#but now let's be serious what if like echo got his own show (maybe one where he isn't as white as a sheet of paper)
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"relax, echo's on it" and what if I sobbed
#the bad batch#star wars the bad batch#this show would be perfect if only they weren't whiter than me#I LOVE ECHO SO MUCH every time he talks walks does he reminds me why he's my comfort character#arc trooper echo#tbb crosshair#clone trooper crosshair#my princess is elaborating trauma leave him alone#more reasons to write ab him#i'm rubbing my hands like a cartoon villain#and sobbing in my bed because they trust each other so much it's disgusting#but now let's be serious what if like echo got his own show (maybe one where he isn't as white as a sheet of paper)#im waiting patiently
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Hi, I was just wondering if you could do a bottom Tara x top g!p female reader fic?!
where Tara and reader are dating but when sam finds out she forbids reader to come over to their apartment the only time they see each is in college. So T and R are texting 24/7 and one evening things get a little spicy like they start sexting ig sending stuff too each other (if you get what I mean) then Tara decides to sneak out because she's missing reader (vice versa) and goes to reader's apartment and they do it for the first time also could it be soft smut and some aftercare maybe. It's just T and R being gay af!
You don't have to do this btw thanks either way!Bye have a good day/night :)
Rule Breakers
SMUT! Bottom Tara Carpenter x Top G!P Female Reader
Masterlist
Word count: 4.9k
“You are what?!” the scream Sam let out echoed through the apartment making absolutely everyone present, you and Tara included, flinch. This was not the reaction you hoped for, though Tara did warn you it would probably be like this. You had no idea how bad it would get.
“We are dating,” Tara repeated and you could tell by the way she reached out and grabbed your hand that she desperately needed to feel your touch to calm down. How could Sam not see that? See beyond the fact that she herself didn’t know you?
“Absolutely not! Tara you met her what? A month ago?” Sam was not accepting this at all. You could see the fury in her eyes as she looked at you as if you immediately threatened to hurt her sister. You knew what the reason was and you definitely couldn't blame her for it. But it still hurt to see she didn't trust Tara's judgment. Tara was an adult. She went through even more than Sam did and she just wanted to live her life, which included falling in love and dating, and you hoped one day moving in with you so you could build your future together.
Yeah. You were whipped.
“Four months, actually,” Tara rolled her eyes. The two of you met in college on the first day. You sat next to each other and immediately got along and fast forward three months, some time after she had opened up to you about how she was attacked and nearly killed by one of her closest friends, she just asked you out and you accepted it. You definitely developed a crush on her a lot sooner than that, and while that wasn't important at the moment you really believed Tara knew that all along. She just had a way of knowing just how you felt about her, in her own words, you were an open book in her eyes.
“That's not nearly long enough,” Sam pointed the finger at you, the fury in her eyes not fading even slightly.
“Hey, Sam wait!” Tara tried to stop her sister, but it was too late.
“Out right now. If I ever see you close to Tara things will not end well for you,” you had no doubts about just how serious Sam was and you saw Tara’s jaw dropping.
“What the fuck Sam?!” Tara screamed at her sister and quickly turned to you as you got up. “No this isn't what I want!” she jumped to her feet after you and stepped in front of you. “Hey, just listen to me, this isn't what I want,” it hurt you to see her like this, in pain and afraid, and her eyes already filling with tears.
For the first time since you came to the apartment you glared at Sam.
“Come on Sam give it girl a chance,” Chad tried to get her to see reason but a single glare shut him down.
“I will not risk Tara's safety,” Sam would not listen, in fact, she stood up as if to show you the way out. You swallowed the lump in your throat as Tara grabbed onto your hand to keep you from leaving, tears were falling down her face.
“I don't want this, please,” her hands trembled as she said that and for a moment you stopped glaring at Sam.
Your eyes softened and you gently brushed the tears off Tara’s face. “I know you,” whispered and leaned down to kiss her, Sam be damned. Tara relaxed into the kiss, realizing you weren’t going to leave her, and she kissed your back and poured all of her love into that one single kiss. When you separated you turned to Sam returning her glare without flinching for a single moment.
Sam was intimidating there was no doubt about it, but this was a lot more important. “You can try all you want, Sam, you will not scare me away. Got it? Drop the protective big sister bullshit because no one gets to make my girlfriend cry. Not even you,” the temperature in the room dropped when you said that and you could tell everyone just got on the verge of running away and you could not blame them.
Sam looked even more furious, she looked ready to spit fire and rain hell upon you, but you stood your ground. And to make your defiance even more clear you stepped around Tara and faced her sister head on with nothing blocking her path.
Sam remained silent for now, just glaring at you and you nodded, feeling like this ended about as well as it could. “Glad that's clear, I’ll see you later Sam,” you made your point clear, there was no reason to stick around because hanging out with Tara at this point, in this situation and in their apartment wouldn’t do any good for anyone, you and Tara especially.
~X~
She absolutely won the lottery. She would never try to even purchase a ticket because all her luck was just spent on getting the most amazing, badass girlfriends she could ever hope for. Did the way you talked back to Sam make her wet? Yes, yes it did.
Would she have gone to her room to handle that if everyone else still wasn’t at the apartment? Yes, she would have.
Would she do it tonight? Absolutely.
~X~
After what happened last week you and Tara kept seeing each other only at college, and that, more often than not, led to both of you just ditching the classes and getting coffee and croissants from a local bakery you both loved to visit. You did not expect that single decision to haunt you for the rest of the week. You both thought you were just that slick about it as you skipped several classes over the past week just so you spend time together and act like an actual couple instead of two people hiding from the world.
The world in this case being Tara's sister.
If Tara started failing classes because of her absence, well, that would be entirely on Sam.
~X~
Tara should have seen the trouble coming from a mile away. She just had too much fun today, walking with you in the park, grabbing breakfast, you even managed to catch a movie, and it was actually a good one! And to make things even better Tara couldn't keep her hand away from your own, constantly holding it as you went from one place to another.
And then the world just turned against her. She opened the doors and saw Sam expecting her with a stern look on her face, and arms crossed, sitting at the table in the kitchen.
She was in so much trouble.
“You were with her, weren't you?” well she couldn't exactly confess, so she would at least try to deny it. What were the chances that Sam had an actual proof Tara skipped classes with you?
“We were catching up on some lesson we missed, so classes got extended,” Tara lied a bit easier than she thought she would, but she figured the habits she picked up on while she was living with her mother were difficult to get rid of.
“Do not lie to me, Tara!” she flinched at Sam’s shout. “I went to pick you up and you weren't there. And when I asked your classmates if you even came to the classes, they told me neither of you showed up today!” Tara was caught pretty much red-handed and Sam knew it.
Tara sighed and sat down across the table. “You can't expect me to break up with her, Sam. I love her!” she was getting frustrated by Sam's behavior. Why couldn't her sister just let her go, just let her live her own life.
“Tara, you don't love her, you don't even know her properly! She could be dangerous,” this paranoia had to stop, because Sam saw everyone that tried to approach Tara as an enemy, as someone Tara needed protection from.
“Sam do you hear yourself?” Tara couldn’t deal with it anymore. “We are living with Quinn and she keeps bringing random guys to the apartment! Any one of them could be as psycho that just gets up one night and kills all three of us. You don't know those guys, yet you let Quinn bring them along!” Terra pointed out, exasperated by Sam not being able to see logic in her words, more importantly she was furious because Sam wouldn't trust her judgment.
She knew you. She had complete trust in you. And she got betrayed in a worse way than Sam did, after all while Richie was Sam’s boyfriend, Amber has been Tara’s friend for over a decade by that point.
“That isn't how Ghostface works and you know that,” Sam argued back. Ghostface this, Ghostface that. Tara was getting sick of it.
How could Sam not see it? “Ghostface isn't the only psycho, Sam! I can't live my life fearing that anyone I meet is going to turn out to be a psychotic killer. I want to live Sam, I fell in love and I want to enjoy that! I want to be with Y/N!” she desperately hoped Sam would just for once listen to her.
Yet Sam acted like a broken record. “We don't know her,” and Tara knew it wouldn’t matter how long you spent trying to get Sam’s trust. Sam would never know you ‘well enough’, Sam wouldn’t even try to get to know you.
“So what? I'm just supposed to fall in love with Chad? Because who else is left?” Tara demanded, but she might as well be talking in an entirely different language.
“This conversation is over, you’re grounded for a week,” Sam stood up and stormed into her room, leaving utterly flabbergasted Tara alone.
What a great way to spend the week off from classes.
~X~
Five days, that’s how long this torture’s been going on and Tara felt like she was about to lose her mind. And she was supposed to last an entire week?! The remaining two days felt like they would never end because each day seemed to drag out more than the previous one, even witconstant texting between the two of you. She turned in her bed for what felt like the hundredth time and her bed showed it. Messy twisted blanket, crumpled sheets, her head resting only on the corner of her pillow as she once again got on her back and stared at the ceiling. Sam was being unfair. Mindy had Anika, her and Sam were living with Quinn, who they didn’t know beforehand, and Tara was sure Sam had something going on with that Danny guy, and Chad was also occasionally flirting with girls! She was the only one who couldn’t have what she wanted.
Her phone buzzed and she immediately scrambled out of the blankets to take it. Curse her battery for needing to be charged! Tara quickly unlocked her phone and saw the message was from you.
Y/N: You need to see this!
Underneath it she saw the cutest Instagram reel of a puppy surrounded by ducklings.
Tara: 😍😍😍 They are so cute!
Your answer was immediate.
Y/N: Not as cute as certain someone, but it’ll have to do 😉
Tara fell back on her bed, a ridiculously wide smile already making its way to her face. Fuck, she missed you so much. ‘Yeah? Certain someone?’ she replied and her breath hitched when you sent her a selfie wearing a very soft looking shirt and grinning at her, and all of that could be manageable, if only Tara’s eyes didn’t immediately go to your lips and she realized it’s been way too long since she got to kiss you. She needed to feel your lips on her own, on her neck, on… fuck, what if you went lower. She bit her lower lip, studying your face, imagining your smiles, the way you looked at her.
Y/N: Tara? Baby? You’ve left me on seen for five minutes
That message temporarily snapped her out of her daydreaming. Or would it be nightdreaming? She never really thought of the logic behind the word. And she was desperately trying to ignore the desire gradually, scratch that, rapidly building inside of her.
Tara: I miss you
She finally replied and glanced back at your selfie as you typed the response.
Y/N: I kiss you too
Y/N (edited): I miss you too
Tara burst out laughing and quickly covered her mouth. ‘I saw it! Can’t take it back!’ she replied only to barely hold her laughter back when you just replied with ‘Shit.’ She smiled fondly, taking pity on you.
Tara: I want to kiss you too, so, so bad. I keep thinking about it and other things all the time
There, she confessed, knowing you were still prone to getting embarrassed and all shy about how affectionate Tara could get. Randomly kissing your cheek or hugging you when she knew you least expected was easily her favorite thing to do. The clear embarrassment on your face and the hitched breath, and especially the way you would freeze for a moment kept Tara entertained.
You had your own ways to mess with her, though she suspected you weren’t doing it on purpose. You would just go ahead and pull her chair out for her to sit, or bring her favorite coffee along when you would meet up and it was really messing her up to feel so cared for after years of neglect. It was yet another reason why she was so mad at Sam because she feared she wouldn’t be able to forgive her sister if Sam’s suspicious nature chased you away.
Y/N: Other things?
Hook, line, and sinker.
Tara opened her camera and switched to video. She winked at it and then turned it lower, to her waist, making sure to capture every detail as she unbuttoned her jeans and just brushed her fingers over the zipper, taunting you. She slowly panned the camera up her body while trailing the path with her hand. “Other things,” she was well aware of the sliver of her skin the camera caught when she pushed her shirt up. “Very specific things,” she whispered as seductively as she could, which, well, she didn’t have experience with seducing people, but she knew she’d get the desired effect with you as her hand brushing between her breasts moved the shirt in a way that emphasized her cleavage. And then she returned the camera to her face to show you she was lightly biting the corner of her lower lip.
She didn’t hesitate one moment before sending it.
You saw the message immediately, yet you didn’t respond, and Tara may have been stuck between getting nervous and completely confident in her charms. Minutes later she finally saw you typing.
Y/N: Tara
She could hear the exasperation in your message, yet she just sent ‘Yes, Baby? 🥺’
Y/N: Look at you acting all innocent
Yeah, she knew she was being rather mischievous. Even more so when she just replied with: ‘But I am all innocent’ she waited a moment, imagining you rolling your eyes and not immediately noticing the word play.
Tara: All innocent and inexperienced, just waiting for you to touch me
She put her phone under her shirt and took a photo, making sure there was just enough light to tease the details of her bra and sent it to you.
Your reply made her squeeze her thighs together. You sent her another photo, this time of you in front of a mirror, your hand covering the bulge in your pants and Tara caught herself wondering, and not for the first time, how big you were.
“Don’t tease me,” she sent you a voice message, whining as she cupped her breast, as her mind created the images of you taking her, fucking her. Instead of a message you actually called her and she resisted cursing because she was about to unzip her jeans and slip her hand inside. “Hey,” she whispered, trying to figure out if she could still do it.
“I’m teasing? Do you have any idea what you did to me?” your voice sounded strained an she knew you were in just as much of a dilemma as she was, only you seemed to be stronger than her, because if she didn’t do something about the lust she felt she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
“I know,” she admitted, biting back a moan as she slipped her hand into her jeans and teased her pussy over her panties. Fuck, she was already wet. “Y/N,” if only you were here with her, touching her, fucking her. “Are you hard?”
“What do you think?” you replied and she knew the answer. “I haven’t seen you in five days and the first thing you send me is that fucking video,” oh, you were cursing. She really got to you and you were definitely getting to her as she pushed her panties aside and slid her fingers through her wet folds.
“You started it,” Tara tried to defend herself.
“It was an innocent selfie!” you exclaimed just as she brushed the tip of her finger over her clit.
“Fuck, if we don’t stop neither of us will be innocent by tomorrow morning,” she moaned into the pillow, stuck between the urge to make herself cum and just sneak out and go to you.
“Shit, maybe we shouldn’t stop,” she could hear the faint sound of you stroking your cock and probably would have wondered if you could hear her too, but more importantly she made her decision.
“I’ll be there in ten,” she absolutely despised herself for pulling her hand out of her jeans and ending the call, but she would quickly get rid of that feeling, she just needed to get to you first.
~X~
You met in front of your apartment with Tara immediately jumping into your arms and kissing you, and you found yourself being pushed against the wall next to your doors as she deepened the kiss. “Fuck, finally,” she groaned, pressing her body against yours. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, and you felt her grinding against you, not even waiting to get inside.
The effort it took to actually slow down and take her to your bedroom should be studied, but you couldn’t let your first time be rough and quick. No, Tara deserved a lot more than that. “Easy, Tara, let’s just go inside,” you barely put your hand over your mouth to quiet the moan when she nibbled on your neck.
“I need you,” she whined, but allowed you to pull her into the apartment and toward the bedroom.
“I know, I know, I need you too,” you confessed, uncomfortably hard, and it only got worse when Tara pushed you onto the bed and straddled your lap. “But we can take as much time as we want, just take it slow and enjoy our first time instead of rushing through it.”
She felt it when she jumped into your arms, and now that she was straddling your lap. This was what she wanted for so long, yet now that she was looking at you the words you spoke echoed through her mind. Yeah, she would really enjoy that, just taking things slow for once. Slow and steady.
She leaned down, kissing you softly as she brushed her fingers over the fabric of your shirt, reaching up to your shoulders and squeezing lightly when you wrapped your arms around her. “You sure you’ll be able to hold back,” she asked when she pulled back, you were very hard after all.
You ran your fingers through her hair and looked her in the eyes. “I’m not holding anything back,” you promised and kissed her again. Your lips felt so soft, and Tara moaned, she truly missed this feeling. You slid your hand down to her neck and Tara let out a shuddering sigh as she lifted her head up and made it easier for you to kiss her neck. This was good, this was familiar. Making out with you always left her needy and this time wasn’t an exception as she felt the heat pooling in her core. “Y-Y/N,” she whimpered when you bit her neck slightly, just the way she liked it and Tara slowly began grinding on you. “Just like that,” she whispered as you dragged your tongue up her neck, soothing the burning skin.
“You’re so beautiful,” you were mesmerized by her, captivated by her beauty. Her breathy moans felt like the most beautiful melody ever created and you were the one causing them. You pulled her shirt up just enough to slip your hands underneath it. You felt the slight shiver of her body as she squirmed a bit at your touch.
“Your hands are a bit cold,” she giggled as your fingertips brushed along her sides. “Y/N, that tickles,” she smacked you slightly on the shoulder and saw the grin on your face. “Goofball,” she kissed you quickly.
“Sorry,” you muttered, only half-serious as Tara sat up and slowly, in the most tormenting, teasing way possible, took her shirt and bra off. “Fuck,” she looked gorgeous and there was no way your eyes weren’t giving your thoughts away because you couldn’t get them off her body.
Tara smiled at that, she’s shown you her scars before, so she wasn’t worried about your reaction, but this? She was definitely getting an ego boost from this reaction, and the way your cock twitched against her pussy. “You want me, Y/N? Take me,” she said it. “Do anything you want with me,” and in return she’d do anything she wanted with you and there were plenty of things she wanted, so many in fact she knew you couldn’t do it all tonight.
You cleared your throat and nodded as you sat up yourself and then flipped the two of you around so you were on top of Tara. You looked her in the eyes as you leaned down and, while cupping her breast, licked her already hard nipple. Tara took your own shirt and bra off and watched you as you sucked on her breast while she ran her fingers through your hair, encouraging you to keep going. Her other hand found your breasts and she brushed her thumb against your nipple.
Your tangled bodies moved together. Every touch of your hands left her skin burning, left her body more desperate for your touch, every single brush of your fingers drove her mad with desire. And she still didn’t take her jeans or panties off. Your hand went lower until your fingers tugged at her jeans, teasing her and making her moan. “Need you,” she whispered and felt you nodding as your unzipped her jeans and pulled them down.
“You’re soaking wet,” you grunted as you slowly rubbed her pussy over her panties. Tara dared to believe you could slip your cock inside her without any troubles with how wet she was if only you weren’t so big. You pulled your hand out of her jeans, making her immediately whine.
“Y/N, don’t tease me, please,” she begged, but luckily you just took a moment to take her jeans and panties off and strip the rest of your clothes as well.
“That’s your specialty,” you got back on top of her and pushed two fingers inside her pussy, and if she wasn’t as aroused as she was she would probably be embarrassed at how easily your fingers slipped in. Your fingers felt so good inside her as you continued kissing and caressing her body and Tara lay there, a moaning mess before your cock was even inside her. She reached down and wrapped her hand around your cock, there was precum leaking out of it as she rubbed the tip with her thumb. “Don’t, I won’t last if you do that,” you bit her shoulder a bit rougher than you intended. “I want to cum when I’m inside you,” you said while bringing her close to her orgasm.
“Me too then. Put it in me, I’m ready,” she spread her legs for you and kissed you as you blindly reached for the drawer next to your bed and grabbed the condom on top of it. If she didn’t quite literally tell you you would be having sex she would have teased you, but as it was she just wanted you to put it on and fuck her.
“Are you sure you’re ready?” you asked as you lined your cock up with the entrance to her pussy. And oh, she was ready, soaking wet, she probably wouldn’t even feel any pain. Tara nodded and kissed you once more as she hugged you tightly. She felt the tip of your cock sliding into her pussy and moaned, breaking the kiss and leaning her head back on your pillow.
“Y- Ah! Y/N!” she cried out your name, her fingertips digging into the back of your head, her back arching as you wrapped one arm around her and used the other to hold onto her hip.
“You’re taking me so well, Tara,” you whispered in her ear and finally, finally, she took all of you. She was close before, but now, feeling this full, she knew she was right on the edge.
You knew you couldn’t last for long like this. Tara’s warm, wet pussy engulfed you and you tried to focus on something else, to prolong this, but there was no way you could do that, so, you moved your hand from her hip to her clit and began rubbing as you slowly began thrusting into her, hoping you could get her to cum before you did. You would hold back until she cums, you promised that to yourself.
“I’m so close,” Tara moaned. “Look at me,” she pleaded, and you immediately complied as you looked into each other’s eyes, your bodies moving in the perfect sync as she began meeting your thrusts. Her orgasm kept building up, slow and steady, like your entire lovemaking was tonight, and with each thrust she could see you were getting close as well. “Y/N,” she moaned your name, no longer conscious of how much time you spent like that. She just knew that at one point she came, loud and hard, as your sweat covered bodies pressed together and she felt you cumming as well with a moan of your own.
She was absolutely spent. Satisfied with this being her first time. There would be other nights or days for longer lovemaking with multiple orgasms. In her head, and she truly hoped, in yours too, this was perfect.
Tara held onto you, feeling happier than she’s been in a long time. The blissful feeling consuming her entirely as you pulled your cock out and she glanced down at the filled condom. Maybe it was just her orgasm affecting her brain but she couldn’t help but think how one day, when you’re both ready, you’ll be cumming deep inside her. “Baby, Y/N,” she hummed as you caught your breath on top of her and she gently scratched the back of your head.
You lowered your head a bit and kissed her shoulder. “You were incredible,” you whispered, peppering her shoulder and the side of her neck with soft butterfly kisses. “Tara,” you whispered her name like it was your own, personal salvation. “I love you so much,” it wasn’t the first time you said those words, but it felt so good to hear them.
“I love you too, Y/N,” she tilted your chin up and kissed you on the lips, just as soft as everything tonight was. “I never thought sex would feel this good,” she admitted. There was no pain, no holding back, it consumed her entirely and all she could feel was your love for her as you took her innocence.
You chuckled. “Tell me about it,” you rolled onto your back and pulled Tara on top of you so you could rest while still holding her.
Tara had other ideas, turning both of you so you were lying on the side. “There, that’s better,” she whispered and leaned in, closing the distance between you. You would need to get up soon, clean up, take care of the mess you made, but she could bask in your warmth for a bit longer. Especially when you began rubbing her back, soothing her, keeping her feeling good. “I love how gentle and loving you were,” she whispered as she snuggled up to you, aware that, while she did absolutely enjoy the gentle sex she wasn’t opposed to getting a bit rougher sooner or later. She wanted to feel it all with you, to try everything and anything you were both comfortable with.
“It felt right,” you hummed, focusing on holding her and occasionally kissing wherever you could reach at the moment. While Tara showered you with love through words, you preferred touch, and it worked for both of you perfectly. Tara who was starved for touch, you who were starved for words of affirmation, I was a match made in heaven in her mind.
You stayed like that for some time, easily fifteen minutes, if not closer to twenty. Just cuddling and loving one another before you finally went to clean up, not leaving the shared shower until all the hot water had run out.
A/N: Well... Sam may have been a tiny bit over the top/out of character for the sake of the plot 🤣🤣
#perunrequests#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x female reader#tara carpenter x reader#tara x reader#tara carpenter#scream#jenna ortega x reader#x reader#x female reader#g!p reader#bottom tara carpenter#top reader
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Hi! I’m a big fan of your fics! I wanted to put in an angst/hurt/comfort request because I’m a sucker for angsty fics. So with Bangchan (or Changbin, I’ll let you pick, gosh I love them both) the reader has been getting weird cryptic messages from their ex and it’s turning into some serious stalker behavior. So one night as they’re walking home they can tell they’re being followed and they call Chan or Binnie to come pick them up. And there’s like mild confrontation but of course it always ends with comfort 🫣
Calling you clingy
BangChan x Reader
Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Suspense
Warnings: Mentions of stalking, verbal altercation, jealousy, swearing, mild violence, fluff ending
a/n: I hope you don’t mind I included this in my “calling you clingy series”!! I really like how this came out so please reblogs are really appreciated <3 (also thank you for appreciating my fics 🥹)
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You never thought your life could spiral into something out of a thriller movie. It started innocuously enough—texts from your ex, cryptic but seemingly harmless. A “hope you’re doing well” here, a “just saw this and thought of you” there. You blocked the number, not giving it a second thought.
But the messages didn’t stop.
They got worse.
“You think he’s better than me? He’s not. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“I saw you walking home yesterday. Looked cold—don’t forget your scarf next time.”
“We’re not over, Y/N. We never will be.”
Each time, they came from a different number. And each time, the messages left a pit in your stomach.
It was getting harder to ignore, and you couldn’t keep this from Chan anymore. When you finally worked up the courage to show him, you thought he’d take it seriously. You thought he’d help you feel safe.
You were wrong.
“I don’t get it!” Chan snapped, pacing back and forth in the small living room. His voice was sharp, his hands gesturing wildly as if the physical act of moving could help him make sense of things. “Why don’t you just block him?”
“I already did!” Your voice cracked with frustration. “Every time I block him, he just finds another number, another way to contact me!”
“Well, maybe you’re giving him a reason to think he can keep trying!” The words came out harsher than Chan intended, but he didn’t take them back.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your tone was defensive now, your blood boiling.
Chan threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know, Y/N! You tell me! Did you say something? Do something? Give him a reason to think there’s still a chance?”
Tears pricked your eyes, the sting of his accusation making your chest tighten. “Are you seriously blaming me for this?”
“Why are you even talking to me about it?” Chan’s voice rose, his frustration spilling over into anger. “Maybe you like the attention!”
You froze, his words hitting you like a slap to the face.
“Excuse me?” you whispered, your voice trembling with hurt.
Chan didn’t stop. His own insecurities—his jealousy, his stress, his need to control the uncontrollable—took over. “You’re always so clingy anyway! Maybe that’s why he can’t let go!”
The room fell silent.
Your wide eyes searched his face for any sign of regret, but all you saw was the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders rose and fell with every labored breath.
“Clingy,” you repeated, your voice hollow.
Before Chan could say another word, you turned, grabbing your coat and storming out of the apartment.
The cold air hit you like a wall, but it did little to cool the heat of your anger. Chan’s words echoed in your mind, each repetition cutting deeper.
Clingy. Maybe you like the attention.
You walked aimlessly, your feet carrying you far from the apartment. The city lights blurred in your vision, and the once-crowded streets felt eerily quiet.
Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without thinking, you pulled it out, expecting an apology from Chan.
It wasn’t him.
“Still think you’re safe? You’re not. He won’t protect you.”
Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of dread settling in your stomach.
“You can run, Y/N, but you can’t hide. I’ll always find you.”
You stopped walking, your breath hitching as you glanced around. The streetlights above flickered, and for the first time, you noticed how empty the street was.
The sound of footsteps echoed behind you.
Panic surged through your veins. Your hands trembled as you dialed Chan’s number, your fingers fumbling over the screen.
“Please pick up,” you whispered, your eyes darting around for any sign of movement.
The footsteps grew louder.
“Hello?” Chan’s voice came through the line, tight with tension.
“Chan, I think someone’s following me,” you blurted out, your voice barely above a whisper.
The line was silent for a split second before Chan spoke, his tone immediately shifting to one of urgency. “Where are you?”
You rattled off your location, unable to keep the tremor out of your voice.
“I’m coming. Stay on the line. Don’t hang up.”
You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Chan, I’m scared.”
“I know, baby,” he said softly. “Just keep talking to me. I’ll be there soon.”
By the time Chan’s car screeched to a halt at the curb, you were standing under a flickering streetlight, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.
The shadowy figure that had been trailing you lingered in the distance, but as soon as Chan stepped out of the car, the person darted into the darkness.
Chan ran to you, his eyes scanning your face and body for any signs of harm. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
You shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I don’t know what to do, Chan. He won’t stop.”
Chan pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. “I’m here now. He’s not going to touch you. I promise.”
As he held you, his mind raced. He couldn’t let this go on.
The next morning, Chan woke with a new resolve. While you were still asleep, he contacted a private investigator he trusted. He needed to find out who this person was and put a stop to it for good.
That afternoon, while you sat curled up on the couch in Chan’s hoodie, trying to calm the storm of emotions in your chest, he entered the room with a determined expression. He knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his.
“Y/N,” he started softly, his voice a mix of guilt and resolve. “I called someone—a private investigator. They’re going to help us figure out who this is, where they’re coming from, and how to stop them. I won’t let this continue.”
Your eyes widened. “Chan, are you sure? That sounds… expensive. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to fix this—”
“I want to,” he interrupted firmly. “I have to. I let you down yesterday. I let my jealousy and stress get in the way of being there for you, and I can’t forgive myself for that.” His voice broke slightly, but he steadied himself. “This isn’t about me. It’s about keeping you safe.”
Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were from relief, not fear. “Thank you,” you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck.
Chan held you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’re going to get through this together.”
Over the next few days, the investigator worked quickly, piecing together details from the messages. You provided everything you had: screenshots, numbers, the few times you’d caught glimpses of someone following you. Chan stayed by your side through it all, refusing to leave you alone even for a moment.
The tension between you two eased slightly, though guilt lingered in his eyes whenever he thought about his harsh words during the argument. Every night, he held you close, whispering reassurances that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.
Finally, the investigator called with a breakthrough.
“You’re not going to believe this,” the investigator said, his voice serious over the phone.
Chan put the call on speaker so you could hear. “What did you find?” he asked, gripping your hand tightly.
“Your ex wasn’t working alone,” the man said. “We traced the latest numbers back to a burner phone, and security footage from a nearby electronics store showed him purchasing it… with a friend.”
Your blood ran cold. “A friend?”
“Yeah. Someone who knows your daily routine. Someone who’s close to you.”
Chan stiffened. “What do you mean?”
The investigator hesitated. “I mean, this isn’t just a stalker situation. Your ex had help from someone who’s been feeding him information about you.”
Your mind raced, replaying every interaction you’d had over the past few months. A coworker? A neighbor? Someone from your social circle?
Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.
“Lena,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Chan frowned. “Your friend Lena?”
“She’s not just a friend,” you explained, your hands trembling. “We used to be really close. But after I started dating you, she got… weird. Jealous, maybe? She’d always talk about how she missed how things used to be before you.”
Chan’s jaw tightened. “Are you saying she’s been helping your ex?”
“It makes sense,” you said, your voice cracking. “She always knew where I’d be. She’s the only one who would know my new number after I changed it.”
The realization left you both stunned.
Later that night, Chan’s phone buzzed with another call from the investigator.
“We’ve confirmed it,” he said. “Lena’s been in contact with your ex for months. She was the one who gave him your work address, your new number, and even the times you’d be walking home alone.”
Anger flared in Chan’s chest, and he stood abruptly, pacing the room. “What the hell is wrong with her? Why would she do this?”
“She was bitter,” the investigator replied. “She felt replaced, like you’d abandoned her for your new relationship. She saw your ex as someone who felt the same way—someone who wanted to ‘take back’ what he’d lost.”
You sank into the couch, overwhelmed by the betrayal. “I can’t believe this. She pretended to care about me this whole time.”
Chan crouched in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. “She’s not going to hurt you anymore,” he said firmly. “Neither of them are.”
The next day, Chan worked with the investigator to ensure that the police were involved. Lena and your ex were both taken into custody, thanks to the overwhelming evidence collected against them.
When the police informed you that your ex had admitted to planning to confront you the night Chan came to pick you up, your blood ran cold.
But Chan was there, holding your hand through it all, his unwavering presence grounding you.
“You’re safe now,” he reminded you, his voice steady. “They’re not going to hurt you again.”
As the weeks passed, life slowly returned to normal. The weight on your shoulders lightened, and the constant fear that had gripped you finally loosened its hold.
One night, as you sat curled up on the couch with Chan, you finally voiced the question that had been lingering in your mind.
“Do you think I’m clingy?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
Chan froze, then turned to you with wide eyes. “What?”
“Back then,” you continued. “When you said I was clingy—”
“I didn’t mean it,” he interrupted quickly, his voice filled with regret. “I was stressed and angry and jealous, and I took it out on you. But it wasn’t true, Y/N. None of it was.”
He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze earnest. “You’re not clingy. You’re loving and thoughtful and everything I could ever ask for. And I’m so, so sorry I made you feel like you were anything less than perfect.”
Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief. “I love you, Chan.”
“I love you too,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms.
tags @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght
#stray kids#skz#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids fluff#stray kids x y/n#bangchan comfort#bangchan x you#skz bang chan#bangchan angst#bangchan x reader#bangchan fluff#bang chan#bangchan#chan x reader#skz angst#skz fanfic#skz imagines#skz scenarios#bangchan skz#stray kids comfort#straykids angst#stray kids imagines
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A Rose in Harlem
New York is supposed to be the city where people vanish into the chaos, but somehow, Simon Riley has found his way into your life. He’s managed to slip past your defenses, filling a void you didn’t realize was there. But when the closeness starts to feel too real, you pull back, desperate to hide your vulnerability. Simon, however, has already bared his own scars and expects you to do the same. Suddenly, your life feels like a romcom you never signed up for, starring the one man who’s impossible to ignore.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete, when no one else ever cared.
Masterlist
PART 4
The Sweetest Taboo
So, you're sleeping with your neighbor. This is fine. Totally fine. You're two consenting adults; no one needs to know. Except Simon seems to disagree.
You wouldn’t peg him as the "kiss and tell" type, but much to your duress, Simon is unapologetically the "kiss and show" type.
At the grocery store, he casually shows up at the same time, grabbing your bags like it’s second nature and walking you home. The stares from the neighbors make your face burn.
Morning run-ins in the foyer have evolved into something dangerously inappropriate. He refuses to let you leave without a kiss. Sometimes it’s just a fleeting brush of lips; other times, it’s deeper, lingering, and edging into the territory of lewd, making you shove his face away.
Then there’s the hoodie. One of his oversized ones, soft and smelling faintly of him. He bullied you into wearing it. You caved, of course, but it stays hidden in the back of your drawer when Ishta comes around—there’s no way you’re dealing with opening that can of worms.
It’s not just the overt gestures, though. It’s the way he lingers too long at your door after you’ve kissed him goodnight. Watches you through the fire escape, like he has every right to. Sitting there with his legs sprawled, a cigarette lazily dangling between his fingers, he makes no attempt to hide it.
You tried to put an end to that one. Bought curtains on a whim, feeling smug about the newfound privacy they’d grant you. But they mysteriously disappeared the day after you installed them—conveniently after you’d gone to work.
Simon played dumb when you confronted him, leaning casually against his doorframe.
“Dunno what you’re talking about, angel. Someone breaking in while you’re away? Maybe I should stick around your place and keep watch.”
His grin was infuriatingly smug, as it usually is.
It’s all becoming a little too real, a little too… loud. And yet, when you’re pressed up against him in the quiet of your apartment, his hands framing your face like you’re the only thing worth holding onto, you almost forget about his wrongdoings.
***
“Brought out the good shit tonight.”
Ishta grins, popping open a bottle of prosecco—the cheap, overly sweet kind she adores. You hold back the urge to grimace as she pours, passing you a glass.
“What's the occasion?”
“Me and Mr.Scottsman are official!”
She squeals lifting her glass high. You mimic the gesture, the clink of glass on glass ringing lightly through the room.
“Wow, it's so official you still won't tell me his name.”
You quip, rolling your eyes as you take a cautious sip. The sweetness of the wine hits immediately, and you fight the reflex to wince.
“John. Johnny.”
She sighs dreamily, hearts in her eyes.
“I call him Johnny because John is way too serious for my liking.”
You raise a brow at her,
"Sounds like you’ve got it bad, Ishta.”
She doesn’t deny it, swirling the prosecco in her glass like it’s some romantic prop, her grin widening.
"Oh, you have no idea. He’s got this laugh—it’s ridiculous—and he can’t make tea to save his life. But, ugh, he’s perfect."
You shake your head, taking another begrudging sip of the prosecco, already bracing yourself for what’s sure to be a night of gushing anecdotes about Johnny.
“Perfect,”
You echo with a laugh, setting your glass down.
“You’ve been together for how long now? A month?”
“Three weeks,”
Ishta corrects.
“But when you know, you know.”
You snort, leaning back against the arm of the couch.
“Yeah, sure. You’re gonna marry this man, huh?”
“Don’t tempt me,”
She says, her grin widening.
“He’s already invited to meet his family. Can you believe it? His family, and I’m just over here trying to not come off as a complete lunatic.”
“Well, you’re failing spectacularly.”
You tease.
She throws a pillow at you, laughing.
“Says the one who’s been mysteriously glowing these past few weeks. Care to spill why?”
You freeze for half a second, a sip of prosecco poised at your lips.
“Glowing? What are you even talking about?”
“Oh, don’t play coy with me,”
Ishta says, narrowing her eyes.
“You’re hiding something. Someone.”
You feign indifference, shrugging.
“Maybe I’ve just been using better skincare.”
“Bullshit. Spill. Who is it?”
She leans forward, her gaze piercing.
There’s no way you’re telling her. Not about Simon. Not about the fire escape. Not about the way his hands feel against your skin or the things he whispers in the dark.
“No one,”
You say firmly, hoping she buys it.
“And stop projecting your ridiculous love life onto me.”
Ishta squints at you, unconvinced.
“Uh-huh. Sure. For now, you’re off the hook. But mark my words,”
She wags a finger at you.
“I’ll figure it out.”
You laugh nervously, downing the rest of your drink.
You’re grateful for how easily distracted Ishta can be, her attention now fully locked onto the trashy dating show the two of you watch every Thursday. It’s a routine you’d both adopted more for the chance to mock strangers' poor life choices than for any genuine investment in the drama.
Occasionally, she’ll pipe up, her voice dreamy as she recounts the latest romantic gesture from Johnny, her “Mr. Scotsman." She compares him to the guys on TV, and each time, she insists that Johnny does it better. You can almost hear the wistful sigh in her voice as she talks about how much she adores him.
You smile at her, teasing lightly,
“Gonna end up as one of those military wives?”
Ishta laughs, a genuine, carefree sound that rings out in the space between you. She shrugs with mock indifference, but there’s a spark in her eyes.
"Maybe. I mean, he’s a loverboy under all that wildness, but yeah… I’d say I’ve got it bad.”
You smirk at her, shaking your head.
"You’re hopeless."
"And you’re one to talk,”
She fires back, leveling you with a knowing look.
“Sexy British neighbor still got you tied up in knots?”
You scoff, taking a sip of your drink to stall. The wine’s still too sweet, sticking to your tongue, but you focus on the tang that lingers at the edges.
“I’m not ‘tied up’ in anything. Haven't even spoken to him since the noise complaint situation.”
“Riiight.”
She side-eyes you, unconvinced.
“Something tells me that's not entirely true. You get this weird look on your face every time I bring him up.”
You try to keep a straight face.
“Maybe you’re reading too much into things.”
“Uh-huh.”
She leans back, crossing her arms.
“One of these days, I'll catch you slipping.”
You roll your eyes, desperate to redirect her attention.
“I think you’ve had too much wine.”
“Or not enough,”
She shoots back, taking another sip with a knowing smirk. She hums, like she just remembered something important.
“I forgot to tell you, Johnny invited you to come with me to meet his family.”
You make a face of confusion.
“Me? Why?”
“I talk about you a lot, believe it or not you are one of the most important people in my life.”
The statement takes you back a bit, makes you feel a twinge of guilt lying to her.
“But his family?”
“Well…”
She tilts her head, searching for the right words.
“They’re not exactly blood relatives. They’re his squad, I think that’s the term he uses. He trusts them with his life, so he sees them as family—or the closest thing to it. Something like that.”
It’s her turn to hesitate, her fingers absently trailing the stem of her wine glass.
“Anyway, he thought you might want to come along. Besides,” She adds with a grin, peeking up again.
“It'll be fun. Think about it! Drinks, charming military men, and me as your entertainment. What more could you want?”
With Simon in your life, you think to yourself, you find yourself wanting for nothing lately—except maybe a little less suffocating attention.
“Yeah, what more could I want.”
You say aloud, masking the weight of your thoughts with a light laugh.
Ishta beams at your answer,
“That’s the spirit! You’ll see—it’ll be good for you. And hey, if nothing else, you can help me judge Johnny’s friends. Who knows, maybe one of them is a secret disaster like the guys on this show.”
The conversation shifts back to the TV, her playful commentary dragging you out of your head. But even as you nod along, your mind is already working on an escape plan.
You’re just gonna text her some excuse when the day comes. She’ll understand. Probably.
***
“How can you breathe in these?”
You groan, tugging at the waistband of Ishta’s skin-tight leather pants as she twists and wiggles, trying to pull them up.
“Breathing isn’t a priority here.”
She huffs, planting her hands on her hips and giving a final shimmy.
“Looking good is. Besides,”
She admires herself in the mirror.
“Johnny will love it.”
“Yeah, he probably cares more about how easy they’ll be to take off, Ishta.”
She grins, running her hands down the smooth fabric.
“Yeah. My man, the most efficient guy I know.”
You laugh, shaking your head as she strikes a dramatic pose.
“Efficiency—truly the cornerstone of romance.”
“Don’t knock it,”
She quips, spinning around to face you.
“He’s got it down to an art. Makes him a great lover.”
“Ishta.”
“I mean seriously, when I'm running late he knows exactly what to-”
“Ishta!”
“What? Someone has to get laid here, and it sure isn't you!”
You groan in protest, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at her. She ducks, her laughter ringing out as she returns to inspecting her reflection in the mirror, twisting to check out the back of her pants.
“I think my butt’s getting bigger.”
She declares, completely unfazed.
“Aren’t we running late?”
You ask, exasperated.
“We’re fine. He’s getting us an Uber.”
She replies, adjusting the waistband of her pants with a smug little smile.
“To Brooklyn? Ouuu, big money.”
You tease, rolling your eyes as you grab your bag.
She grins, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“I just got him trained right. I'll show you how to do it when you get your own man. Or woman. Or anyone.”
Before you get to have your say her phone dings, and she grabs her keys.
"C’mon, Uber’s here."
You give her one last look before following her out the door, ready for whatever insanity lies ahead.
***
The bar you stand outside of is dingy and small, a stark contrast to the sleek black SUV Johnny arranged for Ishta and you. You raise an eyebrow, already feeling out of place.
“Are you sure this is the place?”
You ask, rocking side to side in your heels, feet already hurting.
“Too good for it?”
Ishta teases.
“No, just… aren’t we a little overdressed?”
You reply, glancing down at your outfit. Her red-bottoms are going to get ruined by the sticky floors, and your top is way too low-cut for a place like this.
Ishta smirks, giving you a look.
“You’ll be fine. Besides, if anyone stares for too long, the guys will probably scare them off— if they are anything like Johnny describes.”
And so, you step hesitantly into the grungy spot, thinking of what shitty liquor you need to get you through the night.
The bar is dim, louder than you expected, the scent of stale beer and fried food heavy in the air. Ishta leads the way with her usual confidence, weaving through the mismatched tables and chairs. You follow, heels catching on the sticky floor, your stomach tightening as she heads toward a table in the back.
That’s when you see it: the large black hoodie. The person wearing it is turned away, broad shoulders hunched slightly. Something about the way they hold themselves makes your chest tighten. You tell yourself it can’t possibly be him. The odds are ridiculous, almost laughable.
And yet, your feet falter.
Johnny spots Ishta first, lighting up with a grin so wide it makes his eyes crease at the corners, laughter lines deepening across his face. There’s a boyish enthusiasm in the way he waves her over, unrestrained and unabashed, like a pet spotting its owner after a long day apart.
You remember her mentioning once, in passing, that he was born the year of the dog. It’s funny how fitting that feels now. Loyal, eager, a little too earnest. He all but bounces out of his seat, the movement causing a ripple of attention to shift across the table.
The ridiculously pretty man seated next to him glances up first, his expression brightening with easy charm. Across from him, an older man with a beard you could only describe as unnecessarily dramatic turns and nods politely.
Then, the hoodie moves. Your stomach plummets.
Simon.
His expression is unreadable, but the sight of him freezes you in place, and before you realize it, you’re standing there looking like a deer caught in headlights. The rest of the table follows his gaze, looking at you with various degrees of curiosity.
Ishta grabs your arm.
“Oh my God. Girl, is that your man? What’s wrong? You can’t back away now!”
She says in a low voice, dragging you forward before you can recover.
“That is not my man,”
You hiss back, but it does nothing to stop her relentless pull.
Johnny grins as you both approach, his voice warm and thick with his accent.
“Almost scared her off, Ghost.”
Ghost?
Your eyes flick to Simon. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say a word.
Johnny, takes over the introductions.
“This is Simon. Don’t mind him, wasn’t properly socialized as a bairn.”
There’s some shifting around as the group makes room. To your dismay, Simon stays tucked into one side of the booth, leaving Kyle and Price to scoot out. They pull over chairs from a nearby empty table, and you find yourself awkwardly squeezed beside Simon while Ishta takes the seat across from you.
“Finally nice to put a name to the face.”
Ishta beams at Simon, and you can see the faint flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he doesn’t respond. She laughs when Johnny makes a confused face, giving a brief rundown to the table.
“She says you haven't seen each other since that incident.”
Ishta waves her glass in Simon's direction.
Simon leans back in his seat, mask still up.
“Avoids me like the plague, she does. Must’ve left quite the impression.”
Kyle snorts, leaning forward with an amused grin.
“That’s just his thing. Simon’s got a talent for being a nuisance, don’t you, mate? Knows exactly how to make people’s lives hell.”
“Only when they deserve it.”
Simon replies smoothly.
The table chuckles, but you stay quiet. His knee bumps yours under the table and you shoot him a sharp glance. He doesn’t even look your way, focused instead on swirling his drink he hasn't touched. You drink more than you probably should, hoping it’ll dull the awkwardness.
Thankfully, the rest of the table carries on without issue, their conversation flowing easily.
“Military, huh?”
You ask eventually, your voice quieter than intended.
Simon doesn’t look at you, but Johnny leans in with a grin.
“Yeah, we're stationed here for a while, so get used to seeing my handsome face around.”
The ease in his tone does little to settle the tension twisting in your chest. Simon doesn’t so much as flinch, remaining a stoic, unreadable presence. His silence feels deliberate, heavy, but Johnny’s brightness seems determined to lighten the mood.
“Maybe you’ll even get used to this one,”
Johnny adds playfully.
“Though I wouldn’t hold your breath. He’s got the personality of wet cement.”
That makes you laugh a little, along with the rest of the table. Younod toward Simon.
“So… Ghost. That’s a call sign?”
Simon hums, noncommittal, leaving Johnny to fill the silence.
“Wish I got something cool like that,”
Johnny says, shooting Simon a look that’s both teasing and fond.
“Guess he earned it, scary bastard.”
You glance at Simon again. His face gives nothing away.
Ishta leans over and whispers something into Johnny’s ear, her lips brushing against his ear with a playful familiarity. Whatever she says prompts a crooked grin to spread across his face, his blue eyes lighting up with mischief.
The two of them fall into their own little world, lovebirds whispering and laughing softly, entirely lost to anyone else at the table. Their giddy exchange contrasts sharply with the tension simmering between you and Simon.
You shift in your seat, feeling the press of his knee against yours again. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but the contact makes your pulse quicken. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, wondering if it’s intentional. If he notices your reaction, he doesn’t show it.
Across the table, Price and Kyle keep the conversation flowing, their camaraderie effortless. You envy the ease they seem to find in this dynamic, the sense of belonging that eludes you in this moment.
Eventually, you decide to call it a night.
“Think I’ll head out, guys.”
You say, grabbing your bag. You glance toward Ishta, but she’s too busy twirling a strand of Johnny’s hair between her fingers, practically sitting in his lap.
Kyle stands, reaching for his jacket.
“Want me to walk you home, love?”
Before you can answer, Price butts in.
“Think Simon’s closer. Said you're neighbors, right?”
Your mouth goes dry.
“Oh, uh. Yeah.”
“He'll take you home. Don't need Kyle chasing up your dress.”
Simon finally looks at you, dark eyes unreadable. Without another word, he gets up.
***
The train ride back is painfully silent, tension coiling thick between you. Simon doesn’t make small talk, doesn’t fill the awkward space with meaningless words, and you can’t decide if you’re grateful or annoyed.
When you finally reach your apartment, you stop at the door, fumbling with your keys. You unlock it and step inside, turning to offer a polite, “Goodnight.”
Before you can close the door, Simon’s boot wedges into the frame.
“No kiss goodnight?”
He murmurs, pulling down his mask, voice low.
“Do you always have to be like this?”
You mumble, leaning forward and tilting your head up.
“You like it.”
He replies, pressing his scarred lips against your glossed ones.
The kiss lingers in your mind longer than it lasts, the warmth still spreading through your limbs. He pulls away, slipping his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. You stand with the door still open,
“Ok, well, goodnigh-”
“Not gonna invite me in for a drink?”
The way he says it—like he’s giving you the option, but he knows exactly how this game goes—brings a rush of heat to your cheeks.You hesitate for a moment, the weight of the night pressing down on you, but it hits you then—you’ve been waiting for him to make this move. Simon knows exactly how to push just enough, always teetering on the line between being too much and just enough.
You tilt your head, playing the game, your voice teasing.
“I don’t believe in letting strangers into my place, Ghost.”
His jaw tightens at the name, a flash of something flickering behind his eyes, but he recovers quickly, scanning your face with a quiet intensity.
“Hit your head, angel? The name’s Simon, remember?”
“Hmm,”
You cock your head, a playful smirk curling on your lips as you tease,
“Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell, sorry.”
Simon’s expression shifts, eyes narrowing just a fraction as his lips curl into a grin.
“No? Thought you’d remember it with how many times you say it when I’ve got you bent over that couch.”
“Simon!”
You gasp with a smile.
“Glad to see your memories back, love. Had me worried there for a moment.”
His voice drips with smug satisfaction, fingers creeping around your waist as you step backward into your apartment. His movements mirror yours, closing the distance, the same familiar rhythm between you two. Except this time, the dance ends in your bed, bathed in silvery moonlight that filters through the windows, casting shadows and soft glimmers over the room.
What he says to you in that space, the things he says are as depraved as they are tender, sinful words laced with something softer, gentler. And in that moment, you realize they’re the sweetest things Simon is capable of offering.
Lying on his chest, you let your thoughts drift, his sparse chest hair tickling the side of your face. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat drums against your ear as your fingers trace lazy circles on his skin. His hand mirrors yours, gently skimming the small of your back in slow, soothing motions.
You enjoy these moments just aas much as the more heated ones—maybe more. They feel almost domestic, like peeking through the keyhole of something you tell yourself you can’t have. But for now, it’s enough. It fills that quiet loneliness you feel some days.
Simon presses a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his lips lingering there for a beat longer than you expect. It feels like him savoring the closeness he so rarely allows himself.
“Mind if I sleep here tonight?”
His voice low and casual.
Your body goes stiff before you can stop it, and his hand on your back stills.
“Oh,”
You say, forcing a laugh that cracks at the edges.
“Didn’t think you’d grown tired of your bachelor setup. What happened? Mattress on the floor finally giving up on you?”
Simon hums, unbothered, his fingers resuming their lazy path.
“Figured I’d upgrade. You offering?”
Your heart stutters in your chest, and you sit up quickly, putting a small but deliberate distance between you.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
He doesn’t move, watching you with hooded eyes, his expression calm, unreadable.
“Why not? Thought we were comfortable now.”
His tone is deceptively light, but you can hear the challenge beneath it.
“I don’t sleep well with someone else in the bed,” You say, crossing your arms, covering your bare chest.
“It’s just a thing—I’m used to having my space.”
“Space, huh?”
He sits up and leans back against the wall, hands clasped behind his head, looking entirely too at ease.
“Didn’t seem to need space a few minutes ago, angel.”
You frown, heat rising to your face.
“That’s different. Sleeping is… it’s personal.”
He smirks, tilting his head slightly.
“And what we just did isn’t?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your irritation in check.
“You know what I mean, Simon.”
“Not sure I do,”
His tone is playful, but there’s a stubborn edge to it now.
“Seems to me like you’re just makin’ excuses.”
“I’m not.”
The words come out sharper than you intended. You sigh, running a hand through his short hair, an apology of sorts.
“It’s just… I’m not ready for that.”
“A lil sleepover?”
He tilts his head. Before you can respond, he grabs your face with one hand, his fingers pressing against your cheeks to make your lips pout.
You yank your head away, sucking your teeth in frustration.
“You’re impossible.”
He grins, leaning back against the wall like he’s won something.
“Am I? Or are you just makin’ this harder than it needs to be?”
“Simon,”
You snap,
“It’s not about being hard or easy. It’s about boundaries. Respecting them.”
“Boundaries?”
He raises an eyebrow, the smirk slipping just slightly.
“Since when have we had those?”
Never, you think to yourself. It's a little distressing if you think about it too long, letting a man have such sway on you.
He pulls you closer, his thick arms wrapping around you with an ease that feels as natural as it is intrusive. You don’t resist, though. Instead, your fingers trace the inked lines on his forearm, a distraction, an excuse not to look him in the eye.
“Think you got one more in you?”
His voice is low, dipping into something softer, coaxing.
“I’ll be out your hair after that.”
You can’t help the faint smile that tugs at your lips, even though you hate yourself for giving in so easily. It’s always like this with him—pushing, pulling, finding that sliver of space where you’re weak enough to let him in.
“Yeah,”
You murmur, leaning just slightly into his touch,
“Think I do.”
His lips curve into a grin, satisfied, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead, he pulls you into his lap. And just like always, he gets exactly what he wants.
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#he never got spoiled as a child so if you give him an inch he will take a mile#a rose in Harlem#simon riley#simon ghost riley#simon riley x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x reader
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Old Habits Die Hard [6/?]
Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter
Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader
Genre: Historically accurate Aemond, mature! so please MDNI‼️
WC: 4648 👀
Summary: When new emotions sparked within our Targaryen prince, he could not help but to doubt himself. Afraid of his past, his present, and his future. Especially when it comes to love and his doe.
“Hold still,” her chuckles echoing in his tent.
Aemond has lost count on how many moons have passed. He adapted his new life with the wildlings, and he was surprisingly content. Especially when she is there to help him at every step he takes.
Aemond is also still intent on maintaining his clean-shaven appearance.
He sat down obediently as his doe carefully shaved his little overgrown beard that he disliked. The knife she held sometimes got a little too close that put him on edge, dodging it away for a second.
“Do not cut me,” he said in worry.
“I won’t gosh— if you keep moving I might put out your other eye,” she joked.
“That is not funny,” he glared at her, actually offended.
“Then stay still.”
Her words made Aemond sigh, adjusting his seat, “You are horrible at this,” he muttered under his breath. “Oh I know. I am aware I’m not a skilled hairdresser from your castle. You should take me there one day. Maybe I can learn the art of shaving from your hairdresser,” she giggled in return, not taking any offense from him.
“I actually will one day,” Aemond replied, trying to mask how much he liked the idea of taking her back in Kings Landing. How she will fit into his customs, wearing dresses like a lady in court. Yet he wonders how she will run or show her boyish charms in those kinds of clothing. Will she run in the fields of godswood coming home with her dress stained with the wet soil. Will she dance with him if he asked?
“Would ya?” His doe asked amusingly with a hopeful smile.
“And not only you’ll learn from my hairdresser, I shall give you silk dresses the same way as the ladies in court. I’ll ensure they’ll give you the finest silk they have—,” Aemond answered, being genuine about his answer. He took her free hand in his, “I shall ensure you will be well fed, and buy you anything you wish for in the world.”
“A way to repay your debts, snow haired?” The she-wildling joked once again, not realizing how dead serious he was with his words. He would buy her anything she’d want to. “Or maybe I just want you to come with me.”
He failed to sound nonchalant, catching her attention as Aemond looked down to her hand in which he was holding with his. His fingers felt how rough and calloused his doe’s fingers were. He wanted to take care of her, prevent her from hard work or any work that might endanger her life. He wanted her fingers to be smooth and gentle, as proof that she is well taken care of by him.
“I will be there when we march to the wall one day,” reassuring him with her gentle words. “I do not want you to stop at the wall.”
“What lies beyond the north, Aemond? I am a wildling, I do not fit with your customs. I will not fit into your world.”
“You do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
His stern and sure words made her heart warm. Her bright smile revealed her pearly white teeth, and as she grinned, her eyes shaped into upside-down crescents. 'You are stubborn, Aemond,' she remarked, gently guiding the knife along his jaw. 'And weird,' she added with a soft giggle, which made him smile in return, letting go of the tension he had in his shoulders.
His doe slowly took her hand away to hold his jaw still, resuming shaving him. Aemond felt a pang of disappointment but he knew she had to. She was gentle enough to shave off his facial hair, leaving stubbles across his jaw since she told him that she was afraid to cut him unintentionally.
“There ya go,” she said, stepping back inspecting him with a smile. She reminisced about their first meeting, where he had a luscious long, silvery hair that cascaded longer than her own. Now, as she gazed at the man seated before her, she observed the transformation. His Targaryen lineage was unmistakable, his once-flowing locks now trimmed into a shorter style that framed his face. A hint of stubble added a rugged charm to his appearance, intensifying his masculine features even further.
Aemond smiled when he saw how proud she was with her masterpiece’. As long as she likes it, Aemond was sure he will. “Do I look like a prince again?” He asked, just wanting to talk with her further. “You certainly do. A fine prince, I must admit.”
“A compliment from a wildling? Is the world ending tomorrow?” He hummed with amusement, teasing her further.
“If the world is ending tomorrow, what’s your last wish, Targaryen?” Stepping back from him, she puts her knife away as she keeps her eyes on his face. A mischievous smile plastered on his face. “I wish to see you in a silk dress.”
She scoffed, “In your dreams.”
Aemond laughed at her answer.
“Oh I will dream of you tonight.”
A pause.
He saw how a bashful smile tugged her lips as she turned to face him, “I will look foolish in a silk dress. I am a spearwife, not a lady at court.”
“I am not jesting. I would die to see you in one.”
“So you would laugh at me?”
He knew that she was jesting but he couldn’t help but to grave at her words.
“Quite the opposite, my lady,” he said as he stood up on his feet.
Flattered, she smiled. “Surely I am a free woman but I am no lady–. I eat with my hands, Aemond–. And I am sure the ladies at your castle don’t do that.”
Oh how he could stare at her smile for hours.
“You will look splendid in a dress,” he said sincerely, stepping closer to her. “But I feel splendid in my usual attire. I didn’t come from the south like you– besides, dressing like any of the men around here does not make me less of a lady.” Aemond couldn’t help but to smile knowing how different the free folk’s custom were comparing to westeros. His doe is free to dress as she pleases, hunt like a man, swear like a man. Even if it was different on how he was raised to view maidens, he didn’t think of his doe any less. She was fierce and straightforward. Too Stubborn and loud. But she could be gentle and clever even if it appears rarely.
Aemond couldn’t help but to adore her. “I knew of that. I did not say you were less of a woman, but a man couldn’t help but to imagine a pretty woman with a nice silk dress.”
“And sometimes the way we clothe is how we preserve our identity. I am a free woman, I am a spearwife, I am a warrior, and I would like to stay that way.”
“And I will accept all of you.”
Stopping right in front of her as his body gently collides with hers as his tall body looms over her smaller form. “You will look splendid in any clothing, but those ladies in the south will look terrible in yours,” the one eyed prince complimented his companion as he looked her up and down. Even with only an eye, he could read her like a book. How his doe’s eyes softened, her cheeks slowly turning into a light shade of red as her lips slightly smiled, her pretty teeth evident and could make any man in Westeros melt in a second. “Are you trying to woo me, snow haired?” Shoving him away with a laugh.
That’s where he knew he had her.
She was too flustered to even face him.
Stepping away from him, Aemond saw how his doe exited the tent without a word. Letting her presence linger as he stared at the entrance. His heart thumped, even just the thought of her made him warm. It has been awhile since he felt this way. And he intends to keep this feeling alive. For she made him alive. Resurrected.
Her tribe was nomadic, it was quite common for a few wildling tribes she said. Aemond listened to her as they walked through the snowy lands of the field. Until they find the perfect spot, they shall camp together. Even if she kept reassuring him that they will march back to the wall soon, Aemond couldn’t help but not to think of it when all he could think of being with her.
Being free with her.
Train with her,
Hunt with her,
Even as simple as walking side by side with her as they venture through the fields and mountains with her tribe.
The sky was dark as they lit a fire in the middle of their camp. It was simple, but lively. The wildlings sang and feast, childrens running around as the night was filled with their laughter. The songs they sang were foreign to his ears, but they were beautiful. They sang with their heart; it was full of life. His eye couldn’t tear off from her, who was laughing with her friends, singing with joy as the fire warmed them in the cold night.
They were a family.
Something he craved for since he was a child.
Aemond knew his mother tried his best while his father was…detached. He longed for the warmth a family has as a whole. He wished to feast with laughter with his siblings. Laughter and warmth. Not silence and resentment. Even in secret, he longed for the warmth of his half-sister to her children. Yet his mother spoke nothing but words filled with venom about her half-sister and her family.
Now he wondered if any of that were true.
He only had Vhagar
And even the stranger took her away from him.
Looking up, he saw her standing across the fireplace.
She smiled underneath the moonlight.
He smiled at the sight, yet he wondered if the stranger would take her away one day.
It scared him.
“Why so gloomy, Targaryen?”
Gruff sitting down beside him
“It is nothing, today’s training has really worn me out,” he muttered. Slowly regaining back to the present, leaving his memories in the back of his mind. “Yeah? Not because you can’t bed my friend over there?” Nudging Aemond as he gave the prince a glance at her.
Aemond stared at the red hair, giving him a look.
“I shall not disrespect her like that.”
Gruff could only scoff, “I’ve caught ya undressing her with that purple eye of yours–,”
“–I do not undress her with my eye–,”
“–Oh I think you do. I bet you have multiple wet dreams of her–,”
“–Do not taint her like a common whore–,”
“–A common whore? Mate, I bet she wants to bang you as much as you d–.”
Aemond groaned and stood up, intending to leave this conversation.
“We are free to bed anyone we want. You are not in the south anymore,” Gruff exclaimed to Aemond. As much as Aemond would like to leave that red haired wildling to his own thoughts, he couldn’t help but to speak, “But it does not hurt to respect one.”
“Respect? This is not about respect, it is about passion and freedom!”
“But is it respect if I force her to bed with me?” Aemond hissed in frustration, conflicted with his desires and morality. “Force? You know well she will not reject you, one eyed,” Gruff said with amusement. “You do not know that. I do not know that, no one in this cursed world knows that! No one knows except her.” Running his finger through his hair, he stomped away from the scene wanting to be left alone with his own thoughts.
He was not good with wooing or romance. It came to sense that he never really knew how to woo one. That time in his tent, it just slipped from his tongue and if he were to reenact it, he was sure he would fail. The first time he bedded a woman when he turned ten-and-three.
And that was not based on his consent.
Fucked that same whore, believing that she was the only one who understood his body and vulnerability for she was the one who took him for the first time. Convincing him that she was the only one who could take pleasure out of him. Before Aegon ruined it– did he? Or that he needed Aegon to humiliate him so he could break that cycle? Was it a blessing in disguise? He does not know.
Then Alys,
A story he both regretted and cherished.
He didn’t mean to hurt her at first.
Yes she was a war prize but she was his shelter when the world turned his back on him. She was his ally, helping him through the war. Didn’t he plant his seed in her? She was full of his heir when he last saw her, kissed her. Or devoured her. She knew of the future, then did she not know that he was about to die? Did she intend to send him to his death?
Did she keep his child?
Did he put his seed in her based on her consent?
Conflicted with his morality and mistakes, Aemond kicked the snowy ground at every step he took, away from the camp. Away from her.
Afraid that his desires would take over and hurt her.
Like how Aegon hurted him,
Like how that whore used him,
Like how he hurted Alys.
He will never forgive himself if he does.
“What did Gruff say to you now?”
d Aemond turned around and saw her emerging from afar. She walked towards him as her torch casting a warm, golden glow that cut through the encircling darkness. The light from the torch was like a miniature sun blazing, lighting his way in the dark. In that moment, the torchlight became a beacon of hope and warmth for him.
“He did not say anything to me,” Aemond lied.
“Yeah he definitely did not say anything to you. And you're probably out here alone cuz you wanted to take a piss,” her words sarcastic and unimpressed with his lie. “He did not say anything, I just needed some time alone,” he said sincerely, trying to convince her. The she-wildling stepped closer to him as her torch gave them both a warm glow. “You do know I can cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent, right?”
Caught off guard, Aemond could only let out an amused scoff, “I know you can.”
Aemond looked away nervously as he realized how deep she was staring at him as the winds of the north gently blew her locks.
“Come with me,” encouraging him to follow as she walked ahead lighting the way with her torch.
“Where to?
She does not say as she kept leading him away from the camp, before finally stopping just behind a giant rocks since they camped not far from the mountains. He paid attention to how she stabbed her torch in the ground before sitting down behind a rock. “Sit down,” she ordered, patting an empty spot beside her.
“Quite a distance for only asking me to sit,” he teased.
“I want to show you something. They should be here at any moment.”
“They? The undead?”
“No! Heavens, no,” she chuckles.
Then he heard heavy footsteps. Heavier than any footsteps he heard coming from a man. The footsteps were slow, heavy, yet steady. “Keep yourself hidden, okay?” She said as she peeked through the rock. Aemond curiously followed her wondering what is it that she’d like to show him.
The colossal figure emerged from the shadowed mist, and that was the first time he laid his eyes on a giant. He had heard tales of such creatures—myths whispered around campfires and recounted by old maesters and history books—but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer scale of this living legend. The giant moved with surprising grace despite his size, each step causing the ground to tremble subtly. “Is that a giant?” He asked in awe, not tearing his eyes away from the creature.
“They reside in the mountains, and they usually come down when the sky is dark. Incredibly shy creatures I might say, but can be very angry and aggressive if they feel threatened. I don’t want us to scare them away,” she whispered as she rests her chin on the hard cold surface of the rock that hid them from the giant’s view.
“Have you ever personally encountered one?”
“No, not directly. My father has, and he said that they were intimidating but they have a sense of dignity in them. Although they appear stoic, they are far from aggressive when you treat them kindly. Us wildlings have lived side by side with them and respected their space.”
As he sat there listening, a dawning realisation unfurled within him. He felt a deep sense of fondness for her, it struck him with a gentle but undeniable force, filling him with a warmth that surpassed even the glow of the firelight. In that tranquil space, he understood that his feelings for her went far beyond mere admiration. The way she stared at the giant, he saw how much she adored them.
As the giant stomps back up the rugged mountain slopes, his colossal form gradually swallowed by the encroaching mist, she turned to look at him one last time. Her pretty eyes boring into his, “I have another place to show you.” She stood up with a smile, her movements almost as seamless as the flickering dance of the torch she held. Without a moment’s hesitation, she began to jog away, the rhythmic thud of her boots against the earth blending with the crackle of the torch’s flame. Aemond couldn’t help but to follow her along, curious what wonders she’d like to show him.
Following her torch through the darkness of the night, he saw how she lead him into a cave near the mountains. The flickering light danced across the rough walls, revealing glimpses of ancient stones as she ventured further into the depths. He followed closely behind, each step echoing softly in the confined space, the only illumination coming from the small, steadfast flame that illuminated her path ahead.
As they ventured deeper into the cave, the chill of the outer world gradually receded, replaced by a gentle, welcoming warmth in the heart of the cave. Before them lay a natural hot spring, its steaming waters glowing with an inviting warmth. The heat radiated outward, a feeling of comfort that wrapped around him like an old friend.
“I found this the other day,” she said, placing the torch gently in the ground of the old stones of the cave. A pregnant pause, he saw how she turned around to face him once again. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she slightly shivered as she exhaled a nervous breath; an unusual demeanour he finds her in.
“I heard that you are afraid to bed me.”
Aemond’s heart stopped for a moment.
She began to untie the intricate knots securing her layered coat.
“I am no animal”
He could feel his heart racing.
As the coat loosened, the heavy folds of fur and cloth fell away, a layer of sheepskin that was wrapped tight around her body.
“I know I am no lady at court. I know I am a wildling, called a savage by your people. But I am just as a woman who is able to pleasure someone at sex.”
His heart raced as realisation sank into him.
She thought he was afraid to bed her because of her. While in reality, he was afraid to bed her because of himself. It was never her to begin with, and now she throws herself into him to prove something to him.
While in reality, she does not need to prove him anything.
Aemond rushed into her before she could undress herself fully for him. Holding her hands in place, refusing her to undress any further. “I know you are,” he said. His voice is gentle and careful. “But I do not want it to be this way.”
“Why? Men always want to bed a woman when they have a chance.” Aemond sensed from her words that she still does not believe his sincere intentions. “I do, I do want to bed you– you have no idea,” he says with a frustrated chuckle, smiling at her glossy gentle gaze as her lovely lips were slightly parted, still searching for an answer from him. “How could I not?”
Placing his hand on her cheek.
“And I am not afraid of you–. I am just afraid of myself.”
Dropping his hand, Aemond hangs his head low as he couldn’t even face her.
“I have hurt a lot of women in the past,” he confessed.
“And women have hurt me in the past in return.”
She stood in stunned silence, her mind a whirl of unspoken thoughts as he bared his soul before her. His confession hung in the air between them, raw and trembling with the weight of his vulnerability. “I do not wish to hurt you. And I do not want you to feel any less because of me.”
“You will not hurt me.”
He felt the subtle shift in the air as she stepped away, a delicate movement as her touch lingered and echoed through the stillness of the moment.
“But will you bathe with me?” A gentle longing question that slipped from her tongue. “We do not have to touch each other.” If he had the bravery he once had, he would tell her that he would do anything to touch her for he has longed for her touch for so long. So he nodded as he himself slowly undressed as well in front of her.
Bare like the day they were born, with his healthy eye, he could not help but to eye her from up to down, taking her in. He could not find the right words for how much he craved for her. She was perfect.
He puts out his hand for her to hold, “Careful, it’s quite slippery.”
Smiling to him, she gently placed her hand in his as he led her into the hot springs that nature has provided for them. As the warm water hit their skin, he smiled when he heard her gentle chuckle as her smaller hand was held tight with his. When her body fully sunk into the warm water, Aemond kept her body close to hers. “May I?” Disregarding her suggestion of not touching each other, his hands reached out to her waist, but careful not to touch her without her consent.
“You may.”
A smile formed in his face as he gently cupped her naked waist and pulled her closer in the water. Their chests pressed against each other, and he swore shivers run down his spine when she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her gaze was intimate as a gentle light made her skin glow. The one eyed prince could not help but to rest his forehead on hers, embracing each other in silence.
“Did you mean your oath when you were a crow? For not using your cock?”
Her choice of words made him chuckle, nonetheless he understood her. “I never meant any of the oaths I spoke.” His doe smiled at him, brushing his now short silver hair back. “What was your former lover like?” She asked with a smile, reassuring him. “She was older, long black hair, and a witch.”
Her eyebrows raised with amusement, “A witch? Oh could I compete with that?” She teased. Aemond chuckled and pulled her closer, wanting her to know that he chose her now. “She was my past and I must admit that she left a trail in my heart. But you are my present and future. Without her, I wouldn’t be here with you,” he whispered intimately, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek.
She hummed, “But still, she is a proper lady nonetheless.”
Tucking her hair behind her ear, Aemond asked, “What does that mean?”
A pregnant pause.
“I am no princess, nor I have a title. I am just a wildling who just spotted you before the others. I apologise for it, and one day when you do bring me to your home, I do not think I shall fit in. But nonetheless, I think I can love you just as much as anyone could in your life. I hope you know that,” she whispered as tears started to build up in her eyes.
As much as he hates to admit it, she was right. If he did bring her home, what then? What would his mother say? What would the people say if a Targaryen prince married a wildling? Even the smallfolk have higher status than her. But from all circumstances, she was still his.
“Do not apologise for any of that,” resting his forehead on hers once again. “You are not just a wildling who just happens to pass by the wall when you see me. I believe the gods sent you to me. If it weren’t for you I might be rotting in the watch’s cell.” Nuzzling his nose to her hair, Aemond couldn’t help but to embrace her, never wanting to let her go.
“All my life, I cared for the judgement of others and the prison of power in the realm. But then I met you. You taught me freedom, love, and growing up. For once, I want to do as I please.” He pulls away slightly to look into her pretty face.
“For once, I want to do as I please and stop caring what people might think of me. I want to love you aside from my title. For at the end I am just a man and you are my woman. And no one shall take you away from me, nor anyone could take me away from you.”
“I might not have bed you, but I want us to grow. I hope you understand. I want this more than just…lust. I want to know you. All of you.”
Spellbound, as she smiled brightly, the joy in her face was evident even as tears rolled down her cheeks. The contrast was both heart-wrenching and beautiful—her eyes sparkled with a light that seemed to come from within, even as her tears glistened like morning dew upon her flushed skin. “I don’t want to leave this cave,” she whispered as she traced his sharp jaw with her gentle touch.
“Me too.”
Aemond suddenly drew her into a passionate kiss. The world around them seemed to blur as their lips met, igniting a spark that burned between them. His arms wrapped around her with an urgent embrace, pulling her closer. The kiss was a tempest of emotions, a melding of longing and desire, each touch and caress speaking volumes that words could never capture.
“I do not deserve you,” he said in between kisses.
Lifting her up a little, fixing his grip on her. Aemond groaned in pleasure when her nails digged into his back, making him flex it a little to feel her even more before resuming their kiss that made his doe giggle when their lips connect once more; repetitive wet clicks echoing in the cave they wished to live in forever.
“You deserve every single inch of me as I deserve you.”
a/n: This is literally my favourite chapter so far like I actually got emotional writing this🥹🤏✨ Yes heavily inspired by Jon and Ygritte (I’m obsessed with them) I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it! I would actually love to write more of Aemond and our wildling reader so I don’t think this series will end in just 10 chapters soooooooo stay tuned for future chapters<3🌷💫
#aemond targaryen#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#house targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen x female reader#aemond targaryen angst#aemond one eye#ewan mitchell x reader#ewan mitchell fanfic#ewan mitchell imagine#aemond targaryen imagine#house of the dragon fanfiction#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon s2#hotd spoilers#hotd season 2#aegon ii targaryen#haelena targaryen#hotd aemond#hotd fanfic#hotd s2#fire and blood#asoiaf#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x you#hotd#dance of the dragons#game of thrones
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Gojo recklessly flirting with Choso's little sister at Shibuya
Pairing: Gojo x Choso's sister! reader
Word Count: 1,5k
Synopsis: After being set in Shibuya to distract and exhaust none other than Satoru Gojo, Choso's little sister soon learns that the rumors about his charm are true.
Warnings: This has no major plot, basically just a fic to tease y'all, Gojo being a smooth operator, furious Choso lol
Tags: @celestair
„You‘re late“
Your sweet voice echoes through the hallway, figure unseen by Satoru Gojo in your hiding spot on the ceiling. Urgh, you’ve been sitting here for what feels like hours, the voice of your big brother lingering through your mind.
“Don’t cause trouble, (y/n). I’m serious, we have a mission to fulfill.”
“Yeah, whatever. Working with that idiots won’t bring back our brothers tho.”
“Careful.”
He stepped closer to you, eyes glistering so deadly that you had to swallow.
“Don’t forget why you’re here.”
“I’m here because you forced me to”, you remembered him.
“If Satoru Gojo is half as strong as that guy told us, he’ll kill me. I’m nothing but a bait, you know that right?”
“I won’t let any harm come over you, (y/n). I promise. Also, you have immense powers, just use them. I’ll meet up with you again later.”
One last hug. One last hug before he sent you away.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting, I was expecting a larger reception committee to be honest”, he comments dryly.
Your eyes roam over his body in the dark. Rumors were true as it seems, Satoru Gojo is indeed a handsome man for being human. Tall and quite muscular, an undercut to die for and that blindfold that holds the mystery of his powerful orbs. You crane your neck to catch a better glimpse of him. Interesting appearance.
“Be assured that I am more than enough for you.”
With a swift motion, you lower yourself onto the ground, feet landing elegantly right in front of him.
Your breath hitches when your gaze meets his. How is this man so good-looking even though a blindfold covers half of his face? He smells absolutely intoxicating, the way his cocky smile decorates his face makes your heart beat a little faster.
Stop. You shake your head, trying to get these thoughts out of your head. None of this matters. You are here to distract him, to drain him, to lead him to the others. Satoru Gojo is nothing more than a mission you have to fulfill.
“Oh, and you are?”, he questions, putting an arm casually on his hip.
“The villain”, you clarify with a satisfied grin.
“Too bad. You look way too good for being a villain.”
He really wants to play with you, cute. You’ve been walking on this earth long enough to know how men work, especially those like him. Always so sure of themselves, convinced that they can get any woman. Way too easy to manipulate, though.
“Yeah? Let me show you what I’ve got in store, then.”
Blood manipulation makes it easy for you to attack him from a distance over and over again. You aren’t a fool, though. The way your attacks simply bounce off him shows you more than any words could specify how fucking strong the man in front of you is. When using his technique, there’s absolutely no chance for you to win this fight. But still, you promised. You promised Choso to distract and tire Gojo out. The sooner he’s gone, the sooner you can take revenge for the death of your brothers.
“Blood manipulation, huh? Interesting, so you’re a descendant of the Kamo family.”
The amusement that radiates from his voice irritates you. It’s like he isn’t bothered by your powerful technique at all, making fun of you instead of fighting back.
“You know I could just kill you on the spot, right? Why are you here on your own?”
“Maybe to fight you, maybe to seduce you. Who knows?”, you remark, now trying to land a hit on him in close combat.
He grabs your hand faster than you are able to react, making your eyes widen. Fuck, this isn’t good. His radiant touch alone would be enough to kill you on the spot.
“I have to admit, you are a decent jujutsu sorcerer, maybe a semi grade 1. Could make you a grade 1 if you ask nicely.”
Gojo hates to admit it, but it’s way too easy to get lost in your mesmerizing orbs. Are you a curse? No, your skin feels too real and soft for that against his palm. You are human. Maybe reincarnated, but you are human. A striking human, to be exact.
Even though he is very aware of the fact that you are here to distract him from something bigger, he just can’t help but play your little game.
“You know I could make you kneel just by touching you, right?”, you purr, head tilted to the side.
“Oh believe me honey, I could do the same without using any technique.”
For the split of a second you can feel your cheeks heat up, heart pounding hard against your ribcage. What the hell is this strange feeling? You are reincarnated, you aren’t supposed to feel anything. But why…Why does the way he hold your arm so close against his body and the way he smiles down at you send shivers down your spine? You’ve been alive for so damn long, meeting countless men on the way. What makes him so different?
“I know you’re here to distract me. I gotta say that’s pretty rude considering I’m the strongest. Do they want to get rid of you?”
“Maybe I’m a good match and they know that”, you reply with a sweet grin.
“You’re fighting on the wrong side. When this is over, I’ll show you that you’re capable of so much more. With the right motivation, of course”, he hushes.
“Is this an offer?”, you question.
He can tell by the look in your eyes that your mind is racing. To be honest, he isn’t asking exclusively because of your striking powers.
“Absolutely.”
Softly, his touch traces along your arm, up your shoulder, over your back. Gojo’s other hand joins, brushing over your waist. You see stars, it’s like you’ve forgot how to function. Even though it was part of the job many times to wrap a man around your finger, it never really bothered you when they touched you. If you felt something, it was nothing but disgust and anger. But that right now, that isn’t anger or disgust. This is a completely different feeling, foreign in the way it makes your knees weak. No, not even the emotions you hold towards Choso can compare to that.
Is this what attraction feels like?
“You’re dangerous, Satoru Gojo.”
Your voice is as cold and calculating as ever while you feel like dying and flying internally.
“What’s your name?”
“(y/n), can you hear me?”
Fuck. The voice of your brother inside your ear makes you tear away from him in an instant.
“Yeah. What is it”, you mumble.
“So your name is (y/n), huh? What a beautiful name. Fits you perfectly”, Gojo coos behind you.
“Did that guy just flirt with you, (y/n)? Bring him here. Right now”, Choso hisses.
“Sure. Already on the way.”
“You heard him. Get your ass moving”, you instruct the man in front of you while rolling your eyes in annoyance and moving towards the main hall.
“What a bummer, I thought we had more time alone."
“Don’t say that out loud when my brother is here. He’ll kill you right on the spot and I want to have this honor”, you warn him.
The way you walk in front of him with your delicate hips swinging from side to side makes him smile into himself. You’re a feisty woman, not that easy to get, unapproachable at first glance. But oh how you caught his attention. Not only with your immense powers, but also your sharp tongue and striking looks.
“You’re too good looking to be one of the bad guys”, he comments before he can stop yourself.
“And you’re too good looking to fight for the wrong side”, you reply dryly.
“And how do you know I’m on the wrong side and you’re on the right?”
“Because your students killed my brothers without flinching.”
“And the people you are working with killed thousands of innocent humans with countless brothers and sisters still grieving them.”
You turn around slowly, just about to reach the meeting spot you agreed on with Choso.
“I would recommend to not say something like that to my brother”, you hiss.
“Choso, I’m here!”, you announce loudly.
Another figure appears out of the shadow.
“I hope you didn’t hurt her, Satoru Gojo. Otherwise I will have to kill you right on the spot.”
“I guess sneaking up to other people is like a family thing”, he notes.
“Don’t worry, she was really nice company. Made me almost forget that this is a trap.”
“Gojo”, you warn him.
“Watch your mouth”, Choso hisses through gritted teeth.
“Tell me you didn’t flirt with him”, he continues whispering in your ear.
“Oh, I absolutely did”, you reply without thinking twice.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu gojo#gojo satoru#gojo saturo#gojou satoru x reader#gojo jjk#jujustu kaisen#satoru gojo#gojou x reader#satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen satoru#jjk satoru#jujutsu satoru#gojo#jjk season two#jjk season 2#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso kamo#choso#jjk choso#kamo choso#jjk fluff#jjk shitpost
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HOUSE OF BALLOONS | JJK
06- Same Old Song
synopsis: fleeing the pressure and pretense of your elite life, you stumble into the seductive chaos of the House of Balloons. there, Jungkook waits— ready to make you question everything you thought you knew
w/c: 3.9k
warnings: alcohol consumption, readers parents being awful, Tae & his parents being just as bad, brief mention of a panic attack, jk is still an ass :(, jk <3s titties, titty fucking, oral (m), cumplay, finger sucking! um! i think thats it??
!minorsdni!
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
It was a little surprising that Valerie wanted to leave the party this early. Sure, it was 4:30 a.m., but you’d never seen her leave before you. She was always one of the last to leave, sometimes even crashing for the night when she’d had a little too much to drink.
“Already?” You glanced at Val, tilting your head toward the drinks table. You weren’t ready to leave yet, still entertaining the thought of maybe sneaking in a round two with Jungkook.
That was until your gaze drifted past Valerie’s head, landing on Jungkook, his tongue tangled in some redhead’s mouth, the girl comfortably perched on his lap.
Fucking prick.
Not that you had any real expectations of Jungkook. He didn't owe you loyalty, and you weren't asking for it. But it had only been 7 minutes since he'd been balls deep inside you upstairs.
Again, fucking prick.
Your gaze flicked to Valerie, and you linked your arm with hers, nodding quietly. Walking toward the door, you could feel Jungkook's eyes on you as the redhead kissed down his neck, replacing the marks you had left with her own.
The streets are quiet as you both walk down them, the morning sky clocking on for shift work. Birds sitting along powerline's watching you and Valerie breathe in fresh air and adjust to the blue tint of the sky compared to the flashing red lights inside.
"You good Val?"
Valerie was quiet, her usual bubbly, overconfident demeanor noticeably subdued. Her gaze was focused on her feet as she walked beside you.
“Jungkook isn’t a good guy, Bee,” she said softly, finally looking up at you. A half smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
You let out a small laugh through your nose, looked at her and see that her face showed more concern than her voice had.
“I mean it, Bee,” she continued, her tone more serious now. “He has no interest in anyone but himself. He’s not a good person.”
“Why are you telling me this? I’m basically the president of the Jungkook hate club.” You laughed lightly, the sound almost ironic. You already knew these things. His actions after he had his way with you only proved Valerie’s point—and yours too.
Valerie stopped walking, grabbing your hand and offering you a weak smile.
“Yeah, well, I also know a ‘Jungkook afterglow’ when I see one.”
You press your lips together, close your eyes and scrunch your nose in embarrassment that your orgasm had painted you with a big 'JUNGKOOK FUCKED ME' across your forehead.
Then, Valerie's words echo in your mind. I know what it looks like when someone fucks Jungkook. Had she fucked him? Had you just ruined things with your only real girlfriend by sleeping with her man?
"Val... you and Jungkook, are you-did I just... fuck something up? Oh god, Val-"
She laughs, flicking your forehead and shaking your shoulders. "You're a fucking idiot."
“Bee, no! I’ve never slept with him—ew. I’ve just had to console way too many crying, drunk girls after they’ve seen him take someone else up those stairs.”
Oh god, you can finally breathe again. Your shoulders, which you hadn’t realised were tense, drop in relief.
“Anyways, this is me.” Valerie’s voice softens as she nods towards the small, rundown apartment complex. “You wanna stay?”
You shake your head. You’ve got brunch with your parents at the Kim’s house in a few hours, and you’re planning to use the drive home to sleep off your regret.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Your stomach was fucking turning, twisting itself into knots. You would’ve blamed it on the abomination of a drink Jimin had poured you last night, but that wasn’t the real culprit.
What really had your stomach flipping was watching Taehyung’s parents proudly show you their family heirloom engagement ring. A beautiful gold diamond piece, passed down through generations. Too bad you’d been leaning more toward silver jewelry these days.
Also, too bad you weren’t marrying their son. Let alone even dating him. Your mother must have caught the pure look of disgust on your face as she gently placed her hand on Taehyung’s mother’s, admiring the ring.
“Oh, it’s just gorgeous. Isn’t it, honey? So beautiful,” your mother mused, her hand slipping to your lower back and giving it a subtle tap, as if reminding you to play along.
“Yeah, yeah. Super pretty,” you feigned a smile, your insides twisting even more.
“You should try it on!” Taehyung’s mother beamed, her fingers easily sliding the gold ring off her own hand and over her knuckles, holding it out to you with a proud smile.
“Oh! Yes, she would be honored,” your mother replied for you, a little too quickly.
You shot a quick glance at your mother, feeling a wave of panic rising in your chest. “Oh, really. No, thank you though, but, that’s really— I’m okay, thank you,” you said, holding up your hands defensively, almost as if the ring were a weapon.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mrs. Kim laughed, not at all deterred by your clear discomfort. “Who knows, maybe it will be yours one day. Give me your hand.” She smiled at you, the kind of smile that was so warm you almost felt bad for wanting to escape the situation.
You hesitated, feeling a pang of guilt. Mrs. Kim had always been so sweet to you—except when she wasn’t trying to push you into a marriage with her son. You sighed inwardly, knowing there was no way to avoid this.
Taehyung caught your eyes, his gaze steady, before he nodded and took the ring from his mother's hand. "If I'm lucky enough," he said, all a little rehearsed, slipping his fingers around yours and placing the ring on your left hand.
You sucked in a deep breath, your heart pounding as the cold metal slid onto your finger. It felt like you were being suffocated, and all you wanted to do was scream, grab the ring, and shove it up Taehyung's perfect little perky ass. Not only did God give assholes pretty faces, but nice asses, too.
As if on cue, both mothers called the fathers over from the balcony, where they'd been puffing away on cigars, and the small crowd of them quickly surrounded you. Each one of them complimenting you, inspecting the ring. You could feel their eyes all over you, suffocating you with their expectations, their approval.
Your chest felt like it started to swell, like the air in your lungs had become thick smoke. The scene in front of you slightly blurring, the sound of their oo's and aa's tuning in and out as if you were underwater. Your hands slightly starting to sweat and shake, your knees following quickly after.
You hadn’t felt this kind of panic since you were six years old, sitting alone on the school steps, waiting for your parents to pick you up, only to realize they’d forgotten. That same suffocating sensation was creeping up on you now, but it was worse. It was heavier. You couldn’t breathe.
Your free hand, grabbed the band, yanked it off your finger, and shoved it into Taehyung’s mother’s hands with an urgency that startled everyone.
“Shit, stop. Fuck, please just stop.”
Their jaws dropped, your father hissing your name through his teeth.
You shook your head, barely glancing at Taehyung’s mother as you bowed slightly, an attempt at apology. And then you bolted.
You took the stairs two at a time, your heart pounding, until you reached the safety of your room. Slamming the door shut behind you, you locked it with trembling hands.
“Oh, I’m so incredibly sorry about that. She’s just been so emotional lately.”
You could hear your mother’s voice, the fake apology dripping from her words. Always so quick to protect the image.
“Oh, nevermind! I’m sure she was just overwhelmed with the possibility of her dreams coming true, she will come around.”
Their conversation continued, murmuring about how perfect the ring suited you, how it would make them so happy to have it passed down to you, to see their family legacy continue with the “perfect” match.
If you hadn’t been so nauseous, you might have actually screamed. Thankfully, your phone sat on your bed vibrates, distracting you momentarily from the chaos.
| 1:27pm
yoongles: Dinner at Chim's. You down?
| 1:27pm
You: booze?
| 1:29pm
yoongles: Dumb question Bee.
| 1:30pm
yoongles: Jimin said bring some 'rich people drinks that will get legless' or ur eating the scraps x
| 1:32pm
You: see u then x
You had changed out of the flowy pastel floral dress you had been encouraged to wear. Swapped it out for a pair of black jeans and a baggy tee tucked into them.
You pulled your vanity chair to your closet, on your tippy toes to rummage around the back of your closet with your hand to try and feel for a bottle you had stashed.
Your ex boyfriend had gifted it to you a year ago on your birthday, Remy Martin Louis XII Cognac. A $7,000 birthday present he had pulled from his ass as an apology for missing your party.
You had vowed to smash it in front him the next time you saw him for fucking your best friend just a few days later. Taking it to the slums of Daegu and drinking it with a bunch of people who he would never be caught dead around, felt like a much sweeter revenge.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
You had arrived in Daegu an hour earlier than you needed to. The air felt safer here. You took the extra time to walk around, people-watching. Sundays in Daegu actually felt like Sundays—slow, calm, and peaceful.
You walked into Chim’s, greeted Jimin’s father, whom you had met a few times before, and made your way to the back booths where the boys always sat. The restaurant was fairly busy—couples and friends grilling their own meat, pouring shots of cheap soju into shot glasses, laughing with one another.
“Bee in Daegu while the sun is still up? Shoot me dead,” Joon teased, downing a shot of soju.
The group welcomed you—some offering awkward fist bumps, others just a simple “hello”—except for Jungkook. Yoongi slid down the booth, forcing Jimin beside him to make space for you.
“You hold up your end of the deal, Bee?” Jimin joked, but his eyes practically pleaded, please, please, pleeeease.
You reached into your handbag, pulling out the rounded bottle with scalloped edges and placing it squarely in the middle of the table.
“Here, you absolute parasite.”
"Bee, I was expecting, like, a bottle of Grey Goose or Chardonnay. Not a 7 Grand bottle of fucking Cognac."
The rest of the boy's jaws had dropped as Yoongi unneededly announced the price tag of the bottle.
"Seven fucking grand? Fuck Bee, you're leathal." Hoseok grinned as he snapped photos at every angle.
“Daddy gon’ give you a spanking for stealing this one,” Joon laughed, only to be met with disgusted scrunches from the rest of the group. “No, no, like, her actual dad. Not me. I’m not daddy. Fuck off.”
“Yeah, still fucking weird, Joon,” you gagged at him, standing up and leaning over the table to delicately remove the stopper from the bottle.
You poured the liquid into each of their cups, and your own, warning them to drink it slowly as soon as you saw Jungkook reaching for his to shoot it.
Yoongi, however, swirled the liquid around in his glass, bringing it to his nose. You watched closely, almost certain you could see the memories he was reliving in his mind flash before your eyes too.
On the opposite side of the table sits Jungkook. He takes a sip of the cognac, letting the notes of honey and nutmeg dance across his tongue. He wonders if drinking something this expensive is just another part of your normal.
He watches as you sip your own glass, chasing it with shots of soju between bites of grilled pork belly, chatting with the group like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Joon updates you on his latest bottle garden project, and Jimin fills you in on the girl he’s been texting, all thanks to your wing-woman skills. Jungkook rolls his eyes when Jimin jokes that you should find someone for him, too.
“Eh, looks like he’s got that one all figured out on his own, huh?” You tease, popping a piece of meat into your mouth and glancing at Jungkook.
Jungkook scoffs lightly and shrugs. “Should’ve seen the bird I pulled last night in the bathroom—tits like a—”
You extend your foot under the table, nudging his shin hard enough for him to feel it. A silent warning. Shut the fuck up.
He quickly swallows the rest of his sentence, glancing at you before shrugging and sipping his drink. He doesn’t push it any further. You didn’t want to know his thoughts on your body—nor did you want to know if he was actually referring to the girl he’d been making out with on the couch after he had his way with you.
“Tits like a model, that’s what he told me about bathroom girl. Wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.” Joon laughed, shaking his head.
Fucking prick. Bathroom girl? Prick, prick, prick.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The party had just started picking up at the House of Balloons for their Sunday Sesh. Still a party, just toned down. The music wasn’t as loud, Hoseok got to spend most of the night away from his booth and with his friends, the crowd was smaller but still alive.
You were sitting close to Hoseok, leaning into his side with his arm draped lazily over your shoulders as he scrolled through his phone, showing you a folder of photos he had collected titled “Stray Cats Doing Straynge Things.”
A whole collection of photos of cats he had spotted around town. This carefree, gentle soul was exactly what had drawn you to him a few weeks ago. A man who had been handed a shit pile of cards, and instead of asking someone to reshuffle, he made them his own flush.
Jimin had taken his own party up to his room as soon as the girl who had him whipped arrived.
Joon was outside, checking on his DIY bottle garden when he heard the sound of something smashing—probably some drunk idiot stumbling around.
Yoongi had taken over the DJ booth tonight, testing out new instrumentals he’d been working on. The alternative beats vibrated off the walls, setting the mood for the night.
Jungkook, on the other hand, was slouched on his usual couch, a girl beside him rambling on about his tattoos. "Yeah, did that one myself. Yep, that one too. And yeah, fuck, that one as well."
He wonders what you'd look like with a pretty little tattoo. Wonders if you'd ever let him ink you. Maybe he'd tattoo your ass—or close to your tits, just to get another look at them.
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, adjusting himself at the thought of your body. It doesn't help that you're sitting across from him, your cleavage on full display, your shirt falling loose around your chest as you lean forward to grab a shot from the coffee table.
Fucking tits. The one weakness of Jeon Jungkook. He stands up, mutters an excuse, and heads upstairs. He needs to fucking cool down or fuck his hand.
It’s a surprise to both you and Jungkook when you let yourself into his room without knocking. Etiquette had never been something either of you had bothered with when it came to each other.
Jungkook is sitting at the edge of his bed, hand pressed against his sweats that holds his hardening cock.
“Fuck—Ain’t ever heard of knocking?” His ears flush red as he stands up, clearly flustered.
“Didn’t knock when I was trying to pee last night. What goes around, comes around, Jungkook.” You step into his room, closing the door behind you, your eyes darting around the space.
A double bed against the wall, a small gaming setup, and street signs—definitely stolen—decorating the walls. A little diffuser by his bed fills the air with hints of chamomile, casting a soft blue hue across the room. Surprisingly clean.
“Such a boy,” you murmur, toying with one of the figurines on his dresser.
"Can you fuck off?" Jungkook mutters, walking over to you and snatching the toy (which he would happily argue isn't a toy) from your hands, placing it back in its rightful spot.
"So you can touch yourself?" You taunt, voice low and teasing. You're not stupid-you saw him sitting on his bed with his hand over his crotch. And you definitely saw him eye-fucking your tits.
"Fuck off, D.D. I ain't having a wank. Just needed some air that hasn’t been poisoned by you."
You hum softly in response, already used to Jungkook’s little lies. It’s become a pattern you picked up on the second time you met him. When you gave him a cigarette, he claimed he hated it, but his lies are always followed by that small twitch of his nose and the way his eyes dart to something beside or behind you—never meeting yours.
He watches as you step closer, your fingers brushing lightly over his desk, touching his things. His tongue flicks out, wetting his bottom lip, his gaze never leaving you now. He can smell you, feel the heat radiating off your skin, and notices the glitter on your cheekbone, catching the soft glow of the diffuser’s light.
“Is that what you were doing? Going to get off?” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, as your fingers play with another figurine on his desk.
“Would you have preferred me to do it downstairs on the couch?” His tone mirrors yours, low and steady, his eyes scanning you like he’s memorising every detail. He notices how the gold jewelry you used to wear has been replaced with silver, how the pink tint of your lips has deepened into something more muted.
You look up at him, your finger catching the chain around his neck, gently pulling it out from beneath the neck of his shirt, fingers absently fiddling with it before letting it settle in place.
“I would’ve watched.”
Fuckin' hell.
Your hand slowly travels down his chest, making its way to his stomach. Considering the amount of alcohol he consumes, he probably should have a little beer belly, but it's toned. Firm. Just like his cock when your hand softly presses against his bulge over his sweatpants
Jungkook keeps his eyes on you, his hand coming to meet yours and directs it inside his pants.
Your fingers wrap around his cock, slowly pumping his hardening cock. His head falls back slightly, lets out a low groan.
"Fuck- Keep goin', keep fuckin' going."
You pump him as you guide him back to the edge of the bed, lower yourself to your knees as he sits after ridding himself of his pants.
You lick your lips as Jungkook's cock presses against his stomach in front of you, your thumb softly glides over the tip and collects the small leak and use it to lubricate his cock.
You continue pumping, leaning up on your knees and mimic Jungkook's actions on you last night back onto him. You let a drop of spit leave your mouth and fall onto the head of his cock.
You spread the spit, keeping your eyes on Jungkook who's looking down at you in between his legs.
You lean your head down, take his cock into your mouth and begin to bob your head up and down, you take his length down your throat, gagging a little as you reach the base.
Jungkook can feel the muscles in your throat tense, tightening around him. He looks down at you and when he sees your glassy eyes flicker up to meet his, he thinks he could cum right here, right now.
"Fuck D.D. Ah-Shit" His thighs flex as your head gains pace, the feeling of your own little moans vibrating against his cock and lewd sounds of your wet mouth make his leg twitch slightly.
He wraps his hand around your throat softly, feels your muscles contorting each time his cock slides down it, he inches your head to look up at him.
"Tits. Let me fuck them? Fuck- Need to fuck them D.D." His voice so whiney, practically begging for it.
You slide this cock slowly out of your mouth, using your tongue to swirl around the tip a few times and Jungkook is sure the way you work your tongue you must use it to collect people's souls.
Your hands pull off your shirt, revealing a black lace bra that holds your tits in. He watches as your hands reach around your back and unclasp your bra and let it fall down your arms and throw it to the side.
"On your knees, on the bed." He whispers, his eyes not leaving your bare chest.
As you position yourself onto the edge of his bed, Jungkook can't help himself but to grab your tits himself. Squeezes them, pinches and rolls your nipples between his fingers. Let's out a soft moan when you whine at the feeling.
He presses his cock against the middle of your chest, bites his lips as he watches you push your tits together to hold his cock. Lets out a spew of curses as he watches you let a drop of spit fall onto his cock.
He begins to thrust up into your tits, finding the right rhythm. His mouth is ajar as he watches his cock disappear into the flesh of your chest and peek out.
You think that the sight before you, Jungkook mouth open, letting his moans and curses fall from his pretty lips as he fucks into your chest should be illegal. Convinced you could cum from it.
His thrust become faster, looks at you and sticks two fingers into your mouth, desperate for more of you. Your tongue swirls around his digits, letting them out with a small pop only to take them back into your mouth.
"Fuck, Ah- Fuck, cumming." His head falls back, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as his cock releases spurts of cum onto your chest.
His cock twitches between your tits as his release comes to an end, his chest panting. He lifts his head back up and looks at you. Fuckin' sin.
On your knees, your tits pushed around his cock painted in his seed, your lips still wrapped around his thick fingers.
"Don't move, got wipes in here somewhere." He slowly slides his cock out from your tits, his fingers too, smirks as he takes a second look at the mess he's made.
He pulls his pants back on and rummages through his bedside drawer, returns back in front of you. Tilts his head as if he's debating something internally.
He leans down onto one knee in front of you, holds his hands over yours that are holding your tits, leans inand takes your sensitive nipple into his mouth. Swirls his tongue and sucks. His tongue flattens against yours nipple and works his way upwards to coat his tongue in his own hot cum. Is quick back to his feet, his index finger lifts your head from under your chin and when you open your mouth, he presses his lips to yours.
Swirls his cum coated tongue around yours, moans exchanged into one another's mouths. His lips working against yours in a desperate kiss. Both of you letting small sounds exchange, breaths getting heavier. He pulls his head back and begins to use the wet wipe over your chest. Is gentle in the way he uses them against your skin, makes sure to not miss a spot, doesn’t let you clean yourself, is happy to do the work.
He makes his way to throw them into the small trashcan by his door, is slightly bummed when he turns back to see you with your shirt back on.
"Not gonna let me return the favor, D.D.?"
Jungkook steps toward you, his hand reaching out to pull at your shirt, his touch eager, but you shake your head, denying him.
"Goodnight, Jungkook," you say, your voice steady. "Thanks for cumming on my tits. Was very fun." A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you gently push a piece of his hair behind his ear, your fingers grazing his skin in a tender, almost mocking gesture.
You turn to leave, your footsteps soft as you make your exit.
Jungkook stands frozen, stunned. He's never been rejected like this before. Never had his desires unmet, never came without the satisfaction of giving the same in return. It's disorienting, this feeling of being left wanting, powerless.
But you didn't come up here for him. You didn't come to get off. You came to remind yourself of something, to prove a point:
Jungkook was not in control. You were.
You always have been. Since the moment you stepped into the House of Balloons.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
#bts#jeon jungkook#jungkook#jungkook fanfic#jungkook fic#jungkook angst#jungkook ff#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#bts fanfic#jungkook and reader#jungkook series#jeon jungkook fanfic
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Hi! I hope you're well! I've got a bit of a request (maybe? idk can be whatever u want it to be:D) So- R recently has had their wisdom tooth removed, and I think you've seen how people get so loopy afterwards. I think it'd be hilarious writing Hobie trying to keep a straight face and talk to R rambling on about some random things in the most serious manner he can muster lol
Thank you for requesting! Muah 😘 ❤️
Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader
Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, TW blood, Fluff.
ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
Hobie's nervous for no reason, he knows you're alright behind the tooth shaped door but the sound of the drill’s muffled whirring has his spidey senses going haywire. He thinks it's the weird smell of the dentist's office and the stark white of the walls that adds to his anxiety. His leg nervously bounces to the beat of the crappy music that the dentist's assistant keeps playing on loop (torturing him basically.)
He kneads at his temple to get the scraping sound out of his ears, due to his enhanced senses that includes super hearing, he can hear every pull and tug of your tooth, unfortunately. But he thinks you have it worse since you're the one who feels every tug and pull. Or maybe he just hates it when you get hurt, especially if he can't help you or even see you. He curses the tooth shaped door for hiding you from his view. Seriously, who makes a door shaped like that?
With a sigh, the toothy door finally opens, and out you roll out of it in a squeaky wheelchair. Hobie stands up lightning quick to get to your side. The dentist smiles at him with her perfect teeth, hands guiding you out of the sterile room.
“She’s good, don't worry.” The dentist senses Hobie's worry, or she just sees it etched on his face. “Your girl's a bit loopy because of the meds but it'll wear off in a few minutes.”
Hobie kneels down to face you. He almost laughs loudly at your swollen cheek that makes you look like a squirrel that's hiding its nuts inside its mouth. He rubs your knee softly to wake your foggy self based on how glossy your eyes are. Drool drips from the cotton in your mouth and he swears he almost loses it right there and then.
“Hi, love, ready to come home?” Hobie smiles softly like he usually does when he finds you endearing. Despite all the bloody saliva dripping out of your mouth.
“Hat?” You ask, voice murmured by the cotton. Hobie guesses you said ‘what?’ instead of asking for his invisible hat.
Raising your hand to his face, you give him a good pat on his cheek, you then let out a giggle that sounded more like a cackle. It all makes him raise an eyebrow.
“You gave her the good stuff huh, doc?” He asks, never leaving his eyes off your disoriented self.
The dentist chuckles, “just give her paracetamol for the pain and don't let her eat or drink anything for an hour or two if she can help it.”
“Thanks, doc.” Hobie gives her a polite smile while standing back up to his feet. “Ready to walk with me?”
You narrow your eyes at him, eyebrows knitted, hands balling at your soft pants. You dressed for the occasion, or rather, dressed down for it. You had the foresight to know that you'll be bleeding all over your clothes right after. Like how you are right now with one of Hobie's old band shirts. He clearly doesn't mind since he owns a hundred like them. But he won't miss the opportunity to tease you about it once you're sober and well awake.
You look at him like he told you the copper you gave him is in a poor state. “I hab boyfriend.”
“I know you do, it's me.” He sees the dentist crack a smile. “Get up, love, you'll kick my arse if we miss your episode.”
“Episode?” You once again ask with wonderment.
“Yeah, that dragon show you like so much. Up you go.”
“Dragons?!” Your voice echoes out in the room, like he just told you dragons are real. You stand up quicker than he thought you could. “Really?” Your question cements what he thinks. “They're dragons right? Not wyverns, they're different creatures y’know.” He tamps down a laugh.
Holding you by your biceps, Hobie flicks his eyes behind you and over to the dentist who just shrugs with a grin. “Her tooth was stubborn. Sorry, I could've given her the lighter stuff but she would've felt it.”
“That's alright, doc, this is how she usually is.” He jokes, which you chortle at. Well at least you recognize humour amidst the fog of whatever concoction the dentist gave you. “Thanks again.” He waves goodbye whilst he guides you out of the clinic.
“Why are you so pretty?” You look at him with sparkling eyes like you're about to cry from his sheer beauty. Tapping his chin, cheek squished against his shoulder, you don't look at where you're walking as you continue to admire him in the sun. “So p-pretty…like a-an angel.”
Hobie does all the walking for you, his arms are looped around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the pavement. The tips of your shoes grazes the concrete as you squish his cheeks in your hand, making him pout from your cuteness overload.
“An angel? Just last night you called me a dick for eating your mango.” How could he know you were trying to save it inside the fridge?
You giggle, “mmm, mango.”
“I'll buy you a hundred more if you continue to dote on me.” You two finally make it to the van, he thanks his abilities for not getting winded out by the trek.
You lean back dramatically, making Hobie catch you in his arms. You both look like a cover from a romance novel.
“I can't! I have a boyfriend.” You say with your whole heart, and as serious as you can with your mouth full of cotton.
“Fuckin' hell.” He laughs, lifting you back up before someone in the street sees. “I'll buy you some ice cream if you get in the car. Mango or chocolate flavour?”
“I will,” you poke his chest, “not be,” poke “bribed by you–you stranger!” You poke him several times.
Hobie catches your finger mid poke. Leaning closer to your face, he smells the iron from your mouth. You sniff, moving your head away from him with a pout.
“Love,” he says sweetly, catching the back of your head before it falls further back. Laying his forehead against yours, he gives you a minute to recognize him from his warmth alone. He'd give you forever if he can. Holding your hand, he raises it to his chest, letting you feel the familiar thump of his heart. He remembers that you do it whenever he gets home from patrol. “It's me, yeah?”
Hobie doesn't realize the tears brimming in your eyes. He stands up straight at the sound of your quiet sobbing.
“We're gonna miss the dragons.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks, the cotton in your mouth threatens to fall out as you weep in the parking lot with him trying his best to wipe the tears while he coos softly at you.
Hobie definitely has his work cut out for him, now to get you home without crying about dragons or acting like he's kidnapping you. Yet, he'd gladly do it all over again if it's you.
#request done#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#the kr8tor's creations#hobie brown#spider punk#hobie brown x fem!reader#spider punk x fem!reader#atsv fanfiction#atsv fanfic#atsv x reader#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie fluff#hobie brown x you#spider punk x you#hobie brown fluff#tw blood#fanfic
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ᝰ MY OH MY. ━━ (029) balloon flowers versus roses
WORD COUNT. 1038
WARNINGS. a little timeskip from last chapter but only a couple days, yelling, arguing, just some pretty serious and mean spirited insulting, i was in really bad mood when i wrote this but let me just say again that this fictional and i know yj is better than this :]
credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33
SUNWOO WAS NEVER the target of the bet nor did he create it. Honestly speaking, it was never his issue at all.
Yet as he walked out of the familiar elevator, he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders since the last time he'd stood in that very same spot.
The bet wasn’t technically his issue. Neither was your relationship with Yeonjun. But he could not have helped but insert himself in the very middle of it. It came down to the most important person in his life. What was he supposed to do?
Not many friends, especially best friends, would be this overjoyed that their dearest friend's relationship ended. Sunwoo, however, wasn’t like most friends. Because if it was up to him, he would lose the title of being solely your best friend as soon as humanly possible.
A smile took over his face as he turned the corner, his eyes fondly looking down at a bouquet of flowers— the very same flowers you got him too.
He hadn’t brought the balloon flowers in for any particular reason (even if he spent a greater part of the night researching the best florists near him). At first, confessing to you was on his mind. But eventually, he decided that after just coming out of a relationship like the one you had, maybe getting into another one right away wasn’t on most people’s wishlist.
And giving flowers with such a romantic meaning as a congratulatory gift for a breakup wasn’t ideal either.
So he decided that the fact that they might make you smile was enough reason for him. His own smile grew imagining your face already.
He looked up in front of him. A familiar figure making its way up to your door caught his attention.
As quick as his smile had grown, it dropped instantaneously, seeing the other visitor raise his fist to knock, roses in his free hand.
“Don’t!” Sunwoo exclaimed, his voice echoing through the empty corridor.
Yeonjun stopped in his tracks, rolling his eyes as recognition settled in.
Yeonjun straightened his back and sent a quick glance at the door before eventually facing the other man. Sunwoo walked towards him with an unreadable but dark expression on his features.
The former only chuckled, pushing his hand through his hair.
“Kim Sunwoo! Don’t you have a knack for always showing up on time to ruin the moment?”
The black, curly-haired boy move one step closer.
“I’m serious. Don’t knock. Don’t show up in front of her. Don’t attempt to get her back for the sake of a stupid bet. Don’t do that her.”
“Who are you to tell me what to do? You don’t know anything.” Yeonjun scoffed, crossing his arms.
Sunwoo paused for a few seconds, clearly in thought. He then reached into his pocket.
“Is it because of the money that you keep doing this? I was always under the impression that you were more than well off, but if you really need the money, I’ll give you everything I have. If it means you’ll stop hurting her and leave her life forever.” He said, looking down at the wallet before offering it to Yeonjun.
His expression changed from annoyance to pure anger. He roughly pushed Sunwoo’s hand down, speaking with the same rough caliber.
“Like I said, you don’t know anything. Stop talking like you do.” His hand came up to his beautifully sculpted face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “It’s not about the fucking money man. I really do love her!”
“Yeah, right! How can you say that? I mean, you have done nothing but lie, cheat, and use her! You don’t love her. You just don’t want to lose the power you have over her!” Stepping even closer, the boy holding purple flowers now also raised his voice. “I bet you don’t even know what love is to her!”
“Oh, and you do?”
“Yes! Yes, I do! Better than you ever will.”
Both of their voices bounced off the walls. In any other context, Sunwoo would be worried about getting scolded for possibly disturbing your neighbors. But he was too busy shooting an icy glare at the boy in front of him.
As Yeonjun looked away first, a part of Sunwoo wanted to celebrate the tiny victory internally. But a sarcastic laugh took his attention.
“You think you know everything just because of your silly little crush on her, don’t you?”
“What?” Sunwoo’s eyes widened, blinking a few times as if it would make sure he heard him correctly.
“You thought I didn’t know? Ha! Everyone knows. I mean, you follow her around like a lost dog. She probably does as well.” Yeonjun smirked, at the shock at the other one’s face.
Balling his fist, he tried to recollect himself and attempted to ignore the implications of his words the best he could.
“N-None of your relationship was even real ever since the second bet! Despite that, I can give her the love you weren’t able nor deserve to give her. I truly love her!”
“None of it was real. Yet she was kissing my lips. She was going on dates with me. Despite everything, she still chose me, and she will again.” He clenched his jaw, spitting words like venom, made to burn deeply. Normally, Yeonjun wouldn’t go this far but anger took over after Sunwoo’s confirmation in form of a confession of what he knew already deep down. “But even if she doesn’t, did you truly think that you had any semblance of a chance, ever?”
“She’s never ever going to see you that way and you are never going to be worthy of her. You’ll be nothing but her friend until she inevitably gets tired of you and ditches you.”
This time, Yeonjun was the one who stepped closer, tongue as sharp as an arrow, not even stopping at the obvious nauseating heart break on Sunwoo’s face.
“Because you two are simply not on the same level like me and her are, she’ll never love you.”
Before Sunwoo get a word in, the two boys heard the door creak open, making both of them look up at the figure standing in the doorway.
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NOTES. hehehhehehehhehehehehhehehehehhehehehe
make sure to participate the ask them anything event, it’s very important to me : it’s okay if you already send an ask tho, feel free to ask as many questions as you desire whenever you think of one
TAGLIST. @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @starryunho @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @felixsramen @aapplepii @juhakutie @gyumibear @alixnsuperstxr @atinyinateezverse @nyukyusnz @ghstzzn @blueresides @shakalakaboomboo @haechology @ahnneyong @atinycafe @i-luvsang @nasangel @asherthehimbo @marvelahsobx @blue-rainydays @the-swageyama-tobiyolo @evilsailorsenshi @allisonleannn @sunkitti @koizekomi @ms-no1kpopstan @marsvillee @tubatu-wari-wari @jazminethecreator @mitchko11 @daegale @wonwootakemyheart @ksywoo @dearly-somber @hxnnibxns @luvvsnae
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Buddie 617 meta
I’m gonna be honest here, this was one of the funniest 911 eps to me. I loved how this ep showed us both Buck and Eddie completely sucking at dating. It was very obvious in Buck’s case, what with each attempt to have quality time with Natalia being ruined by one of his past decisions, but then when he called out Eddie for also sucking at it, Buck wasn’t wrong. Eddie’s attempts seem half-hearted at best. First off, if he really wanted to date, then Tia Pepa’s help and dating apps are actually not that awful as options. Magic might happen there as well. The right person could even stand out more against a sea of not so great choices, turning the dreary experience into a colorful, magical one. But even when Eddie tries on his own, his attempts are LAME. Seriously, there are pastime activities that offer way more potential to start a conversation, and maybe a romance, than the ones Eddie chose. Not only that, these are not his actual hobbies, where he knows he’ll find someone who likes the same thing he does (the way he shares so much with one tall firefighter that we’re all thinking of right now. Eddie’s also being dumb about wanting it to “just happen” as if that’s not exactly what he got with buck. Also, just a friendly reminder that Buddie have been dating for almost 5 years, and they are GREAT at it when it’s with each other).
On top of that, we for real got a guy checking Eddie out (hi, hello, should I start a collection of him checking and being checked out by guys?) as well as him witnessing a woman he was looking at being embraced by another one. Why the hints at being surrounded by queer people? Your guess is as good as mine, but I’m here for it no matter what. ;D Now, I’ve talked before about the ongoing theme of Buddie’s dating life being intertwined in terms of when they start dating someone, or of why they break up, but now in addition to them dating at the same time, we also see them simultaneously sucking at it? Yeah, that takes the connectedness of their dating life up a notch. ~~
Which brings me to one line that grabbed my attention in this ep. THE line that offers the explicit resolution for the most important romantic plot here is the one from Gina, the insurance lady, to Chimney, about not regretting the attempt. Yes, even when the result is bad. That’s what Madney will embrace. One of the biggest obstacles to Buck and Eddie, besides their obliviousness, is the fear of ruining the good thing they have by attempting to take it to the next level. But here we have Chimney being reminded by Gina that it’s worth it, to try. Because the good thing you can have, if it works out? Is worth it. And you never have to live with the “what if” of it all. Now look at Buck and Eddie being once more adorable morons together on the job! Imagine the moment when they stop running around and let themselves try taking it to the next level, because they realize no matter what the result will be, they would never regret the attempt. ~~
Speaking of Buddie paralleling one of the canon couples on the show who were acting lovey dovey in this ep, the way Bobby described what made him and Athena happen reminded me of Buddie connecting. In both cases, there’s an intense and upsetting call, after which one of our first responders turns to find support (Buddie promising to have each other’s back) and comfort (Eddie wants to go grab something to eat together) in the other one. ~~
I did not miss Taylor Kelly, and true to form, she was back because she’s advancing her career by exploiting her personal connection to Buck and the exposure to the 118 it provided her. I’m pretty sure this basically buries any option of any showrunner ever trying to re-set these two as a romance, since it echoed and reinforced Buck’s decision to break up with her. It WAS funny to see her and Lucy cockblock Buck (I do think Lucy’s tone with which she spoke of their past also closes the door on anyone ever trying to set her and Buck up as a serious couple), but what I found to be funniest is that Buck tells Natalia he was trying to figure out the perfect place for their date, and then he took her to the bar where he kissed Lucy. A bar reminiscent of the one where he hooked up with Taylor. Possibly a spot where he hooked with other women during his Buck 1.0 stage based on how it’s THE hang out place for the 118 and we know Buck had no issues hooking up anywhere back then. Natalia, hon. This is not a good sign for your r/s with him. ~~
Speaking of which, there’s an ex who didn’t come back in this ep, but her spirit loomed large over Buck and Natalia IMO, and that is Ali. The reason why she and Buck broke up after 218 is because at the end of the day, she couldn’t accept the choices he had made in his professional life (hoping he would move on from firefighting). In the same way, Natalia revealed in this ep that she can’t accept Buck’s choices in his personal life. A small reminder the only partner we’ve ever witnessed truly seeing and accepting Buck, in every aspect of his life, has been Eddie. ~~
Another funny thing about this (911 is a comedy, y’all) is how Natalia flees the second she comes across Kameron. I mean, this is in addition to the hilarity of the death doula’s first name connecting her to birth and to all things natal, yet she flees the second that she sees a pregnant lady. Because if this is Natalia’s reaction when it comes to a bio kid that Buck explicitly said he is not going to raise, what would she do once she realizes he co-parents a fully grown kid? (and a very sassy one, too. LBR, Natalia doesn’t stand a chance in a show down with either Diaz boy) ~~
Much like Natalia doesn’t seem like the right fit for Buck based on this ep (or based on 616), neither does Marisol. Can I point out the fact that Eddie’s disapproval in the last ep of Buck dating Natalia applies here, too? They both met these women on calls. Second, Eddie wanted it to happen naturally, which is why it’s so lame he tried through all sorts of activities that he’s not ACTUALLY into and wouldn’t continue doing past the initial stage of meeting someone else. And that holds true for Marisol as well. We saw that her brother and her are very into DYI, which I guess was meant to lay the groundwork for Eddie running into her in a DYI shop. But the thing is, Eddie himself isn’t into this! Sure, he can do it, because as a single dad he’s had to, but it’s not something we’ve ever seen him being passionate about. He’s only at this store because of Christopher’s project. And then once more, just like he steps away from Pepa’s help, dating apps and chooses the wost places for a chance romantic connection, he walks away from Marisol even when the whole scene plays out as if she’s the climax of his search throughout this whole ep. This might all hint that despite initial appearances, just like the people he came across while golfing and hiking wouldn’t be the right fit, Marisol wouldn’t be either. Even more importantly, just like Ana at first appeared like she would be perfect for Eddie in 312, starting out in a “it just happened” sort of way and with supposedly being fated because she happened to guess correctly that Eddie stands for Edmundo, this thing with Marisol might look in the moment like it’s exactly what he was looking for, but it will fizzle out as well.
~~ (my weekly meta posts) (my Buddie gifs) (all of my content)
~~ My tag list will follow in the reblog, please let me know if you wanna be added/removed here.
~~ Thank you from the bottom of my heart to the incredible @whosoldherout, there are no words to describe how much I love your gifs and appreciate you!
~~ Thank you to anyone supporting these meta posts. I could never express enough how grateful I am and that they continue to exist thanks to you!
#buddie#911meta#911 on abc#911 abc#buddie meta#911 meta#911abc#9-1-1#evan buckley#eddie diaz#911onabc#911#911 spoilers#wm#buddie gif#buddieedit#911edit#911 gif#911 gifs#buddie gifs
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🔞 Minors DNI 🔞
A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.
CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.
Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1
Chapter 52 - Rapid Fire Nut Machine
This is just smut.
Word Count: ~5.4k
A/N: WE ARE SO BACK! Thanks you your patience 💕
After several hours of being lost in thought, almost dozing off as you waited, you finally got your answer as to who had won what you assumed was an inevitable fight between Kid and Kamazo. You heard his eerie laughter echoing through the destroyed village, a singular set of heavy footfalls on the dirt road getting louder as as he got closer. You didn't bother to cloak yourself, if he wanted to find you he would have no problem doing so with his haki, but he also had no real reason to find you. At least you hoped that was the case. If Kid was dead, you were probably of no use to him either. But maybe he just wanted revenge for knocking him out, maybe his bloodlust was bringing him to you.
Regardless, as he got closer you pulled your dagger from the harness on your thigh, superheating the blade until it was searingly hot as the bandaged face of Kamazo came into view through the half-collapsed doorway, like something from a horror film. You held your breath steady the way you'd been taught in the marines, you wouldn't let him have the satisfaction of scaring you, or taking your life. If it was you versus him, so be it, you had a daughter waiting for you. Killer would understand, he'd sacrifice himself a thousand times over to save you, he would never fault you for killing the pretender who had taken control of his body.
Kamazo eyed the blade warily as he stooped to pass under the doorframe, approaching you slowly with a short laugh. Your hand was shakier than you expected as you pointed your dagger at him, and you swore you saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes as they flicked between you and the white-hot blade. Try as you might, your fear was beginning to set in, but it wasn't fear of death. Your devil fruit outmatched him tenfold. It was fear of killing the man who wore your lover's face that really scared you.
“Don't come any closer,” you warned, “I don't want to fight you, but I fuckin’ will. I won't let you keep me from my daughter.”
“Is Dawn okay? Fa-fa-fa-fa,” he asked, his voice a little choked. Your brows raised a little, knife lowering slightly at the unexpected question.
“She's- she's fine,” you replied hesitantly.
“And you?” He took a slow step towards you, making you back up and raise your blade again, “[Y/n], are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I'm fine,” you spat, “no thanks to you, or Kid.”
“He told me he hit you,” he sighed before a short bout of laughter took him. He coughed as he struggled to suppress it, shaking his head like he was bothered with himself before turning his attention back to you. “I told him to stay away while I came to find you, he's cooling off in that house he said you showed him. Are you okay? Did he badly hurt you?”
Something was off about Kamazo. He was too calm, too quiet, too in control of his movements. He should have attacked you by now. And… he called you by your name. Your real name, the one only those closest to you knew, shared with them in an act of love and trust. Your blade cooled as it lowered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you looked carefully at his icy blues and recognized the love in them that had been missing during your previous encounters.
“Killer?” You whispered, like if you spoke too loudly you might scare away the small dash of hope you had. Killer let out a deep sigh of relief and nodded as he stepped towards you, quickly stopping as he saw the way you recoiled. “Please- please don't touch me,” you quickly stuttered, eyes pointed at the floor, “you look like… him.”
It took a moment for Killer to understand what you meant, before he started tearing the bandages from his face and the ones that held his hair in a tight ponytail. Deciding that still wasn't enough, he stripped his clothes off too, dumping his cloak and kimono to the floor and kicking off his shoes, leaving him in only the local traditional version of underwear. He looked more like himself now, his bangs in their rightful place hanging over his face, his goatee fluffy as ever, though the usually well groomed sides of his face were overgrown and rugged. On his arm was the same scar he'd gotten protecting you from that dragon creature, what felt like an age ago. Across his chest was a deep gash, red and angry and barely scabbed over, though it didn't seem to bother him much.
“Kil, you're hurt,” you said softly, taking a nervous step towards him.
“I'm okay,” he replied, carefully holding your arms as you reached out to inspect his wound, “are you okay?”
“I am now,” you sniffed, before letting him embrace you properly as a sob broke harshly from you, “I was so scared, I thought they broke you for good. I'm sorry for knocking you out.”
“You did what you had to,” he replied, pressing a kiss into your hair as he slid your visor off, flicking your seastone bracelet for you, “I wasn't me, you had to protect yourself. Fa-fa-fa-fa.” Killer growled softly to himself at the laughter, “sorry, I can't control the laughing.”
“I know, it's okay,” you sniffed, cupping his face with your hands, stroking your thumbs over his cheeks, “I know they made you eat a defective SMILE. I'm so sorry Kil, I tried to find a fix but I just kept killing them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The SMILE, it's changing your brainwaves,” you explained, “I can feel them, and I can feel where they get muddled, but when I tried to alter them on a few other SMILE fruit victims I accidentally killed them instead.”
“Ah, I see,” he hummed, “it's fine. I've got you in my arms, that's all that matters. Where's Dawnie?”
“The Heart Pirates are looking after her for me,” you sighed. Killer sensed your exhaustion and guided you to sit on the floor, pulling you into his lap so he could hold you properly and wrapping his cloak around you both. “Do you… do you know if Heat is alive?”
“He was last time I saw him, fa-fa-fa-fa-fa,” Killer soothed you, rubbing your back with gentle circles. Just being close to him was a balm, hearing his familiar steady heartbeat and his calming voice, even despite the random bouts of laughter. “They were keeping us all alive, in the hopes that Kid would crack and Kaido would gain a crew's worth of subordinates. They're near the capital. We'll go to find them tomorrow, Kid wants to rest first.”
“I don't give a shit what Kid wants,” you growled. Killer sighed heavily before tilting you back and lifting your shirt to inspect the bruise Kid had given you.
“He didn't mean it,” Killer insisted, inspecting the fist sized patch of purple skin, “and I know he regrets it. Just give him time to pull his head out of his ass, fa-fa-fa-fa.”
“He's a fucking asshole,” you grumbled, pulling your shirt down and nuzzling back into Killer's chest.
“You're not wrong, fa-fa-fa-fa,” that laugh may have perhaps been genuine. His head rested against yours as he squeezed you tighter to him, breathing in your comforting scent. He was at least glad that he didn't remember a great deal of the last month, it made it easier to ignore his hurting heart. It made him feel for you though, you hadn't been as lucky; all on your own, no doubt scared and lonely and having to protect his daughter all on your own. “I love you, [y/n],” he whispered, “thank you for coming to get us. And for not letting us drown. Kid is thankful too, he just needs to get his shit together, he's been through a lot as well. I'm sorry for putting you both through so much bullshit.”
“It's not your fault, it's Kaido's,” you grumbled, “I'm gonna kill that fucking snake.”
“Kid wants to go after him as well, once we find the others,” Killer hummed, “you don't have to do this on your own anymore.”
“I missed you, Kil,” you sniffed, turning in his lap so you could bury your face in his shoulder, “I was so fucking scared.” Killer shifted uncomfortably at your movement and you quickly realised why, feeling the hardness between your legs as you shifted to straddle his lap. You looked down between your bodies, seeing the clear tent that was barely contained by his fundoshi. “Oh.” You said quietly.
“Sorry…fa-fa-fa-fa,” Killer cleared his throat and looked away, like he was ashamed of himself, “here you are spilling out your heart after what must have been a fucking awful month, and I can't control my fucking cock.”
“It's okay Kil,” you soothed, reaching down to free his erection, making him let out a stuttered breath as you took it in your hand. It was so pleasantly heavy in your palm, you'd forgotten how pretty his cock was. “Let me warm you,” you whispered in a sultry tone, pulling aside your panties and lining him up. You'd missed him so bad, it didn't take much to get you wet just thinking about feeling him inside you.
“You don't have to do that,” he bit his lip as you sank down torturously slowly, letting out a long groan and closing his eyes as your cunt moulded around him. There was a sting from lack of preparation, but the pleasure of being connected to your lover after so long apart far outweighed it. His hands rested on your thighs as you met his base, and you let out a soft sigh as his thumbs rubbed circles on your skin. “Fuck, I forgot how good your cunt feels.”
“I missed having you fill me,” you sighed contently as you wrapped your arms around his waist and rested your head against his chest. His heart was beating much faster now, you weren't surprised. If his month had been anything like Kid's, he probably hadn't had a moment to himself and was immensely pent up, it was no wonder he got hard so easily. As though to emphasise your thoughts, Killer pressed his face against your shoulder, groaning as his grip on your thighs tightened.
“Please,” he whimpered, desperate to feel you riding him. He didn't need to beg any further, he felt so good inside you that you couldn't help but raise your hips. Kid was right, what you'd done with him was purely comfort. This was different; with your lover inside you, you felt more complete than you had in weeks. You wished Heat was here beside you as well, but you were thankful that you at least had this moment to share with Killer. To feel his warm body against yours and his hot breath on your ear as his hands guided you to rise and fall, his cheek pressed against yours, sweat mingling between your bodies. You turned your head slightly to meet his eyes, half lidded as yours were, but full of love and adoration.
You weren't sure who kissed who, but your lips were crashing together in a wet and desperate manner. His tongue was quick to seek entry and your own was eager to rub against his, whining into his mouth as he moved one hand to circle your clit with his thumb. “Fuck,” he groaned as he pulled away, his forehead pressed against yours, his hand on your cheek to hold you close, “I can't, I can't-”
“Do you want me to stop?” You asked, a sad tint to your voice. Maybe it was too soon, maybe he'd been through things you couldn't fathom and it was too much for him.
“NO!” he shouted quickly, “don't stop, fuck, please don't stop. I just- I can't hold back much longer. Fuck, I'm- I'm gonna cum.”
“Me too,” you whined, the coil in the pit of your stomach pulling tighter and tighter by the second, “cum with me, cum with me.”
“Fuck, I love you [y/n],” Killer cried out before capturing your mouth again, thrusting up into you with increasing desperation and rubbing your clit hard. He held back as long as he could, but your pussy fluttering and contracting around him was too much, and the deep moan you let out into his mouth was all the permission he needed as you shook. He replied with his own moans, shuddering as he spilled out inside you, immediately wrapping his arms around you and holding you close as you stilled, both of you panting hard and using the other's shoulder as support. The two of you stayed like that for a long time, his cock softening but kept warm inside you, neither of you willing to break that connection of bodies after a month apart. No words were spoken, because none needed to be said. The way he held you told you everything you needed to know. You were safe, you were held, and everything was going to be okay.
You spent the night wrapped in Killer's arms, neither of you willing to let go of the other, just overly thankful to have each other back. Killer had laid down his kimono to insulate against the rotting floor, pulling his coat over you both as a blanket, the purple fluff on the collar tickling your face as you woke. You almost screamed as you opened your eyes properly and realised Kid was sitting right there on the other side of Killer. Your sudden jolt woke the blonde, immediately putting him in fight mode as he grabbed Kid and raised his fist ready to punch. He let out a heavy breath as he realised it was just Kid, shoving him away with an annoyed groan and laying back down.
“For fucksake Kid,” Killer grumbled, pulling his kimono on to wrap around himself, while you hastily gathered your own clothes and dressed, “what happened to ‘DO NOT LEAVE THIS ROOM’?”
“I got bored,” Kid huffed like an indignant child, “and I thought you'd come back last night. I missed you too, you know.”
“You punched my girlfriend,” Killer replied flatly, “you can spend one fucking night on your own like a big boy, since you wanna go around acting like a big tough guy.”
“Alright, whatever, I'm sorry okay!” Kid yelled.
“I'm not the one you have to apologise to, fa-fa-fa-fa,” Killer responded, looking at you. Kid huffed but followed Killer's line of sight. He met your eyes for a moment before his shyed away, scratching the back of his head awkwardly at his guilt. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He grumbled something inaudible under his breath and Killer smacked him over the back of his head.
“Fuck! You ain't gotta hit me!” Kid snapped.
“I could say the same,” you pouted.
“Okay, sorry, jeez,” Kid mumbled, “I was an asshole, I shouldn't have punched you. I'm sorry.”
“You're not forgiven,” you said plainly.
“What!?” Kid roared, “but I fuckin’ apologized! All genuine and shit!”
“Doesn't mean I have to forgive you,” you replied, “it took me months to learn to trust you, you think you can get that back after one fucking apology? I deserve retribution.”
“Fine, whatever,” Kid huffed, “what do you want then?”
You though about it for a moment before whispering something to Killer that Kid couldn't hear. “Yeah?” Killer replied, “you sure?”
“Mmhmm,” you confirmed, a mischievous sparkle in your eye.
Killer leaned to grab your mask, holding it out to you dangling on his index finger. You took it and slipped it on, flipping your bracelet to move the seastone away from your skin and turning your attention to Kid, who shifted nervously.
“Uh… what do you need your powers for?” He asked anxiously, eyes flicking between you and Killer, who's permanent smile looked distinctly more shit-eating as he watched you slink towards Kid.
“Kil, my love,” you purred, eyes on Kid, smile making him more and more unnerved as you crawled over Killer's lap towards him. “Do you remember when we fought that dragon, and you got hurt? The pain meds made you grabby, so what did I do?”
“You paralyzed me,” Killer smirked, watching Kid slowly lean back to avoid your threatening grin until he was flat against the floor, with you straddling his lap. Kid's eyes snapped to Killer at the revelation. “You had complete control over me, I couldn't do anything to touch you.”
“Mmm, I did, didn't I?” You cooed, running a single finger down Kid's bare chest. He swallowed hard as you tilted your head quizzically at him. “Your safe word is still ‘iron’, isn't it?”
“Yeah, but what do you ne-” Kid's sentence was cut short and his eyes went wide as his limbs suddenly all went numb, his metal arm hitting the floor with a heavy clank as he lost control of it. Try as he might, he couldn't do anything to move his arms or legs, only his neck was still working. “The fuck did you do?” he growled, though there was a hint of fear under it.
“Nothing permanent,” you cooed, unbuckling his belts, pulling each from its loops slowly. You felt Kid's dick twitch under you at the action, and felt the nerve signals that you were blocking as his brain tried to instinctively reach out his arms to touch you, to take control and fuck you the way he wanted to in response to your teasing. He groaned as you tugged his pants down, Killer helping to lift Kid's ass to free the fabric. Killer was having his own fun with Kid, flicking his nipples and leaning down to suck and bite on them. “You'll get your limbs back when you can prove you're a good boy,” you teased, taking Kid's hard cock in your hand and pumping it a few times. You ran your thumb over the leaking slit, before leaning down and taking the head in your mouth.
Only the head though, never going any further as you licked and sucked on it. Kid made frustrated growls as he tried to buck up into you, trying to get deeper into your warm, wet mouth, but entirely unable to do so. He was close to cracking, close to begging you to go further, but he was determined to not break. Killer was making it significantly harder for Kid, making bite marks and sucking hickies all over his chest. Killer kissed and nipped his way up Kid's neck, holding Kid's chin to keep him still and keep his neck exposed, leaving deep marks over the pale skin and undoing Kid's resolve as his teeth tugged on his ear lobe with a groan. “Please, please,” Kid whined, “I'll be good, I'll be good, fuck, please fuck me properly.”
“Hear that princess?” Killer smirked at you, “begging already.”
“He wants to cum so bad, maybe I'll let him,” you replied, giving Kid a look that did not make him feel relieved. “Go on then, cum.”
“I- can't just-” Kid began, before a wave of pleasure ran through his body and his cock suddenly spilled out, shooting ropes of cum over his stomach. His mind was reeling trying to figure out what had happened, before he remembered your very first meeting, when you'd made him and Killer cum without even touching them. “Fuck, fuck,” he panted at the sudden, intense orgasm.
“Say thank you,” Killer growled.
“T-thank you,” Kid whimpered as you took his cock in your hand again, now oversensitive from his orgasm. He couldn't usually get it up again instantly like that, but you forced the muscles to contract and encouraged the blood to flow back into it. “No- don't- fuck, give me a few minutes.”
“What's wrong?” You purred, “sensitive? You just a sensitive widdle guy?” You mocked. “Maybe another orgasm will help.”
“No, not ye- fuck, oh fuck,” Kid groaned as you forced him to cum again, his teeth gritted together as his seed dripped over your fingers. Killer took your hand and licked the cum from it, then he leaned down and kissed Kid, making him taste himself on the blonde's tongue. Kid's head chased Killer as he moved away, whining as he let his head fall back in defeat again. You'd already repeated the process of getting him hard again, and Kid was near crying from the overstimulation. Killer's blue eyes searched Kid's face, like he was looking for something.
“Again,” Killer said, making what parts of Kid's body he could feel all shiver. You took the suggestion and Kid groaned as he was forced to cum once again, his spend now thin and lacklustre.
“Please,” Kid whimpered. He didn't even know what he was begging for at this point - for you to stop, or to keep going, as every orgasm made him see white.
“Please?” You laughed, “okay then!” You repeated the process once more, thin liquid expelling from Kid as he finished once more, panting hard and squeezing his eyes shut. He seemed like he was close to calling it quits, but you still had a plan, the one you'd whispered to Killer. You stood over Kid, who looked at you with exhausted, half lidded eyes, still breathing hard as you undressed yourself in a sultry manner for him, and knelt to straddle him. Killer took his place behind you, between Kid's legs, kissing your bare back over the scar of your slave mark and running his hands over your thighs, working his way up them.
“I can't go again,” Kid whimpered, “please don't make me.”
“Mmm, you can have a little rest,” you tutted, “but you're not done yet.” Kid let out a stressed whine that made Killer laugh behind you.
Killer was unfastening his kimono, letting the fabric drape around his legs and fisting himself as he shuffled up behind you. He carded his cock through your wet folds a few times, groaning in your ear at how wet you were as his free hand splayed out over your stomach. You bent all the way over Kid, presenting yourself to Killer, and Kid whined under you as he watched your face contort and heard the satisfied sigh you made as Killer sheathed himself inside you. Your body was rocked back and forth as Killer began to fuck you, not wasting any time in forcing moans from you to tease the captain. Beneath you, Kid's cock was slowly coming back to life on its own as he watched you jostling and moaning above him, and heard the wet squelch of your cunt, your tits rubbing against his chest as you were moved.
“You still sure about this, princess?” Killer asked, slowing his thrusts a little.
“Mmmhmm,” you confirmed through moans, “I wanna.”
“Okay baby,” he replied, kissing the middle of your back before righting himself. He let a line of spit fall from his mouth to drip onto your ass, spreading it with his thumb to your virgin asshole. His thumb ran circles around it, and you whined at the foreign feeling as the digit sunk inside you. “Huh, you're more relaxed than I thought…” he noted as he was able to immediately switch to two fingers.
“I used my fruit,” you huffed through heavy breaths, face pressing against Kid's chest as Killer pumped his fingers in and out of your ass while still slowly fucking your cunt, “I relaxed the muscles.”
“Fun trick,” Killer purred, adding a third finger easily thanks to your devil fruit.
“Ey, what's going on back there?” Kid barked, feeling left out and ignored. He had his suspicions, and it was making him hard again just thinking about it, hoping you were planning what he thought you were planning, even if he was at the end of his teether.
“Killer's gonna fuck my ass,” you cooed at Kid, before biting and sucking on his neck. He let out a whine as you licked up to his ear, where your breath tickled the shell, “are you gonna be a good boy and fuck my cunt?” you purred, “I'll even give you back your limbs if you're very good. So how bout it captain, are you a good boy? Or do I need to keep punishing you?”
Kid immediately folded, there was no way he was missing out on your first double penetration. “I'm a good boy!” he shouted.
“You are, aren't you?” you cooed, “I can feel how hard you are against my belly, all by yourself, what a good boy!”
Killer pulled out of your cunt and used his fingers to transfer some of your arousal to your ass for lubrication, before spitting on his hand and fisting himself to coat his cock. You sat up and ground your cunt against Kid's erection, before tilting your pelvis to catch the tip of it, sinking down on Kid's cock as he groaned, his arm desperate to reach for you. Killer pressed gently against your shoulders to bend you over, pushing you down so your chest was flush with Kid's. You buried your face in Kid's shoulder as Killer lined his cock up with your ass, your visor cold against Kid's skin, before very slowly sliding inside you. Even though you'd relaxed the muscles, he was wary of hurting you since it was your first time. There was no need for him to worry though, your devil fruit made you more than prepared. It couldn't prepare you though for how full you would feel with both holes filled, and you let out a low pitched moan as Killer hit his base. The blonde swore to himself, gripping your hips bruisingly hard as his face pressed against your back.
Kid was whining and squirming under you, trying to will his limbs to work, trying and failing to activate his haki to counteract your fruit, the muscles on his torso all flexing and rippling as he struggled. His cock was buried inside you, but neither you or Killer were moving, purposefully torturing Kid. Your cunt felt tighter with Killer's dick pressing against his through a wall, and all he wanted to do was plant his feet and thrust up into you until you were screaming. “Not yet,” you teased, “you have to be patient, good boys are patient.”
Killer took that as his queue to start moving again, making you squeal and moan at the foreign feeling as he fucked your ass. You'd already been close to cumming before, but now you were dangerously close to the edge. Kid groaned as your cunt contracted around him, he could feel how close you were, you were going to cum on his cock without him even moving and it was driving him insane. Killer had your hips pinned to keep you from moving and giving Kid any satisfaction, but he was so sensitive from the previous orgasms that it didn't take much to build him up again, just the fluttering of your walls was doing it for him, and he was genuinely worried he was going to embarrass himself by unloading inside you before he'd even gotten the chance to thrust. Killer was watching him over your shoulder, and was familiar with the face Kid was making. He fucked you harder with purpose, knowing it would make your pussy clench more around Kid, daring him to cum.
“Fuck, Kil,” you moaned, your nails sinking into Kid's biceps where you were holding on for dear life, “gonna cum.”
“Good girl, princess,” Killer praised, “go on and cum baby.”
You bit down on Kid's neck as your pussy convulsed, and it was his undoing. Kid swore as he came inside you, barely anything to his release with nothing left in his balls to give, but it was enough to have him panting and swearing. You sat up a little and pouted at him. “That was not good boy behaviour,” you warned as you felt him going soft inside you. Kid could barely look at you, let alone respond; he was too spent. “Now I'm going to have to make you hard again, we're not done until Killer is satisfied. And you're not getting your limbs back.”
“No,” Kid whined, barely a whisper, as his cock was forced to become erect again. This time when Killer started moving again, you moved with him, matching his thrusts to ride Kid while Killer continued to fuck you. “Fuck, please,” Kid cried, “I can't, I can't, I'm all done.”
“And yet, I don't hear you using the safe word,” Killer tutted, “you're done when she says you're done.”
You bit back moans as both your holes were fucked, Killer doing a lot of the work for you by guiding your hips, pulling you back and forth to match his pace, fucking you on both his and Kid's cocks. You felt so deliciously full, it was incredible, every sensitive part inside you being pressed against, you couldn't wait to do this with Heat when you freed him. Given the use of your devil fruit though, you were quickly running out of energy. Killer could sense you fading, and bent forward to whisper in your ear, “Just a little longer, my love.” You replied with a tired “mmm” and gave yourself over to Killer's control, letting himself move you like a ragdoll. Kid was whimpering under you, his eyes squeezed shut at the overstimulation.
“Fuck, I'm close,” Killer groaned, “do it now, baby.”
With the last of your energy you once more used your devil fruit, this time forcing all three of you to experience orgasm at once. You'd never tried it on yourself, and it was the most intense release you'd ever had. You vaguely registered the men around you growling and groaning as you saw stars and your body shook, the men shaking either side of you as well as you released Kid's limbs from your control. His hand gripped your thigh hard as his head was thrown back, and Killer all but collapsed against your back, twitching and panting, his hot breath making your skin sticky.
“F-fuck,” he finally let out in a shakey voice, pulling out of you and collapsing on the floor beside Kid. You went limp against the captain, his cock softening inside you, and his arm wrapped around your waist protectively. The three of you laid there for what felt like an age, Killer at eventually curling closer into Kid and pulling his cloak over the three of you like a blanket. At some point you removed your mask to better relax against Kid's wide chest, your cheek pressed against his peck, listening to his heartbeat as it slowly evened out.
“I'm sorry, Yin,” Kid finally broke the silence, “I let you down as your captain, I fucked up. I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have hit you. Please don't leave the crew. You're too important, not as a weapon but as part of our family. You and Dawnie are our heart.”
“Mmm, I forgive you,” you replied with a yawn, touched by the genuine heartfelt apology, “but next time you hit me you can say goodbye to your remaining arm.”
“Fair enough,” Kid huffed a sigh of relief. Killer shuffled out of the cuddle pile, and you moved to follow, but he raised a hand to stop you.
“Rest a little longer,” he said, “I'm just gonna look at the map and figure out a plan for getting the crew and ship back.”
You happily did as he said and slept on Kid's chest, falling asleep to the rumbling sound in it as the two men discussed plans to rescue the others. His boobs made great pillows. When the boys were ready to move, they gently woke you, but just enough for Kid you put you on his back, letting you cuddle up against his fluffy coat to sleep a little longer as they made their way to the Flower Capital, Killer carrying your things for you and leading the way.
[NEXT CHAPTER]
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Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 15
Chapters: 15/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.
Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.
Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics
Tagging: @number-0-iz, @emarich7, @jaziona92. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.
You can also read this on AO3 if you feel more comfortable!
Warning: This chapter includes some detailed smut.
As the upcoming fashion show loomed and your days became increasingly packed, you found scant time to contemplate anything else. However, the emergence of an unfamiliar figure unsettled you.
Note: I needed to write this now, as I won't have another opportunity later to include Desire again until a certain point. I used the Dreamcast audio as reference again for their interaction.
I honestly don't know if smut can be incorporated during the Vortex part, so I thought to add more of it here.
Hob's eyes widened while gripping his tea cup. Following a few moments of blinking to regain his bearings, he gingerly set his mug aside. Then, fueled by a playful energy, he simulated an explosion by placing his hands around his head and even supplied his own sound effects.
With a smile and a nod of your head, you echoed his sentiments. "It's mind-blowing, I know"
"I might be an immortal, Shortcake, but you have your fair share of supernatural roots.”
"We are definitely not your everyday humans," you agreed, bursting into hearty laughter.
"It must be tough though, isn't it? To know that your mother has been around all this time," he carried on, his tone shifting to a more serious one.
"It is. But, now that I can think about it from a different perspective, I can at least understand why they had to keep it a secret."
It took you several days to digest your newfound revelation, but despite everything, you couldn't stay upset with your father who was merely doing his utmost to protect and care for you.
"You know, Hob, sometimes it feels like I've quantum leaped. It’s as if the reality I'm experiencing now is not the one I used to live in. I know it sounds a bit Star Trek-y, but..."
"No, no, I understand. You've undergone such significant changes recently. It makes me wonder if our dear friend had a hand in all this," he mused.
"Maybe not directly. To be honest, I can't even imagine where I'd be without him.”
Hob gifted you a warm smile, looking at you with a blend of care and understanding. "You truly do love him, don't you?”
"Immensely," you affirmed, your voice teeming with genuine sincerity.
"I could see a remarkable change in him, but I'm certain that you're also to thank for that," He noted thoughtfully.
“I didn’t do anything, really.”
"The only time I tried to get him to confide in me, he shied away. I still don't know exactly how you two met, but he adores you. That much is clear.”
A faint blush quietly spread across your cheeks as you savored your tea. Even though Morpheus typically kept a guarded demeanor, it was comforting to realize that his affection for you was evident to others.
However, an abrupt thought caused you to falter, prompting a moment of hesitation before you ventured to raise the subject. You debated whether it could be inconsiderate to mention it, but your curiosity was as potent as the infamous curiosity that led to the cat's downfall, a sentiment frequently echoed by Ella.
And so, you chose to bring it up.
“Hob, can I ask you something?”
“Of course, Shortcake. What is it?”
You glanced downward, your grip on your cup tightening. "Wasn't it difficult for you, having to see the ones you loved grow old and pass away?"
You almost chastised yourself mentally when you saw a trace of sadness cross his eyes. Nevertheless, he composed himself and provided you with his answer.
"Yes, it was. But not once did I consider giving up on love."
"So you managed to move on, to fall in love again... and again."
"I know where this is going," Hob interjected, disrupting your whirlpool of emotional musings. "I speak from experience when I say that he will never truly be able to move on from you."
"I know that he won't forget. It's just..."
"It’s not comforting, I get it.”
You stared at the tea, its still surface seeming to mirror your somber expression.
"It's stupid. I made my choice fully aware of what I was signing up for.”
"We may understand the consequences, Y/N, but they won't be enough to deter us from getting what we want," Hob declared, his voice a blend of wisdom and melancholy. “Look at me. I could have left this city, even this entire Country, long ago. I could have avoided undue stress and accusations of practicing witchcraft. I could have ceased the charade of pretending to be my own descendant, and yet... I made the decision to stay. To meet new people, knowing that I would never get old.”
A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you listened.
"What's the purpose of immortality if it means spending your life alone? You could follow in my footsteps and ask to never die. Wouldn't that be an interesting adventure?" Hob suggested, trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes, you've brought that up before.”
"Have you given it any thought?”
"No, not yet. I just can't envision myself living forever.”
Could you even bear to remain stationary like Hob did? How would you maintain your friendships, career, and every other aspect of life without the incessant need to explain your lack of aging? You truly admired Hob's perseverance, although it was something you likely wouldn't be able to replicate. The idea of being Morpheus' sole love for all of eternity was enticing, yet the choice to accept immortality was not something you were ready to undertake.
Hob tenderly encircled your wrist with his hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. His eyes sparkled with a joyful glint as he regarded you.“You never know, my friend. You never know.”
As more days began to turn into weeks, your workload steadily mounted. The preparations for the fashion show were progressing seamlessly and at a satisfactory pace, yet you could palpably sense the rising tide of disquiet in the atmosphere.
You lost track of the times you had to prevent Ella from nervously scratching her skin. As she repeatedly revised the lineup, her anxiety levels soared to unprecedented heights. The event bore great importance for the company, being the first major show in which the Corbyn&Jones brand was participating. You couldn't really blame her for feeling swamped, considering your situation was quite alike.
Your name was slated to be highlighted as the sole creator of the show's exclusive collection, and Ella had discussed the potential this could have in advancing your career as a designer, along with the enormity of the situation that was just now beginning to sink in.
At last able to take a respite from the organizing, you sauntered towards the lounge area with some coffee, hoping to replenish your energy. As you entered the room, you noticed one of your colleagues, Freya, absorbed in her tablet, barely acknowledging your arrival. She appeared to be immersed in deep thought, sighing from time to time, projecting an aura of concern and distress.
She was known for her vibrant energy in the office. Seeing her so dispirited now, you couldn't help but intervene.
"Hey Freya, are you okay?" You inquired, cautiously settling next to her.
Oh, Y/N," she responded, turning her head and managing to conjure up a strained smile. "Yes, I'm fine.”
Judging by the faint redness surrounding her eyes, barely concealed by her makeup, it was easy for you to tell that the truth was far from what she claimed.
"No, something's off. Would you like to talk about it?”
She let out another lengthy, wavering sigh. "I... it's nothing, really. It's ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous if it makes you cry.”
Freya offered a self-deprecating chuckle, hastily blinking away the tears welling in her eyes before meeting your gaze squarely.
"I've received an invitation to a friend's wedding,” she disclosed. "It’s happening in two weeks. We've been close since middle school, you see… and I just know that if I decline the invite, she'll lash out at me.”
"Is there a specific reason behind your reluctance to attend her wedding?”
Freya sniffled, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. She then tapped on her tablet's screen and extended the device towards you.
"This is the dress she selected for all the bridesmaids, including me.”
You stared at the image in disbelief, taking in the red monstrosity displayed in front of you. The design itself wasn't inherently ugly, but to say that it was unsuitable for a bridesmaid would be a gross understatement.
"Wait. You’re joking, right? She expects her bridesmaids to wear this?”
She nodded. "I’d look like shit.”
"That’s not true. The problem here is that such a dress is far from an appropriate choice for a wedding. Does she really want her guests to be focused on you ladies when she's supposed to be the center of attention?”
"She's quite controlling and insists on having everything her way, regardless of others' feelings or opinions. She always had a thing for showy stuff, and her wedding is far from modest too.”
You placed the tablet down. "Have you talked to her about it? If her fashion choices diverge significantly from your style and make you feel uncomfortable, she should respect your sentiments.”
"Oh, I have, but she's as stubborn as a mule.”
She was justifiably upset, but beyond that, you could see how appalled she was at the prospect of potentially having to don an attire that simply wouldn't suit her, or any other bridesmaid with a shred of good taste.
"Freya, this isn't right. A good friend should consider the way you feel. I understand that this is her wedding, but she cannot expect all of you to comply without voicing any objections.”
She diverted her gaze, toying with the golden bracelet that adorned her wrist. "Y/N, have you really taken a good look at me?”
“Yes?”
"All my friends could easily pass for magazine models, while I've always been the black sheep in the group. Quite literally.”
You pursed your lips, feeling a surge of heat coursing through your body. "Freya, you don’t realize how incredible and beautiful you are, do you?”
“You don’t need to flatter me.”
Her voice bore a trace of irritation, indicating that she felt somehow offended.
"It's not a matter of needing to, it's simply how I see you.”
She lapsed into silence.
"Listen, if attending her wedding means that you have to wear something you hate, then don't go.”
“I can’t do that, Y/N.”
"Why? Just because she demands your presence? It's clear that she doesn't value your opinion, or you as a person. So why should you care about her reaction if you refuse?”
"It's..." she hesitated. "...not that simple.”
Witnessing her lack of self-assurance was heart-wrenching, especially considering she was one of the first members of the team who embraced you as part of the family from day one. Freya was kind-hearted, humorous, perpetually cheerful, and tackled her job with a positive attitude every single day. Despite her struggles to recognize her own beauty, you couldn't really pinpoint a single flaw in her.
Consequently, realizing that her supposed best friend was the source of her distress and suffering, fueled your resolve to take action, any action, to restore her joy and self-assurance.
"I assume she's chosen red as the color scheme for all of you?”
"Yes, she wants this thing in red."
"What if you opt for a different dress, one that maintains the elegant yet sexy style and color, but without being as revealing?”
"Oh no, she would absolutely go nuts. She's set on this dress, period. That's just how her mind functions.”
You huffed. "Look, Freya, whether you attend her wedding or not is entirely your choice. But you really shouldn't let her exert this level of control over you. Let me try something, I have an idea.”
Her eyes expanded in astonishment. "Wait, what? You're not planning to design something for me, are you?”
“Why not?”
“Uhh…. because you're already swamped with work between our new collections and the show?”
Getting up from the couch, you dismissed her concerns with a wave of your hand. "I can do it in my spare time, it's no trouble at all.”
"But...”
"No buts. Allow me to do this for you. And if you're not convinced, then I'll let the matter rest.”
Freya found herself flustered and at a loss for words, searching for an appropriate thing to say but failing to find one.
In the end, she acquiesced. "Okay.”
"Just give me a few days, I'll create something for you that will spark jealousy among all your friends. Even the bride.”
As you finished your coffee and exited the room, you picked up the sound of her voice uttering your name. She leaped from the couch with all the haste she could gather, bolting after you, her eyes ablaze with a fresh spark of hope.
"How do you do it?” She queried, her breath labored from the unexpected exertion.
You weren't entirely certain about the implication behind her question. “Do what?”
“You're always attentive and take everything to heart. Even when Maya did all those horrible things, you urged us to forgive her and uplifted our spirits.”
You quietly listened.
"How do you manage to be so compassionate in a world like this?”
You didn't require a moment's thought for that, as the answer was an innate response to you. Now, more than ever, you grasped the foundation of something you had always taken for granted, something that had been ingrained in your being since birth.
And for the first time, after many years of believing it to be your worst flaw that would bring nothing but disaster, you felt a wave of pride in possessing it.
Your smile broadened and your eyes shimmered under the soft lighting of the corridor. "It runs in the family.”
In the subsequent week, your inventive mind remained persistently active during your time at home, outside office hours. You functioned much like a machine at full throttle, failing to switch off, with only brief intermissions for meals or nightly rest. Serving as a maid for Alex Burgess had conditioned you for prolonged hours and demanding tasks. But now, your heart and mind were wholly immersed in the endeavor, and you found immense satisfaction in your accomplishments.
One night, you were so engrossed in your creation that you didn't notice Morpheus silently materializing behind you, moving with the stealth of a cat as he cautiously advanced towards your desk. He tuned into the sound of your pencil gliding across the paper with precision, observing how you swept your hair back and tucked it behind your ear, revealing a portion of your neck that he couldn't help but gaze at. He absorbed your occasional hums as you scrutinized your sketch, and the rhythm of your steady breathing that resonated directly with his heart.
When he softly murmured your name, in a low tone like a tender melody, you lifted your head and partially turned in your chair, discovering the King of Dreams standing near you, appearing contemplative and unsure.
The genuine happiness you felt upon seeing him reverberated throughout your room. "Hi!”
Morpheus pouted. As he typically did. Oh, how much you cherished that expression of his.
“You are not in bed.”
You shot him a puzzled glance. "Uh... no. Wait, what time is it?”
As you extended your hand to grasp your phone, unlocking the screen to inspect the LED, you emitted a startled gasp at the sight that greeted you. The white numbers at the top of the display glaringly read 3 AM.
How could you be so absorbed in what you were doing that you didn't even realize it was well past your bedtime?
"Sorry… I was distracted.”
You closed your sketchbook, pushing your chair back to stand up. Morpheus remained immobile, and as you rose to your full height, your lips came close to his.
“You were not in the Dreaming,” he murmured.
Although this wasn't his first time checking on you for burning the midnight oil, it was undeniably the longest you had kept awake in a considerable while. Knowing his worry about the possible repercussions for you, given his past experiences with Nada, a pang of guilt ebbed at you for not being more mindful.
"I know… I lost track of time. I'm getting ready now, promise. Could you wait for me?”
Morpheus nodded in agreement, but held his position without moving.
You brushed his cool fingers with your own, tenderly taking his hands into yours and placing a gentle kiss at the corner of his lips. As always, he softened at your touch, reciprocating your gesture and holding you tighter, his thumbs gently stroking your knuckles.
It was a repeated exchange to which you had become accustomed, but it never lost its charm. His scent, the paradoxical coolness and warmth he exuded, his voice, his mere presence. You craved all of it as much as the air you breathed.
"I'll see you in a bit," you announced, reluctantly releasing him and unzipping your hoodie. The moment you retreated to the bathroom, washing off your makeup, cleansing your face and slipping into the comfort of your nightgown, he had already vanished, evaporated, awaiting you in his realm.
The moment you sank into the mattress, turning off the light and being soothed by the softness of the covers, it was only a matter of minutes before sleep overtook you. You remembered those times when you failed to surrender to your fatigue, the insomnia that Morpheus' imprisonment had caused. It was all gone, nothing more than a distant memory, a story that you hoped no one would ever have to experience again.
You were eager to reunite with him, deep within the Dreaming. A world that felt like home.
When your eyes fluttered open, you found yourself still lying in your bed, your vision gradually adjusting to the darkness. The lights seeping in through the window began to illuminate parts of your room, but as you rolled over, something felt out of the ordinary.
You were unable to discern exactly what was wrong, as everything seemed to be positioned correctly. However, there was an indistinct fuzziness, a sensation of floating that left you questioning the authenticity of your wakefulness.
A dark silhouette emerged at the end of the bed, but before you could react with a heart-stopping scream, you quickly recognized Morpheus, watching you with a dignified posture. You held your breath, barely blinking, awaiting his next move or words.
Then, very quietly, he moved onto the mattress with the agility of a stealthy predator. Yet, you were far from feeling like a frightened prey.
You propped yourself up, the covers sliding down from your chest. "Am I dreaming?”
"You are," he responded, inching ever closer to your form, his right hand tracing the outline of your covered legs.
"You're not an illusion, are you?”
He offered you a faint smile. "No.”
“Good. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”
His hand reached the hem of the covers, shifting them down, further and further, until more of your body was exposed. The nightgown felt peculiarly warm, enveloping you like a cozy bath.
"I'm intrigued. Why choose this setting?”
"I wanted to offer you something more... familiar, for this occasion.”
You chuckled, biting your lower lip as you could already feel the arousal stirring within you. How could you lose your composure in such a way, just by watching his face inching closer to yours?
"And, what exactly is this occasion...?”
Morpheus looked intensely into your eyes, brimming with hunger and love for you.
"You desire me, Y/N," he revealed. "I can sense it.”
As much as you felt inclined to deny it, you realized just how fervently you needed to feel him against you. Given your work commitments and his responsibilities as the King of Dreams, the time you could allocate for each other was rather restricted, let alone for intimacy. Consequently, you were left to savor quick exchanges of affection that only intensified your craving for more.
It was truly maddening, but it couldn't be helped.
And in a way, it was somewhat exciting.
"I could claim that it's not true, but you're in my head right now," you stated, wearing a smile. "And quite frankly, I would never deny you.”
Morpheus moved closer, nudging you back against the mattress with a mere push of his fingers. Your body was under his enchantment, one that you didn't have the slightest wish to break.
"Please, allow me to attend to you.”
You swallowed, feeling your nightgown being lifted, its fabric brushing against your skin as it rolled up.
"What about you?”
"This is your dream," he replied. "All of this, is for you.”
His hands continued to guide the fabric upward until it reached your breasts, allowing it to rest just above your nipples, while he took in the sight of the rest of your body, completely bare, spread out before him like the most delectable of treats.
For a fleeting moment, you wondered about the whereabouts of your underwear, but you conjectured that he might have conveniently made it vanish. Regardless, you had no qualms about it.
“Morpheus-”
“Shh.”
His lips grazed your cheekbone, tracing a path along your jawline, chin, and down to your neck. You felt his middle and forefinger glide down your stomach, lightly tickling your navel and moving lower past your belly. You glanced down, admiring his long digits as they continued their exploration, but just when you anticipated they would venture directly to your sensitive center, they veered off course and moved towards your thigh.
Your breathing quickened, your heart pounded fiercely, and your legs instinctively parted for him when his hand encircled your knee. Your nipples were continuously rubbing against the nightgown, generating an exquisite friction between them and the silky material. His touch was tantalizing, deliberately slow and feather-light, escalating the tension you felt emanating from your core. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was executing it impeccably well. Never before had you imagined a lustful dream could be so satisfying.
At last, his fingers began to glide forward, and his other hand slipped under the nightgown to cradle the curve of your breast. The sensation you experienced when his thumb just barely swiped over your nipple was electrifying, but the way your body jerked, quivered, and twitched didn't seem to faze him in the least.
Even though your senses were considerably amplified in your dream state, your body had always been especially receptive to a man's touch. Morpheus had ceaselessly demonstrated that your pleasure was paramount above all else, and yet, it continued to feel incredibly mesmerizing. You couldn't tell if it was owing to his magical essence or an exceptional degree of restraint, but his consistent focus on giving rather than receiving was truly exceptional.
Your fingers gripped the bedsheets when he explored your labia, outlining its shape yet not fully delivering the pleasure you wanted. As his other thumb maintained its attentive caress on your nipple, your back curved gracefully. The sensations were so vivid and intense that you feared you might awaken prematurely, preventing the dream from reaching its climax and interrupting what Morpheus had initiated.
You let out a moan, a curse forming between your teeth as his fingers found your clit, establishing a steady, gentle rhythm that you thought would never suffice, but soon produced that familiar tingle that signaled it wouldn't take long for you to let loose. Even with the most tender of touches, with his fingers lightly stroking your clitoris up and down, sweetly, gently, Morpheus was offering you the universe.
Your legs parted even further, his long coat billowing out behind him, as if intending to enfold the two of you. He paused, guiding one finger towards your entrance, probing it gently to reach your delicate spot inside, akin to pressing a switch to light you up. Your pleasure escalated, not quite enough to trigger your orgasm, but sufficient to make your clit pulse and your whole body tremble in ecstasy. He remained so tranquil, so concentrated, so solemn and silent. You felt as though you were one of his masterpieces, sculpted like a work of art, the most exquisite of dream creatures under his guardianship.
He moved back to your hood, lifting it and stroking his moistened fingers over the sensitive bud underneath, yet again, without increasing his pace or exerting any substantial pressure.
The familiar feeling of satisfaction was approaching, teetering on the brink of release, but just barely eluding your grasp. You brought your hand to his chest, feeling the fabric of his shirt, and moving to his collarbones. Your lips parted, silently pleading to be kissed, only to be instantly met by his own in a sensual and heated choreography.
The Moonstone pendant served as a beacon, enveloping both of you and your environment in its radiant blues and whites. It was so potent that tiny particles of light emanated from it, creating a protective halo around you.
"You're amazing," you confessed against his mouth. "Has anyone ever told you that?”
Morpheus seemed momentarily speechless, pausing his movements, but keeping his fingers connected to your core.
"That is not a word I have often heard used to describe me.”
Your head flopped back onto the pillow, feeling defeated. "Seriously, what's wrong with everyone?”
"You may be the first to see me as more than just the King of Nightmares.”
"Nightmares? What you’re giving to me right now is far from a nightmare.”
You kissed him again to emphasize your point, reaching for the hand that was securely cupping your breast. "You are Dream of The Endless. My Dream.”
He inhaled shakily as his eyes gleamed, and his fingers resumed their ministrations on your clit. Despite their touch maintaining a consistent tenderness, barely grazing your skin, the rhythm of his movements hastened. Processing it was unfeasible as the slick strokes rapidly kindled the sparks, triggering your orgasm to erupt beneath his fingertips. It surged up to the nipple he persistently stimulated, and dispersed into a serene state of bliss.
It might have been a dream, but it felt unequivocally spectacular.
He patiently waited for your pleasure to subside, and then, he retracted his hands from you. He grasped the wrinkled fabric of your nightgown, pulling it down, the creases miraculously straightening as it outlined the contours of your body.
Your haziness was intensifying, indicating that the Waking World was beginning to reclaim you. You resisted it, maintaining your focus on him as he observed you, clenching your hands into fists and drawing in a deep breath to anchor yourself.
You felt fulfilled, satisfied, and thoroughly cared for.
However, he did not.
Despite his desire to make everything solely about you, you couldn't accept it as fair. Therefore, you shifted yourself into a more vertical position, tugging the Endless towards you by his coat. This movement prompted him to position himself above you, taking care not to impose his entire weight on your smaller frame.
"Y/N-"
"Shh.”
This time, the roles were reversed, and it was you who hushed him to continue.
"I understand that you wanted this to be about me. But, despite it being my dream, we're still in your domain.”
You extended your hand towards the back of his neck, weaving your fingers through his short tresses. "I'm going to wake up soon, but before I do... let me give you something in return.”
You didn't wait for his reply. By the time he parted his lips, your hand was already making its way towards the button of his trousers.
He made no effort to stop you, allowing you to unfasten his garments, unveiling his eager arousal springing forth, ready and needy. How unfair would it be to leave him unattended, untouched, overlooked?
Morpheus was desperate for you, hungering for your touch.
Your nose brushed against his as you maintained your grip around his neck for support (and comfort), and your fingers promptly encircled the head of his member. His legs, straddling you, tensed and stiffened the moment you glided your hand down to the base, only to replicate the motion several more times. As much as it pained you, you couldn't afford the same level of tender and unhurried strokes. At any second, you could be thrust back into your real bed, and you didn't want to risk waking before he reached his own peak.
The way he groaned, so faintly, imperceptibly, holding himself back, was something you found incredibly appealing. You drew him even closer, accelerating your pace, ensuring that all his most sensitive regions were stimulated.
You continued your ministrations, increasing the speed, feeling the pull of the Waking World, akin to invisible ropes winding around you. You resisted once more, concentrating on the moist sounds your hand produced against his hardness, on his lips tenderly brushing yours as soft as a tender brush on a canvas.
You loved every single part of it.
And just when you thought you might not finish in time, that he would be left there alone, unsatisfied, forsaken in his desires, the perfect touch on his tense underside drove him to that delectable edge that you both longed for. His hips jerked forward repeatedly, his eyes clamped shut, his mouth letting out a few low grunts that intermingled with your breath.
In due course, your hand reduced its speed until it ceased entirely, but it remained connected to him as he softened. You gently scratched his scalp with your nails, playfully tousling his hair, and planted a kiss upon his forehead.
You released a joyful laugh when he curved his lips, looking absolutely content and thoroughly satisfied. You went on to pepper his face with even more kisses, whispering about your immense love for him, your fortune in having him, his talents in every possible way, and more.
It was the most delightful awakening you could ever wish for, a grin permanently etched at the corners of your lips as you left the Dreaming behind.
Freya was in absolute shock. She looked at the freshly tailored red dress laid out for her to see, designed specifically to her tastes and body size. Her eyes had sparkled with excitement when you showed her the initial sketch, but seeing her now, tears of joy streaming down her face, made you feel as though you'd accomplished an extraordinary feat. Unbeknownst to her, you had collaborated with the rest of your team to orchestrate this splendid surprise, with Ella's full backing.
You gently encouraged Freya to try the dress on, assuring her that only by wearing it could she appreciate the full beauty of the sophisticated design and velvety fabric. The moment she emerged from the restroom, you couldn’t believe your eyes. She was even more stunning than you had envisioned, making your own creation appear as if you were beholding it for the first time. The full-length sleeves and high neckline imparted the dress with a modest and elegant appearance, while the front opening tastefully showcased a generous portion of her cleavage. The lengthy gown gracefully traced her curves and swept the floor, and the slit on the right subtly revealed her leg.
She even let her voluminous hair down from the usual high bun she wore and touched up her lipstick, the high heels and earrings she selected that day appeared to be an impeccable match.
It was a day to be remembered, truly. The way she embraced and thanked you, as if you'd bestowed upon her the most anticipated reward. The confidence she exuded by agreeing to be photographed in the studio like a professional model, everyone thoroughly enjoying the occasion, showering praise and throwing a genuine party with drinks and snacks in her honor. All of this warmed your heart, filled you with happiness and fulfillment, and reaffirmed that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
Eventually, Freya mustered the courage to send one of her photos to her bride-to-be friend. She expressed her desire to wear the new dress at the wedding, which understandably caused quite a stir. The woman was adamant that all the bridesmaids should be clad in identical outfits. If she couldn't procure the same dress for the others, then Freya wouldn't be permitted to wear something distinctive. You were afraid that this might dampen her spirits and ruin her good mood, but to your surprise, Freya resolved that if she couldn't wear your dress, she wouldn't attend the wedding at all.
You had crafted it solely for her. She was the only one who had the right to decide when and where to wear it. After the party, she chose to reserve it for the night of the show, using it as publicity for both the Corbyn&Jones brand and you.
"You know, Y/N, I think what you do is quite magical," she told you. "You might not even realize it, but you literally create dreams that have the power to transform others.”
“Really?”
“Of course! I mean, just by trying out this dress today, I feel like a completely different person.”
You found it paradoxical that you, of all people, were being described as someone capable of making dreams a reality.
"Let's just say that I have some good inspiration in my life," you confessed with a smile.
Freya lifted her glass, clinking it against yours in a friendly toast. "Well then. Cheers to your good influence and genius!”
The night of the show was a mere two days away. While everyone was busy preparing and setting things up at the designated location for the event, Ella beckoned you to her side, the printed lineup practically attached to her hand. She looked distinctly terrified, while Oliver was able to maintain a more composed demeanor despite his own nerves.
You'd be lying if you said that the impending occasion wasn't impacting you in a similar way.
"I know this is somewhat last minute, but one of our sponsors would like to meet you in person this afternoon.”
You furrowed your brow. "One of the sponsors? Why?”
"Oh, that might be my doing. I may have boasted about you a tad excessively.”
You shook your head in playful disbelief. "Seriously, Ella.”
"I know! But you are literally our leading figure. It's only a matter of time before more prominent people decide to make their move.”
"I'm just a designer, I'm not the one in charge.”
"Our sales have seen a significant increase these past few months, thanks to you. Come on, let me sing your praises.”
You chuckled. "Fine. When should I expect them?”
"You're scheduled to meet the sponsor in the main hall around 4pm.”
“Noted.”
Ella let out a squeal, which she attempted to suppress due to the many people around, hailing from different brands and sectors.
"I'm genuinely proud of you. You truly deserve all the success that's coming your way.”
“Honestly, Ella, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your call.”
"And I wouldn't have called if it weren't for your email. It's funny how life works, isn't it?”
You found yourself nodding with conviction, reflecting on all the remarkable things, whether challenging or rewarding, that had entered your life since you left the Burgess mansion.
Since you encountered Dream of the Endless. Your beloved Morpheus.
If only you had known that the person you were about to meet wasn't who you expected them to be.
By the time you made your way to the main hall, Ella had returned to the office to finalize the remaining details with Oliver. You had been constantly active all morning, barely managing to squeeze in time for an outdoor lunch, arranging the garments for the presentation, and refining the lineup. You were on the brink of being tardy for the appointment, and you left the backrooms in such a rush that you unintentionally left your phone behind.
Casting a quick glance around the luxurious space, you cleared your throat and adjusted your hair to ensure you looked presentable. You didn't spot anyone who seemed to be waiting, so you opted to sit on one of the vacant couches, taking a moment to observe your surroundings.
You found yourself completely zoned out, watching the staff bustling about and your competitors occasionally strolling past, until a voice jolted you from your trance.
"Why, hello there. You must be Y/N Y/LN.”
You raised your gaze to encounter a distinctive figure standing in front of you. They were attired in a white suit, which exposed a portion of their chest and highlighted an oval pendant suspended from a lengthy silver chain. Their blonde hair was flawlessly slicked back, a pair of round earrings graced their ears, and red lipstick accentuated what seemed to be a sincere, yet cryptic smile.
But what truly captivated you was the color of their eyes, which you couldn't pinpoint due to the lighting making them gleam gold.
"Oh, uh, yes. That's me," you stammered.
Their smile broadened. “It's quite a pleasure to meet you in person.”
Their voice was smooth, calm, and suave.
"Likewise," you responded, sitting up straighter and adopting a more professional tone.
"Do you mind if I join you?" They asked, gesturing towards the empty space on the couch beside you.
"Not at all, please have a seat.”
There was something inexplicably peculiar about this sponsor. They settled themselves next to you, a tad too close for your liking, you might add. Aiming not to appear overly nervous, you swiftly collected yourself and returned their smile.
"I'm surprised that you wanted to meet. Do you have any specific questions you'd like to ask me?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. You could say that I'm interested in your... desires.”
You required a moment to process their words.
"My desires...?”
"Look where you are," they declared, sweeping their impeccably manicured hand to indicate the place. "This must be like a dream come true for you, isn't it?”
You had the distinct feeling that they found this thought amusing, leaving you uncertain about whether they were mocking you or not.
"Well, yes. It certainly is. I've worked really hard to reach this point," you affirmed.
"And yet, I can see that you're still searching for something.”
What were they even hinting at?
"There's always scope for improvement," you elucidated. "I may have come a long way in this industry, but that doesn't mean I can't continue to learn as I progress.”
"Is that what you desire? Greater wealth and recognition?”
You were uncertain whether they were attempting to carry out an unconventional interview, or if their words held some concealed subtext. Was this genuinely the sponsor Ella had spoken to you about?
For a moment, a fear gripped you that you might have encountered the wrong person entirely, perhaps someone dispatched by your competitors to probe and expose your vulnerabilities. But as you threw a cursory look around the hall, you didn't notice anyone else seeking you out.
"I wouldn't say that, no. I engage in what I do because I love creating something that empowers the wearer to feel comfortable in their own skin."
They hummed in ponderation. "Well, I guess that's not too far off from what I do.”
“What is it that you do?”
"My dear, I am in search of individuals who are just like you, drawn to those objects of their desire like a butterfly to a candle's flame.”
That was quite an enigmatic and poetic way to respond. You inferred that as a sponsor, they were particularly discerning about the brand and company they decided to invest in. Possibly, as the one fundamentally in control of the main collections of Corby&Jones, they aimed to painstakingly scrutinize your intentions and authenticity.
It was entirely plausible, all things considered. Yet, there was an odd element that was making you feel uneasy.
“So tell me then, what is it that you want? Don't be shy. Or perhaps I should try to guess?”
Alarm bells started sounding in your mind the moment they edged even closer, their fingers lightly sweeping your hair away from your face.
“You want something sensual, or maybe something precious. Or... maybe someone special. Or maybe you want all three. Yes, I think that might just be the case. ”
The last thing you wanted was for your company to lose one of its most significant sponsors, but your patience was already stretched thin and you could not bear any more of it.
Sporting a nervous chuckle, you cautiously lifted your hand to gently move theirs away as diplomatically as you could, using your left leg to redistribute your weight and subtly distance yourself a bit further from them.
"I’m sorry, but I'm afraid your guess is inaccurate.”
“Is that so?”
"I have a boyfriend. I have no need to seek anything or anyone else, as I've already attained everything I've ever wished for.”
You could almost swear their expression transformed into a blend of disappointment and annoyance, even though they managed to somewhat retain their smile.
"Well, that's unfortunate," they proclaimed. "But you see, all humans are creatures of desire, twisting and bending to their whims.”
You were still unable to understand what all of that was about. Regardless of their motive, you had no interest in discerning it.
"I wouldn't want to come off as rude, but I really need to return to my work. Is there any particular matter you wanted to discuss with me?”
Your attempt to abruptly terminate the conversation and depart clearly took them by surprise, as you noticed them purse their red lips and squint their eyes to scrutinize you. The longer you gazed into those irises, the more the notion strengthened that they were indeed gold. But such an eye color was improbable for a human, wasn't it…?
Eventually, they reverted to their initial politeness. "But of course. I was merely curious to finally meet the famous Y/N Y/LN. Go ahead, continue with your work. I won't hold you here.”
With a simple nod of your head, you excused yourself, standing up from the couch and offering your hand in a professional manner, which they accepted. Their grip was firm, warm, and oddly comforting, yet at the same time, a chill ran through your entire body.
What you experienced in that moment was truly bizarre. A part of you felt as though you knew them, or at least, there was a familiarity in their presence that echoed Morpheus and Teleute. A distant voice in your head reassured you that there was no need for fear, that they could calm your spirit and provide the most exhilarating ride you could ever imagine.
And it terrified you.
The instant they released you, you practically dashed off, fumbling in your pocket for your phone to give Ella a piece of your mind about the situation, only to discover that you didn't have the device with you.
And you were oblivious to the way they continued to gaze at you until you were out of sight, narrowing their eyes and resting their fingers on their chin in profound thought.
"My, what a fascinating mortal being,” they commented with a broad grin, before releasing a prolonged, amused laugh through their perfectly white teeth.
The moment you reentered the backrooms, Freya hailed you and advanced with a brisk stride, extending her hand that was gripping your phone. "I found it on the table next to me. Ella sent you a message, I noticed her name flashing on the screen.”
Speak of the Devil…
"Thanks, Freya. I'll check it right away. I'll be back in a minute.”
She nodded in recognition and gave you a thumbs-up, before resuming her task of arranging the chosen outfits on their corresponding hangers.
You unlocked the screen and navigated straight to your friend's chat, freezing in place as soon as you read her message.
You could feel your blood chilling as you recognized that the person you had just interacted with was, in fact, not the one you were initially supposed to meet. You had found them strange, slightly ethereal even, but overall suitable for that specific setting, notwithstanding their flirtatious conduct.
And now, staring in utter disbelief at your phone screen, you could only conjecture about their real identity, how they knew your name, and most importantly, why they were there for you.
The only logical explanation you could arrive at was your initial assumption about a competitor sending one of their own, but you couldn't dismiss that nagging feeling in your gut that they were someone, or perhaps even something, entirely distinct.
Without a moment's hesitation, you tucked your phone into your pocket and sprinted for the main hall, hoping to still find them there and obtain an explanation. Regrettably, they were nowhere to be seen, as you couldn't spot their elegant attire, blonde hair, or golden eyes.
You came to the realization that they hadn't even introduced themselves to you. You had no name to associate with them, no concrete information about their profession or location whatsoever. You were left without any leads, while they appeared to have a clear understanding of who you were. Could you possibly be dealing with an admirer who had infiltrated the showroom solely to see you?
In the end, all you could do was return to your responsibilities and let the matter slide, even though it certainly nagged at you for the remainder of the day.
With all arrangements for the imminent show complete, Ella and Oliver gave their team a well-deserved day off before the grand event, ensuring that everyone could rejuvenate and approach the coming day with renewed energy. Capitalizing on this chance, you planned another visit to your father, as time with him had been scant since the revelation about your mother. The last time you awoke from the Dreaming, he implied there was something he wished to talk about, but assured you it wasn't pressing and could be postponed.
However, as soon as he opened the door to greet you, it was evident that something about him was off again. He appeared hesitant, leaving you lingering at the entrance without fully inviting you in, his countenance displaying unease.
"Dad? What's wrong? Can I come in or are we planning to have lunch here on your doorstep?”
He exhaled deeply, shifting his gaze towards something in the living room. "No, it's just.... there's someone here.”
"Oh... a guest? Would you prefer if I came back next week?”
"No, no, there's no need for that," he paused. "Actually... they're here for you.”
You attempted to conjure a mental image of who they might be. "Huh...?”
At last, he moved aside to let you in, closing the door behind you and assisting you with your jacket. But before you could proceed further, he gently grasped your arm and placed both his hands on your shoulders.
"Y/N, I didn't plan this. Whatever happens, know that I will understand if you decide to leave.”
“Dad, seriously. What’s going on here?”
Reflecting back, you should have realized that there was only one person who would potentially want to converse with you. You had barely interacted with his friends a few times, and he was the sole family you had left. There was no one else who would wish to see you in his house.
Except for someone you believed would never be allowed to come near the two of you, ever again.
When he remained silent, lowering his gaze, you pivoted and ventured into the living room. There, you noticed a woman stationed by the window, her eyes fixed outside, responding to your entrance with a slight flinch.
You couldn't instantly recognize her, but as she slowly swiveled around to face you, your heart abruptly stopped. You found yourself staring at the woman from your dream, the memory that Morpheus had transferred from your father's mind into yours. She nervously fiddled with her thumbs while clasping her hands over her lap, swallowing hard and blinking rapidly to clear her tear-filled eyes.
You felt a dizzy spell coming on, unable to react, as your father slowly moved to stand beside you, nervously anticipating some sort of response from you.
And then it came, your voice shaky, trembling, emerging as a whisper. "Mum....?"
Upon hearing that, she managed a smile in your direction, summoning the courage to take a step towards you. "Hello, Y/N.”
You began to hyperventilate, your ears filled with a loud ringing noise and a dreadful wave of nausea started to swell within you. She repeated your name, but it became inaudible. Her lips were moving, yet no sound was perceptible, as the unbearable ringing in your ears drowned everything else out.
You had reconciled with that she would only exist as a faint echo in the background of your existence, a distant figure you'd never have a chance to see or converse with. Caught completely off guard, you found yourself in her presence for the first time, a moment you had yearned for since your childhood years.
And you were petrified, completely paralyzed with fear.
Your father gently prodded you, trying to elicit a proper reaction that stubbornly refused to surface. Your breathing grew rapid and strained as you struggled to supply enough oxygen to your brain.
Until everything descended into darkness.
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 16 ->
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meeting the family
echo x reader (gn, first person)
summary: After half a year, Echo's partner finally meets his brothers, but some people just can't mind their own business.
warnings: insults, (maybe alcohol? can be read with and without) halloween & costumes, someone makes a comment about eating habits, kissing (i think that's all, please let me know if i missed something!)
words: ~2500
a/n: this is my first own post on this blog and uhmmm yeah. i'm slowly trying myself on the boys soo uhm. yeah.
here is a little spin-off, about how the boys (especially wrecker) got their costumes!
p.s. english isn't my mother tongue, sorry for misspellings! (commas are a pain in the ass.)
"Are you ready?" Echo asked and smiled at me from the side.
"I... I don't know," I admitted, and started to chew on my lip until I felt a sweet pain and recognized the taste of blood. Disgusted, I crinkled my nose.
We were standing in front of 79s. After about half a year, I finally got to meet Echo's family: his brothers. And which establishment could have been better than the place where we met, with the small extra that it was Halloween and we were wearing costumes.
And that's how we were standing here, fulfilling a cliché with being devil and angel. Echo was wearing a white rope, a self-made Halo and small wings with feathers - and he looked gorgeous!
I was dressed in sweet, red robes, had little devil's horns on my head and leathery wings on my back.
Even though Echo wasn't that confident in his clothes at first, he had to admit that we were looking kriffing good together today.
But still - it changed nothing about the fact that I was nervous. More than nervous. My hands were warm and sweaty. I was almost embarrassed that Echo held one of them in his own hand and had to feel that. My heart was beating unpleasantly fast, and my fingertips and my chest were tingly.
I was afraid they wouldn't like me or judge me at first sight.
Were my robes too short? Would they think I'm cheap? Did I appear respectable and serious, or would they think I'm just for short-term? What if they thought I wasn't good enough for Echo? What if they really wouldn't like me? What if I wouldn't like them? Both options would be absolutely devastating. They were the most important people in Echo's life. Of course I wanted to like them!
My boyfriend seemed to notice my insecurity.
"You will do great. They're excited to finally meet you," he assured me and squeezed my hand a little bit. In contrast to mine, his hand was cool and dry. He was able to ground me a little bit again. As long as I wouldn't come across like a spoiled brat, everything would be fine. They wouldn't have a reason to not like me.
I took a deep breath, nodded and breathed a small "Okay."
With determined steps, we walked through the entrance of the famous clone bar and headed for a booth in the back of the bar.
Even from far away, I recognized the boys Echo already showed me on pictures. Of course they were wearing costumes at the moment, too.
Hunter's shaggy hair was standing out among the other clones. In addition to that, he wore wolf ears with fake fur, a red and blue checked shirt that was ripped on a few spots and a black leather jacket that looked really good on him. His black painted nails looked like claws.
Next to him sat Crosshair. He wore an elegant, black cape with red accents and a high collar. On his chest was a silver brooch that looked perfectly old-fashioned. While he was talking with Hunter, every now and then small, sharp fangs were poking out of his mouth.
I also recognized Tech relatively fast due to his goggles. He was wearing a big, pointed hat that almost swallowed his head and dark robes with silver embellishments. In front of him was a thick book, and while he was talking with Wrecker, he lively gestured with a small magic wand to defend his point: "Wrecker, I am not a witch. I am a wizard!" I vaguely heard him say, and a small smile appeared on my lips when Wrecker started to laugh out loud. "Ahw, that's the same!"
Wrecker himself was wearing a purple and yellow Onesie without a hood. It was purple on the most part of it. His tummy was a light yellow, and I could see a short tail that had some stripes in the same shade of yellow as his tummy. On his head, he was wearing a purple beanie with cute, little tooka ears attached to it that had the same pattern as his tail. It looked handmade and was absolutely adorable. Suddenly, I remembered Echo telling me about Crosshair and Tech staying up all night to craft this thing for Wrecker.
"No, there is a fundamental difference between a witch and a wizard!" Tech kept going. While Echo and I moved closer to the table, his words got clearer for my ears.
"Stop bickering, you two. Wrecker, Tech is a wizard. Tech, stop gesticulating with your stick, I'd rather keep Wrecker's other eye," Hunter intervened. Both were quiet for a few seconds until Tech started talking again.
"Hunter, this isn't just a stick-" he started, but this time, he was interrupted by Echo and me.
By now, we had reached the group, and my boyfriend cleared his throat to get their attention.
Immediately, all of them stopped talking and turned their heads towards us expectantly. I felt four pairs of eyes landing on me, scrutinizing me curiously. This time, I squeezed Echo's hand a bit tighter. He answered me with squeezing back.
"Boys, this is my partner," Echo started and introduced us to each other. I smiled and nodded at them as a greeting.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," I said shyly and was glad that Echo pulled me down with him into the cozy locking booth.
I sat down next to Wrecker and Echo slid in close to me. There were a few moments in which nobody said anything. If it hadn't been for the loud music or the chatter of other clones and their dates, we probably would've been able to hear a pin drop. Luckily, Wrecker broke the silence and saved the whole situation.
"Woah, you're as pretty as the pictures!" he observed, and I felt heat rise in my cheeks.
"You showed them pictures?" I asked Echo, a little bit embarrassed. "Of course, I also showed you pictures of them," he nodded smiling. That made the whole thing a little bit better.
"Yeah, that's right... Thanks, Wrecker. You're much bigger than what you look like in the photos," I answered grinning, and Wrecker proudly puffed out his chest. "All muscles," he told me. Echo and Hunter sighed in a short manner.
"Wrecker, stop flirting with Echo's girlfriend," Hunter ordered and pulled a quiet chuckle out of me with that.
With this small exchange, the ice was broken, and all of us started one interesting and exciting conversation after the next. Crosshair took the part of the observer more often than really talk, but this was okay. Due to Echos stories, I already knew that he wasn't a big talker, especially with new people around.
While the evening went on, we drank some drinks here and there, Echo and I shared a small portion of fritzle fries and after that I still was a bit hungry, so I bought a bowl of snacks for the whole table. Especially Wrecker was happy about that and ate most of it.
To this point, the evening was a whole success. I liked Echo's brothers, and I felt like they at least thought that I was okay. We talked about this and that with so much ease, like we knew each other for many years.
Tech told me about the special wood his magic wand was made of and where to find it, and in addition to that he started to tell me everything he knew about that planet, which I found very interesting.
When a good song came on, Echo and I went to the dance floor to awkwardly shake our bodies and have fun. I was so happy that he didn't mind others looking at us or thinking about what they might think. Since a long time, he was able to let loose again. I was very sure it was his excitement about our small meeting with his brothers going that well.
After some time Wrecker joined us, a little bit shy at first, because he was scared of third wheeling, but found dancing looked too nice to not try it, and like that we enjoyed the music as a group of three.
After a few songs, we went back to the others and picked up our conversations again. Even Crosshair started to talk a little bit more after some time.
Only Hunter was a little bit distant. Although he talked and joked with us, he still was a little bit reluctant and observed me warily.
With the drinking came the urge to visit a bathroom, and I excused myself from the table.
Then it happened.
I was in one of the cubicles and straightened my clothes sluggishly, as I heard the voices of two other people.
"Did you see that table full of Freaks? The goggled one was just a smartass about shit no one wants to know about. What a waste of breath. And what he's talking too much, the other is talking too less. I thought he's mute at first, but I've seen him talking sometimes." - "Don't forget about that giant baby. How can he be so well-built but so stupid? He wouldn't be good for anything if he wasn't a clone." - "And that little, filthy devil. How could someone eat that much in one evening? A little less wouldn't do any bad." - "Yeah. I bet that little devil fucks with all of them. Have you seen that costume? It's literally calling 'take me'." This was accompanied by spiteful laughter.
Confused, I shook my head - they could only be talking about us.
Just as I wanted to step out of the cubicle and ask them what the kriff they were talking about, they started making derisive remarks again.
"Did you see that wannabe angel?" - "You mean the cyborg? Yes. He should've come as a droid." - "Droid? Would that even be a costume, then?" - "Disgusting. I've never seen something that ugly. Just the idea to come here as an angel... I thought clones like that are getting decommissioned." They were laughing again.
This time, it was too much. They went too far. It wasn't okay to talk about anyone like that. None of the boys deserved that, but when it came to Echo, I saw red.
I took an angry breath through my nose and shoved the cubicle's door open. It hit the wall forcefully.
"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked outraged, while the two of them let out a short yelp. They were costumed as nurse and loth-cat. Both of them looked at me confused at first, but then their glance changed to something bitchy.
"Oh, the little devil is here to save the little angel," the nurse giggled, put her finger in her mouth and acted like she would gag on it.
"Oh, and how I am here to protect him. The boys and especially Echo are the most lovable people I've ever met. He's sincere and honest and admirable and so much better than you. What the hell are you thinking to talk about people like that?" I breathed angrily and started to wash my hands aggressively while I stared at them through the mirror.
"What? We just talked about preferences. Droid just isn't on our list. Unlike yours, hm? Does he give you a good time with his scomp?" Again, this annoying, arrogant voice.
"No, this has to do nothing with preferences. Otherwise, you could just say he's unattractive. What you are doing is not okay. You're mean because of what he looks like and you dehumanize him. But Echo feels just as much as every other human. If you ask me, you're the ones who are cold, heartless droids. And if you're complaining so much about Tech's stories, then I'm asking myself how you can listen to each other. All I hear from you is 'mimimi'. I'm interested in what he says. And Wrecker? He would achieve more in his life than you ever will. Maybe you should take advice from Crosshair and just shut up," I scowled and threw my paper towels in the trash bin next to them with the last few words.
While the nurse still had an arrogant expression in her face, the cat looked a bit guilty at least. I wasn’t sure how long he would feel like that before they were harassing others again.
"Oh, and Echo gives me the best times. Better than any of your flings ever could," I growled a last time, shutting the door behind me. Stupid people.
While I stomped back over to the boy's table again, I tried to calm down my breathing, blinking some tears away that started to water my eyes, but it didn't work that well.
Echo immediately noticed and glanced at me, worried. "You okay? What took you so long?" He asked quietly.
Droid. Don't make me laugh - a droid never could be as sensitive and kind as Echo.
"Yes. Sorry, there was a long line," I murmured and sat close to him. Our knees and sides were touching. He put his scomp arm around me carefully, letting me melt in his side comfortably.
"Okay," he breathed, even though he wasn't that convinced. He knew I would talk to him when it was something important or something that was worrying me. But I didn't want his mood to be dampened. So I didn't say anything.
We looked in each other's eyes for some time, and while I was observing him, I noticed how beautiful he was again.
"You're so pretty," I mumbled, and Echo's smile grew a little bit wider while his cheeks turned pink. "Thank you. You're very pretty, too," he returned the compliment. Now, I was the one with the heated face. We captured each other's eyes again. Suddenly, there was a tension between us.
With a small, fast motion, I moved forward and gave him a small peck on the lips. Echo returned the quick kiss, smiling as we departed from each other again.
Shortly after, we took part in the heated conversation of the others again. Echo's arm was still around me, and I enjoyed the comforting warmth that grew between us.
Just before I really could dive into the conversation again, I felt something carefully poking my shin.
Curiously, I looked up and met Hunter's gaze, which held warmth and thankfulness. He nodded at me with acknowledge.
He moved his mouth, and even though I couldn't hear what he was saying, I was able to read his lips: "Thank you."
At first, I was a bit confused, but then I remembered Hunter's advanced senses. He had to have heard us talking in the bathroom.
The corner of my mouth twitched upwards. I nodded back at him.
Even though I met Echo's brothers just now, I already had a soft spot for them - and that was okay.
At that moment, I promised myself to defend them and especially Echo from everything I could.
Always.
#the bad batch#tbb echo#tbb tech#tbb crosshair#tbb hunter#tbb wrecker#echo x reader#first person pov#clone force 99#tbb#echo the bad batch#echo fanfic#bad batch echo#insults#halloween
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Yay! That’ll be a great way to end my day😁 I’m looking forward to reading it and thank you again so so much!
My two free hours became my boss's free hours (first coaching and gossiping and then more gossiping and scolding haha xd)
Anyway, as promised, a fic ready by the end of the day: crack treated seriously I guess. Fig catching MC and Sebastian in her bed.
Eleazar hummed as he made his way into his flat. It was small and cozy, perfect for him and Miriam while she was alive. They’d planned on moving to a bigger apartment or even a house in a magical community once they had children but, alas, between their different researches and experiments, they never got around to it.
At least not while Miriam was alive. Eleazar was one hundred percent sure she would have loved the little rascal he took in right after she passed on.
That, or she would’ve been able to keep the reckless Gryffindor in check.
Emilia Seabaugh, or Em-Sea for short, was as Gryffindor as they come: stubborn, brave, reckless, and a complete troublemaker. Eleazar didn’t know if he had as many white hairs before meeting her or if she was the reason for most of them.
Even tho, he had to admit he was so very proud of her. Refusing to absorb the power of the repository, claiming she’d tell her friends once she felt everyone was ready and they’d look for a way to destroy it. He had feared, at first, that she had been tempted, however, she only used it to heal him of his most serious injuries before sealing it and calling for help. Good thing the rest of the teachers were nearby, he didn’t know if he could’ve lived with himself if he had died in her arms.
He entered the apartment to be greeted by the clear sounds of intimacy coming from her hallway.
“Maybe I should’ve died after all,” he muttered to himself,
He sent a longing look to his own room before marching down the short hallway to her door.
“Not even a muffling charm,” he tsked, then knocked loudly on the door. “Em-Sea! I hope you used an alohomora ward 'cause I’m about to push this door open!”
“Shit,” Em-Sea’s voice echoed from inside. “Wait!”
Eleazar didn’t wait. He pushed the door open and had to close his eyes for a second to gather his wits. He took a deep breath. They were old enough to know what they were doing and old enough to use the necessary precautions that needed to be used.
“Mr. Sallow,” he greeted, opening his eyes, glad that they had the mind to pull the covers to hide themselves. “Nice to see you survived a week after graduation.”
“Professor Fig,” Sebastian stammered with a high-pitched voice. “Hi.”
“Eli!” Em-Sea exclaimed. “Weren’t you coming back next week? How was Godric’s Hollow?”
Eleazar stared her down. The Gryffindor girl stared back, although she did blush a little.
“I’ll wait in the living room, al right? You have one minute to come out,” he stated and walked out, leaving the door open.
“He’s going to kill me,” he heard Sebastian’s voice say. “Oh my god, I’m dead. I can’t believe I only made it one week out of the castle!”
“Shush, Sebastian,” Em-Sea used the tone she usually used when rolling her eyes. “He’s not going to kill you. Not here at least.”
“Forty seconds!” He called and he could hear them fumbling out of the bed and into some clothes. “So, they can follow instructions.”
Both young adults came out looking sheepish and still a little flushed on the face. Eleazar only smirked. His girl might be a grown-up now but he was still his responsibility and the wizarding world would be exposed before he let her (or the boy currently hiding behind her) fool around without making sure they were prepared for consequences.
Like getting caught by a parental figure and then threatened. He couldn’t wait to show Aesop the memory in a pensive.
"Mr. Sallow, do you know how to brew a contraceptive potion?" Eleazar asked as soon as they were in the living area.
"Yes, sir, of course," Sebastian nodded.
"I know how to brew it, too," Em-Sea rolled her eyes.
"I know you know, cupcake," Eleazar offered a shit-eating grin when he saw her face. Oh, how she hated it when he called her pet names. Was she like that when Sallow called her pet names too? "Anyway, could I have a few words with Mr. Sallow? Go get his backpack, I saw it at the feet of your bed."
Sebastian sent her a puppy-eyed look, begging her to stay, asking to stay, who knew? Eleazar was tired and was in no mood for sleepovers.
"Sebastian, Sebastian," Eleazar paced in front of the young man. "You know I love Em-Sea like my own child, right? We have a bond, Sebastian, one that makes me want to protect her from the world itself," Sebastian only nodded. "However, I know I can't protect her from the world, especially seeing how she looks for trouble in every corner," Sebastian wasn't fast enough to hide the smirk that formed on his face. Eleazar stepped closed, voice lower, and magic crackling around them. "What I can do, though, is protect her from boys like you. If she ends up hurt, injured, or even pregnant before she planned it, I will have your head and the Headless Hunt will gain a new member."
Sebastian gulped, wide-eyed and a little pale.
"I understand, sir," he said. "I swear on my magic I won't ever hurt her on purpose and I will be careful- we will be careful."
Eleazar glared into brown eyes for a second, simply enjoying the thrill of shovel-talking someone. Then he nodded and took a step back.
"See that you do," he said. "And I'm sorry but the flat is not big enough to hold sleepovers. I'm sure you'll find somewhere to stay."
"Will you?" Em-Sea asked worriedly, returning with Sebastian's bag.
"Yeah, I'll just crash with Ominis," he smiled. "Talk later?"
"Yeah," Em-Sea promised and she and Eleazar saw him leave through the front door before apparating away. "You suck."
"From what I saw, you suck," Eleazar chuckled, shaking his head.
"Ugh!" Em-Sea turned on her heel and proceeded to her room.
"If you show me a month's worth of the potion and a good wand work of the spell I promise I won't tease you," Eleazar called, "too much," he added.
"I'm moving out!" She replied dramatically. "You'll never see me again!"
"I certainly hope so!" Eleazar laughed, holding back laughing tears. "I already saw too much of you, Em-Sea! Way more than I expected to see. And of Sallow too. I'm so glad you're not my students anymore. Classes would've been so awkward!"
Em-Sea slammed the door shut, but Eleazar could hear her snort before the door closed behind her. She was not really mad. She was probably finishing business in there.
Still laughing, Eleazar turned to his room. He kinda missed being that age.
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discerning
Pairing: Adam Cole/Kyle O’Reilly
MB, this ended up being a lot longer than I expected it to be ha ha. But maybe that's not a bad thing. Thanks for the prompt, I love writing about my favourite evil meow meow Adam Cole. *** “ADAAAAAM!” Roddy wasn’t able to hold in his excitement but Adam couldn’t blame the guy: minutes ago Roderick Strong had just won the Intercontinental Championship. Adam had watched Revolution from home, busted ankle elevated on pillows. Adam had been pleased if not surprised when Roddy won, but it had hurt having to watch it on the screen rather than in person. Just one more thing his broken ankle had denied him. Now instead of celebrating with his friends he had to settle for Roddy’s voice rattling out of his phone. “I did it, Adam! I go the belt!”
“I always knew you would, Roddy. You’re the man,” Adam said, forcing a smile because he knew Roddy would hear it in his voice otherwise.
“Yeah, and that’s not all! KYLE showed up!”
“Who?” Adam said flatly.
Roddy was stunned into silence.
“What do you mean ‘who’? Kyle Kyle,” he said.
Of course Adam knew which Kyle. They’d been practically married at one point, back when they were scrambling their way up in the indies. Kyle O’Reilly. His first real partner, his oldest friend.
When Roddy had offered Kyle a spot in the Undisputed Kingdom, Adam wasn’t surprised when O’Reilly turned it down.
Adam laughed. “Of course I know which Kyle, Roddy. I’m just joking with you.”
Kyle O’Reilly. A return to the ring after nearly two years on the shelf. Adam had been there with him post-surgery, after Kyle had learned that things hadn’t gone as well as expected. The doc had explained that Kyle’s return to the ring was a far point in the distance, perhaps a place that Kyle would never reach.
Once the doctor left Adam turned to Kyle.
“Listen, you got this.”
“I know,” Kyle said, looking at the ceiling.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” Adam said, leaning forward, body all 45 degrees angles, a pose he only took when he felt wound up and intent on something. “And I’ll be there for you every step of the way. I can take time off, drive you to appointments, help with physical therapy, do errands, anything you need—”
“No.”
Adam looked at Kyle, who was still staring at the ceiling.
“No?” Adam echoed. “Kyle, the doctor was right about this injury being serious. This isn’t the time for pride, okay? Let me hel—”
“It’s not about pride,” Kyle said. “It’s about…you. You’re just coming off your own injuries. If you take time away from wrestling for my sake, neither of us will be happy.”
Adam puffed up, indignant. “That’s not fair. If it were anyone else, Sure, maybe, but...not you, Kyle. I could never—”
Kyle snorted. “Never resent me? Never claim that I was holding you back? Use me as an excuse for falling short rather than owning up to your own mistakes?”
His words hit Adam like a superkick to the face.
“I thought we were past all that,” Adam said, a weak defense but the only one he had. Kyle actually turned to look at him, moving only his eyes as his neck was still in a tight brace.
“I guess I’m just the forgive but not forget type,” he said, sounding weary. “Right now you’re all gung-ho about looking after me, about being there for me. But eventually you’ll regret making that choice, and you’ll drop me. And I’ll be worse off because by then I’ll have come to rely on you. Better to just cut that off right now.”
Adam blinked, staring at Kyle. His heart was telling him to beg for another chance, to show Kyle that he did have his back, that he would stick by him. But a crueler part of him whispered no. Why should he debase himself? Why should he get on his hands and knees for Kyle O’Reilly? The man clearly didn’t want his help.
“Fine,” Adam said. “You want to do this on your own, have at it.”
That had been the last time they’d talked.
“Do you ever talk to Kyle O’Reilly?” Max had asked him one night. It was shortly after Adam’s surgery. Max had come to stay as Adam was very much doped up on post-surgery meds and too weak to even leave the bed. Max had asked Adam about Kyle a week in, when Adam was starting to become more lucid. Max had carried him out to the couch so they could cuddle and watch that week’s Dynamite.
“Why do you ask?” Adam said, trying to keep his tone light.
“It’s just...I know this injury has hit you hard up here,” Max lightly brushed his temple, pushing his hair back. “So I thought maybe talking to a friend who’d gone through something similar, that it might help.”
Adam was quiet.
“It was a stupid idea, sorry,” Max muttered.
“No, no,” Adam murmured, burrowing in closer to Max. “It’s just…things are complicated between me and Kyle. I don’t think he’d want to hear from me.”
Max held him closer, kissed the crown of his head. “You never know, brochacho.”
Adam closed his eyes, breathed in Max’s scent. Adam’s apartment was clean thanks to Max. All week Max had been doing the cooking, following the directions from meal boxes that showed up on the doorstep. The guy had even emptied Adam’s bedpans when he couldn’t leave the bed.
But his ankle injury wasn’t that bad. He’d be able to move around in a day or so, even if it was just wheeling around on his knee scooter. What if he needed this level of help for weeks? Would Max still stick by him then?
“Max, would you still love me even if—”
“If you were a worm?” Max jumped in. “Yes. A hundred percent.”
Adam blinked his eyes open. “A worm?”
“Yeah. It’s this meme going around online. ‘Would you still love me even if I was a worm?’ And I’ve thought about it and I totally would. So you don’t have to worry about it, Adam.”
Adam had not been worried about turning into a worm, but he felt reassured nonetheless. That reassurance gave way to a wave of shame. He should have insisted to Kyle that he’d be there for him.
“I wish I was more like you, Max.”
Max was quiet, but a second later he was shaking slightly, laughing.
“What?” Adam tried to turn around but Max just held him tighter, keeping him from seeing Max’s face.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just...no one’s ever said that to me.”
Adam realized that Max wasn’t laughing.
“I guess this is just something I gotta do on my own.”
Adam nearly threw his remote at the screen. Instead he just paused it, taking the time to let his anger simmer. Kyle was there on his TV, his stupid Snoopy hat on backwards, looking haunted and gutted. His big eyes looked so sad. Seeing Kyle like that made Adam feel like his heart was being pierced with broken glass.
But the guy had done this to himself! He’d turned down Adam’s offer of help and friendship all those years ago! If he’d had to struggle alone, that had been his own damn fault!
“I just don’t get it,” Roddy said on the phone with Adam later that night. “Why wouldn’t he want to join us?”
“Kyle’s always had a stubborn streak, you know that,” Adam said easily, not letting his own frustration show.
“Well, I’m still glad he’s back,” Roddy said brightly. “After everything he went through? It’s a real miracle.”
“Yeah, sure,” Adam said. “But miracle boy can’t just do what he wants.”
Roddy paused. “Adam?”
“I want you and the others to make an example of him,” Adam said. “Show him it was a mistake to go it alone.”
Roddy audibly gulped.
“Adam, you sure about this? This isn’t some random guy. This is Kyle. He might still come around—”
“He won’t,” Adam said. He had that pained grimace on his face that he wore when acknowledging a painful truth. “You know that. So I want you to show him that he made a mistake.”
Silence on the line. Adam could picture Roddy licking his lips, a nervous tick of his.
“Adam, please don’t ask me to do this.”
“Ask you to do what, Roddy? Ask you to choose me over Kyle?” Adam pressed. “Because I made my choice already, remember? I choose you over him.” There was just enough inflection on ‘him’ to make it clear that Adam wasn’t talking about Kyle.
Roddy inhaled sharply.
“Right. You got it, Adam.” Now his voice sounded hard, resolute.
And so the Undisputed Kingdom had swarmed Kyle post-match. Roddy went from being buddy-buddy to sarcastic and mean. Adam was actually happy watching the show from home for once, content that even if he wasn’t there, his message was being conveyed through Roddy’s slaps and words:
“You made the wrong decision, Kyle! You made! The wrong! Decision!”
When Dynasty came around Adam was actually there in person this time. Tonight would not be Kyle O’Reilly’s crowning moment: it would be his. He’d show the world that his ankle was more or less healed, and the crowds would cheer as he walked down the ramp. The match went as Adam expected, with Roddy dishing lots of physical punishment to Kyle and eventually emerging the victor.
The Kingdom rolled Adam out onto the ramp as Kyle stumbled his way up it. Adam purposefully kept his eyeline upward, not looking towards his old friend. He stood, raising his arms, drinking in the roar of the crowd. He did not look at Kyle.
Don’t act surprised, he thought as he passed him. This is what you wanted.
#adam cole#aew#adamjf#all elite wrestling#maxwell jacob friedman#roderick strong#kyle o'reilly#my writing#fanfic prompt
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Invisible, tugging strings, Pt. 2
Happy Easter Monday!
When - Right after Invisible, tugging strings Part 1, which you gotta read first
We’ve made it to the Chupacabra episode of Season 2, y’all!
What - our mangy hick does his best to make it home after falling down the ridge twice and hallucinating You and Merle. Back at the farm where you are, you just want him back safe and want to know why. You. Are. So. Worried. About. Daryl?
Who - The Slowpoke Series means a slow cooking, canon-compliant Daryl x Reader. Daryl and Merle’s scenes take place in this one, and I can only hope I was able to do it adequate justice. I admire how the show did that part of the episode. We also have platonic Glenn, Dale, and big bro Shane.
Perspective - 2nd you, 3rd Daryl
Pronouns - neutral again, why not?
TWs - cussing, injury (and pictures from the episode showing Daryl looking nasty as well as some where Rick and T-Dog were sprayed with so much water to show sweat), and Merle’s dialogue is left word for word; he says the n-word. Two asterisks were used instead of spelling it. I ain’t writing that word.
Word count - same as Part 1 (give yourselves 15 minutes, 4,000ish words)
Stuff to read first - gotta read ’em all! It would help contextualize to first read A measure of reverence Parts 1 and 2, but you’ll be okay so long as you’ve read souls stripped bare and Invisible, tugging strings Part 1.
Why are so many of your stories two-parters? - it’s how it be, slowpokes
Are there many lame screenshots this time? - too many
Can I check out the Masterlist? - please do! There’s the official Masterlist here in purposeful nonlinear publishing (which also includes the Reader Requests), and the purely chronological one here. They both have the same Slowpoke stories, just in a somewhat different order :)
This is the third time uploading this one, y’all, and the maturity label (updated July 2023) was cleared about 8 times, but the algorithm keeps insisting it’s mature and reverting it back lol. When I got a human response from the help desk, they mentioned it was a glitch. C’est la vie, it’s kinda a bummer not more people will read this chapter, but it was still fun to write!
Happy Easter Monday!
As always, feedback in some way is very, very welcome.
...............................................
It felt so much better to keep his eyes closed, but someone’s standing over him now. Must be whoever Y/N said would help him get up.
What was that they said about ‘missing’ and ‘bully?’
He strains to get his eyes open so he can see whoever is above him. His eyelids feel so damned heavy, man, he just wants to close them again.
All he can see is the green of the treetops at first. The outline of a person’s head come into view once his vision stops being blurry. Then it clears.
A smile finds its way to the corners of his mouth. He’s missed him. Felt so lost and out of place without him. His own blood.
“Why don’t you pull that arrow out, dummy? You could bind your wound better.”
Yeah, that was him alright. He’s missed him so much.
“Merle.”
...........................................
And Merle’s got that grin that means he’s about to rib him. “What’s going on here? You takin’ a siesta or something?”
“Having a shitty day, bro,” he croaks back. If he was able to, he’d full-on hug his brother right now. Nah, for real, he’d hug him!
Merle smirks and shakes his head slightly. “Like me to get you a pillow? Maybe rub your feet?”
The comfort or whatever it was that Daryl had upon seeing and hearing his brother again starts to twist, only a tiny bit. He’s not super serious when he offers back, “Screw you.”
His big brother ain’t taking no lip, though. “Nuh-uh. You’re the one who’s screwed, from the looks of it.”
Ha, ‘screwed.’ Because the bolt is screwed in his side, funny stuff.
Daryl starts to grin through the pain at the stupid joke when his big brother lets this fly: “All them years trying to make a man out of you, this what I get?”
The tugging in his chest tries to pull him up as Y/N’s words come back and echo in his mind. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”
Merle’s stare works its way up and down. Daryl feels like trash.
Gets called it the next second; “Look at you. Lyin’ in the dirt like a used rubber. You’re gonna die out here, little brother, next to your own puke. And for what?”
“A girl,” is all he can answer at first, it’s all that comes out. Before Merle can tell him he’s a whipped retard being lead by the dick if he was doing all this for some chick, he explains, “They lost a little girl.”
See, Merle? It’s worth it, it’s worth all of this. She’s just a little kid, her mama needs her. Remember her, the little scared girl, with the scared ma with buzzed hair? How much you wanted to shiv the dad’s potbelly?
But all his brother tosses back is “So you got a thing for little girls, now?”
“Shut up.” Joking about stuff like that ain’t funny, it’s messed up.
Then, he remembers it’s all in his head; Merle isn’t really here. Which means he’s the asshole dreaming up his big brother mouthing off like this. But the imaginary knee doesn’t wham his nards about it, because it’s…stuff his brother would say.
Doesn’t mean the guilt doesn’t knee him good regardless when his own blood reminds him, “’Cause I noticed, you ain’t out there looking for old Merle no more.”
That ain’t fair. “Tried like hell to find you, bro,” is all he can manage to voice out loud. But you were gone. Merle, I came back for you—where’d you go? Why’d you split, didn’t you know I’d come?
“Like hell you did,” his brother grates. “You split, man, lit out first chance you got.”
What? “You lit out. All you had to do was wait.” You didn’t trust your own kin. Is it that I’m not good enough or not smart enough? I could have saved you, and your damn hand. “We went back for you. Rick and I.” He finds himself nodding as much as he’s able, because he knows he did right. “We did right by you.” Even T-Dog tried to save your ass, bro. Even him, even Glenn.
“This the same Rick that cuffed me to that rooftop in the first place?” Merle points out. “Forced me to cut off my own hand? This him we’re talkin’ about, now?”
Daryl lowers his gaze as best he can – to see his brother’s hands both still attached. As he stares him down, Merle wiggles his pinkie as if to remind Daryl that he’s just part of his imagination, not real. Then his brother’s glare turns mocking. “You his bitch now?”
“I ain’t nobody’s bitch.” He loves his big brother, but goddamn, there’s no one else that can make him feel so small.
“You’re a joke, is what you are. Playing errand boy to a bunch of pansy-asses, n**gers, and Democrats.”
Another sharp tug in his chest. That word never really bothered him before, but it kinda does now.
And he can’t help but think of how much red Y/N would see at hearing Merle use it. They’d probably huff, start clawing, then after they’d calmed down, start griping about how damn cartoonish Merle sounded spouting that stuff. He can almost hear it now: “That whole sentence sounded like some lazy Hollywood type wrote a script for a ‘stereotype, blue-collar, Dixie racist,’ to make themselves feel good. Nobody talks like that, good Moses.”
Their words from earlier repeat in his mind again. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”
Then, he remembers again that it’s all in his head; he’s the piece of shit cooking this up. All of this weird shit, it’s all from his messed up, trailer trash excuse for an imagination.
“You’re nothing but a freak to them,” his hears his brother tell him.
Maybe Y/N’s words were “cruel don’t mean true,” but that doesn’t mean ‘cruel’ is ‘dishonest.’ At least cold, honest truth is truth.
“Redneck trash. That’s all you are,” Merle goes on.
And Daryl knows it. It ain’t cruelty, it’s honesty. He’s got balls big enough to handle it.
Y/N’s words grow softer, sadder. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”
His brother’s voice is louder, angrier. “They’re laughing at you behind your back. You know that, don’t you?”
Daryl knows that, too. No point in denying it.
…Except maybe a little. ’Cause Y/N wouldn’t, they’re an actual friend. “We make a mighty good team, just sayin’.” “Daryl, may I hug you again?” Nah, two-faced ain’t their style.
Carol wouldn’t neither, the woman’s too gentle for her own good. “Please be safe. I’ll be praying for you.”
Even T-Dog, that dude’s always been decent to him. So has the old man…and the boy…Andrea…Glenn…Lori, Rick, even Shane…
…And it’s as if Merle can hear those doubts. “I got a little news for you, son. One day, they gonna scrape you off their heels like you was dogshit.”
Merle’s right, he knows. He knows that he’s dogshit, he knows…he…he just needs to close his eyes, it all hurts less when his eyes are shut. His body feels so heavy…
The blessed dark takes over, and a voice that makes him feel safe hushes, “Honey, don’t die, don’t get bit.”
“Hey.” Merle jostles him back awake.
Wanting to do nothing less but knowing he’s got to, Daryl strains to open his eyes again. When his vision clears, he sees disapproval warping his brother’s face, just like he’d feared.
“They ain’t your kin. Your blood. Hell, if you had any damn nuts in that sack of yours, you’d go back there and shoot your pal Rick in the face for me.” With a nod, his big brother then bends down and takes Daryl’s chin in his hand. His glare turns worried and his eyes turn sad, even if the words coming from his mouth don’t match it.
“Now you listen to me: ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you except me, little brother. Ain’t nobody ever will.”
He knows. Without Merle, Daryl was always alone…he can’t keep his eyes open, they keep falling shut…
But his brother stops him from falling asleep again by gently tapping his chest.
In his tough-love way that Daryl’s missed, he finally sounds like he cares. “No, come on. Get up on your feet, before I have to kick your teeth in.”
Merle is standing over him now and gives his feet a light kick. “Let’s go.” He crouches back down and pulls at Daryl’s feet. “Let’s go.”
His brother goes too low for Daryl to see him without craning his neck, and something weird begins happening to his big brother’s voice. It’s fading.
Soon, all that Daryl can make out is a rasping sound almost as if there’s a dog by his feet. Maybe there is a dog at his feet, because something keeps pulling at them.
What if it’s a chupacabra?
Mild fear grips him and he manages to swing his head down enough to see what’s going on so he can close his eyes again.
And he’s met with a geek trying to gnaw through his goddamned shoe.
......................................
You
Back inside, you get another dose of dread so strong you feel like you’re hooked up to an IV line like Carl was a half-hour ago.
Daryl needs help.
“Y/N, are you gonna faint again?”
You smile and shake your head as you get a hold of your emotions and send up a prayer. “The caffeine crash after the espresso thing this morning is throwin’ me for a loop.”
“What’s it doing?”
“I just got sucker-punched in the gut with this random sense of dread.”
“Creepy,” he muses.
“Very.”
“And coffee tastes so gross.”
“Bitter, blackish-brown water tastes gross?”
He giggles, and the dread within you eases.
Keep him safe and get him home, please. Get our mangy hick back home.
......................................
Him
He’d fought off the one, then another made its way to him. He ain’t sure how he got the strength to do it, but he’s still breathing. No bites, neither.
He’s back on the ground, laying there and staring at the leaves and branches and clouds as he catches his breath.
Thank you, he offers to whatever might be up there. Thank you.
He doesn’t stay that way too long, the warm trickling from his side urges him to get up. Something in his head had shrieked at him to rip the bolt out. It ended up saving his life.
His fingers are numb and shaking from the adrenaline, but he’s able to sit up and re-tie the his ripped shirt to get the wound bound tight. He remembers how Merle’s (or were they his own?) first words to him were about getting it out.
“Son of a bitch was right,” he grumbles to himself.
Next, he stumbles over the the doll and secures it in his belt, then he stomps over to where he sees the green little walkie chilling on the water, slides it into his pocket after clicking it off and on and getting nothing.
Guess he’s on his own.
He’s so damned woozy, man, and his stomach’s ready to lurch again.
Food. He, um, he just needs food, yeah. He needs to find him a fucking, uh, something—a squirrel or something. Yeah, squirrel’s got blood in them, and he’s lost a lot of blood by the looks of it.
How does he do that again, get one of them teeny guys? Does he make a snare or like, shoot—wait, yeah, he’s gotta shoot one. Gotta shoot one of them slippery ’lil sumbitches.
Oh shit, yeah, first he gotta rinse off the bolts, haha. Hot damn, he feels so weird like he’s on a bad trip or hangover or some shit right now.
As for those two undead, poxy bastards what tried to do him in? Up theirs — he’s gonna slice off their ears like they was bounties and wear them, see if any more wanna mess with him!
......................................
You
“That was risky.”
“We did it for them,” you remind your brother of your middle sister’s family and the way you’d put them down given them their final rest, then buried them.
“They was family, and it was risky.”
“Today was just one last measure of reverence for a family who’d been put through hell at the end.”
“And now you’ve got an arm out of commission,” he states, clearly displeased. “Did you bury the ones who broke in, too?”
“Yes.”
Shane’s reaction to your affirmation isn’t what you are expecting. You were expecting more disapproval.
Instead, his eyes get wet and he pulls you close to kiss your forehead and says nothing else. He just curls his arm around your shoulder and gazes into the fields.
Your brother seems more like himself, now. You can see him again.
In the quiet, you listen to the mooing of cows in the distance, the flies buzzing, the chickens, the faint murmur of voices from the campsite and house.
“Shane? Tomorrow, teach me how to fight back even with my dominant arm out. So long as you button your dang shirt up tomorrow.”
Cracking up, he floofs out his (ugh) unbuttoned shirt to rub it in. “Deal, you got it. First reasonable thing I done heard all afternoon.”
“Now, be on your best behavior when I tell you somethin’, loser.”
Half-worried, half-teasing, he asks, “Well, what’s the somethin’, weirdo?”
You’re almost nervous when you quietly share, “We found something might could’ve been a sign of Sophia.”
He makes a sigh. “What might that could’ve been?”
“The shed had a small, hidden, makeshift sleeping area?”
He shifts. His brows push close. Turns his head to look at you. “You serious?”
“Dead seri—no, no, wrong phrase, wrong phrase!”
He just cracks up and shakes his head.
Then he says what you really wish he wouldn’t. “You sure it wasn’t from the kids who lived there?”
Shane, stop, please stop. You shrug his arm off. “There weren’t spiders in it, spiders would’ve holed up in there right quick, like within three days.”
“It’s something, I’ll give it that.” There’s a ‘but’ coming. “Y/N, even if she was there a day or two ago, it still don’t mean she’s still alive now. It’s been four days.”
“I know.”
Shane does a double-take as if he’s struggling between how to respond. “I mean, I hope she is, you know that, Y/N, I ain’t—” He licks his teeth and rubs his peach-fuzz. “But let’s be clear: riskin’ our necks for this will lead to more of the same. Carl was shot, Y/N, he almost died and you got bullet fragments right along with him, Otis is dead, you’re injured, T-Dog is injured, I’m injured—” He stops himself from whatever else he was going to say.
There’s a flock of birds soaring overhead. You gaze at them, them stare into space as you rub your chest again to dispel the fear that Daryl will be the next statistic.
“Y/N, I’m glad you got home okay.”
“I’m glad you did, too.”
He hums and looks over. “Where’s Daryl at?”
“He dropped me off. I-I wasn’t able to climb up the ridge, not with this.” You nod at your slinged arm and feel a twinge of guilt that you’re hiding your resewn sutures from him.
“Fool idea to go back by himself,” he mutters.
You don’t disgree. “I keep worryin’ about it.”
“Nah, don’t.” Shane wraps his arm back around you. “That sumbitch will outlive us all.”
At that, you can’t help but grin. “Probably.”
......................................
Him
This ridge is about to be his bitch! Just a few more feet, and he’ll make it to the top! (So long as he don’t screw up at the finish line like last time.)
All he needs to do is catch his breath, get some strength back. It’s like he’s floating in air but is made of lead at the same time. Weird shit, right?
Daryl turns to face out. The light kinda hurts right now, but he sees some birds. Almost smiles at them. If it were only that easy to get up and go huh? His body just ain’t doing what he wants it to right now.
“Please. Don’t feed the birds,” sounds from above him, snapping him out of it.
He turns to look at who—shit, Merle’s back. Daryl’s caught between wanting him and wanting gone.
Of course Merle would catch him taking a break and staring at birds like a little sissy instead of powering through, great. Real fucking great, now his brother’s laughing at him.
Go, go, go, get your lazy ass up there and show him — ow, goddamn, it hurts so bad!
“Aw, what’s the matter, Darylina? That all you got in you?
He tries to climb all the faster and harder. Screw you.
His big brother isn’t done. “Throw away that purse and climb.”
As Daryl does his best to get a strong grip on the roots so he can hoist himself up, something within him breaks and reverses. He’s just so tried, so dizzy, so nauseous, in so much pain and so angry. “I liked you better when you was missing,” he rasps.
Merle just snickers. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m on your side.”
Bullshit. “Yeah? Since when?”
“Hell, since the day you were born, baby brother. Somebody had to look after your worthless ass.”
The string in his chest tugs, hard. “As lost as you’ve felt without him—when he bullies you, if-if you can’t stand up for yourself, please try not to believe the lies, okay? Cruel don’t mean true, a lot of the time it’s the opposite.”
If there’s one thing he hates, it’s lies. And he sure as shit knows Merle did not look after him or his worthless ass, he’s got the scars to prove it. “You never took care of me,” he grits out, using a root as a foothold and a thick, woody vine as a grip to climb. “You talk a big game, but you was never there.” Then, he remembers, “Hell, you ain’t here now. Guess some things never change.”
“Well, I tell you what: I’m as real as your chupacabra.”
“I know what I saw!”
“And I’m sure those shrooms you ate had nothin’ to do with it, right?”
“You best shut the hell up!” Daryl shouts back, so angry and he-doesn’t-know-what-else that the searing pain in his side and head meld into a dull thumping.
His brother who isn’t even there starts to mock him harder, laughing at him and mimicking his voice. “Or whaaaat? You’re gonna come up here and shut my mouth for me?”
Damn right, I will. Gonna kick your teeth in.
“Well, come on and do it then, if you think you’re man enough.”
Stop laughing, jackass.
“Hey! Kick off them high heels and climb, son!”
Come on, climb! Get your ass up there, shut him up!
“You know what? If I were you, I’d take a pause for the cause, brother. ’Cause I just don’t think you gonna make it to the top.”
He keeps laughing, make him stop laughing. Daryl lunges upward and reaches for the summit so enraged he can barely think straight.
Or maybe he just can’t think straight right now?
“Come on, come on, little brother,” Merle coos, holding out his hand as his strange, creepy laughter abruptly stops. His expression turns icy. “Grab your friend Rick’s hand.”
For real, maybe Daryl can’t think straight.
Or see straight. Because he finally got his ass over the ridge, but where the hell did his big brother go? Did Merle light out again, run off? Huh?
Fucking typical!
He can’t seem to keep his balance as he screams into the trees, “Yeah, you better run!”
......................................
You
It’s sunset, where the heck is he? All around the treeline and road where he’ll most likely be riding back, you scour through Dale’s binoculars. The walkie has still proven useless, he hasn’t answered.
“Daryl’s spent a night out by himself before.”
Not since the quarry, though, Andrea. “You’re right. He’s prolly fine, I know, I’m-I’m in a weird mood today.”
For some dumb reason, you want the med bag. Cautiously climbing down the RV one-armed, you reason that maybe you’ll feel more in-control of you’re holding it? And you’ll grab Andrea the bottle of sunscreen while you’re in there.
You begin to knock on the door, but the door as well as Glenn bang into you before you’ve knocked twice.
“Ow!”
“Shoot, sorry, Y/N! Did I—did I just make your stitches worse?”
“Shh!” you hiss as quietly as you can. “Shane’s right over there!”
“Kiddo, are you alright?”
Pressing your finger to your lips to tell Dale it’s fine, please stop, you mutter to Glenn, “The door rammed into my bum shoulder, which is directly over them.” And it smarts bad, like, what the hell, man? “You really stormed out of there without noticin’ a body in front of the door?”
Your friend covers his face with his hand and whispers several apologies within the course of a few seconds.
“Glenn, why does Dale look like he’s trying not to look upset?” you challenge. You’re still roiling after he whammed into your bad side, and seeing Dale upset was even worse.
“I was just returning that crappy book and I—” Glenn gets quiet. “—I-I told him about Maggie,” he confesses under his breath.
Great, more drama. “Well, I’m just here for the med bag and to grab some sunscreen for Andy,” you mutter. It doesn’t come out remotely friendly, not when your injuries just got whammed in the exact spot they ache.
He apologizes again, you check yourself and forgive him (and call him a buttface). He calls you a bumpkin, which makes you snort even while you’re feeling huffy, and he walks toward the tents.
Rubbing the tugging part of your chest that hasn’t let up for at least 20 minutes now, you accept the med bag Dale was kind enough to grab for you. “Should you be carrying that, Y/N? It’s on the heavier side.”
“I just feel like I should be holdin’ it, I dunno.”
He raises his brows but doesn’t protest. Then they furrow very low on his face and he asks, “You seem like you’re becoming friends with this Maggie.”
“It’ll be okay, Dale.”
His brows lift again briefly before resting in a normal position. “I’m simply glad that you seem to have a kind of rapport with the family here, a, um, mutual friendliness.” He gestures out the window. “It is a very good thing when our situation, however short-lived it may be, is somewhat delicate.”
“We’ll all turn into friends soon enough. You’d really get on with Mr. Greene.”
“Because we’re both old men?”
“Mhm, antique.” You shoulder the med bag on your good side and catch eyes with your brother. Shane mouths “Why do you got that?” but you’re unable to respond because Andrea suddenly shouts, “Walker. Walker!”
The surge of adrenaline shivers into your body and you peer at the treeline where she’s pointing.
This hasn’t happened here yet.
Then the words Patricia asked a few hours ago come to mind. “Any walkers you find on our property, tell us. Don’t do nothing, just tell us first.”
“Shane, don’t put it down, we need to get Mr. Greene.”
“Huh?” is his only response as he limps toward the pickaxe resting against the tree.
“Just the one?” Rick you hear call to Andrea.
“I bet I can nail it from here.”
“Andrea, don’t! The Greenes have a rule about it,” you shout at the same time Rick is telling her, “No, no, Andrea, put the gun down.”
“You best let us handle this,” Shane calls with too much cockiness confidence as he limps away.
“Shane, wait. Hey—” The kettle starts to simmer inside you.
Rick places his hand by you in support. “Shane, hold up! Hershel wants to deal with walkers.”
“What for, man? We got it covered.”
“Shane!” you shout one final time before saying to Rick, “I’ll run and get Mr. Greene. Go with them.”
“Thank you, Y/N!” he breathes, and takes off like a shot to join your brother, T-Dog, and Glenn as they run toward it.
So much unnecessary drama over one walker, good Moses. The host says let him handle it, why is that so complicated?
You book it to the house, regretting it immediately because pain seethes with every step. But you and Glenn are the fastest, so you’re using what you have in order to help.
“Miss Patricia!” you yell as you sprint closer to the porch. “Mr. Greene? Maggie, Jimmy, Beth, whoever can hear me!”
Lori and Patricia hurry outside, you tell them what’s going on, and immediately point and start racing even faster to catch up to where the others are charging.
As you plow through the pain, med-bag still on your back, you get a horrible flush of terror.
The tugging in your chest wrenches forward.
That’s Daryl.
That’s the way he moves his arms when he walks, there’s the tattoo he has on his inner arm, there’s his crossbow!
He’s, he’s got on just his undershirt, now, but — oh my God — “No, stop! It’s Daryl!”
......................................
Him
Why are those assholes stampeding over? The hell they want? They wanna mess with him? Huh?
But—the fast one who’s taking their sling off, racing up behind the four in front…
Is that the one who just shouted his name?
He knows that voice. He likes it.
Psht, but look at the shirtless chest-shaver over there, limping with a pickaxe. And the big, tall, black dude? Homeboy planning on playing baseball, or what?
And was it the scrawny Asian kid with the wrench thing who just asked “Is that Daryl?” There some other redneck here who looks like me, or what? And why do you care, huh? You gonna laugh at me, Data?
But the one he likes looks into his eyes and says “Honey, what happened to you?” in a way that makes his chest feel all—what the hell is happening with his chest, it’s like it’s being pulled. Makes him lose balance even more than he was, shit. And why is the one he likes all teary eyed, too? Who messed with them? ‘Cause he’ll straight knock down whoever messed with them.
Goddamn, why are these guys here, what the hell is going on—they want a show or something? And what’s the deal with the curly-haired, pale pretty-boy with the extra-long revolver? Three guesses what he’s trying to prove.
Wait—Rick. That’s Rick. The one who chained Merle. He’s reason Merle’s gone.
Daryl notices that fast one, with the voice he knows and likes, who made his chest go funny —oh, that’s Y/N!— has a hand on Rick’s shooting arm, but that’s because fucking Rick is aiming a gun straight at his head again.
Already chased off one Dixon, now going for the set, huh? Do your worst, bitch.
“That’s the third time you’ve pointed that thing at my head,” he barks at him. “You gonna pull the trigger, or what?”
What’s weird is how before he was even done barking at Rick, Y/N exhaled all heavy and started grinning all big and coming toward him.
It’s okay, though, Y/N can come closer. He knows they’re safe. He doesn’t get why they’re teary and smiling at him, but he likes them.
The strong guy with the baseball bat is smiling at him, too. Hold it, why are—why are all these dumbasses smiling or hunched over and catching their breath, what the hell’s the ma—
......................................
You
The bullet went through your chest before it hit his head. The pain was so intense and your horror so deep, that you weren’t able to make a sound.
Or was that your own cry you heard so loudly right before Shane yelped your name, then Andrea’s?
It’s strange how despite being shot, you were still able to crawl to Daryl.
Rick’s screaming “No! No!” blends with your pulse in your ears while you beg and pray and demand that Daryl did not just get shot in the head and killed.
There wasn’t the familiar numbness that took over you this time, it’s-it’s rage.
This morning, you’d seen Daryl’s very soul. All afternoon you’d been filled with a horrible dread for his safety because he wasn’t with you and that felt wrong for some reason.
Then, when he finally came back, you’d all thought he was a walker, and for those gut-wrenching moments as you ran toward him, you settled yourself for the worst.
Was all of that to prepare you for this moment?
To be filled with relief that he was back and alive, only for you to have a hole ripped through your chest as he got shot in the fucking head in front of you?
No. That’s not how this goes, that’s not how this works, no, no, no, he needs to be alive!
......................................
Him
What the…hell…
That was a gunshot he heard before he fell back and felt like the spot above his temple caught fire, right?
What’s weird is Daryl saw the sumbitch stop aiming...
There’s a gentle, warm thing on his chest and on his cheek. He can sense someone bent next to him, someone familiar. They smell good. He feels whatever landed in his mouth being taken out, some kinda string? Now it feels like a hand on his cheek and his arm.
Something then presses against his forehead. He’s pretty sure it’s the safe person again. There’s warm air, too, he can feel their breathing. Feels weird, but an okay weird. Some drops of warm, wet stuff then fall on him, the thing pressing his forehead lifts off, and a soft, squishy thing pushes against it for a second.
The voice he liked that made him feel safe, um, Y/N, that was Y/N’s voice, they’re saying something but he can’t make it out.
Now he’s being—ow, ow, he’s being lifted up, shit, it hurts!
He open his eyes.
Sees an angel his friend. Y/N.
The tugging in his chest stops. He’s home.
The rush from getting shot aside, he can finally let his eyelids droop shut.
There’s a whole bunch of commotion. Footsteps running toward him in the grass. A higher pitched voice shouting “Oh my God!” and another crying, “Rick!”
As the two people who lifted him get their arms under his shoulders and start to support his weight, he hears the voice he feels safe around say “Careful with that side, Shaney, he’s got some kind of bandage there, it’s soaked,” and “Rick, I’m gonna lean his head on you, okay? It’s opposite the graze and the other side feels like he got smacked already, there’s dried blood.”
Well, if Rick is here, Daryl figures he might as well joke, “I was kidding,” to make up for barking at him.
Y/N’s giggle that they make after hearing a dumb jokes is that last thing he hears as h……
......................................
You
“Oh, buddy—guys, he just passed out,” you tell Rick and Shane, the thankfulness and pure relief within you making you feel like you could burst or float away. Between every thought of what care he needs is thank you, thank you, thank you! He’s home.
You press another kiss to his forehead before Shane and Rick start moving too fast.
Andrea’s distraught cries reach your awareness, and she stops repeating “Oh my God!” to ask “Is he dead?”
“Unconscious. You just grazed him,” is what Rick answers, and angrily, too.
“Y/N, did you get grazed, too? I saw you fall!” she panics.
Which is when you realize the pain in your chest has vanished. You forgot all about it, in fact.
You look down.
Dude—okay, you aren’t bleeding? That’s good, but what just—you could’ve sworn you’d been shot when he fell. Seriously, you figured the bullet went through you, too. But, looking down, no. You aren’t shot, aren’t bleeding, you have no more sensation that your chest was cracked.
All you feel now is, well, the burning ache where you’re restitched, and your darn shoulder that you undid the very tricky-to-untie sling that Patricia secured that was specifically to avoid you taking it off (hey, you needed both arms when you reached Daryl).
You have no idea what happened to have made you imagine it, but you don’t care. He’s back and breathing. He’s home.
“But look at him,” Glenn pants. “What the hell happened?”
You wish you knew. “We’ll find out when he wakes.”
“But what about—he’s wearing ears!”
Oh, Moses, those are ears on the string around his neck. Ew! What the fuck?
You catch eyes with Rick and glance at it to relay “get it off!” then look away because your stomach won’t let your eyes linger on it, it is so vile. “I’ll hold his head steady.”
He nods, and once you’ve got Daryl’s head cradled in your hands, he rips it off. “Let’s keep that to ourselves,” Rick stresses to the group.
“I’m gonna run and tell Mr. Greene and Miss Patricia what’s goin’ on,” you say, then hurry toward the family, Lori meeting you halfway and taking the med-bag off your shoulder.
“Guys,” T-Dog speaks up from the back.
Lori makes a small gasp. You turn.
He’s holding up — Eliza’s ragdoll. The one she gave to—
“Isn’t this Sophia’s?”
----------------------------------------------------------
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