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ma1dita · 7 months

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love like a blister

the five stages of loving losing luke

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 4.7k

summary: (post-tlt) set directly after lovers, or partners in crime; The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. this is not the end of the trouble!verse i promise!!

(posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)

—

DENIAL - bursting under pressure

we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?

Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air.

You let him leave.

It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal.

Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.

And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight.

Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.

“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.

“Annie, I…”

Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.

But this can’t be real.

Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.

There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.

“DAD!”

You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.

It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.

The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief. “Did I do that to him?”

Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.

The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.

ANGER - words leaking like an abscess

i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime

There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.

All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities.

This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love.

For once you didn’t have any good answers.

“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.

“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”

“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?”

One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.

“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”

“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.

“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”

You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.

Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up.

Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.

6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this.

Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.

The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.

You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.

BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out

isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?

You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.

“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.

“Didn’t think you’d be up,” Percy mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.

You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.

“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”

Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.

“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”

You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.

“That’s okay. I was too.”

The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way.

“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”

His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.

“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”

“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.

“Wait!”

Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.

“I don’t know what to do with—” “We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to.

“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.

“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.”

The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair.

“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.”

Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.

You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.

“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”

You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.

“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”

Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.

“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.

“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”

If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.

DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin

i knew to love would be to lose my mind

After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet.

The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.

Impenetrable.

He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away.

“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke.

“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.

You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.

“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.”

He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.

“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”

“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”

Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity. I think you and I know it best.”

“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm.

“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.

ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength

in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides

“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”

You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.

“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly.

It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.

I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.

Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.

“What made you drive all the way out here?”

She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.

“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.

You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.

“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.

“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.

Not without him.

There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.

“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”

Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.

“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”

Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.

A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.

“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”

You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”

“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.

“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”

The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.

“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”

Why weren’t we enough?

Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.

“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”

The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.

“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”

You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.

“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.

“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you.

“Me too.”

She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.

The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat.

“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.

You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.

“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.”

Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.

It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.

Because you have to.

—

“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“

- Ari B. Cofer

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan angst #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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hazelfoureyes · 3 months

Text

A Doe in Fall (Part 8)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 📍 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 8 - Trust

Detective Brady is sharper than you initially thought, though Alastor is (seemingly) unfazed by the threat. While you both explore the idea of ‘home’ a familiar face shows up at your apartment.

「Warnings/Tags: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, Detective Brady exists a lot and maybe too much, fingering lol, phone calls, almost our first fight, stress, Disney mom rule, Ruth is pretty alright for now, Brenda」

forgot to tag you in the deleted scene for TRDFAHS

M👻D☠️N👽I😈

Your mother always said ‘Anger is your sword and shield’. So you postured yourself as someone mad. One hip out, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“Sir I don’t appreciate a man in a lady’s space.”

Brady bit his tongue, wanting to say something sharp.

I don’t see any ladies here.

He met the glares of the women behind you. “Ah, well-,”

“Do you really expect her to leave in her robe?”

“Aren’t you the man whose been stalking her?”

“Autumn I’ll go with you.”

“You want her to get into a strange man’s car?”

He felt like a fox about to be pecked to death by the hens.

“Now-! Alright I’m seeing I maybe,” he set your shoes down and slid past you and between the other performers, “got a little eager to speak to you.”

“Does Janet know you like to hang around burlesquers?” Someone said as his back was turned.

Like having ice water poured over his head, his shoulders tensed as did his tone. “I’ll be right out the door.”

You tried to hide the tremble in your hands, but failed. Ruth slid beside you, “What do you need?”

A phone. But the cord wouldn’t reach that far. You wanted to tell Alastor. You needed him to know that detective had you cornered and knew of his existence.

“Could you stay with me? I’m not going anywhere. But I’ll feel safer if I’m not talking to him alone. In case he tries to drag me out. He seems a little off his rocker.” You were genuinely scared he would grab you by the arm and pull you out of the theater if he didn’t think anyone would see.

She patted your back, the others filing in to continue with their work of getting dressed and undressed. You took your time, trying to plan what you would say.

Brady felt an embarrassed blush take hold as the women moved past him with scowls and tsks. He could feel a little bit of his sanity slip back now that you were in front of him.

“I have some questions about Tommy. I’ve been trying to talk to you for weeks. We can head down now.”

Oddly, your mother also taught you, ‘You catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’

She didn’t always make a lot of sense, contradicting herself daily.

Time to use the tried and true tactic, “I am sorry, detective. I had some trouble recently and have been keeping to myself… going home as soon as possible. Just trying to keep my nose clean. So to speak.”

Brady watched you look up at him with a face his daughter often gave him when she was in trouble. But you weren’t a child and you surely weren’t his daughter. “That’s no excuse to dodge me.”

Your turn to bite your tongue, “Of course, sir.”

Ruth was… confused. She’d never seen you so obedient. You had more venom in your voice after taking a hit from Tommy knowing a third could be close behind. Why were you being so small?

“Are you ready to go?” He fished in his pocket for his car door keys.

Ruth felt the need to interject, “She’s not going anywhere.”

Perfect.

You nodded, “I won’t be out at night, sir. You know better than most about the dangers.” Your dangers. Your darling Alastor.

“No, no no,” an unhinged chuckle from the fraying detective, “You’re not slipping away again. I have my car, I’ll take you there and bring you home.”

Ruth looked to you, then back to the detective, “Is she under arrest?”

Brady rolled his eyes, “Of course not.”

“Then? What gives you the right?”

Technically, nothing. He didn’t need to talk to you. His lead still stood. But maybe you’d slip and say something to expedite his search for the radio man. Maybe this would only end with Tommy. But he felt something tickling the back of his skull. An urge to not stop pushing.

“I’ll meet you at the station tomorrow morning. Is it the address on the card you gave me?” Maybe you would, maybe you wouldn’t. You just needed him gone so you could call Alastor.

He was shaking his notebook, key looped onto his finger. A nervous habit. “You still have my card?”

A smile, “Of course. In case any news came up. I’d have called but I didn’t realize you were so worked up.”

He scoffed. He wasn’t worked up. He was just annoyed. Maybe a little rougher in demeanor than usual but whose fault was that?

“If you don’t turn up tomorrow-,”

Ruth, taller than most women and some men and wide at the shoulders, leaned in.

Brady’s eyeline adjusted from yours to Ruth’s. Skye Scraper wasn’t just a pun, it was a cruel nickname she took ownership of. “Finish that sentence.”

The conversation ended there, Brady leaving with a huff.

You’d memorized the number the night Alastor gave it to you, too scared to write it down. He warned you though he wouldn’t be the one to answer.

“Is Alastor still there?” You tried to smile so you sounded less panicked. Ruth mouthed his name and pretended to swoon as you held the phone close to your ear.

“Uhh depends, who is this?” Brenda answered, a voice you’d never heard but a woman Alastor had primed you for.

“….”, but why hadn’t you thought through this part, what name was safe? Which was recognizable? You didn’t like the idea of this woman knowing your name. “Tell him it’s Autumn.”

“….”

You laughed at Ruth, waiting still for a reply from Brenda, “Hello?”

“Is this a crank? Autumn like the season? I-,” a commotion, “Hey there! No. I don’t know. Well it’s past hours anywa-.”

Alastor was lying across Brenda’s desk to reach the phone, having wrestled it from the woman’s grip, “I’m here. What’s wrong? I was about to leave.”

“I’ll walk home tonight.” It hurt, physically hurt, to say it.

Alastor tried to keep his face neutral, “Oh.” Nervous fingers twirling the cord, “One second.”

Harsh whispers, some clicks, and he was back, “I’m in my office. What happened?”

“Yeah Ruth is with me. It’s okay. I’ll call you like normal tomorrow?”

“Should I swing by your apartment?” He considered doing it regardless of your answer.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t recommend it. I’ll be heading to the police station early tomorrow so I’ll be asleep as soon as I’m flat.” Putting your hand over the receiver, you spoke to Ruth, “Thank you, we got it figured out.”

His heart sank to his stomach, “Did he finally manage to catch you?”

“Yeah. Or—-,” your voice cracked a little, the fear rolling in as soon as Ruth walked away, “Yeah.”

“I’m coming over to the theater.”

Cupping the phone you curved your shoulders in and turned away from the staff milling about, “Don’t, that’s worse.” Tears stung your eyes. You felt like you’d failed him. You had somehow, hadn’t you? The loose thread Brady could grab ahold of was you.

“If you can’t come to the alley I’ll leave after a couple minutes. But I’ll be there in twenty, same time as our normal pick up.”

“Alastor, that’s reckless.”

“Please, dear, I don’t want our first fight to be over my work line.” A calming breath, “You don’t have to meet me, but I’ll be there. Just five minutes, then I’ll be off.”

You decided the safest thing to do was to wait in the alley. If you saw any signs of Brady or anyone coming out, you’d go back inside and just miss the meeting. But the idea of Alastor being just beyond the wall, waiting all alone, was too much.

But how much harder would it be if the wall was of the prison? Or worse, dense earth under your feet? That’s what Brady was wanting.

You hadn’t realized you’d been chewing your nails until his car turned down the alley from the back and you tore off much of the length of your thumbnail.

Your arms were thrown around him before he was fully out of the car, “Alastor, he knows I have a guy. He wanted me to go down right now but I managed to push it to tomorrow.” Alastor tried to decipher the words as you spoke them into his vest, “What do I do?”

Normally you’d have your own plans in mind but this was too big, this was capable of hurting him more than anyone else.

He smelled like ink and smoke, a scent you inhaled as you tried to calm your breath.

A large hand patted your head, “Okay. You go tomorrow. It’ll be fine. Don’t stress.” Pulling you off he placed chaste kisses across your face. “Think about what you want to say to him and we can talk it out in the morning. Everything is fine.”

The reality of you standing in a dirty alley crying into the arms of a murderer set in. Then the little detail you were both killers creeped over your chest and took hold of your throat.

He was impressed at the strength of your hands as you gripped at his clothes. Leaning against the car, he offered you his most charming smile.

“Deep breaths, dear. Do I look scared?”

He didn’t. He looked like a magazine ad for French cologne or razor blades that left the softest skin.

“No.” You shook your head.

“No.” He nodded. “It’ll be okay. If you don’t go, he will hound you worse. If you do go, maybe he’ll realize he’s got a handful of nothing.”

His smile blinded you. Bright grin as he rested against his car, arms open.

“Do you really think so? A handful of nothing?”

“Did he say my name?”

“No.”

“Did he–” he elongated the word, lips pursed as he searched the sky for his next words, “have Tommy’s body?”

You laughed, morbid but preposterous, “I didn’t pat him down. Coulda.”

Alastor snapped his fingers, “We’ll have to just assume he didn’t.” A moment of tension. The act of joking barely traversing the space between your bodies let alone reaching the stress under your skin. His hands came to your shoulders; firm, secure. “Did you want to have that fight now? About me coming over here.”

You rolled your eyes, obviously not. “Ala-,” you started and stopped.

“I’ll admit I’m being reckless but I think we can both agree my way is more fun.” Smile sliding into a smirk, he cocked his head and lowered it to get back into your line of sight. When you stuck your tongue out he took a deep breath in, relief. “Are you sure I can’t take you home?”

To which home, you wondered. He used the word so casually and interchangeably…

Face close to yours. Eyes solely on you. Perhaps the stage wasn’t as necessary as you’d once thought. Lips on lips, the feeling of his smile spreading as he returned the kiss. A second of panic as you realized you couldn’t see or hear or sense what else was happening anymore in the alley. Brady could have had you in handcuffs and you wouldn’t be the wiser. Not as long as Alastor’s mouth was moving over yours.

“I’ll call in the morning.” He said into your exhale.

You hadn’t opened your eyes yet. Not ready to return to earth. A pout from you. A chuckle from him. “I’ll be waiting,” You finally said.

While you did your waiting, shuffling around the theater and later tossing around in bed, Alastor fell into a different kind of purgatory.

One he hadn’t realized he’d made for himself until you weren’t there.

The house was quiet, almost eerie. Even with music on he found himself nearly uncomfortable. He shifted several times in his chair while reading, not finding any way to settle in.

His bed was lopsided. Suddenly one side was too light. Multiple times his hand slid under the sheets in search of you out of habit.

What a terrible feeling; to want someone. To know you could have them but they just… weren’t there.

It didn't make any sense. He knew he’d see you soon, in less than a day's time even. He typically enjoyed his home and its silence. Being alone was predictable and therefore comforting. Well, it had been. Before you.

The feeling in his chest, akin to a magnet tugging through his sternum toward a distant partner, didn’t abate.

Only when he heard your voice again over the phone did he find a sliver of peace.

“I’ve decided I’ll deny I have a guy. And, I’ll never tell him about you. It’s safer if he never connects us.”

Alastor was listening, honestly, but he wasn’t really processing. His mind was worried about something else. The detective genuinely didn’t bother him but he had to agree, “I suppose that’s best. As long as we can manage it, to not let him know we’re together.”

Together.

You were together with him. An item. How spectacular you must be to be a part of anything with him.

But for how long? With a certain detective breathing down your neck…, “I’m scared. Actually.”

You could hear the smile in Alastor’s breath, it was odd but eased you.

“He will never have enough to convict us. He’ll drive himself crazy trying. Trust me.” He soothed.

Did you have any choice? “Okay. You’re right. I trust you.” Unequivocally so.

He cleared his throat, “Sorry to change the subject…”

“Please.”

“I want you to come over again tonight. What do you think?”

“Oh, yeah. Of course, don’t even need to ask. I’ll always say yes.” All you needed to do was get through Brady and you’d be home.

But for Alastor, well, he wasn’t done asking the question. A moment of panic from a place unrecognized in his brain, fear of losing himself entirely. But what good was a safe harbor if he never ventured out to sea? That’s just a restraint then, isn’t it?

Maybe you held a place for him even richer in its comforts than his solitude.

So he let himself drift away from familiar shores, no sails and no compass, “I think it’d be smart to bring over a couple sets of clothes. I can keep them washed and always here for you. Would that be alright?” He had wanted to suggest it while together, but Brady was ruining more than his sleep.

Oh.

The same silence from when he first extended the invitation, the deja vu not lost on you. You struggled to decipher the second meaning you were sure was there. Maybe he didn't know what he had asked.

“I know it’s boring out in the boonies but, you’re welcome to just stay over while I go to work. I can come back and get you for rehearsals… I’ll enjoy the clubs or come back and make something for a late dinner for us, and bring you home when you’re done.”

He said it. He hadn’t really meant to, so he felt the need to clarify, but you also needed him to clarify just as quickly, “I -,”

“Did you me-?”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“No I interrupted you-,”

“Not at all pl-,”

“Alastor for the love of God please don’t make me keep talking right now.” You lightly knocked your head with the phone a few times. Your heart was gasping for an ounce of understanding.

He chuckled, glad you were still very much yourself, “I meant, take you home as in, away from work. So, here. Or, there, if you’d prefer.” His face scrunched up, this wasn’t a conversation he had any practice in, “Anywhere really. I’ll drive you anywhere.”

“Alabama?”

He looked at the phone as if you were in it. Alabama?

“Like— the first time you asked me over.” You added quickly. A terrible joke, a bad callback that made it painfully obvious you committed everything he said to memory.

Alastor rested his cheek on the dining table, laughing into the wood before bringing the receiver back. You always offered him an out of uncomfortable situations, “Well the offer still stands. I'd be willing to even venture at least halfway across Texas.”

“The best half of Texas is on our side so that’s a generous offer. But, given our work schedules, I think your house would be much better. Time wise.”

He let his eyes close as he felt the coldness of the wood, “Is that a yes then? To bringing over a couple of items… for ease.” Was it a mistake? Would he regret it?

You were worth regrets. He had decided. He wanted you to say yes.

The weight of what he was asking wasn’t lost on you an ounce. You could see your window from the phone booth. You took great pride in your little apartment. It was your space and no one else’s. As a child you struggled to have your own anything, so you valued your home.

But could you call any place so far from Alastor a home?

It’s just a few items. You weren’t giving up your lease. It’s a baby step. One you could easily walk back if you needed to later. It’s not like you hadn’t spent every night possible already since that first offer.

“Yes.”

It was a plan that took your mind off cops. Have your interrogation, go home, then go home for a relaxing evening of jazz and drink.

The levity ended though the second you hung up the receiver. An obstacle between you and him still stood. You pulled out your bag but couldn’t find the will to pack it. Your hands were too busy as you chewed on your thumbnail again.

Brady noticed the uneven length when you sat down and set your hands on the table.

“Surprised you showed.” He opened his notebook and readied his pencil. “First things first, what is your legal name?”

A chill. You’d gotten your warning the night before to prepare something to say but ignored it. Your mind was flipping through words and images. Piercing all of it were the white reflective eyes of the deer along the road. You decided to lean into what you knew.

“Autumn.”

“Really? Never heard the name Autumn before.”

“Me either. Made for an easy stage name.”

“I’ll need to see your birth records, just to be sure.”

You sucked your teeth. “Ah, unfortunately…all that stuff was left behind with my mom when I moved.”

“And where can I find her?

“Corner of North Villere street and Piety.”

“And your address?”

You paused. His eyes rose and met yours. The radiant aqua from the cafe morning was now an icy color. “I don’t give my address out. You know where I work.”

“But you’re fine giving me your mother’s address? That’s cold.”

“Not as cold as she is, I’m sure of that.”

“Fine, I’ll find it in the census records.” He flipped the page, “Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged.” He tapped his notepad on the table like it was the starting bell of a fight.

You wished Alastor was with you, but also wished he would never enter that station. “Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he,” you remembered the man and his ugly tie, “introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently.”

“And who was that?”

You searched your memory, “S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening.”

Brady nodded, “And then he knocked you around?”

You winced without meaning too, “Yeah. Got me good.”

Brady waited for you to continue talking, but you had learned this game. People know silence is uncomfortable and will use that against you. So you let the silence stay. Let the awkward tension build. You had limited time, he knew that.

He caved first. “And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that.”

Lying was second nature to you. You had killed for Alastor. You could do this. Deep breaths, slink into yourself. You imagined Alastor choked on the park grounds, wet and unmoving. Imagined him cold to the touch.

“Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection.” Tears welled. Bloody hands and a large rock. “But as soon as he got his money he left.”

Brady was writing, “And the man? What was his name.”

“Something foreign. Kerr-something. Or Car?”

He looked up slightly, “You’re pretty terrible at names.”

You wiped away your tears, “I had more pressing concerns at the time than trying to remember that man’s name. I was hoping I’d never need to know it.”

Brady hummed, “Yeah. And what did your beau think of this?”

Did you hide it? The flash of panic that rolled under the flesh of your face, “If I had a beau Tommy wouldn’t have made me do that. He said that himself.”

“Too bad he’s not here to confirm.”

“If he was we wouldn’t be having this conversation, detective.”

“Touché. Clever little lady aren’t you?”

Fuck.

You shifted slightly in your seat, looking downward in an attempt at being bashful. “That’s kind to say.”

“So why did,” he flipped through his book, “Beth say you stopped singin’ on Sundays cuz of your radio boyfriend?”

“Ah,” a weak laugh to hide the way your breath got sucked in with panic. The words ‘radio boyfriend’ punched the air from your lungs. “You must mean the rake. Took me for a ride at a club corner and sent me off in a cab to never see me again. Didn’t know he was in radio though.”

“Well now you’re lying and I don’t appreciate it one ounce ma’am.“

“What?”

“Beth says he’s been coming to your shows for nearly half a year.”

No acting necessary for this part. “What are you talking about? I met him at a club. We arranged a date and he picked me up at—“

“Beth’s dive.”

“…. Yeah. Well.” He’d been there before? So often? And you never noticed…, “That’s news to me, that he had been there for so long, it’s got its regulars though so...” You shifted again, this time with a clear uncomfortable edge.

“He stopped coming when you stopped singing.”

“….guess he got what he wanted then. A fun time in the swing hall bathroom.” Anger. Unreal and unfounded. Trying your best to hide how confused you were.

“Sounds like a stalker, miss. Maybe one who woulda been quite unhappy to hear you were selli-,”

You cut him off, eyes snapping up to meet his, “I really recommend you reconsider your wording.”

Brady laughed with a huff, “A man dizzy with a dame can do some funny stuff. Especially if he hears she’s in a pickle.”

“Well, no knight coming to rescue me. I’ve sworn off men. It’s why I’ve been leaving work early. Getting home, reading, sleeping. He really did a number on my heart and my pride as a woman.”

Brady’s pencil stopped moving.

“And his name?”

You’d never fucking say it. He could walk in on you moaning ‘Alastor’ and you’d still act like you’d never heard that string of syllables in your life.

“John.”

Brady laughed and tossed the pencil to the table, “Let me guess, last name Doe?”

You shrugged, “We weren’t on a full name basis. He was handsome, he took me out, we fucked, I never saw him again” You delighted in the way his face screwed up at your unladylike language.

“So, someone in radio named John. You know I’m going to be at every broadcaster talking to every John, right?” The nervous shaking of his notebook again.

“When you find him let me know.”

“Oh I will.” He said it so quickly, so sharply you could feel it cut at your cheek as the words flew past you.

You pulled your hands into your lap, eyes firmly locked on Brady’s. “You look tired, sir. I hope my answers will help you. So you can rest.”

“I am tired. Of people jerking me around. You won’t give me your address, you don’t remember anyone’s name, not even your own, and you deny having a man I know you have.”

If you screamed would he have you committed? “I’m terribly sorry,” you leaned over the table and pulled a piece of fuzz off his shoulder, “my friend gave you inaccurate and dated information. I am genuinely trying to help as much as I can.”

Upon closer inspection, his eyes were more than just blue. They were dark and light, deep and shallow. Blue so far down it was nearly black. A blue so bright it was a cousin of white. Eyes you were sure would haunt you.

“Help me then, Autumn.” Your brows rose at the request. He leaned back and away from you, “Just tell me what happened to Tommy. What your guy did. If he was trying to protect your name then we could find a sympathetic jury.”

Sympathy? Your smile was too wide, stare gone too soft. What sympathy did he have or would anyone have for you? Did he think you wanted the tender hearts of strangers? “Tommy ran off with a bag of money. He was a good man with a bad habit. That’s all I know. I have no partner, man or otherwise.”

A standstill.

Brady felt a twitch in his hands he wasn’t used to. An itch to move. Unlike him, and a little frightening.

Maybe he had been running himself ragged.

Back sliding down slightly in his chair, he laced his fingers and rested them in his lap, “You know I’m gonna find out what happened, right?” His tone had shifted to something serious and calm. He said it like he was telling you a secret. Low but firm. Steady and sure.

Those eyes. No, worse. What was behind them. You could see it clearly; unflappable determination. He absolutely would.

“I trust you will.” A moment of silence again as you both felt the conversation die. As you stood, Brady did too.

“I wasn’t bluffing about him going to Beth’s for more than half a year now. I don’t know how you think this is gonna end but it won’t end pretty. Whether it was just your boss or all the others on my desk, end it with him and help us bring Tommy home to his mother.”

You adjusted your purse on your shoulder, “I don’t know how many time-,”

“Autumn. I’ve seen enough make up covered bruises to clock em from across the room. That’s the act of a possessive, immature man. Just think about what I said,” You opened the door in an effort to keep your hands from shooting to your neck. “There’s no white picket fence or church bells for you two. He’s a bad man. I think he may even be an evil man. You’re gonna end up hurt, or dead.”

A laugh bubbled up in your chest but you managed to stifle it. With an honest smile you replied, “We’re all gonna end up dead someday, Detective. I’ll call if I have any news. Thanks for your concern and … evident hard work.” You offered a little nod of your head before leaving the room and the station as quickly as you could without running.

When he set down his notebook after returning to his desk, he couldn’t sit. Energy was buzzing in his limbs. He needed to run or swing or pace.

His desk neighbor watched him immediately pick up the notebook again and grab his hat. A few other men shared a glance as Brady rushed out, an unsettling feeling passed among them.

“He’s still on that case?” One asked quietly, going back to his papers.

“Not officially….” Answered Freeman, standing at the window and watching Brady flag down a taxi.

“North Villere street and Piety, please.” He told the driver, not noticing his friend in the window.

It wasn’t near the station, nor the dance scene. He wondered if your mother would be any more amiable. What kind of woman would raise such a creature as you?

When the car slowed, Brady clicked back into his surroundings. He looked through every window hoping to see something different.

After a long pause the cabbie asked, “Ya gonna get out?”

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the seat. “No. Take me back to the station.”

His blood pressure rose so quickly he was sure he would black out as the cab turned around and drove back past the sign; Vincent DePaul cemetery.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Alastor kissed away the worries when he took your bag from you. Every detail of the interview was just hummed away. “Even if he finds me, without a body he has no case.” He reminded you like it was nothing short of fact.

“What if he gets one?”

“Not one of mine, I can assure you. He’d sooner need to kill someone himself and call it my fault.” A pause, was that something the detective would do? He shook off the thought.

He was so confident that even though you knew it was just skin deep it still gave you a sense of calm. The bodies, where they went after he was done with them in the greenhouse, was the last step he hadn’t shared with you.

There was one thing you didn’t mention about the interrogation.

You waited until you were a few drinks in, Alastor’s bowtie off and shirt unbuttoned several buttons before bringing it up. Uncharacteristically nervous about how he’d react when you broached the topic, you needed several deep breaths to get up your courage. Normally the idea of offending a man with an honest question wouldn’t ruffle you a bit, but once again there was nothing normal about you and Alastor. He made you so unlike yourself but not necessarily worse. Perhaps some consideration of other’s reactions wasn’t a bad thing.

“This is awkward to ask.” It was dark already, the sun setting earlier and earlier. The buzz of the kitchen light could be heard through the screen door, the light just enough to let you see each other's features clearly. Leaning back on both hands for support, your legs rested in an unladylike spread down the porch stairs. No shoes. No girdle. No pretense.

Would he be mad? Or maybe offended?

“Brady said you had been going to my Sunday shows for awhile. Months before we actually met. Did you really meet me by coincidence?”

“Or was I stalking you as my next victim?” His head fell to the side, eyes closed and smile wide. “I saw you there, yes. And though you weren’t the best singer, I did enjoy your shows.”

You tried to see him without directly turning your head.

“But yes, it was a coincidence. I had noticed that brute of a man a couple weeks in a row, staring at you so intensely. Word got around he had made a scene some time ago with a dancer.”

You listened like someone was telling you your own story. It was an odd feeling, hearing someone recount your days from a different perspective. An unknown one.

“I was surprised to see you at the theater when I followed him there. Even more so to see you in the alleyway.”

If he had said it wasn’t a coincidence, you genuinely didn’t know what you’d have done. You’d be scared and angry. Another predator lurking just past the tree lines.

Your relief must have been visible. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” Alastor asked, leaning over and letting his shoulder bump into yours. He was still riding the high of putting away your belongings in his closet and drawers.

“Yeah. He gives me a bad feeling. Like…a brick wall barreling toward me.” You kicked a leaf off the steps, “Or like, when you see a big dark cloud on the horizon. Can’t do anything but wait and hunker down.”

How do you wait out a storm so set on burying you?

“Dear,” his hands rose and palms flipped up in a way that said he wasn’t hiding anything, “We get hurricanes annually. We’ve survived every one thus far. He’s just a drip. A sprinkle of a man.”

People have drowned on land before. A sprinkle could lead to pneumonia and that could lead to a wooden box.

He tried to change the topic, laughing about Brenda’s reaction to the call and making plans for an evening out when things settled down again. You listened, but it was your turn to be half there.

You could barely muster concern when you realized you’d forgotten your makeup and hair wrap at home when you were preparing for bed. What you would give for going home barefaced with a ruined hairdo to be the biggest stress of your week.

The distance in your stare was weighing down his joy, how could he relish in the newest addition to his home when you were so burdened? Even in the moonless night he could see the faintest light reflecting off your eyes as you stared at the ceiling. Did you even feel his stare?

He couldn’t let Brady poison his bed, and the man was clearly there now. Chasing you in your mind still.

“Could I offer you a distraction?” Alastor slipped up against you, hand finding your hip. He could see your smile forming.

“I wouldn’t argue against a distraction…,” you’d beg for one if you didn’t want to feel any lower than you already did.

“Perfect. This bed isn’t made for three, so let’s eject that little nag, dear.” His hands slipped down your legs, “I want to replace your thoughts with better ones.” He pulled you to him, your back pressed into his broad chest. The way his soft hands smoothed over your silk slip felt like foreplay, so smooth and slick. Frictionless and gentle. Those same hands ran down and between your legs, following the line of your thighs until they found your center. “It seems you forgot something else.” Two fingers caressed your lower lips, barely parting them, “Not that I’m complaining…,” his lips found the back of your neck as his fingers rubbed gently at your core.

It took so very little to get your body on board, wet and relaxed for his practiced hand. Your own fingers coming down to rub at your clit quickly when you felt your pleasure winding up.

He sighed directly into the shell of your ear, hands working in tandem with yours under the covers. His back pressed against you, hips rolling into your backside in time with his fingers.

“What are you thinking about?” Barely above a whisper as he said it into your heated skin.

“Fingers.”

“Whose?” His voice was deeper than his usual speaking tone. A tenor that made you clench around him.

“Yours.”

You’d never been so satisfied with hands before. With breath. With the sounds of a man. Never saw stars while clothed and not under the lights of the stage. Warm and wet kisses to your neck as you came down from your high, you’d never considered sex could be more than a man fucking someone. Nor that a man could find pleasure so readily with his cock still in his pants. But the way he hummed and growled softly into your skin was proof of his good time.

You’d learned a lot from those progressively chillier nights at Alastor’s over the first week of your constant cohabitation. How much you liked waking up with someone just a reach away. How Alastor woke slowly, incapable of coherent speech for at least the first twenty minutes of his day. He’d stare and smile as his eyes blinked out of sync, rolling back occasionally as he fought the urge to fall back into sleep. Hair disheveled and soft.

When the weekend came, Alastor offered again to take you out. A promise to take you somewhere no detectives would be hiding about. A week without a peep, you were sure he had followed up with your mother and was probably steaming to get at you. But, for some reason or another, he hadn’t appeared again in the crowd of your shows.

A week of going into work unmade and unkempt, you finally gave in and asked to be taken to your apartment early Friday. You’d grab a few items you needed, take them to work, and be back home that night.

Your eyes were on Alastor when his car pulled up to your building. When he kissed you, your hand scratched at the shorter hairs at the nape of his neck. Eyes closed, you could smell him and feel him so much clearer. Perhaps when you were old together you wouldn’t have to worry about your sight giving out, you thought. Because you’d always know it was him by the way his skin on yours lit you up.

“Pack something you’d like to wear out tomorrow night.” He reminded you before you pulled yourself from the car and waved him off. You lingered for a moment as he drove away, wondering if maybe the storm had been pushed off course.

“Oooh, who is he?”

Whipping around, you saw a familiar face sitting on the stoop of your building. An unwelcome one, though.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Mavis?” Your bag fell from your hands as the strength drained from your limbs.

She patted the dust off her dress before bouncing down the steps. “The names Ephi now.” A half sister, though perhaps a quarter sister would be best to describe the often absentminded, when not literally absent, sibling.

“That’s not a name that’s a fucking letter of the alphabet. Mama would smack the color of your cheeks if she heard you.” You were sure you’d not see her ever again, not after she ran off to head north before your mother passed. She scowled, arms crossed as you brushed past her. “I don’t have any money so you wasted a trip. See ya in another decade.”

Ephi grinned up at you as you climbed the stairs, “Looked like he had some money. Mr. Big Shot and his shiny bus.”

“Lotsa people have cars.” Your eyes landed on the suitcase poorly hidden behind the steps. Hand halting its search for the building key as you could feel the stare of your mother looking…down? A weight slipping over your shoulders like a man’s heavy winter coat.

“Well I don’t need money or cars. I need a place to crash.”

Your head fell. You could feel it coming. The gust of wind dragging the clouds slowly towards you. No, the storm wasn’t off course. It was just building momentum.

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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#hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor smut #human Alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel smut

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samandcolbyownme · 9 months

Text

Take a Breather | Solby x Reader

Summary: request by @mintyme101 - “I have been in such a fluffy mood lately and I feel like I’ve read every single fluffy Sam and Colby story there is. So I was just wondering if you could write a Colby x fem reader or Sam and Colby x fem reader who has been working super hard in college and burning herself out. She gets so stressed and upset she starts crying and having a panic attack but they pull her away from here homework, calm her down, make her dinner, and cuddle and watch a movie or something. You can make it your own.“

Warnings: stressed out reader, swearing, nothing else

Word count: 1.3k | not edited

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

You slam your notebook down with a frustrated groan, “Fuck. This.” You push your book away from you, staring at it, mad that it didn’t fall off the table out of sight.

You stand up from your chair, leaning over to shove it to the floor as the door opens, “Whoa. Hey, sweetheart.” Colby sets his backpack down and walks over to you, clearly knowing that you were the happy girl they left the house with, “What’s going on?”

You plop down into your seat, folding your arms on the table, “I can’t do it.” You rest your head down, “I can’t.. fucking do this anymore.”

“Can’t do what anymore?” Colby sit in the chair next to you, hand gently rubbing your back as he glances back at Sam.

You turn your head, slowly opening your eyes, “School.”

“You’ve been pushing yourself extra hard, babe. Why don’t you take a break?” Sam leans on the table, eyes glued to yours, “You can take a break.”

“I can’t.” You argue, “I have to pass this test. I have to pass this class. I have to graduate. I can’t fail.”

“Take a breath.” Sam reaches out to pat your hand with his, “You can’t do any of that if you burn yourself out.”

Colby nods, “He’s right, babe. You can’t push yourself to do more when you’re on the verge of destroying a hundred dollar text book.”

You laugh slightly, “I just-“

“No. You don’t need to do anything right now but go upstairs, get in the bath and relax for a while.” Colby run his hand over your hair, “I’m telling you.. it’ll help.”

You sigh, knowing that they’re both right, “Fine.” You smile at them, “Thank you.”

They both nod and Colby cups your chin, “You’re going to pass. You’re smart as hell.” You smile and nod, “Right.”

You get up, giving them each a kiss on the cheek before making your way upstairs. You run the bath, adding some bubbles, you felt okay.

You felt like their little pep talk helped, until you were in the water. Sitting in the silence with nothing but your thoughts swirling around in your head.

You’re going to fail.

You won’t pass this test.

You’re so fucking stupid.

You sit up, breathing becoming more rapid. You try to fight it, calm down before it escalates, but it doesn’t work.

You bring your knees to your chest, arms wrapping tightly around them as you try to fight off the panic attack that’s setting in, but it’s too much.

You gasp for air as the tears welling in your eyes, fall down your cheeks in a steady stream. You cover your mouth, shaking from holding in your sobs.

You were scared. You wanted nothing more than to pass this class. To graduate, but you also knew you felt exhausted.

You were exhausted.

Burnt out.

You were where you didn’t want to be, yet again.

“B-breathe.” You tell yourself quietly. Your sniffles and gasps fill the silent bathroom, “Bre-athe.”

You shake your head, sobbing into your hands as nothing is working. There’s a knock on the door, “Y/n?” Sam’s voice asks softly on the other side of it, “Are you okay?”

You hated them seeing you like this, but you knew they were the only ones who would pull you from this, “N-no.” You choke out, “I-I’m not.”

The door is open and Sam is on his knees next to the tub, “Hey.” He runs his hand over your wet hair, “Breathe. Try and breathe for me, baby. You’re okay.”

You trying to calm down only seems to make your cry harder.

“Okay.” Sam stands up, getting into the tub behind you. Clothes and all, “Come here.” Sam pulls you against his chest, arms wrapping tightly around you as he tries to calm you with quiet and gentle shushing.

“Y-our clothes.. S-Sam.” You grab his shirt and he shrugs, “Not important right now, baby.” He kisses your head a few times, rocking you side to side, “You’re okay.”

Being in Sam’s arms really helped you calm down.

You knew it would.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whimper out, still worked up from the panic attack you just had. Sam glances down at you, “Why are you sorry?” He asks confused, “You have absolutely no reason to be sorry, y/n.”

You sit there against his chest in silence, knowing he’s also right about that.

“You study hard every day. You deserve a break. You need a break.” He whispers, “You have no idea how in awe of you, Colby and myself are. You will do amazing things, but you, and everyone else needs a break at some point.”

You sniffle, feeling yourself calm down immensely, “You’re right.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him, “You won’t fall behind. You won’t become any less. Taking a break will help you succeed.”

You smile slightly at him, nodding, “You’re right, Sam.”

He gently presses a kiss to your lips, “How does a movie and take out from your favorite place sound?” He smiles, which causes you to smile and you sigh, “Sounds pretty good, actually.”

“Good, because Colby already went to get it.” Sam smirks and hugs you right, “Now.. I’m going to go change, so if you’re done in here, I can bring you some clothes?”

You nod, “Please.” You move to stand up and Sam steps out, dripping half the tub all over the floor. You laugh slightly, “That probably wasn’t a good idea.”

He shrugs, “It was at the time.” He laughs and hands you a towel, “Careful.” He helps you step out and you walk over to his room, sitting down on the bed to wait until he comes over.

He comes over in a towel and you shake your head, “I appreciate you so much. Colby too.”

Sam nods, “What can we say? We love you and only want the best for our girl.” He grabs some clothes and walks over to toss them on the bed, “He would have done the same thing I did.”

You nod, standing up to dry off, “I know he would have.” You smile and get dressed, “Do you want me to clean up the water in the ba-“

“Nope. You just go downstairs. Colby should be back any minute now. You go sit and pick a few movies for us to watch.” Sam kisses your head before walking to the bathroom.

You make your way downstairs, looking around to see that they hid your school stuff.

Out of sight out of mind.

You walk over to the couch and grab a blanket off the back. Colby walks through the door and smiles when he sees you, “Feel better?”

You nod, “I’m getting there.” You smile as he walks over to you, setting down the bags on the tables. He leans down, pecking your lips, “Got you your favorite.”

“Thank you.” You smile and gently pinch his cheek, “i appreciate everything you guys do for me.”

Colby sits down next to you, arm laying over your shoulders, “Just returning the favor. You do so much for us daily without even knowing it.” He brushes your hair back and sighs, “We appreciate you.”

You smile and look over as Sam walks down the steps, “Alright. Who’s ready to get their movie watching on?” He walks over and sits on the other side of you and you smile, “I know I am.”

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

Hope you enjoyed! Thank you for reading! 🖤

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

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boydepartment · 11 months

Text

enhypen texts + scenario - when you ask them to call

a/n: i am procrastinating on eng 102 hw. that’s not due until sunday but STILL. i just don’t wanna do it rn 🫶

warnings: cursing

MASTERLIST

jungwon-

when jungwon finally called and you answered you perked up...

"hey my baby! are you feeling any better? i know this cold has been messing with you..." his voice sounded worried. you sneezed and hummed softly. "i've been trying to get better so i can see you again, i dont wanna get you sick or anything!" you whined, you missed him dearly but you could not get him sick. especially with a comeback around the corner. "do you want to play a game or something? that always cheers you up!" you smiled at jungwon's kindness, "i'd really love that."

heeseung-

when heeseung answered he set his phone up his phone at his desk so you could see him...

"hey my favorite person! i missed you..." heeseung mumbled as he clicked away at the computer. "i thought i asked you to stop playing league!" you teased him, joking of course. he started giggling and pushed up his glasses. "after this game, i'm in the middle and leaving would make me a shitty friend!" he was focused. you really didn't mind when he played games while you called him. you got to see the eye candy in front of you, and you got to listen to him talk to himself, cursing under his breath. so safe to say you were not complaining <3

jay-

when you finally got a call it felt like a breath of fresh air to you...

"i am so stressed right now..." you leaned you head down on you pillow, you resorted to studying in bed. "i know my love, do you want to teach me what youre learning? i heard that can help..." he suggested, jay's voice was soft. you smiled to yourself, "i think that will help, but can you tell me about your day first?" "of course darling..."

jake-

when jake finally answered you, you kicked your feet a little, not that he needed to know that...

"hiiiiii!" jake said, in his usual cheery tone, he was always happy to hear your voice, so you didnt answer, you hummed. "y/nnnnnnn!!!!! i want to hear your voice please!" he started acting overdramatic, whining, being loud, the whole thing. you started to laugh and snort. "that works for me too, your laugh is my second favorite noise!" your brows furrowed, "what the hell is your favorite?" "YOUR VOICE ITSELF?????" jake sounded offended, "I AM NOT SOME PERV? I DONT KNOW WHY PEOPLE THINK THAT!" you started laughing again, jake never failing to making your mood lighter.

sunghoon-

you did not think sunghoon was actually sprinting, so when you answered the face time call and saw the phone looking like it was being thrown, you started laughing.

"AH! I AM FINALLY IN MY HOTEL ROOM!" you heard his door shut and saw him flop on the bed, "hi my love!" you were still giggling, "you didn't have to run!" "i did have to run! i missed you! and you missed me!" sunghoon spoke like it was the most simple thing on earth. "i love you." you spoke softly, sunghoon put his face in the blanket. mumbling out a weak, "i love you too."

sunoo-

"NOW WHY ON EARTH ARE YOU HIDING YOUR EMOTIONS FROM ME?!"

you jumped back from your phone, sunoo was LOUD. "i didnt want you to think i was clingy!" you cringed out. sunoo let out an appalled noise. "y/n l/n i love you more than anything in the world! do not be afraid to say you miss me! in fact i miss you ALL the time!" you heard him huff at the end, solidifying his statement in a very sunoo way. he never failed to make you smile. "okay okay! i miss you everyday too! now talk to me please!" you said in between laughs. "THIS IS NO LAUGHING MATTER I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!"

riki-

you read over his lasts texts trying to comprehend them until he called you

"you okay? you seemed mad." riki spoke, you head him rustle around a bit so you assumed that he was in bed, you were too. "no, i am just really tired of human interaction right now." riki chuckled slightly, "that's ironic." "shut up i thought we already established you are something else." you spoke quickly and defensively, this made him laugh and accidentally drop his phone. "FUCK!" you started laughing, "what the hell just happened!?" you didn't know this, but the fact riki made you laugh by purposely dropping his phone made his heart warm. you also didn't need to know that risking shattering his phone was on purpose either just to hear you laugh again. "I ACCIDENTALLY DROPPED MY PHONE AND I CANT FIND IT BECAUSE IT IS DARK IN MY ROOM!"

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lilacmingi · 23 days

Text

CAPTAIN HOOK (DISNEY VILLAINS AU)

My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works. And please don’t spam-like!

Pairing: Captain Hook!Yunho x fem!reader (ft Oneus + Dongmyeong from Onewe as The Lost Boys hehe)

Word count: 4,600

You huffed, pushing past the thick plants in front of you, large leaves smacking against your arms and face as you trekked ahead.

You just escaped those rambunctious group of guys who call themselves The Lost Boys—they were horrid. No manners, no respect, and certainly no dignity. Their leader was just as awful and drove you mad with all of his whooping and hollering.

You thought maybe they'd help you out, seeing as they were the only people you'd seen on this dreaded island, but all they did was party and play pranks.

Quite frankly, you couldn't stand it. So, you left. You'd rather be alone and lost in this dense forest than be stuck with those hooligans.

Now, here you are, trying to find your way through the thick greenery that overtook the majority of this forest; it seemed never-ending, like you were going around in circles. Everywhere you turned looked exactly the same, until you came to a small clearing.

You let out a huff, taking in your surroundings.

"Now what?" You inquired aloud, exasperated from pushing all the plants away from you.

You stood for a while, wondering where to go next. You turned left, trees and a thick overgrowth of leaves. You turned right, same thing. No matter where you went, each direction was akin to the other. You couldn't tell a difference between left and right, forward and backward. Next thing you knew, you had forgotten which way you came from.

"Seems like you're lost."

The new voice that seemed to come out of nowhere was accompanied by the rustling of leaves.

You spun around to face the man, stopping when you realized it was someone new—a person you hadn't seen before.

So there are other people here. You thought to yourself.

His attire was much different than that of the Lost Boys. Their clothes were messy and unkempt; shirts covered in dirt and tucked haphazardly into their patched trousers.

This man before you was dressed in a copacetic ensemble.

He wore a white dress shirt with ruffles around the collar, a deep maroon colored leather coat that draped behind him, and pants that matched the coat. His boots looked rather shiny despite him obviously traipsing through the dense undergrowth. One peculiar thing you noticed was that he had a hook for a hand. You'd be lying if you said the menacing appendage didn't put you on edge.

"I'm not lost." You lied, keeping your guard up.

"You're lying."

"Listen, I don't know who you are, but I don't need help from you. I don't need help from anyone here." You spoke rather snappily, taking a step back.

Big mistake.

In an instant, a huge net emerged from the ground, yanking you upwards and trapping you inside.

The net swung back and forth due to the momentum of your whole body being snatched up into the air.

"This day can't possibly get any worse." You grumbled to yourself, wiggling around in the trap that was no doubt set up by the group of troublemakers—that's how you ended up with them in the first place, after all.

The man stood below, staring up at you with the most smug expression you had ever seen.

"What was it you said about not needing help from anyone here?" He smirked.

You scowled down at him.

"You know, I could be of service to you." He pulled the left side of his coat back, revealing a sword. "If you'll accept my help."

"I can get myself out, thank you very much."

"Okay, you have fun with that." He crossed his arms, staring up at you with an amused expression.

You wiggled around, hoisting yourself up by grabbing near the top of the net. You attempted to get into a standing position as you balanced on the netting below. This worked for a moment only to fail miserably when you lost your balance and your foot slipped through the netting.

"Need my help, now?" The man asked, quirking a brow.

"Fine." You huffed.

"Alright. I'll get you down... if you tell me your name."

"Why should I tell you that?"

"So you can get out of that awful trap you're in." He answered.

You opened your mouth to say something, but the man spoke again.

"Need I remind you, you just failed to get out on your own."

"Fine, I'll do it."

"Tell me your name first."

"Cut me down first."

The man made a tsk sound and shook his head. "No can do. I'm not cutting you down until you tell me your name."

"That's not happening."

"Alright then. I hope that net is comfortable, because you'll be stuck there all night."

"My name is Y/n." You told him, fed up with his stubbornness.

"What was that?"

"Y/n is my name."

He grinned proudly, pulling his sword from its sheath.

"Wait." You spoke up, clutching the net. "I'll fall if you cut it."

"It's just a five foot fall. It's not that bad."

You shook your head.

"I'll catch you."

Your eyes went to the hook on his left hand, staring warily at the sharp weapon.

"It's fake." He told you.

After you gave him a skeptical look, he pulled the hook off and tossed it aside, showing you his hand—his very pretty hand.

"See? I only wear it to intimidate people."

"Alright. Go ahead and cut me down."

He slung his sword towards the rope that was holding up the snare trap, which was cut in half immediately. He hastily stood underneath you, catching you just in time.

You let out a grunt as you landed roughly in his arms. When you looked up at him, you were breathless, and it wasn't from the fall. Sure, he was good-looking from afar, but even more so up close. His dark hair hung neatly around his features, the deep red highlights in his locks showing in the sunlight.

You quickly cleared your throat. "You can put me down now."

He then placed you on the ground and helped to remove the net.

"Those stupid boys set that up, I have no doubt." You huffed.

"You mean The Lost Boys?" The man asked.

"Yeah. Them." You grimaced.

"Troublemakers, aren't they?"

"Very much so." You sighed. "Anyway, thanks for getting me out of that. I should get going now."

"Wait." The man stopped you. "Where will you go?"

"I don't know. Somewhere."

"Why don't you come with me?" He asked, putting the fake hook back over his hand. "You know, I could use a woman on my crew."

"Your crew?"

"Of course. There's plenty of room on my ship."

"Your ship?"

"Ah. I haven't introduced myself. The name's Yunho. Captain Yunho."

"A pirate?" You questioned, quirking a brow.

"Of course." He grinned proudly. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"I can't say I expected to see pirates here."

"Then you clearly don't know Neverland."

"Neverland? Is that what this place is called?"

"It is. You don't seem to know much about Neverland."

"Of course I don't. I'm not from here."

"That explains why you don't know your way around. Why don't you allow me to assist you? I could even give you a place to stay."

You narrowed your eyes at Yunho, still a bit suspicious of him.

"If you come with me you can stay on my ship with me and my crew."

You mulled the idea over in your head for a moment. This man did seem much more sensible than those scoundrels. Part of you would much rather go with this pirate as opposed to being out in the woods alone, falling into traps and running into animals.

"Alright."

"That's a yes, I presume?"

"It is."

"Very well then." He smiled. "Follow me."

The two of you trudged through the dense overgrowth of foliage and evergreens until the thick vegetation became more sparse. You emerged from the verdure and were met with the stunning view of a beach. The crystal clear turquoise waters beyond the shore were sparkling under the sunlight. Situated out in the water was a magnificent ship sitting proudly in the endless ocean.

"That's your ship?" You asked, your mouth hanging open in awe.

"That it is." He beamed, gazing out at the nautical vessel. "The Jolly Roger."

"Wow."

Yunho proceeded across the beach. You hurriedly followed behind, kicking up sand as you did so. The captain was tall and had long legs that carried him further than yours, so it was difficult to keep up, especially in the sand.

The Jolly Roger was even more impressive up close. The monstrous vessel towered over you and Yunho, bobbing ever so slightly with the waves.

"Come on." Yunho instructed, stepping down the dock.

You followed the pirate up the gangplank and onto the ship where one of his crew mates approached him, looking a bit frazzled.

"Captain, there you are." He seemed relieved.

"I told you I was going for a walk." Yunho told him.

"Yes, but you were gone longer than I expected." The man explained. He then glanced at you with a bewildered expression. "Who is this?"

"This is Y/n."

"A woman?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Smee?" Yunho asked, eyeing the man who you assumed was Smee.

"N-no, sir. Not at all." He shook his head frantically.

"Good." Smiled Yunho. "Let's set sail."

The wind pushed on the large sails, propelling the giant ship forward, away from the dock. You stood with your arms resting on the rustic wooden railing of the ship, watching as it departed. You could feel the crew's eyes on you letting you know that women on the ship was probably very uncommon, perhaps even taboo. You hoped that you made the right decision choosing to come onto this ship.

You heard the soft thumping of boots behind you, turning your attention to the sound. Yunho approached the railing, a soft smile on his face.

"Your crew is staring." You pointed out.

"Well, they're not exactly used to seeing women."

"Ever? At all?"

"There aren't many women here. Except mermaids, of course."

"Mermaids?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your tone.

"Yes." Yunho nodded. "They have their own lagoon where they hang around. I wouldn't get close if I were you, though."

"Why?"

"They'll drown you. They're rather jealous of women."

"Oh." You frowned.

You thought mermaids were supposed to be nice—apparently not.

"Would you like some fresh clothes?" Yunho offered. "Yours are a little dirty."

You glanced down at your current attire, seeing that it was indeed a mess. There were even some tears in your pants.

"Oh." You muttered. "I suppose I do need a fresh change of clothes."

"Follow me." He gestured, leading you across the deck and down into the sleeping quarters.

Yunho pushed open a door revealing what you assume to be his room. He began rummaging through a wardrobe, pulling out a shirt and pair of pants.

"I hope you don't mind wearing men's clothes."

"Not at all."

"I don't have any boots that would fit you, but I'm sure we can sort something out." He mentioned, handing the clothes to you.

"My shoes will be just fine for now." You assured him. "Thank you."

"You can change in here. I'll step outside."

You gave him a small nod as he left the room. As soon as you heard the door close, you began changing, tossing your soiled clothes onto the floor.

The garments Yunho gave to you were a bit big, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. Plus, you were grateful to have to have clean clothes that weren't stained with dirt and grass.

You gathered your old garments from the floor, wadding them up before opening the door.

Yunho pushed himself off the wall he was previously leaned against and turned to you, a soft blush blossoming on his cheeks.

He didn't realize how appealing you would look in his clothes. He was merely trying to assist you.

"Are they comfortable?" He managed to ask.

"They are."

"You might need a belt or something. That shirt is a little baggy. I have just the thing."

Yunho stepped into the room, momentarily removing his fake hook, and retrieved a scarf from his wardrobe. He held it up with a smile.

He approached you, his eyes meeting yours as he held the scarf out, as if you ask permission to proceed. You nodded and lifted your arms, allowing him to tie the thin scarf around your waist. You watched as his delicate and beautiful hands worked to tie the fabric, ensuring that your shirt fit better.

"There." He hummed to himself. "That should be much better now."

He turned around and retrieved his hook, slipping it back over his hand.

"Now, would you like a tour of the ship?"

"I would love that."

It had been four days since Yunho brought you into his ship and you couldn't be happier. You genuinely enjoyed your time with the captain and being at sea was more exciting than you thought it would be. Yunho and his crew often had celebrations on the deck, singing sea shanties and dancing like there was no tomorrow. The partying was often accompanied by some sort of alcohol.

During one of these celebrations, you and Captain Yunho shared a dance, which was so much fun and your favorite moment with him thus far.

"We're docking for a bit tomorrow to restock supplies." Yunho told you as you made your way to bed.

"Where do you get supplies?" You inquired.

"We scavenge the land for anything we can find and trade when we have to."

"Ah. How long will that take?"

"Not long. An hour, maybe two?"

"Okay." You nodded, letting out a yawn.

"You should get some rest." Yunho said.

You gave a sleepy nod.

"Goodnight." He whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

The gesture made your heart jump, but you were too tired to think about it too much.

Once you docked on the beach, you decided to stretch your legs a bit. Yunho's crew got to work quickly, scouring the land for anything they could use. You felt bad just standing and watching, so you asked if you could assist anyone. Yunho politely declined, insisting that you just relax, so you did. Letting out a sigh, you made yourself comfortable on a rock that had been warmed by the sun.

Yunho and his crew went their separate ways, leaving the beach empty and vacant. You stretched your arms and legs, letting out a long sigh as your body relaxed, the heat radiating from the rock soothing your muscles.

Moments later, someone's hand clamp over your mouth, causing your eyes to snap open. Your first instinct was to try and escape, which is exactly what you did. You began to writhe and wiggle, trying to squirm out of your assailant's grip.

You somehow managed to catch a glimpse of the person who currently had their hand over your mouth. It was Hwanwoong, the rowdy leader of The Lost Boys. Seeing him prompted you to try even harder to get away. You even tried to scream, hoping to get someone's attention.

"Shh! Do you want them to hear you?" Hwanwoong hissed.

You struggled in his hold as he dragged you across the beach and through the sand. He was quick to pull you towards a small strip of land away from the main island. He then towed you to a nearby tree line where you saw the dreaded group of six boisterous boys you had escaped from days before.

Once shielded by the trees, Hwanwoong removed his hand from your mouth, but kept a tight hold on you.

"What are you doing?" You whispered harshly.

"What does it look like? We're rescuing you." Hwanwoong stated.

"I don't need to be rescued."

"Oh no. He's already gotten in her head." Keonhee voiced.

"She's been fooled. We need to get her back to the burrow as soon as possible." Seoho stated.

"We'll have to put her in containment for a while until she realizes that she's been brainwashed by pirates." Hwanwoong shook his head, a somber look on his face.

"What? I haven't been brainwashed. I want to stay with the pirates."

"It's worse than I thought." Dongju gasped, dramatically.

"She thinks she belongs with them." Dongmyeong added. "Look. She's even dressing like them."

"That's not—" Before you could finish your sentence, Geonhak came up and tied a piece of cloth around your mouth, the piece of fabric between your teeth, preventing you from speaking.

"Sorry, Y/n." Geonhak apologized quietly. "It's for your own good."

You tried to respond, but it was muffled.

Keonhee approached you with a serious expression as he tied your hands together tightly.

"Alright boys, let's go." Hwanwoong ordered.

You had no choice but to follow them. There were seven guys all around you, there was no way you'd be able to escape.

"Don't worry, Y/n." Dongmyeong spoke up, slinging his arm over your shoulder. "You'll be back to normal soon."The boys took you back to their burrow and put you inside a homemade cell with wooden bars. You wanted to escape, but your hands were tied up and they kept a close eye on you all the way back, so you had no choice but to comply. The only good thing is that Hwanwoong removed the cloth from your mouth, however, your hands were still tied.

"Fellas, this calls for a celebration. We have our dear Y/n back!" Hwanwoong announced.

It didn't take long for the burrow to erupt in chaos. Every single one of them were yelling and throwing stuff across the room. You dropped your head.

This is exactly the behavior that made me want to leave in the first place. You thought to yourself.

"Y/n, aren't you happy to be back?" Dongju asked, approaching your cell, dirt smeared on his face thanks to his twin brother.

"I was happy right where I was." You snapped.

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head in disapproval. Keonhee then showed up, giving Dongju a pat on his back.

"Don't worry. A few days in there and she'll be back to normal." He assured his friend.

"I am normal." You groaned. "What don't you understand?"

"That filthy captain has her mind all mixed up." Dongju grimaced.

"Don't worry yourself. We have her back and that's all that matters. Let's celebrate!" Keonhee dragged Dongju away and back to the "party" leaving you to yourself.

Your finger traced patterns into the dirt floor, a sigh leaving you as you did so. You wondered if Yunho knew you were gone. Would he come looking for you? You would have assumed if he were looking for you, he would be here.

What if he doesn't come back? What if he didn't even notice you were gone?

The two of you had so much fun together over the last few days, you thought maybe you both had a connection.

You shook away the thought, finding it ridiculous that you would even think he'd abandon you, especially after all the fun you had.

Keeping your hopes up was harder than you presumed. The more time passed, the more you thought Yunho may not care about you as much as you thought he did.

He'll never come back and get me. You thought. He was only helping me because I didn't know the area. He'll probably forget about me if he hasn't already.

Meanwhile, Yunho was beginning to worry. Him and his crew were back on the ship, but you had yet to return.

"Captain, what's wrong?" Smee asked.

"Y/n hasn't come back yet. It's time for dinner and she's not here."

"Weren't you keeping an eye on her, sir?"

"I couldn't. Some of the crew needed my help."

Yunho remembered telling you to relax after you offered to help. He saw you lounging on a rock near the water not long after. You looked beautiful with the sun shining down on you, making your skin glow. Next thing he knew, one of his crew mates approached him asking for his assistance. When he came back, you were gone. He assumed you had gone on a walk and decided to wait for you, but you never showed.

"She can't have gone far." Smee assured Yunho.

"I don't think she would have ran off."

"You don't suppose something bad happened to her, do you?"

"I don't know." Yunho murmured, panic slowly rising in him.

He knew you were unfamiliar with the land and worried that you had wandered off to a place you didn't know. He didn't know if the mermaids had gotten you or if a crocodile had eaten you.

"We have to go find her, now." Yunho stated firmly.

"It's too dark. The sun has set, we won't be able to do a proper search, even with lantern light." Smee tells the worried captain.

"Then we'll go first thing tomorrow." He turned towards his crew who seemed to have noticed his uneasy behavior.

"What are you all looking at?" He snapped.

Everyone immediately got back to work, turning their attention away from the stressed Captain.

The next morning, Yunho woke up bright an early, preparing for his search.

Yunho knew that you had previously stayed with The Lost Boys and ran away from them. Having met these boys before, Yunho knew exactly where their hideout was. He's had some disagreements with the boys before, so this wouldn't be his first time in their burrow.

He gathered some of his crew mates to assist him in case things got ugly.

"I know exactly where to search first." He told his crew. "Follow me."

The group trekked through the forest, headed straight towards The Lost Boys' burrow.

Yunho didn't know if you were there or not, but going to the burrow first seemed to be his best bet.

You opened your eyes and sat up, your muscles stiff from sleeping on a thin blanket laid over the dirt floor.

"Morning, sleepyhead." Hwanwoong greeted, floating around the room.

You grimaced at him and turned away.

"Giving me the silent treatment, huh?"

You didn't answer.

"Listen, Y/n, we're only trying to help you."

"You're not helping." You snapped. "I was happy with Yunho."

"Oh, so you're on a first-name basis with that pirate."

"You guys just jumped to conclusions and took me away." You continued, angrily.

"But you were with us first."

The sound of someone coming down the slide to the burrow caught your attention, but only for a moment. You assumed it was one of the boys coming back from setting traps in the woods or whatever it was they do. That's why you were surprised to see who emerged from the slide.

"Yunho?" You gasped.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you.

"Y/n. Thank goodness."

"What's going on?" Seoho asked, hurrying into the room.

"We're under attack." Hwanwoong answered, pulling out a small knife.

"Give Y/n back and no one gets hurt." Yunho spoke.

"She belongs to us."

"No I don't." You spoke up. "Hwanwoong, let me go."

"No. You chose us."

"I didn't choose you. I thought you guys were the only people that lived on this island."

Hwanwoong paused.

"After finding out all you guys wanna do is play pranks and make messes, I decided to leave." You told him. "That's when I found Yunho. He offered me a place to stay and I've quite honestly enjoyed my time with him."

Hwanwoong's brows pulled together as he turned to Yunho.

"You heard the girl. Now let her go." The pirate ordered, his hand hovering over the handle of his sword.

The rest of The Lost Boys were watching cautiously, waiting to see what would happen.

"So you don't like us?" Dongmyeong asked you.

"No, that's not it. You're all just too rowdy for my liking. I wouldn't enjoy my time here."

"And you're not brainwashed?" Hwanwoong asked.

You sighed. "No."

"C'mon boys." Yunho urged. "What do you say? Will you listen to the girl and let her go with who she wants to be with?"

Hwanwoong glanced back at the boys who all gave him small nods.

"Fine." He sighed, walking over to open up the cell door.

He untied your wrists and allowed you to reunite with Yunho. You immediately ran up and enveloped him in a hug, taking in his natural scent that was accompanied by a hint of salt water.

"I'm never leaving you alone. I don't wanna lose you again." Yunho whispered.

"Alright. You have Y/n back." Hwanwoong stated.

"Yes. Thank you. We'll be on our way now."

The boys all gave a small nod as Yunho guided you to a ladder that led above ground.

"Y/n." Seoho called out.

"Yes?"

"Will you come and visit every once in a while?"

You turned to Yunho who gave you a nod.

"Of course."

Yunho hadn't let go of your hand all the way back to the Jolly Roger, even now that you were safe and sound on the ship, he kept his hand clasped with yours. The vessel departed from the dock. You and Yunho stood and watched as you drifter further away from land.

"I'm so glad you're okay." Yunho spoke up, his hand squeezing yours. "I thought something bad happened to you."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you had wandered off and that the mermaids got you, or even a crocodile."

"Nope." You chuckled. "Just kidnapped by heathens."

"I'm relieved. You getting kidnapped made me realize some things and l'd like to tell you them if you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. Go on."

"I've really enjoyed my time with you over the past few days. You've brought immense joy to not only this ship, but me as well. I know we've only known each other for less than a week, but I care deeply for you and, if I'm being honest, I've grown quite fond of you."

Yunho's confession made you feel warm inside. No one had ever said that to you before and it made you happy. The pirate was right, you had only known him for five days now, but you felt exactly the same as him.

He brought so much joy to you as well. You were more than grateful that he offered his assistance and gave you a place to stay. He stayed on top of his duties as captain, but also made time to check on you and show you around the ship

"I've grown fond of you as well." You admitted.

Yunho smiled hearing that as he turned to face you. He seemed to have a natural glow to him as he gazed into your eyes, his heart pounding. Slowly, he inched his face closer, letting you know what he wanted.

You leaned in, closing the space between you and Yunho, your lips colliding. The kiss was short, but lingered on your lips even after Yunho pulled away. You glanced down at your feet, feeling bashful after the brief kiss.

Yunho place his finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

"I have captain duties to tend to, but maybe later tonight you and I can have ourselves a little date." He quirked a brow, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards.

Your lips pulled into a smile. "I'd like that."

Hongjoong ⟡ Seonghwa ⟡ Yeosang: Evil Queen ⟡ San: Cruella de Vil ⟡ Mingi: Dr. Facilier ⟡ Wooyoung ⟡ Jongho

Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!

DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way

🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi @weird-bookworm @poppy2007 @parkjennykim @evidive @mxlly143 @lizzymizzy-blogg @minhanbyeol @dinossaurz @laylasbunbunny @iammeandmeisiam @delulu18

#yunho x reader #jeong yunho x reader #yunho x you #jeong yunho x you #yunho x y/n #jeong yunho x y/n #yunho imagines #jeong yunho imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez oneshot #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop oneshots #ateez disney villains au #ateez fantasy au

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madi-writes-things · 6 months

Text

Nobody Pt. 1

(C.Sturniolo X Reader)

Summary:

Chris and Y/N never seemed to get along, but sometimes help comes from the most unexpected places

Word Count: 1,009

TW: Cursing, SH (not in detail, but it definitely happens and is talked about), Blood, Violence, Hurt Comfort, Not edited, Bad stuff under the cut

A/N: Hey guys, just wanted to pop in t let you know that my DM’s are always open if you need someone to talk to. I use y writing as a safe and healthy outlets for the destructive thoughts, but reading i these sorts of things isn’t healthy for everyone… keep yourself safe.

-Madi <3

Y/N’s POV

“”“”“”“”“”

“What do you want?” I ask when I see Chris walk into my room without knocking. I didn’t mean for it to sound so rude, but it just kind of happens when i talk to him. I don’t even remember why we hate each other, and i bet he doesn’t either… its just always been like this.

“Nick was too lazy to come upstairs…” he stared at me for a second before continuing. “We’re going out to film, do you want us to get You something for dinner?”

“I’ll just text nick what I want” as he leaves i wonder if he even cares. I only live with him because Nick and Matt begged me to come to LA with them after HighSchool. Nick and i have been best friends since eighth grade when I transferred to their district, and Matt has always been nice to me… but Chris never seemed to like me, eventually i stopped going out of my way to be nice to him.

I hear the door closes, quickly followed by the sound of Matt pulling out of the driveway.

“”“”“”“”“”

How did i get here? Nick would be so mad at me… he would never say it, but i know it’s frustrating when people you care about keep making the same mistakes. I look down at my thighs, realizing that I can’t even see the individual cuts through the blood. I should have just woken Nick up, if i had I wouldn’t be in this situation.

The tears have mostly stopped flowing at this point, and the adrenaline is dying down. The weight of what I’ve done starts to set in. I need to clean this up, I need to get help, I need to get Nic-

“What the fuck” as I look up I’m met with the icy blue eyes of Chris. Before I can process what is happening he is yanking the blade out of my hand and flushing it down the toilet. “Y/N, look at me… what happened?” Seeing the panic in his eyes makes me feel bad, he was never supposed to have to deal with this.

“Can you please get the first aid kit from under my bed?” The words roll off my tongue with ease. He just stared at me with fear in his eyes. “I’ll be fine, just go” with that he turned around and went to my room.

Chris returned a few minutes later, with my large first aid kit, and a gas station bag in his hands. I had been desperately trying to clean up some of the mess with toilet paper, but I was mostly failing. “Can you please sit on the side of the bathtub?” I stared up at him in confusion. “Please Y/N… please just let me help you clean up”

“do you even know what you’re doing?” His response consisted of turning his phone to face me, an article on how to clean self harm wounds staring back at me. “Fine…” I did what he asked and positioned myself on the side of the tub.

Chris started by wiping up what I had missed from the floor, quickly moving to sit in between my legs. As he started cleaning me up, I realized how intimate our position was. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes, but I could tell that he was holding back tears. After he stopped all the bleeding, and cleaned off the wounds he just stared for a second… and it broke me.

the tears started streaming down my face again, nothing could’ve stopped them. “Don’t tell Nick… he can’t know I’m doing this again.”

He finally looked up at me, taking a breath to steady himself before speaking. “again?” I just stared. He finished up what he was doing in silence before finally speaking. “Ok… I won’t tell Nick, as long as you let me help you with this”

“I don’t need help Chris.” He didn’t respond, causing me to panic. “Fine, but nobody can know about this.” He held out his pinky, I locked mine into his… an unspoken promise between us.

Chris disposed of any evidence, before carrying me to his room. I was too tired to protest, and it’s not like anyone would be up early enough to notice. He gave me a pair of sweats, and climbed into the bed with me.

“”“”“”“”“”

I woke up to Chris laying practically on top of me, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist. For a moment I didn’t mind… until I saw the time.

“wake up!” I shook him lightly, his eyes flutter open before widening at the position he was currently in. “I need to get up, me and Nick are supposed to go get breakfast for a video… he can’t know that I slept in here.” Chris quickly rolled off of me, and I rushed down the stairs.

As I made my way into the living room I could see Matt and Nick, sitting in silence. They looked at me at the same time, just as Chris came down the stairs to join us.

“Why are you wearing his sweat pants?” Nick stared daggers into my soul. “They must’ve gotten mixed up in the laundry…” I hated lying to my best friend, but he couldn’t know.

“I see… what’s your fake excuse for being in his bed this morning?” I looked at Chris quickly as we walked closer to his brothers. He met my eyes, unsure of what the right decision was.

“please Chris…” I whispered. “You promised me you wouldn’t tell him.” I see Chris make a decision, and before I can stop him he opens his mouth.

“We slept together.” He looked at me, apologizing with his eyes. I look between Nick and Matt, trying to judge their reactions. While this wasn’t ideal, it was better than the truth… until I saw Nick get up.

in a matter of seconds Nick had punched Chris across the face. After flexing his hand, he looked at me with nothing but hatred before walking away.

#madi makes things #madi writes things #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt #nick sturniolo #sh!reader #angst #hurt/comfort

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vrisrezis · 1 year

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Yuta better than me if geto grabbed my hands like that I would fold so quick

Anyways more Yan! Geto x reader I’m very deranged

Normal Yan stuff but there’s a lot of like worship and treating reader like a god ,, slight nsfw geto is very subby in this! this gets into getou cult territory and again treating reader like his god but this is still a weird college au

Yan! Geto who starts becoming more and more obsessive as the years go by

Yan! Geto who gets more and more jealous, don’t be surprised when more people around you end up dying!

And while on the topic, if you manage to piss him off you’ll find their corpses in your house yourself!

Thankfully, he is very forgiving and it’s very hard to make him upset!

Yan! Geto who only truly gets pissed off at you if you are deliberately ignoring him, and no, it’s not in his head. He knows you’re ignoring him. He will make you regret doing that.

Yan! Geto who, despite how jealous he gets, would never kill any of your friends or any family because he understands how important those things are. He will make sure you know how he feels though.

Yan! Geto who would slaughter so many people if it meant you’d no longer suffer or be sad

Yan! Geto who regrets forcing you to see those rotting corpses when he was mad at you, because he’s worked long and hard to keep you away from that side of him, because it made you scared and upset and he doesn’t want to be the cause of your fear.

And so he never does it again, even when he gets angry!

Yan! Geto who does everything for you because he wants to make a good impact on your life, he needs to mean something. Even if it’s nothing much, it’s okay.

Yan! Geto who’s easy to use. He’s very susceptible to being manipulated, just say the word, you don’t even have to be nice about it! He is merely your servant, you are simply his god.

Yan! Geto who tries to make you laugh a lot, typically it works cause he’s funny but it never fails to make him blush.

Yan! Geto who has to stop himself from drooling at you in class.

Yan! Geto who has to stop himself from palming his clothed cock in gym class, watching you play football with satoru, nanami, and a bunch of other kids.

Yan! Geto who cannot play sports with you cause he ends up doing terribly whenever you’re playing, his knees buckle everytime.

Yan! Geto who worships the ground you walk on and worships the very air you breathe

Yan! Geto who is so intensely in love he calls you his god.

And as such he needs to serve his god in anyway he can

Yan! Geto who believes you are god but are far too humble about it, so he constantly does things to make you realize you have all the power in the world at your fingertips, even if you don’t realize it

Yan! Geto who’s heart practically explodes when you tell him to start finding other friends, you don’t want him to be lonely! You must really love him! But don’t fret darling, for you are the only one that cures loneliness and he could never get sick of you!

But once you become set on it, he manages to find a whole group of friends! Friends he’s gained the respect of, friends he has power over. He wouldn’t even say they’re friends, more like family. He of course, wants you a part of that, so he hands the power where it belongs, to you, a god. His god.

Yan! Geto hopes you’re grateful for the new family! He understands none of them are good enough for your graces, but he hopes you’ll give even them a chance. He spent so much time with them after all, and they’re lovely people! He knows that doesn’t mean much, coming from him. He’s far from lovely and so are these people when in comparison to you.

Yan! Geto will never let you go, for as selfish and as undeserving he is, he cannot let you leave his life. He understands it’s not fair to you, but selfishly he doesn’t care enough. He berates himself for it constantly, and doesn’t blame you when you do the same (he in fact gets off to it so please be mean to him)

Yan! Geto who becomes to convinced you’re a deity, he offers anything to you. While these can be things like food, candy, clothes, adorable stuffed animals and fun video games and even expensive pc’s, he eventually no longer feels guilt about mangled corpses showing up at your door, because he is convinced you want some sort of sacrifice, an offering for him not being good enough for you. He hopes this will suffice, please keep him around a little longer!

Yan! Geto will listen if you tell him to stop though, your wish is his command, after all. He exists to merely serve you.

Yan! Geto who worships you because of who you are. You’ve given him everything, you’ve given him life itself. He didn’t know what living felt like before he met you.

Yan! Geto who worships you for everything you’ve done for him. Every small kind gesture, even as simple as giving him a polite smile or holding open the door, sets his heart ablaze and has his body on fire. He yearns for you, and yet, he’s so aware that he’s not enough. No one is, quite frankly. But still… he’s the closest thing to being good enough, right?

Yan! Geto who could actually cum if you compliment him.

Yan! Geto who knows he should ask before being so clingy with you but he simply cannot help himself. You guys are a couple right? Even if you are so much more than him, you wouldn’t mind him suddenly grabbing your hand, would you?

Yan! Geto who thinks of you fucking him in the shower. He hears shower sex isn’t as pleasant as the movies make it seem, but he knows you could make anything pure bliss.

Yan! Geto is nothing but a toy to be used at your disposal, but he understands if you don’t want others to know what you do to him. After all, you must be so embarrassed of him. He’s done so many things considered to be down horrifically bad.

Yan! Geto who sees how much these lowly beings make you miserable. So he ends them. Not just them. He becomes convinced most people in the world only exist as not only a inconvenience but also to make you suffer, so he deals with them accordingly.

Yan! Geto who cannot stand the sight of people thinking they have the right to talk to you. They are nothing but the dirt beneath your shoe.

Yan! Geto who tells you everything he’s ever done has been for you. And he isn’t lying!

Yan! Geto is willing to strip himself of his humanity, his dignity, all for you to love him. But even then, while he hopes for you to, he doesn’t ask for it. He knows it’s wishful thinking. He wants your approval. Your smile, your laugh. He wants you to be pleased with him. He wants your heart, your mind and your body. He wants you to bare your entire soul to him, he wants you to be completely unburdened. He will do anything to achieve that.

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theredofoctober · 1 month

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MANNA- CHAPTER NINETEEN: DUCK

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, murder mentions

Read after the cut

---

“Family,” says Hannibal. “Let’s return to that subject today.”

You occupy the living room, each in a velvet armchair tilted with intent to replicate the layout of his office, the clever dressing of a theatre set. Attempts to put off this particular session had proved inefficacious, the coercion of your attendance rendering you curt and snappish in demeanor.

Truthfully you’ve been so since this morning, having rolled, coughing and vaguely feverish, from dreams of bodies hung rattling like so many clothes hangers in some subterrestrial den.

Hannibal, as expected, had still seen fit to persist with his agenda, weathering your complaints with a brisk good humour.

Will had made himself scarce sometime before you’d awoken, and has left word that you’re not to expect his return for many days. You yearn for him in all his brittle ferocity, a gabion against his friend’s subtle erosion of your mind as you know it. The early hour, the assault of unwanted conversation: such sly methods of torture will damn you to madness as quick as the murkiest secret.

“I’ve told you about my family,” you say to Hannibal, fingering a loose tuft of angora on your sweater. “Besides, you won’t even let me talk to them.”

“I don’t think that it would be to your benefit for me to do so,” he answers, and makes a gracious pretence of examining his pen.

Had you not extended a hand to Amy there would indeed have been a second call, this you’re clearly meant to understand. Hannibal is not above such trivial warfare, as he makes a continuing point to prove; you might be entertained by so comic a flaw were you not in such dire opposition.

“Maybe it’d be good for me to talk to my family,” you say, smartly. “And how can you know that it wouldn’t be when you barely know anything about them?”

Hannibal smirks, pleased to have cast such irresistible bait.

“Enlighten me, then. Begin with your mother, if you like. A predictable start, but in that simplicity rather less challenging than other avenues.”

You glance about the room as though seeking inspiration from it and find it wanting. Only the window at which the dying autumn presses its face wets the brush of conversation again, that symbol of fleeing dark brick to beyond a reminder that you must play on.

“We fight a lot,” you say. “My mom and me. She always has to be right about everything all the time. Never made a mistake in her life. Never apologises for anything. And if you criticise her— well, just don’t. Plus, she used to hit me when I was little. Nothing crazy, but still. She hit me.

“Then one day I slapped her right back and she never did it again.”

Pausing, you tug the hem of your sweater to your knees, an instinct to cover skin that today is not an inch bare.

“It’s funny,” you say. “She acts like she doesn’t remember any of it now.”

“Those in denial of their misdeeds often excise those shameful moments from the past,” says Hannibal. “It may not even be a conscious decision on her part.”

“It’d almost be better if it was. Then maybe she could own up to it, some day.”

Hannibal’s pen mars a fresh page in his notebook; even were it not upside down you suspect you’d fail to untangle his complicated hand.

“Has your mother’s behaviour caused friction surrounding your anorexia?” he asks.

“God, yeah,” you say, half laughing. “She used to yell at me. Tried to bully me into eating. Now she cries a lot and kind of makes it all about her. She loves me, but not in the ways you want in a mother. She pays for stuff. Drives me to places. Ticks all those boxes, you know? But she’s never been kind or comforting, really.

“It’s not all her fault. I guess she just doesn’t know how.”

A leaf falls against a windowpane like the hand of a dead, withered child, and you find yourself drawing back in your seat, wishing you’d the strength to push the chair against the wall.

“Why do you think your mother is unable to fulfil her role as you would like?” asks Hannibal.

“I guess my grandparents treated her the same way she treats me. They were always kind of cold with me when I knew them.”

“Generational cruelty is an infection one must wittingly sterilise. A pity so few are self-aware enough to administer that treatment. Was your father sufficiently conscious?”

Odd, this invocation of the paternal when Hannibal and Will have worked so diligently to embody it in place of your genetic relative.

Now, in a shirt the colour of thatch rolled pristinely back from the jewel of his wristwatch, the doctor could well be the wealthy father of a girl your age, the type to pour upon you his thousands, to walk you down the aisle in a venue of his choosing to marry an approved match of your class.

But you will never wed now that Hannibal has claimed you. He speaks of your family from a wreckage of his making, at ease with his distance from it.

“I love my dad the most,” you say. “But he’s a weird guy. Quiet. Never opens up about his feelings. He’ll talk about movies, or the news, but real stuff? Nope. So I've never felt all that comfortable around him. I mean, with good reason after... after everything.”

“More than good,” says Hannibal, firmly. “That you aren’t angrier with both parents for their abandonment in your time of need surprises me.”

“I don’t really blame them. Uncle Lee has this way about him. He can make people believe pretty much anything he says.”

Inevitable that you should mention Leland, who—though of other blood—is still an incestuous growth on the vine.

“What is this way of his?” asks Hannibal. “You’ve previously spoken of a power to sash the eyes of loved ones against what you perceive to be an obvious darkness. How does that ability present in him?”

You bring your legs up onto the chair, crossing them under you for comfort.

“He moved from Louisiana in his twenties,” you say, “so he still has the accent and everything. He even speaks French sometimes. Then there’s this way of holding himself he has. Kind of cocky, but funny, though. From the second he moved in on our street my parents just loved him, apparently. They never saw what I saw.”

“He’d donned the rubber mask.”

You look up at Hannibal almost shyly.

“Yeah. You remember.”

“Yes. And did you love him, in spite of what seemed to you an obvious guise?”

“I did. In some sick way I still do. So I get why my Mom and Dad believed him over me, but sometimes I think maybe part of them knows the truth, but they just shove it down deep like something dead.”

Scrubbing your face angrily with the sleeve of your sweater you snub, without noticing it, the omnipresent box of tissues on the nearby table top. Hannibal makes no remark on your unclean habit, only pours you a cup of green tea which you accept for the sake of avoiding an argument.

“To truly love someone you mustn’t bury their evils,” says Hannibal. “You must find acceptance of them in whatever form you can. Your parents do not care for this friend so much as fear the upheaval of the known. A suburban life, a sullied idyll— by sending you to me they are attempting to reverse its disunion from their image of it in memory.”

“They’re selfish,” you say. “I know. What’s new there?”

You look at the bottom of your teacup, hunting an impossible pattern in the pale ceramic.

“I don’t want to talk about my family anymore. What about yours? You had a sister, didn’t you?”

Hannibal’s eyes change like the blackening of dusk.

“Will told you this,” he says.

“Does it matter?” you ask, shrilly. “I want to know who you are, Daddy, and this is where I want to start. What happened to Mischa? What did she die of?”

It’s frightening how the man before you alters in only light adjustments: the quiet crossing of a limb, the rhomboid slant of shoulders under his jacket, each a signifier of the restless potentiality for truculence in him.

His face is not so beautiful in moments such as this. The flaws in it stand out to you: flesh racked over halberds of bone, something amphibious in the mouth, of some alien taxon. A killer’s physiognomy, little though you care for such sciences as would define it so.

“My sister was murdered when she was a little girl,” says Hannibal. “I interrupted the culprit in the midst of defiling her body, but it was too late. She was lost to me.”

The moon opal of a tear tips loose of an eyelash, its passage a kinetic artistry. What you’d taken for anger is another emotion: a raw and ancient loss.

“Oh my god,” you say. “That’s awful. Do you know who killed her?”

“A man who remains imprisoned to this day,” says Hannibal. “That is his penance for taking Mischa from me.”

You are in too great a terror and disgust of this man to embrace him, as would feel apt for a moment such as this.

“I’m sorry,” you say, weakly.

Hannibal closes the notebook in his lap and asks, almost blandly, “Are you?”

His bald disbelief flusters you.

“Yes. Of course. She was just a little girl. In fact, I feel like I get it, now. All of this. Me and you. It makes sense why you want me. Why you are what you are. It’s because of her.”

Forcing a smile, you reach over and touch a hand to Hannibal’s cheek.

He turns his face gently away from the caress.

“You’re mistaken, Little One. Whereas you were moulded by your circumstances, I was liberated by mine.”

You stare at him, endeavouring to bone his words for their meaning.

“What are you saying?”

“My philosophies and desires pre-existed Mischa’s death. My love for her restrained me, for while she lived I was never free to act as I yearned to in fear that she would be harmed. In some ways I resented that restraint, but in passing Mischa offered me the opportunity to forgive her.”

A cloud snuffs out the sun, and you sit in the dark of it, aghast.

“Forgive her for what?” you ask, in a near whisper. “Helping you? Hannibal, I—”

“We are still at an impasse, I see,” he says, coolly. “We must rectify this. Would you like to know how she received her absolution?”

You shake your head.

“But you must,” says Hannibal. “You’re a curious girl. Mischa’s remains now lie in a grave in my home country. Before I buried them there, I ate part of her. That is how I reconciled my feelings for my sister with what I am.”

Shock throttles your body in its tremor, and the empty teacup drops from your hand, prevented from breaking only by the carpet underfoot. You had, with all the delicate senses of a medium, deciphered the presage of his appetite, and still you feel the plates of the earth shudder with the magnitude of his confession.

Hannibal gets up from his seat, places the cup back into its saucer, and takes your hand in his.

“Let’s end the session there,” he says. “I’d like to involve you in preparing today’s meal, since that’s a new interest of yours.”

With a fear-stricken servility you walk with him to the kitchen, expecting him to have something—someone—preserved in the glossy coffin of the refrigerator.

Instead Hannibal kneels to unlatch an ingenious door in the floorboards, revealing a neat little staircase which runs down into a basement room. From it emanates a rolling field of cold, biting at you through your clothes.

You take a step back, near tumbling in your eagerness to escape it.

“What is that?”

“It’s an expansion of the freezer,” says Hannibal. “With all the dinner parties I host it’s natural that I found myself in need of more storage space. This is my answer to that problem. I’d like you to go down and choose a cut of meat for dinner.”

There’s no threat in the statement; he speaks, in fact, quite casually, meaning to impress upon you the mundanity of his diet in his eyes. To make supper of his sister, to dine upon lamb: there is no separation for him, being that all of it is meat.

You squeeze your eyes shut, cannot face the oblong of shadow beyond the steps which you’ve dreamt of, unknowing,

“Please don’t make me go down there, Daddy.”

“There’s nothing to be frightened of. Open your eyes, Little One.”

“No. No. I don’t want to.”

You try to turn away, but Hannibal arrests you by the arms, holding you as a farmer would a wriggling hare.

“I’m not going to eat you,” he says. “If that’s what you think.”

“I know!” you wail. “But it doesn’t matter. If I go down there and... see, everything’ll change forever. Because I’ll know for sure, and I’ll be part of it. And I can’t be part of it. I’ll go crazy.”

You jerk passionately in Hannibal’s grip, but his greater strength prevails.

“Wait,” you say. “When you talked about Leland—bringing him to me—you meant that I should kill him to eat.”

“Yes,” says Hannibal, simply. “I did.”

There is a softness in his eyes you recognise as hope. He is a man desperate to create others like him, for all that he believes that they are born.

“But you said with Mischa that eating her was forgiveness,” you say. “But you don’t want me to forgive Uncle Lee. So what would it mean to eat him?”

“Look to why trophy hunters keep mementos of their sport. Some as markers of achievement and dominance over the animal, and others in a subconscious humiliation of the predator they’ve slain. Man gloats to bring a tiger to kneel; a girl, having conquered man, might do the same.”

Thinking of Hannibal’s recorded killings, some of them young women, you say, “Most animals don’t deserve humiliation.”

“That’s all a matter of perspective, my dear. A seasoned hunter develops rather a discerning eye for flaws in his quarry.”

Hannibal smooths a lock of hair behind your ear, his rancid touch queerly soothing.

“What did Savannah Belmont do to deserve humiliation?” you ask, sulkily. “She wasn’t a bad person. She was just a girl, like me.”

“A cursory reading of obituaries and odes to Miss Belmont’s life denote her brief career at a rare bookshop,” says Hannibal, “for which position her personal tastes suggest she was underqualified to take. It wouldn’t be so unrealistic to assume that she left customers unhappy with her inadequate ability to serve them.”

Horror breaks over you like the falling of a chandelier. This, too, you had foreseen: no serious cause to kill was ever required for Hannibal, and that you are fucked rather than murdered by him is but a flourish of fate.

Peering into your eyes, Hannibal comes to a rapid decision and bends to close the trapdoor again.

“Duck, tonight, then,” he says. “That will suffice.”

Through terror you cling to Hannibal long into the afternoon, lurking at his elbow, a thumb in your mouth, as he prepares for the day’s appointments.

If he is he here, with you, he cannot kill, you reason, not while he thinks only of the invitation of tear-salt on your lips, the liquor of your nether mouth around him. Again and again you’ll die upon his cock as tribute, for though cold in your disorder you are not so callous as to allow others to, if you can help it.

“I’ll be gone for just a few hours, sweet girl,” he says, pausing to rock you in his lap. “No more of this. I’ve left a new book for you in your room. Please begin reading it for me. And there is the recording of an opera I’d like you to watch. That should keep you occupied until I’m home to you.”

It’s only after he’s driven away in the hearse of his car that you succumb to the awfulness of all you've heard. As in those primordial days of captivity you grasp the bars of your window and scream into the burnished day, beating your fists upon the iron until they burst across the bone.

Only a volley of coughing halts you in this fit, sending you to your bed alarmed by the weakness come over you. You lie shivering for hours, wondering if this is the nervous exhaustion you’ve read about in novels that ends in heroines consigned to the madhouse, sunny climes, or else the grave, none of which you might expect to be released to.

When Hannibal returns he feels your forehead and listens to your coughs with a mildly furrowed brow.

“Hospital,” you croak, but he only laughs and strokes your head.

“There’s no need for that. You have a chest infection. Your immune system is very poor. Nevertheless, you’ll be well again soon.”

He perfumes your damp neck with a kiss and sits down in a chair beside you.

“Perhaps it’s for the best that Will is occupied with work,” he comments, at length. “I wouldn’t like his condition to worsen again.”

#tw noncon #tw rape #tw daddy kink #tw abuse #tw cannibalism #tw eating disorders #tw anorexia #hannibal fic #yandere hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter #hannibal lecter x reader #reader fic

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agi-ppangx · 1 year

Text

💭childhood friends to lovers (100 followers special)

“some things never change, huh?” you heard jeongin’s voice coming from the porch. you looked up to see him approaching you, the sun beginning to set in the background.

jeongin and you were inseparable for as long as you could remember. he lived across the street and you always spent time together thanks to your parents being really good friends. you played almost every day, hanging out in your backyard or in his house, never getting tired of each other. as children, you knew all your secrets and fears, you trusted each other with your lives and swore you were never going to grow apart.

but time verified your friendship and you failed to maintain such a tight bond. you didn’t have any arguments, you just simply started to drift apart in high school. jeongin started to spend less and less time with you, too caught up with his new friends. you tried to fight for your friendship, you believed that not everything was lost, but every time you wanted to talk to him, he would brush you off and leave without a word. and even though you weren’t as close as before anymore, one day you noticed you were staring a bit too much at jeongin, admiring him from afar. he always seemed so happy with his group of friends, hanging out with them every day after school and attending parties with them. and even if you tried to be happy for him you couldn’t stop the jealousy spreading through your body. because you were supposed to do these things with him, you were supposed to stay friends. maybe even more than friends, you thought to yourself one day. but then you completely parted ways, going to college and having absolutely no clue what was going on with each other.

until now. your parents decided to invite jeongin's family for dinner, since they haven't properly talked with his parents in years. with that, they thought that it would be a great idea for you and jeongin to reconnect and spend some time together, just like you used to as kids.

"you still use the same swing," jeongin continued, sitting next to you on the swing set. you looked at him, kind of confused and he clarified. "you always used the one on the left. you claimed it can go higher." you scoffed at his words. “because it does go higher,” you giggled and so did jeongin. then the silence settled between you two and you just sat there, trying to gather thoughts and actually start a proper conversation. you wanted to ask him so many things - what do you major in at college? are you dating anyone? why did you move away from me without a word?

“how have you been lately?” it was jeongin who broke the silence first, not looking at you. his voice was faint, almost unsure, as if he was afraid. you thought about your response for a moment and then spoke softly, “i’m fine, just kind of tired of everything.” jeongin nodded, as if he was trying to say me too. “i missed you,” he then whispered and it made you finally look up at him. the air between you got thicker, your heart was racing and you didn’t know if you were mad at him or relieved that he missed you just as you missed him. “then why didn’t you call me? or message me? you could’ve done anything, i don’t understand why you didn’t,” you said eventually, too tired to even try to lie and tell him “oh i missed you too, we should totally forget about all those years we didn’t spend together and catch up”. you needed some kind of explanation. jeongin sighed loudly at your words. “i- i don’t know… i guess i was afraid?” he responded, though it sounded more like a question rather than a statement. “afraid of what?” you asked, trying to get him speaking. he started this whole i missed you conversation and now he needed to tell you everything if he wanted to restore your relationship.

jeongin was silent, he didn’t respond to your question and you started to grow impatient. “i know that… when people grow up they tend to part their ways, it’s normal and it happened to us. what i didn’t like is that you suddenly started treating me like air when i tried to talk to you and now you come back and say you missed me,” you hissed through clenched teeth and got up from the swing. “well, guess what, i missed you too, but i actually made an effort to save this friendship while you decided to completely ignore me,” you continued and felt jeongin’s fingers wrap around your wrist. “yn, i-” “i just think it’s unfair, because you come here from nowhere, saying you missed me, when it’s me who sent you birthday wishes every year, it's me who left all those christmas gifts for you in your parents’ house and it’s me who offered meeting up a few times and all those times you ignored me, you never responded, you never said a stupid thank you, you just left me and the worst thing is that i still like you and i still want to be with you and-” you stopped, suddenly aware that you may have confessed a bit too much. you felt your cheeks grow warmer and the tears started to wail in your eyes. you desperately tried to blink them away, not wanting jeongin to see you crying, but he already got up and stood right in front of you. he wiped the single tear from your face that managed to fall down and hugged you tightly. you wanted to escape his embrace at first, but then you simply gave up and let yourself cry into his chest. you wanted to remember this moment, in case you ruined everything and your friendship was lost.

“i’m really sorry,” jeongin whispered into your hair. “i was acting like an asshole, i- i was so scared to admit that you’re more than a friend to me that i decided to push you away. and i know it's a shitty explanation and i understand if you don’t forgive me, but i’m genuinely sorry for my behaviour,” he continued, his voice unstable. you pulled away a bit to look him in the eyes. more than a friend? “you did act like an asshole, i must admit,” you started slowly, wiping your eyes. “and it hurt me, it still hurts, but… i wanna give you a chance, because i like you a bit too much and- and i’m just tired of this whole situation,” you mumbled and hugged him again to hide your rosy cheeks. jeongin started gently stroking your head, rocking you side to side. “i’ve never purposefully meant to hurt you but i know i have and i want you to know i’ll do anything to atone for my actions.” you giggled at his serious tone and pulled away once again. “anything?” you asked him, your gaze wandered between his eyes and his lips. “anything.” “then kiss me,” you whispered, leaning closer and closer to him with every passing second. “with pleasure,” he responded and captured your lips in a soft kiss. not everything was said and you both knew you were in for a serious conversation, but in that moment your heart was finally full after so many years of longing and you thought that it was more than enough for then.

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

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littlemissmanga · 4 months

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What Are You Wearing?

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader

W/C: 400 (lazy writing)

Rating: R, 18+ (no spice but pretty close)

A/N: I started this months ago but apparently never finished it. Whoops! So here it is :D

It's set in S3, EP 6+7 (Infiltration and Extraction), so very slight season 3 spoilers. Divider by @stars-n-spice

While at Teth, you decide to use Rex’s offered hospitality to finally wash your grimy clothes. But finding yourself without anything to change into, you steal Crosshair’s blacks. Just the top, though, as the bottoms don’t fit. It comes down just long enough to hit your mid-thigh.

Your clothes should be done, so you make your way across the base, not noticing several pairs of eyes following you.

You do, however, notice when Crosshair cuts across your path, glowering at you.

“What are you wearing?”

“Oh, my clothes are in the wash, so I had to borrow your blacks. Sorry, but my stuff should be done now. I was just on my way to grab them now.”

“Pants?”

“Yeah, in the wash.”

“No. From my blacks.”

You glance down at your bare legs. “They’re back on your bunk.”

“I’m aware. Care to tell me why?”

You shrug. “They wouldn’t stay up. The shirt is long enough, anyway. It’s fine.”

Crosshair grabs your arm, his grip firm but not tight enough to hurt.

“No. It isn’t.”

He drags you to one of the empty back rooms, pressing you against the door once it closes behind you and making you shiver.

“Wanna tell me why it isn’t fine, kitten?” he asked, nipping harshly at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Cause – oh, fuck!” you hiss as his knee comes up to press firmly against your core. But when you try to rock against him, he stops you, demanding his answer. “Cause everyone could see.”

Crosshair growled and pulled you along his thigh, making you writhe on him. “Everyone did see. Saw their eyes track you across the damn room.”

It always surprised you when Crosshair’s jealousy got the better of him, but it never failed to light you up.

You nuzzle into his neck, pressing your tongue against his pulse point until his grip on your hips starts to feel like it’ll bruise.

“They didn’t see everything. That’s just for you.”

Crosshair’s kiss is demanding and all-consuming. His lips dance over yours, forcing them to give beneath his, before he bunches the fabric of his shirt at your sides, teasingly pulling his hands up slowly.

“That’s right. Now show me what’s mine.”

Liked this fic? Check out my Masterlist.

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino

@wolffegirlsunite @secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @freesia-writes

@multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations @sunshinesdaydream

@wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical-illustrator

#tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair x reader #white ppl spicy #so like not spicy but you probably shouldn't read it at work #it is safe-ish for Costco tho #slight spoilers #tbb season 3 spoilers #tbb spoilers

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lovebugism · 1 year

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Having a unserious argument with band AU!Eddie and there’s a moment where you both stare at each other and then his eyes flick down to ur lips. Which leads to you making out and forgetting about what the argument was about in the first place

bug's blurb sleepover (⁎˃ᴗ˂⁎)!

You knew the argument was stupid, but you also knew you were too mad to care.

Like, otherworldly levels of mad. Levels that feel nearly unprecedented, even though you’re well aware it’s over something so damn mundane.

Night of the Living Dead was playing at a drive-in in the same city the Corroded Coffin tour bus had parked in for the next few days. And Eddie wanted to take you. He said he’s wanted to take you out for weeks now, but your schedules just hadn’t allowed him the time to do so.

His van hasn’t gotten much use in quite some time either. It’s just been dragging behind the tour bus and rusting more every time it rains. You, Gareth, and Jeff all told him that he wouldn’t have much time to drive it anywhere, but Eddie only said that “it broke his heart too bad to leave her behind.”

Now, he’s glad that he didn’t. It’ll be good to take you for a drive in it, to roll the windows down and turn the radio all the way up, to watch you in between watching the road and pretend like you’re teenagers again.

And it was really cute, how excited he’d been to take you to see a film you’d both seen a thousand times over. “Taking you to a drive-in actually sounds super fun, babe, and I don’t even mean that in a pervy way. I just wanna spend time alone with you,” he’d told you before smirking. “Even though I won’t be opposed to a little heavy petting.”

It was real adorable. Until you started to get all philosophical about zombies, that is.

Eddie tried to tell you that zombies were still human after they turned. You scoffed when you disagreed, telling him that if that were the case, you wouldn’t have to use the word turned to describe them — that you wouldn’t even need the word zombies at all.

He refused to listen to you, though, and kept on saying that they were “basically still humans but insane.”

And if you’d told yourself an hour or more ago that the two of you would be in a screaming match over this exact thing, you would’ve laughed. But now that it’s your reality, you’re absolutely fuming about it.

“They aren’t human anymore, Eds!” you argue in the confines of the bunk room, shielded only by the sliding door that does little to stifle your argument. You flail your hands around like crazy, eyes wide and glinting with annoyance. “It’s like a parasitic relationship! The zombie is just inhabiting the body of the dead human. Like a— I don’t know— like a fucking hermit crab or something.”

“They turn to zombies because they’re infected, right? Do you stop being a human because you get a little virus?” he retorts with a teasing lilt that only angers you more. “No! You don’t! It’s the same thing!”

“It’s not the same thing!”

“Well, you obviously don’t know what you’re talking about it!”

“I know what I’m talking about, asshole! I’m just not gonna listen to a guy who failed senior year three times!” you shout back, obviously angry and irrational with it.

You would’ve apologized for trying to hit him where it hurts if you saw that it had upset him in some way. But it doesn’t. Instead, he just keeps on teasing you.

“Ooh, you wanna kiss me so fucking bad,” he sing-songs to you, at you, with furrowed brows and lips set in a slight pout like a child.

That does little to quell your rage. Quite the opposite, really. He keeps dousing the fire in your chest with gasoline. You can feel the flames starting to prickle at your burning skin. But you make the mistake of flitting your gaze down to his mouth, only for half of a moment, but long enough for him to catch it. He grins, feeling like he’s won in some way.

“That’s okay, baby. You didn’t have to get all angry about it. If you wanted to kiss me, you coulda just said—”

“I hate you so fucking much,” you grumble to yourself, crossing your arms as you start to storm out of the room.

Eddie doesn’t let you get very far, though. His long legs rush the short distance over to you. He wraps two lanky arms around your frame and cages your own within his too tight embrace. You feel his chest rumble with the loud laugh that spills from his mouth, the breath of it on your skin when he noses at the junction between neck and shoulder.

“This is really fucking dumb,” he says with a hearty chuckle.

“Yeah, you are dumb, you’re right,” you monotone in return, not conceding to this imagined argument but not trying to squirm in his hold either.

“Hey! I’m trying to extend the olive branch here, alright?”

“Whatever…”

He smacks a loud kiss on your shoulder and loosens his grip on you when he’s sure you’re not still angry enough to storm out. You are, though — still angry — but rather than leave, you turn around to face him. Your scowl is met with a beam from the boy ahead of you.

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree, alright, doll?” Eddie tells you with a shrug, trying his best to stop the argument without either of you having to admit you were wrong.

“I don’t know,” you lilt. “I think this might be a deal breaker for me, Eds.”

“Well, we certainly can’t have that…. What’ll happen to the band?” he teases.

You feign a sad sigh. “Guess you’ll have to find another bassist, Eds.”

“What can I do to make it up to you, doll? The fans’ll be real upset if the world’s best bassist is suddenly MIA.”

You purse your lips to the side and flit your eyes to the ceiling, pretending to think about his offer. Your attempt to ignore all the butterflies fluttering in your stomach is futile when he starts to rub his palms up and down your arm, in a soft and soothing rhythm. His touch quells your anger, puts out your fire without really even trying. No one can strike a flame within you, make it burn all big and bright, then douse it with cool, sparkling water quite like Eddie can.

It feels good not to be angry anymore. You’ll be able to laugh about it soon.

Not now, though.

“Well, you’re going to take me to the drive-in tomorrow night and you’re gonna buy me all the snacks that I want—”

“I can do that,” he nods firmly.

“And halfway through the movie, I want to stop watching it and watch you while you eat me out in the back of your van—”

He sputters out a laugh. “I can definitely do that.”

“And until then, you’re gonna kiss me silly, Eddie Munson.”

The grin he flashes you then is no less teasing than it had been before, but it doesn’t make you nearly as angry. Instead, it makes you smile, too.

“I knew this was just a ploy to get me to makeout with you,” he lilts and presses the first of many kisses to the tip of your nose. “You don’t have to get all angry next time, alright? I’ll kiss you anytime you want.”

“Promise?” you wonder playfully, already knowing the answer. You just want to hear him say it.

“I can show you better than I can tell you,” he quips.

It takes no more than twenty seconds for him to get you into your bunk and squeeze in over top of you. In record time, he’s kissing you absolutely breathless — like he won’t be satisfied until he’s swallowed you whole. You want so desperately for him to.

And if your mouth wasn’t kiss-bitten and half-numb, if your lungs weren’t screaming for air every time he kissed you, and your brain wasn’t aching for him to keep kissing you every time he stopped — you might’ve made some stupid joke. You would’ve teased him, told him how obedient he was to listen to you without question, just to drive him crazy.

But you can’t. Because he’s kissed you so insanely stupid, he’s the only thought in your head.

And if Eddie’s this perfect now — just moments after a stupid argument that had you both seeing red — you can’t imagine what he’ll be like tomorrow. As the rough pad of his tongue ruts against your own, you imagine how he’ll feel in between your legs when he’s got them bent over his shoulders in the back of his van.

#bug's blurb sleepover #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #published by bug #rockstar!eddie #eddie spaghetti drabble #st drabbles

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