It was small, but it seemed like it packed a punch. You gazed down at the little thing with confusion on your features, and it caused the girl beside you to laugh, as she scooted closer to you and urged you on with her hand coming up to nudge your wrist. "Come on. You don't want to let the weed burn." You flickered your eyes up to meet her own, and she stared at you softly. Even though a hint of amusement remained in her irises, her focus on you made you feel better, and more eager to do as she suggested.

You raised the end of the joint up to your own lips and parted them, before closing them around the same place Natalie had just touched with her own. You didn't know what you were doing, though when you heard her quietly tell you to 'suck,' you obeyed. You felt her hand rest on your knee, just as the smoke invaded your mouth, and she refused to evade her eyes from your own when your pupils dilated. You felt the contaminated air fall down your throat and into your lungs, stinging your insides and staining them with irreparable damage. You made sure to pace yourself, when you gently blew out the small cloud that remained, lowering your chin slightly, just so it didn't hit the blue-eyed girl in front of you.

You felt spacey, as Natalie reached out and gently plucked the joint from between your fingers, her palm still resting on your thigh while her skin brushed against your own. Maybe it was a placebo effect, or maybe whatever was in that smoke worked fast, but you could already feel yourself relaxing, as you distractedly watched her part her lips and take a drag of the makeshift cigarette. She inhaled the smoke as though she was a professional, and you were certain she was, when she exuded the remaining air she had taken in, and sent you a comforting grin. You felt her hand squeeze your leg shortly after, and it caused you to subtly jump in turn, which earned a raspy giggle from her.

"You sure you haven't done that before?" Natalie asked you with a simple raise of her brow. And you grinned softly at her in turn, as you shrugged your shoulders and leaned back on your palms, feeling the wooden grain of the porch below you.

"Pretty... sure."

You slurred your words, which caused Natalie to let out a chuckle.

"You're already high as shit."

And you let out a laugh in response, as your eyes drooped to show your loopiness.

"I know."

But it wasn't a thing that forced you and her to go back inside.

You and Natalie relished in the time alone.

Letting the smoke rise away from your lips, as it acted as an invisible beacon to the sky.

One that nobody was going to see, except you and the girl beside you.

[hanckocks-dagger]

oh, the night's so blue

masterlist

John hancock x f!reader

Description: After a drunken one night stand with your boss and mayor, you'd planned on hiding out in your room for several months. Those plans get delayed when Nate, general of the Minutemen and your childhood friend, asks you to join him on a quest in the west of the Commonwealth.

Tags: Drunken one night stand, Hancock is a pining simp, and a slut. Reader is not SoSu, has afab characteristics and is referred to with she/her pronouns through the story. No y/n

Warnings: Smut! Drunk sex, consentual but I'll throw in the dubcon tag anyway, talk of violence, guns and drugs a lá Fallout ofc

Word count: 6.1K

Notes: So this is a one-shot that sort of feeds into an idea I've had in my head for a while, of a reader that knew Nate from before the bombs, who either ended up in Vault 111 as well or something similar, but got out about a year before Nate did. This might end up turning into a series of semi-connected one-shots or I might just cut it off here, but I definitely have some other ideas for this story rolling around in my head. More story focused than some of my other fics, delving a bit more into what actually living in the game's story would be like, but of course a hefty dose of our lovely Hancock. But I really like Nate, and I didn't want to make the reader the Sole Survivor so we could see the two of them interact. Also my Nate build is usually high charisma, high strength and low intelligence (idiot savant perk ofc), so he's a bit of a himbo <3 my fav type of man.

Also just a small and totally irrelevant thing, but I headcanon Nate/the sole survivor as choosing not to smoke, just because the player isn’t able to smoke in the game. Just a fun tidbit I threw in there. Also, I’m a smoker and I have friends who aren’t and the relentless back and forth teasing is always fun. They all vape anyway, so it’s just a race for who gets cancer first lmao. 

Cross posted on my ao3!

"What's the status on the top shelf stuff?" You yelled out from the back room, wiping drops of sweat from your forehead before they could drop into your eyes. Sure, the new beer tap was ingenious, making the closest thing to actual fresh beer since you'd come out on this side of the cryo-chamber, but goddamn were the canisters heavy.

"Almost out of moonshine, luv," Charlie called from the bar, tinny cockney accent carrying through the open space.

That was fine, you could drop by and speak to Vadim tomorrow before opening, as long as Hancock could supply the caps and lend you some help to carry the bottles back.

"Anything else?" You grunted, heaving a full canister back out to the front, bending down to connect the pipes.

"I think you should start carrying some Fireball, I know how much you used to like it," A new voice spoke up from the other side of the bar, startling you into banging your head on the underside of the bartop. You cursed, shooting to your feet, finding a ginning, familiar face on the other side.

"Nate!"

He said your name back with the same amount of enthusiasm, slouched in one of the barstools, familiar bright blue vault suit looking a little worse for wear.

"When did you get in? How did you get in?" You asked, eyes flitting about. Sure enough, there in the background, spread over one of the couches was mayor Hancock, speaking with a smiling Magnolia and a broody looking MacReady.

"Just landed in town, figured I'd come say hi before crashing at the Rexford."

"Well, shit," You breathed, wiping your sweaty hands on a dishrag, "Can I get you a drink? I want to hear about this oh-so-secret mission you were on."

"Sure, I'll take a beer."

You fished over a clean-ish looking glass, gave it a quick wipe for good measure, and poured. The movements were practiced, muscle memory from a lifetime ago taking over as you tilted the glass, filled it, flicked the spout the other way for some top foam. You slid it over the bar, accepting Nate’s smile as payment. 

You grabbed yourself a glass, calling out to Charlie as you filled the glass with ice, “I’m calling it a night, just leave me a list of whatever needs to be done in the morning.

You poured yourself some of the top shelf stuff, nothing good by pre-war standards, but nowadays it was rare and mostly didn't taste like it was 200 years old.

You stepped around the bar, planning on planting yourself on a stool next to Nate, but he was already rising to his feet, heading for the rest of the group.Hiding your awkwardness, you trailed after him. You knew MacReady tangentially, sometimes bringing him drinks into the backroom, keeping an eye out for disagreements and sometimes running up to get Ham when things were getting out of hand. Magnolia was your coworker of course, and there was plenty to talk about after long shifts, but she was– technically speaking– about twenty years your senior, and married to her job in a way you weren't.

Then there was Mayor Hancock. A charming flirt at the best of times, happy to stand up for you on the job, as the owner of the bar, after all, but there was always something about him you never managed to crack, never straying away from genial small talk. Small talk, of course, these days, meant discussing the last Super Mutant raid, or let him rattle off about his favorite chems. As you approached, he tipped his hat at you and you responded with a little curtsy, using your free hand to tug on your apron like a skirt. 

You fell onto the couch beside Nate, stirring your drink with a finger, using your other hand to untie the apron around your waist. Being off your feet felt good. There were no clocks in the Third Rail, and no windows, so your sense of time tended to get a bit skewed, but seeing as Ham usually tossed out the stragglers by 5 am and you'd had a mess and a half to clean up, you assumed it must be closing in on dawn. A rough 12 hour shift made your liquor feel earned, as you sipped at it, feeling the warmth spread through your chest.

"So," You said, catching Nate's attention before he could get sucked into the others' conversation, "What was the notorious General of the Minutemen up to this week? Liberating some more settlements?"

"Mmm, actually doing some work for the Railroad," His tone went hushed, unnecessary and strangely endearing, as everyone in the bar knew and was at least non-committal about their activities.

"Ahh," You replied, matching his tone. "Did it go well?"

"It went fantastically. I brought my own team in," He motioned with his beer toward Hancock and MacCready, "But we ended up getting some help from another agent, too. And, man, what a lady," he went a bit starry eyed, making you laugh.

"Got a little crush, Nathaniel?"

He snorted, and you spotted the tinge of red in his cheeks with glee. 

"Nothing like that, but what a powerhouse. You should have seen her, mowing them down with a minigun."

"Don't sell yourself short, Nate, I've seen you in Power Armor before. Unstoppable force and all that."

Ever humble, Nate's cheeks turned rosier, and he glanced down at his drink. You watched his Adam's apple bob, the shy smile that graced his features.

To put him out of his misery, you turned to the group at large, "So, does this mean you've returned our beloved mayor back, or are you heading out again?"

Hancock's attention snapped up from MacReady so he could grin at you, "What, you missed me doll?"

"Well, you do sign my paychecks," You smiled back at him, then remembered, "Oh, yeah, speaking of, I have to go over to Diamond City tomorrow to get more of Bobrov's best, maybe I can steal Nate to help me ferry it all back."

He hummed, "What d'ya say, brother? 100 caps to keep my favorite employee safe?"

From behind the bar, Charlie gave his best impression of a grunt, "I resent that, mayor!"

"'M sorry, Charlie, you just don't have her charm."

"Or her tits," Magnolia chimed in, twirling an unlit cigarette in her fingers as she smirked at you.

You flushed, eyes flitting around, finally landing on Hancock and MacReady's empty glasses, "Refills, boys?"

"Thought you'd clocked out," MacReady said, even as he handed over his glass. "Well, I'm the club's ambassador even after hours, gotta keep the reputation up."

"You best not be giving free drinks to every sorry brother that walks in here," Hancock called after you as you stepped behind the bar.

"Mm, no," You sing-songed back, "Only my favorites."

The night passed easily. You stayed by Nate’s sidelistening to him tell tales of the people he'd been meeting, the farm he recruited for the minutemen last week. He didn't delve too far into this last mission, always the good soldier who followed orders. You spent about twenty minutes trying to guess his secret Railroad code name.

"Mmmm, buttercup."

"Not even close."

"Sugar bomb?"

The look of offense he gave you was so scathing it had you spitting out half your beer over the table, doubled over in laughter as he complained.

"It relates to my prowess as an agent, not some pre-war pet name!"

"Fine, fine, uhhhh. Striker? Shadow? Tank?"

"Honestly, these are terrible. Never open a baby naming business."

"Uhm, excuse you," You said, taking a sip of beer to try and reduce the heat in your cheeks, "I would make excellent raider names. Chainsaw, evil-eye, uhhhhh," You cast your eyes around, searching for inspiration, "Ricky."

"Ricky?" MacReady asked, eyebrows knit in confusion, "What's wrong with Ricky?"

"Dunno," You shrugged, "Doesn't he just sound like an asshole?" You put on an air, repeated 'Ricky' in an ominous voice, which got MacReady and Nate to crack up again.

Magnolia vanished up to the surface after a bit of flirting with Hancock, insisting on her beauty sleep. As was your usual, you whistled after her, calling lewd, joking comments as she walked up the steps. As was her usual, she gave you a scowl and the middle finger.

"Ehhh, I'll get her to crack one of these days," You murmured into your beer, that tipsy, never ending giddy smile stuck on your lips. You caught Hancock's eye where he sat, now alone on the couch, spread eagle with his gangly limbs. When he spotted you, he gave you a grin, cigarette in his teeth.

Suddenly you desperately wanted a smoke. You patted your own pockets, found that you'd left them at home. You cursed the you from the morning for whatever logic had made that choice, suddenly desperate for nicotine.

Your head, resting against the back of the couch, lolled to look over at Nate. Who, of course, didn't and had never smoked. Goody-two-shoes.

So, you clambered to your feet, ignoring the ache that made itself apparent, and collapsed over besides Hancock.

"Does the good mayor have some cigarettes to share?" You asked, hand on his knee, leaning in close to be heard over a playful argument MacReady and Nate had started.

Hancock's smile got wider somehow, those deep dark eyes crinkling at the corner, giving the appearance of crow's feet.

"For you? Always." He dug around in the deep pocket's of that crazy coat, pulling out a cigarette case. Instead of handing you one, though, he plucked the one from his mouth and stuck it into yours.

Brain slowed by a long shift and plenty of alcohol, it took a moment for the action to catch up with, fingers rising slowly to pluck at the cigarette. You blinked at him, but he seemed unphased, pulling out another cigarette from his case and lighting it.

You leant back in the couch as your brain caught up on his move, staring blankly at a gesturing Nate, MacReady equally engrossed, somehow having missed the interaction that now had your brain reeling. Hancock's arm was stretched out behind you, tantalizingly close, fingers almost tickling the hairs at the back of you neck. You felt the chill of goosebumps, shook off the urge to shiver.

You puffed at the cigarette instead, slowly sinking back in the couch, reverting back to the sort of talk you were used to with the mayor, "How'd you like the trip? Nice to get out of the city?"

Hancock took it in stride, as he did everything, "Oh, yeah. Makes you forget what's out there, staying too long in these walls."

You hummed your assent. You stuck to Goodneighbor because you wanted to stay alive. The furthest you'd ventured in the last year was scoping out that brewery for the Rexford. But Hancock was a ghoul, and even so was more careless with safety than anyone else you knew. Getting out of the city, with only yourself and the stars as company... it was a romantic idea.

"So, what, we're gonna become the Railroad's home base now?" You teased,

"Not exactly," Hancock replied, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette, "But Nate knows his shit, and he trusts them. They're doing good, dontcha think?"

You considered this, rolling it around in your liquor soaked brain, "I guess it depends on whether you think the synths are just robots or... y'know, slaves being put through just as much pain as we are."

Hancock nodded, eyes trained on you, expression curious. For all his flirting, Hancock was easily one of the more respectable men you'd met, always willing to listen, even if he was usually a bit too out of his mind to interpret it. He was whip-smart, too, when he was sober enough to put a thought together.

"I suppose it depends on if you believe in the soul. Do you, Mayor Hancock?" Some deep-seated, long ago buried urge reared his head. You remembered being a kid, sitting in a diner with high-school friends, batting your eyelashes at a crush of yours, a coy smile on your face, trying for a sultry voice and missing it by a mile. But now you were about two hundred years older, and had a few years of experience under your back.

So when you looked at Hancock through lidded eyes, purposely hollowed your cheek as you sucked on your cigarette, the one that had been in his mouth before yours, you could appreciate his reaction. The widening of his eyes, the way the hand behind your head seemed to move just a bit closer, the minute shift of his hips as his body turned further towards you.

"I think I'm a bit too sober for those kinds of questions," He snickered. Being a Ghoul made determining age difficult, but sometimes you were sure Hancock was young, younger than you even, the way he carried himself, the carelessness of a teenager.

You smiled back, soft, put your cigarette out in an ashtray on the table, picking up your glass instead.

Hancock said your name, sultry, and that hand finally brushed your shoulder, a gentle, teasing touch.

You answered with a smile, a tilted, " John," followed by a sip from your drink, one you concentrated all your effort into drinking as normally as you could. If you let your tongue slide over your lips to catch the lingering taste, well, no one had to know.

"You know," You said, voice hushed as if you were revealing a great secret, "I feel like I don't know you well enough. You haven't been around enough since you hired me."

"I knew I left the bar in good hands," As if to prove his point, his fingers teased over your bare forearm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "Maybe, I should- ah- give you a tour of the Old State House sometime."

The innuendo was painfully obvious, accompanied by a lecherous wink, but you felt your face flush anyway, ridiculously charmed by his brazenness.

Charlie ended up kicking the four of you out, insisting on sweeping before the sun came up. On the way up the stairs, conspicuously a few steps behind Nate and MacReady, the two of you got a bit too handsy, after you'd spent the last couple of minutes petting the velvet of his coat, hypnotized by the luxurious softness of the ancient costume, as Hancock rattled off history facts about Boston, some of which you'd half remembered from history class.

"Found the old fucker's diary in a closet on the second floor," He'd said, as your fingers traced down his arms, across his chest, barely disguised fascination. You wanted to steal his hat, tuck it onto your hair, flick it the way Hancock often did.

"That old bastard was– was kinkier than you could ever imagine," His voice stuttered as your fingers traced near his navel, studying the stitching on the waistcoats he wore.

"Oh yeah?" You snickered, loose enough with drinks to lose your impulse control chasing after whatever felt good in the moment. Mostly that had been cigarettes, but now it was the idea of kissing him, of feeling that mouth on you, anywhere.

"The mayor of Goodneighbor," You breathed, smoothing out his collar, "Keeping himself busy with five hundred year old porn."

Hancock laughed with you.

Outside, the two of you stumbled apart, leaning against the brick wall to share a cigarette, Nate and MacReady somehow still talking, even if Nate was shooting you curious glances and MacReady smirked every time your eyes passed over him.

Eventually, though, when a too loud sentence awoke a grumbling drifted who threatened to hurl a bottle at Nate, it was time to call it a night.

Nate clapped Hancock on the shoulder and kissed your cheek, which got him a punch on the arm, a bit harder than you meant to with the alcohol in your system. He took it like a champ, of course, calling out, "Have fun!" As he rounded the corner towards the Rexford.

MacReady vanished with a tip of his cap, leaving you with smoke in your mouth and the morning sun in your eyes.

"You want to take that tour now, doll?" The brush of a teasing hand over your lower back.

You thought about your dusty apartment, of waking up in a few hours to repeat the same shift for the millionth time. A cold bed, empty.

"Yeah," You breathed, hand catching on the fluttering sash around Hancock's waist, setting a firm pace and tugging him along with you like a dog on his leash. His hands found your hips before you even made it to the door, pinning you against the old wood to kiss you, deep and warm and wet. Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, till you stood hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest.

Somehow, one of you got the door open, falling through the door, walking each other in an embrace towards the staircase. The kiss deepened, Hancock licked into your mouth as you bumped into the banister, struggled to keep your balance.You let him lead, pushing you backwards up the stairs, hands always gentle, ready to catch you if you tripped.

It was a drunken fumble, your shirt rucked up, trying to get all his stupid buttons unbuttoned as you staggered to the stairs, his lips suddenly attached to your neck.

His hands moved to your exposed waist as you reached the second floor, greedy hands moving over the expanse of skin. You huffed against his mouth, finding it unfair as you struggled to even get under his ridiculous fucking shirt, finally managing to sneak a hand under it, nails gently scratching against rough skin. You weren't exactly versed in Ghoul anatomy, but you'd heard enough complaining from drifters at the bar about the lack of feeling in their skin to know you'd have to push a little deeper, press a little harder. Sure enough, as Hancock lead you stumbling towards his bedroom, you pushed your hand up to his chest, pressing down into the meat of one of his shoulders, you received a deep groan against your mouth.

Then suddenly you were in the Mayor's bedroom. Clean enough, by the wasteland standards. Strewn with chems, as you'd anticipated, but the bed looked as clean as you could be.

Hancock had ended up behind you, hands sneaking around to your ass, your collar pushed to the side so he could kiss the exposed skin of your shoulder. It felt... nice. Soft. Softer than you'd anticipated from him. It sent an ache through you, not to your core, though electricity tingled, desperate for attention you hadn't provided it with in years. The ache was in your heart, extending out to your lungs, stealing your breath the way his kisses had, as he gently guided you towards the bed.

You spun around in his arms to capture his lips again, nipping at his bottom lips, hands moving to his waist, sneaking down into his waistband. The two of you danced around the room, lips locked, hands moving as clothes were unbuttoned, tossed to the side, shoes pulled off.

Then you were naked, falling onto a surprisingly plush mattress, as Hancock dropped his coat onto the back of his desk chair, pants unbuttoned and half falling off his skinny hips. He left the hat on, even as he stripped everything else off, and it made you huff a quiet, airy giggle. He grinned back at you, always happy to be happy, as he crawled on top of you, bracketing you between his legs.

His dick was the same as the rest of him, scarred and pocked, but you found you didn't mind in the slightest as your hands wandered downwards, teasingly gentle touches running over him, drawing out airy breaths and groans.

You were quick to guide him into you, pulling him down for a kiss when he entered you, sending shocks of burning pain through you, uncomfortable but manageable. Still, he noticed, unfocused eyes blinking down at you, a frown on his face.

"What's wrong?" "Nothing's wrong," You breathed, even through the tension of your muscles, "Just– uh– been a while. Gimme a moment."

He seemed unsure for a moment, looking as if he wanted to pull out, but you forced a calm through your muscles, slowly feeling him inch his way further inside, until the two of you were hip to hip. You breathed through the sting, shutting your eyes and guiding his face to your neck, happy when he got the hint and nipped at your skin. Your breath got shaky when he found a perfect spit by the junction of your neck and your shoulder, feeling his teeth sink into the flesh, soothed quickly with his tongue, with his spit-slick lips.

"Okay," You breathed eventually, one hand holding the back of his neck, the other clutching at the muscle on his back, "You can move."

"Are you–"

"Hancock," You said, voice firm. In a more sober state, his caution would touch you, but you were desperate to feel the drag of him, to feel his hips working. "I'm a big girl, it's okay. You can move."

He bent down to kiss you as he slowly pulled his hips back. With conscious effort to keep your muscles calm, your side of the kiss was a bit half hearted, but you gasped into his mouth as he pushed back in, the stretch not painful but, "So fucking perfect," You breathed, "Just like that."

Hancock was amazingly receptive, somehow cataloging every moan and twitch, and he had you pushed into the mattress within minutes, gasping and shaking beneath him. His hips drove into you at a perfect pace, his mouth moving to your tits, gentle bites at the soft skin, pulling your nipples into his mouth to flick at them with his tongue. Your whispered words of direction quickly dissolving into moans and gasps of his name.

Almost the exact second the thought of your clit popped into your head, his fingers were there, moving tight circles, pressure just the right side of too hard. You arched into him, a moan so loud it would have made you self conscious if you weren't too focused on driving him deeper, getting him closer, getting as much of his skin on you as you could.

Your orgasm approached with mounting tension in your muscled, strangled cries of more, harder, "Please, John."

You came with a strangled cry, every muscle in your body tensing and then going completely limp, gasps of air as your peak faded, replaced by a pleasant buzzing sensations. John's pace slowed as you shook, hands leaving your clit to grab at your hips, pull you towards him as he chased his own release. You were happy to let him, your hands exploring him leisurely, gripping at his biceps, his shoulders, wrapping around his neck to guide him into another kiss.

You could tell when he got close, the way his hips jerked, thrusts growing rushed and sloppy, desperate, the way his breath quickened, the way his dark eyes seemed to darken even further. At the last moment, he pulled out, wrapping his hand around his cock, haphazard pace the same as he fucked into his fist, a few more pumps and he came over your stomach. You tensed under the surprising heat of it, but relished the soft groan that escaped his mouth, head tilted back, mouth open,

He half collapsed on top of you, breathing against your mouth, only his arms holding him from falling into you. With every inhale, his expanding chest brushed against your breasts, every touch sending electric shots through you.

He collapsed beside you, still panting, one arm curling around your chest, just under your tits, pulling you into his side. "Just– give me a second, I'll get you something to clean up."

"Mmm," You breathed, relishing the heat of him, positive he was warmer than a normal person, the way it radiated off him, heating your skin at the contact points, "Don't worry about it. Deal with it in the morning." Your words were slurring, eyelids heavy.

"Mmm," Hancock agreed, tucking his face into your shoulder. He held you tight, like little kids held onto teddy bears. It was... nice. Unfamiliar to you, but, as you buried your head into the soft pillow, you supposed it was something you wouldn't mind getting used to.

You woke with a start, unfamiliar footsteps thudding above your head. It took a moment to reorient yourself, to recognize the walls you were blinking at, the hand tucked around your waist, the soft snores in your ear. Your head thudded, your mouth dry as a desert, tasting like cigarettes and whiskey. 

"Shit," You whispered, slowly extracting yourself from Hancock's warm arms, getting to your feet. Stark naked. Your pants were slung over a chair, one sock still in the pant leg, the other tossed onto a desk, surrounded by several tins of mentats and empty jet canisters.

"Fuck," You breathed, hopping around trying to get your socks on. One of your boots was on its side, halfway under the bed. Your shirt was hanging on the fucking doorknob and you tugged it on, ignoring the stale smell of sweat and alcohol that clung to it from last night’s shift.

You swept the room, but couldn't for the life of you find your underwear. The thought of leaving them somewhere was mortifying, but when Hancock shifted in the bed, you decided not to risk staying. You pulled your boots on, leaving them unlaced as you crept over the ancient floorboards. Seeing as Hancock was managing to sleep through the ruckus of the drifters on the top floor, you doubted the creak of the house would wake him, but you were still extra cautious as you cracked the bedroom doors open, just enough for you to slip through and rush down the staircase, pointedly not looking at any of the Neighborhood Watch.

Out in the semi-fresh morning air, you took a deep breath, mumbling another curse to yourself as you began a quick jog home, trying to avoid any knowing glances as you rounded a corner and shouldered the door to your apartment building open.

Shower, underwear, find Nate, get him to ask Hancock for the caps while you cowered in the background with sunglasses and a baseball cap over a dark hoodie. Fuck.

The shower was cold, obviously, and you counted your blessings for having running water at all, even if it was a bit too irradiated for comfort. You did your best to scrub fast, hands brushing through sweaty, greasy hair, soaping the necessary areas. You very pointedly did not linger on the dried, flaking cum on your stomach, exorcizing it with a washcloth and curses.

You were busy drying your hair with your dirty shirt, because whenever the water lingered too long it left an uncomfortable sheen over your hair and smelled a bit like a bog. A knock sounded at the door, sending ice through your veins, a response equivalent to the roar of a Deathclaw or the clicking of a Mirelurk.

For a moment, you contemplated crawling onto the rusty fire-escape outside your living room window and walking into downtown Boston to let some Super Mutants eat you.

Instead, though, you stepped over to the door, moments quiet as you contemplated what the fuck you were going to say. Last night was a mistake. You're my boss. I haven't had sex in two years and I'm sorry for leading you on, can I please have my panties back?

Another knock startled you out of your thoughts, fast and panicked, followed by the call of your name from a voice that definitely did not belong to Hancock.

You opened the door to a panting Nate, already back in his suit and armor, gun tossed over his shoulder.

"Nate?"

"Hey! Have fun last night?"

You flushed, even though his expression was nothing but kind; curious and happy for you, like a good friend should be.

"Uh. What's with the get up?" You deflected, which Nate took in stride.

"Distress call from the Minutemen, they asked me to head out west to Graygarden."

"The... farm run by robots?"

"Oh, that's what it is?"

"Wh- Never mind. What are you doing there?"

"Something about the water supply and Super Mutants. I'm leaving in a few minutes"

"Okay, that's fine, I'll drag someone else with me to Diamond City, no stress."

"No, I want you to come with me."

You blinked, hand tensing on the door frame, "Nate I'm not a fighter."

"Yes you are," He said, looking so genuinely confused it made your heart seize a bit, "We fought together. At Anchorage. Did you forget?"

"No, I didn't–" You swallowed. 

After returning home, witnessing massacre after massacre, you'd sworn to yourself you wouldn't get involved in that kind of shit. Even after the world ended, you'd managed to keep that promise. At night, alone in your cold bed, you could still hear the hissing of sentry bots, the creaking of power armor, the whistling of bullets. "I don't do that anymore, Nate."

Nate pulled one of his more serious faces, a rare sight for a man with seemingly endless drive and relentless optimism, even after losing more than you could imagine.

"Look. I understand what you're feeling–" You took a breath to interrupt him, because his blind patriotism had driven him forward when you'd lagged behind, weighed down by the blood on your hands. Nate pushed forward, "I know you don't believe me, but I really do. And nothing helped me heal those wounds like helping people."

"Helping robots." Your voice was flat.

"Who provide food for over a dozen settlements. You'd be doing good."

You bit your lip, casting your eyes over your apartment to avoid the earnest look in Nate's eyes. Sure, you were... content in your life. Goodneighbor was as safe as any settlement could be, you had steady income, some sort of purpose. But you remembered the day Nate had walked into the Third Rail with Nick Valentine on his heels, bleary eyed, vault suit still pristine. The way your heart had sung, the way an aching loneliness you'd felt since coming off the ice had faded.

Was this what the rest of your life would be? Slinging drinks, small talk with coworkers and bar patrons, waiting for the next time Nate would walk in through the doors like some yearning wife waiting for her husband to return from war?

Besides, you weren't going to be able from Hancock in his own fucking town, not for long.

You shut your eyes, feeling the phantom weight of a gun in your hands.

"Fuck. Fine."

The smile on Nate's face was like a kid's at Christmas.

"Great! I'll meet you at the front entrance in..." He glanced down at his pip-boy, "Thirty minutes?"

"Okay."

And he was off, leaving you standing in your doorway, blinking at nothing wondering what the fuck you'd agreed to.

Under your bed there were some loose floorboards you'd been using to store the important things. Your spare caps, your vault suit and pip-boy, your 10mm pistol and your combat shotgun. The former was familiar to you, used centuries ago in a war no one understood anymore. You'd grabbed it on your stumbling way out of the vault, and it was a good thing to or you would have gotten gored by some very territorial mole rats before even making it to a settlement. The shotgun had been stolen, in your trek to downtown Boston, taken off a raider you'd knocked out with a lead pipe. He'd clearly made some adjustments to it, with a hair trigger, less recoil than expected and a scope you'd never needed to use. You'd been meaning to sell it since you'd gotten in, but it had ended up in the floorboards where you'd simply hoped it would stay unless you were strapped for cash.

A knapsack was quickly filled with everything you needed, a change of clothes, a portable water purifier, all the food that would go to waste if you didn't take it with you. You tucked some spare caps into a hidden inside pocket, wrapping them in cloth to keep them from rattling. Your spare 10mm ammo, a few packs of cigarettes, a lighter, a flashlight.

The pistol was strapped into a thigh holster, a gun belt held your shotgun rounds. The shotgun went around your shoulder. They felt heavier than you remembered them being, their weight an oppressive reminder with every step you took out of your apartment. You'd need to let Charlie know you wouldn't be in for a while, and you'd need to stop by KL-E-0's for some spare parts. Easy enough, it was just the matter of avoiding certain tricorn-hat wearing mayors.

You kept your head down as you made your way through the street. You cut a more imposing figure with your armor, with the glint of weapons. People moved out of your way as you jogged towards the Third Rail, sliding in through the door like a mouse darting into its burrow.

You rattled like a tin can chime as you walked down the steps to the bar, announcing your approach before you could be seen, a cat with a bell. You were skittish, pausing at the last step to peek into the lounge, trying to spot a red coat, a familiar smile. Coast was clear.

"That the new uniform, then?" Charlie's voice nearly sent you flying, a squeak leaving you as the Mr. Handy suddenly appeared in view. The three eyes didn't exactly convey emotion well, but you could hear the dry amusement in his tone, maybe a hint of judgement.

"No, I uh–" You shook yourself, loosening the cotton in your brain, "Nate asked me to accompany him on a mission. Shouldn't take more than a week."

"Seven days and I'll file a missing person's report." Dry, dry, dry.

"Right," You breathed, gripping the banister like a life line, "Right. I appreciate the uh– The thought, Charlie. I'll see you around." Saliva filled your mouth, and you had a second to panic about throwing up on the floor as your stomach rolled, before the feeling faded.

Charlie didn't dignify you with a response, going right back to... whatever it was he did when the bar was closed, so you turned around, rattling right back up the stairs. First vacation in two years.

Again, you kept your head down as you walked through the alley towards Kill or Be Killed, pointedly avoiding letting your gaze slip to the Old State House, like the building itself would summon him. Something burned in your chest, not quite shame, but the next thing to it. In another life, you would've considered chewing on a baby aspirin, kept the landline in view, ready to dial 911, if you were having a heart attack. Now, though, you shrugged it off, grabbing your canteen and taking a greedy drink, washing away the cigarette taste that still lingered in your mouth.

KL-E-0 was in her usual place, piercing red eye landing on you.

"Well, don't you look dressed to kill."

You'd wondered, sometimes, if she had been especially programmed to sound so sultry, or if it was just her natural charm.

"Heading out for a while," You dug your bag of caps out of your pocket, placing it on the table as your eyes roamed over the wares available, "Think you could spare some grenades and shotgun shells?"

"Let's get you outfitted, killer."

The word left a sour taste in your mouth that had nothing to do with the cigarettes. You made it through the trade quickly, enough ammo to last you several encounters, enough grenades to get you through a couple rough spots. You left with your pockets lighter, your bandolier, pack and shoulders weighed down.

"Have fun, baby."

"Yeah, thanks, Kleo."

Nate was standing by the entrance, a respectable distance from the Neighborhood Watch, a focused frown on his face as he fiddled with his Pip-boy. He looked up when you approached, frown turning to a bright smile.

"So," you said, shouldering your gun, "Ready to head off?"

"Not quite, we're still waiting on the rest of the party. You know how he is, always fashionably late."

You didn't manage to get out your confused "Who?" Before a familiar hand was clapping Nate on the shoulder, saying, "So! Ready to get this show on the road?"

Fuck.

Notes: This is so insanely self indulgent it’s crazy, but I do hope you enjoyed at least a little <3

[alessandra-14]

I finally found you

Dean Winchester x daughter!reader , Sam Winchester x niece!reader

Summary: Y/N who just lost her mother, discovers that her father is Dean Winchester and seeks him out. She meets him and his brother during a spontaneous hunt where she gets hurt.

Word count: 3.4k

It's been requested.

Four months have passed since your mother has died, but it still felt like yesterday. The house was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that gnawed at you, reminding you just how alone you were. No family which you could go to and no friends who could support you in any way.

You are only 15 but it feels as if you had lived a lifetime in the past few months. Losing your mother, the woman who raised you, who loved you more than anyone else in this world, was the hardest thing you had ever faced.

Before her painful death, which had been caused by a vampire during a usual hunt, she muttered out your fathers name. Dean Winchester.

You've heard about him before. Of course you did. Dean is a legend in the world of the supernatural. Most hunters know about him and his brother Sam, but you had never imagined that you were tied to them.

After the small funeral, with no family left, you began researching him. It wasn't easy to track down a man who lived off the grid, but with a few well-placed questions and some clever digging, you found some very vague leads. You knew you had to find him, not only because he is your father but because you had nowhere else to go.

....

You had been searching for him for around three in a half months now but with no luck whatsoever. During those two months you've taken on small hunts. Nothing harder than finding the bones and burning them. Your mother taught you a lot about hunting and world of supernatural. Sometimes even took you on easy hunts to learn some more.

That's how you ended up in the woods near a small town. A local ghost story had brought you to these woods. You’d done your research, pieced together the puzzle, and figured it was an easy salt-and-burn situation. That’s what you told yourself, anyway. But something felt off. The air was thick with something darker than you expected, something more than just a restless spirit.

For some reason you thought that it could be just an angry spirit who never got to rest in peace, that's why you decide to check it out.

As you walk through the woods to look for the spirit you suddenly hear loud and heavy footsteps. Quickly you hide into one of the thicker bushes on your left side. Even if it's just a person walking by, it's better to make sure it's completely safe.

In the meantime the two pairs of footsteps stop and all you can hear are their hushed voices.

"Did you hear that Sammy?" One of the men asks. The other man nods "Yeah"

They continue to approach the bush you are hiding in. You quietly take out the only weapon you have on you right now, A silver knife. As they come closer and closer, panic is starting to flow through you. Especially when you see the that they are holding guns. shit what are you supposed to do? Either start talking and slowly come out the bush with your arms raised or you could use your knife to take them out. The chance that it will work is very very low.

Before you can make a proper decision or plan one of the two men speaks up with a gruff voice. "come on out, we won't hurt you. We just want to see if you are a threat."

You can't help but hesitate for a moment. Should you answer that? Maybe they actually don't know you are hiding in a bush. Maybe they just said that to trick you into coming out.

After a quick debate you answer the two men while getting out of the bush. "I'm not a threat."

Sam and Dean frown as they look at you. Sam lowers his gun but Dean keeps it aimed on you "Then put that knife of yours down" Dean's voice is stern and doesn't leave much space for arguing.

But still you shake your head and keep the knife clutched tightly in your hand. Dean obviously doesn't like that. "Put the knife down now!"

At last you do as your told and put down the knife close to your feet.

“What are you doing out here?” Sam called, his voice low but firm.

You look at them closely but because of all the adrenaline it takes you a while to recognize who the two men standing in front of you are. But even so you can still clearly tell that they are definitely hunters.

“Hunting. Same as you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, his gaze sceptical as he sized you up but still stops pointing the gun at you. “Kid, this isn’t a playground. These woods are dangerous.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the fear creeping into your chest. “I’m not a kid, and I know what I’m doing. There’s a ghost out here. I can handle it.”

Sam stepped forward, his expression softer but equally concerned. “This isn’t a ghost. It’s a werewolf. And it’s close.”

Your blood ran cold. You’d never dealt with anything like that before. Werewolves were a different kind of dangerous—fast, strong, and far from the simple salt-and-burn you were used to.

"Well shit." You sigh scared and then look back up at the brothers and that's when the realization hits you. You have seen these men before. Christ you were searching for one of them since months! And now he is standing right in front of you and you didn't even notice.

Sam and Dean look at you confused as they see your astound expression all of a sudden. Sam is the first to speak up. "Uhm... are you okay kid?"

Even though you already know the answer you still ask them their names just to make sure you're right. "What's your guys names?"

Both of them continue to frown confused but Sam still responds. "Well I'm Sam and he is Dean".

"Winchester?" You ask to clarify it.

Both brother nod. Dean's frown deepens as he is getting more suspicious of you.

You start smiling at their answer. "That's great! I have something really important to tell you Dean. You are m-" You get interrupted by a loud roar. That must definitely come form the werewolf.

All three of you turn towards where the sound came from and lift up their guns again. Sam turns to look at you. "You stay right here. Dean and I will take care of it.

But you are having none of it, so you shake your head and grab the knife, which you put down on the floor earlier.

"What? No! I want to help. " Dean also turns around to look at you and glares like his life depends on it.

"Hell no. If we tell you to stay put, then you stay put. You're going to get yourself killed otherwise."

Once again, his tone doesn't leave much space for arguing, so you roll your eyes and huff annoyed. "Alright. Damn. I'll stay right here"

Before you even know it, they disappear deeper into the woods, following the werewolf's roars.

....

You are left alone with your thoughts and worries. You know that you can't do much to help them. All you have is a knife, which is silver, so that could actually help, but honestly, you are too afraid to follow them and help hunt that werewolf. But at the same time, you feel a strong urge to do something. You can't just sit around and wait for them to return. What if something happens to them. You have finally found your father and uncle after months of searching, and for all you know, they could just die right now.

"Fuck it"

You sigh and wipe the sweat off your forehead before quickly taking off into the same direction.

As you get closer to the two brothers and the werewolf, you can hear that it's not going well at all. You rush even more till you reach them.

Sam is on the muddy ground trying to get up after being knocked over. His gun with the silver bullets is way too far out of his reach, and so I Dean's. What the hell happened. Your father is also getting knocked over and the werewolf is about to slash him so you warn him quick

"Dean, look out!" He manages to roll away, but the werewolf obviously doesn't give up just yet.

You quickly noticed that and ran over to it and stabbed it in its back with your knife. The werewolf shrieks and launches its paw right at you. Its sharp claws dig right into your stomach. The brute force of the werewolf's attack send you flying into the nearest tree.

Dean looks over to you and an unexplainable rage flows through him. He has never felt something like that before. Sure, he has gotten angry when someone hurts Sam, but that's his brother. He doesn't know you. Doesn't even know your name. Why does he feel this way?

He rapidly gets up from the ground and so does Sam. The taller brother grabs the gun which lays on the ground and shoots the werewolf. The silver bullets do an amazing job at killing the monster.

Dean on the other hand is only focused on you right now.

He rushes towards you quickly and kneels down next to you. "Are you alright!? Can you get up?" You get up but it hurts so bad. You try to stand properly which turns out to be harder than you thought

"Yeah I got it" You hold onto your bleeding tummy and press hard on it causing you to wince in pain. 

Dean looks at you in concern. The way you are holding onto your stomach and pressing hard on it, he gets the feeling that there is more damage then just a scratch. He speaks up softly. "Come here, let me take a look." His voice, soft as it is, but still holds the same authority as it did before.

You try to lift up my shirt but it hurts to bad and you whimper once again since the shirt sticks to the bleeding wound a bit.  "Owww" Dean isn't surprised by you whimpering and he immediately gets up and helps you. He lifts your shirt carefully to examine the wound. It's obvious that it's more serious then just a scratch. A long, deep gash runs across your abdomen. Dean raises an eyebrow. "This is serious. You need stitches as soon as possible, kid"

Your breath quickens and you shake my head immediately "No no no I-I'm fine really. It's ok it will heal in no time. No stitches!" Dean sees how distressed you are and speaks with a very gentle but firm voice now.

"Listen to me, sweetheart. This wound is a deep one and I am 99% sure it will leave a scar and may even cause infection if left untreated. I am an expert hunter and I can clearly tell that it's more serious than a little cut. You NEED stitches."

You desperately keep trying to breath but it's not working properly. It hurts so incredibly bad and you can feel your legs feeling more and more weak

"Yeah well we can't go to a hospital. You know that sir" Dean frowns when you call him sir but doesn't address it for now, instead focusing on you and the wound. He speaks in an incredibly comforting voice now, even though it feels very out of character for his usual self. "Don't worry, kid. I have some experience with stitching up wounds. I can treat it myself without the need of a hospital. We can do this at our motel room"

You think for a second and then agree. So you nod. You really need help. You can't die now. Not after finally finding your father and having a chance to have a new life.

You once again try your best to talk and breath properly but you are just in too much pain "Okay, yeah" You whimper the words out.  Dean gives you another look of concerned before speaking up again. "Let's go." Sam joins the two of you and the two men go to help you up and start to walk back to the their car. "Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?" 

You try to take a couple steps. It works out alright. So I nod towards the two men. "I think I got it" You answer quietly and the three of you start walking back towards their car Dean smiles a little seeing that you are able to walk on your own. He leads you over towards their car, which is a big black Chevy Impala. Sam goes towards the driver's seat and starts the engine, while Dean opens the passenger side door and asks you in a concerned voice again.  "Can you get in?" "Yeah" You sit down which causes you to let out a little yelp and a slight cry. God you simply can't wait to get this over with

Sam drives the car while Dean sits right next to you, checking up on your wound every now and then. It's not a fun ride, as Sam keeps hitting the breaks and making sharp turns that makes it uncomfortable and painful to sit. Still, Sam is clearly trying to be as careful as he can, being aware of your injuries and not wanting to risk putting you in even more pain.

You are completely tired so your eyes start closing. You really fight to stay awake but at some point you don't think you can do that for much longer. The tight grip you have on your bleeding stomach is starting to loosen up.  "I'm tired"

Dean notices in the corner of his eye that you are starting to fall asleep. He looks at you in concern and speaks gently but still stern. You can hear a hint of panic in his voice.  "I know, but it's only a few more minutes until we get to our motel room. Just try and hold on for a little while longer, okay? Don't close your eyes, please kid."

Dean thinks about what he can talk to you about so you stay focused on him and not the tiredness you are feeling right now. 

"So kiddo you wanted to say something before the werewolf made it's appearance. You said it was important. What is it?"

"You nod agreeing. Yeah it is pretty important. I have been searching for you for months now" You answer him through painted groans. Dean and Sam both frown at your words. "Why?" 

You look up and into his green eyes and attempt to answer but the words come out unclear and mostly in a whisper because you are just seconds away from completely passing out "Well I found out you're my father" 

You barely finish your sentence when your eyes close themself and you become unconscious. 

Dean looks down at you suddenly when you pass out. His eyes widen and he turns towards Sam, clearly worried about you. "What the hell?!" Dean speaks up right after Sam, concerned as well. "Damn it, she just passed out!"

But the only thing Dean can think about are the words you said. It was hard to hear every single word you said but the word "father" is what he heard loud  and clear. His head is spinning and his thoughts are racing. What the hell is he supposed to do now.

…. You wake up the next day around noon. Once you open your eyes, it takes a minute to realize where you are and what happened. 

You sit up in the motel bed and immediately wince in pain. You lower your head to see and touch the bandage on your stomach. 

Dean seems to be awake and looking back over at you when you wake up. He has a serious expression on his face and he gets up off of the bed when he sees you waking up. "Thank god you are finally awake kid. We were really worried you wouldn't make it." Sam is also awake and he sits up on his bed as well. He doesn't speak, instead looking down at you cautiously.

"Mhm" You mumble and nod, then lay back down with a groan. Everything just hurts. 

Dean walks over towards you and sits down beside the bed. He speaks up in a very concerned voice, now wanting to know everything about what happened in your past. "Take it easy. Are you in a lot of pain, kid? "

slight tears gather in your eyes as you agree. "Yes I am"

Dean is instantly very worried and his eyes widen even more when he sees the tears begin to gather in your eyes. He leans over and gently touches your shoulder. "Can I ask you some questions, kiddo?"

You look up at the man slightly confused. But then remember what you told him last night. Oh shit. you had already forgotten about that. You nod and look over at Sam for a second before returning your gaze to Dean. "Yeah sure"

Your father gives off a relieved sigh when you say yes. He looks at you intently and speaks up with genuine curiosity. "Can I ask you your name first? You never told us last night"

You just now realized that you really haven't told them your name yet, so you tell them.

"And how old are you, kid?" 

You start to slightly fidget with the bandages on your tummy. Even though you should play around with those. They just feel to tight and uncomfortable around your waist and stomach.  "I am 15 years old"

Dean looks at you for a second before he nods and seems to process this information. "Ah. I see. I have another question. Where are your parents?" He asks cautiously. 

Your expression immediately turns sad and you look away from the two hunters. "Oh. My mom is dead. She got killed 4 months ago by a vampire. And well I have been on the look out for my dad these past months. That's you."

You don't say anything for a second before you turn to look at him. "There is a letter in my backpack. It's in the very front. You can take it put and read it. You definitely will want to" Your mom wrote that letter years ago in case something happens and you have to seek out your father. She, of course, always  knew how dangerous her life as a hunter is. She explains everything to him in that long letter. 

Dean is intrigued by what you said right away. His eyes narrow slightly as he quickly gets up from the bed and walks over to your backpack. He unzips it and looks through the items for a minute before he finds the letter and pulls it out. "Is this it?" He holds it in his hand and walks back over towards you, holding it out with the letter towards you. There is clear concern and curiosity on his face as he looks up at you again.

You simply just nod.

Dean reads through the letter quickly. He feels a sudden mix of different emotions as he reads through the letter. The first one is shock, as he quickly realizes that you are in fact his daughter. The second one is confusion but also curiosity at the same time. The third one is guilt, as he realizes that you had to suffer so much while he was absent for years. He looks up to you after he has read the letter. "You are my..daughter?"

You sigh and keep my head down, so that they don't see my tears which ate now coming from a different cause than before. It's all just so overwhelming right now.  "Yes. In case you don't believe or trust me I have her old journal so you can read that if you necessarily want but I can surely tell you that you are my father. 

Dean is silent for a little while as all the emotions run through his body before he is able to respond. He looks down to notice your tears, his face softens further but he doesn't say anything about them yet. "I..I am very sorry for not being there for you. I had absolutely no idea you even existed"

"It's ok. It wasn't your fault. I am just glad that I have finally found you, dad"

A proud smile stretches across his face as he agrees. "Yeah me too, kiddo"

[villainscharm]

BLOOD AND BONES | davos blackwood

CHAPTER : THREE (FINAL PART)

MASTERLIST — TWO

paring : davos blackwood x f! original character

summary : celia and davos began their courtship for their upcoming wedding in less than a week, only before celia found out that her betrothed were off to battle the next day.

a/n : sorry for being late i was busy fighting migraine for two weeks 😭

english is not my first language. all characters are of age unless stated otherwise.

rating : explicit. mdni !!

words count : 4.7k

warnings : smut. fingering. angry outdoor/gazebo sex. dirty talk. biting/slight blood kink. breeding kink, creampie. arranged marriage. original house/characters.

“You came home late last night,” Carlos said when Celia strode into the dining hall, his voice was a mix of observation and statement, anything but a question in fact. “Didn’t realize you were awake until then,” Celia responded in annoyance as she sat herself down on the seat next to her brother, pouring herself a goblet of wine. Carlos noticed, his eyebrows perked up at the sight. The lady Lairwyn was no stranger to wine or any intoxicated beverages but in this hour after the sun had just risen, Carlos was sure something may have possessed his dear sister. “I wasn’t awake by then, but you just happened to forget how to close the door quietly at night is all,” Carlos replied sarcastically, almost a rare sight for Celia however. Two years ago, Carlos was a charming man, though would speak with a prince-like mannerism, he managed to be himself around his sister more than he was now. Loss changed him — death changed him.

“Oh, had only I known I was interrupting your beauty sleep, brother, I would have tried to be quieter,” Celia banged the table lightly with her fist as she stared at her brother menacingly. “I assume your nightly stroll didn’t go well then. Who would hate themselves enough to willingly be your paramour anyway?” Carlos flashed her a low smirk, already knowing who she had seen last night. “Try not to hate each other, it would help the marriage to go well,” Carlos spoke after a quick moment of silence as Celia ate her breakfast, bread and wine, an unusual meal for lady Lairwyn of Bloodstone. “It would surely go well only if you didn’t betrather me to someone who enjoys testing my patience,” Celia managed through her gritted teeth. “At least the two of you would have that in common,” Carlos said before standing up, he had done with his breakfast for a while now, two goblets of wine which did nothing to his sobriety, sometimes Celia herself wondered if her brother actually drank blood.

“You’re scheduled to meet him this afternoon. Ready yourself and try not to kill each other as I discussed important matters with lord Samwell Blackwood,” Carlos finished before exiting the room.

“Of course, dear brother, I wouldn’t want to kill him before our wedding!”

“Do you despise yourself?”

“What?” Davos’ head shot to Celia’s direction in confusion, his eyebrows frowning as he watched the lady in front guided them into the garden of her estate. “I asked if you despise yourse–”

“Yes, I heard you the first time, I just didn’t believe my own ears that it’s the first thing you said to me,” Davos said with annoyance, he sighed and Celia rolled her eyes at him. “If you distrust your ears you could have told me, I would love to slice them off and feed on them so I could live more years,” her lips curved into a smirk in amusement, only Davos found nothing amusing of the matter at all. “You are unbelievable,” the young lord sighed as he walked past his betrothed. “I know, our marriage would be lovely,” Celia shouted behind before quickly following him. It was uncommon that the pair of them spend their time as betrotheds without a chaperon or perhaps it was the fact that house Lairwyn only had no more than ten caretakers including servants under their household.

They walked through the Bloodstone lifeless garden in silence for a moment, just enjoying the silence between them, it was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, it was just calmness, something both Celia and Davos needed in their life for once. When Davos arrived at the castle with his uncle, he dressed in his full proper attire from head to toe, with his dark-red cloak hung over his broad shoulders, his sigil pinned proudly on his chest while Celia for the first time wasn’t in breeches but a dress. In her house color, a dark taupe gown with black laces on the hem of her dress and sleeves, her raven-haired tied in the half up half down, a change from her usual style of simple braid.

A beautiful sight in fact, Davos remarked silently.

At this moment she was lady Celia Lairwyn of Bloodstone, the infamous sharped-tongue and current heir to Bloodstone. She was full of beauty, danger and pride, and Davos found it somewhat challenging.

“You weren’t present when I arrived this morning?” a question came from Davos as he watched her carefully beside him. “I was ready myself. You shouldn’t question a lady’s schedule,” Celia’s voice was stern and poisonous. Davos knew she was trying to be nonchalant with him, after last night, and it was too obvious but he kept his notices to himself. “My apologies then, but thank you for your efforts to look nice for me, pretty in fact.”

Celia’s gaze snapped to Davos’ mischievous ones as they studied her up and down, a smirk crossed his lips and Celia was sure she was ready enough to wipe that smug face off of him in mere minutes. Annoyed, yes, but indisposed? no. 

“You were in the hall with my brother and your uncle earlier, tell me,” Celia managed to change the topic suddenly, her posture now serious. “What else has my brother discussed with your uncle?” Celia and Davos could tell that his betrothed and her brother hadn’t been talking about it much, typical noble lords separated family’s wishes from all importance. Davos considered for a moment, he knew what terms Carlos had asked his uncle and he hesitated to let her know. But either way, it was their marriage, she had to know anyway and he figured lying to Celia must’ve cost him more dearly than he could have thought.

“He wishes for the child to be named heir to Bloodstone, as his successor.”

The child, not our child.

Davos tried to avoid certain terms to not make her feel uncomfortable, but judging by his bare sights she didn’t seem to be in any discomfort.

Hearing that somehow made Celia’s chest feel tight. Of course they would have a child, she just hadn’t thought about it at all. Slowly, she nodded in reply, already aware of that matter as it had been discussed with her moons ago.

“Of that I'm aware of. Do you accept it?” Celia pursed her lips, trying to not seem like she was pressuring him to yield to her terms, not that it was her desire anyway. “My uncle left it to me. He already has his heir, if nothing goes wrong, he will inherit everything — which I don't mind — as well as one who’ll bear our names.” His answer made Celia’s head turn in surprise. She had not expected, of all people, a Blackwood lord to accept such a kind of terms like this. Though she was grateful for his generosity, she managed to hide it and uttered a simple thank you to him. They walked together in more minutes of silence, just the sounds of their boots touched the ground. Bloodstone’s dirt was muddy but the leaves were always dry. Their trees possessed no lives, not a green sight to be found. Davos continued studying his surroundings as they walked, Bloodstone’s dead trees reminded him of his own home, Raventree Hall, the enormous weirwood tree in the godswood and hundreds of ravens above it. Those thoughts reminded him of the conversation they had fortnight ago.

“I'm sure Raventree Hall must be astonishing.”

“It is indeed astonishing, lady Celia. You should see it yourself.”

Davos would take Celia to Raventree Hall if she asked, even if she already had to anyway. But he wanted her to go to his home because she wished to go, not because her duty forced her to so. If they weren’t bound by this marriage proposal, he would take her anyway, such beauty remained hidden in the castle would be wasted, especially as his future lady wife.

“I do not wish to be a misery to you,” Celia began when they reached a pond at the end of the garden, after a long moment of silence. Davos looked at her with surprise, his eyebrows raised at the mention as he said nothing and let her continue. “—or a bane. I don’t want my marriage life to be…cold and loveless either,” her gaze low, wandering to the pond instead of meeting her betroth’s eyes. “Truthfully, I do not wish to be married out of convenience at all, Davos.”

Davos listened and said nothing, he tried to come up with something comforting to speak to Celia, nothing seemed bright, so he asked instead. “What do you think?” Davos sat himself down and rest his back against the nearby tree, close to the pond itself. “Well, my brother suggested try not to hate each other as much and maybe it could be easier,” Celia replied with a huff, still annoyed at her brother’s smallest attempt to help her through.

“He is sharp,” Davos chuckled, earning a glare from Celia who stood above him. She rolled her eyes at him before settling herself next to him. The closure reminded them of their late-night encounter prior, their hands now laid close to one another’s but they remained still, tensing and trying not to reach for another.

“Last night—”

“I went to bed and fall asleep,” Celia cut him off before she could hear what he said. Davos was confused for a second before a smug smirk reappeared in his face. “I didn’t even— ah I see,” and Celia’s head shot to him, Davos watched her do it with a chuckle. “You went to bed and thought of me? How kind of you,” he managed to tease her but she didn’t find humour as he did at all. “Don’t flatter yourself, Davos. You’re not that memorable for me to waste a thought on.”

“Unless it was not a thought that you wasted at night, my lady,” Davos moved closer, a smirk remained on his lips. Gods, how Celia wished to punch that smirk of off his face. His lips moved closer to her ears, he whispered, “Tell me, lady Celia. Did you think of me as your dream went into its wilderness? Untangling the sweet torment I left you with?”

“Speak more and I will actually rip both your tongue and heart out right his second.”

“But won’t you miss it my lady?”

“In your wildest dream, Blackwood.”

“Trying my name on your tongue? Don’t worry, my betrothed, you will be lady Blackwood in days time.”

“Ugh, and I thought you may not be as loathsome as I judged,” Celia huffed out before stood up quickly, dusting her gown violently, “clearly I was wrong.”

As she began walking away, Davos shouted, “Still, you didn’t deny it!”

“Babe-killer.”

“What did you say?”

Davos shouted as the Bracken before him stop, he could feel that Aeron’s body stiffen as his voice shouted. For Davos knew Aeron must have uttered something foully that took enough courage to mention, but to Davos, Brackens were anything but courageous.

Slowly, Aeron turned around to face the Blackwood lord. Oh, how he hoped he had continue walking away. “Your false queen, Rhaenyra, is a kinslayer,” Aeron managed after a gulped and realization hit Davos along with his men. House Blackwood and Brackens were anything but on the same path, with their history of rivalry and loathing, but as Aeron announced his treachery, Davos knew this war would have deeper layers.

“Your uncle declared for Aegon, didn’t he?” Davos responded, nodding to himself before stepping forward. “Well then, let me tell you; Aegon Targaryen is no true king,” Aeron did not back away as Davos stepped closer. “just as you are no true knight,” the young Blackwood lord pushed his opponents in his chest as his voice grew louder.

“You’re both cravens,” pushed.

“Little—” pushed.

“CUNTS!” a final push, and Aeron’s back hit the squire boy behind him, causing him to fall backwards. Instinctively, Aeron reached for his sword under his belt, pointing its end towards Davos Blackwood, as he did the same in defense. But instead of unsheathing his steel, Davos let go of it and laughed. A laugh that almost sounded menacing.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Davos proclaimed and silence filled the air as the squire boys were glancing at each other anxiously, debating among themselves whether they should stop their lords before the fight could begin. Aeron remained silence as he waited for Davos to continue, only he didn’t. One of the squires alerted Davos of something, whispering quietly which made Davos’ eyes lit up at once.

“Your treachery will not be forgotten, my lord uncle will wage war for the realm’s true queen while you cravens cover yourself under the green’s banner as if children hide under blankets. We will not allow you traitors get away with it.”

“Well, thank you for your hospitality, lord Carlos. And you lady Celia, I hope my nephew and you have grown into each other,” lord Samwell Blackwood announced at the dining table, a goblet in his hands as he raised it in a respectful gesture. It was just the three of them there, Davos was nowhere to be found. The lord of Bloodstone instructed his sister to invite him inside for supper after their departure at the pond. But Davos simply declined, he wished to spend more time under the large willow tree and Celia did not care enough to accompany him, not after his childish teasing that Celia herself had to admit, made her heart softened for a bit.

Just a bit.

Maybe little more than a bit.

Fine. Combined with their shared kiss from last night, maybe more than she’d admitted.

Celia dissociated for a moment before she felt her brother’s urging cough, and realized she had not said anything after their guest commented on her courtship. “Your nephew is…” lovely, no, she couldn’t force herself to utter that aloud even in her mind. Annoying, no, that would be unkind. “—of many things. I find myself transfixed by him. Though, it would take us sometimes to find common ground, we have some differences.”

False. Celia had to admit, although the pair didn’t get along as much as they should have, Celia could list a few similarities they shared; impetuous, reckless, quick to anger, and egoistical.

The list could go on and on.

“Oh? Well, I hope you find his impulsiveness to be attractive then. Especially after he declared war in my name this morning,” lord Samwell finished before taking a bite of the chicken while Celia’s head shot quickly in confusion. “Declared war, you say?” It was Carlos who spoke up first, clearly sharing the same confusion as his sister. “Idiotic, Davos might’ve done, but his intention isn’t unacceptable. It is our loyalty with the queen we have, those Brackens are traitors to the realm after calling Rhaenyra false queen. There will be war sooner or late—”

“But this isn’t just a war for our queen, lord Samwell, it is your excuse to eradicate your centuries of rivalry your houses have,” Celia cut him off, she had no idea why she was angry. Maybe because Davos chose to not mention any of it during their shared time, and it irritated — maybe pained her — knowing that he tried to hide this important information from her.

“Maybe, but in the name of our queen, we’re only serving her,” lord Samwell did not mind her interruption, reasoning with his hosts. “Have her grace told to?” Celia continued, she could feel her brother’s stare but she ignored, not that Carlos disapproved of her anyway. “It is expected of us,” lord Samwell replied, earning no answer from Celia, so he continued. “There will be an attack on the morrow, at the mill, I supposed. Davos will be there.”

A beat, she gulped.

“And?”

She felt her blood boil, her heart beating violently inside.

Of fear or anger, she couldn’t tell.

“You should seek for him, sister, bid him best of luck,” Carlos advised, he knew what emotion his sister was in.

“True, if you’ll excuse me, my lords.”

“You are off to battle and wish not to tell me?” Celia asked — rather a scream — she found Davos in the gazebo near the pond of her garden. He took his cloak off now, even though the hour grew dark and the weather got slightly colder than before.

“I simply think you do not care,” Davos replied nonchalantly, standing up from his seat from the bench to approach her. Celia huffed in disbelief, throwing her hands in the air. “I? We are to be wed in less than a week and now you’re telling me that you wish to wage war and die?” her voice croaked with anger, she had not expected Davos to be willing enough in this arrangement but seeing as he tried to hide something important to her said it all.

“I did not say that.”

“But your decision did!” Celia stepped forward, her finger jabbing in his chest. “If you care for your responsibility or your duty for your house as you said enough, you would not make such a foolish decision,” it took all her might not to slap the senses into his face. At this point, she was lying to herself of the reason why she was inevitably furious. “This is war, there is nothing foolish about it,” Davos argued, his voice quieter than before, growing tired of the shouts.

“You put honor ahead of your desire just to throw it away like this? I can’t believe you.” She murmured, but loud enough for him to hear. “Maybe we should wed now, and you go die in battle tomorrow so we could be ridded of this burden. My brother can arrange another betrothal for me, I’m sure. Maybe he would let me choose a husband of my own choosing, one that I like.”

“You can dream of finding another suitable man,” Davos huffed, his eyes stared deep into her dark ones, and Celia noticed the lightly green color in his eyes, she always thought they were brown.

“And you suit me?” holding head high, her tone challenging.

“Better than every fuckers in the seven kingdoms.”

They were so close— too close than they realized, if anyone found them right now, they would surely be in trouble. Not that it was important, closer than this had happened before. And it was happening again as their lips crashed into each other.

Teeth and tongue. They were fighting and melting into each other at the same time, for dominance and for comfort. Davos thought Celia was actually going to slap him in the face when he dared to announce himself the best man to ever match her. She might had done it if her gut didn’t long for his kiss in that moment. Her hands went to his hair tugging at it and pulling him closer, pressing against each other, suddenly the cold air felt like nothing as their bodies grew hot with desires. Davos gently pushed Celia backward, until the back of her knees touched the table in the middle of the gazebo. His hands went under her gown, trailing up to her thighs as Celia placed herself onto the table, feeling something hard pressing against her leg.

Davos’ lips moved closer to her ear, placing small kisses under it before letting his tongue trailed down her neck. A moan escaped Celia’s lips as she felt Davos’ opened hot kiss, throwing her head back in pleasure. The hem of Celia’s pretty gown lifted up by the hand of Davos, he managed to slip his finger up inside of her garments, only to find out of how soaked she was.

“Davos...” Celia whimpered while Davos’ finger teased at her entrance, his hazel eyes watched her hungrily, taking in every detail from the way her eyes rolled in pleasure, how her chest heaved and her breathed hitched everytime his digit touched her pearl — before eventually entering into her core.

Celia moaned at the contact as Davos worked his skilled finger deliciously inside her. He was very good, not just the way he touched her but the way he was studying her as well, figuring out how to please her, what to do with his thumb and what her preferred pace to be, especially how to earn that sweet noise of his name from her lips more.

But before that Davos slowly removed his fingers from her, earning a frustrated whine from the lady. Gods, how beautiful she was underneath him. Davos truly thought they were perfect for each other, no other women in the realm would ever suit him as much as lady Celia Lairwyn did.

Davos managed to rip her undergarments off, exposing her core to his darkened eyes, he felt his mouth go dry at the sight. While Celia’s pretty hands started to unlace breeches, as soon as they fell to the floor, Celia wasted no time and went to touch his hardened length, wrapping her hand around and began stroking it dangerously slow, a sweet torment it was.

“You are full of pride—” Celia managed out while Davos urged her to lay down. “—thinking that I cannot find no better man than you are,” removing her hand from his cock, she yanked at his collar, a little habit Davos was starting to enjoy. His lips cast a smirk, not feeling threaten for a slight bit and it irritated her. Suddenly Celia wanted to bite his lips, she wanted to draw blood and wipe that smugness off his handsome face.

Gods, how she hated him.

Davos went to stroke his cock before placing the redden tip at her entrance, rubbing at her bundle of nerves teasingly.

“Keep talking and I will make you full of me.”

Before Celia could argued, Davos finally entered. — and how divine it felt. They both moaned in unison from the contact, resting their foreheads against each other while Davos waited for Celia to adjust to his size. After a moment, Celia gave him a nod as well as started to jerk her hips upwards. Celia had had experience before, this wasn’t her first time and Davos could tell, though he did not mind.

“So wet for me,” he grunted, listening keenly to the sweet sounds falling from her lips. “Not a big talker suddenly, hmm?” Davos teased, his hip moving in a quick pace, making Celia moan breathlessly while her cunt tightening around him. Her hands went to hold the back of his neck for balance. “Testing me further and I will draw blood out of you,” her nails dug deep into his skin, earning a groan from his throat but that face still displayed with a smirk. “Are you threatening me or suggesting? Either way, I find that stimulating.”

Gods, how she lusted for him.

“Fuck— your cunt is divine, how dared I leave you wanting like that last night?” he thrusted hard, his cock soaked with her wetness. “I bet that your hands couldn’t satisfy you, hm? Needed my cock to help you with that?” Davos chuckled lowly, his eyes filled with lust, darkened as they deepened into her eyes.

“I don’t need your— fuck!” a pathetic attempt was cut off by his once again hard thrust, this time Celia swore she could feel it deep in her soul. “Of course, my lady, but you are so pretty when you lie,” Davos kissed her neck, sucking and leaving purple marks that everyone should see on her pale skin. “Remember what you said about wedding earlier?” his hot dangerous voice whispered into her ears. “Take it as it’s done then, since we’re consummating now.”

It made her head spin, how deep his cock buried inside of her. How he fucked oh so perfectly in her cunt, blessing that sweet spot of her walls, angled himself just the right way for her clit to rub against his pubic bone. Davos groaned at the feeling of her hot cunt gripping him, her voice called for him everytime he hit that spot inside, begging for more.

Fuck me.

Harder.

Faster.

Please! I need you, Davos.

Gods, how she drove him crazy.

“I thought you should see this as performing duty for our houses?” Celia asked, her lips swollen from the biting she unknowingly did to suppressed her moans, even though that didn’t work. It was beyond divine. If this was how davos spent the night before his possibly last day on earth, he wouldn’t mind at all. Die in the battle, it be, the last thought of Davos Blackwood would cling to Celia Lairwyn; her dark eyes, her sweet scent, her blood-red lips.

“Before leaving me to battle and die, you might as well fuck an heir into me, at least our duty should be done successfully.”

And possibly her belly with his child.

“Fuck—”

And hells, her vicious cunt and her sharp fucking fangs as well.

Davos grunted lowly when Celia bit his lips, under the pale moonlight, he could see how the red liquid painted her soft lips when she smirked up at him. The Lairwyns and their crazes, Celia may not sucked blood as anyone said to be, but she surely lusted for it. And it only aroused him more.

Davos licked his lips, tasting the bitterness of his own blood. It hurted but that didn’t matter at all. “Davos,” Celia whimpered, warning him of her approaching climax. She looked so pretty when she neared her peak, how her glossy eyes looked at him desperately. Fuck, it took all his might not to spill inside of her now.

“You wish to cum, my lady?” Davos managed through his grunts, he was close too, the way her cunt tightened around him was driving him crazy. Celia nodded, pleading him with her eyes. Davos shook his head slightly before respond. “Use your words, and I’ll let you so.”

“I hate you,” she managed, biting her lips hard but her moan only grew louder.

“Your soaking cunt says otherwise,” he smirked down at her. It was too painful at that point, he slowed his pace, almost stilled his hips in place. Davos moved his lips closer, whispering encourages in her ears. “Come on, yield to me, wife.”

Hearing that almost send Celia over to the edge, but no matter how much she tried to fight it, she failed. “Tell me how much you want it, how much you want me,” his voice hot in her ears, his hips sped up as he could tell she was so close to yield. “Please, Davos— please let me cum,” Celia begged, her cries high-pitched and sweet in his ears and her pleas went straight to his cock.

“I need your cum inside of me, please husband—”

With that they reached climaxes, Celia peaked with a cry of Davos’ name from her lips, her cunt tight around his cock, milking his seed off while he buried his face into the crook of her neck, muffling his groan. Davos fell on top of her, and they laid there together for a moment, no words exchanged just the sound of their breathing slowed to its normal stage.

“Don’t die tomorrow,” it was Celia who broke the silence first, her voice rasp from tiredness. Her hand moved up to his hair, stroking them gently in a comforting way— almost a loving manner. On top of her Davos hummed, planting soft kisses of her temple. “I’ll try not to,” he replied quietly, his heart thumped in his chest, matching hers. “Wouldn’t want you to be a widow before our wedding.”

“Wouldn’t be a widow if we’re not yet married,” Celia corrected him, earning soft chuckles from Davos. He hummed in agreement while Celia smiled softly at him. At that moment Celia realized something. She wasn’t angry because Davos hid something from her, but because he was leaving her just before joining her at the altar—to die even worse. She didn’t love him, not yet at least, but she felt something in her heart after every moments they shared. After getting to know each other more, their marriage would really work out if they try.

“Promise?” Celia softly asked.

“I promise.”

taglist : @deltamoon666

[panur]

Scary Witcher fics (Geraskier)

Last year i decided i would compile a mini list of some dark/spoopy Geraskier fic recs to share with the masses. In no particular order:

The Only One Who Resonates by crushcandles

"Did you really worry?" he asks, licking his lips.

Jaskier barely hears the question and it doesn't register. It doesn't matter. No matter what Geralt asks him, the answer is the same.

"Yes," he says, deep from his empty belly.

++++

with lilies and with laurels he goes by twelvemagpies

The day that Jaskier dies, Geralt wakes up to an almighty ringing in his ears.

++++

Fever Song by crushcandles

"What are you doing?" Geralt barks.

Jaskier freezes, knife in one hand, a long deep blue strip of fabric in the other.

"Cutting a ribbon," he says. He doesn't stutter, but his eyes are wide; he knows he might be doing something he’s not supposed to.

++++

Quiet by Funkspiel

But still, Geralt looked for a cure. He did not ask for forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it – not while Jaskier was still unable to say the words to pardon him for his wish. Wishes. How Geralt hated them, hated the word. His wish had driven Yennefer away. His wish had bound Jaskier to a life in which he could not do what he loved. Geralt didn’t deserve forgiveness. So he did not ask.

And then came the contract about the witches of the bog.

++++

Silver and Copper by Heronfem

From the shadows a man steps out, his feet soundless on the flagstones. He’s tall for a human, lanky, and dressed all in grays and blacks. His clothing is good but oddly threadbare, the embroidery standing out against the silk, and the collar is high on his deathly pale, sun deprived neck. He wears many rings on his fingers, and several necklaces tangle at his throat. Handsome, with nut brown hair with a bit of a curl to it, and a fine jaw and nose, but his eyes.

His eyes are horrible.

++++

haunt by theredtailedhawkwithjewelsforeyes

He is exhausted with the grief of it. He does not let himself feel, and he feels this anyways. Sharp, aching, unfair. The absence of a heartbeat.

++++

Echo by ravenbringslight

Jaskier was gathering his things and he wasn’t panicking. He’d known that Geralt was going to leave any day now like he always did, so that was no surprise, even if it hit him like a punch to the gut (he was familiar with Geralt’s punches to the gut and he could say with great authority that getting left behind again felt slightly worse). But he had enough money to get to Oxenfurt now and his headache was gone and the vomiting seemed to have been short-lived. Other than the whole “can’t speak without the pain of a thousand rusty knives” situation he was right as rain.

In the corner, the thing that looked like him winked.

++++  

Bloodhunger by SpinnerDolphin

“What do you need?” Jaskier asks, low. His heart stutters a little, and he firmly tells himself that this is his friend, and he is not afraid of his friend.

Geralt actually trembles. “I need to kill something,”

++++

a thousand voices by mrc2 (this one is actually a WIP but guys it’s SO disturbing i refuse to read it after dark)

“You scared me,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t see you there.”

The statue, as expected, didn’t reply. It was a strange place for a statue to be.

“Why are you here?” Jaskier asked slowly as he took a tentative step closer.

And to his horror, the statue simply smiled.