#blood creek smut
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hope-to-hell · 1 year ago
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Evan Marshall Masterlist
Evan in Chains (fragmentary)
Opalescent
Home by Saturday, or: For Evan, whenever I may find him
An Exorcism
It Happened on a Monday (with August Walker)
The Drift
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reallyromealone · 6 months ago
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Part 2 to the rindo x male reader the succubus like ran comes looking for rindo and barges into his room to see reader and rindo cuddled up together and ran goes and tell everyone. Just thinking at how chaotic it’ll be.🙃
Title: morning after
Fandom: Tokyo revengers
Characters: bonten
Fic type: smut, omegaverse
Pairings: Rindō x male reader
Warnings: male reader, reader insert, smut, nsfw, omegaverse, au, demon au, reader is Omega
Notes: I got you
🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸
(Name) Was snuggly and full, the succubus testing on his new alphas chest as Rindō put a show on the tv in the corner as he rubbed (name)s hip "you hungry? For like human food?" The Alpha clarified and (name) looked dazed as he tried to comprehend what his alpha said to him "poor thing, fucked you stupid..." Rindō teased as he ordered food for them, he didn't know what the Omega liked so he got something light for him after all they just fucked for a solid four hours.
"You really managed to pick one of the most dangerous men and demon in the country, you know that right?"
"You smelled good..." (Name) Mumbled and Rindō chuckled at his adorable mates words "you smell real good too"
"Rinny, I know it's late but Mikey wants us to... Holy shit" Ran froze as he watched his younger brother in demon form snuggle up to a cute little succubus with claim marks on their necks, both looking like they just had some wild sex.
"Oh my fuck... hahaaAhHAHAA!" Ran cackled as he stumbled out and (name) snapped from his haze and looked embarrassed as he covered himself, Rindō looking annoyed at his brother.
"One moment baby" Rindō kissed him gently before going to go deal with his nosey older brother.
"How did that happen?" Ran asked while giggling and sitting on the couch "he came for a meal and I decided I wanted to keep him" Rindō said simply and ran raised an eyebrow "you decided to just... Keep him?" That did not sound like his brother, Rindō didn't just see some pretty little thing and keep them. "He's a half-blood, is a- well was a virgin and I don't know... I just couldn't let him leave"
"Half-blood? Does he know what you do?"
"I don't think he knows who I am, like at all"
The two heard the door creek open and the Omega in question stood in Rindōs shirt and a pair of his boxers "you uh... Destroyed my clothes, sorry..." (Name) Looked awkward as he fidgeted with the sleeves and his tail curled around his leg as a show of submission.
Aaaaand Ran now understood, this was exactly Rindōs type not to mention an Omega succubi so the cutie could survive Rindō.
Rindō motioned (name) to come to them, the poor thing limping as Ran tried to not laugh as Rindō pulled him into his lap "this is my brother, he can be annoying as shit but he's good" Rindō said as the elder Haitani smiled "so (name), tell me about yourself"
This is not how any of them expected to have this type of conversation, the scent of sex still lingering as Ran went to pour himself a drink and Rindō soothed his mates nerves, clearly (name) was uncomfortable having this sort of meeting right after having his world rocked.
"O-oh, well I work at my grandpa's book store and I'm in university... I'm just finishing last semester..."
"I see~ and are you aware of who we are?"
"I only realized when Rindō had me pinned..."
"He was too hungry to realize that he went into a demons apartment" Rindō added and Ran raised an eyebrow and Rindō sighed "he only took energy through kisses because he felt bad" human things, things that the brothers didn't really understand nor cared too deeply about, only really having any 'warm' feelings like compassion and care for each other and for Rindō, (name) was added due to the Bonding mark.
"Well that's fucking stupid, don't starve yourself because you worry about others feelings"
"But--"" weakness like that amongst demons and even humans will get you killed."
(Name) Fidgeted and Ran sighed "well I suppose I'll leave you love birds to it, I just came by to say Mikey wants you first thing in the morning since you were obviously too occupied to answer..." Ran shrugged and downed the rest of his drink before sauntering off, turning to look at the succubus "welcome to the family"
Once Ran left, Rindō brought (name) back to their room, still having time till they had to do their shit, the Alpha checking on their foods progress and humming "one second baby, I'm just gonna get our food" slipping on pajama pants the Alpha presented in his human form while (name) cuddled into the blankets, staring at his back while he went to the lobby.
What did he get himself into? He was just trying to get a meal and now he's got a mate! A hot one at that! And his conversation with Rindōs brother was so awkward!
He can't believe he was so reckless!
But god... Did this help considerably, he always felt a burn in his abdomen and his hunger... He wasn't hungry anymore, he felt so full and energetic.
He wanted more... But he would rather die than ask that.
"Sit up, pretty boy" Rindō said as he walked in with takeout bags "I got us wraps, I didn't know what you wanted so I just got the most popular" (name) took the wrap that was handed to him "what's next?" (Name) Asked as he bit into his wrap "what do you mean?" Rindō asked as he swallowed his food "like... You claimed me and stuff, so like what now?"
"Instinct wise you won't be able to be away from me or my scent without getting anxious... You haven't eaten right so you need to be 'fed' often till it regulates again" Rindō explained as he looked at the other with a gaze (name) couldn't figure out "you can share my bed or take the guest room..." (Name) Felt like the guest room thing wasn't an actual option and just nodded, he was a little intimidated by his new mate.
He was easily intimidated by a lot of things, he wasn't exactly the strongest after all.
Stronger than a human but definitely weaker than an average demon.
"We can work out the details tomorrow" the two finished their food and Rindō carried (name) to the washroom to brush their teeth, the demon having a few spares "what? There was a deal" he said simply when (name) looked curious at the variety pack.
When (name) woke, he let out a soft gasp as the sensation of a tongue lapping his ass, toes curling and fists clenching pleasure. Turning his head he looked to the source, seeing Rindō focused and entranced by his meal while groping and playing with (name)s ass cheeks. "Finally, you're awake" Rindō teased the poor Omega who whined, watching as Rindō bit his ass teasingly before moving to rut his cock between (name)s spit lubed cheeks "please.." (name) whined as he tried to get the alphas cock into him pitifully while Rindō just grinned sadistically.
"Come on, Omega... Beg for it"
"P-please...." (Name) Was flushed and embarrassed but Rindō didn't care as he tisked and slapped (name)s ass "come on baby, you can do better" he loved teasing the Omega already, he made it so easy! The durability of a demon and the reactions of a human~
"Please... Please um.... Put your cock in me..." (Name) Was embarrassed needy as Rindō rubbed his cock against (name)s cute puckered ass slowly, letting it catch slightly before pushing up, eventually pushing slowly into (name)s tight heat with a slow groan. Only half his cock was in as he began thrusting slowly, watching intently as his cock sunk deeper and deeper till he bottomed out. Rindō let out a sigh as (name) let out little moans and whimpers, feeling Rindō kiss bus nape before beginning his thrusts.
"Yesyesyes!" (Name) Chanted as his eyes turned completely (color), somehow the pleasure was even better than Yesterday and he was addicted to Rindōs cock.
After their breakfast the two showered and (name) got to suck his first cock.
"I gotta head to work, I'll drive you to university"
"I need to get my bag from my house...."
Rindō hummed before the two got ready and went out, stopping at (name)s apartment and Rindō was absolutely nosey while his mate collected the things he needed "ok ready!" (Name) Said happily and they were off.
(Name) Was shy as he was driven to university in a luxury car, at least a 300k car....
"I'll have someone collect you, I'll call you when they're on their way" Rindō said kissing him once more, a trill leaving (name)s lips as energy transfered "go get good grades"
Rindō walked into the building like he usually did though with an extra pep in his step, going to the executive floor to see "the fuck are you all staring at me for?"
"So how's married life?" Koko teased and Rindō groaned at the others who snickered "Ran told us all about him, limping out and looking like he was mauled" Sanzu added snarkily as they all looked at him teasingly.
"Better not get in the way of work" mochi said half teasing half deeply serious and Rindō scoffed "humans die easy"
"Oh he's not human-- well not mostly" ran added and the others looked curious "what is he? Fae?"
"Succubus, a virgin one before rinny got his claws into him"
"Holy shit"
"An Omega to boot"
Rindō was ready to die as the others gawked "damn.... That's like finding a unicorn...."
"We HAVE to meet this little one" kakucho said intrigued and Rindō wanted to die.
Hopefully (name)s classes were better than this shit.
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sapphiremusings · 9 months ago
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bride | vampire!aemond targaryen
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cw: explicit smut, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), dubcon, loss of virginity, breeding kink, blood drinking
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Only the light from the full moon shines down between branches and leaves, illuminating her way as she walks through the forest rarely traveled. She doesn’t know how she got here, still in her shift and robe that has been thrown over her shoulders half-heartedly, the forest floor crunching underneath her slippers, yet an unknown force seemingly presses her forward. Her mind is in a daze, heart thrumming against her chest sporadically and her ears feeling as if they are under water, and through her vision is a fog that refuses to leave, no matter how many times she rubs her eyes. Up ahead, through the heavy brush, sits the abandoned castle that was once called Harrenhal, an accursed place in history. Steadily, she makes her way towards it.
Harrenhal is a mighty fortress, once home to many great houses of Westeros, all in which were struck down by unforeseen tragedies. Whispers of its twisting halls being cursed, haunted by those that died within, scattered throughout the Riverlands, and all along Westeros, until the castle was abandoned. Now, it sits alone, stone burned dark from the days when dragons ruled the skies and their riders sat on the old Iron Throne.
Centuries have passed since then, yet Harrenhal remains the same, merely overgrown in its shrubbery and the vines that trail up its walls. The steady rhythm of her heart begins to speed up as she walks through the courtyard, eyes averting away from the blood stained ground, up towards a window at the very top of the castle, where a single light shines. Like a moth to a flame, she gravitates towards it.
Inside, it’s dark, and she finds herself walking through cobwebs, past open windows that let the cold air in, and up a large number of stairs, until finally, the lit room sits at the end of the hallway. Slowly, her footsteps creek along the floor, her spine tingling at the whisper that enters her ears and swells within her head; “Come to me.”
Her fingers reach out to touch the ancient wood of the door, which sits open just a crack, its hinges squeaking as it opens fully beneath her push. The room is lit by what seems to be a hundred candles, scattered around and perched on almost every surface, including the floor. A large window draws her attention, and standing in front of it, a tall figure, as still as a statue.
He towers over her, even from her spot by the door, lean and strong in his posture. A sheath of silver hair gleams down his back, so beautiful and shiny that it looks like silk, and her hands itch to reach out and run their fingers through the long strands. Slowly, he cocks his head to the side, and her breath hitches as his side profile comes into view among the shadows.
“You’ve finally made it,” he muses, all strong nose and smirking lips, stained the color of roses. Suddenly, he turns, facing her stunned figure. He hums, head tilted. “Come now, bride.”
She thinks he is the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. Even with a scar that runs down the left side of his face, a glimmering sapphire within his missing eye’s socket. His other eye is an alluring shade of violet, though when he turns slightly, it looks almost red. He has a strong jaw and chin, skin porcelain and without color. He looks like a god.
He seems amused by her tied tongue, watching patiently as she tries to form a sentence. When she does, it comes out in a whisper. “Who are you?”
Quickly, so much so that her head spins and she stumbles back, he stands before her, close enough that she can touch him if she merely lifts her hand. He hums, his own hand coming up to run a finger down her cheek, the sharpened nail leaving a small streak of red on the flushed skin. His single eye studies her features, thumb resting under her chin as he tilts her head back, her lips agape. He smiles.
“My name…” he pauses, dipping his head lower, his cold breath fanning across her face, “is Aemond, and I have waited a millenia for you, ābrazȳrys.” (Wife).
The strange word echoed around in her head, and she knew it for High Valyrian, the old language of the dragonlords that once ruled over Westeros with fire and blood, hailed from the kingdom of Old Valyria. Her father is a scholar, one with an interest in history, and she had grown up learning about the years before, from before there were even the Seven Kingdoms. Tales of forest children and the First Men, of the Andals and the ice creatures, were all stories she was told at bedtime.
And then there is his name. Aemond. Another Valyrian name, one she had only heard once. Centuries ago, the ruling House Targaryen was torn to shreds when kin began to fight kin, and their dragons danced among a burning sky. There had been a particular prince that had caught her eye, a one-eyed kinslayer who rode the largest dragon in the world. When the war ended, the cruel Targaryen prince had vanished, and rumors swirled in his wake. Most believe he had succumbed to his uncle, a rogue prince who had a fiery vengeance. Some wonder about his paramour, a so-called witch that had lived in the same abandoned castle she was standing in now.
Her mind reeled over the possibilities. Could he be the long lost prince? After all this time? She knows it is not possible, for too much time has passed, yet he stands before her all the same. Cautiously, she reaches her hand out, resting it against his chest, breath catching within her throat at the stillness beneath his ribs.
He isn't breathing. His heart isn’t beating. It is as if he is a statue, carved from stone.
He gazes down at her, curious. Her voice comes out in a stutter. “H-how…? I don’t understand.”
His other hand encircles her own, pressing it tighter against him, eye fluttering closed as he begins to trace it up his chest, bringing it to his nose. He inhales, nose pressed to her wrist, pulse pounding under a web of blue veins. Her own eyes threaten to close, overwhelmed at the feeling of warmth that overcomes her, traveling from her head to the pit of her stomach, where it goes to rest between her quivering thighs.
He presses his lips to the same spot, opening his eye to peer up at her flushed expression. “You smell so sweet, my love.”
Her head spins, and she sucks in a sharp breath as he begins to kiss down the length of her arm, the silk sleeve of her robe lifting to rest in the crook of her elbow. When his lips reach the fabric, he moves to her shoulder, which the robe has fallen down from, leaving the bare skin exposed. At the nape of her neck, his tongue, surprisingly hot, darts out to lick at her pulse.
“Please,” she murmurs, head tilting to the side and her hands reaching out to grab at his tunic, pulling him closer.
“I am never letting you go, dōna riña,” Aemond muses, moving to press his lips against her jaw. “No, you were born to be my bride, and I shall take what belongs to me.” (Sweet girl).
Cold hands ruck up the skirt of her nightgown, caressing the soft skin of her thighs, which are covered in goosebumps as they shiver in desire. Some part of her is ringing an alarm bell, for she doesn’t yet know how she got here nor why she is here, or even how it is possible for this man… this being, to be before her. He has no beating heart, no working lungs, and though she knows it’s unfathomable, he is a Targaryen prince. With long silver hair and a single purple eye, she believes this in her heart.
Her thoughts come to a halt as long fingers curl under her soaked garment, touching her in a way no man has. A quiet gasp escapes from between her lips, mind at a stand still as his finger dips down to circle at her slick hole, pressing slightly but not yet entering. Instead, he moves to gather more of her arousal between his digits, thumb going to a spot that makes her jump, heart pounding against her heaving chest.
Aemond shushes her, a sweet coo leaving his smirking lips as he watches her with a hooded eye. His thumb rubs circles against that same spot, and a tight coil begins to turn within her stomach, nipples hardened to sharp peaks as she pants.
He brings his face down, forehead resting against her own. “Do you taste as sweet as you smell, ābrazȳrys?”
When she lets out a whimper, knees buckling from beneath her, he lets out a deep groan. Suddenly, with a force and speed that makes her dizzy, he is laying her down on the large bed that is against the wall, the velvet blankets smooth against her hot skin. Her nightgown is bunched up around her hips, robe long forgotten on the stone floor, along with her slippers. He kneels before her, fingers under the band of her undergarments, which he practically rips off her, tearing them down her legs.
“A-Aemond,” she whines, wanton as she writhes atop a sea of red velvet.
His nose nuzzles between her thatch of curls, tongue darting out to lick up her essence, which coats her entirely. Her back arches, hips wiggling away as a broken moan leaves her lips, but he merely throws an arm over her stomach, pressing down and locking her in place. Another moan is ripped from her throat, hands reaching down to nestle in his long strands, fingers curling around them and tugging. A deep rumble is heard within his chest, vibrating against her cunt, which pulses in return.
His tongue is ravenous as he laps up her arousal, swirling around that sensitive spot that makes her toes curl, before moving down to dip into her clenching hole. She leaks even more there, thighs shaking around his head as he pushes his tongue in deeper, until his face is pressed fully onto her weeping cunt. He groans, thrusting the muscle in and out, before retracting and bringing his fingers up to take its place. When his tongue lays flat against her and his finger eases its way through her tight entrance, she nearly screams as her head seems to explode, body vibrating in pleasure as the tightly wound coil in her stomach snaps.
Another finger joins the first, pumping into her steadily as she comes, feeling as if she is floating above her own body. Aemond starts to speak, but the words don’t process as her head buzzes, dazed in a pleasure she has never felt before. Whatever he says, her body clenches at, moving on its own accord with no way of her stopping it and regaining control. When she finally comes down, he doesn’t stop, continuing to lap at her quivering cunt, fingers beginning to curl upwards inside her, searching for a spot that they find almost immediately.
“My sweet, sweet bride,” he grins, resting his head against her thigh, mouth covered in her slick. “I want to lick this pretty cunt every day now. You’ll let me, won’t you?”
She whimpers and moans, tears prickling the corners of her eyes as another wave of pleasure begins to wash over her. He seems pleased by this, eye wide as it flickers between his fingers that are buried deep inside her and her flushed face. “Sȳz riña.” (Good girl).
He finally removes his fingers after her second peak, digits coated in her juices, which he brings up to her lips. Without a word, she opens her mouth, tongue swirling around them as she sucks, the taste of herself causing her blood to heat.
Aemond seems dazed as he stares down at her, member straining against his leathers. The sight both frightens and arouses her, her own mind still in the clouds and seemingly not coming down anytime soon. Slowly, cautiously, she reaches a hand out towards him. He grabs it, laying a kiss on her wrist once more, before moving to grab at her shift. She doesn’t stop him as he pulls it off her, leaving her naked under him. The drafty air of the old room brushes against her skin, and she shivers, nipples hardened and body covered in goosebumps.
His head bends and he wraps his lips around her right bud, hand grabbing at her left breast and squeezing. He’s heavy against her naked frame, the cold leather of his clothing feeling pleasant pressed along her flushed skin. She feels sticky all over, so unbearably hot that she presses herself closer to his odd coldness. He hushes her softly, lifting his head from her bosom and capturing her lips with his own. It’s messy, a clashing of tongues and teeth, and his rigid member feels like a hot iron against her thigh. Dazedly, she runs the tip of her tongue against his front teeth, gasping when a dull pain throbs throughout the wet muscle.
Aemond pulls back sharply, purple eye now a deep red, matching the crimson blood that stains his plush lips. Two sharp canines protrude from the top of his mouth, glimmering under the candlelight. His eye is focused on her lips, which hide her bleeding tongue from his view, and with a groan, he presses back against her, his own tongue forcing its way into her mouth. He caresses the small cut, licking up the blood that seeps from the wound, hands grabbing ahold of her tightly.
With a sigh that almost sounds like a growl, he pulls away so suddenly, and in a blink of an eye, he stands before her naked. Her eyes trail over his figure, porcelain in color and seemingly carved from stone. The light from the moon and the scattered candles create daunting shadows along his form, and through the fog of her mind, she realizes that she wants nothing more than to touch him. She sits up, reaching her hands out towards him, and he complies with her silent request, leaning down to allow her to explore. He watches with a curious eye, still red in color, as her fingers dance along his shoulders and down his chest, brushing over his pink nipples and his lean muscles.
“You’re beautiful,” she murmurs, bringing her lips to kiss the spot where his heart should rest, holding her breath when no heartbeat is felt.
As if reading her thoughts, he pushes her back down against the bed, and her eyes are immediately drawn to between his thighs. A twinge of fear rushes through her at the sight of his hardened cock, its head flushed pink with thick veins that curl up its side. She has never seen one before, still a maiden, waiting for her father to betroth her to whichever man he deems worthy. But she feels as if Aemond’s is too large.
His lips curl into a smirk at her wide eyed gaze, bringing himself forward to lean over her, his silver hair falling around them like a curtain. His body, still cold and heavy against her, like a stone wall. She tenses as his hand goes between them, grasping his member in his palm and lining himself up against her entrance. Once again, his gaze is dark, brows furrowed and jaw tense as he runs the tip up and down her leaking seam, nudging that special spot that makes her spine jolt.
“You are mine, riñītsos. Mine to claim, mine to fuck,” he hisses as his tip begins to press into her tight hole, arms straining to hold himself above her shaking frame. “Mine to breed. Kesan dōrī ivestragī jā.” (Little one), (I will never let you go).
A broken sob leaves her lips as he pushes forward, a sharp pain settling deep between her legs, which only grows the farther he goes inside her. She begins to shake her head, pushing her palms against his shoulders with a moan. “It’s too big… it won’t fit!”
“Shhh,” he hushes her sweetly, lips coming to kiss along her ruddy cheeks. “Don’t worry, dōna riña. I’ll make it fit. You were made for this… for me.”
Her vision is clouded as she nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck, wrapping herself around him and clinging onto him as the pain slowly ebbs away, turning into something entirely different. When he’s sat completely inside her, a wanton moan leaves her lips at the fullness, her head vibrating as she gasps up at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath among the surging pleasure that begins to make its way through every nerve. Her hips begin to cant upwards, the slickness of her arousal helping her to slide against his cock, her fingers gripping tightly to strands of his hair.
“Please…” she whines, nearly sobbing.
He hums, lifting himself up as he begins to move his hips, creating a steady rhythm as his hands grab ahold of her waist. She is tiny below him, so much so that he can see the outline of his cock in her stomach, a sight that makes him groan and speed up, balls tightening in pleasure as her wet heat squeezes him. He eyes her thundering pulse at the base of her neck, his fangs beginning to ache and his throat going dry. His thrusts grow harsher, fingers digging into her flesh as she cries out beneath him.
“Kostagon nyke angogon ao, ābrazȳrys? Kessa ao ivestragī aōha valzȳrys mōzugon hen ao?” (Can I bite you, wife? Will you let your husband drink from you?)
His words come out in a mix between whiny and growling, teeth gritting as he leans down towards her open neck. Though she doesn’t quite understand what he said, only knowing a few words in Valyrian, the neediness in his tone has her back arching, and she greedily pulls him closer. Some submissive part of her wants nothing more than to please him, to give him all he desires and more. She gasps out a small “please.”
He nuzzles his nose under her jaw, rubbing against her pulse as his hips slow down, his thirst growing immensely. He brushes the tips of his fangs against her vein, thrusting his cock deep inside her, before biting down, eye rolling to the back of his head as warm blood spills down into his mouth. He moans, hips stuttering, pulling her as close as he can until they are flushed against each other, listening to her whimpers. She scratches her nails down his back, her cunt pulsing around his heavy cock as her blood flows from her vein, dizzy in her pleasure and loss of blood.
She tastes of the finest ambrosia, rich against his tongue and tingling his tastebuds, and his cock seems to swell in size as he cradles her in his arms, fangs imbedded into her neck. Her vision blurs, the rising wave of her arousal coming to a peak, and she nearly screams out as his hand slides between their stuck bodies, fingers circling at the throbbing bud at the apex of her cunt. His cockhead pounds steadily against a rough patch within in, and he doesn’t let up on his assault as the wave crashes over her, drowning her. She gasps for air, everything silent except for the beating of her heart and the slurping of Aemond’s tongue lapping at her lifesource.
“Sȳz riña,” his own peak begins to wash over him, lips murmuring against her neck and between sips of blood. “Iksā vok. Ñuha vok ābrazȳrys.” (You are perfect. My perfect wife).
With one last groan, he fills her with his seed, taking one last gulp of her before ripping himself away, mouth open against her wound as he pants. His tongue begins to lick at the two points, saliva coating them and slowly healing the marred skin. She is barely awake beneath him, exhausted from her pleasure, yet the sound of his voice and the feeling of his seed hot against her womb makes her throb all over again. She leaves wet kisses along his shoulders and chest, relishing in the feeling of him pressed against her, sweaty in the aftermath of their love making.
Slowly, he pulls out of her, cock only slightly soft, ready for another round. He feels as if he could spend an eternity between her legs, pounding into her tight, wet cunt and breeding her over and over again. For a moment, he has a thought to chain her to this very bed, his obedient little bride. He wants to lap at her sweet blood and lick up the essence of her, until every part of her is claimed. When his seed begins to seep out of her used hole, he brings two fingers to plug into her, refusing to let any of himself leave her. He smiles at her adoring expression.
“Will you marry me now, my lord?”
Aemond brings his coated fingers to her lips for the second time that night, humming in delight when she sucks on them, tongue swirling around and licking up every last drop of their combined arousal.
“Yes, my love. And when the time is right, I will turn you into my eternal bride.”
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godmadeaterribleerror · 5 months ago
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Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing
Series Masterlist
Author's Note: This is story non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being; 1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so. 2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad. Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask! Enjoy!
Word Count: 4k
Chapter Summary/Warnings: See the Masterlist for Summary. Contains usual tags.
Chapter title is from Growing Up by Fall Out Boy.
Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.
Read on A03!
Chapter 2
Want to be tagged? Just ask!
You were not, and never had been, in the business of fighting your wars bloody. You fought them smart, and you fought them dirty. You wouldn’t call yourself callous; if anything, you could use a little more misanthropy in your life, but your moral compass was… subjective. You would steal bread to feed your family, you would cheat if you knew you wouldn’t get caught, and, as you had spent the last six months learning, you would quickly cover your hands in all the blood and grime in the world so that nobody else would have to.
Which was, unfortunately, not a figure of speech.
You let yourself lie in the mud, the cool texture soothing your always-warm skin, and fought the urge to sleep. You could hear someone shouting your name, strung together with an impressive array of obscenities and barely audible over whatever phase of the argument your companions were on, but god, you just could not bring yourself to give a fuck. Sure, the blood on your face was already dry, and the hay mixed into the mud itched and needled at your skin, but you’d live. You’d survived much worse, and at this point it was scientifically impossible for you to get sick, so everyone could just come back for you in a week or two. Maybe three. However long it took for the nightmare sheep to die and Vought’s stock prices to be lower in the mud than where you lay. Maybe a bit longer. Maybe until Homelander wasn’t a you problem anymore. Maybe they’d feed his corpse to the nightmare sheep when they came to get you.
You felt yourself smile a little at that thought. Dead Homelander, weak and pathetic; golden hair grimy; awful blue eyes milky and hollow. Dead Homelander, hands unable to hurt you, mouth unable to twist into that horrific smile. Dead Homelander, pretty face mauled and stupid outfit smelling like shit from being dragged in it to the barn. Dead Homelander, being torn to tiny pieces and eaten by sheep. Dead Homelander, the worst thing that ever happened to you, finishing his reign of terror shat out next to a creek somewhere.
Your smile covered your whole face at this point. It probably looked weird and creepy—the dire, life-or-death situation you were smack dab in the middle of not doing it any favors—but god, it was too perfect a daydream. You could live here forever, in the mud, with your fucked-up little fantasy on loop.
Tragically, you barely had twenty seconds in this ideal world when something hit you in the face.
“What the fuck?!" You sat up, ignoring the hand offering aid from Frenchie, glaring around the barn for your assailant.
“Bout time you join the land of the living, Love. We’ve got a fucking problem, and you don’t get to nap until it’s fixed.” Across the barn, Billy Butcher shot you a cocky grin that didn’t meet his eyes. To be fair, you weren’t sure it ever did.
“You didn’t have to hit me in the face, you ass.”
“That was me,” Frenchie cut in. “And you should thank me; Monsieur Butcher was going to shoot you.”
“You were going to shoot me?!”
“Would’ve felt the same either way, wouldn’t it?” Butcher shrugged.
“No! I’m not bulletproof, you dick!”
“You’d live.”
“So would MM if you shot him! I don’t see you gearing up for that!”
“Well, MM wasn’t sleeping in the middle of a crisis!”
You rolled your eyes, meeting Butcher’s glare from across the room. "Oh, please, you just wanted an excuse to try and kill me!”
“If I wanted to kill you, Sweetheart, it’d look more like this.” Butcher’s arms started to move behind him, where you knew he kept his gun, and you braced yourself, hands fisted at your side.
“Hey!” MM stepped forward, arms raised. “You, if you shoot anyone, I will throw you out to the sheep, I swear to God. And you,” he turned his gaze from Butcher, “turn it down; it’s the middle of winter in Maine, and I feel like I’m standing in the goddamn sun.”
You blinked, realizing that the room had rapidly become impossibly hot, and everyone had moved far as possible from where you stood. The new, alien feeling that sat under your skin was alight and sharp, almost buzzing through you.
“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back. MM lowered his arms, a look of what might have been concern flashing across his face, but turned away as the conversation returned to the murder-sheep issue.
You took a few steps back; nobody stopping you or asking for your contribution, fully allowing you to shrink into the wall. You felt your hand move up to your throat, trying to slow the tense, short breaths passing in and out of your body.
“Try thinking of something that calmed you down before.”
You jumped, not having noticed Victoria Neuman move to your side, and gave her a small frown as you responded. “What?”
“Something familiar. Anything that takes the edge off. Trust me,” she gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ve been dealing with this my whole life. It won’t get easier on its own. And that,“ she gestured to your hand. “Won’t help it long-term.”
You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to drag your hand from your throat. Something happy. Something happy from before. What had been happy before?
Briefly, city lights flashed in your head, a song on a stereo accompanied by your own hum ringing silently in your ears. It vanished just as fast, but something in your chest loosened, and the feeling waned. Glancing over at Neuman, you saw a small nod of approval before she left your side, allowing you a second to steel yourself before following.
You found yourself standing next to Annie, who gave you a quick and, as far as you could tell, genuine smile before returning her attention to the tense conversation between Butcher and Stan Edgar. The former's voice had grown to a shout, somewhat ranting about a goose-chase for the bioweapon supposedly on this farm, the latter just watching with a cold, indifferent gaze.
“Are you done, Mr. Butcher?” Edgar’s voice betrayed no anger or fear; the only signs of emotion on his face his tightened lips and raised brows. “Because if you are, I would finally be able to share my plan to get us out of this hellhole you dug us.”
Butcher scoffed, but before he could call Edgar either a cunt or a twat—both seemed equally plausible at the moment—the stone-faced man continued.
“While I will be the first to admit that an error was made in regards to a possible weapon against Homelander, I could not call today a complete waste. After all, you introduced me to this… charming young woman. The Anomaly,” he turned to you, and a shiver ran up your spine as he used your supe name. “Is going to help us.”
“Uh,” you paled under the pressing eyes of your team. “No. I don’t, uh, I… no.”
“Yes. You will,” Edgar said. “The V variant you carry is Homelander’s attempt to duplicate the original, the one used on Soldier Boy. Most likely a good attempt. And though the original V was unstable and less than suitable in any practical means, it was potent. I do not think I would be wrong in guessing you are just as strong as Soldier Boy, and likely immortal as well.”
“No.” Annie cut it in. “If you’re going to suggest we use her as fucking bait, the answer is no.”
“I was not going to suggest that, Ms. January, why would I waste such a good product on sheep bait? I am proposing that she simply eliminate our issue. I hear sheep catch fire quite easily.”
Everyone was looking at you now. Waiting for you to step forward and say something, anything. But you were frozen, mouth slightly agape, a million scenarios playing out in your head. You saying yes, and failing to do anything but start a forest fire, the barn burning around you as everyone remained trapped inside. You saying no, and the sheep breaking in and eating everyone alive. You saying yes, but losing control and hitting someone, watching them burn to ash as they screamed. You saying no, and everyone just rotting away in the barn; you yourself unable to do the same. The silence hung in the room, taunt with the way breathing had become labored in your chest, and you thanked a god you didn’t believe in as Annie stepped forward.
“She can’t control it,” she told Edgar. “We’ve been working on it for months, and she’s gotten better, but she can’t. It’s more complicated than it usually is, and it’s new.”
“Well, then I guess we should start to pray she gets lucky. I simply will not die in a barn in Maine, and unless anyone else has a plan, I must insist we start moving. Before the structural integrity fails us, and we all become dinner.”
The room was quiet for another moment, Annie looking as if she wanted to argue, but MM spoke first, his voice laced with reluctance.
“He’s right. We don’t have time to come up with something better.” He sighed, turning to you. “You’re the best bet we’ve got.”
“Still a shit bet,” Butcher muttered.
You agreed.
But Edgar was right.
“Everyone will need to stay inside,” you said softly. “Even if it works, this could get… messy.”
Murmurs of agreement were made, and you turned to Kimiko. “You’re the strongest,” you told her. “You can open and close the door the fastest. Crack it open, I’ll run through, and slam it as fast as you fucking can.”
She nodded, moving to the barn's entrance. As she passed you, she paused, giving your arm a small squeeze and you a small smile before she continued. You smiled back, trying to ignore the flash of her anxiety running through you at the touch. Everyone else began to move to the opposite side, hiding pointlessly behind hay and barrels. Neuman paused, though, looking at you with an unreadable expression.
“Something calm,” was all she said before turning to follow Edgar.
Something calm.
City lights. Music. Cheap burgers and cheaper beer. Carefree smiles. Music.
You stood before the doors, giving Kimiko a small thumbs up. She raised her hand, fingers falling from five to four, from four to three.
Two.
One.
You sprinted forward, waited for the sound of a slam behind you, and let go.
The world lit up.
It felt like a hurricane was spilling out of you, like a part of you was being ripped out and launched away. You could see the fire, but not quite feel it. If anything a chill had set itself through your veins, your skin becoming flushed not from heat, but exhaustion. Already darkness was creeping into your eyes, the effort to control the flames splitting the sky taking a toll. It was like a volcano trying to control its eruption, if any of its magma was under the control of the mountain.
But you had to. You could pass out after; you could sleep for a hundred years, but right now you had to control it.
The blood and muck on your skin had been long seared off, the clothes on your back turning into foul-smelling smoke. Your job was long finished now, nothing but bone and sinew remaining of the sheep, but a new problem emerged.
You couldn’t stop. You were burning and burning and burning, and the feeling in your skin wasn’t dulling, but growing. The exhaustion was gone, replaced by pure adrenaline, yanking you up and up, away from relief.
Something calm, Neuman’s voice echoed in your head, and you closed your eyes, trying to hear that long-gone music and see those phantom lights.
It wasn’t working. And you were only getting closer to an edge, a drop into something you’d been so careful to avoid. It was eating you, pushing you further and further. You'd jump into the freezing water of the river but it would just evaporate. You’d bury yourself in the mud but it would just boil, feeding into itself.
Sing, a small part of you begged the rest. Just sing. No use hiding yourself if you’re dead.
You gave in, and began to hum. An empty tune, your voice on key but strained. Slowly, you felt yourself come to, your body returning to your control. You followed the song to the end, and as it ended, just before you collapsed on the ground, relief rushed through you. The fire had lingered, a saving grace from your song. You hadn’t felt any effects, with no hallucinations plaguing your vision before it went dark.
————
The first thing you realized when you woke up was that someone had moved you from the dirt to rest against a tree. The second was that you were no longer naked. Someone had apparently managed to find you clothes, and though they were itchy and a few sizes too big, you were still grateful. The third was that you smelled like shit. You had thought you were covered in blood before, but that now seemed as if it had been bubbles and floral perfume. One might have thought thoroughly barbecued sheep would’ve smelled at least tolerable. They would’ve been wrong. Because you were covered in what of it hadn’t dissipated into smoke, and you smelled like a dumpster full of rubber and fish.
The only person who would come near you was Frenchie, who had forsaken his sense of smell years ago, and had evidently dressed you and pulled you to where you currently sat. Everyone else stood closer to the fence, waiting for their ride back to New York to pull up on the dirt road. You sat alone, eyes still drooping, startled out of your own head as Edgar’s voice cut through the air.
“I must say, I am glad to see my faith in you was not misplaced.”
"Yeah, well,” you shrugged, looking up at where he stood, only a few feet away. “I wouldn’t ask for an encore.”
“I am afraid I may have to. In our prior introduction, it seems you deeply undersold your capabilities.”
“Forgive me, I didn’t have time for self-evaluation when I was being kept in a fucking dungeon.”
Edgar sighed. ���I must apologize for that. Though I was not made aware of Homelander’s little escapade, I recognize that you might feel as though I hold some blame.”
“Not an apology,” you muttered. “And I find that hard to believe.”
“Unfortunate, but I cannot force you to accept the truth.” He looked you up and down once before continuing. “And regardless, it is not what I am here to say.”
“I was wrong only once today, and it was when I said you were just as strong as Soldier Boy. You are not. You are much, much stronger. Not physically, of course, but overall. Overall, your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. I know you wish him dead, I would imagine you prefer it to be painful, and very few deaths inflict the suffering felt when one is burned alive. I suggest you learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. You were looking for a weapon, and I am telling you that you are it. Do not waste yourself.”
And he walked away, leaving your mouth open and your eyes wide. You stood to follow him, painfully pulling yourself to your feet, but made only a few steps before you felt a rock hit your back, and you whipped around to find Frenchie behind you, holding a hose.
“Starlight suggests you take a shower before our drive back,” he said, gesturing to the hose.
You blinked, looking back at Edgar, only to watch him be loaded into an armed van. Your brow wrinkled, a part of you wanting to chase the car down and demand Edgar elaborate, but you just turned back to Frenchie with a sigh.
“Sure, just count down before you–“
You cut yourself off as the freezing water hit you in the face.
Thankfully, Frenchie had thought to bring a towel—a gross, possibly moldy towel—but a towel nonetheless, and he handed it to you the moment the hose-down was finished. As his arm stretched out, you noticed a deep gash poking out from his sleeve.
“I can fix that,” you gestured to him. “I mean, I’ll have to touch you, but I won’t tell anyone what I feel, and you won’t have to let MM give you stitches.”
Frenchies frowned, looking at his arm as if only he now noticing his injury. “Are you sure? You must be tired, and–“
“I’ll be fine. Won’t hurt me for more than a few seconds.”
He hesitated, but gave you a nod, rolling up his sleeve before offering his injury to you. You took a deep breath and placed your hand over the wound. It hit you fast, it always did, the onslaught of emotions. You were suddenly twice as tired, a powerful and painful guilt sitting on your shoulders and a self-loathing that was familiar, but not yours, carved itself into your chest. After a second to adjust, you started to work. Your own arm, mirror to Frenchies, began to sting as the skin turned raw and red. You bit your tongue, ignoring it and focusing on keeping yourself going until the cut was gone, the skin was healthy, and there were no signs of any issues in the first place.
“Huh,” Frenchie stated at his unmarked arm, glancing at your own, which was already fully healed itself. “Merci.”
“No problem,” you offered him a grin. “Just don’t tell Butcher you accepted my evil supe healing.”
“You do not,” he frowned slightly. “You do not feel everything, yes? Just, simple, children’s emotions?”
It was your turn to frown. “Children’s emotions?”
“Oui. Joy, fear, sadness. No more.”
Oh. You hesitated to answer, debating if it was worth the lie. It would make him feel better, you reasoned with yourself.
But he wouldn’t trust you, a little voice whispered. And he’ll hate you.
You settled on the truth. You didn’t think you could stand another person hating you.
“No, I feel… everything,” you admitted. “But I wasn’t lying before. I won’t tell anyone.” You paused, watching his face carefully as you continued. “I won’t tell Kimiko.”
A look of shock passed over his face, but Frenchie nodded. “Good. Good. Tres bien,” he gave you a grateful look. “Merci.”
“Anytime,” you gave him a close-lipped smile, and the two of you returned to your group just as your ride pulled up. As you loaded into the car and began the long, tense drive, Edgar’s words replayed on loop in your head.
Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s, surpasses Homelander’s. Learn how to control your gift, and learn fast. Do not waste yourself.
Do not waste yourself.
You thought back to the last time you saw Homelander. Though it had been from a distance, and he had not even known you were there, your body had frozen. Fear, white-hot and all consuming, had coursed through you. You had almost passed out from it. If you had been face-to-face with him, it might have killed you all on its own.
Do not waste yourself.
You couldn’t fight Homelander. You just couldn’t. You could be capable of overpowering him tenfold, and you still wouldn’t be able to fight him. You knew, in your heart, that his eyes would meet yours and you would be sent right back into that tiny white room, feel his hands holding you down, feel that hollow, empty hopelessness leak from you into the air.
But he needs to die, a small voice whispered in your head. And you’re the Anomaly. You could kill him. You’re the only one who could stop him forever, make sure he never hurts anyone, ever again.
No. No, you couldn’t be the only one. Yes, the biochem weapon had been a bust, and no one else could possibly rival Homelander and come out of it alive. But there had to be other options.
Your power surpasses Soldier Boy’s.
Do not waste yourself.
An idea started to form in your head. A terrible idea. A reckless and dangerous idea. But an idea all the same. And as it became fully formed, you managed to convince yourself more and more that it might somehow work.
Now all you had to do was convince everyone else.
——-
“No. No fucking way.”
The air in the meeting room was tense, mouths hanging open in shock. MM was glaring at you with a disdain you had previously only seen directed at Butcher, Butcher watched at you with a reverence you hope to never see on his face again, Grace Mallory looked all at once disgusted, intrigued, and impressed, and President-Elect Singer frowned as he listened, but gave you a nod to continue regardless.
“I know it’s crazy, but the problem last time was that you couldn’t control him, right? And I could. You can have us isolated, making sure we're out of the public eye and away from any possible collateral until you need us. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him in line, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me.”
“I, for one, think this is an amazing idea. Best one I ever heard,” Butcher grinned at you. “Worst case scenario, it goes sideways, he kills her, we knock him out, and everyone still wins.”
“What part of ‘he wouldn’t be able to hurt me’ don’t you understand?” You snapped back.
“What if he blasts you with his fucking reactor?” MM pushed. “Makes you just another human? What’s your plan then?”
“That wouldn’t work on me,” you responded dryly.
Butcher snorted, but Mallory raised an eyebrow.
“Really? What makes you so sure?”
“One of the tests that was run on me was putting me in a room and blasting it with nuclear energy. They dropped Hiroshima on me, and it did jack shit. Soldier Boy throwing a temper tantrum won’t be any different.”
“And how do you think you could control him?” Singer asked.
“I can burn up to 5500 degrees Celsius. That’s hotter than a bomb. Won’t kill him, will knock him the fuck out. And it’ll hurt.”
“I just can’t believe I didn’t think of this sooner,” Butcher mused. “It’s fuckin' perfect.”
You glowered at him. “Stop helping me.”
MM looked at Mallory. “The fact that America’s number one unstable asshole,” he gestured to Butcher. “Is on board should be enough to tell you how stupid this is.”
“Number two unstable asshole,” you said under your breath.
“Thanks, Love,” Butcher winked at you.
“Yeah well, don’t be so pleased. You’re only just losing to Homelander.”
Butcher shrugged, and you returned your attention to Singer. “Sir, please trust me. I, more than almost anyone, know how dangerous this could be. But Homelander is more dangerous. We needed a weapon,” you echoed Edgar’s words. “This is it.”
Singer nodded slowly, and MM scoffed.
“You can’t be seriously considering this. He’s a fucking unstable asshole murderer and a goddamn liability. What if we wake him up, she can’t control him, and he gets free?”
“We said whatever it takes,” you snapped. “I wouldn’t be pitching this if I thought it wouldn’t work. I can control him, I promise.”
“You’d bet your life on it?” Mallory asked.
“My life?” You snorted. “In a heartbeat.”
Mallory sighed. “Then fine,” she shot a look to Singer. “I’ll sign off if you do.”
“Sir,” MM said, sounding almost desperate. “I am begging you, do not do this.”
Singer just shook his head slightly. “Desperate times, they make you do desperate things. If I saw another way, I’d take it, but for now we’ll have to make do. I approve the request.”
“Thank you, sir.” You gave Singer a grateful nod, ignoring the searing feeling of MM’s anger.
“Don’t thank me, girl. If this goes south, it’s your head. Grace, set up a safe house for them ASAP, if I’m signing off on this I want it moving fast.”
Mallory nodded. “It’ll take a few days. We’ll have to transport him there before we wake him up.”
“Do whatever you have to,” Singer said as he stood to leave. “If this is our only shot, we can’t afford to miss.”
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slutt4ellie · 6 months ago
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Summer Blossom
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masterslist
PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4
Falling in love is hard. Worse when you know it can’t happen.
Summary -> It’s the summer of ‘73, the absolute last thing you wanted to do is spend summer with your dad all the way in his farm house, which just so happened to be located in the country, far from all your friends. That was until you met her..
Warnings -> Homophobia / Reader denies feelings / Tiny bits of angst (for now) / Avoidant / Reader is 18, Ellie is 19 / Guy hits on reader / Slight bits Jealous!Ellie / Blood! / Description of injuries / Getting outed / (Eventual smut!)
WC: 6.9k
(Not proofread!)
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Summer in your dad's farmhouse.
That was easily the last place you wanted to be. 
It’s the summer of ‘73, and your mom had the bright idea of getting some quality time in with your dad.
The reason why is because soon enough you’ll be packing up far away from your hometown and going to collage.
Your parents split up young, 10 to be exact, there were no hard feelings that came along with it, it just happened.
Almost naturally, they simply just grew apart, as some people do. 
You decided to stay with your mom, with all your friends being in that area. Another split you weren’t really willing to lose.
Your dad was always close, 30-45 minutes out to the straight country. 
Nothing but grass and farmland, meaning you didn’t visit a lot. 
On special times like your birthday and holidays, your dad or mom would travel to see each other. 
They named it important to you, but you’ve always convinced yourself it didn’t bother you.
So when your mom suggested you should go up to your dad's for the summer (and wasn’t taking a no) you ended up here.
You didn’t like it to say the least.
It was hot, none of your friends were here, and the last time you’ll ever be freshly graduated at 18 years old you were spending it alone. 
It didn’t help you were also an only child. 
You had no one but your dad. 
So now your in your current predicament. 
You were lying down on your bed. 
Knees pointed up towards the ceiling as you’re slowly drowning in the heat. Which feels like it’s covering each square inch of your room. 
You were reading a book yet weren’t paying attention, the creeks of the floorboards and the birds chirping outside your window had your focus dwell in many different ways. 
A shitty thing that was always on your mind was the fact that you didn’t know if there were people your age, your dad only has one car and it’s strictly named for business purposes. 
It wasn’t until the floorboard creeks were slowly coming up the stairs and the sound of a car pulling in which finally made you drop the book putting it closely beside you. 
There were a few short knocks and your dad's voice came through. 
“Hey, kid?” Your dad mumbles outside your bedroom. 
It was always awkward with him. 
Not because he was a shit dad or anything. On the contrary, he was nice, he always tried his best and was there for you. You guys just didn’t relate much.
He liked hands-on activities, like working on cars, taking care of the many farm animals, and stuff that involved getting dirty.
You enjoyed, staying inside, not getting dirty, sitting in an area with air conditioning, which is the main thing your dad's place fucking lacked.
“Yup?” You sit up rubbing your hand across your sweaty forehead. “Come in” You awkwardly continue. 
Your door opens and your met with your dad. The first thing he says is “You okay?” He asks noticing your tired expression and sweaty face. 
“Yeah.” You sigh slightly exasperated. “Just..” You pause. “Hot.” 
You’re almost confident you’ve never been in a more awkward situation and the fact he’s your own blood, your father for crying out loud? It made it worse. 
He follows by just nodding mumbling a quick agreement. 
He doesn’t talk for what feels like forever. But once his mouth finally opens you know he’ll continue. 
“My buddy is comin’ over?-“ He paused then smiled “He’s here actually!” The smile continues, he’s just hoping you’ll finally get out of your bedroom, at least for a little.
He hated seeing you bored by his mere presence. 
“Daughter around your age is downstairs.” He perks. 
It caught your attention too. Because maybe having someone who might relate to you will ease the straight boredom which is being caused from this house. 
“Oh yeah?” You ask slowly, swinging your legs over your bed before standing up.
“Yup!” He smiles and continues. 
“Been tellin’ them about how you’re coming down for the summer- she seems to be bored out of her mind too.” He chuckles. 
You then sigh, because you kinda feel bad for making it so obvious you were bored. Made you feel like a mean daughter. 
You know not being able to deal with the simple presence of him.
“Dad-“ You try, obviously trying to apologize.
He waved his hand dismissively. “No-! Trust me I get bored round these parts too.” He smiles not trying to cause you guilt. “So hot movin’ around seems like a liability.” He dryly chuckles.
You chuckle too. “You’re telling me..!” 
Once you finish your sentence it’s ended with a nod.
He tilts his head in the bedroom’s door direction suggesting through mannerisms you two should go downstairs.
To which you follow. 
You hear talking. The girl downstairs seems to be hesitant, you can’t really hear what she’s saying, having reminiscences of a mumble. Even so, sounds like a short “I really don’t have to meet her-“. 
But she was quickly cut off when she saw you.
You guys both lock eyes as you're walking down the stairs. 
Just another awkward moment you didn’t need! 
She has green eyes, they seem vibrant while contrasted with the sun that gleams through the window.
Her hair represents a faded red falling more along the lines of brunette, it’s in a shaggy mullet, a bold choice compared to what other people have.
Something you instantly noticed.
Despite the blazing hot sun, which is creating what feels like deathly temperatures, she’s accompanied by a skinny pair of jeans and a t-shirt. 
And in this moment you’ve came to the realization you’ve probably never seen a girl dressed like that before.
It looks like an outfit a male would wear, which throws you for a loop. 
Even though she was mumbling about how she “really didn’t need to meet you” her posture turns straight and a smile presents. 
The man who you can only assume is her father talks. 
“Your old man tells me a lot about you- shame we haven’t properly met yet.” He smiles holding out his hand to shake. 
You awkwardly smile stepping forward to hold out your hand to simply shake back. “I’m Joel- this is my daughter, Ellie.”
His grip peels from yours and he grabs Ellie’s shoulder lightly, making her take a step forward in front of him, she’s now facing directly towards you. 
He feels like it’s to give her a light push to properly introduce herself. Knowing that Ellie wouldn’t take that step on her own.
“Nice to meet you.” Ellie smiles nodding her head awkwardly. 
“Yeah, you too.” You smile back at her. 
It’s awkward, everyone in that room senses it. 
So Joel speaks. 
“Ellie’s got a truck!” Joel perks up, an almost suggestive tone leaking. 
“Was thinkin’ the two of you could head down to town...Your dad was talking about a barbecue” He smiles the last sentence directed towards you.
Ellie’s head turns and she shoots him literal death glares.
Because why in his right mind would he suggest the two of you should go into town. A 10-minute drive after not even knowing each other for 5 minutes. 
What would you even talk about?!
Your dad instantly hops on the idea. Thinking it’s about time for you to step out and find a friend down here.
“Great idea!” He smiles. 
You and Ellie both look at each other, neither of you trying to hide the tired sighs which leaked through your lips..
You both don’t want to really go. 
“Okay..” Ellie nods before turning to the front door. 
“We’ll be back in like 30?” Ellie says.
All you do is follow behind her, she opens the door for you first, before you both are hit with the sun. 
Ellie unlocks her truck hoping in the driver's seat. 
She stretches over the centre console opening the door before you reach it.
All you feel like you can do is mumble a quick thank you. 
And that was the start of the painful car ride. 
It took 4 minutes at least of straight silence for one of you to talk. 
Even though Ellie didn’t want to. She spoke first. 
“So- you like it here so far.” She asks clearing her throat.
“None of my friends are here- so like it’s a bit..boring…” Once you finish your sentence, it’s followed by Ellie nodding to show understanding. 
“Yeah- it’s not bad though. Like once you get used to it.” Ellie smiles tilting her head towards you before turning back.
“You live here?” You ask. You’re somewhat interested..hardly... 
“Yeah- my dad always wanted land..! When I was like 2 we moved, I really don’t remember much before this.” Ellie says looking at the road. 
You just slowly nod. 
“What do you do…? Like all the time.” You ask. 
Ellie’s face does form into a frown. Ellie’s not popular, she’s never been popular. There was a point where she had a good amount of friends.
And that came down in a big crash.
Yet still never popular, not through middle school nor high school, nothing. 
Even though she knows why, she doesn’t plan on telling you. 
“Friends are a big thing!” She lies with a chuckle, hoping it comes across as sounding truthful. 
You buy it, you didn’t even assume it was lying. And plus, say you knew she was lying, you didn’t really care. 
You simply didn’t know Ellie. 
“We close?” You ask Ellie, your tone is dry, and she can easily read you don’t care about what she has to say. 
Ellie nods “Few minutes.” 
And that went in a blur because it wasn’t long till you and Ellie were walking into the grocery store. She leads you to the section that displays all the items you could possibly need for a barbecue. 
Ellie crouches down about to speak before a voice draws both of your attention. 
“Oh, Williams! Didn’t realize you were here?”
Ellie recognizes it immediately. And her face was already red out of pure embarrassment. 
It was ironic, the same guy who made her life shit throughout high school was still sulking in the same area she was. 
Ellie often saw him as the prime example of peaking in high school.
He was horrible to her, constantly. 
Jack McNeill. 
He was a “perfect jock”. 
He caught every girl’s attention, with his blonde hair and blue eyes. Something that drew everyone’s physical attraction. 
She remembers it firsthand when her best friend fell for him. A story she doesn’t feel like even thinking of right now. 
And in all fairness, he needed the looks, his personality was shit, and she knew that more than anyone. 
But still, everyone who knew him loved him, unless you were one of the ‘lucky’ ones who gained his unwanted attention. The one where he’d practically torment you.
“Who’s this?” He smiles with a cocky expression, it’s directed towards you.
Ellie frowns and looks at you.
You guys lock eyes, Ellie’s eyes are silently expressing that she’s sorry. But you can’t tell why.
Nothing that’s been said needed any sort of apology.
“Or…is she for you?” He chuckles. Just by his tone you know it’s lurking with an accusatory tone. Having slight reminiscence of disgust.
You didn’t get what he meant by that comment “Is she for you?”.
It felt like you were being bided on. 
And it hardly made sense! Why would he direct that comment to Ellie, someone who you hardly knew?? 
And who’s a fucking girl? 
“She’s my dad's like- it’s his friend's daughter..” Ellie quickly stands up trying to get out of this conversation as fast as she can, even though it’s hardly working. 
Ellie knows she doesn’t owe Jack an explanation, but he doesn’t ever stop pushing once he starts, something you’d expect from a toddler, not someone who turns 20 in a month.
“Ahh…What’s your name?” He smiles at you, it physically makes you cringe at how his tongue pokes out of his mouth out of pure concentration. 
You look at Ellie and then back at him. 
You know 100% this look and this sentence worked on other people, you see how confident he looks, it’s almost gross.
“We’re in a grocery store?” You chuckle tilting your head.
“Mhm?” He questions. 
Ellie’s looking back and forth between the both of you. Starting to think the charm that Jack seems to have on every fucking girl on the planet will end up working on you.
So she can’t even help but roll her eyes. 
“Thank you, but no thank you.” You nod politely. 
“Wanna go?” You question turning to Ellie. Now realizing she has everything that she actually needs in hand. 
Ellie just nods looking at you then back at Jack, she has a smirk plastered all over her face. She didn’t care if you and Jack went out or something, it just helped to see his face drop.
It’s like it’s the first time he’s ever faced rejection.
Granted it probably is.
It only took till you guys got outside for you to talk. 
“That guy is a dick?” You smile looking at Ellie.
Ellie also smiles, nods lightly, and talks. “Little bit huh?” 
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And even though that moment seemed so insignificant from any other viewpoint, it genuinely felt like that’s what sprouted yours and Ellie’s friendship.
And at this point picturing a summer day without her seemed simply impossible.
Because after spending almost a month together, being apart seemed odd.
It had you basically dreading on the fact that summer will eventually end, and you’ll be far from not only your family or friends.
But you’ll be far from Ellie.
She easily fit in the category of a friend. Just you felt like you’ve never connected to someone so fast, meaning calling her one, was something you’ve never fully thought about.
Because Ellie didn’t seem like just a friend?
She seemed different.
Either way it didn’t matter. You always tried to shrug off any thoughts before they could even form.
All she realistically is, is a friend.
Strictly.
I guess you just hated finding yourself constantly overthinking when it comes to Ellie.
The lines of friendship were blurring, and you didn’t like that...
Like when you guys wouldn’t act like just friends, situations where you would share the same bed during sleepover, when you and her would lay on your wood floor (since it was cooler than the air) and her head would be on your shoulder peeking over at the book you were reading.
It was the little things.
You’ve come to the consensus forgetting about it would somehow ease the awkward and unwanted feelings.
I guess it also didn’t help Ellie and Joel practically come over everyday. Which allowed your friendship to grow all that more.
Even though you guys were different, extremely fucking different you felt like you got each other in the more important ways.
Because you told Ellie certain things, and she told you some back.
She was a secretive person, it didn’t bother you much, because you’ve always labeled her as shy, since your first interaction that is.
Even though she was already socially awkward her being shy really just seemed like an add on.
She’s never would expand on how high school was for her, if she had friends, a boyfriend even. She never fucking talked about it.
You’ve never met one of Ellie’s friends, you’ve asked, but she comes up with the same reason. Or in Ellie’s mind an easy excuse to stop the questions from coming any further.
“There out for the summer.” Ellie mumbles following you up the stairs to your bedroom.
Ellie and Joel arrived around 5pm, your dad quickly suggested the idea to have dinner with them.
Of course that went with a shit ton of talking, with a hint of alcohol. Your dad always got chatty when liquor was involved.
Joel also got a few drinks cracked in him, nothing heavy but enough to tell Ellie that they should just crash at your dads place for the night.
In order for them to do some “manly bonding.” Or whatever the fuck they called it?
it ended up making it easier for Ellie, because now that the both of them were staying the night, Ellie didn’t have to carry a stumbling Joel back into their place.
So here you are.
Walking up the stairs with Ellie going on about how you really wanted to meet her friends you read the clock.
It’s only 8pm. The sun is still out due to the earth's tilt..
Which worked in your favour.
Because you had an idea.
After Ellie grumbled her little “There out for the summer.”
All you can reply with is a short sigh.
“Okay what about parties?” You ask looking at her.
“Parties?” Ellie laughs thinking you’re joking.
Both of your legs moving into your bedroom.
“What?” You question turning around to get a good look at her.
Awkwardly it created a close environment for the both of you, practically nose to nose to be exact. To which you backed up as Ellie stayed frozen. Cheeks tinted pink.
You stepped back probably as soon as it happened. You didn’t talk, just looked at her.
Ellie then snaps out of it, trying to forgot that fact she definitely felt your breath on her lips. Ellie was starting to hate herself for even thinking about it.
She knows the both of your are friends. And more importantly you don’t even know about it.
Ellie clears her throat watching as you backed up, quick reminder you definitely didn’t see Ellie like that. Not that it mattered.
“Okay since when do you party?” She ask tilting her head, a quick smile painting right on.
“Whatever?? Tonight- let’s go!” You smile looking at her.
Ellie shakes her head and laughs. “No?? Your dad would kill me? It’s going to get late and- what fucking party.”
“My dad and Joel wouldn’t even notice El? Their drunk. And plus It’s summer! There’s 100% a party happening.”
Ellie sighs.
“Actually?” Ellie questions, she’s praying you’re joking. Because again, she’s not the most popular person around town.
You tilt your head and smile. “Please..!” You sigh out.
“I don’t know..?” She shrugs, and looks at you before continuing. “I just- like what if it’s not fun?” Ellie’s trying to think of any lie that’s realistic. You know other than ‘I don’t feel good’
You look at her shining one last smile hoping it will work.
“Okay- okay fine.” Ellie sighs dramatically, you quickly hug her and pull back.
“Okay let’s get ready!” You suggested.
“No?” Ellie laughs.
“What do you mean ‘no’!” You chuckle grabbing her hand to make her sit down on your bed.
“What if there’s a cute guy you see?” You say suggestively which gets Ellie to cringe back and shake her head. That wasn’t happening..
“I doubt it?” She chuckles looking at you.
A frown is now present on your face. Ellie was so avoidant when it came to the subject of boyfriends. She seemed physically repulsed by them, almost men in general.
And it was getting hard to ignore it now.
You’ve figure she might of had a secret boyfriend, but that was shut down real quick after Ellie denied for a solid 10 minutes after you asked her.
You just didn’t get why she was acting like this.
“No?” You question.
“‘No.” Ellie confirms looking at you. “Trust me I won’t see any guy there that I actually, you know, like.” She shrugs.
“Why?” You ask.
Ellie quickly stands up. Putting on a fake smile. “Let’s go!”
It almost gave you whiplash, I mean it wasn’t new. There’s been countless moments where Ellie just disregarded whatever you said. The first time it happened it ended with you laughing, thinking it was a simple joke.
But she does it a lot. If she doesn’t want to answer, she try’s to act like you didn’t even say it.
Now creating an endless cycle you were genuinely getting tired of.
“Okay.” You follow after Ellie.
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You were driving with Ellie. She knew a party nearby. Not that she was invited, she just heard around.
Ellie and you haven’t really spoken since the moment in your room. It’s not like your mad at her, just the secretive act has been getting..annoying.
You told Ellie a lot about you- and it’s like she’s scared to give you anything fucking personal information.
“What..?” Ellie sighs turning over to you before her eyes gaze back on the road ahead.
One hand is on the steering wheel while the others on the centre console.
“I didn’t say anything..?” You shrug looking at Ellie.
Ellie nods awkwardly with a twinge of nervousness. She knows herself she’s being avoidant, and she doesn’t want to lose you because of that.
After Ellie finishes her little nod she talked.
“Are you mad at me?” Ellie ask looking back to you, your gaze is glued to the window purposefully avoiding her.
Ellie hated that.
“No” You just sigh and finally lock with Ellie’s side profile. “You just don’t tell me shit.” You tilt your head.
“I tell you shit.?” Ellie shrugs and smiles trying to ease the tension in the car.
She’s eyeing you once again.
“Get your eyes back on the road.” You groan rolling your eyes, Ellie’s mannerisms were hard not to fold over, which is annoying..
Ellie shifts her eyes to the road.
“What do you wanna know?” She now ask, her teeth are slotted in the bottom of her lip out of nervousness.
Yet her poker face is good enough for you not to get the memo.
“I don’t know- about you?” You say shrugging.
“There’s not much to tell?” Ellie says with a chuckle.
The car stops and she gets out first before opening the door for you. “You’re such a fucking liar?” You chuckle hopping out.
“Im-“ Ellie try’s to defend it, but you shake your head.
“No i’m getting your drunk and i’m hearing all about your little secrets” You joke with a smile.
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Yet Ellie definitely wasn’t the one who got drunk.
Because just an hour later you were a slurring, stumbling over your feet trailing back to no other then the kitchen.
There sat the blonde hair blue eyed guy who you turned down a little over 2 weeks ago.
His poster straightens up when he sees you.
“Hey..” He smiles and grabs a red solo cup before handing it to you.
“Hi!” You say excitedly.
He tilts his head and looks around, looking for the other girl who can realistically turn down what’s happening. “Where’s Ellie?”
“Sheees..” You slur looking around, you don’t notice her figure. Which is strange because she definitely stands out.
You quickly turn your attention back to him. “Not sure!” You chuckle.
So does he.
With that he steps forward.
“You’re Jack, yeah?” You ask remembering how Ellie told you on the way back to your dad's place. Leaving the grocery store you two were previously in.
“Mhm?” He smiles moving his hand to your shoulder.
“Do you know my name?” You ask, you notice the way his eyes light up, clearing thinking of something, your eyes on the other hand are glossy from the liquor coursing through your veins..
You’re definitely not thinking straight.
“Why don’t you tell me upstairs?” He suggest. The cocky tone from the grocery store coming right back.
You’re not a hook up type person, you’ve genuinely never been. You can tell by Jacks suggestive tone he’s doesn’t just want to ‘learn your name’. Fuck you’re not stupid.
But..there’s thoughts in your mind about Ellie. Shit you don’t like, stuff you’d never admit. Not even if you were in a life or death situation.
When you’re talking to Jack. They start to falter, go quiet no longer disrupting you.
So you nod. Hesitantly, while a flash of Ellie’s face becomes apparent.
When his uncomfortably big hands loop to your wrist, it’s more forceful than you’d like, yet you agree. You guys are both walking to the stairs, you’re almost falling over due to still being drunk.
“What the fuck?” He groans feeling a sudden grip on his shoulder. His eyes are turning around as yours are too. Once you see green eyes you just sigh. Those previous thoughts coming back.
“What do you want Williams?” He smiles looping his arm around your waist. It ended up closing the little distance you too just previously had.
Ellie doesn’t answer her eyes just go to his arm, the one that is looped around your waist to be exact.
“We're going back.” Ellie says sternly looking back at the two of you.
“Jealous?” He taunts stepping forward.
“Oh fuck off.” Ellie says trying to step closer towards you, something you wouldn’t mind right now. It’s awkward watching this whole interaction on the sidelines. It feels like you’re just spectating.
He steps forward again his arms pushing Ellie back from her chest forcefully?
“Your little friend knows then?” He questions turning back to you. Just by the way he’s speaking down to Ellie. You know it’s not good.
“What?” You say looking back at Ellie. Her face is pale mixed with a bit of red. It’s out of embarrassment, yet you can also tell she’s scared of what he might say.
Jacks laugh fully echos in the house, it’s  obnoxious and loud.
Currently being the only thing you can hear right now.
He then shrugs looking at Ellie.
“Wanna tell her, or should I Williams?” Jack questions licking his lips, it’s taunting.
Ellie doesn’t answer, she can’t answer. Her whole body went numb, because she really can’t experience this feeling once again.
From the silence Jack then shrugs mumbling a “So be it?”
“You know, the fact she’s a little dyk-“
It went in a flash. That whole moment.
The last thing you saw was Ellie’s fist flying straight at Jacks face, Ellie got a good hit in. But his arm was swinging back, quicker and way harder.
And soon enough, despite being the drunk one. You had Ellie’s arm slinging around you while you both walked out.
There was other party attendees rushing out of the door. Some laughing, some even yelling at Ellie. Calling her shit you wouldn’t ever repeat.
Then there was Jack, fuck was he the worst of it. Sure people were saying horrible things to Ellie as she walked out.
But each one of his words made you wince.
You ran an unlocked Ellie’s car before opening the back seat so she has a place to sit down comfortably..
Her nose had to be broken. It was practically spraying with blood and you didn’t know what to do.
Ellie’s hands were shaking and her eyes had a few tears leaving it. Which she attempted to hide from you.
Didn’t work though.
You lightly rub her cheek with your hand trying to wipe them just as fast as they come out.
Soon pulling back wondering if it’s to weird.
“You have something I can stop the bleeding with??” You asked probably just as panicked as her. All she could respond with is a quick nod of her head and a few words.
“T-trunk” Ellie says.
You run to the back of the trunk and look. She has a spare white tank top.
Once you run back you apply light pressure to her nose.
Ellie holds your wrist trying to calm her nerves the fuck down.
“Breathe El..” You say trying to get her to calm down.
Ellie’s chest rose slowly and you felt her breath come through the balled up tank top.
Your other hand went to her jaw then neck.
“What was that Ellie?” You say looking at her.
You heard the stuff they were calling her, it would be a ironic and nearly impossible for everyone in that party to randomly come up with the same insult.
Not to mention the shit Jack was saying.
Some talk of an ex best friend was mentioned..You heard all of it..
Ellie fucking knew that too. So all she can reply with is a simple shake of her head.
And this time you understood why she was being so fucking secretive.
Because say you were like her, and in that position. You’d probably avoid it too.
So you’re finally accepting that fact she doesn’t want to talk about it..
Ellie stands up abruptly causing you to flinch back.
She seems colder now. Like she’s masking clear embarrassment with the face of no feelings.
“We can go.” It’s a statement not a question. Ellies whole personality shifted. You watch as she trails back to the trunk throwing the bloody shirt somewhere.
Ellie clears her throat and gets in the car she’s facing only forward, she physically can’t look at you.
What if you knew now.
The one thing she’s been trying her absolute hardest to hide.
And why?
Because Ellie’s a coward.
Probably the biggest fucking one, she can’t go through the feeling of losing another friend simply because she’s..
————
“You’re lesbian..?” Emma says. It sounds like she scared to ask. Worrying about any confirmation that Ellie might ensue.
Emma and Ellie have been friends for longer then both of them could even remember. There was a point where they weren’t friends though. About 4 months. That was until Ellie was born.
So they’ve been together in the little moments like preschool, and middle, finally reaching where they are now, high school. They’ve always been together.
They met through each others parents. Ellie’s dad Joel, and Emma’s father Adam were practically the same men. They liked outdoors, fishing, shit like that.
Ellie swears if she hadn’t known better you could even call them twins.
There was only one difference.
Emma’s family was an extreme stereotypical “Perfect family”.
They had a nice house, christian, perfect looking animals and kids, plus Ellie’s almost confident she hasn’t even heard Emma’s mom swear. Not once.
Yet she just sorta assumed it never passed to Emma?
Ellie’s whole face is red. All she can reply with is a nod. She’s embarrassed, yet not scared.
Because fuck. Emma’s her best friend.
She’s never once considered the fact maybe Emma wouldn’t accept her? Because she simply could not see why.
It’s still Ellie. It just felt like a tiny part of her was hidden.
“D-do you like me?” Emma stands off her bed. Now concerned with the fact Ellie’s in love with her or something. Which just wasn’t true.
Ellie loved Emma, of course. But fucking platonically. She wasn’t alluded with her or something, it almost felt like Emma was joking.
Either way Ellie’s face dropped, because out of all the possibilities she wasn’t fucking excepting this one. A one where maybe Emma didn’t accept her.
“Wh-what n-no!” Ellie’s a stuttering mess now standing up off Emma’s bed. She feels all her nerves turn to jelly. What does she say?
“The fuck Ellie- we’ve- we’ve slept in the same bed before.“ Emma’s tone is loud. It’s like she’s yelling at Ellie now. Like she’s mad.
And Ellie’s never been able to read a face more clear then Emma’s that day.
Pure disgust.
“E-Em?” Ellie try’s stepping forward trying to reach her hand over.
Emma shakes her head and backs up again, she’s acting like Ellie’s infected. Ellie’s searching for any signs of hope. Like it’s some sick joke. Her eyes are just trailing up and down..
“You know I like Jack?” Emma says.
“I kn-“ Ellie starts again, quickly stopped by brown eyed girl.
“Ellie get the fuck out!” Emma yells..
The sound made her wince. Emma never yelled like that, none the less directed towards Ellie.
That night Ellie stumbled out of Emma’s house tears streaming down her face, because she didn’t really have anyone after that. Sure she had some other friends, Joel would be there for her. But fuck..it was Emma.
Someone she simply couldn’t replace, not if she wanted to.
The next day was probably worse.
Ellie woke up to Joel sitting pulled into their kitchen table a little mug rested in the middle of his hands, which was of course full of coffee.
Joel’s never up early, so she already knew she was fucked.
It started off with a short.
“Kid you know I love you. No matter what.” He sighs out.
“Adam called me. He was tellin’ me about some crush on Emma?” He shrugs standing up.
“Is that true?” He questions.
Ellie’s eyes are already glossy, she really didn’t need to be immediately reminded about the disaster which was last night..
“N-no I-I don’t like her?” Ellie puts her head in her hands wiping the tears just as fast as they come.
Joel stands up wrapping her in a bear hug.
“I’m not being buddies with someone who will talk badly about my family.” Joel crouches down reassuring Ellie.
So yes Joel did end up taking it well. Ellie explained everything. What Emma said. Everything.
She just wasn’t prepared for the shit show at school.
Because apparently Emma called Jack McNeill whining about some shitty betrayal. Like she was the one who was hurt.
So not only did Ellie lose Emma, she lost all her remaining friends, her whole school would talk about her like she’s not there, the girls locker rooms would be cleared if she were to ever step foot in them, and she was sorta just alone.
Ellie made a decision right then, she’s not telling people anymore.
————
“El?” You question looking at her. Repeating yourself for the second time.
It looks like she just glitched in real life.
She doesn’t respond but by the fact her eyes didn’t seem so deep in thought you decided to assume she heard you.
“Are we going to talk about it?” You ask once more, silently begging for a response.
The car stops abruptly.
Your eyes are met with the quiet home which belongs to your father.
The lights are off so you know Joel and your dad are sure to be sleeping.
“I’ll see you later.” Ellie says coldly, she’s only looking forward, purposefully avoiding how your eyes won’t peel away from her side profile.
You were scared of how you felt for Ellie, but you were drunk. And right now she seems like she’s going to cry once again. So you pushed that down and talked.
“Ellie it’s late.” You sigh.
She doesn’t respond, she just clears her throat..
Once you shut the passenger door she assumes you’re leaving. But nope..
Ellie watched as you walked over to the driver seat opening the door.
“Come on” You hold out your hand.
Ellie looks at your hand and sighs. “No-“
“Come on…” You pause for a few seconds. “Please.”
Ellie steps out of her truck ignoring how your hand laid open for hers. Ellie decides to stuff both of hers inside her pockets. Creating an easy way of ignoring it.
“You’re the one who punched him Ellie. Don’t know why you’re being bitchy with me.” You say sheepishly.
Because frankly you’re annoyed, she’s acting like it’s your fault.
“Wouldn’t have to..you’re the one decide to practically stumble with him upstairs.” Ellie says harshly. She didn’t mean for it to come out that way. It just..did?
And for that reason you frowned.
You only opened the door for her.
“Go to the washroom.” You say looking at the body which trailed beside you.
“What?” Ellie questions face turning red.
“Your shirt” You confirm. “It’s covered in blood.” You say dryly. You’re clearly mad at her.
Ellie just nods, she’s embarrassed at her own actions, her choice of words also weren’t the brightest..?
Once she gets into your bathroom which is right beside your bedroom she just sits on the sink for a few seconds.
It doesn’t take long before she heard your light knock. A signal you’re outside waiting.
“Yeah come in.” Ellie sighs. Rubbing one hand down her face avoiding the throbbing nose.
You hand her a t-shirt and a pair of pyjama shorts.
Ellie looks down at them then back at you. “I’m sorry..” She says shortly continuing. “For the fight- ignoring you. Then what I said after.” She says.
“Thank you.” You say awkwardly.
It hasn’t been this awkward since the day the both of you first met each other.
This is because Ellie knows a certain questions on your mind.
You know it too. It’s looming. And even though you wanna ask it, you don’t.
Your voice comes out quiet. “I’ll wait in my bedroom.” You clear your throat. “For you” You nod.
Ellie nods too and smiles. “Okay” She mumbles out.
You laid flat on your bed until you heard the door opening. Ellie walked in your bedroom, throwing her previous clothes somewhere on the floor.
She didn’t say much. She just got beside you in bed, something which was overall normal when she’d stay the night.
Just this time it was quiet and cold, despite the hot weather.
You guys both tumbled during that night, you still felt tipsy, and your head felt like it was spinning. Something which wasn’t going away.
The fact Ellie was moving around meant she was definitely fading between consciousness and a deep sleep.
So since you both were in that tired state, it hardly registered when she turned sideways having her arm draped over you, falling right on your waist.
And that was the first issue.
Because did you pull back.
Nope!..
You fucking pushed yourself back into Ellie, finally feeling her lips shadow your neck.
Her breath was warm, extremely steady and she was fading into that deep sleep she lacked a few minutes ago.
Because now once she was holding onto you, it felt like she was on cloud nine.
And for her it didn’t even feel like it went to her brain, if you told Ellie that moment was all a dream she 100% would have believed it.
You moved your body around now so your faces where positioned in front of each other. You looped one arm around her waist and the other behind her neck, head positioned right on her chest.
Your lips hit her collar bone, and it wasn’t like you kissed that area or anything.
You just let them sit there.
“You okay..?” Ellie sleepily mumbles.
“Mhm..” You say.
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Waking up in the country was odd.
Because it wasn’t peaceful, nope. There was a rooster which worked as a free alarm clock. Always starting around 8am, so really extremely bright and early.
You woke up with the feeling of a hand on your back, and your head is sat on another body. The hand on you was poking between the sliver of skin between your shirt and shorts.
There was a thumb dragging back and forth and your hips.
Yet you soon realized that hand that belonged to Ellie.
Your whole face turned red.
And you’re now in auto pilot, because you’re jumping out of your bed like there was a million ants that laid there.
But no, only Ellie..
Her eyes opened slowly, the pain in her nose now becoming more prominent then ever..
But she didn’t care, not right now at least.
Because last night wasn’t a dream? Nope.
You guys slept in the same bed. Hugged, cuddled, and at one point your lips were on her skin..
And both of you are now dealing with the consequences the next morning.
Ellies eyes can’t scan your face, she doesn’t know what the fuck you’re trying to relay but it’s not processing for her. And maybe because you yourself don’t even know what to feel.
You were in a moment of shock. Not knowing what to say. Or even what to fucking do.
So you do the only think you can think of.
“Ellie you should leave!” You spit out. It was a panicked statement. Yet it just came out harsh and rude. Now leaving Ellie to feel like the idiot.
“What..?” Ellie questions, she’s fucking shell shocked herself.
She didn’t know what to except, just wasn’t this.
“You need to leave!” You spit again. “Now!”
Ellie stands up collecting her clothes off the floor. Even though the scene which is playing out almost seems like a hookup. It was so fucking far from that.
Because instead of it being a hookup you’re going insane over one stupid night, which on the contrary could mean absolutely nothing.
But you know that you felt something, that makes everything worse.
Ellie’s puts on her shoes before looking at you.
“You’re ridiculous you know?” She says looking straight at you before turning to leave your room.
You only follow her out though, convincing yourself it’s only because you need to make sure she’s really leaving. Which doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.
“What.?” You say following her down the stairs.
“Don’t fucking act all innocent.” She says looking at you.
“I asked you last night- I asked if you we’re okay!” She yells, she sorta wants it to come out as harsh. Yet it just comes out tired, weak like.
“I was drunk?! For fuck sake Ellie!” You yell back at her. It was a pity accuse for sure. It was just easier that way. You wanted to make her feel stupid.
Yet you felt stupid, because you we’re currently denying what you felt for Ellie, and you were doing that by hurting her.
“The people at the party were right. Jack- all of them.” You couldn’t even process what you were saying, it just came out. In another moment of panic? So your face frowns, really fucking fast.
You immediately remember thinking last night how you would ‘never repeat the shit they said to her.’
And you didn’t, but you almost said worse.
Causing you to switch up fast shaking your head.
You start fast. “Ellie I didn’t mea-“
Ellie shakes her head opening the front door. “Fuck you.”
You knew you fucked up.
Joel’s still here and you’d have to think of some lie as to why Ellie went home early.
And to be fair that’s the last thing you cared about, because you single handily said the worst possible thing in that moment.
And because of it.
You’ve lost Ellie.
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A/N -> new series 😋😋
I’m switching up my style a bit and going back to the past, I wasn’t fucking born in the 70s so don’t come for me if something is not historically accurate?
I genuinely remember searching up “skinny jeans 70s” tryna see if it was accurate, and spoiler alert (mfs where not wearing that! 🗣️) Like they sorta were but not rlly.
But idc!
As i’m writing this I haven’t even started fated hearts start with fire soo yeah! But maybe if ur lucky it’ll be posted by the time this comes out.
That’s all, hope you enjoyed reading and lmk if you wanna be on the taglist!
(Likes and reblogs are always appreciated)
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eddie-van-munson · 10 months ago
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The Princess Bride (Farmhand!Eddie Munson x Princess!Reader)
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Warnings: Mentions of Blood (Nothing Graphic), Kissing, One Subtle Allusion to Smut, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn...I think that's it?
Summary: You've been best friends with the stable boy since childhood, but when a suitor comes from across the sea to ask for your hand in marriage, you're forced to finally confront your feelings for him.
A/N: I hope y'all like this! I've had this in my drafts for literally over a year, but people seemed interested when I asked, so here it is! Please, Please, Please leave a comment! It will keep me writing!
Six Years Old
Your earliest memory of him was from the stream. 
His head was a mess of wild brown curls, so thick they nearly covered his eyes, and his pants had been rolled up past his knees. You'd been sitting in the gardens, ignoring your tutor's endless lesson on etiquette, when you spotted him through the clearing. He wobbled as he waded further, jumping forward suddenly as he tried to catch a fish with his hands. You had to hide your giggle with a polite cough, lest you be scolded.
The boy heard you, though. He stared at you as you obediently walked along the bank behind a man with a large nose. 
You made eye contact with him, and as soon as he noticed he'd won your attention, it became a game. Suddenly, he was pulling funny faces and splashing around the creek like a giant. He held your gaze all the while, flashing you a two-front-toothless grin when you finally fell into a fit of giggles. 
You'd had to recite forty lines that afternoon because of him, but it was well worth it to share a laugh as he mucked about in the water.
***********
Six Years Old
The next time you saw the boy, you'd fallen ill with fever. It'd been a few months since the stream, and you almost didn't recognize him as he plopped a bundle of healing herbs down on your bedside table. 
"You don't look like a Princess." He crossed his arms before him as he eyed you suspiciously. "You're awfully pale…And you're not even wearing a crown or a dress or anything." 
"I'm sick, you knob." You frowned, "No one wears a crown to bed." 
He hummed, sticking up his nose. "I thought Princesses had to be grown-ups." 
"I'll be queen when I'm a grown up." You announced, bossily. "And you'll have to do everything I say, or I'll send you to jail." 
He scoffed, "Not if I'm the King! The Queen has to do what the King says!" 
You rolled your eyes, "Well, you can't be King." 
"Yes, I can! Haven't you ever read King Arthur?" He pointed, brows raising. "I just have to find an enchanted sword and pull it out of a stone. Then I'll be the King, and I'll send you to jail." 
Your cheeks went pink as you argued, "King Arthur isn't even real!" 
"Yes, he is! And I'll be just like him! King Edward the First!" You giggled, and the boy flipped around from where he'd started strutting around the room, proudly. "What?"
"Edward is a funny name." 
As wildly offended as the boy was by this comment, he had to hide the smile that crept to his face at the sound of your hoarse laughter. "It is not!" 
"Yes, it is! Who's ever heard of a King called Ed? King Eddie!" You held your stomach, falling into another fit of giggles. 
He turned from you indignantly, "Fine! Stay here all alone with your smelly herbs, then! I don't need any silly ole' princess!" 
"No!" You croaked, sitting up in bed. "Don't go. It's so boring up here. I can hardly stand it." 
He sighed, putting a hand on his hip, and thought for a moment. "Only because you'll have me beheaded if I don't." 
***********
Ten Years Old 
"Oh goodness…You've gotten mud on your dress!" 
Your mother fussed over the little blue dress you were wearing, kneeling beside you to get a better look at the damage. Splotches of brown had been smeared over your front. Even your hair had a few streaks of dirt. 
"I got in a mud fight with Eddie." You informed her, as if the mess was perfectly justified by this. 
She chuckled, "I see. It looks like he may have won this time, hm?" She gave your cheek a gentle pinch, making your nose scrunch. 
"No, he didn't!" You turned, pointing at your friend. He dragged his feet behind you, looking defeated. 
Your mother burst into pretty laughter at the sight of him, resting a hand on her stomach. "Oh lamb…come here." 
The poor boy was absolutely caked in dirt. Not an inch of him was left unscathed. His wild curls were sopping with heavy mud, and you couldn't even see the embarrassed flush on his pouty face. He looked like he'd rolled around in the pig pen.  
The queen tutted affectionately, smirking. "Oh what am I going to do with you two?" 
***********
Thirteen Years Old
"Do you think he'll be alright?" Tears welled in your eyes as you sat in the windowsill in your room, watching Eddie as he walked quietly by himself in the distant fields, below. "I don't like seeing him cry." 
"He'll be alright, love." Your mother cooed, taking a seat beside you. "I know it's hard to see him in pain, but the poor dear's lost his mother. It might take some time for him to feel like himself again." 
You sniffled, holding your knees. The words trembled when you spoke again.  "He'll be sent away, won't he? He won't be allowed to stay at the palace anymore." 
The Queen frowned, stroking your hair. "Why do you say that?" 
"His mother worked in the laundry. That's why he's lived here so long. Without her, he-" You trailed off, voice cracking as you gave a soft sob. 
"Oh, silly girl." She chuckled softly as she dried your tears. "You think we'd throw Eddie out all on his own?" 
Your brow furrowed, confused. 
"Eddie's a strong boy, sweetheart. He works very hard in the stables and takes good care of the horses. He holds his own…and even if he didn't, he's family. We'd never send him away." 
Your whole demeanor relaxed, "You really mean it?" 
Your mother smiled, "Of course." 
Still, your eyes didn't leave him. You sighed, "He's so sad...He's sad and I don't know how to fix it. 
"I wish we could fix it for him, darling, but that's not how these things work. You can't take away that hurt. You just have to let him feel it." She straightened her dress as she stood, giving your hand a loving squeeze. "But that doesn't mean he couldn't use a friend." 
***********
Fourteen Years Old 
"I didn't know Princesses were allowed to climb trees." Eddie's grin was stained sweet and red, his legs crossed over a branch lazily as you plucked another strawberry from the bushel you'd collected that morning. 
Your etiquette teachers would be appalled if they could see you now, wearing little more than a chemise in the summer heat as you straddled a thick tree branch. Your feet were bare and dirty where they hung in the breeze. You smirked, "They are if nobody sees them." 
Eddie laughed, and it was such a clear sweet sound that you wished you could keep it tucked inside a locket. You sighed, longing to freeze time and keep things just the way they were forever.
You relaxed against a branch, "I've got my whole life to do what royalty is supposed to do. I've got to do fun things while I can still get away with it."
Eddie chuckled, "Maybe I'm a bad influence on you, after all.
You frowned, "Did someone say that to you?" 
He shrugged, unbothered. "The maids whisper it. They say a young lady shouldn't be left alone with a young man." He put on his best 'prim' voice, making you giggle. "I'm a threat to your innocence!" 
You held your stomach, laughing. "A threat to my innocence? That's horrible!" 
He grinned, "You're telling me!" 
The breeze rustled the leaves in the tree as you lounged, breathing in the sweet summer air. 
Eddie had strawberry juice on his lips. For the first time, the tiny, ant-sized thought of kissing it away crawled into your brain. You squished the ant. 
A bad influence, indeed. 
***********
Fifteen Years Old 
"Tag!" 
Eddie sprang up from the corner of the barn, sprinting after you as you ran off into the fields. 
You lost him quickly, cutting down and into the gardens. The morning dew was cool as the grass tickled your bare feet, and you nearly slipped as you ran over the stone path. A gloved hand grabbed your elbow to steady you. You turned to see a member of the palace guard; his brows furrowed. "There you are, Princess. Your Mother-" 
It all happened so quickly. Eddie ran through the bushes, a playful grin tugging his lips, and grabbed you from behind, "I've got you!" He yelled, drowning out your giggles. 
Before you realized what was happening, the guard ripped you from his hold, tossing you aside. Eddie was thrown onto the stone path, his temple hitting hard against the tile. Distantly, he heard you shriek. His vision was fuzzy and starry when he felt the weight of the guard pin him down, a drawn sword shoved against his throat. "You shall not touch her!”
"Stop! Stop it!' You grabbed the guard's arm, But he threw you back down. Eddie choked your name. 
"Stay back!" The guard barked at you, pressing harder against the blade. Eddie could feel blood trickling from his head. He was trembling, eyes closed tight. Still, the guard yelled in his face, “Who are you? Hands by your side!” 
"He's my friend!" You screamed hoarsely.
"Get off of him this instant!"
You'd never been so happy to hear your mother's voice in your life. The guard dropped his sword at the sight of her rushing towards him. Immediately, his face drained pale as a ghost. "Y-Your majesty!" 
"Get off of the boy, for god sakes, he's a child! Get off!" The man clambered off of Eddie as your mother knelt beside him, fussing over him dotingly, "Oh sweetheart, your head…You're shaking like a leaf…" 
He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision. The queen turned to the guard as you pitifully crawled over to your friend, pushing his curls back off of his forehead. "I'm sorry I'm sorry-" 
The guard searched for an explanation, "Your majesty, I thought the boy was-" 
"I know what you thought!" She snapped, sternly. She was well aware of the whispers surrounding yours and Eddie's friendship. Your mother's lips were pursed, cheeks red. You'd never seen her like that before in your life. "It gave you no right to hold a weapon to that child's throat!" 
"Your highness, I-" 
Your mother ignored the guard, turning back to you. "Help me get him inside." You nodded obediently as she squeezed Eddie's shaking hand, "I'll send for a doctor to check your head, darling."  
Eddie nodded, dizzily. 
You sat with him later that night when the doctor had gone and his head had cleared. The mark on his forehead would scar, no doubt, but it had been well tended, and any concussion he suffered was minor. This knowledge, of course, did nothing to soothe his nasty headache. 
"You're not a very good sport, you know." He groaned as you took his hand, smirking. "Siccing the palace guards on me just because I tagged you?" He tutted, "What a sore loser." 
***********
Sixteen Years Old 
"You have to tell!" You ran after Eddie as he hauled a sack of oats through the gardens to the stable. 
He ignored you, holding his nose high. "No, I don't. I don't have to tell you everything just because you're a princess."
You crossed your arms, "You have to tell me because I'm your best friend, you knob. Best friends don't keep secrets!" 
"Sure, they do. You mean to tell me you've never kept a secret from me?" 
You groaned, "That's different! You have to tell me if you fancy someone!" 
Eddie sighed, turning to face you, and dropped the sack of oats. "Why do you want to know so bad?" 
You blushed, stammering. "I…I want to help you confess your love!" 
Eddie laughed, "What a lie! You just want to tease me!" 
"Oh, Come on!" You pouted, putting your hands on his shoulders. If you tell me who it is, I'll tell you a secret, too."
"Tempting." He sighed, picking up the sack again and throwing it over his shoulder. "But no." 
***********
Eighteen Years Old
"You've got to keep it down…"
You scoffed, rolling your eyes as he guided you towards the stables. "Why?" 
He laughed, "If I told you why, then it wouldn't be a surprise." 
He smirked when you groaned, reaching for the latch on the barn door. “You know I don't like surpris-..." 
 You went silent as he led you inside slowly, revealing a soft colored mare, and below her, her newborn foal.
"Oh!" You gasped, a smile creeping to your face. You stepped forward, wanting to approach the baby, but Eddie took your arm, gently pulling you back.
"You've got to be careful...the mare's protective of her. I nearly got kicked in the teeth this morning." He chuckled, enjoying the amazement in your eyes as you watched the mother and baby interact. 
"She's beautiful." You mumbled, grinning. 
Eddie couldn't help but smile, "She's strong too..." He paused, breath fanning your neck as he spoke just loud enough for you to hear. "She'll make a good riding horse, one day." 
You met his brown eyed gaze, biting your lip shyly as he nudged your arm with his elbow. 
You could feel him admiring you. 
You liked it.
***********
Nineteen Years Old
"Oh, Eddie. He was horrible…You wouldn't have been able to stop laughing!" 
Eddie clutched his stomach, laying back against the grass as he toyed with a wildflower. "That's because it's funny!" 
Your fingers fumbled with the ends of your hair, untangling the intricate hairstyle it's been tied up in. "It's not so funny when it's you!" 
Eddie grinned, looking starry eyed, "It really just fell off of his head?" 
"During dinner!" You exclaimed. Eddie fell into another fit of laughter. "Right onto his plate in front of everyone!" 
Your friend sighed, wiping his happy tears as he sat up to gather a handful of clovers. "I can't believe he wore an honest to God wig. The poor lamb." 
You laughed at his faux sympathy, watching his hands as he wove together stems. 
He looked so different from the little boy you'd befriended as a child. His wild curls had grown just past his shoulders now, his bangs often covering the scar on his temple. His arms and back were beautiful, muscles sloping gently beneath his skin, and while he was a hint more bronze than he had been as a boy, his freckles remained. His nose and his dimples had never changed in the slightest, and those big brown eyes reassured you that no matter how much Eddie had grown up, he'd always be that silly little boy, deep down. He'd always be your Eddie. 
"But what's the verdict?" He chuckled, "You never said. Is he the one?" 
You groaned, "You're mocking my pain." 
"I am not!" He fought a smirk. "I didn't want to assume. Maybe he was a wonderful conversationalist." 
You giggled, yawning. "I wouldn't know. I didn't catch a word he said after his hair went into his soup. 
Eddie gave you a fond smile, laying on his elbow beside you, "Here you are, princess. A crown." 
Your heart felt oddly achey as he draped a handmade crown of wildflowers over your head. You smiled, affection in your eyes. 
Your throat was tight when you spoke, "You're better than any prince, Eddie Munson." 
His cheeks flushed faintly. "Well, I don't know about that…" He tapped your nose playfully. "Most princes don't smell like a barn." 
***********
Twenty Years Old 
"Eddie, darling!" Your mother had called to him as he cut through the gardens back to the stable. His brows raised when he turned to find the Queen accompanied by you and the King. A man Eddie had never seen before held your arm, an unreadable expression on your face. Eddie bristled. 
"Your Majesties." Eddie nodded his head politely as the group approached, his muscles stiff with wariness. 
Your father gave a proud smile, gesturing to the stranger on your arm. "Son, let us Introduce you to Prince Carver the Fourth: Heir to the Throne of Hawkins."  
"An honor to meet you, Your Highness." Again, Eddie bowed his head. He'd never seen someone that looked so stiff. The two of you would have fun joking about it, later. 
Prince Carver was older than you, and by the looks of him, he'd never been outside a day in his life. Every last one of his blonde hairs had been tediously placed, as if he'd been sculpted out of clay, and his boots were perfectly polished black leather. The blonde eyed Eddie with disdain, crinkling his nose at the sight of his work clothes. "Yes, I'm sure." 
Eddie fought an eye roll. Another suitor, he assumed. The Royals were only being polite by offering him a tour, seeing as he'd travelled so far only to be rejected.
The Queen stepped towards him, glancing at the prince. "Eddie has become a very dear friend to our daughter, Prince Carver. Perhaps he would make a nice addition to your staff. He's served us so well in our stables." 
Confusion was visible in Eddie's face. An addition to his staff? What was going on? He looked to you for help, but your eyes were cast down into the grass. 
Prince Carver cleared his throat, "Unfortunately, we aren't lacking any farmhands at the moment, but you need not worry about the princess, your highness. She'll find much companionship in Hawkins, once we are wed."
Eddie felt his blood go cold. Absolutely frigid. 
Once we are wed. Once we are wed. Once we are wed.
His mouth opened to say something, but he couldn't find a single word. He was desperate to look you in the eyes, but his gaze was only met by a small shimmer on your left hand. An engagement ring. 
"Please excuse me, Your Majesties." 
****
Eddie hadn't cried like this since his mother died. 
He hadn't felt the blow of such terrible loss since he'd been orphaned. 
He sat alone in the barn on a stool, tears rolling down his cheeks as he gently stroked his fingers through the mane of the foal he'd surprised you with two years ago.
It was a pretty horse…full grown now and patterned with soft brown spots across her back. You'd named her "Sweetheart" after hearing Eddie call her that. 
Come're, Sweetheart. 
Here you go, Sweetheart. 
Good job, Sweetheart…That's it. 
Pain shot through his chest at the realization that the horse would probably get to go with you to your new home. 
But not Eddie. Eddie would be left behind. 
He clenched his jaw, eyes burning as he buried his fists in his curls and tugged. He was angry. He couldn't help but feel angry. It wasn't fair. His whole heart was being shipped off to God knows where, and there wasn't a word he could say about it. 
It wasn't your fault. You were a princess. Your hand in marriage was a pawn in a game of political chess. It had been since the beginning. Both of you knew this. You always had. So why weren't the two of you happy that this inevitable union was one that would lead the country to thrive? 
Eddie took a deep breath, relaxing his hands from his hair and rubbing tears from his face. 
You'd daydreamed with Eddie before. Lots of times. It was always the same thing.
I wish we could just run off and live in the woods, Eds. Just you and me. We could build a little cottage beside a stream. That way, we could swim in the summertime. You could finally teach me to fish, too. 
Is that what he'd been expecting? Had he hoped, deep down, that he'd somehow end up in that cottage after all, spending summer days with you by a stream? 
Maybe. Or maybe he'd just wanted you. 
He'd dreamt up hundreds of different futures for himself. There were countless paths he'd wandered down curiously in his head, over the years. Some were outlandish and fantastic…some were more modest. As much as they varied from day to day, he was realizing now that his hopes for the future had always held something in common. 
He'd always had you. 
****
The next week seemed never ending. 
Eddie didn't see you once. You were avoiding him. That much was obvious. 
Before the proposal, you made a habit of visiting Sweetheart at least once every day. You liked to brush her as you talked with Eddie, twisting braids into her coarse hair. She was spoiled rotten, no doubt, but that didn't leave the horse feeling any less deprived of attention with the sudden loss of your quality time. She'd gotten fussy over the week, whinnying and pacing in her stall. She'd even started kicking again, when she was feeling particularly agitated. 
Still, you made no appearance at the stable. Eddie was surprised, however, to look over the gate one evening to find Prince Carver walking swiftly through the grass. 
"Your highness." Eddie nodded, spotting the green apple in the man's hand. "Have you come to feed the horses?" 
"Certainly not." Carver scoffed, "I've come on behalf of the Princess. I find it inappropriate for her, as a lady, to be spending time in the stables. 
 I've reassured her that I'll take it upon myself to fulfill any required visits with Sugarplum." 
Eddie frowned, " Forgive me Your Highness, but I think you might be thinking of Sweetheart." 
The man scoffed, slapping the apple down in Eddie's hand before storming off.
 "Whatever the damned thing's name is." 
Eddie swallowed hard, calling after him. "Would you like me to show you how to feed her, Prince Carver?" 
The man laughed cruelly, "Heavens no. That's your job, is it not?" 
**********
"What on earth are you-! Edward Munson!" You gasped, immediately dipping over the stone ledge of your window to reach for him. He laughed, flashing you a boyish grin as he took your hand, pulling himself up and over the sill. 
Christ, you'll crack your skull one day!" You muttered, the both of you giving way to the effort and falling to the floor with a thump. 
"For the present my skull remains intact." He reassured, giving a faux bow of his head. 
You snorted, plucking dead leaves and briars from his thick dark curls. "What on earth put it in your head to climb all the way-" 
Eddie caught your hand, his eyes landing on your engagement ring. His thumb brushed over its stone as your heart sank into your belly. 
"Oh." 
Eddie studied the ring for a moment, taking in its details. There was a long silence. Finally, you spoke. 
"It's a dreadfully heavy thing." You pulled it off, placing it on your bedside table. "It catches on my gown, anyways."
A knowing smile crept to Eddie's lips. He sat in the silence for a moment before reaching into his pocket. 
A small wooden ring was produced, painted delicately along the band with tiny white flowers. He slipped it onto your marriage finger. "How's that one?"
You were breathless. "It..it's..." 
It was perfect. It was the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen, though you couldn't find the words to say so. 
Eddie's thumb brushes over the flowers, "I carved that for you when we were sixteen."
Tears welled in your eyes.
"I had it in my mind to propose to you then. The gardener stopped me when he discovered my plan." He gave a sad chuckle. A comfortable silence hung between you. Eddie took your hand, humming. "Would you have said yes?" 
"Eddie..." A tear rolled down your cheek, only to be brushed away carefully by his ever-gentle hand. You gave a sad laugh, your thumb stroking over his wrist. "You're not being fair." 
"Maybe not." He whispered, "But any man should be damned if he saw you and didn't want to keep you."
"It's cruel." Your voice wavered with emotion. "You know I've loved you since we were children...nothing can be done about it, Eddie."
"Nothing can be done about it?" Eddie gave a humorless laugh, "You're going to be Queen. Everything can be done about it." 
"What would you have me do?" Your brow furrowed. "Tell my father to end our alliance with Hawkins?"
"Yes! Hawkins only seeks to use us for our resources. Forest Hills is better off without their partnership." 
You swallowed thickly. The cicadas sang their response from the Glenside below. Again, Eddie wiped your tears. 
"Love is not something to be kept only for common folk. Your father will understand that. So will your kingdom." 
Something in you crumbled under his gaze. You drew closer, letting him envelope you in his arms. He held you for a long time, stroking your back, sweetly. 
"I spoke to your mother." He cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Your head tilted back; eyes wide as you stared up at him. 
"Did you?" 
"Yes." His eyes were so warm and brown. You had admired them many times before this, but never quite so closely before. "I knew I was to ask for your hand...I couldn’t very well ask for your father's blessing, so I felt your mother's would be just as valuable. To us, at least."
You smiled, your forehead resting against his. "What did she say?" 
Eddie chuckled at the memory, "She pinched my cheek red. I wish you could've seen it. She cried and held my hand...told me she'd always known I would ask her one day." 
You gave a watery laugh, your fingers lacing tightly with his.
"She said she didn’t know if it was possible for me to make you mine, but that nothing would make her happier." 
There was a long silence. Eddie cradled your face, "Do you feel the same, little Princess?" Your pretty eyes fluttered at his whisper. "Do you love me the way I love you?" 
"How could you even ask?" 
Eddie chuckled, "Because I've done nothing but profess my feelings for you tonight, and now I'd like to hear you do the same." 
You chuckled, your smile fading with thought. 
"I knew...I knew I loved you about five summers ago." Eddie smiled fondly, his cheeks going pink. "We practically lived outside then...the world seemed so bright and warm and I didn't realize then that it was all because of you." You reached up, carding her fingers through his messy hair.  "The sun turned your curls golden on the edges-" 
Before you could finish your sentence, he was kissing you. He was soft and warm and strong, holding you close as you melted for one another. Eddie laughed, breathless, when you parted. "I'm afraid I win, then. I've loved you far longer than that." 
You laughed brightly as he kissed you again, working his way down your jaw to the column of your throat. "When?" You breathed, whimpering as he nipped at the crook of your neck. 
"It's hard to say." He moaned softly as you coaxed him back up to your lips, your hands lacing in his hair. "All I know is that I've never loved you more than I do right now." 
Another tear rolled down his love's cheek. He kissed it away. 
"But why these tears, now? Am I really that terrible?" 
You gave a watery laugh. "No. Not at all I...I just..." You gave a little sob. "I want to marry you. I want to be your bride and keep you always, but I can't-" 
"Marry me, then. Right now." 
You frowned, tucking a strand of his curls behind his ear. "What?" 
Eddie thumbed your ring as he caught your hand. "Do we not have a ring? A gown?" He swallows thickly, eyes darting between your night clothes and the mattress beside you.  "A marriage bed?" 
Slowly, You stood, guiding Eddie to stand before you. "We...we have to make a vow" 
"What kind of vow? I've never been to a wedding." 
You stared up at him, eyes brimming with love. "S-Something about.... For richer and for poorer. Through sickness and in health. From each sun to each moon." 
"May I write my own?" 
A tear rolled down your cheek as you nodded. 
He looked down at your hands, so soft and perfect in his rough ones. "I wish I could tell you that as my wife, you will want for nothing. I wish I could make you flowery promises about how you won't have a care in the world...but since I can't make you those promises, I'll make you the ones I can." 
He knelt before you, gazing up into your eyes. 
"I promise to you that no matter how hot the summer's day, I'll always climb to the highest branches to find you perfect, sun-spotted apples."
You giggled, a grin splitting your cheeks.
"I promise to let you spoil your horse as badly as you wish. Never again will I deprive her of a single sugar cube." 
Another giggle. Eddie kissed your knuckles.
"I promise to kiss you...often and abundantly...until you can't bear to kiss me even once more."
Eddie grinned at your blush. 
"I can't build you castles, but I promise you a home. I promise you food to eat and sturdy walls to keep you warm. I promise you children to nurse and adore." 
Eddie paused, heart fluttering.
"And I promise you love. The same love for you that I've held long since before I even knew what I was feeling." 
His voice wavers. 
"I promise that at the end of our lives, I will still feel it." 
Eddie clasped your hand with his, "So, Princess. If you'll have me...then with this ring, I thee wed." 
You repeated his words, falling to your knees to embrace him. Eddie caught you in his arms as he stood, peppering kisses to your nose, then your cheeks, and finally, your lips. 
His thumb brushed your new ring, gently. "I can't tell you how it feels to see you wearing it." He gave a watery laugh. "It's been sitting on my nightstand for four years now." 
"I wish I could wear it always..." 
"Why can't you?" He pulled back to meet your eyes.
Your expression sunk, "I'm afraid I'm still scheduled to be wed tomorrow morning." 
"Oh, don't be ridiculous." He hummed. "You think I'd allow another man to marry my wife?"
"Eddie..." He scooped you up, laying you gently upon your mattress before sitting beside you. "Promise me you won't do anything stupid tomorrow." 
He chuckled as you combed through his curls with your fingers. "When have I ever been known to do stupid things?" 
"I mean it. You remember what happened the last time someone thought you were a threat to my innocence. It would kill me to see you hurt." Your fingertips grazed the scar on his temple, stiffening at the memory of his head hitting stone. 
There was a long silence as Eddie gazed at the ring. He kissed each of your fingertips slowly. "Do you trust me?" 
"More than anything." 
Eddie smiled at this, holding your hand to his heart, "Then don't worry." 
You gave a hesitant smile. Eddie cradled your body against his, gently combing through your hair. 
"We must leave tonight." He whispered. "Disappear into the woods. If we rode as far as we could on Sweetheart, it would be nearly impossible for them to find us by the time morning came. It would be difficult, but we'd be free." 
Immediately, you tensed. "Eddie, no. He could have you killed if they found us." 
"Then you'd better hold me awfully tight for as long as you can, my love." 
**********
You woke to the sound of water rushing beside you. You laid upon a bed of moss; a thick blanket tucked around you. You felt shade cover you as a figure knelt as your side. A hand on your head, pushing your bangs back lovingly. You stretched and groaned in response, not wishing to leave behind the warmth of your blanket, and kept your eyes closed.
"What a shame." Eddie cooed with a smirk, seeing right through your fib. "My little wife is simply too weak and exhausted to carry on. I suppose I must leave her behind..."
Your eyes flew open, taking his bait. "Leave her behind!?"
Eddie laughed brightly, pulling you into a smiley kiss. You were beginning to think nothing in the world felt better than kissing him.
Eddie's nose nudged against yours as he hummed passively. "Did you know you talk in your sleep?"
Your jaw dropped, "I do not, Eddie Munson."
He giggled, "You most certainly do, Mrs. Munson. We had a whole conversation whilst you slept."
"What about, pray tell?"
Eddie laid on his back beside her, letting her rest against his chest as he tucked his arms behind his head. "How handsome I am."
You smirked, rolling your eyes as you kissed him. The sun was warm and the cool earth beneath you felt like silk beneath your skin.
"I feel like I could do anything I wanted out here. No one could stop me."
"You could." Eddie smirked with another peck. "But I'm afraid we must keep traveling, my love. We still have a long way to go."
"How far are we going?
He tucked hair behind your ear, "So far they'll never find you. So far that it will be impossible for them to take you from me."
You nodded, curling in against him.
"And once we have finally traveled far enough..." Eddie grinned down at you. "I shall build you our cottage by the stream." 
***********
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cevansbrat0007 · 11 months ago
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Sweet Tooth
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Summary: Ari gets inventive when he finds himself in the doghouse with you. Be sure to check out the follow-up drabble, Sweet Tooth Deluxe!
Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Arch Nemesis', Dominant Ari, Aprons, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec mentioned), Spanking (mentioned), Pussy spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI
A/N: Written for @honeygngergemini. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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Ari leans back in his chair, one long leg coming to rest atop his knee as he levels a hard look at Officer Milton Foster. He scrubs a tired hand over his face, his mind working overtime to process what the young man had just said.
“But that makes zero fucking sense.” He grumbles, groaning when he sees Milton just shake his head.
“Aye, man.” The dark-haired deputy  throws up his hands. “You asked me where I thought you went wrong and I told you.” He turns in his office chair to spare a quick glance at his computer. “Do not shoot the messenger.”
“No one’s being shot, alright? I just don’t get the logic behind any of the shit you just said.”
Couple that with the fact that you’d been icing him out for the past several days for reasons unbeknownst to him – which had left him in a god awful mood. He missed you. Your laugh, your warmth, your smile. 
All of it.
Not to mention that deliciously curvy body that had been keeping him warm at night. He really missed that. More than than anything he needed a fucking kiss.
But you were ignoring him. And Ari had discovered pretty quickly that he didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.
So, he’d turned to what he felt like was his only ally in this god-forsaken town: the newly minted sheriff’s deputy, Milton Foster.
“So you’re really trying to tell me that the reason my woman is pissed at me is because I ate Charline Marshall’s pecan pie at the town potluck, liked it, and asked for seconds.” Ari smooths an annoyed hand over his bearded face. Trying to understand Bell’s Creek’s local politics could really do a number on a person. 
“And don’t forget that she purposely dropped your lady’s bramble berry pie on the ground.” Milton does a quick spin in his chair. “She tried to pretend it was an accident, but most of us know better. Charline Marshall has eyes for you and I think she might be ready to make it known.”
“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t even pick that woman out of a lineup.”  
Milton simply shrugs before taking another spin in his desk chair. “You’ve got a lot of admirers, Mr. Bounty Hunter. A man like you blows into town…well, you’re downright exotic. Every single red-blooded woman under 75 wants a taste.”
Ari visibly shudders before crossing his legs at the ankle. He didn’t want anyone else. This particularly surly Bounty Hunter wanted you. He only wanted to eat your food. Enjoy your sweets. Fall to his knees and devour the fuck out of your pretty little pussy.
“Hard pass, buddy.” Your lawman sighs. “I didn’t know shit about the pie incident. I mean, how could I when she was barely talking to me or anyone at that party?”
“Not saying it’s your fault, big guy. Logically, what would you have been able to do if she had told you?”
Ari looks up at him, his piercing blue gaze never once leaving the young deputy’s. “I would’ve taken her back to my place and spent the rest of the night making her feel better. I would’ve done everything in my power to take my girl’s mind off that petty shit.”
“Mmm.” Milton murmurs as understanding suddenly dawns. “I really don’t wanna get too deep in your business, but your lady is like a sister to me.” He leans back in his chair so that he can kick his feet up on his desk. “We used to play on the playground together as kids. And full disclosure, she used to beat my ass.” The deputy chuckles as he begins to recount all the way you used to be a tiny force of nature. 
“I…can see that.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I think your original plan was a good one.” 
“Meaning?” Ari leans over to take a sip of his now cold coffee. It tasted like shit anyway, even when it was hot. In fact he longed for you, his BIrd, to make him one of your little caffeine-infused concoctions – preferably while wearing nothing but his shirt. 
So he could also take a bite out of that luscious ass while you refreshed his mug. After all, he was a man who prided himself on his ability to multitask. 
“Meaning, you need to find a way to distract her while making your point.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, you’re a smart fuckin’ guy who set his sights on someone who could easily be the most stubborn woman in the whole damned state.” A smirking Milton offers up a salute with his can of Dr. Pepper. “That’s for you to figure out. All I can do at this point is wish you luck.” 
“Thanks.” Ari grunts, wishing that he had a better idea of what to do with you.
Oh, rest assured that he’d figure it out. You were too important to him not to. He just hoped you’d find it in your heart to take it easy on him for his mistake. 
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The Next Day
You wake up to the smell of cooking sausage wafting into your room. It makes you smile as you stretch your arms over your head. Your stomach growls in agreement, subtly reminding you that you’d neglected to make dinner last night. 
Oops. You hadn’t meant to forget, it had just happened. Normally you would end your night with speaking to your Beast of a Bounty Hunter, who always made sure you ate. But lately, you have been both mad at him and embarrassed.   
Because at a recent town potluck, Ari had eaten your rival’s pecan pie. Now, you weren’t children, but this had also been after she’d purposely sabotaged your own dessert by accidentally dropping it on the ground. 
Charline pretended that it had been a mistake. But the way you’d witnessed her laugh after the fact. And then she’d fed your man, reveling in every minute. You’d known her pecan pie was dry, but Ari had seemed to enjoy it. So much so that he’d asked for a second piece. 
Which was fine, except it had hurt your feelings. And you hadn’t been sure how to relay exactly relay that fact either. So you’d clamped down. You’d bottled up. 
And as a result, your poor, sweet man was suffering. Which meant you needed to apologize. But you weren’t quite sure how to go about it. As you sit up, you vow to yourself to give him a call today. As soon as you sat down and enjoyed your breakfast.
And then it occurs to you. You weren’t the one cooking. Which meant someone was in your house. 
You spring out of bed and grab your Louisville Slugger that you always kept nearby. Taking a deep breath, you quietly make your way down the stairs, your trusty bat poised to take a swing at whatever moron who’d chosen to take up residence in your kitchen.
Baring your teeth, you crest around the corner on bare feet, ready to make your presence known. 
“You gonna hit me, Bird?” Ari muses as he adds a dash of salt, followed by pepper to whatever it is he’s got cooking in the skillet. Your flippin' skillet. “Is that really how this ends? You take me out while I’m being kind enough to whip us up some breakfast?”
Momentarily flummoxed you find yourself lowering your weapon in favor of taking in the scene before you. This man – your Bounty Hunter – was currently standing in your kitchen clad in nothing but an apron. 
Your apron. And yet somehow it fit him better
“Wh–what are you doing?” You ask him, letting your baseball bat clatter to the floor at your feet. You wouldn’t need it. You were safe with this man, but only to a point. “And how’d you get in?” You hadn’t given him a key yet. 
That was supposed to be a present for later. 
“Eh.” Ari shrugs, flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “Maybe I saw my gift and swiped it after the potluck. Maybe you weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t get a read on you, so I had to be an asshole and make an executive decision.” He turns away from you to drop a finished pancake on a plate, giving you a fantastic view of his perfectly muscled ass.
“You mad?” 
“N-no.” You respond as you feel your thighs clench. God, how you wished that you’d come down here wearing pants. “I was actually planning to reach out to you today. Can I ask what you’re doing?” You shiver as you feel your thighs grow damp, your traitorous pussy working against you. 
You should be mad that your Beast had broken into your house. Instead you were happy to see him with a much deserved apology ready to fall from your lips. 
“Making you breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and sausage.” He adds another delicious pancake to the stack. “I’m gonna feed you, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and make you rethink ever ignoring me again.” He purrs, the intoxicating rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest. 
Fuck you were so wet it was almost embarrasing. 
“I’ve earned the rights to that tight little pussy, baby. And when I make a mistake like I did with that goddamned Charline, I want you to tell me.” Ari turns off the range, pulling the food off the heat and onto a plate.
“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both hating and loving the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirts. Actually, it was one of his. A detail he also seemed to notice. “How can I make it up to you?”
Ari studies you for a moment, his handsome face tilting to the side. And then your eyes stray to the sight of his impressive erection. You watch as one of his big hands reaches down to fist his hard cock, pumping it once. Twice. 
“You can start by going back upstairs. I want you naked, on all fours. I want to come up there and feast my eyes on your soaking wet cunt.” His heated gaze bores into your own, making your already drenched core spasm one more. “And you’d better be wet for me, otherwise I’m gonna spank it. And you.” 
“O-okay.” You find yourself taking a step back, your hand clutching at the wall. 
“I’m gonna eat it baby.” Ari growls, his voice filled with a mix of unbridled lust and determination. “I’m gonna make that pussy fucking cry. And you’re gonna fucking take it. You hear me?”
“Yes.” You whisper, resisting the urge to reach down as you stroke your eager fingers over your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sir.”
He takes a menacing step towards you, his body delighting in the way that you shiver. You’d been bad. Which means it was time to pay the price. And what better man to exact that payment than your own handsome, 6”4 Beast? 
“And then I’m gonna fuck you in front of that brand new mirror I bought you. I’m gonna show you who owns that beautiful body and remind you why it’s important to talk to me when you need me.” Another menacing step. “And then I’m gonna feed those delectable curves after I’ve had my fill.”
“And then…” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna let me kiss it all better while I make love to you.”
“Y-yes, please.” Right now you were willing to give this man whatever he wanted. Whatever helped you atone for your supposed sins.
“There’s a good girl.” He intones as he unties the apron, leaving him naked and aroused in your simple kitchen. “Now run.”
END
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lucid-loves · 11 months ago
Text
Taste Like Venom ~ Simon "Ghost" Riley Part 1
Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x assassin!reader (fem!reader, no use of y/n, callsign “Hex”)
Word Count: 3.4k
CW: angst, violence, blood, strong language, scars, enemies to friends to lovers trope, slow burn, plot, clear attraction and sexual tension, smut later on, reader POV and ghost POV, minors dni, Soap lives in this AU
Let me know if I missed any CWs.
Synopsis: After Makarov gets away again, Laswell decides to force a favor from you, the world’s greatest assassin and best-kept secret. You are now expected to help the 141 with taking down Makarov in addition to playing nice with them. It’s hard to play nice when you have always worked alone. It doesn’t help that one of the team members, Ghost, gets curious about you with each interaction. 
Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Part 7 ~ Part 8 ~ Part 9 ~ Part 10
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You’ve always been a light sleeper, if you could even be called that. The truth was that you hardly slept at all. Bedtime was always more like cat-nap time. Light, soundless, ready to pounce at the sound of dust falling to the floor. That’s how you trained yourself and the habit stuck, even if you don’t take missions anymore. It was hard to deprogram a killing machine. 
The two years have been peaceful even if you were always on edge. Semi-retirement has been kind in only giving you the sounds of the forest trees in the wind, the gentle rush of the creek, birds singing every morning, and most importantly, no visitors. The world didn’t know that you existed and you preferred to keep it that way for as long as you could. While you did feel the phantom blood dripping down your hands every now and then to an unsettling reminiscent degree, you did like this little slice of heaven that was your off-grid cabin. It was a good place to be before you undoubtedly go to hell in the end.
You were in your bed when you heard the rustling of the forest floor just outside your window. Steps. But not the steps belonging to a fox or bear you have learned to recognize over time. These were the steps of a man. No, multiple men. The way the foot falls of a man walking is an undeniable melody you have heard thousands of times. In the dead of night, you bolted up out of bed and reached for your throwing knife and a pistol, always kept at your bedside. Like a thief in your own home, you silently followed the sounds outside along the walls until you reached the living room. They were going to come in through the front door. 
Under the cover of darkness, you readied your aim at the door. To your surprise, they were messing with the keypad that locked your house down, inputting codes with a subtle click and then beep of a correct code. No one should know the code except for two people. Laswell and yourself. 
As soon as the door revealed moonlight and a silhouette, you fired your gun. A warning shot. Grazing right past neck. The men stopped and immediately aimed their own rifles, but the one in front held his hand up in surrender. Following orders, the rifles were lowered. You were the first to speak, your voice dripping with venom. “State your purpose and maybe I won’t kill you all where you stand.”
A gentle yet deep Liverpudlian accent voiced back. “Easy now. We don’t mean harm. Laswell sent us here. Code Swan.”
“Song?” You replied, your muscles still tense, unwilling to lower your defenses until the full code was complete. It is what ensured both yours and Laswell’s safety.
“Black Death.” He replied back. You stayed in position for a few moments before finally sighing and lowering your weapon. You turned on a table lamp next to you to get a better look at the intruders. Four men stood in your doorway. One with a fishing hat, one with a mohawk, one with a baseball cap, and one with a skull mask. They were all tall, big with muscle, and seemingly not American from their patches. An interesting bunch to say the least. 
“Fucking Laswell.” You cursed Kate’s name. She should have contacted you about this. You were just about to paint the porch with her mens’ brains. You hated surprises. You often killed them before finding out the intentions. 
With a wave of your hand, you invited the men to come into your cabin. They cautiously came in, surveying the layout and now understanding what Kate meant when she said that you were “belligerent.”
You turned on the main lights and tried to get a fire going to relieve some of the autumn chill that had crept through the house. Their leader began to unload his things on the kitchen table, sighing from the weight relief. His men joined in, save for one. You could feel his eyes on you as you encouraged the fire. You didn’t even have to look back to know that he was watching your every move. 
“It’s rude to stare.” You warned curtly as you stood and turned. The man in the skull mask and balaclava didn’t avert his gaze.
His voice was rich and gruff like gaboon ebony. His Manchester accent came clear as day. “You’re half naked.”
He was referring to the large band shirt and boyshort panties that you were wearing. What did he expect from someone that thought that enemies were breaking in? You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “I’m in my pajamas. Besides, a good soldier shouldn’t get distracted by any amount of nudity.”
His blue eyes narrowed at your dig. He was a good soldier. An excellent soldier actually. One of the best. But excellent, good, or bad, no one would be able to resist staring at your figure. The exposed thighs, the large neckline of the shirt hanging off your shoulder, various scars scattered across skin like an abstract painting. He’s never seen anyone like you before. 
Too bad you had a combative mouth. 
Before he could get a word in, you had walked off into the kitchen, not bothering to go get pants on. It was your home for fuck’s sake. Besides, there were more pressing matters than your clothes or lack thereof. 
You began to pull out all the food you had out of your fridge. Everything from deli meat to leftover lasagna was being laid out on the large quartz island. You weren’t going to heat anything up or make something new, but the laid out spread would be enough. You weren’t a completely heartless host. Just a bare minimum one.
Once the food was out for pickings, you headed back near the dining room, leaning against the doorframe. The boys had maps, blueprints, and laptops covering every surface of your table. Your beautiful, hand-made pine table. This was to be their new safehouse for now. Hopefully not for too long.
“Captain, it’s connecting now.” The one with the mohawk called out. The captain came right over to greet the screen.
“Laswell, can you hear us?”
“Loud and clear, John. Did everything go well?” Kate chipperly asked. You haven’t heard her voice in a long while. You almost forgot how nice her voice actually was.
“She nearly shot my fuckin’ neck off.” Mohawk-guy grumbled. 
Kate gave a light, short laugh. “Sounds like it went smoothly then. The best that it could be. She there?”
All four men looked up to you, expecting you to come over and face Laswell through the screen. However, you stayed where you were. Instead, you spoke loud enough for your friend to hear. “Kate Laswell.”
“Hex, I’m sorry that I couldn’t warn you about this beforehand. You know I wouldn’t have done this if it wasn’t an emergency situation.” She began to apologize and justify. It was always an apology followed by a justification. You wondered if she even ever means her apologies, but in the end, you never really cared enough. However, now it is different.
“I don’t exist, Kate. And now four new people know that I do. . .” You retorted back.
It was silent for a moment, the tension in the air thick. She was on the other side of the screen, but it felt like you were going to get into a physical fight with her anyways. “They’re trustworthy. I trust them with my life and the lives of millions upon millions. Just like I trust you. And as the only people that I trust, I need you to help them.”
“They have already taken over my home. What more do you want from me?” You clenched your jaw, trying to prepare yourself for an answer you probably wouldn’t like. Like hell were you going to play dorm mother to them and like hell you were going to just move out. The last thing you wanted was to take care of these men longer than necessary. This was already pushing that line for you.
“Athame.” She bluntly said. That was the worst answer she could have said. The confused looks the men gave each other made you grateful for a fleeting second. They didn’t understand your secret codes and languages. But they will soon.
Your jaw was clenched so hard that your teeth ached. You damn near cracked them. While your voice before was dripping with venom, it was now drowning in it. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
“Hex, I-”
You finally came over, nearly pushing the captain out of the way in your warpath. Through the screen, Kate could see how angry you were. Not just angry, furious. She steeled herself, ready for your onslaught of curses, stopping herself midway through her explanation. “I don’t do this shit, Kate! I work solo for a very particular fucking reason. And now you want me to work with four strange men?! Now you want me to play nice?! I’m not a fucking soldier that can just be ordered around!”
“I know! I know. . . But. . . we’re desperate. I’m desperate, Hex. Please, this is the last favor I will ever ask from you. This is an awful target we’re talking about. Someone that is better off in this world dead.”
“You mean Makarov, right? Why should I clean up your government’s fuck-up? Again, might I add.” You spat. You lived off the grid and weren’t a citizen of anywhere, but you still watched the news. You always knew what was going on in the world among other secrets. Makarov was a threat to the world, but as far as you were concerned, it wasn’t your problem. If anything, the government needed this lesson as a direct consequence of their negligence and incompetence. 
“Because Chalice.” She simply stated, knowing that her final word was a last ditch effort. Chalice was an agreement that you two had made long ago. It could only be used once in your lives, a truly desperate resort for help. If one of you uttered it, then the other would have no choice but to help, no matter the request. That was the law between your friendship, among other things. The other code words were favors, but this was the ultimate one. Life or death.
You considered punching the laptop in anger. Right at Kate’s face. You didn’t like her call for Athame or Chalice, but now you didn’t have a choice but to comply. It didn’t mean that you weren’t still furious though. “Fuck you, Kate.”
“Thank you, Hex.” She breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to tell you more about what she needed from you, but she knew that you had to cool off first otherwise you would burst into flames. That would've made things harder for all of you. So, she nodded as a signal for dismissal which you gladly took. You retreated to your room, locking the door shut and basking in the darkness. 
You could feel the blood boil within you. It burned your insides and choked you. Grabbing your pillow, you pressed it against your face and screamed out your frustration. When that didn’t help, you punched the exposed logs of your cabin wall until your knuckles were splintered and bleeding.
~
Ghost sat on the couch, his thoughts swirling with uncertainty. The rest of the meeting with Laswell was brief, wanting them to try to decompress for the next several hours. Sleep, eat, process. All in the comfort of an assassin’s home. 
Compared to your personality, the cabin was decorated warmly. Everything was cozy, earthy, and fresh. The fire crackled comfortably, the plush couch was broken in, and every wooden piece of furniture looked hand-made. Bookshelves were filled with classic books and another shelf collected various music records. The only thing that seemed out of place was the lack of real personal mementos. No pictures, no art, not even knick-knacks. The others didn’t seem to notice or care as they picked through the food left in the kitchen. But for Simon, it left him uneasy.
He recalled the briefing before they were sent to the middle of nowhere to you. Kate said that you were an old friend of hers from high school. You have been friends ever since, but you were different than most people. You were a deadly assassin unknown by the world. No records, no pictures, not even a birth certificate. You handled delicate problems with grace and grave justice. You always worked alone, you didn’t trust others, and you were deadly. Everything about you was a secret until Kate made the crucial choice to ask for your help. Hell, they didn’t even know your call sign until Kate said it over the video call. 
“You should eat, Lt. There’s a lot of options, but they’re dwindling fast.” Soap patted him on the shoulder, awakening him from deep thought. Ghost looked up at the sergeant, watching him stuff a sandwich into his mouth. It looked like all the deli meat from one packet was in between the bread. No lettuce or tomato. 
“In a bit. I’m gonna talk to Hex real quick and ask some questions.” He replied and got up from the couch. 
Soap swallowed nervously. “Kate said that she’s gonna need time to cool off. . .”
“Our new member is part of the team now. She’s gonna have to get used to us even if she wants time for herself.” He justified it with a shrug of his shoulders. Soap shook his head and walked back into the kitchen, knowing that what Simon was about to do was most likely going to be a bad idea.
Ghost walked down the hall, observing each door as he passed them. Most of them were slightly open revealing extra bedrooms, an office, and a bathroom. Only two of them remained closed, both locked with keypads. For a second, he wondered which bedroom was yours before he could hear the sound of light music behind one of them along with swearing. It made him wonder what was behind the other door that was locked down.
Deciding to let it go for now, he approached your door and knocked. “Hex, open up.”
He heard you let out a frustrated groan before the door opened up. It was only just enough to see you, the pure darkness behind you, and the blood dripping down your fists. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and quirked a brow that you couldn’t see behind the mask. It didn’t take a genius to realize what you had done. “Are you done throwing a temper tantrum?”
You scowled at him, a fire in your eyes that made Simon’s heart skip a beat which confused him. He wasn’t afraid of you, so why would his heart alter its beat for you?
“If I knew that you were just going to insult me, I would’ve shot you dead on my porch.” You bitterly snapped, moving to close the door in his face. However, Ghost stopped it from slamming and took your hand in his, observing the damage you’ve done to yourself.
Your breath caught in your throat. Electricity ran through you at his touch. When was the last time someone has touched you? You attempted to pull back, but his hand firmly gripped yours. “Hey! What the fuck? Let go of me!”
“Calm down and let me see. It hurts, doesn’t it? Stings?” 
You narrowed your eyes, but eventually nodded. It did sting and the dripping blood already stained your carpet. However, you could take care of it yourself. You didn’t need some man coming in to try to fix you. “I’ll be fine. I can tend to it myself.”
“First aid in the bathroom?” He asked, seeming to ignore your clear hint that you wanted to be alone. 
Understanding that he probably wouldn’t drop this until he saw gauze around your knuckles, you headed to the hall bathroom with a huff, opened up the cabinet, and took out the first aid kit. You then took a seat at the edge of the tub and began patching yourself up. Every now and then you looked up towards the doorway, making sure that the skull man was watching you take care of yourself. Without his help. Without anyone’s help.
Finally, your hands were wrapped and the bleeding had stopped. You held up your hands towards him. “Happy now? Will you leave me alone now?”
“Hex.” Ghost simply said as a warning. God, you were infuriating. An attitude problem was something he would normally be able to snuff out immediately. He did it all the time when training new soldiers. Not you though. New soldiers were like little candles, easily blown out of their fire with just a breath. You? You were like a raging forest fire. One that clearly had its own traumas over years of service that the world may never know. 
You didn’t like how he studied you. How his eyes trained on you were a mix between hatred, curiosity, and something else that you couldn’t quite put your finger on. A magnetic pull that begged for you to look at him too. You also didn’t like how he was trying to treat you like one of his rookie soldiers. The only thing you wanted to do to make it all stop was to push him away. “Don’t talk to me like some new recruit straight out of school. I’ve already earned my place in the world with the amount of scars I have. So, don’t treat me like I’m under you. I won’t even let your captain talk to me like that.”
After putting the first aid back where it belonged, you attempted to leave the bathroom and retreat back to your bedroom. Yet, Ghost wasn’t giving up just yet. His hold body blocked the bathroom exit. He was tall, strong, and sturdy. It wasn’t hard for him to completely fill up the space. However, that didn’t intimidate you. You got up close, and looked straight into those icy blues. Even with the black warpaint, you could tell that his lashes were meant to be blonde. Some of the paint had flecked off revealing some true color. You wondered what the rest of his face looked like for a second. Just a second.
You stood your ground, engaging in a heated staring contest. It was like lightning crackling between the two of you. After a while though, Simon finally gave in and held his hand up like a handshake. “Lieutenant. They call me Ghost.” 
Hesitantly, you took his hand and firmly shook it, refusing to back down from a battle of wills. “Hex. That’s all you will know me by.”
Suddenly, he pulled you in closer, your chest almost touching his. On instinct, you pulled a knife from the waistband of your underwear. It was the one you took with you earlier for the showdown at the door. You held it to his neck, blade dipping in until you could feel the push back of skin. Ghost didn’t flinch or jump back at your defense. Instead, he whispered into your ear that he wanted to get close to in the first place. “As hard as you may try to fight it, you’re going to know me. And I’m going to know you.”
You bit back the shiver that went down your spine from the whisper, aching to slice his throat in retaliation. Chalice had you pinned, though. You had to avoid killing the people you are going to be working with at the very least. 
Ghost slowly backed up and headed back towards the kitchen for some food, leaving you to process what just happened. You silently walked back to your room without looking back at him, ears turning red and heart racing unnaturally. You didn’t want to give him any satisfaction by giving him any more attention. However, Simon was already somewhat satisfied. 
Yet, there was a part of him that wanted more.
Soap was eating a piece of lasagna when he walked in. Gaz and Price were quietly conversing at the other end of the island. It took a lot of food to fill up men like them. It wouldn’t take long for them to eat you out of your house and home unfortunately. 
“So, how did it go?” Soap nosely inquired. As Simon surveyed the food before picking out a tupperware full of stew, he shrugged casually.
“She almost sliced my head off.”
Soap suppressed a chuckle and did his best impersonation of Laswell. “Sounds like it went smoothly then.”
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angry-geese · 1 year ago
Text
The Weight - Sukuna x Reader
Warnings: smut//not osha compliant. arranged marriage au. blood/cannibalism mention. biting/size kink. unprotected sex, creampies. afab reader
synopsis: an arranged marriage au where the reader chooses sukuna instead of one of the men from her village
word count: 10.3k
a/n: this has been sitting in my drafts since probably last february and I finally got around to finishing it lol
jjk masterlist
As mid-afternoon turns to dusk, you realize you have nothing to show for your hours in these woods. You know, reasonably, you should cut your losses for the day, and return home. In a little over an hour, it’ll be dark, and navigating these woods will become a challenge. But winter has come and gone with a vengeance, leaving food stores low. The thought of fresh meat is too much for you to quit now.
Fresh tracks mark the once-smooth creek bed. Deer. At least three. They’ve bedded down here, as evident by the smell, and flattened patches of grass. For several meters, the tracks nearly overlap themselves, before heading off in separate directions. It's been years since you’ve traveled this deep into the woods, and those few times were accompanied by your father, or uncle. Your solitude has you jumping at every rustle of a leaf, and snapped twig. It's when the woods fall silent that you need to worry. That means a predator is near. As long as you can hear bugs, or birds, you'll be okay.
Further ahead—maybe twenty yards—is a buck that stopped to drink from the creek. 
You knock an arrow, lining the broadhead up with your target. Something feels wrong. The string feels too taut. It slips from your fingers prematurely. The arrow hits just behind the front shoulder, and—in theory—should puncture the heart. A shot like that—in theory—should drop an animal like this where it stands. Today it doesn't. The buck takes off running.
Between the footprints, and little droplets of blood, a clear trail is left behind. When you do finally come upon your prey, the crickets have fallen silent. The buck lays on its side in the grass, chest heaving. You ready your knife to put the poor thing out of its misery when something—someone—emerges from the treeline on the opposite side of the clearing. 
Your body is moving before you can fully process the situation. You flatten yourself out on the ground, hiding under the cover of some bushes. If the man does see you, then he makes no note of it. He draws closer, stopping to kneel beside the buck. It’s too dark to make out his face. Something about him has the hair on the back of your neck on end. He hauls the carcass up onto his shoulder, turning to return in the direction in which he came. 
The absurdness of it all has you frozen. You blink several times as if to make sure this isn't your mind playing tricks on you. Once reality sets in, you’re back on your feet, chasing after him.
“That's mine!” You say, hoping the volume of your voice is enough to scare off the thief. It isn't.
What you first assume to be another trick of the lighting becomes a horrifying reality as you notice the true size of the man. The man—being, or whatever he is—towers over you, completely dwarfing you in size. Mild annoyance is all that is visible on his face as he turns to you. From the deer, he rips out your arrow, tossing it at your feet. The broadhead has snapped off, as well as the shaft is bent. If you so desire, you suppose you could repair it. Not that you have any wish to. Sometimes it is simply better to cut your losses.
But you have more pressing things to deal with right now.
“And just what do you plan to accomplish, little lamb?” He asks. “A deer like this can weigh as much as a grown man. Do you plan to carry this back all by yourself?”
It’ll be tiring, but not impossible. Gutting and dressing it here would remove a lot of unnecessary weight, but would render plenty of valuable meat and organs useless. All that extra meat and skin could be used better elsewhere…
You are overcome with the urge to run, yet his gaze has your feet firmly planted on the ground. Your eyes fall to a small red splotch on his kimono—a blood stain. It can't be from the deer, it's far too old. It’s not until your knees knock together that you realize you’re trembling.
The action of him moving closer causes a cry of panic to leave you, unintentionally calling out for your father. 
“What—who are you?!” You ask as you scramble backwards. 
“I am Ryoumen Sukuna, the King of Curses, my dear,” he says. “Now, shall we get this back to your home?”
Fear threatens to overcome you. Even if you could draw an arrow in time, you doubt it would truly hurt him. Yet, in spite of your fear, you know he has no plans to harm you. Once you’re in sight of the village, he sets the deer down, and gestures for you to take the lead.
“Why are you helping me?” You ask. You’re certain the look on your face suggests you still expect him to eat you. 
“Why do you ask?” He says. “Maybe I wanted the location of your home. It seems there are plenty of sacrifices here for me.”
“Wait a minute!” You say, eyes widening with fear. A mix of panic and guilt consumes you. “You can't-”
A look resembling amusement crosses his face. “I mean no harm to your village,” Sukuna says, “but in five years, I will return to claim what is mine.”
The strange man would vanish upon reaching the outskirts of your village, and in the nearly five years that follow, you would not once traverse so deep into the woods. On several occasions, you would try to retrace your steps, but would never once come across that clearing. When you would bring it up to your father, or any of the other village elders, your concerns would be brushed off, or outright ignored. Years would pass and slowly, achingly slowly, you would forget about the man in the woods entirely.
The coming spring brings your twenty-eighth birthday, and the looming threat of being an “older” unmarried woman.
If you had any say in the matter, you wouldn't get married at all. Plenty of older women exist, happily unmarried, yet your mother insists that you must find a husband. Any attempts to convince her that you’re fine with the way things are, fail. Once it became clear you weren't going to seek a husband on your own, your mother took upon the task of finding a suitor for you. Over the course of several months, meetings were arranged with various men, and with each rejected one, your mother grew more desperate to find the perfect match. 
Your mother insists you're cursed. Your father thinks you’re simply unlucky. When you asked how marriage was supposed to fix that curse, she had no answer for you.
In the months prior to your birthday, your mother proposed a deal to you: meet with another man—the son of a wealthy merchant. That if this meeting went well, even if you didn't marry him, she would stop pestering you about getting married. Tired of her pestering, you relented, and agreed to meet him. And as the days draw closer, you only feel dread towards him. 
The outcome of tonight has already been decided by you: failure. Whether your mother knows this or not is hard to tell. Judging her tense nature, you suspect she knows your plans.
“I was already married at your age,” she says, tightening your obi, “I used to have a dress just like this.”
“The difference is, you knew him already,” you say, “and I am meeting a stranger.”
“I am simply doing what I think is best for you,” she says. “This is your chance to get out of this village—to live a better life! Don't you want that?”
Her eyes meet yours in one last pleading glance. It makes you wonder; did she have such a conversation with her mother? Did your grandmother go through such trouble to match her to your father? Or did this come easier to her, than it did to you?
You suppose he’s handsome. The silks he wears are clearly expensive, with threads like woven gold. His features are sharp—what one could describe as noble, but you find him truly dull. But he is scrawny—squishy, with hands that show he has never worked a day in his life. The little conversation he makes is dreadfully boring. His father is an older man, with a graying beard, and sagging eyes. His mother is considerably younger, dressed in blue, with a small scar on her chin. Her silky black hair falls down her back. The little conversation you do have is short, but polite. The typical small talk you would have with a stranger.
Your mother does her best to talk you up. She’s gotten pretty good at that over the past few years. Your father interjects here and there, but it's your mother that does the majority of the talking. 
“She’s strong. A talented hunter. Good with a knife.” Your father says. This time, you’re paying attention when he speaks.
Your potential father-in-law seems unimpressed with your father’s attempts to talk you up. Perhaps if you were a son, this conversation would go differently. If you were a son, your mother wouldn't be so stressed about you being married before 30. Your growing irritation mounts when you set down your cutlery, turning to look the old man in his eyes.
“And what about him?” You ask, motioning to his son. “Look at him—how is he supposed to give me a strong child?”
The energy in the room seems to shift entirely. Your father nearly chokes on his wine, but his eyes are firmly trained on your mother. She glares daggers at you, gripping her spoon so tightly that her knuckles turn white.
“What?” You ask. “I am the one getting married. Don't I get a say in this?”
Are you trying to screw this up? Your mother’s face seems to ask.
“A good father controls his daughter,” the man says, “especially one with such a sharp tongue.”
“I can serve this village, or I can control my daughter, but I cannot do both,” your father says, “she’s not a child anymore, she can make her own choices.”
That earns a small smirk from you. Leave it to him to stand up for you.
“That is exactly why this is so grievous,” the man says, “my son will not marry an old maid with an attitude problem!”
“And I will not have in-laws as insufferable as you!” You bring your knife down on the table, narrowly missing his fingers. This little outburst of yours at dinner will certainly have consequences. Your mother’s wrath is only the beginning.
They don't leave in nearly as big of a hurry as you’d expect from a man who was just threatened with a knife, but they do hurry out, making certain not to look back.
“Maybe we should have offered to let them stay,” says your father, “it’s not safe to be out on the road after dark.”
“We’re lucky to not have them send guards after us for that,” your mother says, and for once, you agree with her. “Threatening a man like that is a new low, even for you.”
After such a disastrous dinner, you’re not particularly eager to go find your parents. You linger towards the outskirts of your village for as long as daylight allows you to. Once it grows too dark to stay out, you begin the trek back to your home, praying your parents—or at least your mother—have simply gone to bed. Maybe your father will forgive such a night, but your mother certainly won't. Over the past year you’ve done enough to earn her ire, this will not help your case.
Sitting outside is your mother, her eyes trained on a dying fire. Although she doesn't acknowledge you, you know she’s noticed you. Part of you wonders if you should speak first. Would that even improve your situation, or simply make it worse?
“You win.” She says. 
“What?” You ask.
“You win. I told you I’d stop after this, remember?” She asks. “Besides, I stopped liking him after that comment he made about your father.”
You still don't believe it's over. No tone of accusation clings to her voice, yet you can't help being suspicious.
“I don't get it.” You say.
“I just want what's best for you.” She says. “I want you to live a long and happy life. Are you really content to spend the rest of your life in this village? Stuck taking care of your brother and father?”
“That sounds like the preferable outcome,” you say, “compared to having in-laws I can't stand.”
“Where does he get off calling you an old maid anyway?” She says.
A small smile crosses your lips. This is about the best she'll get, and she knows this, a grin crossing her own face. A moment that should be one of triumph—at least for you—seems to be more sorrowful. The older you grow, the further apart you drift from her, and with that comes a strange, aching loneliness. You long for a time in your youth; the days when she would play dolls with you in-between house chores. You miss the tiny clothes she’d sew for them. The furniture made of timber scraps she’d hand paint. Oh how long has it been since she last braided your hair? Or brushed it? Or helped you wash it? 
Did she have these same feelings about her own mother? Or was it easy for her? Does she too mourn those moments you used to share?
You don't remember her always looking this old. That’s not to say she isn't beautiful still—age does not nullify beauty. But she looks tired now. The dark circles under her eyes are more prominent than ever. The skin around her eyes crinkles when she laughs, or smiles. Her hair is littered with grays—like little silver threads. She looks like you.
From within the nearly pitch-black woods comes a scream; not that of an animal, but of man. When the scream rings out again, it’s much easier to understand. It’s a cry for help.
Emerging out of the treeline, and following the main road is a man, half hunched over and clutching his stomach. He makes it several yards into the village before collapsing. Enough blood pours from the wound on his side that you can smell it. A metallic taste lingers in the air, stuck to the back of your throat. Blood. 
You’re the first to run over, followed shortly behind by your mother. The injured, shambling figure collapses upon the road. It’s only as you draw closer that you recognize him, albeit barely: the man from dinner. His clothes at one point in time were yellow in color, but are now stained a deep brown in color from a mix of dirt and blood.
“We need a doctor over here!” Mother cries out, her voice echoing against the wall of trees.
Someone must hear, because eventually a group of men burst out of a nearby house. They make quick work of rolling him onto his back, granting you a better look at his wounds. Three long slashes across his stomach. From your mother comes a gasp, followed by her clamping her hand over her mouth. The young man succumbs to his wounds before anyone is able to help him. He’s lost too much blood. People don't come back from that.
“Was he stabbed?” One man asks.
“Looks like knife marks,” comments another.
“Not a knife,” the oldest of the three says, “claws.”
“Do you think a mountain lion got to him?” You ask.
The oldest of the men shakes his head. “Cats like that don't get this close to towns. They avoid people if they can. A bear, maybe; if he got in between a mother and cub. But even that seems unlikely…”
This is why you don't go into the woods after dark. This is why you lock your doors and close your shutters tight when the sun sets. Bad things lurk out there, but they are not bears, nor are they mountain lions.
Something about the height of a person bursts from the treeline. Atop the legs of a chicken is a head only humanesque in the way corpses are. Sunken eyes sit atop a shriveled nose, and cracked lips. Its skin seems to be hanging off bone. Still, it takes you a moment to register that it’s fear you feel. Your palms prickle with sweat, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The urge to flee is nearly unbearable.
More of these creatures emerge from the direction of the nearly-set sun. They appear to come in all sorts of horrid shapes, and sizes, the smallest being no larger than a bird, and the largest about the size of a cow. Fear threatens to overcome you entirely. At least twenty of the creatures leave the treeline, although you suspect more remain hidden within it. The temperature must drop by ten degrees. It’s as if all the moisture has been sucked from the air. Those who dared leave their homes to look at the source of the commotion have now retreated, locking their doors behind them. 
The collar of your dress jerks backwards as your mother struggles to drag you back towards the house. “Get your father!” She says. “Hurry!” 
“What about you?!” You ask.
“Just get your father,” she says.
And you do so, running as fast as your feet will take you. The chilly night air renders your fingertips numb, and your face burning. He’s asleep in his chair, and wakes with a gasp as you shake him, motioning frantically to the door. The words that leave you are incoherent, but he must understand your panic. He retrieves his sword, telling you to lock the door behind him. You don't listen. You never listen, you can hear your mother say now. A sudden burst of light draws your attention—a nearby house has caught fire. Those strange, horrid creatures swarm around it like flies. Several neighbors have exited their houses, and begun throwing buckets of water upon the blaze, but the fire is too strong.
And from the treeline emerges that man from the woods all those years ago. 
In five years time, he has not aged a day. His cruelly sharp features appear the same within the flicker of the firelight. They fall before him on their hands and knees, heads bowed in fear. You only realize you’re shaking when you move closer to the window, peeking out through the crack in the shutters. 
The King of Curses, he called himself, all those years ago.
His mouth moves as if he's speaking, but you can only make out about half of what he says. The ringing in your ears is too loud to make sense of much.
“My offerings lessen, my shrine lies defiled,” he says, “and you humans sit here complacent. I gave you five years to make amends and this is what you do with it?”
You know, logically, that your father is going to die. He is no match for the creatures, let alone that strange man. You must do something. Even if it is beyond logic, or reason, you would not forgive yourself if you did not act.
“Then what is it you require of us?” Asks father, his hands trembling slightly. You can tell it’s more than just the dancing light of the fire. He is truly frightened.
“An offering,” says the King of Curses. “A sacrifice.”
“We have nothing to offer,” says father, “the river has run dry of fish—our crops have withered! We have nothing to offer, we’re starving regardless!”
The King of Curses eyes drift to your hiding place, before landing back on your father. “You said it yourself.” He says. “You’ll starve regardless. What difference does it make that you should give up one of your own? Won't there only be less mouths to feed?”
Your arrows rattle loudly as you pull one from your quiver, knocking it. From this angle, and sitting half crouched on the ground, you can't bring it to a full draw. Not only does that mess with your aim, but alter the power of the shot too. That can be accounted for. You adjust your angle to be a little higher—right above his head. When you release the string, the arrow gives way with a thunk! The shot is dead on; your arrow whistling towards the demon king’s head. He brings his spear up, knocking it aside. Several heads whip back towards you, their faces contorted in a mix of anger, and fear. 
You’re not quite sure who grabs you first—it must be more than one person. Several sets of hands are upon you, dragging you from the house. Any attempts to fight it fail on your part, there are simply too many people to kick off. They drop you in the dirt beside your father. You don't dare look at him. You know his eyes are filled with fear. 
“We’ll—we’ll put it to a vote,” says one of the elders. “All those in favor of sending this woman as an offering…”
Two other elders raise their hands. Then several of the men. Then, reluctantly, the mother of a neighboring family. Even more hands pop up after that. Although maybe a minute passes, it feels like hours. At least a dozen sets of eyes are on you.
“Out of all of you,” the demon king says, eyes following across the crowd that’s now gathered, “she was the only one of you to fight back, yet you punish such an action?”
Silence is the only response the crowd can conjure up. A groan so loud that the ground rumbles beneath it rings out as the house gives way, collapsing in on itself in a rain of ash and embers.
“Wait!” Your father cries out, “let me go in her place!”
Several more incomprehensible sentence fragments leave him. He pleads and pleads to no avail. The last view you get of your village is of the spirits retreating back into the woods.
It must be hours before your state of shock wears off. Dawn breaks bleak and gray over the horizon. The temple he brings you lies in ruin. You must be one of the first people to set foot in here in years. A cracked foundation gives way to walls overtaken by vines. Dust and ash layers the ground, and every surface imaginable.
Sukuna must not expect you to try to run. Nothing is done to prevent you from escaping. There are no doors to lock. No ropes or cages. The only real barrier of escape is the trek home through miles of woods. Should you wait until sunrise, the trip won't be impossible. It is the fear of what remains for you that prevents you from returning.
Would there even be anything to go back to? Is it even worth it after what they did? They did not hesitate as they offered you as a sacrifice. Whatever happens to them… they have it coming.
Such thoughts do little to comfort you. If anything, they make you feel worse. What little strength you have left goes into stopping the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks. You manage. Barely.
Unable to find it within you to do anything else, you sit. Only a thin, woven mat separates you and the hard floor. Footsteps draw closer down the hall, the noise only amplified by the high ceilings of the temple.
Uraume. That’s what Sukuna called them. A strange being that looks human, but appears to be more than such. They enter the room, a shock a white hair visible before the rest of them is. They wear the kimono of an unmarried woman, in vibrant shades of orange, blues, and pinks woven in the pattern of flowers. Hooked around one arm is a pail of water. Under the other arm is a roll of cloth. Contained within the cloth is a mix of hygiene supplies; a sponge, comb, various vials of oils and creams. 
Uraume treats you like one would treat a frightened animal. They kneel on the ground before you, leaving about the distance of a foot. When you don't flinch, or shy away, they move closer.
“You’re covered in ash,” they say, “let me help.”
With the sponge, they dab away the bits of dirt and ash that have caked to your skin. Human contact like this should, in theory, be intimate, but in this situation it feels like anything but that. Uraume’s touch feels cold, and clinical. With them comes a strange, uncanny feeling, like you are not looking into the eyes of a human, but of a corpse. The reason behind their kindness is a mystery to you. It feels wrong to question them, but you can't help but think there is something sinister behind their actions. Their casualness suggests this isn't the first time they’ve done this. That thought does nothing to comfort you, so you quickly push it aside.
Next, they move on to your neck, then down to the exposed bits of your chest, and shoulders. 
“Such a beautiful dress,” they comment. You reply weakly, saying it belonged to your mother. Their response to that is little more than a hum.
They take your hands, scrubbing the dirt from under your nails with a small brush. After that, a comb is worked through your hair, taking great care to not pull on any knots that have formed. Once they can work their hands through your hair with no resistance, they stop.
Uraume leans back to examine their work, deeming you presentable. Gathering what they brought with them, they make their way towards the door, turning back once to say: “I’ll bring something to eat.”
The events of the night have left you without an appetite. You probably should eat something. It’ll be important to keep your energy up. The little adrenaline left within you has you jumping at any small noise, or shadow. Sleep feels like an impossibility right now.
About ten minutes pass before Uraume returns carrying a platter. Tea, pickled vegetables, a hunk of bread, a bowl of some kind of stew. It smells quite good, but you merely pick at it. Like your hesitation to sleep, you can hardly eat. Uraume sits with you, picking at their own food, but never finishing it. A million questions race through your mind, although you can barely bring yourself to ask them.
Would they even answer you? Or does this have a more sinister plan behind it?
Finally, you find enough of your voice to ask: “Where is…?”
“I’ve prepared a bath for master Sukuna,” they say, “he’ll be joining us shortly.”
Your attention turns back to the bowl in your hands, which soon slips through your fingers, breaking upon the floor. What little appetite you had is soured entirely. This is it. You’re nearly certain you’re going to die here.
Your attempt to clean up the mess is stopped by Uraume. They insist upon cleaning it themselves, taking great care not to cut their hands on the shards.
“Why are you helping me?” You ask, shocked at how small your voice sounds.
“Master Sukuna likes to play with his food before he eats it,” they say.
Uraume leaves shortly after, taking the leftover dishes with them. You remain seated, eyes moving between the two exits of the room. One takes you to the entrance of the temple; you’re not certain where the other leads. The first is almost guaranteed to be guarded, though. Trying to run now is a bad idea. But when will you get another chance?
You will not sit idly by as death draws closer. Like the previous night, you feel as if you must do something. It was your own foolish actions that got you into this mess, says a small voice in the back of your head.
Trapped under your heel is a small pottery shard, left over from the shattered bowl. It’s small enough to conceal in your palm. Sharp. Better for stabbing than it is slashing, but it will be good enough at either. Once Sukuna returns, you’ll get your chance.
The rush of adrenaline has started to wear off now, rendering your arms weak, and your legs shaky. If you were to sit down now, you’re certain it would be a while before you get back up. It is the body fighting itself; fight or flight mode mixing with exhaustion. If you do not stop and rest, your body will give out on you eventually.
So you stand there and pace, clutching your shard of pottery close. Maybe thirty minutes pass in the time it takes Sukuna to enter, but it feels like hours. Adrenaline turns into fatigue.
Tears burn at your eyes again, but you’re able to blink them back. A mix of shock and betrayal has left you nothing short of exhausted. Sukuna’s towering stature only helps to make you feel like a lamb about to be devoured by a wolf.
“I trust Uraume has been of assistance,” Sukuna says. 
Unsure of how to respond, you simply nod.
“What now?” You ask. “Is this the part where you’re supposed to eat me?”
That earns a laugh from him, although it’s strange sounding, as if the very action is foreign to him.
“Many decades ago, the people of your village—among others—would hold a festival during harvest season,” he says, “it was meant as a sign of peace. An offering in return to not raze their homes,
“The people of your village have grown laze, and complacent. They have forgotten their place as humans, and needed to be reminded of it. You are simply another offering. Something to tide me over.”
Sukuna draws close enough for you to feel his breath across the back of your neck. You shudder. Adrenaline courses through you once again.
This is it, you think, you are going to die. 
In one last attempt to preserve your dignity, you aim for his jugular, and swing the shard of pottery towards it. A hand wraps around your wrist before it can make contact. A second set of arms are trapping you against his body before you can even register it. His breath is warm against your cheek, teeth inhumanly sharp in the dim light.
“You are entertainment.” He says. 
That same set of sharp teeth drag up your neck. Some sick sense of pleasure runs up your spine at the feeling: being a little lamb in the jaws of a predator. It would take so little effort from him to render you lifeless that it’s almost comical. Adrenaline turns to delirium in your mind. 
What happens if he finally grows bored of you? It’s not a matter of “if” in this case, it’s a matter of “when”. You have an idea of what will happen once he does.
You don't hear him leave, so much as you notice his lack of presence.
Sukuna is gone for most of the following day. In that time, you explore much of the temple in an attempt to gain your bearings. It’s sparsely furnished, and dilapidated for the most part, but there are some signs of life. On a lower level of the temple is a bedroom, where the bed alone is as big as a room in your home. Must be Sukuna’s. Another, smaller room appears to be Uraume’s quarters. A small kitchen branches off the hallway not far from this. 
The later half of the day is spent trying to familiarize yourself with your surroundings. Thick woods surround the structure, spreading out for what must be miles. To the North is a creek. If you followed it, you might possibly meet up with the river by your village. Whether you could do so before nightfall is another question entirely. Finding yourself stuck in unfamiliar woods past dark may prove to be a death sentence.
Even if you could go back, would you want to? Their lack of hesitation towards sacrificing you still rings clear in your mind.
Sleep seems to be the best way to pass the time. There isn't much else to do around here. In the hours before dusk, you manage to drag yourself out of bed, and into the woods that surround the temple. You justify it by saying that fresh air will do you good, not that anyone asks you. The only person around to do so would be Uraume, though you don't see much of them.
Heavy fog settles upon the trees, causing the day to take on a quiet, sleepy nature. Little cream-colored mushrooms pop up through the layer of moss and dead leaves that blanket the forest floor. Carved out over years of use is a dirt path, barely wide enough for a person to walk through. Following it for about ten minutes brings you to a pond. At one end, the start of a small creek leads downhill. Little fish are visible just under the surface. Leaving your socks and shoes at the shore, you wade out into the water. It’s cool, but not chilly. The mud feels soft underneath your feet. Being outside helps settle your nerves a bit. Outright terror is replaced with uneasiness now. While not entirely better, it’s an improvement to your previous mood.
From the treeline opposite of the path you took, a figure enters the clearing. Sukuna. Adrenaline spikes through your body at the sight of him. Your pulse quickens, and fear prickles in your palms. Every cell of your being is telling you to run.
Sukuna motions with his hand for you to follow him. It is not an offer, so much as it’s a command. Following a short walk on a stoney path, you find yourself overlooking a rock cliff-face, and a small wood hut. Scattered about are several steaming pools, which bubble up from the ground, layering upon the cliff-face like stairs.
Sukuna undressed at the wood hut, leaving his clothes hanging upon the rafters. Your gaze remains firmly on the ground. You should not be seeing him like this. This feels far too intimate. You try not to let your gaze linger too long, but can't help it. The sight of his back alone is hard to tear your eyes away from; the muscles, the tattoos, the curve of his spine. There is a strange, supernatural beauty to him. You eye him with caution, yet curiosity. 
Why has he brought you here? What does he want? Is this simply a ritual before he eats you?
Certainly, if you were to scream, no one would be nearby to hear you. 
It strikes you just how easily his teeth could tear through your jugular. How his sharp nails could shred your flesh to ribbons. Sukuna is far faster and stronger than you, outrunning him is not an option.
Following his lead, you undress, and leave your clothes folded neatly upon a rock. Next comes the task of taking down your hair, and combing through it with your fingers, finding it still knot-free from the events of the previous night. Only then do you approach the largest of the three pools, and wade into it. At its deepest, it's a little above your waist. You could walk all the way across and never once have your feet leave the ground.
You settle upon a rock towards the edge, half submerged in the pool. The hot water feels nice upon your sore muscles. Your eyes trail ribbons of steam as they curl off the water. A wave of self consciousness rolls over you. You sink further into the water, crossing your arms in front of your chest. It’s up to your chin now. Sometime during this, it starts raining. The droplets leave little ripples across the surface of the water. Fall brings the smell of damp earth, and decaying leaves with it. Something that should be comforting only makes your stomach turn.
“You look frightened, little lamb,” Sukuna says.
Is it so obvious? 
“I still don't believe this isn't some attempt to eat me.” You ask, though you’re not certain you want the answer.
“Had I wanted to eat you, I would have had Uraume make preparations.” He says.
You still don't believe him. How many people met their fate at his hands before you? There is no reason why you would be lucky—why you would escape your fate.
“Then what is it you want from me?” You ask.
His expression softens, shoulders lowering with a sigh. The space between his eyebrows is not so harshly creased anymore. 
“I am not like the typical curses you have met,” Sukuna says, “I require your permission.” 
“Permission for what?” You shrink back as he draws closer, stopping mere inches from you. He’d tower over the tallest man, let alone someone like you.
A kiss. Hungry, and overbearing, but a kiss nonetheless. Sukuna has to lean down, and you have to crane your neck up to complete the action. His movements feel stiff, clinical, as if he hasn't done this many times before. The action causes warmth to bloom in your chest, and spread out to your limbs. The hands that cup your face are nearly large enough to encompass it entirely. He tastes like wine, and something vaguely metallic. The thought that it might be blood crosses your mind for only a moment. You’d much rather think about other things. 
“Will you devote yourself to me, completely and entirely?” He asks.
Funny, you think, had a human man asked you the same thing, you would have laughed in his face. Yet you find yourself bewitched by the King of Curses. Curious, and cautious all the same. This is not a feeling of love. It is something else entirely. You are a sacrifice, you remind yourself, this is the fate of a sacrifice.
“I devote myself to no man,” you say, “I don't see how you'd be any different.”
He hums in amusement, circling around you in the water. He stops behind you, slightly to your right. Sharp teeth graze across your shoulder. Large hands trace their way up your hips, then your body, coming to rest just below your breasts. You squeeze your thighs together in an attempt to relieve the strange pressure that has built up. Your heart rate picks up in pace. Sukuna must be able to sense this. A low laugh leaves him as he pulls away.
“Well then,” he says, “do I have your permission to continue?”
Continue what? You wish to ask. As if against your mind’s wishes, your head moves in a nod. “Yes,” you say.
You can only imagine the look on his face as you have your back to him. He’s close enough you can feel the warmth radiate off his body. Is he pleased? Amused? Smug that all it took was a kiss to make you let your guard down? 
Hands that should be calloused and rough are quite gentle with their touch. One comes to rest upon your hip, before trailing down to the space between your thighs. Seconds in and your knees seem to give out, your body supported only by him. One finger presses into you, then a second. You sigh at the intrusion. There’s little resistance as he presses into you. You’re too wet. Sukuna’s fingers are much larger than your own, though the stretch you feel is pleasant, not painful. Your thighs squeeze around his hand, drawing a low laugh from him. You can feel it rumble within his chest, which your back is pressed flush to.
Being so close to another being feels odd. The only intimacy you know is a platonic one. A familial one. This is different. Stronger. More intense. He finds the spot that makes you squirm and abuses it, toying with you like prey. It must be a game to him, you think, like cat and mouse. With one of your hands over your mouth, you try to muffle the lewd noises that spill from you. It’s a losing battle. All sorts of pleased sounding noises—from both you and him—echo through the clearing. Secretly, you’re glad this place is so remote. Should someone hear the lewd noises you’re making, you wouldn't recover from the embarrassment. He brings you just to the edge, but refuses to let you cross over. Frustration turns to desperation as you grind against him, chasing your own release. Sukuna doesn't appear opposed to your actions. He lets you work yourself up to—and through—your own release, the noises you make growing gradually more obscene until they come to a head in the form of an orgasm.
You remain in the water for a while afterwards. The layer of fog overhead makes the day take on a lazy, sleepy nature. His hands comb through your hair as you lay against his chest. Such a moment feels uncharacteristically tender for him. While you expect them to be sharp, his nails feel nice against your skin. The mouth on his stomach resembles a smirk, although the expression on his face is flat. Unreadable. A slight pang of disappointment shoots through you. You know it’s unreasonable of you to expect humanity from someone inherently inhuman. He does not—he can not—process things the way you do. Humans must appear so small and fragile to him.
You’re uncertain of how much time passes as you lay there, your limbs tangled with his. It doesn't feel like long enough. No time would feel long enough. You crave the touch of another being whether you want to admit that or not.
“It’s getting late,” he comments. Without another word, you watch as Sukuna dresses himself, and leaves.
You follow him as quickly as you can. You’re not quite fast enough, arriving back at the temple long after him. Dusk follows soon after. 
You find no sign of the King of Curses upon your return. Finding yourself with not much of an appetite, you head straight to bed. Uraume stops by once to offer tea, but you decline, insisting you’re tired, and just wish to sleep. Whether or not they believe you, you can't tell. That’s about the extent of every conversation you have; polite, but short.
Sukuna must not need to sleep. Not in the same way you do. You dress down into your underclothes, leaving the rest folded neatly upon a chair. They’re not dirty, just slightly wrinkled from the events of today. You crawl into the bed much larger than you, and attempt to sleep. When he crawls into the bed beside you, you do nothing to protest.
As time passes, you grow used to his presence. Falling into a routine takes mere days. In that time, you don't see much of Sukuna, or Uraume. Maybe it’s for the best. You’re not certain what you’d say to either of them. You figure it best not to question what Sukuna gets up to in his free time. If the events at your village are anything similar, you figure it best to pay them no mind.
The longer you spend here, the more curious you find yourself. At least twice you find your way back to the hot springs. Familiarizing yourself with the surrounding woods has you growing more confident when navigating it. Animal tracks and trails reveal themselves, bringing more life to the woods. 
Fall turns to winter. Rain gives way to snow, bringing in a bitter stormfront. It’s hard to tell how many days pass as the storm hits, rendering the three of you confined to the temple. Sukuna doesn't appear bothered at all by the cold, but you spend many bleak nights huddled by a fire. Sukuna approaches you on one of these nights; perhaps the bleakest and darkest one before the storm finally breaks. Your inability to leave the temple has you ready to claw out of your own skin. Never were you one to stay in one place very long. 
Days have passed and you haven't spoken much to one another. Not since the day at the hot springs. You find yourself especially longing for them on a day like this, where the cold makes your joints ache, and your lips cracked. Winter is among your least favorite of the seasons. A hot and sticky summer day was always preferred over a day like this. Sukuna must sense it. He finds you curled by the fire, wrapped in an assortment of quilts and fabrics. You can't tell if it’s morning, or evening. Snow has rendered midday as dark as dusk. 
You know you should get up, and toss more wood onto the fire. Should you let it die any further, it’s unlikely you’ll get it started again. Sukuna joins you in the room, sitting on the mat to your left. Finding yourself searching for warmth, you move closer to him. It’s an unconscious action at first. Once you recognize it, you can't find the willpower within you to stop.
You offer the edge of the blanket to him, basking in his warmth as the quilt is wrapped around both of you. One of his hands comes to rest upon your knee. Your gaze is trained on his face, while his remains on the dying fire. 
“I don't suppose you do this to every sacrifice you get,” you say, not expecting an answer.
The corners of his lips twitch into something that resembles a smile. Much life his laugh, his smile is stiff, and rather foreign feeling. Like he hasn't done such a thing in centuries.
“You are different from the sacrifices I have received in the past.” He says. 
You get the impression he is still figuring out what to do with you. Such a thought doesn't inspire confidence on your part, though you assume your situation could be worse. 
You're nearly in his lap now. The hand on your knee soon moves upwards onto your thigh. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he palms himself through his clothes. Some sick part of you wishes to taunt him. To tease him in the same way he has done to you. You part your legs just enough to encourage him. There must be something wrong with you, you think, no normal woman would enjoy the company of the King of Curses.
This is not your typical virgin sacrifice. It is little more than that. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure. To fuck without the intent to procreate.
“I always assumed you wouldn’t have these… urges.” You say.
“Many things lost their potency,” he says. “Food was never enough to satiate, drink was never enough to quench thirst. Sex has remained the same. Primal pleasure never loses its potency.”
So he was human. At least at one point in time…
“Like I said,” he hums, “I am not like the typical curses you have met. I require your permission.”
“You have it,” you say. 
Oh how dearly you wish to recreate the event at the hot springs. To feel the same build-up of emotions, and the following release. Such mindless pleasure has remained in your head, unable to be stifled by your own hands.
Off comes your kimono, guided down your shoulders by his hand. Your nipples stiffen when exposed to the open air. It is not the cold that has you shivering, but the expectation of what’s to come. His size, and calloused hands suggest his touch would be harsh, but you find to be the opposite. Sharp nails graze down your sides as he moves to kneel before you. You prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him.
His own clothes are left among the growing pile on the floor. He pumps his stiffening cock in his hand, the head of which weeps across his palm. A different kind of heat blooms in your stomach.
 Sharp teeth graze across your jaw, down your neck, before eventually nipping at your shoulder. A sting both painful and pleasurable radiates from the bite. Blood beads from the two points where he managed to break the skin, quickly lapped away by him. Part of your brain is telling you to push him away. The other part is telling you to expose your neck further. You’re not certain which to listen to as you lay under him, caged within his arms. Your breaths grow ragged, turning into quiet moans as his knee nudges your legs apart. This is different from the day at the hot springs. Sukuna is seeking something more—he is seeking his own pleasure this time.
A hand finds its way into your hair, gently tugging at it. Guided by his hand, you expose your neck further to him. He laps at the droplets of blood that form, sucking dark marks into the skin of your neck. Pain and pleasure overlap in your mind. Your thighs are a mess of your own slick, and the precum that leaks from the heads of his two cocks. It’s almost comical how you work yourself up in knots at only the slightest provocation by him.
You taste yourself on him as he kisses you. The bleeding from your neck has mostly stopped now. What remains will barely leave a scar. His lips trail down your neck, through the valley between your breasts, and down your stomach, before eventually stopping just shy of your cunt. The look of him alone has you growing as wet as a virgin; his hair disheveled from your hands running through it, the muscles in his shoulders appear more prominent now. His arms hook around your thighs, although he doesn't need to bother holding your legs open. You’d do it without prompt by him. Eager for your own release, and worked up into a soaked mess, you’d do anything to please him.
You shouldn't be enjoying it as much as you are. You know you should be afraid. It would take no effort from him at all to tear through your femoral artery, and let you bleed out. You would be helpless in the matter anyway; you’re nothing more than a little lamb trapped under a big bad wolf.
The feeling of his tongue is strange. With him on his knees, bowed in what resembles worship, has your stomach in knots. The lewdness of it all has you more worked up than anything else. A strange, pleasurable tension builds within you. He is not toying with you this time, but working you over. When you do finally cum, you cum hard, riding out your high on his face. The noises he’s making suggest he’s enjoying this almost more than you do.
He must be painfully hard now. The head of his cock is an angry shade of red, and leaking precum. Using his hand to guide him, the head of his cock presses into you. You’re too wet from his previous actions to notice much of a stretch. What little pain there is crosses over with pleasure in your mind. He groans as he sheathes himself within you fully. His expression softens just enough for you to take in the features of his face. He’s quite handsome now that you’re close enough to appreciate his looks. It makes you wonder what his life as a human was like. Was he royalty, or a commoner? What was his job? Did he ever have family?
You won't get an answer out of him no matter how hard you try. This is the most human the king of curses will ever appear. 
His thrusts are slow at first. Lazy. More like grinding, not proper fucking. With as sensitive as you still are, this doesn't make much of a difference. You’re still a writhing, moaning mess beneath him. Judging by the noises he’s making, he’s not far from cumming himself. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, and that seems to only encourage him. The muscles in his arms and shoulders gradually grow more tense before he shudders, then visibly relaxes. A warm sensation in your cunt follows soon after; he’s cum inside of you.
You lay like that for a while: limbs entwined, bodies curled around each other. He lets himself soften inside of you until the desire to pull out hits. You can tell your hips will be sore in the morning—whenever it decides to come. What little of his seed spills out of you is forced back in by his fingers. You assume it ties into his possessive nature. It must be a way of marking you as his. The fire has long since died out, though you find the warmth from his body adequate enough. 
“I don't think I can walk,” you lie, “carry me?”
Sukuna feigns annoyance, but relents, carrying you to the bed too large for any human. You quickly find your way under the covers. He finds himself in the space beside you. Fatigue hits you soon after, yet you find yourself unable to sleep.
“You were human once?” You ask.
The mood in the room seems to shift entirely. Sukuna is not one for conversation. You expected no different from a man like him. He looks at you with mild annoyance, as if deciding on his answer.
“I was. Once.” He says.
Your fingers trace across the tattoos on his wrist. “Do you miss it?” You ask. “Being human, I mean.”
“I am far stronger now than I was when I was a human.” He says. “I no longer need to eat, nor drink. I have the gift of eternal life so long as I am smart with my actions. I do not miss the fragility that comes with humanity.”
His words almost irritate you. So much more exists to humanity than what he says, from little things like sharing a summer even with a friend, tearing into ripe persimmons. Spending an evening hunched over a stew pot helping your mother. Kisses shared between a lover in the woods, or out in the fields. Stories exchanged by firelight. Intricately woven fabrics and paintings that might as well be indistinguishable from real life. So many beautiful things exist within humanity. Maybe he’s been away from it so long he’s forgotten the extent of it.
Would the King of Curses even admit he’s lonely? Or would he be too prideful to admit such a thing?
“You're sad. Why?” He questions.
“Was just thinking about my mother. That's all.” You say. “She wanted me to get married before I…”
You’re mad at her. More mad than you’ve been at anyone in your life. Yet you wish for nothing more than her comfort in this moment. A wound exists that time won't heal. Anger is not productive in fixing it. Anger only makes it worse.
This time, you are the one to initiate the kiss. You wish for it to distract you, but it only amplifies the ache in your chest.
“If you were to lose what little fight you had left in you, then this would no longer be fun,” he says.
You grow used to the ever-present shadow that is Sukuna, talking to the space beside you as if he is there because hell, sometimes he is. He is more than a mere man. He exists on a level different from you or anyone else. Your existence at this temple feels less like confinement and more like living. 
“Will you join me?” He asks one day by the river. 
The two of you sit upon the riverbank, watching as the water swirls below you. Spring snowmelt, combined with a recent storm, has stirred up the river bottom, turning the water murky. What was meant to be a fishing trip has proved unsuccessful.
“I would be lying if I said I haven't grown used to your presence.” He says.
“Don't be getting soft on me,” you say, half joking.
The most emotion you get out of him is an amused sounding huff. 
“I want you to join me,” he says, “not in life as human, but in eternity as a curse.”
“I will,” you say. 
No thought is needed for your answer, nor is there any hesitation on your part. Sukuna simply nods. That is what love is to him. Devotion. Worship. Throwing away your humanity means nothing if humanity is so quick to reject you. 
Gifts begin appearing around the temple after that. Priceless jewelry, and expensive dresses. Hair pins and cosmetics. Seasons pass in what feels like no time at all. Before you know it, your third fall here is quickly approaching. Winter comes and goes—uncharacteristically bitter this year. Spring brings a sense of rebirth. The ground thaws slowly, and plant life is in full bloom. Animal life returns to the surrounding woods, showing signs in every trail around the temple.
A hunting trip brings you further out into the woods than you’ve traveled before. You don't realize you’re nearing a human settlement until you’ve stumbled upon it.
The village has changed drastically in the time you were gone, so much so that you almost don't recognize it. A full blown mill has sprouted up along the river. At least twice as many houses stand now. Years ago this street was little more than a dirt path. Sometime over the years it has been paved over with river stones. Children play in the streets. Men walk home with pails of fish slung over their shoulders. These strangers notice you and pause, returning to their homes quickly. 
Your house remains mostly the same. Age has not been kind to it. One corner of the roof sags, and the wood trim has grown bleached with time. The path up to the front steps is overgrown. Sitting outside, hunched over a wash bin, is your mother.
Her hair is mostly gray now. Wrinkles mark her skin, and her joints are knobby, but you would still consider her beautiful. The face of the woman she once was is still there. The clothes she wears are of rich fabrics, suggesting your family has not hurt for money. Her sturdy figure suggests they never lacked food either.
When she sees you, her eyes grow wet with tears. And it’s as if the weight of the world has lifted off your shoulders. You want to be angry at her. You want to unload years of anger upon her. You want her to feel just a fraction of the fear you've felt. But you can't bring yourself to do it. The look in her eyes tells you she’s felt all the emotions you have.
Her movements are laced with hesitation, as if she’s deciding whether or not you're real. One of her wrinkled hands takes yours. 
“I love you,” she says, “and I am so sorry.”
“I know,” you say.
She invites you in for tea, setting the table up with the nice dishware—the kind she only uses for guests. The interior of the house hasn't changed much. Your room is eerily the same, as if it hasn't been touched since the day you left. Your father’s boots, and hunting coat remain by the door, although they look as if they haven't been moved in years. Makes sense, you think, hunting is a task that grows difficult as you get older. There comes a time in every hunter’s life where they grow old, and it becomes their turn to stay home and tend the fire.
“Where's…?” You never get the chance to finish your question, the solemn look on your mother’s face is enough of an answer.
“He passed,” she says, pausing to think, “two springs ago now? Maybe three.”
Believing you would never see them again, you grieved your parents long ago.This particular grief is like an old wound to you.
“The village looks prosperous,” you comment. A bitter tone clings to your voice.
“Yes,” she says, “the past years have been kind to us. I suppose we have you to thank for that?”
She sits across from you, her eyes still wet with tears. It feels like you are holding a conversation with a stranger. Your mother regards you with a certain weariness she only reserves for strangers. Maybe it would hurt more if you had more room within you for grief.
“He never stopped looking for you, you know,” she says, setting a cup of tea in front of you. “Even after the village held a funeral for you. He never wanted to believe it. Until the day he died, he was out in the woods thinking he could bring you home.”
“I was under the impression I wasn't wanted here.” You say.
“You know that’s not true,” she says. “What happened that night was a result of fear. The elders did what they thought would preserve the safety of everyone.”
“Except for me.” You say.
Fear. Right. To them, you were simply a sacrifice. You drain the last of your tea, standing from the table. Your mother stands as if to stop you, but freezes before she can.
“Does he treat you well?” She asks.
“Yes,” you say.
“Better than any human man?”
“Yes,” you answer, although you can tell she doesn't believe it. 
“Do you love him?” She asks. “Does he love you?”
“I suppose so.” You say. “As much as he is capable of loving something.”
“But do you love him?” She asks again.
“As much as I am capable of doing so, yes.” You answer.
It is not the answer she wants, but the one that is the truth. With her hands folded in her lap, she nods solemnly.
That following night you leave your village not as a human, but as a curse. 
Enough time would pass that the story of a young sacrifice would be forgotten by its people; what would remain, is a tale of a love so infamous that it survived centuries.
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writingchalamet · 4 months ago
Text
Angels Like You IV
Angels like you I
Angels like you II
Angels like you III
AN: it’s here! Sorry for taking so long, my nephews have been staying with me this week and keep trying to look at my laptop while I write 💀
Word count: 3.5k
Warnings: violence, blood, MATT (because everyone hates Matt) trauma, breaking and entering, SMUT, heavy petting, oral (f receiving) fingering.
You’re welcome…
Chapter IV
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Matt didn’t like seeing you with Bucky one bit. The thought that you had moved on so ‘quickly’ after him sent his mind into overdrive. He was good at hinting in the shadows, the day he left the bakery beaten and broken he didn’t go to a hospital or return home like he should have, he waited. Watching in the shadows until you inevitably got in your car and drove home, where he followed, rage simmering inside him. He watched from a distance as Bucky ushered you into your house after collected his child. It was the first time he actually saw the kid, and he hated to say it but he felt a tingle inside him, not the warm fuzzy, loving feeling a father should feel when they see their baby for the first time. But one of hatred. The kid he laid his eyes on was the one thing that took you away from him.
So he bided his time. And watched. He learned your routine, your ins and outs of the house, learned how your new play thing never really left your side much. You hadn’t left the house much since the incident but he liked to spot your movements through the house, you almost worked like clockwork, around the house, doing everything for the child, he despised it, that should be him that you were running around for in there, taking care of, cooking for, god he missed your cooking. One thing he hated more though was the way he saw you and Bucky looking at each other, even through windows he could feel the tension, making him want to tear his own eyes out.
He just needed to wait for the perfect opportunity, and that came the night that Sam came and took the kid over to the neighbours house, Matt figured something must be going on, they must be leaving the house, he had a chance, a chance to do what exactly he didn’t know, but he’d figure that out soon enough. He saw your neighbours leave your house, then you and your new man head out looking all dolled up, he couldn’t stand the sight of it, he waited a while longer, waiting for all the lights to shut off next door before making his move, he travelled to the back of the house, hopping the fence, scurrying across the garden until he reached the back door, taking off his leather jacket, balling it around his fist, he smashed the panel of glass closest to the lock, reaching through the newly made hole, flicking the lock open and letting himself into your home.
He took in the scent as he stepped through the threshold. Bergamot and orange blossom tingled in his nostrils, the strong smell instantly reminding him of you. He wondered aimlessly at first, taking in the sight of your home. The warm homey touches that covered every inch of the house, it sickened him. The house was spottles, considering a toddler lived there, but then again, he had trained you well, he didn't like you to be messy, he was glad to see you still kept things tidy just how he liked. Not that he was clean. he ventured up the stairs to find a bedroom t the end of the hall with the word 'Forrest' hung on the door in Buntin. He guessed that was the name of his child, he still didn't know if it was a girl or a boy, you had kept that fact well hidden from him. He stepped towards the room, opening the door with a creek, finding an array of colourful toys, a Peter Pan mural painted on the walls and fluffy cloud lamps and light fixtures. Even the cot bed had been made pristine, this woman was conditioned he thought to himself.
He looked through the small chest of drawers under the changing table fiddling with some of the small shirts when his eye landed on one baby grow in particular, a 'mama's boy' one, it felt like another kick in the teeth to know he had a son, in some sick way to him it felt like another man to take you away from him. He wished you had never ran away, that he had never left that day so he would have been able to sort this whole problem out, there would be no Forrest, and it could just be the two of you again. No he'd have to sort out the Forrest problem another time, when the little bleeder was home.
He came out of the room and closed the door behind him. next finding your bedroom, the room smelt sweet like your perfume, the smell overwhelming him, he walked to your vanity noticing the makeup you had left out, you never wore makeup when you were with him, his mind hurt at the thought of you dressing up to go out with another man, he looked over at the bed, thinking about all the different things Bucky has probably done to you in that bed. Matt stormed out the room and back down the stairs until he found the Kitchen, deciding to wait there for your return, which apparently wouldn't be too long a wait. He heard the front door opening as well as the distinct sound of kissing, the occasional grunt and soft moans from you, He stood in the doorway of the kitchen waiting for you to notice him, only for him to realise you were to caught up to care there was an intruder in your house. He flicked the light on beside him, sparking your fright.
"Well, isn't this cosy?" he spoke smugly, head tilted, sly sile on his face, even with his hand all bandaged up and the dark circles under his eyes, he still acted as though he was God's gift to the earth. before you have a chance to explain yourself Bucky chimes in from his place behind you. arms strong and protective around your waist. "What are you doing here, Matt?" he oozed confidence when he spoke, and almost seemed unbothered. "Just come to take what's mine" Matt sneered, daring to take a step closer, Bucky tightened his hold around your waist as he felt you shiver. "Oh, yeah, and what's that exactly, because I don't think you own anything in this house..." Matt scoffed at his response, there was something wild in his eyes, you just couldn't tell what it was.
"You know, I had a nice look around, Forrest, that the name of my son? You could have picked a better name Y/n really, and leaving him with the neighbours so you can fuck some random guy? You really are a whore" You tore away from Bucky's arms leaping forwards, slapping Matt so hard across the face your hand ached, you could see you had left an indentation on his cheek, the skin flared red and raised slightly. "You don't get to say his fucking name, get out" Matt held his cheek, shocked that you would dare to speak to him that way let alone lash out at him, you had been away from him too long. He lifted his hand up and cupped your cheek in his hand, softly which shocked you, Bucky took a step forwards but soon stopped when he saw you signal him to still. You looked into Matt's eyes, noticing how dead his eyes truly looked. "Come back to me please, I love you. You can leave the kid here and we'll go" It frightened you how fast it was for his emotions to change. You took his hand of your face and let it drop by his side, shaking your head.
"I will never be with you, ever again, you need to understand that Matt, you can't keep doing this, please just leave us alone" You spoke quietly to him, hoping he would hear you out. A sad laugh left his lips , shaking his head, "I'll get you one way or another, whether I have to take you fighting or dead, but I'm not gonna lose you Y/n, I don't lose..."
“You already have” you knew you’d regret those words the second they hit your brain but you couldn’t stop your mouth from saying them. You saw the way his nostrils flared and how he gritted his teeth, you could practically hear them grinding together in his mouth, he yanked on your wrist pulling you closer to him, Bucky stepping even closer ready to pull him away, “you’ll fucking regret that, I’m gonna make you wish that little brat was never born” You closed your eyes expecting to feel pain as Matt raised his hand, but as quickly as it was raised, it was gone, for Bucky had put himself in between the two of you, pushing you away gently with one arm while attacking with the other.
The sound of bones crushing, and blood splattering rung through your ears. The image of Matt having his face repeatedly slammed against your kitchen counter both terrified and elated you. Seeing Bucky in this feral state made your heart thump uncontrollably out of your chest. You called out for him to stop but the sound was lost to the deafening sound of Matt's cries. Through the commotion of the yelling and the sound of things smashing to the ground you missed the sound of Sam entering the house through the front door shield in hand. Sam ran over attempting to tear Bucky away, Bucky's face turning to horror once he saw what he had done. He stood over Matt's body watching his face swell and weep with blood, as he screwed himself into the foetal position on the floor, coughing and spluttering all over the tiles.
Blue and red flashing lights surround the kitchen as the promise of help fills the room. "You Okay man?" Sam asks nodding at Bucky, he stayed silent, giving a sharp tilt of his head, stretching out his fingers on his virbranium hand, wiping the blood off onto his shirt. You went to his side, stroking your hand down his chest hoping to gain his attention, his eyes met yours, but they were shallow, you touched his face softly, making sure his eyes stayed on you "You're okay, thank you for protecting me" He wrapped his arms around your shoulders pulling you flush against him, burrowing his head in the crook of your neck. "It's- (coughs) cap- Captain America" Matt spluttered out, a combination of drool and blood oozing from his mouth, he seemed delirious after taking several punches to the head. "Yeah, and you're in a whole lotta trouble" Sam scoffed, turning to open the front door as the police and paramedics came up the drive.
After being checked over and giving statements to the police, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of Matt being handcuffed in the back of an ambulance, with the promise from the police that not only breaking and entering, but breaking his restraining order and continued harassment should be enough to keep him behind bars, if not only for a while, you were free.
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Yourself and Bucky were sitting on the couch in your living room, the both of you quiet, not knowing what to say to one another. You decided to make the first move, opting to face him on the sofa, sitting cross legged opposite from him. His head turned in query as to what you were doing, but soon turned to face you. "So, what a way to end a first date..." you let the words linger, searing his face for any sign of amusement. A small smile lifted to his lips as your words sunk in, his head tilting towards you. "It was a date huh?" he smirked, eyes lighting up a tad more, losing the dullness that had reached them earlier. "We went for dinner, we laughed and you kissed me, then you saved me from Matt, I'd say that's a pretty successful date, wouldn't you?" You leaned forwards, brushing hand along the vibranium limb that sat along the back of the sofa. He laughed nodding. "So you had a good time up until the end?" he queries. "I had a great time, the entirety of it, no one has ever stood up for me the way you do, I'm really grateful...I just wish we hadn't been interrupted" You could feel yourself drawing closer to him, the magnetic buzz between you was back.
Bucky inched closer to you, his face mere centimetres from yours, his breath was warm across your face, he smelt like his cologne and a tint of dried blood, it was enough to send you into a frenzy. "What would you have wanted to happen if we were uninterrupted?" He bumped his nose against yours, tilting your head to the side, gliding his nose over neck, smelling your sweet scent, brushing his lips against your neck with feather light touches. "I'd let you do anything you wanted to me, you can take whatever you want" your breath was nothing more than a gasp as he kissed his way up your neck. "Careful, doll, I might actually do it" his breath fanned your face as he kissed around your cheeks, and jaw. He felt the way your fingers dug into the metal of his arm. "I want you to Bucky" in one swift movement he hauled you into his lap, his arms encasing your body, you squeaked as he lifted you, laying your hands on his broad shoulders feeling the muscles under his shirt. Smoothing over the soft fabric. His own hands wandered, feeling over the silk of your dress, slipping the fabric and bunching it up at your thighs, you gasped at the cool feeling of the metal hand digging into your flesh.
His lips delved in first, yours meeting in the meeting, melting together, melting together in a frantic fashion. His tongue brushed along your bottom lip, asking for access, you opened your mouth wider gladly receiving him. His tongue massaged its way into your mouth gliding along your own tongue. You gripped his shoulders a little tighter, his flesh hand gliding up the front of your body, in between the valley of your breast, settling around your neck. He kissed you as if he had kissed you a thousand times before. It felt natural. You started moving your hips against his, slowly and unintentional at first, but at first sound of your pleasure, Bucky soon started guiding your hips, working you back and forth loving the sounds of the soft mewls coming from your mouth. “Good girl, lie back for me”  
You settled back onto the sofa, leaning your head on the arm rest, Bucky settled between your legs, continuing to kiss and nip at your neck while you got yourself comfortable, you giggled as his stubble tickled the sensitive skin between your neck and collar bone, throwing your head back against the arm rest. “God, I want to hear that sound for the rest of my life” he muttered as he kissed his way down your chest, his hands massaging their way over your body, squeezing at your breasts, you moaned his name quietly urging him not to stop. “I could listen to that too” His vibranium hand pushed up the silk skirt of your dress until it was fully bunched up around your waist, exposing the most precious lacey white underwear he’s ever laid his eyes on. He nuzzled his head into your sternum holding onto your waist tightly, kissing your stomach, he noticed small scars the further he pushed your dress up, some obvious burn marks where Matt must have put out cigarettes on you, others small, jagged like the one on your face. He noticed the slight hesitation in your eyes as he kissed over your stomach. “You’re beautiful you know that” you nodded, eyes fluttering as he headed further down south.
“Tell me to stop at any time, I just want you to feel good okay” your eyes met and you watched as he settled between your thighs, placing each of them over his shoulders, you swore you had died and gone to heaven, the sight of the beautiful blue eyed man kissing the soft skin of your inner thighs, swearing only to make you feel good. His arms wrapped around your waist once more pulling you closer to him, the force making you let out a straggled moan. Bucky pressed a kiss to your covered pussy, a shiver running up your spine. He continued to kiss at the bundle of nerves through the lace of your underwear, your back arching upwards in pleasure.
Moving his vibranium hand down he slipped the material to the side, pressing a cool metal digit onto your clit, swirling in circles, you gasped, hips jutting forwards, his flesh hand around your waist, pinning you back down holding you in place. You watched him as he stared at your pussy, glistening with arousal for him, dripping down onto the sofa, he looked like a hunter waiting to dine on his prey, you only opened your legs a little further for him, encouraging him in. Not a second later he dived in.
Lips wrapping around your clit, sucking and kissing it with the perfect pressure, you weee sure your head would explode, he swirled his tongue around the pulsing nerve enjoying the whimpers and moans that escaped your lungs, he looked up while continuing his assault, watching the way your chest would rise and fall, how your head had fallen back on the arm rest, exposing your neck, breathing so heavily the vein stuck out on your neck. He reached up with his flesh hand, palming your left breast, your back arching into his touch.
He licked at the entrance of your cunt, sucking up some of the wetness that had dripped out, “Bucky” you moaned his name for the first time sending vibrations through his entire body, straight to his cock. “You like that doll?” You nodded letting out another staggered moan as he fucked his tongue into your hole. He could feel your walls clenching around his tongue, he withdrew the muscle only for you to sit up in protest, you whine at the loss of contact but soon that turns into a whine of pleasure when one of metal digits enters you instead. Your eyebrows furrow in pleasure, sitting up on your elbows so you could watch him better.
You saw the smirk on his face while he slowly entered you, seemingly rubbing all the right spots, the cool of the metal mixed with the searing heat of your walls creating a beautiful blend of warmth. “That feel better babydoll?” Your brain couldn’t comprehend words at this current moment, your back arching and head falling back onto the sofa arm once more. “I’ll take that as a yes” he spoke smugly, working his finger in and out, applying the perfect amount of pressure, lips reattaching to your clit.
You could feel a heat raising inside you, one that you had never reached with another person before. You tangled your fingers through his hair, tugging him impossibly closer to your heat. You were panting, hips rutting into his face, you were sure you’d never felt this level of pleasure in your life. He soon found your g spot, softly nudging it over and over again, earning himself a lewd moan of his name, he could feel your walls clenching and spasms around his finger, he knew you were close, looking up loving the sight before his eyes. Sweat kissing your skin, mouth ajar with gasps and moans, chest raised to the sky. You were right there. “Be a good girl y/n, I want you to cum”
He spoke into your cunt and you fell apart. A scream making its way from your lungs while you writhed. He sucked and lapped up all the juices as they dripped from your pussy, sucking you dry, your body shaked and you felt yourself going limp. Bucky lifted himself up settling above you, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips, you involuntarily moaned at the taste of your essence on his lips. He pulled back smiling like a Cheshire Cat. “Did you enjoy that” with your legs still trembling beside his hips and a blissed out look on your face, it should have been telling enough. “You have no idea, no one has ever made me feel that good before, you sergeant James Barnes may have just ruined masterbating for me for life” you sighed, throwing your head back dramatically. He laughed , leaning forwards to press another kiss to your lips. He settled down after a moment, laying his head on your chest, listening to the thrum of your heart, while your fingers combed through his hair. You can’t remember a time that you felt so at home and relaxed while not with your son.
The two of you laid there most the night, talking away, sharing the odd kiss, and eventually falling asleep in the same position, only waking when the first sight of sunlight streamed through the living room curtains. The sight of the man still sleeping soundly, on your chest with his arms wrapped snuggly around you, you felt complete and safe, for the first time in a long time.
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me-and-your-husband · 2 years ago
Text
if you lie down with me || e.w.
summary: there's one thing you and ellie don't have in common: immunity.
warnings: not beta read, swearing, blood, canon typical violence, death by suicide, ellie has concerning ideations, smut, oral, scissoring, multiple orgasms, angst!, crying during sex, arguing, probably more
word count: 6k
a/n: i know, i'm sorry for using this photo 😭 actually i'm sorry i wrote this entire thing
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The end never feels like the end, does it? When you wake in the morning, the air is as fresh as the day before and the sun streams through the window at the same angle. You smile fondly at the incessant banging on your door, and at her urging tone when she tells you to get out of bed. “We have patrol,” she says, like she's said a thousand times before. What makes today any different? 
The gravel road feels the same as it crunches under your boots as she leads you to the gate. Her auburn hair shines the same in the light, the same way you've admired since you were fourteen and she had just settled in Jackson. 
You were helping out in the library, arms full of books stacked above your head. You struggled trying to keep them up with one hand and shelve them with the other. She noticed you from the corner, where she sat with a pile of beaten comics and a Walkman. “Need some help?” she asked, standing up from her spot on the ground. She took half the books from your pile and put them wherever you told her. After, when you asked her about the comics she was reading, her face lit up and she knew that you'd be a part of her life until death. Finally, someone was interested in knowing her. 
The friendly faces of the watchmen at the gate were the same as they were yesterday, a week ago, a month ago, a year. They waved at you and wished you good luck as you mounted your horse and rode alongside Ellie onto the trail. The way she shoved her pistol in her back pocket and slung her bow over her shoulders was always the same. The way your horse galloped evenly alongside Shimmer did not deviate from the norm. 
When she spoke up, her words were usual. 
“Look, babe. A hummingbird,” she said with glee, pointing to the frosty trees.
You smiled at her excitement. “Poor thing, it's so cold out.”
“Don't you remember?”
“Of course I remember, El,” you laughed. “How could I forget?”
How could you forget? It was a humid summer afternoon, shortly after Ellie had turned sixteen. You had snuck out of Jackson to explore a creek you had found the day prior on group patrol. You so badly wanted to show Ellie, to share every part of you with her. You didn't know what to call it, but you assumed it was just because you were really good friends. 
The soft rush of the water and the gentle breeze across your skin contrasted to the beating sun plastering your hair to your skin. You and Ellie sat with your backs against a wide oak, watching minnows skip through the water. 
“Do you think animals have feelings? Like us?” Ellie thought out loud. 
You hummed, “I do, but not as complicated as ours.” 
She nodded in agreement before her eyes drifted to the source of a new sound, a gentle humming. She saw the gentle bird sucking nectar from a flower, tapping your shoulder gently and pointing. 
“Look, a hummingbird,” she whispered.
“Woah!” You beamed, “I’ve only seen them in those nature books in the library. That's so cool. Did you know the sound actually comes from its wings?” 
As you watched the hummingbird, she watched you. “It’s really pretty.”
You agreed. She said your name, but looked away from you. 
“Yeah?”
“I think I like girls.”
You let the words settle in the air. 
“I think I do too.”
It was the first indication that something else could happen between you and her, something less platonic than you would've thought. After that, neither of you said anything about it, confident in the fact that something more could exist in the spaces between. 
It was the same confidence you had today as you followed her through the Wyoming woods, putting your trust in her. You took the same path almost every time you went out on patrol, knowing your way around, knowing the landmarks of the area. You knew you were getting close to the danger zone when you saw your favourite tree, the one you and Ellie would lean against by the creek, telling each other secrets into the night, crossing your heart to never tell another soul. Each of you knew that the other’s soul was the only one that mattered, anyways. 
It was just over a year ago that you’d both carved your initials into that tree, reminders of that early morning on patrol bringing a smile to your face. 
You had stopped for a moment to take a short break against the tree, letting your horses get some rest. Ellie leaned up against the tree as you pet Shimmer. The sun shone despite the snow and the brisk weather, illuminating your features gently. She admired the curve of your lips and the shape of your eyes, imagining her fingers tracing your skin under lamplight late at night. You looked up at her when your name tumbled from her lips. 
“Yeah?” You said, continuing to pet Shimmer.
“I like you.”
The air stilled and your hand faltered, breath hitching. But what if she didn’t mean it like that? 
You forced a laugh. “Well, I’d hope so. We’ve been friends for how long?”
“No, I…” she struggled for the right words. “I want to be more than friends. I like you. Like…romantically. And stuff.”
She played with her fingers, shuffling her feet back and forth in the snow, not meeting your gaze. 
“Ellie, look at me. Please,” you whispered. She raised her eyes to yours, but still kept her head low, not bringing it up until your hand cupped her jaw. She moved her hand on top of yours, trapping it there, wondering if it was just a dream. 
She closed her eyes tight when she saw you leaning in, praying that you weren't messing with her. When she finally felt your lips ghosting across hers, she leaned into you. Your touch was fire on her skin, leaving a red blush in its wake. She pressed your mouth to hers hungrily, never wanting this to end. 
“I like you too,” you mumbled against her lips. 
When you finally broke for air, chests heaving, you were both beaming. Ellie nervously reached into her pocket for her pocket knife, flicking it open. She held the blade against the bark of the tree, grabbing our hand and putting it on the hilt, sliding hers over top of it. 
She guided your hand as you carved your initials into the tree, trapping them inside of a heart. It was cliche, but it meant everything to you. 
It was the same tree that, a year later, you and Ellie passed on almost every patrol. The same tree that symbolized your everlasting love for each other. The same tree that stood since the dawn of your and Ellie’s time. 
You rode casually in comfortable silence until you got to the watchtower, negative memories plaguing both you and Ellie. The floorboards still held the echoes of your voices yelling, still soaked in your tears. 
Four months ago, when the rabbits were still brown and the path was clear of snow, you'd come through this watchtower to find two clickers. It caught you both off guard, as Jesse and Dina had just cleared it as safe the day before. 
Ellie, always being the hero, snuck up behind one, taking it out easily, and lunged at the other. The second one, however, pinned her to the ground, and she held it by the neck, its arms clawing hers. 
The sound of your pistol rang out as the body slumped on top of Ellie. She rolled it off and got up from the ground, chest heaving. 
“Well,” she said, brushing dirt from her jeans, “that was pretty close. Thanks.”
When you didn't respond, she turned to see you standing with your pistol still in both hands, brows furrowed as you watched the dead body of the clicker intently. She called your name. 
“What is it?”
You shook your head. 
“Come on, tell me-”
“Every fucking time, Ellie,” you said, shoving your pistol back in your pocket and turning away from her. “Why do you have to run head-first into danger like that every time?”
She didn't say anything, gaze on your back as she watched you turn back around. 
“What would I have done if you had gotten bit?” You said, voice a little watery. “Say something.”
She stumbled over her words, not knowing what to say. “I don't try to, you know, it’s just…” she sighed.
“You know, Ellie, sometimes I think that I value your life more than you do.”
The words hung in the air between you two, both of you knowing that you were right. Knowing that she could've been more, done so much more, saved so many people. But she was stripped of that. So what kind of meaning could she give to her life? What did she really have to live for? Before Joel, she never really had someone she knew would care if she died. Now she had you, and she didn't know how her recklessness would affect you. Now she did. 
“Okay, you're right. I’m too reckless. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll start thinking before I react,” she said, voice softening. 
You huffed, “I just worry about you, El. I don't know what I’d do without you.”
She hugged you tight, letting you nuzzle into her chest. She knew how you felt. Before you, she was hopeless. She didn't see a point in doing anything if her life couldn't be used by someone. What was it all for? Everything she'd struggled through? All she'd suffered? 
Now she knew that she was forced to experience it all so that she could end up with you. And she’d do it a million times over. 
She breathed your name. “I need to tell you something.”
You pulled away from her, “Well that's one way to start a conversation.”
She laughed nervously. “No, it's nothing bad. It's just…it might be hard to swallow.”
She gestured at an old, ratty chair. You sat and watched her intently. 
She took a deep breath, drawing it into her lungs and releasing it. “Do you remember why I got my tattoo?”
“Yeah, to cover up that chemical burn.”
“I lied,” she said. “That's not why I got the tattoo.”
You furrowed your brows in confusion, silently begging her to go on. 
“When I was fourteen, I was bitten. On my arm.”
You sat back in your chair. 
“I waited and waited for my mind to go, for my body to go, for anything to happen, but it never did. So…I’m immune, or whatever,” she said, searching for a reaction. 
Seconds of silence passed. It was shattered with a laugh.
“That's a good one, Ellie. Real funny.”
“It’s true! Ask Joel. Tommy. Maria. They're the only ones who know…”
“And you expect me to believe this?”
“Just trust me. Please. It's all I ask, is for you to trust my word. Why would I lie to you about this?” She pleaded. 
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“Because Joel thinks it's dangerous for people to know. That's how we met, you know. He was hired to get me to the fireflies…they were going to make a cure,” she said, voice trailing off towards the end. 
“It didn't work, I take it?”
She shook her head. “Joel says they didn't need me.” Joel says. 
“Okay,” you said, making her look up at you. “I believe you. But that doesn't mean I’m fine with you running head-first into infected like that again. Just because you're…immune, doesn't mean you can't be torn apart. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said, crouching in front of you and putting her hands on your thighs. “God, I love you.”
You cleared out the watchtower and made your way back to the path. This part was one of your favourites, winding through the mountains. Your horses trotted casually beside each other. 
“Okay, okay, here's one: What do you say when a chef dies?” 
“Oh god, I don't know?”
“He pasta-way!” She said, giggling before she could even say the answer. 
Her laughter was contagious, sending it bubbling through your chest. “That's so bad that it's good.”
“Come on, just admit that I’m a top-notch comedian. If the world wouldn't have ended, I’d’ve been up there with Dave Chapelle.”
“Who’s Dave Chapelle?”
“I don't actually know. Some old ass comedian Joel told me about.”
You both laughed, smiles painted across your faces. However, the giggles subsided as you felt your horse start to shake slightly. 
“Woah, Shimmer, you okay girl?” Ellie said, patting her side. 
“Beau’s shaking too.”
“Maybe they’ve got…I don't know, a cold or something? Can horses even get colds?” You shrugged. “Maybe we should let them rest for a bit.”
You agreed, dismounting your horse and planting your feet on the ground. The shaking underneath you didn’t stop. You looked at Ellie, who looked at the mountain behind you. She yelled your name as you looked behind you.
A loud, grating noise sounded as you watched the earth of the mountain loosen from its side, rocks and boulders tumbling from it, falling in your direction. 
You hurriedly mounted your horses again, kicking their ribs to get them to go. You rode as fast as you could, attempting to beat the oncoming landslide. You'd never seen one before, only heard stories and read of them in books. You were about three quarters of the way through the mountain range when the land detached from the mountain and began to slide. 
“Go, go, go!” You yelled, Ellie a few feet ahead of you as her horse was younger than Beau. She glanced behind her every few seconds to make sure you were still there. 
The rocks falling created a settlement of dust around you, making it increasingly harder to breathe. You finally saw the green clearing outside of the mountain range. Almost there. 
The grating noise died, and you peered behind you to see the path completely covered in rubble. A few boulders still tumbled from the mountain, or whatever was left of it. 
“Watch out!” Ellie yelled. You looked to your right, seeing a massive boulder rolling down the mountain, coming right for you. 
You acted before you could think, much like Ellie, and propelled yourself forward off your horse as the boulder hit Beau and rolled atop of his body. You landed on the ground near Ellie, propping yourself up on your elbows to gawk at the sight. 
“Oh my god,” you whispered, running to Beau. His body was mangled, bones sticking out of the skin and blood painting the grass. You felt like vomiting. 
Ellie dismounted her horse, still shaking from the adrenaline, and put her hands on your shoulders, attempting to get you standing. 
“Wait,” you said, leaning back down, planting a teary kiss on Beau's muzzle. 
You stood, holding her tight. “Let's never come through here again.”
“Don't think we can, sweetheart,” she said, looking back at the obstruction. “Come on, we've gotta find a new way back home.”
She was about to help you mount Shimmer when you both froze in your tracks. A low, husky groan rung out through the air, scaring Shimmer. She ran into the clearing out of fright. 
“Shit,” Ellie breathed. 
“We’ll find her later. Come on, we have to go. It's either a bloater or a shambler, and I don't really want to stick around to find out.” 
You turned to leave when the ground shook again. You turned around, looking back at the mountain. It wasn't the mountain shaking this time. Spewing through the hole the landslide left like spiders were hundreds—if not thousands—of infected. Clickers, runners, stalkers, bloaters, shamblers. Everything. 
There was no way you were making it out of this unless you legged it now. 
In unison, you and Ellie started sprinting to your last checkpoint— the old cabin. You ran faster than you ever had before, the sounds of hungry infected hot on your heels. You couldn't feel your legs, the burning in your flesh too intense. When the cabin finally came into view, you couldn't even allow yourself a breath of relief. You and Ellie had your guns out, shooting behind you as you ran, picking off as many infected as you could. When you were close enough to the cabin, the idea hit you. You knew that the creaky boards of the cabin wouldn't hold that many infected off. You knew what you had to do. 
“Ellie, cover me!” You yelled as you slung your backpack off your shoulder and grabbed what you'd need. You grabbed an old bottle of whiskey you and Ellie had found at the watchtower and a rag. Stuffing the rag in the bottle, you lit it with your lighter. 
In the ten seconds it took you to do this, the infected crept closer and closer to you. Ellie tried picking off as many as she could, keeping them away from you. Until her magazine ran out. 
You threw the molotov in front of the hoard of infected. It exploded, creating a wall of fire between you and your death. 
Until a single clicker went at you from the side. The light of the fire flickered in your irises and cast an orange glow across your face, and you didn't even hear it creeping up amidst the roar of the flames. You didn't even hear Ellie yell your name. 
It tackled you to the ground before you could even turn your head all the way, talons scratching your arms and legs, sinking into your stomach. Its jaw was inches away from your neck, begging to gnaw on your jugular. In the struggle for your life, you couldn't even tell where you were and weren't hurt, what was bleeding and what wasn't. 
Blood gushed into your hair and eyes as you watched Ellie slice its head clean off with her pocketknife. The same one you'd carved your initials into that old oak with. 
Something inside of you rattled knowing that something could be used so innocently and yet so dangerously. 
Ellie picked you up from the ground and helped you limp into the cabin, reeds of grass tickling your wounds. When you entered, you stood in the centre of the room as she barricaded the entrances. 
“There,” she said, returning to you. You were both coming off adrenaline, suddenly feeling the ache in your bones to an indescribable extent. 
You put your hands on your knees and leaned on them, heaving a little. “Ellie. We were so close.”
She just nodded in understanding. Her eyes survey you from top to bottom. You had a scratch across your cheek, a few minor lacerations across your arms and chest, and a few on your legs. She couldn't see any bites. 
You brought your right arm up to run it shakily through your hair. That's when she saw it, brutal and bloody, painted into your skin like a brand. One that would decide your fate. Except that it had already been decided. 
The sight of the bite on your forearm turned her stomach. She blinked over and over again, hoping that she was seeing wrong. Maybe she was still coming off of adrenaline. “Your arm…” she breathed. 
“What?” You asked, confused. You looked over your left, then your right, and…oh. “Oh.”
The silence was deafening. It wasn't like you'd been badly injured, still with a sliver of possibility for recovery. No, this bite sealed your fate. 
In the next day, you were going to become something Ellie had to detest. Something she had to kill. 
You felt the bile rise in your throat just in time to grab a decayed flower pot. You choked out everything in your stomach and more.
Ellie grabbed her stomach as she felt her body start to shake, that feeling creeping up her spine again. Her breath felt like it was being siphoned out of her. She needed air, but her lungs would not take any in. She hyperventilated as she threw herself back against the wall, legs giving out. 
A sweat broke out across her body, knowing that she's losing you tonight. 
Her mind shoved memories into her vision that she swore to never bring up again. 
“There're a million ways we should've died before today. And a million ways we can die before tomorrow. But we fight…for every second we get to spend with each other. Whether it's two minutes…or two days. We don't give that up.”
She remembers the small, impossible slice of hope in Riley’s eyes, one that she knew was futile. Riley was her first love. She thought they were both going to die. She felt…horrible. You would be her last love, though she knew only you were fated to die. She knew she would die too. 
Your voice calling her name broke her out of her fit. One look at you wiping your face and shaking was enough to make her want to break something, anything. 
“Ellie,” you called. She stood and began pacing, running her hands over her face. “Ellie, stop it.”
“There's gotta be…there has to…we need…” she babbled, still pacing. An idea clicked, “give me your arm.”
You held out your shaking arm to your lover, expecting her to inspect the area. Instead, she took out her pocket knife and pressed the blade into her hand without any hesitation. 
“Ellie! What the fuck?!” You said, trying to stop her hand from bleeding. 
“Give me your arm,” she said firmly, a major contrast from before. When you hesitated, her hard gaze met yours. Her eyes softened when she saw the fear in your eyes. “Please,” she whispered. 
You gave her your arm and let her rub her blood into the bite. 
She took your arm and rubbed the blood into the bite knowing it wouldn’t work. 
It wouldn't work on you. 
She knew that. 
She tried anyway.
As she massaged the blood as deep into the wound as she could get, all she could think about was that she would've been able to save you if they made the cure. Her life would've had meaning, so much meaning. She would've been able to cure you from this. But she was helpless, cursed to watch you suffer. 
“Ellie,” you said, putting your hand atop hers to get her to stop and look at you. She could see in your eyes that you just needed to be close to her in that moment. She needed it too, needed to be impossibly closer as to grip into you forever. 
She buried her head into your neck and you did the same, holding your breath. For if you breathed, time would pass. If time passed, you'd be gone. 
You don't know how long you held each other like that, but it was long enough that your legs nearly collapsed with exhaustion. You were the first to speak. 
“I need you to promise me something,” you whispered. 
Ellie knew what you were going to say before the words left your mouth. 
“No-” she began pulling away from you, but you squeezed her tighter. 
“When it starts to happen…when I can feel it, I’m going to take my gun-”
“Stop it-”
“-and I’m going to go outside. You’ll know it's over-”
“-Stop-”
“-when you hear it. Just promise me you won't look.”
“Stop, please,” she begs, tears brimming in her eyes again. She takes a step back from you and turns around. 
“Promise me.”
The words get caught in her throat. Her lip trembles. “Okay.”
Outside, rain starts to fall softly, tapping against the rotting wood of the cabin. 
She breaks the new silence. “I should've been there. I should've taken my rifle out, anything-”
“El, it's not your fault. Look at me,” you say. She looks at you over her shoulder. You nearly crumble at her red eyes and wet cheeks. “Never blame yourself. You hear me?”
She just squeezes her eyes shut, willing for this to all go away. 
You walk to her, putting your hands on her shoulders and leaning your forehead against her back. You tried not to look at the bite. 
“Ellie.”
“Yeah.”
“Will you give me one last good night?”
The soft pattering of the rain against the wood, trickling off the roof and into the ground. 
“Please?”
She says nothing, instead turning around and gently capturing your lips in a kiss. Your bloodied hands find her wet cheeks, noting that the tears haven't stopped. 
Ellie wanted to give you everything you wanted and more, and she had sworn she would from the moment she met you. If this was the last thing you ever asked from her, she would give it to you. 
But it was so unbelievably hard knowing that this time would be your last. 
She pushed you back against the wall, nearly devouring you. The salty mix of your tears and hers slipped into the kiss, but you didn't care. She moved her hand down to cup you where you wanted her.
You bucked your hips into the friction, already needing her. You began to undo your belt, but Ellie’s hand on your wrist stopped you. 
“Are you sure this is what you want?” She said, voice gravelly. 
“Yes, El,” you said. “I don't know where I’ll be tomorrow, or…what I’ll be,” she let out a shaky breath, “but I know I want to be with you right now.”
She sniffled and nodded, getting on her knees to take your belt off. She threw it to the side, unbuttoning your jeans, sliding them down along with your panties. You opened your legs wider for her.
She ran two fingers through your slit before sinking one into your hole, tongue giving kitten licks to your folds. 
You could tell that she wasn't going to be as vocal as usual. 
You couldn't really blame her. 
You whimpered as she added another finger, pumping them in and out of you, filling the air with obscene sounds. She lapped at your cunt, trying her hardest to give you what you want. 
“Ellie, don't stop,” you moaned, whimpering when she used her other arm to hold your hips down against the wall. “Almost there.”
You could feel the coil tightening inside if you quickly, your climax coming in record time. You thought for a moment that it was because of how sensitive you were in this moment. 
You moaned wantonly and grabbed her hair as you came, her tongue working on your clit and her fingers scissoring you open. 
You expected her to stop, but she kept going. In fact, she added a third finger. 
You heard her moan into your pussy, looking down to find her grinding into the floor, a wet spot forming on her jeans. She was so messy, your juices coating her face, red-rimmed eyes and messy hair, rutting into nothing and moaning into your cunt. 
When the fabric of her jeans caught her clit just right, she took her mouth of your pussy, replacing it with her thumb instead, and leaned her forehead against your stomach. You came with her from the sensitivity, both of your moans filling the air, pleading for more. 
When she laid you down on a thin blanket from her backpack and undressed both of you, you noted the scared look in her eyes. The way she looked at you, drinking you in, knowing this would be your last time together. Some part of you wished that neither of you knew about the bite, that you didn't have to treat this so differently. That you could enjoy it. Enjoy your last moments together.
She threw her leg over yours, kissing you messily, yet softly, as she ground into you, folds slotting against each other. You both moaned each time your clits touched. 
As she grew closer to her climax, she buried her face into your neck. You tried to ignore the feeling of her tears trickling down and pooling at your nape. 
You came together. You moaned, but she cried out, more guttural than you'd ever heard from her. 
“I love you, I love you, I love you—!” she cried into your neck as she came. 
When you slowed down, she held you like that without words. 
“I love you too, Ellie,” you whispered, just loud enough for her to hear over the rain. 
You held each other as the sun set, through the night, and through the rain. 
The golden rays of the sun shone through the cracks in the walls and shudders, dancing across her bare body pressed into your side. Hours ago, her body had stopped shaking and her tears stopped spilling onto your chest, your hands running patterns across her skin lulling her into an exhausted sleep. 
Your eyes had never closed, however. You knew you wanted to be awake to feel it happening, to know when you were losing control over your body. For Ellie’s sake. 
The rain had stopped and the clouds were cleared. Birds sang outside and all the animals went about their day. You thought it strange that the world would continue on without you, that people will age and new ones will be born, that people will die and people will forget about you in time. Your impermanence had never struck you as hard as it did now. 
You felt the twitching in your feet first, unnoticeable at first, but is it crawled up your limbs, you knew it was happening. It happened over three or four hours, and once you felt your neck jerk the first time, you knew. 
Your blood didn't feel like your own anymore, like someone exsanguinated it and replaced it with jelly, slowing you down. Your vision wasn't gone, but you couldn't focus it on anything. It constantly sounded like you were underwater, drowning, gasping for air to no avail. 
Your eyes hardly left the woman in your arms, clinging to you even in sleep. You know she'd curse herself for falling asleep, but you were thankful for it. You were thankful that you could press a tearful kiss to her forehead before gently escaping her grasp, muffling your sobs behind your hand. You threw your shirt and jeans on quietly, dizzy, slipping your shoes on. Your world spun, your lungs burned, your head throbbed. 
You picked up your pistol, watching Ellie stir slightly in her sleep, creamy skin illuminated in the sun, her freckled face creased slightly with worry, even in sleep. You put the gun in your pocket. 
You tried, as silently as you could, to move the barricade from the door. You were thankful that she was a heavy sleeper. 
You were thankful that you didn't have to see the despair in her eyes when you said a forceful goodbye, thankful that you didn't have to convince her to let you go, thankful that your last memory of her was this, thankful that her last memory of you was bliss. 
Through your sobs, you squeezed through the door and shut it behind you, leaning your head against it, willing for this all to be a nightmare. It wasn't, because you started to feel something else take over your will. 
Before you could lose it completely, you forced yourself into a dense brush of greenery, somewhere you hoped she wouldn't look. 
You panted, sweating, trembling, as you took the pistol out of your pocket. It shook with your hand as you held it to your temple, bright eyes taking in all of the world that you could before it was gone. 
You squeezed them tightly, willing yourself to stop shaking. You conjured the image of your lover in your mind, her auburn hair, milky skin, pretty green eyes, and those familiar freckles. How could you ever forget her?
You took a breath in, and breathed out: “I love you.”
Ellie sat up in terror when she heard the sound of a single gunshot ring through the air, seeping in through the cracks of the window and underneath the door. It took her a moment to process what it was, reaching for her pistol next to her discarded clothes. When her fingertips brushed the gun, it settled in. She craned her head to look beside her, half expecting you to still be asleep. 
When she remembered what the sound of the gunshot meant, what you had made her promise, her lungs collapsed and she couldn't take any air in. Tears spilled from her eyes as she heaved, clawing at her chest for any relief. It didn't come. 
She knew it never would.
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When Joel got word that you and Ellie still hadn't returned from patrol, he worried that you'd gotten stuck in the landslide. He pleaded with Tommy and Jesse to go out with him to search, knowing he wouldn't be at peace without knowing what happened. 
When the two agreed, they set off on horses to clear all of the checkpoints. It took an extra day to get around the mountain range that was blocked off by rubble. 
When they only had one more checkpoint to clear, Joel got increasingly worried. If you weren't here, where were you?
When the three men got to the cabin, they held their breath as they dismounted their horses. Joel tried pushing the door open, but the barricade stopped him. It took the three of them to open the door, pushing the barricade out of the way. 
The open door shed light on the figure against the back wall covered in a thin blanket, trembling. Joel let out the breath he was holding in when he saw Ellie. She was clutching your backpack to her chest, trying to keep any remaining part of you alive, hers. 
She had hardly noticed Joel pick her up and carry her to his horse, wrapping the blanket tighter around her. She squeezed her eyes shut, not ready to see the world without you in it. 
“Ellie,” Joel’s gruff voice intruded her thoughts, “where is she?”
Ellie’s words failed her. All she could do was point to her forearm, to the bite that only Joel and Tommy knew hid underneath the tattoo. 
She doesn't remember what happened after that. 
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It was warmer now, the flowers blossoming and the green coming back to Jackson’s landscape. Ellie sat facing your headstone, wishing you could've seen it. Wishing she could've shown it to you. 
“It’s summer now,” she began. “We started planting these new flowers in your garden…Joel thinks you would've liked them. I think so too. They're really colourful…you know.”
She hesitated.
“Sometimes I wonder if you can hear me. Or if I’m just talking to myself like a crazy person. Joel says it's good for me. I don't know if I believe him.”
She played with her hands, tracing her tattoo. 
“I wish you were still here,” she whispered. Her eyes drifted over all the flowers left by your grave from all the people who loved you. 
Her eyes filled with tears as she watched a pretty red hummingbird land on your grave, searching for pollen in the flowers.
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ellie taglist:
@chrry1ovr @milly-louise @dankpunks @starhrtz @pedrobaby @urlocalgingersnap @wrendermedone @kissyslut @felsweb
permanent taglist:
@winters-fairy @idkwhattonamethisblogs
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exhaslo · 1 year ago
Text
Puzzle Pieces Ch.4
(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3
Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex
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It was quiet. Aside from the wind hitting your window, there was not a single sound echoing the halls. It seemed as if all of your neighbors had decided to go out shopping for the upcoming holiday. You on the other hand, were enjoying your day off. You were enjoying this rare, peaceful day.
You were snuggled in a large blanket on your couch as you worked on a puzzle. They were one of your favorite pass times and a good way to calm you down. Why did you need to calm down? Well, Miguel had asked you out for a lunch date today.
"I need to get dressed." You whispered for the tenth time.
Glancing at the clock, you tried to take deep breathes again. Putting another puzzle piece in place, you stopped to finally get dressed. You glanced down at the puzzle once more, feeling as if you were staring in a mirror.
You wondered, far too many times, what your life would have been like if you never dated Eddie. You felt like you lost a lot of yourself during that time. Picking up those pieces was hard and you weren't sure where to start. Especially now.
Gripping your sleeves, you hung your shoulders as you tried to hide the state of yourself. It was hard for you to acknowledge your beauty. Every time Miguel complimented you, you didn't have words for him. A thank you felt too obscure for you.
"Okay, you can do this," You whispered to yourself.
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Miguel was standing in front of your shammy building. He scrunched his nose up at the smell, the noise and worst of all, the filth of this place. How could someone as pure and innocent as you live in such a dirty, tainted place.
Not like he has any right.
Checking his phone, Miguel wanted to make sure that you were not skipping out on him. Not like you could. Hearing the loud creek of your main apartment building door, Miguel glanced up. There you were, all covered up as usual.
"S-Sorry, I-I hope...you weren't waiting too...too long." You stuttered, approaching the stern man.
"No," Miguel said simply, glancing at your clothing.
He kept a dull gaze as you entered his car. Your clothes were not up to par with his standards. They were old, raggy and seemed like they would tear easily. Sitting beside you, Miguel paid attention to your behavior. You kept tugging and nitpicking your sleeves.
"You don't need to be nervous," Miguel told you, watching you flinch, "I won't bite."
"S-Sorry, this...this is my first, um, date since..." You paused, recalling your horrible ex. Miguel swore he saw your eyes water,
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want too."
"I-It's fine!" You gasped, hiding your face with your sleeve again, "I was, um...in a bad relationship before...S-So...S-Sorry for being nervous..." You whispered.
Miguel had an idea. He had Lyla dig up as much research on you as she could. He wanted to know who you were and what you did for a living. To his surprise, there wasn't much on you after you dropped out of college. It made him curious about what happened to you during your past relationship.
After all, Miguel didn't like it when his belongings were broken. If you were going to be his, then he wanted to make sure you were okay with him. Miguel wanted to make sure nothing harms you.
"Why don't we lighten the mood. Tell me about yourself."
You glanced at Miguel, caught off guard by the suggestion. With a smile, you gladly started to talk to him. Hoping that you weren't rabbling too much. You wanted this to be a good relationship. You wanted Miguel to know what you liked and didn't like.
Miguel kept eye contact with you as you spoke. He let you rabble on and on, enjoying the sound of your sweet voice. He almost cracked a smile as you started to get excited, talking about little things. Shit that Miguel would never even think about had you gushing in a frenzy.
This was new.
Miguel liked this.
It felt like he could listen to you for hours. Watching you get out of breathe, Miguel resisted a chuckle as he offered you a water from a hidden mini fridge. Your face lit up as you looked at the hidden fridge. You were adorable. Miguel almost felt bad for thinking about last night as he pumped his dick in his hand.
"T-Thank you," You cooed, refreshing yourself, "Um...Sorry if I...talked too much...W-What about you?" You asked.
Miguel decided to play a game, "Hm, tell me, what do you think you know about me?" He asked.
Let's see if you answered like all of the other sluts who tried to bed him. Miguel wanted to see if you were secretly a gold digger, just to have a reason to stop having these feelings for you. It felt wrong, but Miguel wanted to stop this before it got out of hand. All he wanted was to fuck you, but instantly he knew that this was not going to be the case.
"Um, w-well, y-you're uh, handsome," You stuttered, cheeks growing redder as you spoke, "Y-You're voice is low...yet...kind. B-But, you go into the scary freezer at w-work...s-so you do something bad, I think. I-I don't want to think that...um, y-you have a nice car...and um, nice suits."
"Dios Mio. Este conejito va a ser mi muerte. (My god. This little bunny is going to be the death of me.)" Miguel whispered.
"Y-You speak Spanish." You said with a shy smile.
Miguel let out a rare laugh. It spooked even his driver. Unable to stop his little fit, Miguel turned towards you and stroked your cheek. Your eyes widen as if you were memorized by him. Miguel inhaled to the sight of your sparkling orbs.
"That was not what I was expecting." He hummed, his thumb rubbing circles around your cheek, "Do you know how innocent you are? Makes me want to gobble you up."
"Eep," You squeaked, growing even more flustered.
Miguel's smirk widen, enjoying your reaction. Noticing that they have arrived, Miguel helped you out of the car. You were covering your face from embarrassment and noticed that you were in front of a clothing store. You turned to Miguel, looking around,
"U-Um...Is...Is this one of those...fancy places where the r-restaurant is hidden behind a clothing rack...or something?"
"Señor, dame fuerzas para no follarla en el auto aquí y ahora. (Lord, give me strength to not fuck her in the car right here and now.)" He groaned. You titled your head,
"Um," Immediately recalling when Eddie would snap at you for stupid remarks, you winced and lowered your head, "S-Sorry...It was...It was a dumb thing t-to s-say." You stuttered.
Miguel's ears perked up as your stuttering got worse. He glanced at you, seeing you tremble as you avoided eye contact. This made him grind his teeth. He lifted your chin, watching tears threaten to spill. Whoever this ex of yours was, Miguel was going to kill him.
"Nothing you say is stupid. I wanted to treat you to some new clothes before we go to lunch."
"Y-You d-don't have too!"
"But I want too."
Miguel grabbed your hand and led you inside the building. The workers all immediately bowed and started to get to work. Miguel had to raise his hand and direct their attention to you. The male workers immediately moved away, while the women took you under their care.
"Give her something nice, long sleeved." Miguel said simply before taking a seat in their VIP section.
"M-Miguel?"
"It's okay. Pick whatever you want, they won't say anything."
You rolled your lips inward and shyly nodded. It would be rude to deny his offer, you were just worried about what the cost will be later. Such things never came for free.
Feeling dizzy as the workers showed you a bunch of outfits, you took a few of them and went into the fitting rooms. A worker tried to offer to help, but you grew scared. She saw this and left you alone. Once inside the fitting room, you slowly started to undress.
There, in the mirror, you saw the sight you didn't want anyone else to see. You had bruises that never healed, cuts across your arms and some cigarette burn marks. Every time you looked in the mirror, you cried. It felt like these were missing pieces that could never be found like a puzzle.
"Miss (Y/N), are you alright?" A worker asked.
"O-Oh, y-yes, s-sorry." You whimpered.
Finishing up, you hurried out to show the workers. They all clapped and agreed that the new attire suited you. Deciding on it, you went to change, but Miguel appeared and told you to keep it on. The workers placed your old clothes in a bag and Miguel swiftly paid.
"M-Miguel-" Oh, how his name rolled off your tongue so nicely, "A-Are you sure this...this is okay?"
"Of course," Miguel returned you to the car, "Now for that lunch I promised."
You sat beside Miguel, playing with your sleeves. You glanced up at him, seeing a smile on his face. You glanced away for a second, before continuing your prior conversation,
"S-So...Do you think...You can tell me...about yourself?" You asked.
Miguel arched a brow, before giving in. What harm would it be for his little bunny to know some things about him. Miguel started off simple, his likes, his dislikes and his home. He watched you, surprised by how intent you were on listening to him. Normally, the other girls would be bored by now.
"I'm the CEO of Alchemax," He continued, knowing that this was what the girls wanted.
"Alchemax?" You questioned, thinking, "Hm, w-wait, t-the Alchemax?! Like, CEO...B-Big Boss?"
"Haha, yes." Miguel adored your reaction.
"That explains the hidden fridge in the car,"
Unable to contain his laughter again, Miguel burst out. You were truly something else. Miguel was going to enjoy having you for himself. Oh, he could see it now. His precious little girlfriend, all nuzzled up to his side. His innocent little bunny who knew so little of who he truly was.
Explaining a bit more to you, Miguel felt his desire grow larger. This hunting game was turning into something more. Miguel hummed as he helped you out of the car once more and into the restaurant. His grip around your waist was firm, wanting to make sure that everyone knew who his next trophy was.
"Don't be nervous," He whispered in your ear as you entered the restaurant.
You followed Miguel to a fairly size table on the top floor in the balcony. Your heart was racing a mile a minute as you tried to think of the cost of everything. Miguel must have sensed your worry since he reminded you to take deep breathes.
Once seated, you glanced at the menu and nearly froze at the prices. Yes, Miguel just confessed that he was a CEO, but this was too much for a first date. You were almost scared to order anything.
"Hm? Don't go looking for the cheapest item," Miguel said with a casual smile, "Order whatever you want."
"B-But...It's so...pricey. I-I can just have a water." You whimpered. Miguel went to grab you hand, placing his lips against it,
"I took you out of your comfort zone, so I'm treating you. I can just pick something if you don't know what to get?" He offered.
Miguel had to bite the inside of his cheek as he saw the pleading look in your eyes. So submissive. Miguel wondered if you would look at him like that in bed too.
Clearing his throat, he waved towards the waiter and ordered for the both of you. Miguel tried to ease you up, but asking how you liked the city and your job. He didn't want his little bunny to get too frighten and run away.
"I-I'm sure you've seen...h-how nervous I can get...S-So work is a little...stressful, b-but I manage!"
"You've gotten thinner though,"
"Ah-" You tensed, lowering your head, "S-Sometimes...I don't have the um, energy to eat. O-Or I don't eat much."
Miguel furrowed his brows. This was sounding a little familiar. Almost like what one of his close men, Peter, went through after his girlfriend broke up with him. Already knowing how this goes, Miguel started to text Lyla.
He let you rabble, wanting to get your mind off your nerves. That, and Miguel felt at ease listening to you. Once the food arrived, Miguel kept watching you. It was a bad habit of his. He was so used to the fake women who tried to get with him, that he just wanted to find a flaw. But how could he?
You were enjoying every bite. Your smile growing wider as you held your cheeks in awe. You were so thankful for whatever you ate. Miguel slowly drank his whiskey, just enjoying this. For the first time in a long time, he was actually enjoying himself.
"Mhm~ Thank you, Miguel~" You cooed happily as you finished your meal. Miguel finished his as well,
"Of course,"
The two of you ended up chatting for a while longer at the restaurant. Hearing his phone go off, Miguel grunted as he saw a meeting notification. This wasn't an Alchemax meeting either. Miguel had some more business with Vulture and even Ock's gangs.
Apologizing to you, Miguel took your hand and brought you to the car. He wanted to drive you home first before dealing with whatever blood bath he was going to have later.
"M-Miguel, I-I know you said not to worry...B-But...W-What, no, um, h-how would you-"
"Another date," Miguel knew where you were going with that sentence.
"S-Sure!" You chirped happily and thought, "I-Is it okay...If maybe, I pick the place...next time?"
Miguel was surprised by your suggestion. He did have to be careful due to his underworld status, but hell. Agreeing to your terms, Miguel smiled as you started to cheer excitedly in your seat. Your smile was addicting.
Once you arrived back home, you were escorted to your apartment by Miguel again. You stood at your door frame, playing with your fingers. Miguel went to kiss your hand once more, thanking you for the evening. You squeaked lowly,
"N-No, t-thank you!" You chirped and started to rub your arms, hesitantly, "C-Can...C-Can I...I-I text you later?"
Miguel questioned your stuttering and movements. Why were you so nervous now?
"I'll be waiting-" Before he could finish his sentence, you kissed his cheek.
"T-T-Thank you!!!" You squeaked before hurrying inside.
Miguel just exhaled as he stared at your door. His fingers trailed his cheek where you kissed, smirking. You were going to be such a beautiful trophy wife for him.
"Until next time, my little bunny."
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Next chapter
@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove
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cillianhead · 1 year ago
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Hi, I love love love everything you write! Your so talented could you please write something about Emmett. He & y/n have arrived on the island and Emmett can't wait to make love to her without being quiet. Thank you ❤️
You are amazing thank you <3
I love Emmett...
that film was what got me into Cillian. Literally remember going nuts over how hot he was.
Anyway... hope you enjoy!!
Scream For Me || Emmett x Reader
Warnings: SMUT, unprotected P in V, oral sex (m receiving), daddy kink, breeding kink, adult content.
18+ Minors DNI
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The island was safe. You kept repeating in your head, and you couldn't help but flinch as everyone spoke out loud or did something a little too noisy. You just sat and waited for the horrid creatures to get them but they never came because they couldn't swim. Emmett easily talked aloud, it was strange, this was the first time you had really heard him talk so loud. Of course, you'd speak louder than a whisper but never this openly. His voice made you feel all woozy and shy in such a pathetic way.
"I reckon we're gonna head to bed now..." Emmett murmured to the group around the fire, he looked at you, seeing your nervousness. This was only your second night on the island, you still hadn't quite adjusted yet to a comfortable bed and clean clothes... and working showers. "It was lovely talking to you all, goodnight." Emmett patted a few guys on the back, waving politely before sauntering to you.
Emmett picked you up and threw you over his shoulder, you gasped at this, looking at the people giggling at you two. They had a small empty house for the two of you to live in, it was nice enough. Nicer than anything you'd find back out on the mainland.
"So quiet," Emmett hummed as he sat you down on the foot of your bed. A look of hunger was evident on his face. "You're such a good girl, Y/N." He knelt down in front of you, torso in between your legs as he peppered kisses along your neck and collarbone.
"Emmett..." You whispered.
"No need to whisper here, sweet girl," He grinned at you. "You can be as loud as you want."
You leaned in, kissing him desperately, the way he pawed at you made you feel weak. Hands slipping underneath your cotton sweater and pulling it over your head, breaking the kiss. "No bra?" Emmett smirked before teeth sank into the top of your left breast, sucking in and creating a plum-colored bruise. He was trying to elicit a reaction out of you, trying to get you to moan, trying to get you to be loud.
"God... Em..." You said through shaky breaths, a little louder this time. He kept marking you until your entire chest was littered with love bites with teeth marks indented around it like some sort of peculiar pattern of rosettes. "Markin' you as mine," He grunted before latching a mouth onto your erect nipple. "Everyone's gonna see ya love, gonna see how you belong to me, and you're my girl" Emmett pulled away from you, pulling off his clean white shirt, revealing his chest hair and the snail trail that tucked itself away under his trousers.
"Emmett... we haven't... had sex in so long..." You bit your lip, thinking about how you had been so stressed and so busy trying to survive that you never really had time to do anything. You thought about how last night you two had separate showers. You had a long hot shower, the first in a long time. Of course, you bathed in creeks but it wasn't the same. You had been given a fresh clean razor when you first arrived on the island as well. Emmett chose to neatly trim his beard but he still kept it long. He knew how you loved his beard.
"I know, need you so fucking bad, feel..." He grabbed your wrist and placed it over his clothed cock, letting you feel how rock-hard he was. You reached up and eagerly tugged down his pants, the ones that fit him so nicely, they were slightly high-waisted and they weren't caked in dirt or old blood. You wondered what Emmett was like before this all started, you wondered how you two would've gotten along, though you quickly remembered that he had a wife before all of this. "Gonna suck my cock? Must be a special occasion, go on, baby, suck me off."
You give a timid lick to the weeping head of his cock, sighing happily at the taste of his precum on the tip of your tongue. "Don't tease." He said firmly. Emmett held you by your hair which was pulled up into a makeshift ponytail. You looked up at him as you slowly wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking harshly and feeling pleased as you see his eyes flutter shut, sinking even further down on his shaft.
Emmett's hips bucked into your mouth involuntarily, you gagged and he moaned at the sight of you. Spit dribbling out of your mouth, lips stretched around his thick cock and eyes all watery for him. One of your fingers slipped underneath your shorts, slowly rubbing at your clit and moaning around his dick as he began fucking in and out of your mouth, letting tears slip down your face.
"I love your little mouth," He grunted deliriously, hands on either side of your head as he fucked it harshly, using you like a fleshlight. "I wanna cum down your throat... fuck... but I need to be inside you." He slowly pulled his wet cock from your dribbling mouth. You gasped in for air, massaging your aching jaw as he stroked himself slowly.
"I want you to cum inside of me... please..." You whispered. He had never done that before, the last thing you two needed was for you to get pregnant during a time like this. But things were different now, you were on the island, and maybe you could raise a baby together finally. "Please... Emmett..." Your glossy eyes looked up at him, pleading silently with him.
Emmett's eyes glazed over, he looked like was high as you slipped your shorts and underwear off, revealing your freshly shaved cunt to him. His jaw fell open as he whimpered, "Fuck, look at that," Emmett let go of himself and approached you slowly, pushing you down and spreading your legs open to look down at this new look for you. "What a pretty little thing... can't believe you did this for me."
"All for you, daddy." You hummed quietly, no louder than you would when you'd fuck in the bunker. He grunted at the nickname as he fell down on top of you, holding himself up with one arm and the other helped guide his throbbing hard-on to your gushing pussy. "Are you gonna cum in me?" "So desperate for it, 'course I'm gonna fuckin' cum in ya," He remarked, pushing into you slowly. "How could I deny you of that? Especially 'cause you asked so nicely."
You arched your back, slapping a hand over your mouth to cover your moans like you always did for him as his cock was now fully sheathed within you. The stretch ached deliciously, pussy clenching around him, begging him to move.
"Fuck..." You whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head, nails digging into Emmett's strong shoulders. "Emmett..." You whispered. You were trying your best to stay quiet as he began grinding into you.
"Speak up for me," Emmett groaned, rolling his hips right into where you needed him. "Need to hear you scream for me, baby... I know you've got it in you."
You shook your head, whimpering as he fucked you like a pornstar, panting above you, mouth agape and eyes clearly displeased with your disobedient reaction. One of his nimble fingers slipped down your stomach and onto your pulsing clit, you were painfully aroused, every stroke of his dick brushing perfectly against your g-spot. Your mind goes completely blank, legs squeezing and shaking around him, nails leaving claw marks on Emmett's biceps. You couldn't help but start to scream, he was fucking you so passionately you couldn't hold it in.
"That's it," He breathily said. "That's my girl, tell me how good I'm fucking you." "So good!" You moaned, sounding like you were being railed within an inch of your life. His balls slapped against your ass and Emmett's hands now were gripping onto your hips, holding you tightly, manhandling you into the bed and using you to chase his own pleasure. You were a mess, an extremely loud mess, on the brink of tears at how good he fucked you. "God.... daddy! Oh... fuck... wanna have your babies!"
A sick grin spread across his blissed-out face, high on the feeling of your tight cunt all stretched out around him. "Then I'll give you my babies if that's what you want, gonna cream in you, gonna fill you with my cum every fuckin' night til..." He gasped out, stuttering on his words, you were squeezing him tighter than ever, his raspy tone of voice bringing you closer to cumming your brains out. "...Gonna fill you with my cum every night til... I see you walkin' round all pregnant and glowing with my kid in you."
You nodded your head desperately and cried like a slut, Emmett leaned down and intimately pressed his forehead against your own, thrusts sloppy as you felt the orgasm unleash itself upon you. The pleasure is hot and white and consuming, words incoherent as you scream out. His own seed fills you like an endless fountain, the vibrations of his own moaning in your neck send you further down that spiral of pleasure.
"Oh, daddy..." You're gasping out for air, your hands cupping your own tits as he still rutted into you, almost a bit pathetically, his cum spilling out of you as his seed just kept on coming. "So... so full..."
His eyes are squeezed shut, the veins in his forehead prominent as he slowly begins to come down. He didn't say a word as he collapsed on top of you, catching his breath, sweaty skin pressed against you. "My love... took me so well..."
"I think I was too loud..." You bit your lip, feeling incredibly flustered and embarrassed at how you knew the rest of the island probably heard your late night shenanigans.
"No such thing," Emmett pressed wet kisses along your jaw, trailing them until he reached your lips. "Prettiest thing I've ever heard." He whispered, speaking right into your mouth. "I'm gonna make you scream until your throat is raw, I'm addicted to your sounds."
You could feel him grow hard again and his hungry lips took yours in his again and the screaming began again, this time concealed within a kiss.
-
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demonicbaby666 · 7 months ago
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Remember Me
One Shot | Criminal Minds Masterlist | Masterlists
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Fandom: Criminal Minds 
Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x fem!Reader
Genre: Angst, brief smut
Words: 2.9k+ 
Warnings: 18+, minors DNI, cheating, fingering, oral sex, brief mention of blood, loss
Summary: JJ has lived her whole life pleasing everyone, even if it was at the cost of her own happiness. But one day, she stumbles upon an unexpected opportunity to stray away from her norm, have a conversation, a relationship away from everything and everyone she knows. Why wouldn't she take it?
A/n: I'm sorry in advance. That's all I can say, really.
JJ fits the mould. She always has and always will. 
When she was younger, she played well with other children, smiled as she let girls braid her hair, and wept when the boys tugged at them. She listened when her parents told her it was just how young boys showed interest and that she should be flattered. Though she didn’t quite understand, the little girl managed to take it on the chin and try her hardest to focus on the compliment of having her scalp ache. That was until one boy, who showed ‘interest’ in her regularly, had yanked her poorly done braid for the third time in ten minutes. The whole ordeal ended with JJ towering over him as he fell back onto his butt and cried ugly, bulging tears. 
She cried in the car the whole way back home when her mom came to pick her up from daycare, shouting at her for acting so brutish. ‘You think any of the boys will like you now?’ That’s what her mom had said, but JJ didn’t care; she had her friends who took care of her, made her laugh and would only ever get feisty when it was time to share a toy. 
“Even the girls will be scared to play with you.”
She never did anything like that again. 
When she was in high school, she was the ‘it’ girl. Her grades were stellar, alongside her love life, as she took on the duty of dating the soon-to-be prom king. She was the perfect girlfriend, never mind that there was always an excuse not to let him get her naked when they were alone. Usually, it was that she wasn’t ready; she didn’t tell him that behind closed doors, she got in enough practice with her best friend, but that’s all it was. Practice. It wasn’t that she got butterflies when soft lips kissed along her neck rather than the gruff of unbalmed lips or when manicured nails showed her how it felt to have her collarbones traced rather than calloused fingers fumbling with her bra strap. Practice. 
She married a bland man with a thick accent and a proclivity to make sarcastic comments, and together, they had two kids, forming the perfect nuclear family. How perfect, and entirely not macabrely mundane. She should have been happy and content. What she had was the dream, the societal one at least, that her younger self would have gushed at. ‘You’re so lucky,’ she could hear her little voice say, see the innocent smile on that unknowing face that was forced to gush at having her pigtails yanked and feel pride in her youthful stance. It made her stomach lurch. 
Then, one day, she’s sat on a park bench, crying. She can’t remember why, only feels the anguish crack in her chest and force another stream of tears down her swollen cheeks. Vaguely, she registers she’s not alone, hears the dull creek of aged wood and tries to simmer her sobs to sniffles. When that doesn’t work, the blonde is forced to turn her stiff neck and face the embarrassment of being caught crying in public head-on. Maybe tell this stranger to pick another bench, to mind their business, anything that would get them away. Seriously, there were at least two free benches, and she couldn’t fathom why anyone would approach her in this state when there were very clearly other options. 
As the dismissing words touch her lips, they fade away, eyes batting to try and halt the swarm of tears in their tracks. Soft. JJ notices that you’re soft. All she’s known her life is rough, sharp, brittle edges, from the itchy feel of a beard scratching at her chin to the unpleasurable rutting of a man inside her, finishing in twenty seconds. But your hands are not callused when they lay upon the skin of her upper arm, and your smile is not unsure as you gaze into her azure eyes. JJ doesn’t understand why her stomach is flipping, but she suddenly feels okay. She doesn’t hate herself for it. Not like how she hates herself for everything she feels.
“Are you okay?” you ask, light and open, and she hears your voice's unmistakable melody of genuine care. 
The confessions are spilling out like water from a faucet, and before JJ is even aware, she’s run through her whole life and has mapped out every wrong decision that’s led her to a life of service. She realises things about herself she’d have never seen had it not been for your impartial presence and attentive nods. 
You do your best to weigh in, encourage personal discoveries and meet them with reassurances and words of affirmation. You watch as this gorgeous, kind and intelligent woman unravels right before your very eyes and see the moment everything clicks. You click. You’re an outsider to the normalcy she has to display daily, and you’re not witness to the constant acts she performs to appease her husband, colleagues, and even her children. You’re a taste of what it's like to be able to simply exist away from expectations and scrutiny. 
She places her hand over the one you have on her arm, brings it down to rest in her lap and traces lines over the creases of your palm. There’s something about how you look at her; it makes her feel young again. She doesn’t care about anything anymore, wants to follow her heart rather than her brain, and for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel guilty about it. 
That’s how it starts. Every week, JJ finds herself drawn to that bench, drawn to you. You talk, and she forgets; she forgets about everything except what it is to be herself without bounds. It truly is a beautiful sight. She’s utterly, undeniably and inextricably beautiful. 
You smile so brightly, from cheek to cheek, as you watch her laugh, watch life come back to her with each little confession she gives away. Like when she was younger, she vaguely remembers making her Barbies kiss, or in high school, her boyfriend's only redeeming quality was his long hair that he'd let her maintain or that only a few weeks ago she had to clear her search history after deep diving into, well that one she never finishes, but from the crimson hue that appears over JJ’s cheeks you’re able to put two and two together. The story of a new colleague joining the team rattles you the most. 
JJ speaks of how she often found herself transfixed, admiring her mannerisms, her wardrobe, and how her brown eyes shone in a particular light. She tells you how sometimes, even now, when she catches the brunette's eye, her heart still leaps a little, but it’s emptier and accompanied by the bitter taste of regret. There’s a sadness when the blonde lets that confession slip, like a piece of her breaks every time she talks of it, reliving the same moments over and over, and you manage to push aside your jealousy in favour of offering her a reassuring smile and comforting embrace. 
Weeks turned to months, and soon, JJ found herself staring at you in much the same way she had her junior high best friend. She knows the feeling but resents the accompanying guilt that only worsens with joining your lips together and later looking her husband in the eye. Her whole life, she’s done the right thing, followed the rules, did as she was told, and ever since meeting you, she’s realised all it had amounted to was endless longing. In a fucked way, she thinks of you as her saviour, a chance to see that her deeper desires should have always been fuel enough to turn a blind eye to so-called duty. 
Of course, you’ve come years too late when she’s forged bonds that, in her eyes, will always be unbreakable. It helps to think that way; it hurts less when she takes your hand and leads you into a hotel suite booked under a pseudonym. You smile nonetheless the whole walk through the corridor, ignoring how there’s an odd smell in the air, how the carpet is sticky and stained, and how, between clasped hands, you feel the presence and prick of JJ’s wedding ring. 
She needs this, and you want to be everything she needs, everything she feels, and everything she wants you to be. 
And you are. And you are more. 
You show her what it is to be devoured, to kiss slowly and languidly, to have sex without it feeling like a race, to be filled roughly and want it, crave it. She makes sweet sounds as you trail your lips down her body, seal them over her clit and lap at the tender bundle of nerves, never once looking away from who’s granting her this immense pleasure. By the time she’s cumming for the second time, she’s no longer chanting your name but words of gratitude, two single tears rolling down each cheek as she allows herself to feel the aftershocks of her orgasm before the euphoria dwindles. 
It doesn't take long for the blonde to recover, and when she does, she’s leaning over you, an eager look in her eyes shadowed by a hint of uncertainty. She’d never done this before, never been with a woman. Sure, she’d thought about it, seen it, but it had always felt impossible. Yet here you lie beneath her, smiling, waiting, and looking so fucking perfect she knows if she doesn’t get to touch you, she’ll never forgive herself. That thought alone has her hand working its way between your legs, delving between folds to coat her fingers in your arousal before she pushes two inside you. 
Again, she doesn’t look away. She can’t. 
She watches the veins in your neck strain as you throw your head back, watches your stomach roll with every thrust of her fingers, watches as your lips part and your jaw shakes and can’t stop herself from kissing you when she hears you moan. She can’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but she knows, she just knows. Knows that when she curls her fingers, you’ll whimper; when her thumb brushes over your clit you’ll gasp; and when she sucks a mark to your breast, you’ll cum. 
She whispers more confessions into the night after, and you feel a little like an intruder until she nestles against your side and presses soft kisses to your shoulder before she lays her head down on it and runs her fingers through your hair. She can’t stay; you both know it, but don’t say it. Instead, you dress each other between tender touches.
It’s the same hotel the next time and the time after that, every time. You’re used to the stale smell in the corridor and have even contributed to the array of stains. It was after you and JJ had indulged a little too much at a local bar and discovered, in the right company, that the blonde was rather handsy with wine sloshing around in her brain. That night, you both sobered up rather quickly; rushed touches turned slow, harsh kisses turned light and for the first time in both your lives, you made love. 
She insists on paying for dinner when you go out, and you temporarily forget that she has a family waiting for her at home; take in the new way she’s curled her hair and done her makeup. Her smile stretches so wide it’s a painful reminder that no one’s paid enough attention to her to mention these things, and you vow that for however long you get with her, you’ll be the one to notice these things, make her realise she deserved to have the little things pointed out and praised. 
Once the bill’s paid, JJ suggests a stroll, and you agree because it’s not outside the norm to walk to the hotel, paper trail and all. But as the blonde takes the lead, gently guiding you forward, you realise you’re walking to another familiar staple in your and JJ’s story. She’s first to sit down on the park bench, and you don’t hesitate to join, tucking your body into her side to ward away the slight chill of the evening breeze. 
“Cold?” JJ asks, a little confused, what with it being July. Still, she wraps an arm around you and pulls you perfectly closer, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. 
“A little.” you smile. “Nothing to worry about, though.”
It’s quiet for a while, and both of you are content to exist beneath the glowing stars together. That’s until you hear a text alert from JJ’s phone that could only be from one person. You’re not angry as you pull away from JJ’s warmth, allowing her to reply to her husband in peace, though you can’t deny that a sudden hollowness fills your chest.
“Do you forget about me too?” JJ whips her head up and shoots you a look of confusion. “When you’re with him, do you forget about me?” 
She places her phone down, and there’s a small victory in discovering you come first, at this moment at least. Soft hands land over your cheeks, and JJ pulls you into a slow kiss filled with so much devotion it leaves you dizzy. You pour just as much into the kiss as you’re being given until you’re both too desperate for breath that you’re forced to pull away. You don’t stray far, meeting JJ in the middle as you lean your foreheads together and feel each other's breaths steady.
“How could I forget you when you're all I think about?” JJ whispers, pecking your lips before she continues, “I miss you. When you’re not beside me, I miss you.” 
It’s what you needed to hear - reassuring enough to put your thoughts aside and allow JJ to kiss you again, to guide you to the place you ended most nights together, and to undress you. This time, JJ asks for no pleasure on her own and demands only yours. She doesn’t let you touch her, not until she’s had you cum over her fingers thrice already, has her head between your legs and her tongue inside you. Only then does she guide your hand to her hair, feeling bad for the crumpled bedsheets she’s sure you’ll rip anytime soon, allowing you to push her further into your sex. She laps hungrily like she’s starving for air, and you’re the promise of full lungs until you’re blissfully fucked out and spent, pushing her away and begging for breath. 
When JJ crawls back up the bed, the pride clear as your slick on her face, she pulls you half on top of her and holds you tighter than she ever has before. 
“Please, don’t forget about me,” you mutter over her heart, squeezing your eyes shut.
On the walk home, you grind your SIM card into the tarmac pavement till it’s unrecognisable. You walk past the park, past yours and JJ’s bench and let yourself cry ugly tears before smashing your phone against the ground and allowing the glass to cut your hands. 
It’s easier to do knowing you won’t face the consequences for long. You know she’ll find someone who’ll love her just as much as you do, and the thought fucking stings more than the physical pain you’re in.
You think to yourself that JJ was probably too caught up in what she wanted you to be for her that she never really and truly saw you. She never saw the paling of your skin, noticed how it became easier to mark you or looked away from your kind eyes to the bags beneath them. But in a weird way, you’re okay with it, because you got to be what JJ needed you to be. And maybe that was your purpose. Perhaps that’s why you didn't go straight home months ago after you’d received the test results from the hospital; instead, you walked to a nearby park. Maybe all along, your last months weren’t meant to be yours to live; instead, they belonged to someone else, and lord knows, JJ got more use out of them than you ever could. 
It’s a nice thought to drift off to, even if the monitor next to you beeps a little too loud, a little too slow, you tell yourself you were something to someone. You were, you are someone she won’t ever forget. 
She’s crying again, in the same park, on the same bench, except you’re not there this time. Her hands are bare of jewellery, and she wants to be happy about it, but you’re not here. Her eyes search the barren benches, and she's repeatedly calling out your name till her throat is raw and blistered. JJ doesn’t know whether she’s cursing you or calling to you; she only knows that this is freeing, that each time your name leaves her lips, it feels like reopening a flesh wound. She keeps going till her lips are chapped, till she cold starts to raise goosebumps over her arms, until the setting sun glints off something in the corner of her eye. She looks to her side, catches a metal plaque on the head of the bench she’s never seen before and traces her fingers over the familiar letters until everything starts to make more and less sense. 
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zorosdimples · 9 months ago
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DUSK, RESPLENDENT
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pairing ⟢ astarion x gn!reader
warnings ⟢ minors: please do not interact! i will block you. not sexually explicit, but highly suggestive… smut-lite! descriptions of blood, blood sucking, bite marks, scars, etc. this occurs after astarion first feeds from tav. reader has breasts and a vagina and is called “beautiful” once (i swiped a line from the game).
word count ⟢ 1208
notes ⟢ this particular scenario has been rotting my brain since september. my first official bg3 fic—please enjoy!
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It’s impossible to miss the heat of his crimson gaze scorching your flesh.
You’ve felt it ever since the night you discovered his secret: that quiet evening when the stars shined as silent sentinels, the embers of the campfire danced into ash, and the ghost of a breath roused you. You offered Astarion your neck—swanlike, untouched, vital—prey allowing predator a taste of divinity as he buried his glistening fangs into your skin. Agony bled into a hazy euphoria as the vampire fed on your lifeblood. You barely had enough stamina to push him off (lest he leave you drained and lifeless), rivulets of you the color of his irises running from his gums to his chin, dripping onto the forest floor.
Many moons have since passed, though your mind always revisits the feeling of his weight atop yours, the strength of his jaw, the vitality in his sated stare. The sun starts its golden descent as you bathe in a creek by camp. You scrub your skin with vigor, almost without care as you seek to shed layers of sweat, grime, and gore. The midsummer air is stifling and the cicadas play their shrill song, but the chilly caress of the water makes you giddy.
It takes no small effort, but once your hair and body are stripped bare (clean enough), you remain in the water and watch pinks and oranges and yellows bleed and bloom across the wide sky. Some may say that resting for even a moment in a situation like yours—with a mindflayer parasite in your brain—is to accept death. But if you were to die at this very moment, surrounded by beauty? You couldn’t dream of a more peaceful end.
You feel your visitor’s presence before you see or hear him. It starts as an itch at your nape, nagging and unsettling—insistent. “Enjoying the view?” The playful lilt of Astarion's smooth voice never fails to set your nerves alight.
As you turn to face him, the water laps at your collarbone. You spy the pale elf along the bank, donning only his breeches. Cheeky bastard. “I could ask you the same,” you quip.
“I am indeed.” Lithe fingers tease the waistband of his pants. “But I can't help but feel as though something is missing.”
Walking a few steps toward the shore, you reveal more flesh, water skimming the top of your breasts. “It wouldn’t happen to be a rogue vampire, would it?”
“And if it is?”
“He should join.”
You sink beneath the creek’s surface, allowing him some privacy and urging your face to cool down. When you plant your feet on the silty ground and stand up, you rub crystalline droplets from your eyes and blink a few times before your companion comes into focus.
“Hello, beautiful,” he greets with a smirk before approaching you, dexterous fingers grasping and pulling at the fat around your hips. “I can't help but feel as though you’ve been avoiding me.”
Without thinking, your fingers weave through Astarion's moonbeam hair, gently tugging on the curls. The elf pulls you closer with a pleased hum. “Whatever gave you that impression?” you ask.
“Don’t play coy; I haven't so much as gotten a breath alone with you.” His gaze softens; you see a flash of vulnerability, but all too soon, it disappears. “Do you…regret this?” A chilly thumb grazes the puckered scar on your neck. The featherlight touch plucks a shudder from you, your spine bowing—strung for him.
“Quite the opposite,” you admit. Your attention flits down to his lips. Maker, you know they would feel divine dancing with your own, slipping down to carry the tune across your flesh, skating lower and lower until—
“So,” he says, palms sweeping up your arms and the slope of your shoulders until they rest on either side of your neck. He strokes the delicate flesh, his touch unhurried yet charged; restless. “You wouldn’t begrudge me another taste, hm?”
Perhaps you should be embarrassed by how eagerly you want this to happen, how many times you’ve envisioned him tasting your blood again—and perhaps tasting something more (such thoughts have fueled many solitary searches for pleasure within the canvas walls of your tent). But living in the dusky shadows of near-certain death has made you hopelessly brazen.
You lean in, petal-soft lips grazing one of his pointed ears. “It’s yours for the taking.”
Astarion’s irises darken at your words, pools of congealed blood. He drops his head and presses a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to your scar, his molten breath warming your body, melding you to his touch.
He bares his fangs and bites you, piercing the puffy tissue, a satisfied groan rumbling his throat and resonating in your veins. The pain is dizzying but dulls quickly, the jarring sensation of knife-sharp incisors tearing your flesh carried away by the flow of the creek. Fuzzy pleasure soon clouds your mind. The sloppy lap of the elf’s tongue against your wound is all you can discern; you want to feel him everywhere.
The vampire’s moans shudder deep within his chest and reverberate through your body from where you’re connected, vibrating lower until they settle in your core. A delicious pressure rocks against your belly and seems to relish the softness. It feels like he gluts for an eternity—like this is all you know—housed within a single, precious breath.
When Astarion surfaces, fangs retracting, you stumble in his embrace, coming down from your high. The ache of want remains as you rest your forehead against his freckled shoulder, and morphs into need as your vision clears. His eyes are unfocused, crazed with bloodlust; you’ve never seen them so red, glowing like moonlit wine. His chin is slick with ichor, and—absentmindedly or not, it’s impossible to tell—his tongue darts out to mop up some of the remnants of your sweetness.
One, two, three heaves of your chests pass before you crash together with a swiftness that betrays desperation, errant waves succumbing to the tide.
You never liked the tang of your blood until you tasted it on Astarion’s silken lips. It’s…cloying. The syrupy copper overwhelms your senses as the elf smears a claret gash across your mouth. He drunkenly sucks on your tongue, fangs nicking the muscle, urging you to give him more. Your fingers twist and twirl the pearly down that covers his chest as he squeezes your ass, pulling you so close that not even a whisper could get between you. You’re engulfed in a heady fire, one that can’t be put out by the cool water around you—especially as the vampire’s cock nestles between your clenched thighs, bumping against your clit.
A crashing sound in the surrounding forest interrupts your shared bliss. The moon ascended and the stars awoke while you were wrapped up in one another. Lightning bugs glimmer and flit through the dark woods, and you know that you both need to leave. Supper will be soon; any absences will be noticed. But before he pulls away, Astarion places a prim kiss on your lips.
“Meet me by the campfire after everyone else has fallen asleep,” he whispers against your cheek.
Your heart trills as you watch him disappear into the night—excited for the adventure to come.
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anonymous-vr · 5 months ago
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Water Nymph Part 1
Summary:
You never thought going to the surface would actually have consequences.
Word Count: 3k
FantasyBakugoux Waternymph/fem/reader
Warnings:
Eventual Smut
MDNI!
Authors Word:
Thank you all for the love! A full author's note is at the end.
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As the rain poured down, the creek fell still. Other life forms rushed to get out of the rain and find shelter while water nymphs rose from the hollow of the enchanted spring. The splash of water harmonizes with raindrops punching the large body of water. The remaining population of nymphs resided in a spring deep within the trees, a place no human was meant to find. This was done for a reason.
Long ago, water nymphs and humans lived in harmony, relying on each other's strengths. Most water nymphs offered healing properties, while humans possessed skills that allowed nymphs to live comfortably. The nymphs were worshipped as healing goddesses, and this mutual respect maintained a stable world. But it only took one human to shatter this relationship, driving others to madness. They believed that drinking the blood of a healing water nymph would grant them powers. This delusion led to the slaughter of many nymphs. Some were even forced to breed, resulting in a new generation of powered humans.
The remaining nymphs fled to a hidden spring in the woods. For generations, humans searched for them but found nothing. To cheer the surviving nymphs, the gods blessed the spring with new water nymphs. Among them, only one had the power of healing—you.
"Come on Callirrhoe, why am I the only one banned from the surface?" "It's to keep you safe from those deranged humans." In human years you were twenty-two, the youngest of ten. Throughout your life, you've heard this answer countless times. "I know, I know. If the humans somehow find our spring, they'll be able to recognize my power and steal me away. It just doesn't make sense to me though! Humans haven't found us since you and your sisters made this spring, and you guys are generations old!" Callirrhoe sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "y/n, you will not be joining your sisters at the surface. Understood?" Her tone was harsh, threatening even. You were tired of being kept underwater. Your sisters always spoke about how nice it was to breathe "air" and lay on the "soft grass". Frustration made your eyes water as you quickly turned away and retreated to your room.
Hours passed before your sisters finally retreated back into the water. The spring filled with chatter as you swam to meet them. They caught you up on all the details of the surface—the leaves were finally growing back after a chilling winter, the air was warm, and flowers bloomed around the spring. "I wish I could see." You spoke softly, your sisters all gave you a sympathetic look. "We wish you could too, but you have to stay protected. You being the last power-wielding nymph, we can't assume safety. I don't want you killed or bred, you've heard Callirrhoe's stories, humans are barbarians. Better safe than sorry." Your brows furrowed at your eldest sister's words. "So what, I'm meant to stay underwater throughout my existence? Because it's 'better safe than sorry'? Why have this stupid power if I can't even use it? It's not like you guys get hurt. Besides, it's been generations since humans killed nymphs, who's to say they haven't changed."
This conversation was nothing new, your sisters knew you were a lost cause. "Believe whatever you want y/n, you aren't going to the surface land though." At that, determination boiled inside of you.
As the waters grew dark, rain continued to echo throughout the spring. Feeling rebellious, you decided to stay up late to get a taste of land. Your heart pounded as you silently swam to the top of the spring. Your now-weighted hair clung to your wet head and face as you nervously looked around. The air was strange; it took a few seconds to get used to it. Leaves brushed against the rain, creating a magical ambiance. "Wow," you breathed quietly, beginning to move around in the water. You hesitated as you reached the dirt, slowly gripping a chunk. The soil was rich and brown, completely different from the rocks beneath the water. After some self-encouragement, you finally pushed yourself out of the water and onto the land. Your skimpy clothes did nothing to guard you from the night breeze that brushed your wet body. Your body suddenly weighed you down, and you stumbled around before catching your balance.
"Wow," you repeated again, this time with excitement as your feet gripped the ground. You couldn't understand what danger could come from you being on the surface, it was so peaceful. You giggled to yourself before rushing around the spring, feeling whatever you could get your hands on. Eyes looking up, you were enchanted by the sight of the stars and the moon. You had never seen them before, but your sisters described them perfectly. You all told stories about how the stars, sun, and moon were where the Gods lived.
As you began to relax, squatting down and taking in your surroundings, the sound of a twig snapping alerted you. Freezing from shock, your head darted in the direction of the noise. A small butterfly flew past you. Uneducated on the surface land, you giggled as you couldn't understand how something so small could've broken something as thick as a twig. The moment was cut short though as footsteps responded to your laughs. Voice catching in your throat, you rushed to hide behind a tree.
"I know I heard something from over here, I promise I did!" A deep voice echoed through the trees before three giant humans came into view. You quickly ducked back behind the tree, hoping you weren't seen. "If you're wasting my time again, I'll have your head on a fucking stick Denki." The second voice was mean, scary even. You couldn't help the frightened squeak that fell from your lips. All movement stopped; you knew they'd heard you. "I told you I heard something."
Your body froze in fear, you wanted to believe that humans had changed but the stories you'd been told instantly rushed to the front of your brain. "If you reveal yourself now, we won't hurt you." A third voice spoke reassuringly. You bit down on your tongue, mentally cursing yourself for disobeying the nymphs. You knew the gods above were disappointed in you. Hands gripping the tree, you naively decided to reveal yourself. If you came clean, you believed they wouldn't hurt you. Maybe you could introduce them to your sisters to prove that humans were no longer a threat.
After a few seconds of silence, you slowly moved from behind the tree. On the other side of the spring stood three men. The first had golden hair that glistened even in the dim light, and he stood tall and full of energy, an aura of warmth surrounding him. Next to him was an even taller man with spiky red hair that seemed to bristle with intensity, his presence slightly intimidating. But it was the third man who made you want to shrink away. His untamed blonde hair framed a face with piercing carnelian eyes that scrutinized you intently, making your heart race with unease.
"Holy shit." The golden-haired man spoke as they all stared at you. After a beat of silence, the redhead took a step forward. Scared, you took one step away.
Bakugou had been ordered to find the long-lost nymphs, in an attempt to heal his extremely sick mother. With her being the queen, and his mother, he had no choice but to listen. He thought it was ridiculous, to wander the woods to find the mystical creatures in every child's story book. He did as he was told, taking his trusted men with him. Bakugou never thought he'd actually find a nymph though. It was obvious what you were, your features matched those of the story descriptions. Long hair, enchanting eyes, pointy ears, and an alluring beauty. He took in your appearance; wet body covered by a thin fabric. Even in tattered clothes, you were enticing.
After a few seconds, you took a hesitant step toward the spring. You thought that if you moved quickly, you could retreat back underwater. "Move another inch and I'll kill you." Bakugou's words were fierce, his voice deep and gruff as he pointed his sword at you. From your point of view, your heart fell to your toes. From Bakugou's point of view, he knew he was bluffing, he needed you alive. "So, you can understand what I'm saying?" You swallowed thickly as you stood frozen in place. Maybe it was a good thing you didn't retreat to the spring, that would've put the others in danger.
Within seconds, the blonde nudged his head towards you and the buff redhead began approaching. It took only a few strides for him to reach you. Reacting quickly, you grabbed a stone from the ground and smashed it against his forehead. Your quick reflexes surprised the man as he groaned in pain. Taking this opportunity, you spun around and ran from the spring. These humans were barbaric just as your nymphs had said. You had to get them away from the spring and you knew they'd follow you.
Feet pushing you through the trees, the sound of bodies following you began to get louder. You lasted a few more seconds before you were tackled to the ground, a groan leaving your lips as you smashed against the dirt. Strong hands wrapped your arms behind your back before forcing you up. You were immediately met with the angry red eyes of who you presumed to be the leader. "I've learned about you nymphs in story books, never did they mention how much of a pain in the ass you'd be." Furrowing your brows, you tried to yank from his grasp. Pain fell over your body though when something hard smashed against the back of your head. You immediately saw black.
In your sleep, you could feel the disappointment from the other nymphs. You knew once they woke up and realized you were missing, they'd know you disobeyed the rules and got yourself in trouble. Your dreams were filled with nightmarish scenarios of what may happen to you. You were stirred awake though as water enveloped your body. Was this all a dream? Am I still underwater in the spring? Eye's slowly opening, you were disappointed to see a group of individuals staring up at you. It only took a few minutes for you to understand what had happened.
"She's got a strong arm, the nymph hit my head hard enough to draw blood." The muffled voices caught your attention as you swam to the glass containing you. "You're in this compartment since you can't keep your hands to yourself miss nymph. Bakugou said that you could understand us when we speak. My name is Kirishima." Your eyes softened from guilt as you looked at the bandaged area on his head. "Yeah, you hit me real good back there." The last thing you'd ever wanted to do was act barbaric like the humans, you couldn't control yourself though as you tried to protect your family.
An apologetic smile fell on your lips as your hand pressed against the glass where his hand lay. Kirishima couldn't help but admire you. The way your hair floated in the water, your eyes seeming to draw him in even further. "Y'know, the stories don't do you justice." Your head tilted in confusion before the golden-haired boy rushed to the glass. "My name is Denki; I was there when we captured you." Kirishima nudged him, shaking his head at his disregard. Before you could react, the doors swung open and Bakugou waltzed in. The two men immediately left the glass. "You think the Queen will let us use her for personal reasons?" Kirishima smirked as he nudged Bakugou's shoulder. "Fuck off, told you to stop speaking to me like that in the open. One day I'll be forced to put your head on a stick." "Well, today is not the day. That was a genuine question though. That is unless you want her of course." Bakugou shoved his friend away as Kirishima chuckled and left.
You floated hesitantly as Bakugou made his way in front of the glass. You could remember how rough he had been with you, treating you as though you were a man his size. His body finally met yours on the other side of the glass. He held a soft scowl as he watched you steady your body in front of his. "I wouldn't have had to knock you out if you wouldn't have run." he got straight to the point as you stared at him with animosity. You didn't reply, watching as he tried to find words to say. "You're in this tank until I can trust you. I also wasn't sure if you'd survive being out of water for too long." You were definitely a sight to be seen, a woman like no other. He wouldn't allow himself, or anyone else, to indulge though as you were here for a purpose.
You'd heard stories about the human men, how big and intimidating they were. There were no male nymphs, however, older nymphs intermingled with these men. Due to this, nymphs eventually changed genetically. This gave them the necessary body parts to reproduce with human males. You never understood how any of it worked; you couldn't imagine what made human males so different from females. Bakugou standing in front of you though, you completely understood now. The man oozed masculinity, his presence demanding your submission.
"I know you can understand what I'm saying, can you speak though." He asked as he studied your face. Truthfully, you could understand everything. Underwater, you couldn't speak in the human tongue though. Nymphs had their own ways of communicating underwater. You learned the human tongue from your sisters though. There was a small air pocket underwater that they'd take you to so you could learn. This was done under the circumstances in which you were possibly kidnapped.
Slightly shaking your head 'no,' you watched him debate internally. If he wanted you to use your powers, he needed to converse with you directly. He didn't have time to wait for your cooperation; his mother was approaching her final days. Without your help soon, she would pass prematurely. "If I let you out of this tank, will you survive?" he asked, his tone urgent. You nodded yes, raising an eyebrow at his sudden change of mind. "Will you be obedient? You'll rot in here if you try some cheap tricks again." His eyes bore into yours, seeking assurance. You hesitantly nodded yes before moving back from the glass. He moved to the side of the tank and pulled a lever, causing the water to begin draining. Avoiding the drain, you lifted your head, the first part of your body to be free of the water. You watched curiously as he monitored the process. As the water receded, the man continued to scrutinize you, his golden hair gleaming under the dim light.
Finally free from water, your clothes stuck to your wet body as you pushed your hair away from your face. Bakugou finally pulled the heavy door open, standing to the side so you could exit. Your heart thumped as you stepped out of the tank. The situation you were in was weighing heavily on your mind. You knew your nymphs were most likely losing their minds right now. With you being the last power-wielding nymph, they'd lost their greatest treasure. Despite the nymphs doing everything to keep you safe, you'd been disobedient and ruined everything for them.
As soon as you crossed through the door, Bakugou grabbed hold of your arms and pulled them behind your back again. Becoming frantic, your head spun around as you pulled on his hold. "Relax, I'm not letting you walk around without restraints. You busted my right-hand man's forehead open." Your guilty eyes avoided his as you finally stood still, allowing him to tie your hands. "Walk forward."
Bakugou walked you like a dog to another strange room. You took in all the details, still new to the surface land. You looked in awe. Your nymphs never mentioned how talented humans were. Stones, sticks, and a weird adhesive combine to create a large enclosure. Bakugou watched you skeptically as you gushed over his castle. "You got a name?" His voice broke the silence. "Yes." Your voice was soft, shy even, something unexpected as he hadn't believed you could speak. Your short answer made him raise an eyebrow. "...what is it?" Your head turned slightly to meet his gaze as you continued to walk. "My human name is y/n"
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Thank you for reading! This is just part one of this fanfic. It was meant to be only one part, but I couldn't help myself. I love details so you guys have plenty of imagery, so I stretched this one. I'm also working on a second part of "Self- Discipline" as it was requested by a few people in my notes. That should also be out soon! I appreciate the support and I hope you all stick around. I've got plenty of ideas to write out. I'll also be accepting requests eventually.
-Anonymous-vr
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