#here comes the... uh... fun chapter

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 4

one || two || three

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: seijoh4 x gn!reader [ oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsun, maki ]

warnings: mature content. MDI. cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, the word “dick” said over a million times lol this chapter is basically bigdick!4 supremacy, corny behavior, camboy!maki, slight mentions of degradation, iwa’s is the shortest (I’M SORRY), some minor errors probably and i think that’s it :] !!

notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT :'))) life was kicking my ass and the last thing i could think about was getting metaphorically dicked down lol but hope you enjoy, thank y'all so much for your patience, and the last couple parts coming soon!

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy, @captaincyberqueen , @tsukiran

OIKAWA would be the reason the list even exists, let’s be honest. 

But, for the sake of the plot, we’ll pretend otherwise.

Once again, without fail, after another grand win for the great king, he’s swarmed by his devoted groupies—Shoving their phones, gifts, and themselves in his face hoping to catch even a sliver of his attention.

And once again, you stood on the sidelines, impatiently waiting for him to leave the spotlight; irked your soul sometimes.

It’s not that you were against him being praised or anything, even though his head was fat enough to begin with, you loved the admiration people had for him. But there’s a fine line between being a fan and being a straight-up weirdo. 

And right now, they’re tap-dancing on that line something fierce. 

“Tooru!~ will you sign right here?” 

One pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing more of her breasts that were pushed up damn-near to her chin whilst wearing a sultry smile. You caught a small glimpse of panic flash across his features before he covered it with a nervous laugh, eyes subtly shifting over to you as he replied. “..How 'bout a photo instead?” 

Things went on like that for the next few minutes. Someone would even take it a step further by flat out asking for his number, or if he was single. They already knew the answer to that, it was the same every time, yet they continuously tried their luck as if someday, through the power of delusion and manifestation, his answer would miraculously change despite you always attending his practices and his games, wearing his spare jersey, holding his hand, shoving your tongue down his throat, didn’t matter—Them hoes were relentless.

But, so were you. 

“Oh, Tooru!~ If you don’t wrap this up, you’ll be walking home!~” You sang, mirroring the tone of the girl from earlier. The semi-empty threat made the setter perk up like a hound, eyes wide as that same panic returned as well.

Although this time, he wasn’t so quick to play it off. 

“U-Uh,” he squeaked, then immediately covered by clearing his throat. “Yes, uh, well, it’s been great chatting with you all tonight. Thank you again for your love and support for the team, it's always appreciated. I hope you’ll continue to cheer us and myself oninthefuture—WAIT! [____]-chan! Don’t leave, y’know my poor legs won’t survive the walk back! Baby, c'mon, wait up!” 

Oikawa whined as he scrambled to catch up to your retreating form, no longer concerned with the crowd of disgruntled faces he left behind as they watched their object of affection slip away yet again. A small part of you wanted to turn back and stick your tongue out at them in petty victory, but you refrained. The sound of their great king pleading for your attention was satisfactory enough.

You barely made it outside before his long arms wrapped around your front, locking you to his chest as he leaned almost his entire weight on you. You could feel his heart thrumming against your head as he panted. Eventually, he huffed, no doubt pouting as he gently swayed you in his arms. “You’re mean.” 

Keeping your gaze forward, you frowned. “And I have the right to be. You said you’d tell some of those ‘fans’ of yours to chill out—it’s getting way out of hand, Tooru. That one girl practically flashed her damn tits at you, and you gawked like a virgin.” 

He chortled, incredulously, “I did not! She caught me off guard..!” 

“And yet, you rewarded her with a photo instead of calling out her inappropriate behavior. Make it make sense.” 

You attempted to shrug him off only for his hold to tighten, spinning you around to gaze at you with chocolate brown eyes resembling that of a puppy out in the rain—One of the unfair tactics of Tooru Oikawa to get back on your good side. You had full intent of ignoring him, standing your ground…but how could you possibly stay mad at that adorable face? 

Easy. By not looking directly at it. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so,” you gently pushed away the setter’s face, earning another whine in protest. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily. I’m really upset with you.” 

“Buh I dinit do anyfing,” he said through smooshed lips. 

“And that’s the problem. You need to set boundaries with them, Tooru. Things’ll only continue to get out of hand the longer you enable it. Next thing you know they’re clawing and biting at your flesh so they can take a piece of you home with them under their nails and in their teeth.”

Oikawa grimaced, leaning back. “Ew. Graphic. They’re fans, baby, not rabid animals. I think you may be exaggerating.”

You cocked a brow. “Am I now? Well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

The team had never seen their captain move so fast in their entire season. This was the first time he’d just straight up avoided his entourage and head straight for the showers after practice, scurrying off like his ass was on fire. Questions would spark around the gym about this drastic shift in behavior.

“What’s his deal?” One player voiced. “Usually he sticks around at least another hour to entertain his cult.”

“Not sure. After our last game, he’s been skittish.” Another replied.

A third jumped in after taking a swig of his water. “Think it’s got something to do with that..thing we saw the other night?”

The small group thought back to when all of their phones went off at the same time, social medias in a frenzy about their very own star player. At first glance, they figured it was just highlights of their game, specifically highlighting Oikawa. But, upon further inspection…it was something else entirely.

'Tooru Oikawa. 6’3ft King of the Court, and also our hearts. Being notoriously known as the campus pretty boy, loved by many and envied by the rest, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to consider him the blueprint—The default setting of everyone’s wet dream. He’s a tall, talented, smooth-talker with playful eyes and a panty-dropping smile, a textbook definition of  ‘Prince Charming’. Everybody and they mama, daddy, even bald-headed granny would kill to jump this man’s bones. Many would see him as the romantic type, but there’s something more…unhinged hidden beneath the pretty-boy persona. After much debate, our beloved setter is to be dubbed a whole SWITCH, no nintendo. At first he’ll play the dominant role, but edge him long enough and you’ll bring the Great King to his knees, quivering, drooling, you name it. He’s shameless. 9.5/10 - half a point deducted for his inferiority/superiority complex. Get some therapy, babe. ♡’

They didn’t think much of it at the time, when it came to their attention whore of a captain, it wasn’t completely unexpected, especially if his groupies had anything to do with it. The players looked at one another, then back at the gaggle of hormones waiting for the brunette in question by the doors. It was unanimous.

“Yep.” “Uh-huh.”

The third player snorts. “‘bout time it sucked to be him for once.”

When Oikawa eventually exited the locker room, he did everything in his power to appear small, tip-toeing across the floor with his head down and shoulders hunched in crouching tiger-like fashion. He would’ve gotten away scott-free…if not for his petty teammates.

“See ya tomorrow, captain!”

It bounced off the gym walls, the setter grimacing as his devoted followers instantly looked in his direction, predatory gazes stunning him like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa shot the players a nasty glare over his shoulder, flipping them off and continuing for the exit. He attempted to stiff-arm his way through the hoard, ducking and dodging their grabby hands and shutting down their…bolder advances.

“Tooru-chan!~ Let me show you what I’m capable of, I’ll have you begging in no time, just say the word!~”

“Unhinged men are so my type—Step on me, spit on me, call me names until I cry, I want it all!~”

“I bet it’s bubblegum pink, right? Does it curve to the left or right?”

Oikawa blanched. “Ladies, please, this is ridiculous! You all know I’m in a relationship with-”

“They don’t have to know.”

One had tried reaching out to touch him, but was quickly thwarted when the setter grabbed her wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to get the message across—Too far. Everyone came to a hush at the sudden display, cowering slightly at the intensity that pooled in his eyes, dark and cold as he fixed the whole group with a stern expression. You were right (obviously). Things escalated the second they were given an inch, with complete disregard to his boundaries and what you meant to him.

These weren’t fans. Not real ones, at least.

Oikawa deeply exhaled through his nose, calming himself down to keep from saying something he’d regret. Releasing the girl’s wrist, the setter gently moved her out of his personal space, resadjusting his bag and sporting a rather disinterested expression.

“It appears you all have misunderstood your place. I’ll forgive that disgusting comment only once. But, if this obscene, rude, and down right shameful behavior continues, I’ll have no choice but to inform the coach of your harassment and have you banned from future practices and games. Do I make myself clear?”

When you arrived to pick up Oikawa per usual, you were surprised to see that he was already waiting for you, not a single group ie in sight.

Skeptical, you looked around as you approached him, thinking those buzzards were still in listening distance, just waiting to pounce. But, when all you’re welcomed with was a big hug and kiss, you relaxed. Oikawa pulled back and gave you a sheepish smile. He explained everything that had happened, rubbing his the back of his neck in embarrassment. When he finished, he looked down at you with those same puppy eyes he gave you the other day.

“Please don’t say I told you so?”

You cooed, reaching up to fiddle with his hair at his nape. He leaned into your touch, content. Until you said, “I told you so.”

He frowned. “You’re MEAN.”

Once IWAIZUMI learned it involved Oikawa in any way, that’s all he needed to know to have no interest in the list. Sort of like Sakusa, if the topic gets brought up, he finds himself tuning out. The last thing he needed was to get dragged into whatever mess his dumbass best friend got himself involved with. But, unfortunately for him, one doesn’t simply choose to be on the list…the list chooses you.

And one afternoon, the former ace was the unlucky winner.

‘Hajime Iwaizumi. 5’10ft hunk made of pure Husband Material. We’re talking the man who’ll open doors for you, pull out chairs, hold your bags without fuss, give you massages, cook you hearty meals, the whole nine yards. With that information in mind, you can’t tell me he’s not an absolute DOG in the bedroom. I’m talking about a man who’ll bully your insides, manhandle you and call you his “favorite cocksleave” or his “pretty little whore”. He’s the type to say the nastiest shit in your ear and tease you for the cute reactions you’d give him before shoving his tongue down your throat, while his dick kisses your appendix. Definitely a Hard Dom who only rewards good behavior, so if you plan to be a brat to this man—Good luck. But, as soon as he’s fucked that attitude outta you he’s back to being such a sweetheart! So so so attentive, so devoted, and will do anything for you. He’s God’s favorite. 1000000/10.’

“Oh? .. Hey, babe.” You said, curiously. Iwa grunted in response. “You know that list thingy Oikawa-?”

“Nope.” He easily answered, eyes focused ahead and he continued bench pressing the heavy bar.

You slap his chest. “You didn’t even let me finish!” He responded with a playful smirk, making you lightly slap him again.

Straddling his lap while he pumped iron was routine. It consisted of him doing what he does and you keeping him company, soaking up his presence until you inevitably left for your next lecture. Sometimes you kept count for him, other times you’d happily just be a distraction; today you did both.

“Haji,” you whined, wiggling a little. He ignored you on purpose, stubbornly refusing to indulge the topic. But that didn’t deter you from pestering him. “Ha-ji-me!”

“Ba-by-doll,” he echoed, grunting shortly after when he placed the heavy weight back on the rack, finished with the set. Panting, he sat up and readjusted you in his lap, hands resting on your thighs as he finally looked at you, amused at your scowl. “I don’t get why you’re so interested in that shitty list.”

“I’m not…until now.”

“Why?”

Turning your phone screen to show him the updated post, Iwa’s eyes scanned it before his brows furrowed in confusion, then tightened with irritation, jaw clenched and annoyance clear on his face. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to unsee it and merely laying back down on the bench. “Block them.”

You gaped. “What? No way!”

“It’s nothing but perverts with too much time on their hands,” he grunted, lifting up the bar and beginning his set. “It’ll rot your brain. Or what’s left of it, anyways.”

With a dramatic gasp, you retorted with, “Jerk. I’ll retweet and tell them you also love sucking on toes, how ‘bout that?”

Iwa paused mid-push. He eyed you from his laying position, voice dangerously low as he said, “Try it and I’ll bench press you next.”

“Hm.”

Through squinted eyes, MATTSUN briefly scanned the bright screen of Maki’s phone displaying the updated post that started circulating around their group for the past few minutes. Without much reaction, one would think he was too buzzed to be able to even comprehend it.

But he understood all too well.

‘Issei Matsukawa. 6’2ft lazy ass with a third leg. Doesn’t matter if he looks like he uses 5-and-1 body wash, he smells DELECTABLE. And don’t get me started on the gray, low-hanging joggers he usually wears around campus—He needs to be arrested walking around with a concealed weapon in those sweats—sir, put it in me AWAY. The literal embodiment of “If it slaps his thigh when he walk, I’ll listen when he talk.” The ultimate brat-tamer tbh. You can’t get under his skin, he’s so nonchalant and laid back, your attitude would just be foreplay for him (HIS FREAKY ASS). And if you think he’s already big on soft??? Bitch. Gon head and call outta work for tomorrow. 50/10.’

“Uh..congrats?” Kindaichi gave an awkward thumbs up.

Maki snickered, tongue in cheek. “Yeah, man, how’s it feel being ‘dick of the week’? They’re even givin’ it nicknames ‘nd shit.” He scrolled further into the depths of debauchery. Peering from over his shoulder to see for himself, Kunimi‘s face scrunched in mild disgust.

“Someone called it ‘The Door-Knocker’? Fucking cringe.”

“Fucking retweet.” The strawberry blonde hummed in approval. “Oo, I like this one—‘The Punisher’. That’s badass.”

Yahaba snickered only to then start choking on his drink, snatching Kyotani by the front of his shirt for support as he hacked for air. The wing-spiker merely glared, winding his hand back to beat the shit out of his back. “Ack! Kyo—fuc-! BRO STOP.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’re killing me!”

“Same thing,” he grunted.

Mattsun snorted, taking another swig of beer. After skimming through the thread, he lowly drawled out, “Cool, I guess. No big deal.”

He didn’t know much about the list, only that if you ended up on it you were pretty much an ace in the game of dick-slanging. But, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet telling him that he fucks. He had you to attest to all that, and your opinion was the only one that truly mattered. Not that either of you would kiss and tell.

His friends, on the other hand, felt otherwise. As far as they were concerned, Mattsun was a single man. And right now, he was shitting on a blessing sent from the gods. Maki halted his sip to eye his best friend, beer can lowering suspiciously. “No big deal?”

Mattsun shrugged. “t’s what I said.”

Yahaba finally caught his breath, chiming in with a winded, “Yeah right…you’re probably itching to check your DMs. Tell me ‘m wrong.”

“Ok. You’re wrong,” he replied, chugging the remainder of his beer can before crushing it. Yahaba went to argue, but Mattsun cut him off by speaking through a burp. “Don’t got the energy…to entertain someone who just wants my dick.”

“Don’t you mean, ‘Door-knocker’?” Kunimi teased.

“I thought it was ‘The Punisher’..?” Watari asked, uncertain.

“I saw ‘Horse Cock’ on there.” Kindaichi grimaced.

Mattsun shook his head. “Whatever. Point is, ‘m not interested in racking up my body count anytime soon, so those DMs will just go unanswered. Hell, maybe even deleted.”

“Bullshit,” Maki challenged. He points an accusing finger. “There’s another reason. It’s ‘cause you’re already screwing around with someone, aren’t ya?”

A silence fell upon the group, all eyes instantly honing in on the taller male with metaphorical ears raised high in scandalized curiosity, some (read: Kindaichi and Yahaba) more obvious about it than others. Mattsun merely gave a halfhearted shrug, neither denying nor confirming the information. “Aha! See, see, look at ‘em, dodging the question! He’s so cuffed.”

“No shot,” Yahaba deadpanned, “mister ‘Noncommittal’ himself?”

Mattsun glared. “Oi. I commit to stuff.”

“He’s gettin’ defensive.” Kunimi pointed out with a wry grin.

“Must be true, then.” Kyotani nodded, mischievous glint in his eye.

The others hummed in agreement, theorizing about his type in partners and how there could be a potential special someone in their senior’s life, while the bastard behind it all watched smugly on the couch, sipping his drink like a gossiping old biddy. Mattsun squinted in annoyance at his best friend. “Et tu, dumbass?”

Maki raised his hands, “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You basically told on yourself. No guy in their right mind would ever pass up on that many opportunities unless he’s A) Stupid, B) Aro/Ace, or C) Spoken for. Now, my vote’s between A and C, but feel free to update me on your sexual orientation.”

Mattsun flipped him off, sporting a sarcastic expression.

His phone then began to vibrate on the table. As quickly as they looked at the former middle blocker, everyone’s gaze shot toward the offending device, then back on him; expectantly. Despite his calm exterior the brunette felt his heart-rate spike, brow twitching at the childish looks and jeers he started getting, borderline peer-pressuring him to pick it up.

After a few seconds of continuous ringing, Kunimi huffed in mild annoyance for him to, “Answer it, already.”

Maki added fuel to fire by saying, “Unless you want one of us to answer for you-” Mattsun snatched the phone off the table.

With the grace of a gorilla, he stood from the couch and quickly shuffled to the corner of the room. Answering it, he cleared his throat, face flushing at the chorus of snickers coming from behind him as he greeted you with a simple, but elated, “Hey.”

“Hey, ‘sei!”

“Hey,” he said again, breathing out a small chuckle. “Can’t sleep?”

You responded with your own chuckle. “Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you’d wanna maybe…ride around with me? I’m thinking McDonald’s. Oo! Or that wing place by campus, y’know, the one with the teriyaki flavor you liked? I think they don’t close until, like, 2am. Or…was it 1am?”

Mattsun snorted at your rambles, leaning against the wall as he let you continue. Unbeknownst to him, the guys were practically stacked on top of each other, stretching their ears to hear your voice. From what they could pick up, you sounded so upbeat, animated as you spoke. They watched in awe as their senior barely spoke but was engaged in whatever you were saying, nodding along and humming to let you know he was still listening. If he wasn’t faced the other way, they were certain they’d see a smitten expression on his face.

“Mhm.. mhm. Yeah, ‘m sure that squirrel really appreciated you sharing your almonds, baby.”

“BABY???” The group exclaimed.

The brunette jumped slightly, completely forgetting where he was for a moment there. He briefly looked over his shoulder before turning back towards the wall with a groan—Every single one of those bastards were either grinning or gaping in shock. Mattsun cursed under his breath. You made a noise of confusion.

“Are you with the guys? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! We can totally chill another night if you-”

“Nah, was just about to leave. Think I’ve entertained these assholes long enough.” He grumbled, walking over to grab his jacket, but not before thumping Maki on the head; the latter hissed through his teeth in pain as he held the throbbing spot. “Rather be with you anyways. I’ll send the address, lemme know when you’re outside.”

“O-Oh, okay then!” You giggled, flattered. “I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

He turned back to look at the group, smug as they still watched him with disbelief painted on their faces as Mr. Non-committal was ditching them to hang with his commitment. Like he tried to tell them before, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet. He had you, and that’s more than enough.

“Love you too, [_____].” Then, he walks out. Leaving the room in even more chaos compared to when he first answered the phone, immediately on his ass as the scrambled after him for answers.

“[______]?????”

Who would’ve guessed their sweet, beloved volleyball manager from high school was the one getting visits from “The Punisher”.

Within his inner circle, MAKI is usually overlooked. He’s not popular like Oikawa, nor jacked like Iwa, and he’s doesn’t have the whole ‘sexy aloof’ vibe like Mattsun. He’s just…tall. And funny—The ‘Pete Davidson’ of the group. At least, that’s what your friends called him. Somehow, once again during your outing with them at the mall the topic of your relationship became the focal point of the conversation, stretching their brains for why you were so enamored with a guy like him.

“He gotta be packin’. Like, I’m talking anaconda.”

“Type shit. Y’know what they say about them tall and skinny ones.”

You rolled your eyes, wry smirk spreading across your face as you busied yourself sifting through a clothes rack. The conspiratorial discussion had been going on for the past ten minutes, throwing anything and everything at the wall until something stuck—Meaning, waiting for you to confirm. “[_____]. Be honest. It’s ‘cause of his dick, right?”

A lady standing on the other side of the rack gasped in shock, face twisting up in revulsion as she clutched her purse before stomping away, scandalized. You snorted, peeking over your shoulder to raise an eyebrow at them while they struggled to suppress their childish merriment at the poor woman’s embarrassment.

“Quit it before they kick us out.” You attempted to sound stern, but there was no hiding your own amusement. One friend playfully nudged you while the other began to snicker. “And no, it’s not because of that. It’s a bonus, though.”

The first gasped, then exclaimed, “So it is big!”

“’m not finna start with you,” you replied looking back at the clothes, pretending not to know them as nearby customers gave the side-eye. Neither one paid any mind as they continued to gossip. “We have this conversation every time we go out. Give it a rest.”

“Not until you tell us what you see in him.”

“I mean, I get it, but then I look at his friends and…” she hissed through her teeth, shaking her head. “I’m just saying. You fumbled.”

“I’m not taking that from someone who slept with a door dasher just because they got the restaurant to put extra sauce in your bag.”

The guilty party gaped, “It wasn’t included in their instructions, they were a real one for that!”

“Still don’t know why you did it,” the other friend sighed. “The food was cold, and I’m certain they took some of my fries.”

“Shut up, we’re not talking about my poor life choices, we’re talking about [_____]’s.”

“Fuck you,” you laughed. “You two need to get off my man. You haven’t even properly met him yet. He’s a sweetheart, he treats me like royalty, and I don’t care what y’all say, that man is fine.”

“Please. You’re just dickmatized.”

“Enough about his dick already!”

Your outburst drew the attention of a nearby employee; the store manager. Even though she wore a professional smile, you could see death in her eyes. With a nervous smile, you gave an apologetic wave before quickly grabbing your friends by their arms and escorting yourselves out before you got banned. Your closet was getting full, anyways.

“Look…I know the guys I’ve dated in the past were…questionable. But, I really like this one. And I swear the pictures I showed you don’t do him justice, his goofy ass just never sits still.”

They looked skeptical, having heard that one before. You huffed.

“Alright. How about I invite him over tonight? That way you have a chance to get to know him better. And if you’re still iffy, then…then you’ll have to get over it because you love me dearly and want me to be happy and just because you don’t think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I don’t, he is very gorgeous to me-!”

“[_____], honey, breathe.”

You stopped to inhale, then concluded with a small, “Please?”

They exchanged another look of skepticism, until the second added one condition. “He better not show up empty-handed.”

—

When the doorbell rang, the mood instantly shifted in the room, your friends going silent and gazes sharp as they looked at your door. Unbeknownst to all of you, on the other side of the door, Maki shivered, confused where that sudden chill came from. You gave them an eager, though strained, smile before scampering over to greet your awaiting guest. Upon opening the door, your smile slowly dropped at the sight of Maki sipping out of a large styrofoam cup with the words 'Big Gulp' written on it, dressed casually in sweats and a beanie, appearing very empty-handed.

After he swallowed, he gave a drawled, "Yo."

Your eye twitched. "Takehiro." He hummed, taking another sip of his drink. "Remember that important thing we discussed over the phone? Literally the only thing I asked you not to be when you got here?"

He thought about it, taking note of the daggers you were shooting at his cup. Maki made a noise of realization. "Oh, right. I bought snacks too, buuut I accidentally ate ‘em all on the way. My bad. But, look," he shook the cup, "technically still not empty-handed."

A small part of you wanted to be mad, frustrated at the least...but there was no hiding the giggle you rewarded him with, of which turned into more giggles. With sigh, you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his middle in a hug. "You’re so dumb."

"Missed you, too." He playfully rolled his eyes, returning the hug and craning his neck to kiss your forehead. The two of you stood there for a moment, just basking in each other's warmth. But, the moment was short-lived when he gave a long, exaggerated exhale through his nose before murmuring, "Ready?"

"...No." You groaned.

"Damn, do they bite or something?"

"No, they’re just...unfiltered. I love them, don't get me wrong, but they can work on your nerves to an olympic degree. You'll see once we get inside...They're gonna ask about your dick, by the way. Just ignore it."

Maki snorted, bewildered. "I'll try my best."

"Also...try not to mention that...other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know," you raised your brows, looking over your shoulder in case they were eavesdropping before softly continuing, "that post."

It took a second, but he eventually caught on to what you meant.

‘Takehiro Hanamaki. 6’0ft shameless manslut (affectionately) who’s taken the campus by storm with his rather...interesting side hobby that pretty much has every student reaching for their wallets and switching to incognito mode on their browsers. Who would’ve guessed that lanky, low-eyed beanpole had the talent to film such erotic content and put a whole industry to shame with just his smartphone and a couple LED lights? After getting past the paywall and binging his videos (for research) it’s safe to say this man is very much a power bottom, maybe even a top depending on his mood, with a fowl mouth that’s not afraid to moan like a porn star. Best $200 I’ve ever spent (FOR RESEARCH). Highly recommend if you’re interested in having the best guided orgasm of your life—Link is in the thread! Get that bag, king. 10/10.’

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face instantly. He bounced his eyebrows, leaning down to teasingly say, "Ohh. That post. What? Don't want 'em to know how I make my living? Or, you scared they'll find out you're my number one supporter, always touching themselves just behind the camera-"

"Hiro!" You hissed, face set ablaze as you looked over your shoulder again, anxious. He found your reaction cute, using the straw in his cup to poke your cheek. You huffed at him. "I don't want them to pry. I doubt they've seen it since they go to a different uni, and I'd like to keep it that way. Okay?"

He easily shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

You exhaled, relieved. “Thank you.” You turned to head back inside, knowing your friends were just itching to bombard Maki, however you were stopped when he grabbed your arm.

“But.”

“…But?”

“I’ll let the dick-related questions slide and keep my side hustle under wraps, but you have to do something for me in exchange for my good behavior.”

You tilted your head, nervous. “Like what?”

His grinned mischievously, eyes half-mast as he used his free hand to hold your jaw, making you gasp softly when he tilted your head back. “Instead of being behind the camera in my next video…my number one supporter has to be the star.”

You rapidly blinked, heat traveling throughout your body once you registered his words. Fumbling over your own, you didn’t have time to protest when the door behind you opens wide, revealing your impatient friends. Maki let go of your jaw and settled for wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he waved at them with the hand that still had the large cup in it.

“‘sup.” He flashed them a sly grin. Maki took in their shocked faces, hoping they were a good sign as he introduced himself. “[_____]’s told me a lot about you guys. Hope you didn’t mind me crashing your get together.”

They absolutely did not mind.

You weren’t lying—Those pictures you showed did him dirty. Nothing could’ve prepared them for the uno reverse that was Takehiro Hanamaki. From his lax posture and cozy demeanor, sleepers build and cute smile, it’s no wonder you were drawn to him. Plus he’s funny with a big dick (allegedly)?????

After you composed yourself, still reeling from your conversation earlier, you eventually mustered up a triumphant smile at your friends as they gaped up at Maki, speechless. “So? You guys still think I fumbled?”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation, attempted rape, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglamela, @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 , @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @mysssticc @babygirl-panda19 @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1

AN: Bit of a late upload for you night owls and a nice surprise for my early risers! Someone tell me to stop making the chapters longer, thank you LOL. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy! This is on AO3 as usual! :D

"So… uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert. "Dog? What dog?" he said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question. "You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.5

Xavier drummed his fingers rhythmically on the glass counter, each tap growing more impatient as the seconds stretched on. His eyes darted around the cluttered store, scanning the shelves filled with everything from worn-out sneakers to high-end dress shoes. The store clerk had disappeared into the back room several minutes ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Xavier wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find here.

He had strolled in with nothing more than a photo of a shoe print—a faint clue at best—but it felt more productive than sitting idly by, doing nothing while the answers to your disappearance slipped further out of reach. At least this was action, however uncertain.

Was this even a tangible way to find you? Was he grasping at straws, wasting precious time on a hopeless lead?

And the most haunting question of all—were you even still alive?

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, as if closing them tightly enough could block out the flood of dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go there, not now. Pushing the fear and uncertainty away, he tried to focus on the faint glimmer of hope that had brought him here in the first place. Anything was better than surrendering to despair.

"This is all I could find on it. It's certainly a unique pair," the shop clerk continued, offering a slight smile. "I'm not as technologically advanced as most shops around here, so sorry to disappoint. But, may I ask—why come to my little shop instead of one of those fancy places downtown?"

Xavier took the pamphlet, glancing over the information quickly before shifting his gaze back to the clerk. "Well," he began, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I heard you were the kind of guy who could identify a pair of shoes just by its print."

The clerk chuckled softly, his weathered face creasing with the effort. "You've been a great help, actually," Xavier added, sliding the pamphlet into his jacket pocket with a nod of appreciation.

The clerk gave an approving nod, the lines of his face softening in quiet satisfaction before he turned his back again, settling into the familiar rhythm of his work. Xavier headed toward the door, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots echoing through the small, dimly lit shop. His hand hovered over the door handle, but just as his fingers brushed the cool metal, a nagging thought rooted him in place. He paused, heart pounding slightly as the question formed in his mind.

He turned back, the weight of uncertainty pulling at his voice. "Say... you wouldn’t happen to know where this shoe was originally made, would you?"

The clerk stopped, mid-motion, his hands faltering over a pile of worn soles. The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing out a moment of silence as the man stared down, his brow furrowing. It was clear he hadn’t thought about it in some time. Xavier felt a flicker of hope, unsure if it would lead him anywhere, but desperately clinging to the possibility.

The clerk finally turned, his face thoughtful, his voice quieter now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, as if pulling the memory from a fog. "Last I saw of that shoe, it came from a company based in the... er, N1—no, wait..." His brow furrowed deeper as he worked to piece it together. "N109 Zone. Yeah, that’s the one."

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight Xavier couldn’t ignore. The clerk’s tone wasn’t just casual recollection—it was tinged with something more, like the memory of that particular shoe stirred something deeper. Xavier felt the knot of tension in his chest tighten.

Xavier felt his breath catch in his throat. N109 Zone. The name alone sent a chill down his spine. He had heard plenty about that place—mostly rumors, but enough to know that it was a dangerous, lawless sector. Few dared to go there unless they had no other choice, and even fewer came back with stories worth telling. It was a no-man’s-land, a forgotten corner of land where control was lost long ago. The kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.

His mind raced, piecing it together. If the shoe had come from there... Did that mean you were there too? His stomach churned at the thought. The faint hope he had clung to started to blur with the creeping dread of what fate could have fallen upon you in the N109 Zone.

"You’re sure about that?" he asked, his voice betraying the slight anxiety creeping in around the edges. The clerk glanced up from his work, noticing the shift in Xavier’s tone.

"Yeah," the clerk said, more firmly this time. "I’m sure. That shoe—rare brand—hard to forget. The company folded years ago, but they used to operate out of the N109 Zone. Only place I’ve ever seen them sold."

Xavier swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. If the shoe came from N109, it could be a clue—a dangerous one, but still the only lead he had. He felt the urgency building inside him, a gnawing sense that time was running out, but also the undeniable question of what he might find if he went there.

Could you really be in a place like that? His mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but there were too many unknowns. Were you okay?

"I...appreciate your help," Xavier muttered, his voice thick with tension. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're not actually thinking of going there, are you?" the store clerk asked, his voice edged with disbelief as he raised an eyebrow. He leaned slightly forward over the counter, studying Xavier with a mixture of concern and amusement. "No offense, but a pretty fella like you doesn’t exactly look like the type who could survive in a place like that. Not really worth the hassle for a pair of shoes don't you think?"

Xavier paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t turn around immediately, letting the weight of the clerk’s words linger for a moment. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm, almost casual. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice steady, though the tension in his body remained. "I've dealt with much worse."

The clerk blinked, surprised by Xavier's calm demeanor, but said nothing more.

Xavier turned to face the door once again, his hand resting on the handle as he prepared to step out into the cold streets. "Thanks again," he added, his tone carrying a finality that didn’t invite more questions.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door and walked out, leaving the shop behind. His heart pounded a little harder now, not just from the looming threat of the N109 Zone, but from the resolve building inside him. There was no turning back now.

He had a tangible clue—a real, solid lead to your whereabouts. For the first time in weeks, the haze of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly. But now that he knew you were possibly in one of the most dangerous areas anyone could imagine, time was no longer on his side. Every second that ticked by felt heavier, pulling him deeper into the urgency of the situation. The N109 Zone wasn’t just dangerous; it was a place where people vanished, a place where hope died. He had no time to waste, but rushing in blindly would be suicide. He needed a plan.

Stepping into the cold evening air, Xavier pulled the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, its crinkled edges soft from being handled. His eyes scanned over the contents carefully. Make and model—simple enough, not much help now. A detailed diagram of the shoe—useful for recognition, maybe, but not a lifeline. Then his eyes caught something else—a faint address printed near the top. It was partially worn, barely legible, but there.

His heart skipped a beat. An address? Could this be where the shoe was made? Or where it was sold? Either way, it was another piece of the puzzle, and right now, it was the closest thing to a breadcrumb trail he had. He squinted at the faded letters, trying to make out every detail.

If this address was in the N109 Zone, it could lead him right into the heart of the danger. But it could also lead him to you.

His mind raced. First, he needed to confirm the location. Then he needed a plan—something better than just walking straight into the N109 Zone and hoping for the best.

Pulling out his hunter’s watch, Xavier quickly scanned the address printed on the pamphlet. The small device whirred to life, its holographic screen flickering as it worked to process the faint, worn-out text. A soft ding echoed in the quiet street as it started searching for the location. Xavier watched the screen intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

The map on the watch blinked, the dot moving erratically across an unmarked, shadowy area. It drifted back and forth, as though even the advanced technology in his hands was confused, struggling to pin down an exact location. Xavier frowned, watching the dot jitter across the screen. His stomach tightened with frustration. Was the address too old? Was it leading him nowhere?

Just when he thought the device might give up entirely, the dot paused. The holographic screen flickered once more, and with a soft chime, it glowed green in confirmation. The hunter's watch had finally locked on to a spot. Xavier stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. The place it had marked was deep within N109 Zone, tucked away in the heart of the most dangerous, uncharted part of the city.

He exhaled slowly, his mind running through a million possibilities. The watch’s confirmation meant something tangible, something real—but what waited for him there? He couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a trap, a place where the trail might lead to nothing, or worse, to more danger than he could anticipate. But it was also the only clue he had to your whereabouts.

Xavier closed his hand around the watch, feeling its faint warmth through his fingers. He knew what he had to do, but the enormity of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a simple lead anymore—it was a beacon, calling him into the depths of the N109 Zone. And whatever waited for him there, he would face it.

Because finding you was all that mattered.

As Xavier made his way through the still, empty streets back to his apartment, the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a faint, orange glow across the sky. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. Gear, weapons,—he’d need everything ready before venturing into the N109 Zone.

But just as he turned the corner, his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. Xavier stopped, his brow furrowing as he fished the phone out of his pocket. It was a jarring sound—no one should be calling him at this early hour.

He glanced at the screen, squinting in confusion. The number was unknown, unfamiliar. His immediate thought was Captain Jenna—she was the only one who’d be up this early, possibly reaching out with new intel—but this wasn’t her number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Unknown number. His instincts screamed caution. In his line of work, random calls at odd hours rarely led to anything good. The number could belong to anyone—a lead, a warning, or worse, a trap.

But then again, it could be something important—something connected to you. He couldn't ignore the possibility.

Should he answer? The phone rang again, and with each buzz, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted to reach him badly enough to call at this ungodly hour.

With a deep breath, Xavier made a decision and swiped to answer the call. "Hello?" His voice was guarded, careful.

For a moment, all Xavier could hear was silence, a thick void that made his pulse quicken. Then, suddenly, the sound of crackling static filled his ears, distorting the line. He frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. The static grew louder, chaotic, until it was abruptly interrupted by a voice—scared, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

You kept running until your legs gave out, your breath ragged and chest burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not yet. An hour ago, you had been trapped, bound in your captor's suffocating bedroom, that thick invisible leash tightening around your neck with each passing day, stealing your hope, your strength. Every second felt like eternity in that room, but somehow, with some luck of a power outage of all things, you’d broken out of your cage. You’d ran—bolted into the cold night without looking back.

And now, you were almost free.

But “freedom” wasn’t what you had imagined. The streets stretched out before you, bleak and lifeless. It felt wrong. There was no joy in the air, no welcoming breeze to assure you of safety—only the gnawing sense that you had escaped one cage just to enter another. You recalled something Sylus, your captor, had mentioned in passing.

"Its always 'night' here", he'd said with a small smile, and now you truly realized he hadn’t been lying.

Darkness swallowed the entire area, a thick, unnatural veil over everything. Even though your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, the eerie, half-flickering streetlights cast only dim pools of sickly yellow across the cracked pavement. The shadows loomed, stretching too far, hiding too much. You shivered, not just from the cold but from the haunting silence that wrapped around you.

The air itself felt thick, as if it was suffocating under the weight of secrets too dark, too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Each alley you passed felt like it was watching you, whispering silent threats from the shadows. Exhaustion clung to your limbs, and you had finally stopped, collapsing onto a broken bench under one of the few flickering streetlights that still worked. The cold metal dug into your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, to steady your thoughts.

Where do you go now? You scanned your surroundings again, looking for anything that could offer direction, but the streets were as desolate as before. The same cracked pavement, the same looming shadows. No signs. No people. Just an eerie quiet.

A fleeting thought entered your mind—maybe there’s a train station nearby? The idea seemed almost laughable. Would it even take you to Linkon? And would you even make it to a station without getting caught?

You shook your head, mentally cursing yourself for the thought. Hitchhiking was another idea that crossed your mind—no way, you scolded yourself, brushing off the notion as quickly as it came. You probably couldn't trust anyone here. Not in a place like this. Here, trusting a stranger was as reckless as running blind into the dark.

But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay still for long; resting too much would make you an easy target. With a deep, shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stand again. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you kept moving, hoping—praying—you’d find someone who wasn’t out to harm you. Something that could help guide you out of this nightmare. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of fear pressing harder on your chest.

As your bare feet dragged across the cracked concrete, the desperation gnawed at you more fiercely. You were lost—physically and mentally. Each street looked the same, the darkness playing tricks on your eyes. Panic swelled in your throat. How long could you keep going like this? How much longer could you walk before your legs gave out? Before someone found you?

Your breaths came quicker, shallow with fear. You needed a way out, but the deeper you walked into the N109 Zone, the more it felt like the place was swallowing you whole. You were running out of time. Running out of hope.

And then finally, as if the cruel universe had decided to grant you another fleeting moment of mercy, you saw it—a faint glow of lights in the distance. Squinting, you could just make out a corner store, its soft, artificial light spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A few people were loitering outside, giving the place a rare sense of life. A tired-looking woman clutched her child's hand tightly, and a man stood by, lazily smoking a cigar, his eyes scanning the street in disinterest. A couple of others hovered nearby, exchanging quiet words under the dim streetlight.

You couldn't believe your eyes. A store? Here? In the N109 Zone? It seemed almost surreal, like it had been plucked from another world and dropped into this forgotten wasteland. But it made sense in a grim way. Even in a place like this, people have to eat. Make a living.

With a rush of desperate energy, you hurried toward the store, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The people outside cast looks in your direction, but don't say anything. You stopped just short of the entrance, glancing down at yourself for the first time. You must look insane. A nightgown hung loosely around your body, dirty and torn at the edges. No shoes. No socks. Your hair was tangled and wild from the running. The sight of yourself made you wince in embarrassment, but there was no time to care about that now.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by a dimly lit but surprisingly ordinary scene. The inside of the corner store looked like any other—aisles of candy, snacks, cheap knick knacks and toys stacked high. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous, shadowy streets just outside. But one sight caught your attention above all: the food.

Your stomach growled loudly, twisting with hunger. You hadn’t eaten since the chicken dinner Sylus had provided before your “outburst.” You hadn't been able to finish it, and now the exhaustion from running had made the hunger almost unbearable. Your mouth watered at the thought of eating, but there was one major problem—you had no gold.

Your heart sank as you stared at the rows of candy bars and instant noodles. How were you going to get anything?

Anxiously, you shuffled toward the front counter, your nerves jangling with every step. When you reached it, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the small bell. With trembling fingers, you tapped it.

A disheveled-looking man, his hair sticking out in uneven tufts, glanced up from behind the counter. He had been glued to his phone, and the interruption clearly annoyed him. His eyes landed on you, and for a brief second, he just stared, taking in your disarrayed appearance before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, dragging out the words as if the very act of speaking was a burden.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but your mind raced with too many conflicting emotions—fear, embarrassment, hunger. What could you even say?

"I've been kidnapped," you blurt out, your voice shaky and desperate. You opened your mouth to explain further, to tell him everything—how you had escaped, how you were on the run, how you needed help—but before you could get another word out, the man snorted.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said dismissively, leaning back on his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Who hasn't been kidnapped at least once around here?"

His casual tone hit you like a slap. The raw urgency in your voice was met with nothing but apathy. Your heart sank. He wasn’t going to take you seriously. You were just another story in a place like this, another desperate face with nowhere to go. You stood there, frozen, trying to comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to your situation.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the frustration welling up inside you. "Please, I'm serious. I just need—"

"Look," the man interrupted, cutting you off again, his eyes barely lifting from his phone. "You want something, buy it. Otherwise, move along. I’m not here for charity cases."

You glanced at the counter, the rows of candy, snacks, and drinks just inches away, knowing you had nothing to pay with. Desperation clawed at your insides. You were exhausted, starving, and running out of options.

"I don't have any gold... do you ha-have a phone?" you asked again, your voice trembling as you blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill. How could someone be so indifferent to the obvious suffering staring him in the face?

"Broken," he said flatly, still not bothering to look up from his phone. His disinterest was like a physical blow. "And… gold? What are you, some Linkcunt citizen?"

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Linkcunt citizen? The insult was harsh, dripping with disdain, and it sent a sudden wave of anger rushing through you.

"Yes, I’m from Linkon," you correct, the frustration and fear bubbling over into your voice. "What’s with the attitude? What did I do to you? I'm asking for help!"

He finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking.

"What did you do? Nothing. That’s the problem. Linkon folk come down here thinking they’re better than everyone, tossing around their fancy gold and expecting the world to hand them everything." He shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt.

"You want help? Then you’d better figure out how things work around here real fast, princess. No one's gonna hand you anything for free."

You felt your fists clench at his words, the anger mixing with a deeper sense of helplessness. You hadn’t asked to be here. You hadn’t asked for any of this. And yet, standing in this grimy corner store in the depths of the N109 Zone, it was clear that no one cared about your suffering. Not here. You weren’t in Linkon anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to calm down, swallowing the anger rising in your throat. Getting into a fight with this clerk wouldn’t help you, not now. But the bitterness of his words lingered, and you realized just how alone you truly were in this place.

Silently, you turned your back to the greasy man behind the counter, his words still echoing in your mind as you began to walk up and down the aisles. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion pulling at you. Your stomach growled, gnawing at your insides, reminding you just how long it had been since you'd eaten.

But something else gnawed at you too—something that made your skin crawl with discomfort. You hadn't changed your pad for hours, and now the sticky, damp feeling clung uncomfortably between your legs. The sudden realization hit you, a wave of disgust washing over you as you winced.

Swallowing hard, you glanced over toward the feminine hygiene aisle. Rows of necessities lined the shelves—pads, tampons, basic supplies—just out of reach. You stared at them, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't just food you needed now. You couldn’t go on like this.

But you had no credit cards. No way to purchase anything. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked back toward the front of the store, where the disinterested clerk sat, still engrossed in his phone. He wasn’t paying attention to you. He didn’t care. Nobody here did.

You felt a knot tighten in your throat as the harsh reality of the situation settled in. You had to steal. There was no other choice. You hated the thought of it—hated how low it made you feel—but survival wasn’t a matter of pride. Not here. Not now.

Your fingers trembled as you looked back at the shelves. You knew what you had to do.

The clerk still wasn’t paying attention, his face lit by the glow of his phone. His indifference might be your only saving grace. You could do this—quickly, quietly, and then you’d be gone.

With shaky hands you reach for a plastic bag that had fallen on the ground. The bag felt like a shield, something to hide the weight of what you were about to do. You didn’t think twice as you moved toward the feminine hygiene aisle, knowing you couldn’t walk any further in your current state. You reached for a pack of pads, your movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that it felt like the entire store could hear it.

Next, you hurried down the snack aisle, grabbing a few protein bars, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water, all of which disappeared into the bag as your pulse raced in your ears.

You glanced toward the counter, your body tense with anxiety. The clerk still hadn’t looked up, completely absorbed in his phone. The faint, unmistakable sound of pornography drifted from his speakers, making your stomach churn in disgust. You twisted your face, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

He was utterly oblivious to your frantic movements, his attention locked on the screen, but that didn't ease the gnawing sensation in your gut. Every step felt like you were tiptoeing across a minefield, a ticking clock counting down to disaster. Even though he wasn’t watching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was.

With the bag now heavy in your hands, you made your way toward the exit, each step carefully measured, your breath shallow as you fought to keep calm. The distance between you and the door seemed endless, as if every inch stretched into miles. But finally, your trembling hand closed around the cold metal of the handle.

Your heart raced as you crossed the threshold, bracing yourself for the inevitable—a shrill, deafening alarm that would shatter the silence and expose your crime to the world. You waited for it, your breath caught in your throat, ready to bolt at the first sound.

But nothing came.

No alarm. No piercing siren. The only thing you could hear was the frantic beating of your own heart as the door swung shut behind you with a quiet click.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, not daring to move. The cool night air brushed against your skin, grounding you in the eerie quiet. The world outside the store felt impossibly still. It took a few seconds for your brain to register that you had made it out—unseen, unheard.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down as you hurried past the few patrons lingering near the store. Their eyes followed your every step, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you, judging, curious. Did they happen to care, or did you just look that insane?

The woman with the child pulled her daughter closer as you passed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man smoking his cigar gave you a long, leering stare, as if trying to figure out what your story was. The others whispered quietly among themselves, but you couldn’t make out the words, nor did you want to. You kept walking, willing yourself to be invisible, but the tension in the air made your skin prickle.

Once you were a safe distance away from the store, you ducked down an empty alley, the shadows wrapping around you like a cloak. The world outside was still bleak, the flickering streetlights casting only the faintest glow, but here in the quiet, you finally had a moment to breathe.

You found a relatively clean spot, tucked behind an old dumpster, and set the bag down beside you. Your hands shook as you reached into the bag for the pack of pads. The discomfort and itch between your legs had grown unbearable, and the relief of changing, even in such a grim place, was something you couldn't put off any longer.

Quickly, you adjusted yourself, wincing at the feeling of the old pad peeling away. You worked fast, knowing you couldn’t linger here for long. Once you were done, you felt a small sense of relief—at least one problem had been solved.

Next, you pulled out the snacks. The hunger was still clawing at you, and the sight of the protein bars and chips made your stomach ache even more. Tearing into a protein bar, you ate quickly, barely tasting the food as you devoured it, desperate to fuel your exhausted body. The bottle of water came next, and you drank it down in large, gulping swallows.

For the first time since you had escaped, you felt a flicker of calm. It wasn’t much, and it wouldn’t last, but here in this dark corner, with food in your stomach and a small bit of comfort, you allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe.

But the quiet didn’t last. You knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. You had to get moving at some point or Sylus would find you. This place was unforgiving, and survival demanded more than just temporary refuge.

Tucking the remaining items back into the bag, you sigh in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. The streets were still empty. For now, you were alone. You had survived one more step in this nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

Some time passes and you can slowly feel yourself falling asleep against the dumpster.

As you crouched in the dim alley, trying to fight off exhaustion and gather your thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Slow, steady, and casual, accompanied by a faint, off-key whistling. You stiffened, instinctively pulling the bag closer to your chest.

The footsteps stopped just a few feet away, and then came the voice—low, cautious, but curious.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up warily, your eyes landing on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that fell just above his eyes. His clothes were worn—faded jeans and a jacket that had seen better days—but he didn’t look like the rough types you usually imagined when you thought of the N109 Zone. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you, a flicker of concern—or maybe something else—dancing behind them.

His face was hard to read. He had a slight stubble covering his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost tired appearance. His lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you—like he was curious, but also sizing you up. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made you wonder why he’d stopped to talk to you at all.

"Are you... lost?" he asked, stepping forward slowly, the whistling tune dying in the air. His voice was softer now, almost as if he was trying to be gentle, but his presence made the space around you feel even smaller.

"What happened to your arm?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to keep your gaze on him. You had honestly completely forgotten about the scar on you arm. As much as you wanted to explain, every instinct screamed to stay wary. This wasn’t a place where strangers helped out of kindness, and you knew better than to trust easily. But as exhausted and desperate as you were, you weren’t sure if you could afford to push away help, even from someone who might have their own agenda.

"I—I need help," you stammered, your voice shaky, barely managing to push the words past your tightening throat. Your body trembled, a mix of nerves and exhaustion leaving you on edge. You hugged the bag tighter to your chest, every muscle in your body tense. "But... don't come any closer just yet."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting, though he made no move forward. He stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets, the dim streetlight casting long shadows on his face. For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with tension as he watched you.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice calm and even, though the curiosity in his eyes never wavered. He tilted his head, taking in your ragged appearance with a deeper interest. "No problem. I’m not here to scare you. Just trying to figure out what you're doing out here all alone."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You needed help, but trust was a dangerous thing in a place like this. Still, you were running out of options. Your mind raced as you tried to decide what to say next.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you weighed the risks. Could you trust him? Telling the truth might make you vulnerable, but lying wouldn’t get you far either. You had to say something—anything—to explain why you were here.

"I was kidnapped," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, a tremor of fear running through you as you spoke. "I escaped… I don’t know where I am. I just need to get somewhere safe and rest so I can get home later."

The man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He studied you, eyes narrowing as if trying to assess whether or not you were telling the truth. His silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, making your heart pound faster in your chest.

"You’re serious?" he finally asked, his tone more subdued now, almost disbelieving but not dismissive. He took a small step back, showing that he wasn’t going to invade your space. "You really got away from someone?"

You nodded, the tension in your body still coiled tight, waiting for his reaction. You couldn't tell if he believed you, but you hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t press too hard or turn you away.

The man stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his posture softening just slightly.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but firm. "If you're telling the truth... then you’ve got bigger problems than just being lost."

He glanced around, checking the street behind him as if making sure no one else was nearby, then he looked back at you, his face more serious now. "You can’t stay out here. This place— the N109 Zone—it’s not somewhere you want to be wandering around alone, especially if someone’s looking for you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You already knew the N109 Zone was dangerous, but hearing it from him made it feel even more real.

"Look," he continued, his voice softening. "I’m not gonna hurt you. If you need help, I can take you somewhere safer. But you’ve gotta trust me, and you’ve gotta move quick. If they’re after you, it’s only a matter of time before they find you out here."

He waited, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to see if you’d accept his offer—or run.

You hesitated for a long moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of deceit. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but something about his demeanor made you feel that, for now, you didn’t have much of a choice. If he meant harm, he could’ve acted already. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded in return, offering nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "My place isn’t far. You can rest there, maybe clean up a bit. It’ll give you a few hours before you have to figure out what’s next."

You fell in step behind him, your bare feet quiet against the cracked pavement. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars. You hugged the bag closer to your chest, still tense but too tired to think about running. As you walked through the dim streets, a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"I'm surprised you stopped to help me," you finally said, your voice tentative. "Most people here…they wouldn’t have even looked twice."

He glanced back at you, barely breaking stride, and shrugged. "I’ve seen worse things in this place. Trust me, a girl lost in an alley isn't the strangest thing I’ve come across." His tone was casual, almost detached, as if this was just another day in the chaotic world of the N109 Zone.

His nonchalance unnerved you. Why was he so calm? Your anxiety spiked for a moment, thoughts racing. Maybe you had made the wrong choice. Maybe he had his own agenda, like everyone else in this place. But then again, he hadn’t tried to harm you. If he wanted to, he would've done so. You weighed your options, feeling the tug of paranoia, but exhaustion and desperation had their hold. You pushed the doubt aside. For now, you decided to trust him, even if only for a few hours.

As you walked in silence, the two of you eventually came across something you hadn’t expected to see: an old, grimy phone booth, its glass cracked but still intact, standing at the edge of a corner. A relic from another time, long since forgotten by most.

Your heart skipped a beat. A phone. You might be able to call Xavier.

"Do you have any… uh, quarters?" you asked, your voice tight with desperation. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now it seemed obvious. Linkon City had long left behind the need for such old currency—everything there was digital, clean, modern. But here, in the N109 Zone, where everything felt stuck in time, of course they still used quarters. It made sense in this broken-down world.

He stopped, watching you for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, hang on." He fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds, fishing around with a slight look of annoyance. After a bit of clattering, he pulled out a few quarters, handing them over to you without a word.

Your hands trembled as you took them. This could be your chance—your lifeline. You stepped inside the booth, hoping that the old machine would still work, and stared at the dirty receiver.

You stared at the old rotary dial for a moment, panic rising in your chest. You tried to remember how it worked as you slipped the coins in the slot. It had been so long since you’d read about one of these—everything in Linkon was sleek, touch-based, connected by the web. But here, in this forgotten part of the world, you were holding a piece of the past. The process felt foreign, archaic.

Your mind raced, desperately trying to recall Xavier’s number. What was it? You racked your brain, images of his scribbled phone number from messages, fragments of conversations, all blurred together. The numbers danced in your head as you tried to piece them together.

Your heart pounded louder, matching the beat of the seconds slipping away. You were running out of time. With a trembling hand, you began dialing the numbers, trying to focus on every movement, praying you’d gotten it right.

The dial clicked as it spun back after each number, the mechanical sound unnervingly slow. The receiver crackled in your ear as the phone began to ring.

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

The ringing felt endless, each second a heavier weight pressing on your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the receiver tight. The noise around you seemed to fade into the background as you waited, hoping, praying that on the other end of the line, he’d be there—ready to hear you, ready to help.

The phone rang again... and again.

Your breath caught in your throat, a prayer hanging on the edge of each ring.

"Hello?" A timid, cautious male voice came through the receiver, muffled by the crackling static, but it was unmistakable.

Relief crashed over you like a wave, and you nearly collapsed right there in the grimy phone booth, your knees buckling as the sound of Xavier's voice reached your ears. After everything—you finally had a connection to him. Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath shaky as you clutched the receiver tighter.

"Xavier!! Xavier, thank god!" you cried, your voice raw with desperation. "I don't even know where to start..."

But after your outburst, only silence greeted you. The line crackled, sputtering with age, the static drowning out whatever response might have come. Frustration surged through you as you gripped the receiver, shaking it in a vain attempt to clear the line. You banged the phone against the booth, biting back a sob as the interference persisted. This thing must be older than you thought. How could it fail you now?

Finally, the crackling stopped, leaving only a tense, quiet hum on the other end.

"Xavier? Is that you??" you asked, your voice trembling, barely holding back the panic. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing this fragile connection—this one thin lifeline.

The line crackled for a moment before Xavier’s voice came through, steady and calm, but with a layer of unmistakable relief.

"It’s you…," Xavier said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d been holding onto hope for so long that hearing your voice felt like a lifeline. "I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you okay? Where are you?"

The sound of his voice sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. You sob, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. He had been looking for you, and now, he was coming.

"Xavier…I was kidnapped," you sobbed, the words finally breaking free, the fear and terror of the last few days pouring out. "I escaped. I’m cold, hurt and scared..."

His response was immediate, his tone both calming and steady, as if he was trying to comfort you even from miles away. "I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? I’m coming for you. I just need a better idea of where you are."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together, but the tears threatened to spill over. "I don’t know where exactly… all I know is I’m in the N109 Zone. I found a phone booth near a corner store. Everything around here looks abandoned."

There was a brief pause on the other end as Xavier processed the information. "Alright," he said firmly. "Stay there, I'll try and track the location of the phone booth. I’m on my way. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I—" you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the man who had helped you. "I actually found a really nice man. He’s letting me rest at his place. He hasn’t hurt me at all, so don’t worry. He says his place isn’t far from here. I’ll come back to the phone and give you the details after I see it."

Xavier’s voice tightened slightly, the concern clear. "I don’t like the sound of that. Just… be careful. I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? If anything feels wrong, leave. Fight like hell if you need to."

"I will," you whispered, gripping the receiver tightly. "Just hurry, please."

"I promise I’m coming," Xavier said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He paused, just for a second, before continuing. "One more thing though—do you remember who took you? I’ll need a name, in case…in case I don't find you when I arrive. I don’t want to lose you again."

Your heart raced as memories of your captor flashed in your mind. "Yeah! His name is S—"

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for an additional 3 minutes," the automated voice cut in sharply, drowning out your words.

Panic surged through you. The call had abruptly ended, the receiver in your hand now silent except for the monotonous prompt asking for more coins. You frantically searched your pockets, but you had no more quarters.

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for—"

You screamed, the frustration boiling over as you kicked the phone, the clanging metal reverberating through the phone booth. Your hand gripped the receiver so tightly your knuckles lost circulation, and with a final surge of anger, you thrashed against the booth, the tears you’d been holding back now streaming down your face.

"Xavier!?" you yelled into the dead line, your voice cracking with desperation. He had to hear you. He had to. But all that came through was the cold, indifferent tone of the automated voice, endlessly repeating its demand for more quarters, as if mocking your panic.

You slammed the receiver down, the booth suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Every second that ticked by was a second lost, a moment Xavier might not know who had taken you, might not know how to find you.

With a deep, shaky breath, you stepped out of the booth, blinking away the tears.

"Do...you have any more quarters?" you ask, more tears threatening to spill from your face at any moment now.

The man outside the phone booth shifted awkwardly and shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and the dark street. He had watched you from the moment you’d rushed into the booth, but now, as you sobbed, his discomfort was clear. He took a slow step forward, clearing his throat, but didn’t say anything at first, unsure of what to do.

"You, uh... you okay?" he asked finally, his voice soft but uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing around as if he wasn’t used to being in such an emotional situation.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the tears kept coming. The overwhelming frustration of losing the connection with Xavier left you feeling exposed and helpless. You didn’t know what to say to the man, couldn’t find the words to explain the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

He hesitated, then sighed, taking another step closer. "Look, uh… if it’s about the call, I’m sure your guy’s coming. Sounds like he cares. You just... you know, gotta hang in there. We’ll get to my place soon, and you can rest."

His words, though clumsy, were an attempt at comfort. But even as he tried to reassure you, his uncertainty showed in the way he avoided your gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone breaking down in front of him.

You sniffed, nodding slightly, feeling drained from the outburst. "Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine," you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your nightgown, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

The two of you resumed walking, your steps slow and heavy as you sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that still threatened to spill. The man walked beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, glancing at you now and then with an awkwardness that was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally looking around as if he wished there was something more he could do, but he seemed completely out of his depth when it came to comforting anyone, let alone a woman on the verge of breaking down.

"You’ll, uh, feel better once we get there," he mumbled, his voice low and sheepish. "It’s not much, but at least you can get some sleep. Maybe eat something."

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought to compose yourself, trying not to let your emotions overwhelm you again. The air between you felt thick, filled with unspoken words and awkward tension. He kept glancing at you as if he wanted to say something more, but each time, he swallowed the words, guiding you quietly through the darkened streets.

The city around you was eerily quiet, the desolation of the N109 Zone even more pronounced in the silence. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated your path, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. You hugged your arms close to your body, your mind still reeling from the failed call, but you focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The man cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "I’m… not really good at this kind of thing, you know," he admitted, his tone awkward, almost apologetic. "But you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. His words were clumsy, but there was a strange sincerity in them. Despite his unease, it seemed like he really was trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how to do it.

As the silence stretched on, the weight of everything hanging between you, you glanced at him through the dim light. His awkwardness, his uncertainty—it was all so clear. But despite everything, he had helped you. He had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. Given you the last of his quarters. You swallowed, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"I didn’t catch your name, by the way," you said softly, your voice still a little shaky.

He blinked, as if surprised you’d asked. His steps slowed for a moment before he gave a small, awkward shrug. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t say." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground as he seemed to search for the right words. "It’s Reese," he finally muttered. "Not much of a name, but it’s mine."

You offered a small, tired smile, your voice soft. "Reese… thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—" You stopped yourself, the weight of your situation pressing on your chest again.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah, well… I’m no hero. Just didn’t seem right to leave you out there. Not in a place like this."

As the two of you walked in silence, Reese cleared his throat, glancing over at you with a bit more confidence than before. "So… what’s your name? Figured if we’re gonna be walking together, I should know who I’m helping."

You hesitated, your heart racing slightly. Trust wasn’t something you could afford so easily, not here, not now. Despite his awkward attempts to help, you weren’t ready to give him your real name. Better to be cautious, you reminded yourself. You forced a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It’s...Mephisto," you said, the lie rolling off your tongue before you could second-guess it. You had vaguely remembered Sylus calling out the name to someone from outside the door, to who you weren't sure. One of his men probably.

Reese nodded, seemingly taking your answer at face value, no suspicion in his expression. "Alright," he said, giving a half-smile. "Nice to meet you Miss Mephisto, despite the strange name."

You nodded back, feeling the weight of the lie settle inside you. It wasn’t much, but it gave you a small layer of protection—just in case. You still didn’t know Reese’s full intentions, and trust here could be a dangerous thing.

"Nice to meet you too, Reese," you replied softly, glancing around the darkened street.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the dark, desolate streets of the N109 Zone, you and Reese finally reached his place. The house stood at the end of a narrow alley, tucked between two crumbling, abandoned buildings. It wasn’t much to look at—dingy, with peeling paint and windows that seemed to have long lost their clarity. The front door sagged slightly on its hinges, the wood scuffed and weathered, as if it had seen better days a long time ago.

Reese unlocked the door with a bit of effort, pushing it open with a low creak. Inside, the air was stale but warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The place was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The furnishings were old, mismatched, and worn—a threadbare couch sat in the corner, covered in a faded blanket. The walls were bare except for a few crooked picture frames, and the carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Still, despite its grimy appearance, there was a strange sense of comfort to the place, like someone had lived here for a long time and had made it home in their own way.

"You can sit over there if you want," Reese said, motioning to the couch. "It’s not much, but it’s better than the streets."

You nodded, stepping inside cautiously. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details—the scuffed coffee table with a few empty bottles on it, the stack of old magazines piled up against one wall. It didn’t scream danger, but you couldn’t shake the wary feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Something about the whole situation made you uneasy. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the smell of old dust, or just the lingering doubt about trusting someone so easily in a place like this.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily on your body, and the promise of rest—any rest—was too tempting to ignore. You sat down on the couch, the worn cushions sinking under you, and pulled the bag of pads closer to your chest. Reese seemed harmless enough, but you reminded yourself to stay on guard. You weren’t out of danger yet.

Reese busied himself, tossing a few items around to clear space, but the house remained eerily quiet.

As you settled into the couch, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible, a sudden noise from the backyard broke the uneasy silence. It was faint, but distinct—a thud, followed by the faint sound of something shuffling or dragging. Your heart leapt, and you sat up a little straighter, your eyes darting toward the back of the house.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice tense as you turned to look at Reese.

He froze for a split second, the calm, awkward demeanor you’d come to expect from him faltering. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "It’s just… my dog. Yeah, he’s in the shed out back. I forgot to mention him earlier."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension spike in the room. There was something off about the way he said it, the quickness in his tone as if he were scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"Your dog?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady, though doubt gnawed at the back of your mind.

"Yeah," he said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "He’s old, doesn’t like people much, so I keep him out there. No big deal."

His words didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing his response, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The uneasy feeling from earlier returned, stronger this time, creeping up your spine.

"Right," you muttered, still watching him carefully, but you decided not to push further. Not yet.

"Um... coffee?" Reese blurted out suddenly, his voice still laced with that nervous edge. He offered a forced smile, clearly trying to redirect the tension hanging thick in the air. He rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the small, cluttered kitchen. "I could make us some. Might help, you know, after everything you’ve been through."

You hesitated, still on edge from the strange noise outside and his quick, jittery explanation. Something didn’t feel right, but you weren’t sure if pushing him now would help or only make things worse. You forced a smile of your own, your mind still racing with questions.

"Sure," you said quietly, your voice flat as you tried to calm your nerves. "Coffee sounds good."

Reese nodded, too eagerly, and moved toward the kitchen, fumbling with an old coffee pot. The clattering of cups and the rush of water filled the silence, but your mind was still focused on that noise outside. A dog in the shed? It seemed like a weak excuse, but you didn’t know him well enough to push it.

You leaned back into the couch, the worn fabric sinking beneath you as your eyes drifted toward the back door. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe Reese wasn’t telling you everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were exhausted, but you couldn't let your guard down.

Reese finished brewing the coffee after a few moments, bringing it over to you in a green, cracked mug. You took it from him with a polite smile, setting it down on the coffee table untouched. The steam curled up from the cup, filling the small room with the faint scent of stale coffee. Reese sat across from you, sipping from his own mug, but you couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed.

He kept glancing toward the window, then back at his watch, over and over. Each time, his face tensed a little more, as though he were expecting something—or someone. Your wariness only grew.

What is he looking for?

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, and your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the noise in the backyard wasn’t as innocent as he’d made it sound.

"So…uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert.

"Dog? What dog?" Reese said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question.

"You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and then you saw it—realization hit him like a brick. His eyes widened as he turned to look at you, panic flickering across his face.

You sat up straighter, your heart starting to race. He’d lied. And now he knew you knew.

"Uh, I mean—" he stammered, his voice shaky, "I meant, uh, Rex. Yeah, his name’s Rex. Sorry, I’m just… distracted." He forced a weak smile, but the panic was still there, clear as day. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room thickening with every second that passed after Reese's panicked slip. His eyes kept darting between you and the window, as if something outside demanded his attention. Your pulse quickened as the uneasy feeling deepened. Something wasn’t right, and you knew you had to get out of there.

"I should…go," you said, forcing a smile as you slowly stood up, trying to keep your voice casual. "Y'know... Xavier’s probably found the phone booth by now. I should go back and meet him."

Reese blinked, his expression tightening for a split second. The forced calm he'd been trying to maintain wavered as he set his mug down on the table a little too quickly, the clink of the ceramic against wood echoing in the silence. "Go? Already?" He scratched the back of his neck again, his voice strained. "I mean, it’s cold, and it’s not safe out there… Maybe you should wait a little longer."

You swallowed hard, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. Every instinct told you to get out, but you had to keep your cool. "Thanks for the coffee and everything, but I don’t want Xavier to worry," you replied, taking a step toward the door. "I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, remember?"

Reese stood up as well, his movements stiff, like he was trying to decide whether to stop you. His gaze flickered toward the window again, and his voice dropped. "Yeah, I get it. But, uh… maybe just a few more minutes. You don’t want to be out there alone, do you?"

You glanced toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface now felt like a solid weight pressing down on you. Something was very wrong, and you needed to leave—now.

"No, I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I need to go," you said, your voice steady despite the panic bubbling under the surface. You tried to move past Reese, your eyes focused on the door, your heart pounding with the hope of reaching it before things got worse.

But then Reese stepped in front of you, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. "No," he said flatly, his voice suddenly devoid of the awkwardness and sheepishness he’d shown before. His tone was cold, almost emotionless, as he closed the distance between you with startling speed.

Before you could react, you felt it—the cold press of metal against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body froze as the unmistakable sensation of a gun pressed hard into your skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His earlier nervousness was completely gone, replaced by something dark and dangerous. "Sit back down."

Your heart raced, your mind scrambling for a way out, but all you could feel was the sharp edge of fear coursing through you. You swallowed hard, trying not to move too quickly, knowing that with one wrong step, things could spiral even further out of control.

"Reese… please," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation—but his grip on the gun didn’t waver. "Just sit down, and no one has to get hurt."

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but for now, all you could do was comply and hope that Xavier was still coming for you.

"I promised them a girl..." Reese muttered, his voice trembling slightly, though the gun still pressed firmly against your neck as you looked up at him from the couch. He glanced away from you, his guilt briefly flickering in his eyes. "Then you just... happened to be there. Right place, wrong time, I guess. So...this is how it has to be."

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

"I’m sorry," he added, though there was no comfort in his apology—just a hollow attempt at easing his own conscience.

Your breath hitched as you tried to process his words, the full weight of the situation crushing down on you. He wasn’t just some awkward guy helping you out of kindness. He had been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill a promise. And you had walked right into it.

As you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your neck, the door creaked open. Another man stepped into the room. He was taller than Reese, with a thick, rough appearance—his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes swept the room, landing on you, taking in the situation with a detached indifference.

"Is this the girl you promised?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff, as if he’d been through this kind of scene too many times to be surprised by it. His gaze shifted briefly to Reese, then back to you, narrowing with interest.

You felt a chill run down your spine as his question hung in the air.

Reese didn’t move the gun from your neck, but you could feel the tension in his body shift as he glanced over at the man, clearly nervous about his arrival. "Yeah, this is her," Reese replied, his voice tight. "I just… need a few more minutes to get her to cooperate."

The other man stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor. His eyes raked over you, cold and calculating. "No time for that," he said flatly. "Get her in the basement. You know how this works, Reese."

Your pulse quickened, fear gripping you tighter as you looked from one man to the other, your mind spinning with panic. What were they planning? You needed to find a way out, and fast, before things escalated even further.

"You’re making a mistake," you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "Someone’s coming for me. If you don’t let me go, it’s going to get a lot worse for both of you."

As the weight of your words hung in the air, you weren’t even sure who you were referring to in that moment—Sylus, the man who had kidnapped you in the first place, or Xavier, the one coming to save you. Both names were tangled up in your desperation, your mind too frantic to distinguish between them. All you could do was hope that the threat would ring true, that it would be enough to make Reese think twice.

The taller man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We’ll see about that," he muttered, turning his back toward the door to pull up the carpet, leaving you alone with Reese and the gun still pressed to your neck. You watch as a metal trap door with a handle is revealed to have been hidden under the carpet and you gasp.

Instinct kicked in, and without thinking, you twisted suddenly, using the brief distraction in Reese’s hesitation to try and break free. You shoved his arm away with everything you had, knocking the gun off balance. For a moment, you thought you had a chance, adrenaline flooding your body as you fought with all the strength you could muster.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as you could. Your elbow connected with Reese's side, and he let out a sharp grunt, but his grip tightened. His face twisted in a mixture of frustration and fear, and he fought back, grabbing your arm and wrenching you toward him.

"Stop it!" Reese growled, struggling to maintain control, but you weren’t going down without a fight. You kicked at his legs, but his hold on you only grew stronger.

The door to the basement creaked open, and before you could react, the taller man reappeared, grabbing you by the other arm. His grip was like iron, and between the two of them, they overpowered you. Your heart pounded as you screamed and clawed, your feet scraping against the floor, but the force of their combined strength was too much.

"No! Please—" you gasped, trying to twist free, but they dragged you toward the open door.

The tall man grunted with effort as they forced you toward the dark, looming stairwell. "Get her down there already," he growled, his tone sharp and impatient.

You struggled even harder, but your muscles were weakening, the adrenaline starting to fade as fear took over. They shoved you roughly down the narrow staircase, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the damp wall. The dimness of the basement swallowed you whole, the air cold and musty. You could feel the fear wrapping around you, tighter with each step they forced you to take.

The taller man was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the cold, damp basement. You felt his rough hand grab the bottom of your nightgown, his fingers curling into the fabric. Panic surged through you as his cold hand snaked across your belly, the touch sending a shiver of disgust up your spine.

You screamed, thrashing wildly against his grip, but his strength overpowered you. The man leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Wouldn't hurt to try her out before the boss gets here..." His voice was thick with lust, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger that turned your stomach.

His hand slid lower, his fingers beginning to snake inside your underwear. You could feel his hard on pressed against your backside. Fear and revulsion took over, and you knew you had to do something—anything—to stop him.

Thinking fast, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, your voice desperate and shaking. "I'm bleeding! I'm on my period!"

The words seemed to stop him in his tracks. His hand paused, the twisted hunger in his eyes faltering for a moment as confusion flickered across his face.

"You’re what?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. His grip loosened just slightly, enough for you to take a sharp breath, your heart still racing.

"I’m on my period," you repeated, your voice trembling. "It’s—it’s bad. You don’t want to do this right now."

For a brief second, his disgusted expression told you that he was weighing his options. The thought of period blood clearly repulsed him, and his hand slowly pulled away from your underwear, his lips curling in frustration.

"You’re lucky," he growled, wiping his hand on his pants, his face twisted with disdain. "But don’t think that saves you."

His hand shot up before you could react, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you across the rough concrete floor toward the makeshift shower installed in the corner of the basement. Your scalp throbbed with each pull, the pain sharpening with every step, but you bit your lip, refusing to cry out.

He threw you against the cold, damp wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You barely had time to catch your breath before he twisted the rusty shower handle. Water burst from the nozzle, freezing and unforgiving.

“So filthy,” he sneered, standing over you as the icy water soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin. “Maybe this will help?"

The cold bit into your bones, and you hugged yourself, trembling, struggling to stay upright as the water pounded down. He stood there a moment longer, watching with twisted satisfaction, before finally turning away, leaving you shivering on the cold, wet floor of the basement.

Sobbing on the cold, unforgiving basement floor, you shiver, your body pressed against the damp concrete, each breath heavy with despair. The chill seeps into your skin, a numbing cold that echoes the hollow ache inside you. Your tears fall, silent and unnoticed, merging with the grime beneath you as exhaustion pulls you deeper into its grip. In the silence, a desperate wish slips through your mind for someone to save you—anyone, even him.

Though Sylus had stolen you away, his presence now haunts you like a ghost. In this unbearable solitude, even the memory of him feels like a twisted solace. You long for his shadow, for those red, gleaming eyes that once pierced through the darkness, and his stark white hair, a glimmer against the void.

At least he gave you warm baths.

The thought slips through your mind, shame twisting in your chest. How could you even think of Sylus now, when poor Xavier was likely out there, rushing to save you, unaware of the torment you’re enduring? Guilt coils around you, tightening with every heartbeat, yet you can’t shake the cruel comfort of that memory. Sylus, for all the wrong he had done, had never left you to freeze, never left you to shiver and break alone.

Your vision blurs as the weight of everything crushes you, and you can almost see him—an apparition of salvation in your mind. His image flickers, vivid and sharp, as your consciousness begins to fray at the edges. The world slips away, piece by piece, and the cold wraps tighter around you.

The cold water finally stops.

In this fading moment, you cling to that impossible hope, that he, with his red eyes and cold hands, might come for you—if only to save you from a fate worse than death.

[obvi-the-best-soph]

we're all bound to break. (chapter 1)

alexia putellas masterlist: here requests: here

based on this request: Hey! Got a request for a teen!fic with Barca women’s team (focus on Alexia, Mapi and Ingrid if possible). I’m a sucker for angst so would love an angsty storyline, maybe an injury or off pitch event or something!

word count: 2,375k

summary: your parents pass away 2 weeks before the champions league final, but you don't tell anyone, which of course has knock on effects.

genre: angst/hurt warnings: disordered eating, vomiting, death of parents, swearing, grief, drunk driver/car accident, alcohol, struggling alone, body dysmorphia.

chapter 2

a/n: this is my first full length fic i'm posting on here, so i hope you enjoy it. sorry if the spanish is bad, i tried lol. would love requests and feedback as this had taken me literally ages. thank youuu :)

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Ever since you were a little kid, 4 or 5, you had wanted to play for Barcelona. Your papá had taken you to nearly every game you could make it to, and you loved it. That was always a special time, just you, and papá, and football. That was how you liked it. You and papá. Of course, you loved your mamí too, more than anything, but she didn’t quite love football just as much as you, but she was always supportive and tried her best to understand. So when the contract came for the first team of Barcelona Femení, you couldn’t put pen to paper fast enough. And suddenly, papá wasn’t just coming to games to watch the team, but to watch his own pequeña princesa (little princess) play.

And you absolutely dominated too. At first, you were just another new signing for Barcelona, a young kid that would probably barely ever play and hardly ever get started, but you quickly squashed those assumptions, scoring a hattrick in your debut game, shocking Camp Nou into near silence. You celebrated every goal by making a heart with your hands over your eyes, looking through the gap, where your papá would be cheering and clapping for you. Everything you did, you did for your papá… sound familiar? Every award you had won was dedicated to him, every goal, every game, similar to your mentor and current roommate, Alexia Putellas. When you signed for Barcelona, you had needed somewhere to stay as you and your family lived just outside the city, and after Alexia had met you, she had immediately offered. So that’s where you lived, in an apartment with Alexia. And occasionally, her girlfriend Olga. 

But Alexia wasn’t the only person you’re close to, Mapi and Ingrid often hosting you for sleepovers on weekend or Friday nights. You loved Mapi, always interested in her tattoos and their stories, or the funny things she’d tell you about Alexia or Ingrid. And Ingrid was great too. 

You loved all the Barca girls really, the second you stepped foot in there, they welcomed, loved and accepted you. Especially Ona, who you had become really close to, and Lucy and Kiera were always funny when you tried to teach them Spanish. Lucy was pretty good, but Kiera could barely make her way through “¿Hola, cómo estás?” (Hello, how are you?) without stuttering or looking around for reassurance. She was teased for it a lot, but it was all in good fun. All in all, you loved it at Barcelona, and now anywhere with that team felt like home. 

This season, you have been killing it. Scoring at least one goal every game, often two. And now, you've made it to the Champions League final. 2 weeks before, you got the most devastating call of your life. 

“Is this Y/N L/N?”

“Si, who is this?”

“Uh hola, this is the Police Department of (your hometown), and we regret to inform you that both of your parents have been involved in a serious car accident, they were hit at high speed by a drunk driver. Unfortunately neither of them have survived the impact.”

The phone slipped from your hands, clattering to the floor. Everything went blurry, the tears clouding your vision, and your knees shook until you found yourself crumpled on the bathroom floor. Thankfully, Alexia and Olga had gone out for dinner that night, so you were home alone, otherwise you would’ve immediately had people at your side, and you couldn’t think of anything worse right now. 

So… what now? No more papá, no more mamí…

You didn’t know what to do. So you just sat on the kitchen floor, and cried. And cried. And cried some more. “Why did it have to be me? Why did it have to be my parents?” you thought, the stages of grief already hitting you hard. 

After another hour and a bit longer of crying, you retreated to your room. You curled up in your bed, staring off into space, thinking about all the little things you didn’t have anymore. No more hugs from mamí, no more of her cooking, no more one on one time with papá, no more childhood home to go back to, no doubt your Tia (aunt) would sell that the second her greedy, money-loving little mitts could, no more papá. No more mamí. The two people that kept your world spinning. 

You decided you weren’t going to tell any of the team about it, not yet. Maybe after the final. There were a few reasons you’d thought of, one; you didn’t want them to pity you and treat you differently, two; you didn’t want to make them worry over you anymore than they already, and three; you just couldn’t bear to actually voice the words. “My mamí and papá are dead.” It was too much, too painful. So, you just stayed silent.

You didn’t get out of bed or leave your room much anymore, unless it was for training or other football stuff. That made Alexia begin to worry, you were always happy, and cheerful and hyper and pestering the others. But now you seemed like a shell of the person you were, which was partly true. You didn’t enjoy life much anymore, you just barely managed to drag yourself out of bed each morning, no breakfast, training, then back home, and back to bed. Spending so much time in bed was something you thought to be ‘lazy’ or ‘slobbish’, although you still couldn’t manage to muster up enough energy or fucks to give to get out of it. So you began skipping meals. Not intentionally per say, but you certainly weren’t trying overly hard to eat either. 

And when you look in the mirror nowadays, in a strange, twisted way, you prefer what you saw. You look older, more mature like the other girls in the team, not the baby-faced 16 year old the public sees you to be. So you make even less effort to eat. You know you should, that an athlete starving themselves was like trying to drive a car on empty, but you simply can’t part with the new reflection you saw, the ‘beautiful’ and ‘mature’ one. 

Finally, the day of the final rolled around, and everyone was extremely hyped. The locker room was buzzing, music blasting, girls dancing around, and the atmosphere generally excited. But all you could feel was the emptiness of your stomach, the pounding in your head from the harsh drum beats of the music, the way the backs of your ankles had large red blisters from how your skin had thinned and now the bone rubbed right against the back of your cleats now, the overwhelming feeling of loneliness, knowing that neither of your parents were in the crowd. So you kept quiet, avoiding conversations unless they were completely necessary, slipping out of the locker room as soon as you had finished changing. 

You were starting today, playing up the front with Alexia. You two had become known for your chemistry on and off the pitch, goal scoring machines on it and best friends off it. Alexia had been insanely worried about you recently, living with you, she had obviously noticed your tendency to stay in bed and skip meals, she’d always push for you to eat, but you always passed it off with a “Sorry, I’m not feeling well, I think I’m just going to go to bed.” “Oh, no, gracias, I’m not hungry.”. 

You jogged onto the pitch behind Alexia, before joining the line facing out to the stadium while the National Anthems played, Alexia had her arms wrapped around my shoulders, and her firm grip and presence felt like it was just about the only thing holding you up in that moment. You refused to look at the place where your parents always sat, not being able to bear the sight of someone else sitting in their seats. 

The first whistle blew, and you played well for the first half, scoring a goal in the 26th minute after Alexia set you up for a header. You didn’t really know how to celebrate it, there was no point in doing your usual celebration, because there was no one to look through your heart hands at. You barely even smiled, letting the team just crowd around you with a group hug type thing before getting back to it. You scored again about 10 minutes into the second half, the equalizer, the score was now 2 all, but once again, you barely celebrated. Running on an empty stomach had meant that the game had drained most of your energy, and you weren’t really in the right frame of mind for playing anyway, stuffed full or starving. 

Now, it was the 89th minute, and still a draw, someone needs to score, and quick. You snapped yourself out of the hazy, barely-there headspace you’d been playing in previously. Now was not time for being floaty and sloppy, now was the time to focus. You yelled at Alexia profusely for the ball, 45 seconds on the clock. She made a shit pass, but you managed to recover it. There were 2 defenders on you, and you were barely past halfway with no support, but a quick glance at the clock and you had made up your mind.

You shot. From halfway out. It was a powerful shot, with the perfect curve and force. You watched as it flew through the air, the stadium silent, but the second the ball hit the back of the net, the noise was near unbearable. 20 seconds to go, you’d scored a hattrick, won Barcelona the final, scored from halfway out, and not even celebrated. 

3-2 to Barcelona.

The final whistle blew. All Barcelona goals had been scored by the 16 year old girl. The 16 year old girl that hadn’t eaten in 2 days, the 16 year old girl that had no family to her name but an aunt that never liked her, the 16 year old girl that had secretly been an orphan for 2 weeks, the 16 year old girl that didn’t even know what to feel anymore. 

This was your dream. Win the Champions League for Barcelona. It’d been your dream for as long as you could remember. But it didn’t mean anything now. Not without papá waving his silly flag from the stands, cheering louder than everyone else in the section, wearing your jersey, waiting with open arms when the sound of the last whistle rang through the stadium. 

You stumbled off the pitch, the exhaustion and lack of fuel to keep your body going hitting you all once. You felt weirdly light, your head spinning and vision blurry, steps uneven, like the ground was moving beneath you, like you weren’t really controlling your body.

Eventually, you got to the locker room, where there was thankfully a few sandwiches and some Powerades laying around from before the game. As much as you really, really, didn’t want to eat them, you knew you couldn’t pass out. Not now anyway. So you swallow the two sandwiches down, washing the bready taste away with the Powerade, trying hard not to think about all the carbs and calories in the meal.

You made your way back out to the pitch. But you didn’t go into the middle to celebrate with the other girls. You just plonked down a little way in from the sideline, just staring out at everything, the crowd, the girls, the losing team, the fans, the losing fans. It wasn’t like you at all. You were always in the action, partying and pestering, but now, you were intentionally avoiding it. You hid away in the dugout when you saw the team looking around for you. Their star player. “The goal scoring machine at 16”, as some fans had nicknamed you.

“Y/N? What are you doing chica? Come celebrate!” Alexia called at you from the sidelines, grinning, a slight confused furrow in her brows. 

Welp, hiding place blown you guess. You sigh and get up, painting a fake smile across your face and letting Alexia wrap her arm around your shoulder as she leads you back to where the rest of the team are, in the middle of the pitch.

“Y/N! Our little superestrella (superstar)!” Mapi yells, excitedly making her way towards you, the rest of the team rushing along behind her, wanting to celebrate you. Attention. The last thing you wanted right now, but you were being smothered in it. 

Eventually, the team retreated from the pitch, and into the locker rooms. That was okay, there was far too much alcohol and drunk women in there for you to be allowed in, being underage still. So you went home. Despite practically winning the Champions League for Barcelona, you just ordered an Uber and took yourself home, flicking Alexia a quick text to tell her you’d left.

You got back to the shared apartment and struggled your way through a shower before crashing into bed, and crying. Bawling. Sobbing. Shaking. At one point, screaming.

Over the past two weeks, you had gone through a lot of the stages of grief, but most recently, anger. 

Why? Why had it had to happen to them? What had they done so wrong that the universe needed to kill them? Why you? Why them? You couldn’t remember your last words to them either, so nowadays any time someone left, you made sure to say a real goodbye. 

You had passed out after around 2 hours of violent crying, having cried so hard at one point you’d had to lean over the bed to be sick in the wastebasket between your nightstand and the mattress. It felt good, as your mamí had always said, better out than in. It also made you feel a tiny bit better about the sandwiches earlier too.

It wasn’t until 10am the next day Alexia stumbled in the front door. She wasn’t drunk anymore, but looked insanely hungover. She cracked the door to your bedroom and looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“Superestrella, we need to talk. There’s something wrong, and you’re going to tell me what it is.”

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a/n: sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger! but i just want to see how well this goes before launching into a second part. feedback would be greatly appreciated, but of course please be kind! 

requests for a part 2 (or any other requests): here

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Honey Girl. Chapter Eleven.

previous chapter (10). series masterlist. the playlist.

chapter synopsis - There’s no denying it anymore - not that you’d want to. You and Bucky fit together in every sense of the word.

pairing - dads bestfriend!bucky barnes x female reader - soulmate au

warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol consumption. harassment, and then conversations surrounding past incidents of harassment. bucky calls reader a whore (not viciously).

word count - 5.3k

authors note - this is a long one!! I got a bit carried away with the smut, but honestly… it was a little overdue. I needed bucky and honey to get a little down and dirty sometime soon, and there’s no time like the present. as always - your love and support is invaluable to me, and i’d be nowhere without it. love you <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

masterlist. inbox.

Your hips sway gently to the music that plays as you watch your own reflection in the mirror. Sweeping a makeup brush across your cheeks, you laugh as Bucky presses open mouthed kisses to your bare shoulder.

“Getting ready takes ten times longer when you’re here, you know.”

Your soulmate laughs, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling your back into his chest as he sways with you.

“You love it,” he murmurs into your ear. “You got a lifetime of this, honey. Get used to it.”

“God help me,” you giggle, squealing as he pinches your side. “I’m never going to get anywhere on time ever again, am I?”

“Worth it though.”

He winks at you in the mirror, and you can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. Spinning in his arms, you lean up to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

“Luckily for you, Lacie is the worst person at being on time. I actually don’t think she’s been punctual to anything, ever. You have to tell her six if you want her to be there at eight.”

“I like her more every time you tell another story.”

“I feel like I should warn you.”

“Uh oh.”

You fight back the smile threatening to take over your face.

“She means well. She’s got a heart of gold, and good intentions always. She’s just… blunt, sometimes. She doesn’t mess around, or avoid the tough conversations. She’ll always tell you exactly how it is. And sometimes that can come across as rudeness, or that she’s a little… prickly? But she’s not, I promise.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I get it. And I trust your judgement, always. You’re a good judge of character - I’ve never doubted that. She loves you and she wants to protect you, and so do I. I think you’ll find we have a lot more in common than you think.”

“I hope so. This is kind of a huge deal for me. And the more I think about it, the more worried I get.”

“Worried about what, honey?”

Bucky leans back against your dresser, using his hands on your hips to keep you against his front. You tilt into his body, resting your head on his chest.

“That you won’t like each other, or something. Which is stupid, I know. But the two of you mean so much to me, and I can’t lose either of you, and I just…”

“You’re spiralling.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding, wrapping your arms around his middle.

“Yeah.”

“We’re gonna have a fun night, okay? If you put too much pressure on it, it’ll crumble under its own weight. Just breathe, baby. It’s dinner and drinks. Nothing you haven’t done before.”

“Dinner and drinks.”

“Exactly. Thankfully, actually, because I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving.”

“You know me so well.”

He chuckles as he leans down to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It ruins what was left of your lip gloss, but you don’t mind.

“It’s us against the world, remember? That includes double dates.”

You shake your head, scoffing as you break away to pull your shoes onto your feet. Taking a step back, you check your reflection in the mirror, not missing the way Bucky’s eyes follow the shape of your body all the way down and back up again.

“Quit that.”

“Quit what?”

“That, Barnes.”

“What, honey girl?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.”

You grab your purse and your jacket, giving him a once over to make sure he’s ready.

“We need to go. We actually should have left about ten minutes ago, but someone couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

“You want an encore?”

He lurches forward, fingers digging into your sides as you thrash in his hold. Your knees buckle as the tickling continues, punching at his biceps to get him to stop. You finally break away, panting as you keep him at arms length.

“Pull that shit again and I will kill you, James. You hear me?”

“I’m so scared,” he jokes, laughing infectiously.

You grin as you push him out of the door, shaking your head as you do it.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The restaurant Lacie has picked is perfect.

It’s a place the two of you have been to many times - intimate but not too quiet. It’s all candlelight and real wood and big, open windows. You can hear the sound of chatter and laughter from down the street, warm and inviting.

A wave of nostalgia overcomes you as you stand on the sidewalk and wait for your best friend. You spent your 21st birthday here with Lacie, getting drunk on sweet cherry cocktails and dipping pieces of fresh bread in olive oil to soak up the alcohol. The entire night consisted of giggling and gossiping, until you’d wobbled home in your high heels, hands tightly clasped together just like when you were kids. You both fell asleep tangled in Lacie’s pink ruffled bedsheets, cuddled up and wearing your old matching Looney Tunes pyjamas.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?” Bucky asks, swinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Just thinking about all the nights me and Lacie have spent here. We’d always order the Cocktail of the Day, no matter what it was. Sometimes it was the best thing we’d ever drank, sometimes it was so vile we’d down it in one to get it over with.”

He laughs all deep and hearty, the sound vibrating through you where you’re pressed into his side. You’re looking down the street when you hear a shout from the opposite direction.

“Is that my bestie and her soulmate I see? Looking hot as ever?”

“Yeah, baby!”

You start walking towards her voice, grinning as you go. She holds out her arms, bracing herself when you run into them.

Lacie hugs you like she hasn’t seen you in years - and honestly, it kind of feels like it. She squeezes you as tightly as she can, cutting off your oxygen supply. You don’t mind one bit, squeezing her back just as tightly.

You hook your chin over her shoulder to see Bucky and Cameron shaking each other’s hands, going through first meeting formalities. Breaking away from Lacie, you pull her soulmate into a friendly hug that he reciprocates eagerly.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” he smiles, linking his hand with Lacie’s as if he’s scared to be apart from her for too long.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” you repeat, leaning into the warmth of Bucky’s hand on the small of your back.

“It’s true, she has. Probably too much,” Lacie laughs, guiding you all to the hostess at the front door.

You’re seated outside, on the terrace with a gorgeous view of the coastline. It’s breezy but not windy, warm but not hot. It’s perfect. The sun is starting to begin its slow descent, and the orange glow lights up Bucky like he’s a heavenly being, some sort of celestial creature. It’s hard to read the drinks menu when all you want to do is stare at your soulmate for hours on end.

“Babe… shall we get a cocktail of the day?”

“You remembered!”

“Of course I did,” your best friend giggles, kicking your shin under the table. “Remember that one that was full of rose petals, and we kept accidentally eating them?”

“Or the one with the sour sugar on the rim? Must have been the most sour thing I’ve ever tried.”

“This isn’t filling me with hope,” Cameron chuckles, setting down his menu to put his trust in Lacie anyway.

The waitress brings over four pink cocktails in rocks glasses, popping straws in them when she reaches the table.

“Cherry and lemon,” she informs you. “It’s delicious.”

She’s right. It’s definitely one of the, if not the best cocktail you’ve ever had in this place - a million times better than the rose petal one. When you’ve all ordered your food, conversation turns to the elephant in the room. Soulmates.

“So you guys were strangers, right?” Bucky asks the two people across from you.

They both instantly light up, ecstatic to be able to tell their story.

“Complete strangers. We’d never met each other in our lives. I walked into the gym as usual, and there he was. All gorgeous and tanned and tattooed and muscled.”

They interlink their fingers, beaming at each other.

“I could see it all instantly,” Cameron takes over. “Living together, marriage, kids, the rest of our lives. It was like a vision, this prediction of what’s to come on a big screen in my mind.”

He leans in to kiss Lacie, all tender and so full of love. Anyone within a fifty mile radius can feel their connection.

“So, Lacie said you guys already knew each other?”

You knew this line of questioning would happen sooner or later, but you didn’t realise just how nervous it’d make you feel. Bucky senses your anxiety instantly, wrapping his fingers around yours under the table. His thumb rubs gentle circles into the back of your hand, the familiar and comforting motion calming you down easily.

“Uh, yeah. We’d known each other for a few years. He’s my dad’s best friend.”

“Oh, shit. I mean Lacie explained back when you told her, but that’s so… complicated. How did your parents take it?”

“We… don’t know,” Bucky explains. “We haven’t exactly had that conversation yet.”

“But you guys have been soulmates for like two years, right?”

“It’s been complicated, like you said,” you pick up. “I wasn’t home for a lot of it, I was back in California for work. And we tried to tell them, but my Dad got sick, and then it turns out that they actually already knew. So, maybe in hindsight, complicated is actually an understatement.”

Lacie laughs with nothing but love in her eyes, stepping on your foot affectionately in a gesture of solidarity.

“Told you they were complex, Cam.”

“A lot more complex than us, lovebug,” he chuckles.

“You hear that, baby?” Bucky leans over to whisper in your ear. “We’re complex.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” you whisper back, turning your head to press a kiss into his jaw.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

The food is divine.

It’s all small plates, Mediterranean inspired and delicious. Seafood, charred vegetables, beautiful mixes of herbs spices with everything doused in olive oil and balsamic.

“Holy shit. I don’t think I can eat for a week after this.”

“You gonna have to unbuckle that designer belt of yours, Cameron?”

You’re met with a cacophony of laughter and shaking heads.

“I like her,” he tells Lacie with a smile. “I see why you two work.”

“Aha, I’ve earned the Cameron seal of approval! Hear that, Lace? He likes me.”

“Oh god. My bestie and my soulmate are gonna be friends. There are so many embarrassing stories that are going to be shared, aren’t there?”

“So many,” you and Cameron say in unison.

Lacie’s shaking her head but she can’t stop laughing, buzzed off of the speciality cocktails and the joy of having her favourite people get along.

“Okay, okay, before we get into that,” she intervenes, “we’re having brunch with my sisters and their soulmates tomorrow. So I hate to be a buzzkill… but I’m gonna have to cut this short, before we pass the point of hungover beyond return.”

“Say hi to them for me, won’t you? I haven’t seen them in so long.”

“Laura’s getting married in a few months - I’ll make sure you two get an invite. They’d love to see you again soon, they both ask about you all the time.”

“Sounds perfect.”

You say your goodbyes, hugs and promises to see each other as soon as possible exchanged with love and excitement.

“I’m moving into Cameron’s place finally, and I’m gonna need your help decorating, babe. Will you come shopping with me sometime this week? I trust your taste.”

“Of course, Lace. I’d love to. Just text me, and we’ll arrange something.”

She presses a lipgloss stained kiss to your cheek, smelling like strawberries and giggles from your childhood.

“Bye, you two! So lovely to see you again, Bucky.”

“You too, Lacie. Good to see you guys, and good to finally meet you, Cam.”

“Cam,” Lacie whispers to you. “They’re besties already.”

You can’t help but laugh, waving them off with Bucky’s hand entangled with yours. After they’ve gone, you both sit back down at the table, exhaling.

“See? Wasn’t as bad as you thought, right?”

“I never thought it’d be bad,” you tease. “Just thought it’d be… intense. Which it was, but in a good way, I think.”

“You wanna have a drink just the two of us? Then we can go home, get into our pyjamas, rewatch an episode or two of Twin Peaks.”

“Sounds perfect,” you assure, standing up to press a quick kiss to his cheek before getting ready to make your way to the bar. “The usual, my love?”

“Surprise me, honey.”

You saunter inside, leaving Bucky sitting pretty on the balcony. The breeze gently blows the linen of his shirt, billowing the material and making him look like an angel.

“Can I get two old fashioneds when you get the chance? Thank you.”

The bartender nods her head at you, giving you a gentle smile before turning away to make your drinks. You take a seat on a stool, resting your feet in your heels for a moment.

“Excuse me?”

A pause.

“Excuse me, miss?”

A man slides into the stool next to you, tapping you on the shoulder to get your attention.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were talking to me.”

“I don’t usually do this, but I saw you across the room and just had to tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You spin around in your place to get a good look at the man who’s speaking. He’s only got a few inches of height on you, but he’s built stocky and strong, with a certain glimmer in his eyes that leaves a strange feeling in your stomach.

“Uh, thank you. That’s kind.”

You try to spin back around, but a clammy hand wraps itself around your forearm, effectively stopping you.

“You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry, sweet thing. Just wanted to talk a little more.”

His voice is dripping with condescension, terribly masking venom and ill intent. The whole situation feels tense and too charged, and you’re desperate to find a way out without upsetting him. You look over to the bartender, trying to catch her attention.

“So you’re here by yourself? Pretty girl like you, you shouldn’t be alone. You don’t know who’s around.”

Your heartbeat picks up, hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. You’re screaming to Bucky in your mind, begging for him to sense your unease as soon as possible. This man still has a grip on your arm, his other hand moving to rest on your thigh. A cold chill overcomes you, and you know it isn’t from the ocean breeze.

“I’m here with my boyfriend,” you choke out. “He’s waiting for me.”

“Really?” he asks, squeezing his grip tighter. “Where?”

“Right here.”

A familiar voice booms from behind you, rumbling through your bones. You exhale shakily, desperate to turn around but unable to.

“This your daddy, sweet thing?”

“He’s my boyfriend, actually.”

Your voice is shaking, and Bucky hates how vulnerable you sound. You feel the sharp pang of sadness stab through his chest momentarily.

“Take your hands off the lady, asshole. Now.”

When the man doesn’t move, Bucky steps in, plastering himself to your back.

“I won’t ask again,” he reiterates, tone deep and low.

The man seems to get the message, judging by the way he slowly backs away from you. The minute he’s far enough away, Bucky slips a hand under your hair to hold the back of your neck, pulling you into his body. You melt into him, resting your head on his chest and breathing him in.

“Oh, your old fashioneds! I’ll start them now. Sorry!” you hear from behind the bar.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Bucky says over your head to the bartender. “We’re gonna get going.”

You assume she nods, because Bucky pulls you gently off your stool, leading you towards the door.

“Come on, angel,” he murmurs into your temple. “Let’s go home.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky’s hand doesn’t leave yours the entire way back to his house.

You both spend more time at your place than you do at his, so it makes a nice change. You love being here, because it is so completely enveloped by Bucky.

You see him everywhere. His favourite soft grey blanket strewn across the back of the couch, his handmade green mug that you bought him in California left ready on the counter by the coffee machine, the weathered and worn blue plaid pyjama pants he loves folded on the bed.

You hear him everywhere. The trees that he planted in the backyard rustling in the breeze, the soft hum of the refrigerator that he fixed himself six months ago, the reruns of vintage shows that play on the TV when he knows you need some background noise.

You smell him everywhere. The lingering scent of his cologne on every surface, his favourite laundry detergent that clings to his comforter even after he’s slept in it time and time again, the salt from the breeze that billows through the house when he leaves the windows open.

You feel him everywhere. The indent of where his head has laid on his pillows, the fingerprint shaped divots in the arm of the couch where he rests his hand as he watches a movie, the light switch in the hallway that has worn away due to him always pressing it with his elbow when he walks through the front door.

He’s in all four corners of this house, plastered all over it north, south, east and west. His very being lives in the walls, the floors, the ceilings. His spirit has cemented itself into the foundations, down through the Earth that it’s built on.

You couldn’t love it more if you tried.

And now, you see glimpses of you. Your toothbrush and shampoo in the bathroom, your mug waiting ready at the coffee machine, the smear of nail polish you accidentally spilled on the coffee table one evening that won’t quite come off. Your pyjamas folded next to his on the bed, your shoes next to his at the door, your socks next to his in the top drawer.

Neither of your places are yours or his, now. They belong to the two of you. You refer to my apartment as our apartment. He refers to his house as our house. You’re not sure when it began, but it’s happening more and more as of late. It makes you happy beyond words.

Your place, his place… doesn’t matter. Home is wherever you’re together.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Bucky kneels in front of you where you sit on the edge of the bed, unbuckling your heels. He digs his thumbs into the bottom of your feet, releasing some of the tension firmly but carefully.

“You sure you’re okay, honey?”

“Yeah, Buck. I’m okay.”

You look down at him, caressing his stubbled cheek gently. He looks back up at you with those big blue eyes blown wide, so full of concern you can practically feel it buzzing around the room.

“If you wanna talk about it…”

“I know. I can talk to you about anything, baby. And I will, when I need to. Look… it was scary in the moment. But I also knew that you were on the terrace outside, and that you’d come and get me eventually. Plus, it’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

He takes a pause, still working his thumb into your soles.

“You deal with this stuff a lot?” he asks after a moment.

“Sometimes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. All girls do. You know that.”

“I do. It’s just… I don’t know. It’s different, when it’s the person you love the most in the world.”

“I get that. It’s not different for us, though.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, my love,” you whisper, tracing your fingertips across the features of his face. “You came along and saved me, so.”

“I would have come sooner, you know. I felt it in my chest pretty quick, but got stuck talking to a client of mine. I was inching away for so long before I had to just tell him to leave me alone.”

“It’s okay, we’re all okay. I don’t wanna focus on it. It’s done now.”

“Promise me you’ll talk to me anytime if you need to, though?”

“Promise,” you reassure, linking your pinky finger with his.

You both sit like that for a while, just thinking. You’re still tracing his face, following the beautiful lines and curves as if it’s a colouring book. Focusing on the warmth of his hands on you, you can’t help but let your mind wander to how he handled the guy at the bar. You’ve never seen him so assertive, almost threatening. And the more you think about it, the more you realise - you liked it. Obviously, the situation was unpleasant and far from ideal, but when you hone in on the way your soulmate swooped in to save you…

“What are you thinking about, pretty?” he asks, noticing the way your eyes have clouded over.

“Just the way you looked in that bar. All strong and domineering and in charge.”

“Yeah?”

There’s a dirty smirk making his way onto his handsome face, all mischievous and cunning.

“Yeah. You walked in and saved me like it was nothing. I felt so safe, with the hottest guy in the world protecting me.”

You dance your fingertips across Bucky’s face, tracing his bottom lip.

“I could have killed him,” he murmurs, nipping at the pad of your thumb. “Touching what’s mine.”

Oh. You’ve never heard him speak about you like this, but you’re glad you’re already sitting down - otherwise you’d be melting into a puddle on the ground.

“Mhmm? Yours?”

“You know you’re mine, angel. I have no doubts about that.”

The juxtaposition of it all is making your head spin. Bucky is knelt below you, looking up at you with his ocean blue eyes, but he’s still the one in charge. He’s the one making your knees buckle while his are digging into the carpet.

“I am yours,” you whisper.

“I know.”

His confidence is killing you. There’s sweat dripping down your back already, a bead of it slowly trickling down the curves of your spine. Your chest heaves as you refuse to break eye contact, desperately anticipating his next move.

“You like me like this, don’t you, honey? Sat at your feet, watching you, ready to do whatever you want. Do you even know how much power you hold? Do you even understand the things I would do for you?”

You might pass out if he keeps talking like this. To shut him up, you shove your thumb into his mouth, groaning when he laves over it with his tongue.

“I’ll give you anything,” he mumbles around your digit. “Just say the words.”

“Want you to fuck me,” you choke out.

“How?”

You press down on his tongue for a minute, taking a sick satisfaction in how his eyes water. There’s spit dripping down his chin and your wrist. It’s depraved. You want more.

“Like I’m yours.”

“Yeah?”

“Prove it. Show me. Make sure I don’t forget it.”

He bites down on your thumb before slipping it out of his mouth, licking a stripe from the bottom of it to the top.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he chuckles. “You don’t know what you’ve just asked for.”

He rises suddenly, pulling you off the bed by your arms so you’re standing in front of him. He takes your place at the edge of the mattress, and you realise that you never had the advantage you thought you did.

“Strip.”

You raise a brow at him, and the stormy look you receive in response makes you shut your mouth.

“I won’t ask again, angel. Strip.”

You go to reach for your hem when a hand darts out and catches yours.

“Ah ah ah. What’s the rush? Put on a show for me, baby. Come on.”

You slow right down, carefully undoing the zipper on your dress before gently pulling it up to underneath your chest. You don’t miss the way Bucky’s breath hitches at the sight of what you’ve had on underneath your outfit all night. You pull it up and over your head softly, standing in front of him in your lacy black underwear that you’ve been waiting to debut.

“Fuck, honey girl. Is that new?”

You only nod before stepping forward to stand in between his legs, smiling when his hands fly straight out to rest on your hips.

“You still want me to strip? Or shall I keep this on, let you enjoy it a little longer?”

“Keep it on,” he mumbles against your stomach, pressing kisses to any skin he can reach. “Wanna fuck you in it.”

“Where do you want me?”

“Everywhere.”

You laugh, leaning down to press your lips to his quickly.

“Come sit here,” he decides, patting his thighs.

You go to oblige but stop, pouting at Bucky where he looks up at you.

“What is it, baby?”

“This feels unfair,” you point at him. “You’re wearing all your clothes.”

“Which is the way it’ll stay, until I decide otherwise.”

With that he pulls you down into his lap, manoeuvring you so you’re sat with your legs spread apart by his, back pressed to his chest. You look straight ahead to see yourself in the full length mirror, with Bucky’s self satisfied expression behind you.

“Want you to see what I see,” he explains, running his fingers across your thighs in a featherlight touch. “You should see how pretty you look when you come.”

He cups you over your underwear, both of you groaning in unison.

“This is all for me? All mine?”

All you can do is nod, not trusting your voice anymore. Bucky hooks your panties to the side and runs a finger through your wetness, smothering it around and making a mess on purpose.

“I love you like this,” he murmurs into your ear. “All messy and careless and desperate for me. You’d do anything I asked. So good for me.”

He slides a finger into you, pulling it out swiftly and adding a second. There’s no resistance, only your warm, wet heat sucking him straight back in. You buck your hips, trying to get him to curl them how you like.

“Please,” you whine, squirming in his lap. “Please, Buck.”

He knows exactly what you need, crooking his fingers to hit that spot just right. He can play you like an instrument, plucking at your strings until you’re teetering on the edge in no time.

“Wait,” you plead, gripping his wrist. “Don’t wanna come yet.”

Bucky slows his movements to a halt, kissing your neck and catching your eyes in the mirror.

“No, baby? Why?”

You grab his hand and remove his fingers from you, sucking them into your mouth without breaking eye contact with him. When you’ve licked them clean, you lean back to murmur into his jaw.

“I wanna come on your cock.”

With a gentle kiss to his jaw, you add ever so politely,

“Please.”

Bucky’s never been one to deny you anything, and he’s not about to start now.

“Fuck, look at you. I’ve turned you into a whore.”

“You love it.”

He chuckles all deep and low, the sound rumbling through your body. Pushing you off his lap, you’re confused for a moment before he starts undressing, putting on a show of his own for you.

“C’mere,” he says finally, now fully naked and sat back in his original spot at the edge of the mattress. “Come and watch how pretty you look when you’re sitting on my cock.”

You settle back where you were, legs spread wide by his thick thighs. One of his arms is wrapped around your middle, keeping you firmly plastered to his chest as his other hand lands at the base of your throat.

“Okay, baby. S’all yours. Take what you need.”

His arrogance is doing nothing to soothe the ache between your legs, your arousal dripping through your pretty lace underwear. It’s ruined, but you couldn’t care less.

Lining him up and sinking down, you both groan at the sensation. He fills you up perfectly, almost as if you were made for each other. When you realise you were, your legs go jelly.

“Atta girl. Use me, baby. Fuck yourself, that’s it.”

You use his thighs as leverage, rising up onto your tiptoes to slam back down. Finding a steady rhythm, you feel a funny sense of pride at doing it yourself, at being the one to take you both apart.

Bucky’s praise doesn’t stop, the timbre of his voice in your ear like melted honey, all warm and golden. He presses kisses into your shoulders, your neck, your back, anywhere he can reach. When he can tell you’re getting tired, he starts canting his hips upwards when you come down. He knows he’s hit the right spot when you half collapse backwards into him, whining. His hands tighten their grip on your hip and your throat, keeping you upright.

Your soulmate directs your head back towards the mirror, forcing you to look at your fucked out reflection.

“Look at you,” he hums. “You look wrecked, baby. Such a fucking mess.”

“For you,” you slur, still willing your legs to do the work.

You’re so close you can taste it, and Bucky knows this. His hand that was on your hip migrates to between your legs, where he rubs slow but firm circles on your clit. Your knees buckle, and he knows you’re done for.

“Look at yourself,” he demands, keeping your head up with his grip on you. “Look how fucking pretty you look when you come.”

You watch yourself - the way your jaw drops open and your muscles tighten, back arching up and away. You then shift your gaze to Bucky’s reflection just in time to watch him finish. It’s the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen - his teeth sunken into your shoulder, sweat dripping down his chest, eyes blown so wide you can’t tell they’re blue anymore.

The two of you sit like that for a while, still connected in every sense of the word. You’re trying to catch your breath, every bone in your body completely relaxed. Bucky’s arms circle your middle, ensuring every inch of his skin is pressed to yours.

“Told you,” he mumbles into your jaw. “Prettiest sight in the fucking world, honey girl.”

You tilt your head up to look at the two of you, the way you fit together so perfectly.

Yeah, you think. Prettiest sight in the world.

tag list

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[werewolfaday]

Any good werewolf content? Like books or movies. I really love werewolves and I rarely see content of them online

oh gosh uh see i'm like in the same boat as you. it's very hard to find quality werewolf media that's not alpha male type smut or bad horror movies (though some of those are fun) or . teen wolf, which i have only watched a couple episodes of and cannot in good faith recommend

an american werewolf in london, ginger snaps, and dog soldiers are really good movies with very fun practical effects. one of my professors actually worked on the werewolves for dog soldiers! the howling is not a good movie but i kind of love it i can't lie. OH and you should watch the wolf man even though i don't love that movie; it's just really important to understand where the modern understanding of werewolves comes from! (edit: SOMEONE IN THE TAGS also mentioned van helsing and that movie sucks in such A Way but the werewolf designs ROCK!!!! all of the monster designs do. i have had a very specific vision of it where i make the main character a butch. maybe someday i'll draw that)

i have heard good things about the marvel miniseries werewolf by night but i haven't watched it. and if you do watch it pirate it bc fuck disney + marvel.

wolfwalkers is a really well-made and sweet animated movie i would solidly recommend to anyone. beautiful art style, great message, and a really fun interpretation of werewolves.

dungeon meshi has some fun lycanthrope stuff in some of the chapters!!

there's a comic i really love called "After Dark" (on Webtoon) and I have to admit I only have the time to see the creator's posts on instagram, which are snippets of the story. but I adore the art style and characters a lot. you can follow them on twitter here!

Night Class is another (mlm/werewolf) comic and I'll link its twitter here. Really dig the art style too!!

uhh but lemme recommend some of my favorite werewolf creators on tumblr too! because truly we are lacking in good lycan media and i would recommend more indie stuff to fill that niche in more interesting ways:

@gorgynei

@nataliedecorsair

@wolfskulljack-art

@senkkei

@piskikone

@kinerxy

@trashasaurusrex

@blackbackedjackal!

lastly i'm gonna link a pdf of my favorite medieval poem, Bisclavret!! it's about a king and his werewolf.

[areislol]

The morning after

►— pairings. genshin men x gn! creator! reader

►— warnings. some of the characters get clingy really quickly.

►— synopsis. albedo created a machine where it would bring back their creator, who was stuck in another world, back to where they belong. but instead of bringing you here to them, it brought them to where you were.

►— a/n. RAGGHH i was having so much trouble just trying to figure out the title 😭 i hope you guys enjoy this 🩷 I’m very sorry for the lack of action or if it’s simple.. next chapter will be more fun for you guys I hope 🙏🏻

►— wordcount. 4.2k

✧ part one | ✧ part two | ✧ part three | ✧ part four | ✧ part five | more tba.. NAVIGATION

recommended to listen to: needy - ariana grande or circles - post malone

The next morning, you awoke to Childe’s hand slapped over the side of your face, snoring quite loudly. Groaning, you pushed his hand away and yawned, opening your eyes groggily.

You managed to sit up on the bed and rubbed your eyes, looking around you could see multiple men standing around in your room, Thoma and Kazuha looking out your window, admiring the view, while the others were looking around your room and pointing at the unfamiliar objects lying about your floor and talking amongst one another about what it could be.

“Hey.. see that thing right there on the floor? Do you think that could be used to whack a Hilichurl?”

“… Itto I doubt something as small, petite and cute looking would be used to hit a Hilichurl..” Zhongli heaved a great sigh from Itto’s stupidity (he couldn’t say that though) and pinched his nose bridge from disappointment.

It was a pink, light wand with a red lollipop at the top with a lid covering it. It was candy… not a weapon you can use against Hilichurls.

You could feel your heart skip a beat because ?! Why were all of these guys in your room?! But after remembering what had happened last night, you calmed down.

Right.. that happened.

Suddenly, you felt Childe cling to your side, burying his head into your abdomen as his arms wrapped around your waist. “Mmm..”

You were too tired to even fuss about why he was being so close to you so you decided to just ignore him and his actions. While stretching your arms and yawning, everybody turned their head to look at you.

“Oh, uh.. good morning everybody?” You said, stopping mid-stretch, almost subconsciously shrinking from their gazes.

A collective “good morning” could be heard from everyone as Neuvillette and Cyno walked towards the edge of your bed and started to question if you slept well or not (you did because it was warm), complaining about how when they woke up they found Childe snuggling close to your side and being so clingy towards you.

(Why were they complaining? Easy answer, they were jealous is what. They would rather bury their heads in the sand than ever admit it.)

Nodding your head slowly, you smiled sheepishly and waved your hand at them. “It’s all good, don’t worry about Childe he’s just.. maybe he just likes to hug people?”

Cyno glared at Childe and let out a sigh before nodding his head. “Sure..”

Neuvillette offered his hand for you to take—giving you a gentle smile. “I’m glad you slept well, Y/n. Shall we prepare you breakfast?”

You took his hands and thought about his offer before nodding, offering him a grateful smile. “That would be nice.. but maybe once I’m done getting ready because I’m not sure if you guys are familiar with how things work.”

Neuvillette gave you a simple nod and once you hopped off the bed and let go of his hands you made your way to the bathroom, slipping on your slippers as Kaveh and Xiao with a few others followed you into your bathroom.

It wasn’t so different to theirs but it looked more.. modern for sure. “It looks so.. white and grey. Oh wow! What is this stuff on the wall..?”

Kaveh pointed to the strange object stuck on the wall. It was a toothbrush holder.

“Oh, that? That’s a toothbrush holder, it holds toothbrushes... I mainly use it for my friends if they ever come over.”

Kaveh and Gorou nod their head. “Strange, but unique. I like it!” You smiled at them before turning around and began to brush your teeth before washing your face, all the while they (Kaveh, Xiao, Kazuha and Kaeya) watched you do your thing.

It was a bit awkward, to tell the truth. While you were doing your morning routine they were either watching you or looking around your bathroom.

After finishing everything you needed to do in the bathroom, you bent down in front of the sink and opened the cabinet, grabbing a few packs of toothbrushes and ripping them open before handing them to Kaveh, Xiao, Kazuha and Kaeya.

“Here, use these. I’ll have to go out and buy the rest as well..” you sighed, thinking about how much it would cost.

Making sure they grabbed one, you helped him apply toothpaste on their toothbrush and left them to do their thing while you stepped out of the bathroom and groaned.

Sleeping with Childe and Xiao wasn’t a bad idea but they squeezed you tight through the night. Especially Childe, he just kept on clinging onto you and your arm was sort of sore.

As you stepped foot into your room, you realised that everybody was gone, they probably were in your living room, and you also realised that Thoma was making your bed. When he saw you just standing there eyeing him he smiled shyly.

“Y/n! I decided to make your bed.. as you noticed. How do you like it?” Thoma questioned, patting your pillow down before standing beside there looking like.. a maid.

You smiled at him nervously and thanked him, “well, you didn’t have to do that but thank you, it actually looks pretty nice and neat!”

There was no reason to lie, the bed looked nice and clean. Your sheets were tucked under your pillows and everything looked so smooth and clean.. he even put your plushies aside on the wall!!

You couldn’t help but smile even more as you noticed him leaving your plushies on your bed. But you were snapped out of your thoughts when Thoma then spoke.

“Would you like breakfast now?” You hummed and nodded your head and walked out of your room with Thoma trailing right behind you. And as you moved closer to your living room you could hear the chattering of everyone.

You didn’t know why but just hearing everybody talking and chuckling in your room made your body relax for some odd reason. It made you feel good, it felt as though the burdens were lifted from your shoulders, how weird.

As you made your way through your living room and into the kitchen, the others started to notice you and Thoma following behind you.

“Oh, Y/n! You’re finally here.” Heizou smiled, waving hello at you. You waved back at him and also included the others (even though they didn’t wave first.), smiling so tenderly and waving at them made their hearts flutter—feeling heat rushing to their cheeks.

“Mhm, I’ll make breakfast for you guys.. if there’s enough that is.” Everybody’s hearts nearly burst at your hospitality. Their creator.. offering to make them breakfast? Oh someone please catch them they might faint!

Aether jumped up from the couch and walked towards you and Thoma. “I’ll help!” He chirped, giving you and Thoma a warm smile to which you two returned. “Sure, thanks!”

As you three rummaged through the cabinets, trying to find anything to make breakfast—you eventually settled on pancakes (how did you have so many ingredients for 28 people? No clue.)

It was oddly comforting that you had people in your house let alone help you out with cooking. It felt nice nonetheless, to have company over, even if it was unexpected.

You let the others stare at your TV in awe, wondering what it was. “See that remote thing on the table? Yes, the one that’s black and has multiple colours on it, yup, press on the red one at the top left—yes! Good job, now uh watch whatever you want?”

You could hear the “oohs”’ and “aaahs” s of the men to which you chuckled softly. They acted like toddlers who just found something new in their life. It was adorable.

Breakfast was finally served after an hour or so, the voices of Itto and Childe could be heard thanking for breakfast being served now as they were starving.

“Oh finally!! I’ve been waiting for years for breakfast!” Childe groaned, almost drooling at the sight of the pancakes. “My stomach was growling so loudly..” Itto agreed.

“We could hear.” Could be heard from Dainsleif, Ayato and Capitano. They seemed to be fed up with him and his antics (so was everybody else.)

Everybody began to sit down in the most random spots, well, anywhere they could sit. Your table could only accompany only 8 people so the rest sat down near your coffee table in front of the TV and some eating at your desk.

They also made sure to sit away from people they didn’t want to sit next to. Diluc with the fatui (Capitano, Childe, Dottore and Pierro.), Wanderer from literally everyone else (he sat himself down in the corner like a little child), and Dainsleif from the archons—Zhongli and Venti.

It was a funny sight, to say the least, but, they had to do what they had to do, in this case—eat your pancakes.

As you and Thoma set down the plates and drizzled maple syrup on them, everybody said their thanks and picked up their utensils before digging in, some even moaning from how amazing it tasted.

“Enjoy your pancakes!” You happily said before standing behind the kitchen counter munching on your own pancakes beside Thoma. “Mhm.. it tastes so good! You and Aether are such good cooks!”

For Thoma hear you praise him and Aether made his cheeks flush red. He mumbled that it was “no problem” and quickly stuffed more pancakes into his mouth to hide his embarrassment, unbeknownst to the jealous glares coming from different directions of the room at him.

While you were still chewing and eating your pancakes, you were unaware of Ayato walking towards you and setting himself beside you.

“Y/n-“ Ayato began before you cut him off with a horrified yell. Turning to face Ayato you placed your hand on your chest and let out a sigh, everybody turned to look at you, their pancakes still half in their mouth as they stopped mid-eating.

“Ayato! You scared me..” you breathed, Ayato frowned and held his hand over his heart. “I didn’t mean to scare you, dear.. are you okay?”

You nodded your head and sighed. “It’s all good Ayato, I know you didn’t mean to.” You replied, giving him a reassuring smile to make sure he doesn’t feel bad, but he was already so.

“Did you need anything though? You must’ve come here for a reason..” Ayato nodded before averting eye contact with you, a noticeable pink blush appearing on his cheek.

He held his fist to his lips and cleared his throat. “Well.. this is embarrassing.. but I wanted to..” he stopped mid-sentence and looked back at you with a flustered face.

“Feed you.”

You stared at Ayato blankly, confused about whether or not you should be feeling happy or creeped out.. “wai- feed me?” Ayato nods. “Must I reiterate?”

Shaking your head “no” you looked down at your plate with pancakes, there was only a few left. Wanderer, Cyno, Dottore and Childe could feel their eyes twitching.

The sound of your fork clinking down onto the plate was heard and then your voice. “W-well.. I guess i don’t mind? I mean it’s a bit odd yes but why not? I haven’t been fed since I was a toddler.” You hummed.

Ayato’s lips curve upwards into a soft smile as he happily picked up your fork and stuck it in the cut pancake before placing his palm under your chin.

“Say aaaah~” You opened your mouth and said “aaaah” before chewing on the pancake, humming happily. Ayato slid the fork out of your mouth and smiled fondly at you. You were so adorable.

Thoma peeked his head out to look at Ayato feeding you, he was jealous. Why hadn’t he thought of feeling you before? It was too late now. The others stared at he fed you, suddenly a horde of men came running behind Ayato and chiming in, saying that they wanted to feed you too.

Goodness.. but it was fun to see them all fight to feed you, you had never gotten so much attention before so this was something and, to your shame, you enjoyed it.

Unfortunately, they could not take turns to feed you as that would be time consuming. They all went back to their spots and finished eating their food while sulking. After everyone had finished their food they set it inside your sink, Thoma offered to clean them and you thanked him.

You felt bad for Thoma just cleaning the dishes by himself but even when you offered to help him he shushed you with his finger pressed against your lips and told you it would be okay.

To even lay a finger on their grace without their consent was simply unforgiving. But for some reason being by your side made them so comfortable, as if you had been their friends since childhood. Was this the many affects you had on them?

After all of the dishes were washed and Thoma joined you all in the living room, you were sitting down on the couch sandwiched between Cyno and Al-haitham. Thoma noticed how majority of them looked tense and irritated, he eyed them down before seating himself down on the floor beside the others.

What Thoma had missed (somewhat as he could still hear the commotion from the other side) was everyone fighting to sit next to you. They were threatening each other and the taller and stronger men would be holding the smaller men, laughing at them.

Like how Capitano was holding Wanderer in his hand, chuckling as he found Wanderer spitting insults and threats at his face, funny. Which he did not like at all.

And in all honestly they could’ve started a war and use their powers if not for the fact that Childe had pointed out that Cyno and Al-haitham had sat themselves down by your side without them noticing.

Before anyone could’ve gotten hurt or broke anything in your house you calmed them down, telling them in a stern voice that if they broke anything you would never talk to them ever again, and it worked because they were all scared of that happening so they sat down obediently.

Wanderer and Lyney sat beside your legs and somewhat hugged them, almost scared that if they did you would scold them or find them creepy (they just wanted to be by your side).

“Hm.. what should we watch? Is there anything in particular you guys enjoy?” You hummed, skimming through Netflix, trying to find a movie for you guys to enjoy and bond over.

But there was a problem. Everybody had their preferences, some wanted horror while the others furiously shake their heads no. Some wanted rom-com but the others immediately shook their heads no.

“Oooh how about some action and adventure? Like Ant-man?” You said, pressing on the Ant-man movies as they read out the summary.

Everybody agreed on that movie and you weren’t sure if they agreed because you chose it or what.. they did choose it because you wanted it.

Not only that but it also sounded interesting. “Ant-man.. that sounds interesting! Why does he have to be an ant..? Why not a tiger or something?” Gorou questioned, looking up at you as he cocked his head to the side.

God.. he was so adorable!! Even if he didn’t mean to do the puppy-dog eyes, he still did them and he looked so squishable!

“Well I have no clue, but it sounds interesting doesn’t it? That’s why we should watch it!” The others surrounding you hummed in agreement. Standing up you walked towards the wall.

“Where are you going?”

“Turning off the lights to get into the mood.”

After turning off the lights Itto ooh’ed and got all giddy, to which wanderer gave the stank eye to him. You plopped down beside Cyno and Al-haitham and pressed the play button on the remote and set it down on the table in front of you.

During the movie there were tons of reactions, some were laughing from the comedic lines, some were nonchalant and unbothered by everything but they would sit up and lean forward a bit whenever the action would come on.

Some even teared up or straight out sobbed during the sad scenes (ahem you and Kaveh were crying and he just wanted to cling onto you crying but he was so far apart, Cyno and Al-haitham were unsure whether or not to comfort you but you weren’t in your sad feels just.. very emotional over the mother and daughter scene but they still pat you on your head and offered you tissues ahem ahem) while Xiao teared up a little bit but swiftly wiped it away before Zhongli could tease him.

Al-haitham, Dainsleif, Capitano, Pantalone and Diluc were nonchalant during the movie, only moving to get up to get more snacks. Lyney, Childe, Itto and Gorou were somewhat commenting on the movie and only got a smack from Dainsleif when they got loud.

Ayato, Kaeya, Kazuha and Freminet were all very invested in the story, plot and action. Even wincing and laughing when the characters did so too.

Baizhu was coughing every now and then with Neuvillette offering him water to drink to soothe his throat. Unfortunately many did not like how the dialogue would be interrupted by Baizhu’s coughing but before they could yell at him to shush, you would tell them to be quiet and that it wasn’t his fault—Baizhu was grateful for you and almost started to cough even more loudly from gratitude.

Aether, Heizou and Albedo were super into the action and fighting scenes. Occasionally scolding the characters in their head and planning what they would’ve done.

Venti asked you if you had any wine to offer him, you shook your head no telling him that you didn’t drink. Zhongli and Neuvillette’s urge to slap Venti was large but they thankfully restrained themselves.

Wriothesley was the only one that was watching everything going down, and always missing the part that was big in the plot. Reason why? He was watching you in awe of course, as your eyes widened and your mouth formed an “O” at an intense fighting scene or how you gasp or yelp at a jump scare.

But to tell the truth everybody was watching you like how Wriothesley was watching you.

And after one movie after another, you grabbed your phone and looked at the time, thinking you were going to see maybe 1 pm or somewhere in the afternoon, it read 8 pm.

“Already? How quick..” you mumbled under your breath, Cyno sneaked in a glance at your phone and realised it was already 8.

“Should we end the movies now? I mean I think everybody is getting a little tired now..” Cyno states, you peep your head forward and look at everybody on the floor and around you, they did seem sleepy.

“Mhm, okay, I’ll go get the guest bedroom ready and more mattresses.” You got up from the couch and began to get everything. “I’ll put everything away!” Thoma chimed in, standing up as well before putting everybody’s snacks and drinks away.

Cyno and Al-haitham got up, followed by Wanderer and Kaveh, and soon everybody got up, stretching their arms and yawning. “Geez, we watched for so long..” Childe mumbled, blinking his eyes tiredly at the TV.

Soon, Al-haitham began to walk towards your room hoping to find you there to which he did. “Y/n. Do you need any help?”

You turned around and smiled at Al-haitham sleepily. “Sure, I think I need a little help..” you mutter, holding the matter but higher to indicate you needed help with settling everything down.

Al-haitham nodded and walked towards you, grabbing the mattress and setting it down before grabbing the pillows and blanket, placing them on the mattress before glancing at you.

You seemed so tired after watching so many movies in the dark, it’s a wonder how you didn’t manage to fall asleep. Al-haitham sighs.

“Here, let me do everything okay? You get ready for bed and rest, alright?”

You glance up at him as he was much taller than you, you blink at him before furrowing your brows. “You sure? You don’t need any help at all?” Al-haitham shakes his head.

“Well alright then, thank you!” Smiling, you move towards your bathroom and as you stepped foot inside you closed the door shut.

While you were getting ready for bed, Al-haitham was making sure there were enough mattresses for everybody while keeping sure in mind that there was a guest bedroom as well.

You finished getting ready and opened the door, leaving the bathroom and found two mattresses down on the floor that could at least have two people on them. Al-haitham was truly kind and you wanted to reward him for doing something he didn’t have to do.

“You’re done? Well I finished everything so I’ll go call them to come inside. I’ll make sure they don’t make a fuss over who sleeps with you and sleeps on the floor.”

As Al-haitham was about to leave you grab ahold of his muscular arm. You didn’t expect it to be so muscular despite your eyes ogling at it since his release and arrival at your place.

“U-uhm, if you want.. since you’ve helped me how about you sleep in my bed? You don’t have to say yes! I just want to do something in return for you helping me.. I mean you really didn’t have to.”

Al-haitham stared down at you as you continued to hold onto his arm only to release your grip when you realise he wasn’t responding. “Oh, whoops my bad.”

You almost take his silence as a no when he speaks abruptly. “I.. thank you, I’ll take the offer, thank you again.” He replied softly, his eyes focused on you before averting eye contact and clearing his throat.

“I-I’ll Go get them now.” He mumbles, walking off into the living room to go grab them. You sighed and flopped down onto your neatly made bed.

All you were wearing was a tank top and shorts, it was what you normally wore and now that you were sharing a house with men it made you feel somewhat insecure, but still, the best thing in the world was feeling your bare skin touching the cold sheets.

You soon covered yourself with the covers and made yourself comfortable, grabbing one of your plushies and cuddling it, waiting for the men to come flooding in your room.

When are they going to com..

Just as you thought about them, they came through the door like a horde, all fighting over who was going to sleep next to you before Al-haitham stopped them from trampling over the mattresses with his hands like it was nothing.

“One at a time. And Y/n already said I was going to be sleeping next to her.” He said, almost in a smug tone like he was proud of you choosing him and decided to show it off.

“Okay and? There’s still one more slot!” Childe scoffed before Wanderer groaned. “Childe you literally slept with Y/n yesterday you ginger-“ “watch your mouth you purple mushroom head-“

Al-haitham sighed deeply and walked towards your bed, watching as you peeped your head to the side to see Childe and Wanderer yell insults at one another.

“Don’t mind those idiots.” Al-haitham states bluntly, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kazuha, Aether, Heizou and Ayato makes their way around everybody and begins to make themselves comfortable and take off a few of their article of clothings before lying down on the mattresses.

Finally, everybody sorted themselves out and figured out where they would sleep. With you blind choosing whoever would be the other people to sleep next to you which was Dainsleif.

Kaveh, Baizhu, Itto, Wanderer and the rest would be sleeping in the guest room much to their sadness. While Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, Ayato, Zhongli, and all that weren’t sleeping in the guest bedroom made their way to each mattress.

Everybody settled themselves on the mattresses and some even turned on the fan as they complained about it being too “hot”.

Dainsleif climbed onto the bed and took off his cape and a few other things. Al-haitham removed the covers and covered himself with the blanket.

You glanced over at Dainsleif and raised your brows. “I don’t want to be rude but aren’t you going to take off your mask?”

Dainsleif looks over at you before smiling softly, “well of course, I’ll remove it later on don’t worry. Just try and get some rest okay?” You hummed and sank down into the bed, sighing in content from being surrounded by the warmth of two very handsome men.

It’s silent and dark with only the sound of the softly humming fan. Everybody was awake and you knew it. You could hear the soft breathing of Al-haitham and Dainsleif coming from both sides of you. Soon, a thought and realisation pops in your mind.

“Wait, you guys didn’t go shower yet.. right?”

“…. Yeah..”

You sighed, knowing that you would probably have to go shopping tomorrow for clothes and sanitary products aaaand probably go broke.

> ✧ part three

note: THIS TOOK ME LIKE A COUPLE HOURS TO WRITE?? ALSO SPARE ME WITH ANYTHING RELATED TO GRAMMAR AND SPELLING I PROOF READ IT BUT AT THE SAME TIME I WAS TIRED SO.. ALSO. Im glad that you guys are enjoying this series so much 😭😭 honestly didn’t expect so many liking this so thank you guys so much!! I hope I continue to reach your expectations.

(also guys drop some suggestions or scenarios in my inbox that I could possibly add to the next chapters!)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchijii @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @goldenglow149 @rhwm @urlocalheizousimp @hex-vx @saltylovetale @backintomykpopphaseagain @toramune @oreo-ren @serenity-loves-red @flooofity @minteasketches @amaizverydum @lovelive-animequeen1029 @roseapov @yuraasia @chellazhef @fulldoves @kateybuggi @wanderingconstellations (if the usernames aren’t highlighted that’s because I can’t tag you so I’ll dm you when I post a new chapter!)

if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few

liking + following + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[the-paranomaly-hotline]

A project in the works.

Hi, this is Atari! We are the Paranomaly Hotline (like paranormal and anomaly, cool right?!?), we help people when they deal with places or creatures (or even people) that aren't exactly...normal, for lack of a better vocabulary. There's several of us, but I'm the main one who'll be taking calls!

Have a good day, and I hope you guys have no need to call us!

(Oh, our sign offs! Here they are below!)

📝 -Atari (it/they/mem/crys, tolerates she/her) 💫 -Rune (hex/mystic/xey/they) ✈️ -Ev (he/it/ball/nine) [mostly a bit, wont really appear in the story] 🔅 -Moss (he/her) 💠 -Whip (she/her or they/them) 🍀 -Clover (he/him) 🎀 -Milo (he/him) 🎈 -Piper (she/he/they/it)

I'm still gonna keep posting the actual project on my main (@s0lar-ch3ri), but if you wanted to talk to the characters or something, well, here!

If you wanted to see updates about this little story project, just follow the #Paranormal Callings (And How We Got You Out) on my main. Out of characters, I use he/her/it/sol! Uh, yeah bye bye lol

oh also any ooc things are gonna be tagged "#paranomal shutdown"

for my reblogs of the written out chapters, check "#written entity handling"

for my reblogs of the drawn out chapters, check "#drawn entity handling"

the story will always be tagged "#Paranormal Callings (And How We Got You Out)"

because it is a hastel to tag all the posts, any non-actual story (like random office things or whatever) are gonna just be tagged "#backstage of the hotline"

if i give a lil detail about the hotline or whatever, itll go under #fun ph factoids

new characters coming as i work on this lol (maybe tags too idrk)

so fun thing, asks with little things can be for any fandom and shit, and theyll have their own side plotline things (not canon to the main story, but canon somewhere) so yeah!

finished side story things will get put in the pinned to look thro later :3

#cat-otic demons - An anon called in, talking about a peculiar demon who's been talking to their cat, Toothpaste.

#wooded elks - An anon called in about a mysterious elk who had been watching them in the woods.

#demonic possibility - Mysterious shop owners who might be a bit more then human!

CHARACTER TAGS BECAUSE I CAN:

#mossed up posting - moss

#gathering magics of runes - rune

#ataris time shining - atari

#whips up - whip

#interning piper! -piper

#newer friends to organize - for when i make new guys for this shit and just am too lazy to make a new tag for em

[hotshotsxyz]

“You know me better than anyone. You always have.” for the prompts if it sparks!

(buddie) (788 words) i still have so many of these prompts left lmao, hope you like this one!

“I’m fine,” Buck says, and to his genuine surprise, he really means it.

Eddie raises an eyebrow. Rude, but fair. “You’re fine,” he echoes, flat and disbelieving.

Buck shrugs. “Yeah, man, I don’t know what to tell you.”

Eddie blinks a few times. “Is this what denial looks like? I think this might be what denial looks like.”

“Denial is a river in Egypt,” Buck replies cheerfully.

Eddie snorts. “I don’t think that’s how that saying goes.”

“Maybe not,” Buck allows. “Still fine, though.”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie says.

“I am!” Buck protests. “I’ll prove it. Ask me what happened.”

Eddie heaves a sigh and stands. “I’m getting a beer. Do you want a beer?”

“I mean, yeah, but not if it's a pity beer,” Buck calls after him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Eddie tosses over his shoulder.

He comes back with a bottle of Buck’s favorite sour, which is ridiculous because the only place that sells it is a full thirty minutes farther than the closest grocery store. It’s absolutely a pity beer.

“Eddie!” Buck exclaims.

He feigns innocence. “I already had it!”

Buck narrows his eyes and takes the bottle from Eddie. “I’m choosing to believe you, but only because I really don’t want one of your godawful IPAs.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and settles back on the couch beside him. “If that’s what it takes,” he says.

“You’re supposed to be nice to me,” Buck says accusingly.

“I am nice to you,” Eddie says. He leans his head against the back of the couch and rolls it lazily to the side to look at Buck directly. “I’ll be nicer if you can find an adjective other that ‘fine’ to describe your current state of being.”

Buck blows a soft breath out through his nose. “I’m good, Eds, I promise.”

“I just—you were more broken up about Natalia,” Eddie says softly. “Why are you so okay with this?”

And that—that is the sixty-four thousand dollar question, isn’t it? Because Buck is fine. He’s not emotionless, but nothing he’s feeling is particularly painful or consuming. Being with Tommy was good and fun and nice, but breaking up with him didn’t feel like some terrible ending. It felt like finishing a chapter in a book that you can’t put down and staying up late because you just can’t wait to start the next one. He’s never really felt like that before.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I just am. You know me better than anyone. You always have. Why don’t you tell me?”

Eddie huffs a soft laugh. “Contrary to the beliefs of our friends and coworkers, I can’t actually read your mind, Buck.”

“I don’t know,” Buck teases, “I think you probably could if you tried.”

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Think of a number between one and ten.”

Eleven, Buck thinks, just to be an asshole. He grins at Eddie, who stares at him in mock concentration.

Eddie narrows his eyes. “Stop cheating,” he says.

Buck bursts out laughing. “See? Knew you were a little bit psychic.”

“More like fluent in Buck,” Eddie snarks back.

He feels soft and loose, and it hits him that this is what he’d never quite had with Tommy. They were never as in sync as he is with Eddie. He’s never felt so comfortable, so known as he does when he’s here. It’s an impossibly high bar to hold a partner to, but—

Buck’s jaw drops.

Eddie’s expression shifts to vaguely concerned confusion. “What?”

“Nothing,” Buck says quickly.

Eddie fixes him with an unimpressed look.

“I just, uh—” Buck stalls, frantically searching for words that haven’t quite coalesced yet in his mind. “Um. I think I—”

Eddie sits up a little straighter. “Buck,” he says, soft and worried. “It’s just me.”

It’s just Eddie. Eddie who knows him. Eddie who sees him. Eddie who makes fun of him and trusts him and treasures the little pieces of him he’s handed over throughout the years. It’s just Eddie.

It’s Eddie, and all at once Buck is realizing that it’s never going to be anyone else.

“I, uh—” Buck tries again. “I have to—I forgot to feed my neighbor’s cat,” he lies, standing so quickly that he bumps the coffee table and nearly knocks over Eddie’s mostly full beer.

Eddie’s brow creases. “Okay,” he says quietly, and Buck doesn’t think for a second he believes him.

“I’m just gonna—I’ll see you tomorrow?” Buck asks desperately.

“Course,” Eddie says.

“Thanks for the—bye!” Buck squeaks.

He hightails it out the door and throws himself behind the wheel of his Jeep. Of course he isn’t upset about Tommy. How could he be?

He’s been in love with Eddie the whole fucking time.

[pirateprincessblog]

moan for me

NEW! Check out the full ongoing version on Wattpad!

𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔:

One

Two

Three

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: you decide you don't want to end your friendship because of a casual fuck. he agrees. just why is he then eye-fucking you across the room and bumping into you accidentally? 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: park seonghwa x f!reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: dilf!seonghwa, bestfriend!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: hair pulling, dacryphilia, public sex, cream pie, ddlg, public oral (female receiving), voyeurism, breathplay/choking, hickeys, bruising

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: choking?, swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: officially, i am ready to get dicked down in a gown by park seonghwa

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

mr park: forgive me for doing it this way, but i would like to cancel the date. it is not the brightest idea, i was carried away by the emotions at the moment. let us close this chapter, as fun as it was. i am not looking for further interactions such as the ones we had, and i am most certainly not looking for a relationship. sorry for giving you the wrong idea. take care.

your heart drops. hidden by the curtain in the changing room, you allow yourself to sit down and drop a few tears. fuck, you were having such a good time. such a handsome, skilled, jaw dropping gorgeous man, just slipped from your grip, and there's nothing you can do about it. you crave his existence, you wish to look at him and touch him day and night. as creepy as it sounds.

the sixth dress you've tried on for the dance is already is itchy against your skin, and you sigh. the bright green isn't flattering on you at all. your friend has already picked the dress, lucky her. your budget wasn't exactly big, so finding something pretty and inside the budget was hard.

"oh, hi dad."

you freeze.

"hello, love."

even his voice is pure honey.

"how is the shopping going?"

"well, i bought mine. i'm just waiting for my bestie to finish trying on."

park seonghwa stays silent. the realization of you being here near him just moments after him ditching you put him in an awkward situation.

"hey, you good in there?" she calls, putting her head between the curtains.

"yup. i'll be right out." you stop to think, making your friend raise her eyebrow questionably. "actually, you go with your dad. i'll check a few more of those sale dresses and head home."

"sale dresses? but the blue one looked like a dream on you! you're still thinking?"

"it's a tad bit out of my budget." you confess, already annoyed at her lack of understanding that you are just not as wealthy as she is.

"oh, why didn't you say so? dad!"

"what the fuck are you doing?!"

"dad, can i get this dress for her? i know you made me block my card because i went crazy at prada yesterday, but i could really use it right now."

hearing her casually mention prada like it was mcdonalds made you a little irritated.

"no, honey. sorry. it's not a really good idea."

"but, but, you didn't even hear the price yet-"

"it doesn't matter. no more spending for this month. be happy i let you get your own dress. you have hundreds at home that are just piling up at the bottom of the closet."

"aren't we, like, super rich? what's another thousand euros for you?"

you are way too embarrassed to leave the changing room, so you stay inside in hopes they'll forget about you and just leave. you glance at the expensive dress that hangs on the wall. it's a pretty royal blue, with a thin sparkly belt on the waist and sparkly straps. it's a minimum, but makes the dress stand out.

"no, i am super rich. you are not exactly. come on, now. get your bags and get into the car. ask your friend if she wants a ride."

"uh, no." your voice is raspy, and you clear your throat. "no, thank you. i am fine."

"very well. let's go then."

you hear paper bags shuffling, then quick footsteps and the doors opening.

"sorry about my dick dad. i don't know what has gotten into him." your friend apologizes.

"you have nothing to apologize for. i didn't even expect him to do something like that, are you out of your mind?"

"oh, what's another thousand for him? he probably made a few just while having that conversation with me. he's just being an asshole."

"car. now."

your squeeze your thighs together, the stern voice coming from the man doing wonders inside your stomach.

"ugh, i'm coming!" the girl stomps after him, leaving you alone in silence.

the green dress it is then.

the day is long and exhausting. considering that you arrived to the shop with the help of your friend's chauffeur, coming back home on foot was one hell of a task. you felt like the paper bag was carrying you, instead of you carrying it. your feet burn from the walking, and you can't wait to wash the sweat and humiliation off of you. you went from a thousand euro royal dream to a fifty euro eco trash bag. at least you have that dollar store green eye shadow you can use with it. how funny.

hot water drips down your body, fogging up the glass and trapping you in your little imagination bubble. your clit is begging for attention, reminding you of all the ways park seonghwa has touched you. his fingers skillfully rub your tense bud in ways that have you wondering if any of it is real. before you know it, you're clawing at the wet tiles as your other hand tries to desperately find the good spot inside of you. he finds so easily, why can't you? your fingers can't be much shorter than his.

half an hour of chasing an orgasm later, you give up. you've spent enough water, and your parents are going to kill you when they see the bill at the end of the month. it's all park seonghwa's fault. you can just mail him the bill and demand to pay. if you weren't so busy touching yourself to the thoughts of him, that wouldn't have happened.

defeated, you exit your room, somehow feeling more tired. you stop in your tracks. a black box sits on your bed, a yellow circle logo proudly shining on it.

"what the fuck?"

you reach for the box, touching the letters underneath the symbol. you don't open it yet, just in case this belongs to someone else.

"mom?!"

"yes?!"

"what is a versace doing in my room?"

"ah, your friend's chauffeur brought it over. said it was exclusively for you! bastard wouldn't let me peek."

that's all it takes for you to dive into the box like it was a new spicy book delivery. you make sure to leave the box intact, not wanting to rip something from such a luxury brand. a blood red gown sits in your hands, plush-like fabric melting down your fingers. it feels so luxurious, and expensive. it looks like something out of met gala, like it was ripped off of blake lively and given to you.

your phone pings, interrupting you from your little daydream session.

mr park: i think the blue is too calm for you. you need something fierce for a change. sorry if i overstepped. i just saw it when driving home and had to go back for it. not a word to my daughter.

you really didn't have to, sir.

mr park: i wanted to. you'll look lovely in it. and, please, have mercy and don't look at me tonight. i am a weak man.

your breath hitches. god, is he serious? just how fierce was this dress?

before you can examine it any further, the doors of your room opens, the familiar girl barging in with her little travel bag full of makeup and hair gadgets.

"whoa, slow down."

"no slowing, there's only three hours left until dad sends the chauffeur for us. god, what is that?"

"oh, it's uh-"

"vintage versace?! oh. my. god." she immediatelly pulls it out of the box, letting the empty carton fall on the floor carelessly.

"it's my moms, she dug it out after i came back home," you lie.

"i knew your mom is so cool."

park seonghwa really meant fierce when he said it. the red dress hugs your body like it was sewn on you, the leg slit high but hidden among the ruffles of the thick quality fabric. it is a corset dress, with offshoulder straps and a low cut. you don't feel exposed though. you feel like a queen.

"this fake ruby will go so good with that dress, trust me."

"oh, thank fuck, i thought it was real," you scoff, taking the big stone necklace and putting it on.

"why? think i can't afford it?"

"oh, no, no. apologies. you can totally afford a real ruby, miss." you joke, then glance at the clock.

just in time, a car pulls up to the entrance, the driver exiting to open the doors so they're ready for the two of you.

"shit, this is it. we're gonna get so wasted."

"isn't your dad gonna be there?"

"oh, he's not going to notice me when the headmaster gets him. poor woman is convinced that my dad wants her. some people just fail to realize that he just doesn't have the time for that. nor the will."

you feel like the sentence is targeting a little, but she doesn't spare you a glance as she sits in the car. the drive there is quiet, the clicking of her nails against the phone screen being the only noise in the small space. you glance at the small mirror of your hairbrush, checking your make-up again. you are feeling a little self-conscious, having never worn make-up this bold before. a winged eyeliner, heavy highlighter on your cheeks and inner eye corner, and a blood red lipstick. it's just a dance, wasn't this a little too formal?

one of your worst fears starts creeping into you, opening the doors of bottomless overthinking and migraines. what if you arrive overdressed, and everyone there is dressed in cute floral patterns and light spring dresses? while you are here looking like you've been dressed by donatella herself. and to think that park seonghwa saw the dress in the window of a store while just driving past it, and then went all the way back to get it and deliver it just for you, makes your stomach feel like fireworks.

to your relief, as you arrive in front of the building, you see that everyone else is equally extravagantly dressed. the dance wasn't at the college, but a place that park seonghwa himself has picked. it is a mansion just outside the city, with beautiful rose bushes, a stone path through the grass, and balconies to die for. it's like he knew how to make you stay longer than you planned on this dance.

"joshua!" you greet your partner as you enter the spacious room, surprised at the big change in his appearance.

"wow, don't you look luxurious. am i allowed to stand next to you?"

you playfully hit his shoulder, blushing at the comment. he turns to your friend, making small talk with her. you use the chance to glance around the room, in hopes of seeing the man of your dreams soon. you do not spot him, but you do spot a very familiar man. a man whose face you've seen on screen, and who has seen much more than your face on mr park's screen. your face instantly goes red, and your blood is boiling. you suddenly feel naked under his gaze, but he erases that feeling by smiling sweetly your way, and waving at you as a greeting. a complete opposite of that day.

"dad isn't answering my texts. i'm just gonna go find him to let him know i'm here."

you nod, then turn your attention back to joshua. to your surprise, he has left somewhere too, you just failed to acknowledge it. you are left alone among people who are already dancing, and you feel a little bored. with the dress in hand, so that you don't trip and make a fool of yourself already, you make your way towards one of the tables that stood near the walls.

you halt your steps, suddenly coming face to face with the man who had you wrapped around his finger. you don't mind. he fails to stop in time, accidentally bumping into you and almost making you fall back. his hands are quick to grab your waist, restoring your balance again. he doesn't immediately remove his hands. you don't mind that either.

"oh, mr park."

he doesn't speak. he takes a moment to look you up and down, and you do the same. he wears a white dress blouse, and his usual black slacks. the blouse is a little see-through, and you are taking in as much as you can while he busies himself staring at you.

"sir?" you call, suddenly remembering that your friend is searching for him, and that he has not yet removed his hands from you.

"god, you look ravishing." he groans.

"sir, your daughter might be-"

"i thought i had it under control. but now that you are here..." he trails, eyes dropping on your red lips. "i wish i could just-"

"seonghwa?"

the man turns around, and your waist suddenly feels cold and empty.

"dad?" another voice calls now behind you.

"sweetie?"

"mom?!"

you are shocked by the sight. a gorgeous woman, age similar to mr park, stands in front of the two of you. luscious locks fall over her shoulders and chest, and the royal blue dress you almost bought is overshadowing yours. it looks so much better on her.

"what the hell are you doing here?" mr park is calm, despite his harsh words.

"i am here to see my daughter. and talk to you."

"there's nothing left to talk about. i'm sure your husband would mind, anyway."

"seonghwa, please."

"dad, please." your friend begs, taking his hand and giving him her best big eyes.

he isn't a fool to fall for that. but he leaves with the woman anyway, because he knows just how stubborn they both are. the once married couple makes their way upstairs, and you can't help but stare until they disappear.

"it's rude to stare." your friend says, annoyed.

"oh, sorry. i must've zoned out."

"no, you didn't. you were staring at my dad."

you scrunch your eyebrows, looking at her confused. she rolls her eyes, then folds her arms across her chest.

"i'm not stupid. you think i didn't see how you threw yourself on him just a few minutes ago? acting like you're going to fall and shit, just so he could-"

"i swear it's not-"

"oh, shut the fuck up. putting your boobs out like that in that dress. is that even your dress? did your broke ass steal it?"

you are shocked by her sudden change in behaviour. you knew she had a problem with what happened between her father and you, but why did she decide to bring it up tonight? you have brought it up before, she assured you it is alright, and now that you really did not do anything, she is acting worse than before.

"it's not zara, bitch. it's versace. where the fuck did you get it? is it from me? because i can't keep track of all of my clothes, you thought you could just take it?"

you are grateful for the loud music, muting out her yelling. you see red. you know you are at wrong, but she picked the worst time to confront you. besides, it's not like you didn't talk about it at all. you thought it was all solved. guess not.

"your dad bought it for me." you spit out.

"what?"

"he thought i'd look hot in it." you press further.

"shut up."

"in fact, he just admitted that he wants to fuck me in it tonight."

"you're fucking delusional. he is getting back together with mom, don't you see? stop embarrassing yourself."

"you're telling me that your father would take back a cheater?"

her jaw drops. she knows it's true, but she has never heard you speak so freely. and she does not like that.

her hand reaches towards your hair, pulling at it, while the other one grabs a sleeve of your dress.

"stupid whore!" she curses, yanking at the necklace around your neck.

by now, people are starting to turn heads, slowly taking out their phones and recording.

"you are a shit friend, you know that? i've given you everything, and you go behind my back to fuck my dad? not once, but twice?"

"the fuck is your problem, i thought we solved this, you lunatic?!"

it gets on your nerves that you are taking this now that you really are innocent. you fight back, pushing her away from you and accidentally stepping on her dress, ripping it. everyone gasps, hands covering their mouths but phones still up in the air.

"you-" she breathes heavily, face red with rage. "you- you absolute slut! you whore!" she screams.

"that's enough." someone says next to you, before standing in between. "get up, you are making a fool of yourself. your drunk outbursts are hurting an innocent person."

"mr kim-" you start, ready to defend yourself.

"i'm not-!"

"come on," kim hongjoong helps the girl up, keeping her in a tight grip and guiding her outside the mansion. "phones away, everyone. show's over."

in the corner of your eye, you see park seonghwa rushing downstairs, followed by a woman in tears. by now, everyone went back to dancing, assuming that the girl was simply drunk and didn't know what she was saying. you are forever grateful to mr kim.

"what happened?" seonghwa grabs your shoulders, eyes skimming the ripped sleeve of the dress.

"your daughter happened." you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep tears from falling.

"oh, love, i'm so sorry."

"well, i kinda earned it."

mr park looks at you confused. you sigh, then slowly start walking towards one of the empty tables so that the dance floor can free up.

"she was saying some things and i intentionally pissed her off." you explain.

"what did she say?"

"that i intentionally threw myself on you, that i'm exposing my cleavage for you, and you know, that sort of stuff."

you cannot look him in the eyes. his gaze is too intense. his eyebrows are scrunched as he looks at you, and you aren't sure if he is mad with you or his daughter.

"and what did you say?"

you stay silent. you cannot fall any lower in his eyes. instead, you pour yourself a glass of wine, taking small sips of it. you absolutely hate alcohol, but in an awkward situation like this, you'll gladly drink the whole bottle if it means it'll get you out of the subject.

"do you wish to talk somewhere more private?" seonghwa suggests, making you choke back on the liquid.

"how private?" you ask before you can think.

the man chuckles, then offers his hand for you to take. you look around, making sure that the two women aren't around to see. mr kim has probably busied himself with taking care of mr park's daughter, and his ex must've left. she seemed pretty upset. you hate that the sight of her upset makes you happy.

park seonghwa leads you upstairs, much like his ex wife a few moments ago. he passes by a few doors in the hallway, until finally opening one. the interior is similar to the one in his library, only with a much bigger book selection. but he doesn't let you examine too much. he leads you to the balcony, which reminds you of the one from romeo and juliet. it looks like something from an old castle abandoned in the woods, with vines growing all over the old broken stone. the manor is surrounded by a light forest, just a few minutes away from the city, but the view from the balcony makes it seem like it is in the middle of a fantasy field. there is no light pollution, therefore you are able to see millions of shiny dots up in the sky. before you can keep gazing, mr park rests his hands on your waist, turning you around so that your back rests against the stone fence.

"sir?" you ask, hoping he would say something that you'll have an answer to.

"i was right. red is your colour."

his finger brushes over your red lips, then continues down your jawline, the neck bones, and to the cutout of the dress. he caresses the skin above the material, mere millimeters away. you are shivering, despite the pleasant weather tonight. you look into his eyes, bite down your lip when you see how focused he is in his moves.

"now that it's ripped off anyway, i'd love nothing more than to shred it to bits, just to see you again."

"but, you said-" you try reminding him of his message. he is very confusing to you.

"i know what i said. i can't help it." he steps closer to you, face inches away from yours. "i dream of devouring you in this dress."

his hand takes the wine glass from yours, lips pressing against it to take a sip. he looks deep into your eyes while he does so, faint glint getting you more riled up. you feel yourself dripping through the thin material of the thin lace thongs you wore, and it feels like he can feel it too somehow.

the glass is set on the fence now, a safe distance from both of you. you think he will finally speak again, but the man has other plans. his main plan seems to make you fall into his arms tonight, and it is working. his hands cup your face, and he presses his lips against yours. your hands are gripping the cold stone, not knowing what to do from the sudden explosion of emotions. carefully, park seonghwa pours the wine from his mouth into yours, sensually kissing you along the way.

aside from it being the hottest fucking thing that has ever happened to you, you are also happy that you didn't spill any of it. you swallow, and when you try to move away to catch a breath, he only deepens the kiss, your face still in his palms. he tugs on your lips, biting them gently, sucking them, swiping his tongue along them, with a satisfying rhythm. you can't help but whine into his mouth, a certain part of you wishing for more friction.

"all you have to do is say the words, doll." he says, voice deep and almost a whisper.

"what words?" you ask, stupidly.

"any words. anything that will give me a green light." he answers, eyes searching yours for any kind of signal.

you think, for a short time that to seonghwa seemed like years.

"take me. here. on this balcony."

seonghwa groans, and leans in again to give attention to your lips. his hands roam your body, mainly focusing on your waist and thighs. he grabs your flesh through the fabric, squeezing it with desire as his tongue hungrily chases yours, not getting enough of it no matter how much he gets.

he pulls away too fast for your liking, and before you can whine again, he drops down on his knees. his perfectly polished shoes are forgotten as they suffer scratches from the floor, and his perfectly ironed black pants will soon meet a similar fate.

"hold this for me, pretty?" he asks, handing you the bottom of your dress.

you are caught off by the sudden situation, yet your body responds immediately and takes the fabric from him. you can barely see him from the red ruffles, but you can definitely feel the hot wet muscle licking through the thin lace of your underwear. you sigh, your head falling back at the hot sensation on your clit.

"don't hold back, please. i want to hear you."

you feel uneasy, but the moment he pushes your panties aside and attaches his lips to your core, you do not care. you whine, breathe heavily, moan, pull at his hair in ecstasy. you love the thrill of knowing that anyone could walk in and the first thing they'd see is the two of you doing sinful things in the moonlight. bet they'd love the sight, too.

"fuck, sir-" you gasp, feeling him sucking on your sensitive bud.

"fuck, i love it when you call me sir. call me more names, darling, i beg you."

"m-make me," you choke out, feeling his finger sliding between your walls.

he scoffs, playfully tugging on your covered nipple as he continues pumping his finger in and out of you. he does it slowly, making sure to brush against the sensitive spot but not give it complete attention. just enough to keep you on the edge.

"oh, i'll make you. don't you worry." he promises.

his hands grab your thighs, almost raising your body from the ground, so that he could eat you out properly. you have the urge to close your legs, but his hands are firm and keep them open. you shake against his restless tongue, hoping to release soon.

"mr. park- please- please-" you beg, choking back tears.

you do not know why you tear up in sexual situations with him. from the pleasure? from the pain of edging? from knowing that this might be the last time you're doing it?

as soon as he hears your voice shaking, mr park stands up, making sure that it really is what he thinks it is. without a word, he kisses you again, lips wet with your arousal. he keeps fingering you, knuckles disappearing between your folds and deliciously preparing you for him.

"turn around for me, little girl."

his words shoot arrows to your core, and it takes a lot of strength in you to do as he says. his fingers find their place right under your jaw, softly pressing into your neck and making it difficult for you to stay sober. he releases every now and then, just enough to let you breathe properly. his other hand moves the back of your dress, giving it to you to hold onto, and then raises your leg so that it rests on the fence. you are now standing on one leg, wet core completely exposed to the cool night air and him.

"good girl," he praises, leaving a kiss on the top of your head. "so flexible for me."

you hear a zipper, then clothes ruffling. you breathe out when you feel something smooth and hot rubbing up and down your folds, not yet entering. your head drops from the dizziness of his playful choking, and your eyes widen when you finally see the rest of the view from the balcony.

down there, in the garden behind the manor, there are three benches and a fountain. and on one of the benches, his ex wife. she seems to notice you at the same time you notice her, judging by her sudden jaw drop and widened eyes. you don't get to warn him, as you are interrupted by your own gasp caused by his hot muscle pushing inside your tights walls. he wastes no time in thrusting into you, quickly catching a rhythm while simultaneously pulling your hair with his other hand. at this point, it is more you thrusting back into him than he is thrusting forwards into you. you need his every inch, no matter how fucked up the situation at the moment is.

you can't help it, you look at the poor woman in the eyes, moaning as her ex husband is tearing you apart on the balcony of their once shared holiday manor.

"louder," he growls, speeding up his movements.

and you do it. you moan, louder, not on purpose, but because it really feels that good.

"fuck, your cunt is made for me."

"da-daddy-" you test the grounds, and he halts his movements.

shit, you fucked up.

"what?" he says, out of breath.

"nothing-" you gasp, his fingers pressing into your neck, "daddy, i said daddy-"

you are interrupted by a moan again, as he begins thrusting harder. the woman is on the verge of tears, and even though you feel a little bad, the feeling of her husband's cock filling you up feels too good. you also remember the reason they parted. she did the same with another man. you allow yourself a moment of braveness, already having said goodbye to the friendship with their daughter.

you smile down at the woman, then reach behind to grab mr park's hair. you moan, loud and clear, more for her to hear. the man groans, burying his head into your shoulder and biting down, making you gasp and close your eyes in pain. his hand rests on your lower back, making you arch it just a bit more so he can finally hit the spot you both need.

you open your eyes, only to find her still standing there in disbelief and shock. she is disgusted with you, and heartbroken by him. and you do not care.

"mr. park, you're too big for me-" you choke out.

he slows his movements, then raises his head from your shoulder. he admires the bruise he has created for a moment, then follows your gaze down to the benches. upon seeing his ex wife, you expect him to stop. but he only does so for a moment, before yanking down the fabric on your chest and exposing your breasts. he continues diving into you, softly panting into your ear and driving you insane.

the woman seems too stunned to even move. it is clear she is not enjoying it, she isn't a voyeour.

"you're taking me so well, doll. you should see how abused your pretty pussy looks, begging me to cum all over it and inside it." he growls, then grabs your jaw so that he can look at you.

his eyebrows are scrunched, focused on the approaching orgasm.

"moan for me more, baby, please. you sound majestic."

unable to hold back, you moan into his mouth, hips thrusting back in a desperate attempt to reach the orgasm. it is building up inside of you for so long, threatening to overflow any moment now. but he has complete control over the rhythm, and the moment you start moving too, he chokes you just a little harder.

"sir, please, sir, let me cum- i want to cum on your dick so, so bad," you say everything that is on your mind. he enjoys seeing you vulnerable in his hands, and slows down the pace just to hear you some more.

"you want to cream on daddy's cock, little girl? you want me to fill you up all the way, to have you walk with my cum inside your abused little hole the entire night? have my daughter apologize to you as you desperately try to keep my seed from spilling down your legs?"

"mr park-"

"yes, angel."

"sir-"

"just a bit more, doll."

"seonghwa-" you scream, and he is quick to press his lips on yours to calm you down.

feeling your walls squeeze from the waves of the orgasm, you take him over the edge, his seed painting your walls and making it easier for him to ride his own orgasm out. your body shakes from the intense pleasure, and from the sudden rush of cold air on your bare arms. mr park is quick to release your neck, and wrap his arms around you and press your body against his chest. he kisses you sweetly, simultaneously rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm you up. his cock twitches inside of you, and he is still slowly thrusting in and out, riding out the rest of the orgasm.

you breathe heavily into his mouth, legs going limp and threatening to become numb any second. he finally helps you set your leg down, and slowly pulls out of you. hot seed spills out of your hole and down your leg, and you are scared that it will stain the dress.

"do you trust me?"

"huh?"

"do you trust me?" he repeats himself, guiding you so that your body is facing him again.

"well, yes, i- oh!"

he picks you up by your waist, so that you can sit on the stone fence. it is wide enough for you to sit comfortably, but if you could choose not to, you would. his hands are holding you firmly, and his eyes tell you he isn't letting go.

"this dress looks gorgeous on you, but it is in my way the whole evening," he huffs, flipping the dress once more.

"no, i'm too sensitive-" you try to stop him, but he hushes you.

"trust. me."

he doesn't touch your clit. he doesn't try to finger you. instead, he collects the white streak that has started the journey down your thigh, pushing it back into your hole. you feel yourself becoming wet again, horny and angry butterflies raving in your stomach. he uses his two fingers to gently push all of his seed inside you again, and he looks up at you with deadly eyes. you recognize the lust once again, and you almost moan at the sight. "now, let's go find my daughter to get your apology." “no!” you protest, panic swallowing you.

“relax. she will say no, I will be mad at her, and she will then ask to go with her mother.”

you try to follow, but you can’t. why is he so careless about his daughter choosing his ex wife over him? he seems to realise your confusion, and laughs fondly.

“that way, nothing can stop us doing this any time and anywhere. and, I can finally make that dinner reservation at the new restaurant. been dying to try it with you.”

“but, I don’t have any money. I cannot pay my share.”

park seonghwa chuckles, then leaves a soft kiss on your forehead. you feel all fuzzy and warm, feet swinging under the dress from the simple act.

“I’ll gladly be your sugar daddy. just the more romantic and relationship type of sugar daddy.”

oh.

“what do you say?”

“I say your cum is ready to be washed out so I better go fetch my apology.”

“good girl.”

taglist for this series

@scardorosht @kitty4hwa @atinism @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rkivesofmymemories @i-love-ateez @bangmechann @dandelion-aj @rialovesyunho @bellamuerte1987 @livingdeadlisa @jen176pink @yeosxxx @az-con @313hwa @btsreader12 @dafodillhwa @enhypemen @perfetlysane24 @linoriii @likexaxdaydream @yeosangsbbg @starbvrryhwa @riboism

[eddiernunson]

Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him | Older Rockstar!Eddie x Harrington Fem!Reader | 18+

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Summary: The stories of Eddie Munson, front man of Corroded Coffin and his music filled the Harrington household, his albums on shelves and picture frames hung of your dad and him, young and dumb. You’re home for the weekend, which just so happens to be the same weekend Eddie is in Hawkins on a personal errand. The longtime crush on him bubbles to the surface as you meet him, giving into the temptation of small summer dresses and bubblegum gloss for the fun of it. Until your dad is called in to an emergency work meeting. Then the fun of torture becomes temptation.

Warnings: Older Rockstar!Eddie, Harrington!Reader (Steve’s daughter), multichapter build up, excessive use of nicknames, no use of y/n, use of marijuana, perv!Eddie, this chapter has some forced proximity, tension and uh oh feelings.

Describes: long hair, shorter than Eddie by a few inches, reader is described to look like her mom (can be ANY race) with Steve’s freckles. No skin colour, body shape/type

Word Count: 3.7k (it’s the shortest one, I promise I’m so sorry 😭)

Chapter 2

The first thing you did when you got into Eddie Munson’s little red corvette was peel the window open, claiming you had just needed some fresh air. It was true, as his scent had choked you as soon as you sat down on the dark gray leather seats. It’s strangely intoxicating, an odd mix of smoke, woodsy, and pure man that has you wanting to take a big whiff like some little pervert.

Strangely even from the window of a rockstar’s corvette the little town looked no more glamorous than it did from your beat up car, the small town feel of it all suffocating as you fill with gratitude you managed to get out. He finally pulls in front of a three story apartment, white walls and balconies so small they make you claustrophobic.

“Uh, how are we supposed to fill this small car with all your uncle’s stuff?” You ask, peering into the backseat as you undo your seatbelt.

He smiles, his eyes momentarily switching between the backseat of the two door car and you. “My van is in the resident’s parking lot, it should have plenty of room to move stuff over.”

“So, donation, your place and your uncle’s place, I’m guessing?” You ask, walking a step behind him to the front door of the building.

“Pretty much. It just comes down to going through it which I know, will be a fucking pain.” He reaches your eyes, giving you a small smile. “Thanks for coming.”

You didn’t have much of a choice.

“Not that you had much of a choice,” he adds as he opens the apartment door, a small bout of laughter filling the halls.

Okay, that was weird.

His uncle lived on the first floor in the corner room in a furnished spot, so all it came down to were the knicknacks he had collected over the years. You didn’t think that’d be so bad until you walked in, your eyes landing on wall to wall collections of mugs and hats and other tiny sentimental things.

“Pretty sure we’re going to end up donating most of the mugs, he doesn’t use them anyway, it’s the hats he’s been fighting tooth and nail for,” he rolls his eyes, grabbing a moving box you haven’t noticed from a stack in a pile against the wall.

“How’d those get here?”

“My assistant brought them with the van,” he explains, setting the box up. “He’s hanging out around town until we pack the van up.”

“Must be nice to have an assistant to take care of that shit,” you muse, your voice only the teeniest bit bitter about it.

He passes you the box, his shoulders shaking in laughter. “I’m aware it sounds pretentious. I only hired him when I kept losing track of which fucking thing I had to do next. Interview, show, interview, photo shoot…it was fucking never ending at times. Sometimes I needed a reminder to fucking eat.”

You grab the box from him, ignoring the twinge in your gut as you walk up to a bookshelf in the corner of the small living room containing many little things. You know time is of the essence, but you can’t help yourself, leaning over to analyze the display his uncle had created. There’s a photo in the center in a simple wooden frame, a gruff older man who you supposed would be Wayne standing arm in arm with Eddie, a much younger, freer Eddie, at least, standing outside in front of a forest area.

Eddie has his hand on his hip, squinting his eyes against the sun with his uncle's arm wrapped around his shoulder. If you’d looked closer, you’d see their reddened faces, blotchy from tears shed but both gritting their teeth for the picture.

“That was the day I left for LA,” you jump at his voice, holding your chest tightly as you turn to look around to face him.

He’s still across the apartment, wrapping the mugs and storing them in a tupperware box. “I have never seen him cry like that in my life. I was scared shitless.”

You avoid his stare, the starry eyed version of him something you’re not quite used to, something stirs deep in your gut that you find oddly unsettling.

In an attempt to ignore it you look closer at the knick knacks surrounding it, suddenly realizing it was just Corroded Coffin merch, tickets, and even demos. “These would be worth a pretty penny,” you turn over the tape in your hand, imagining a rough draft of Eddie’s untuned, inexperienced vocals. “To you, they must be priceless.”

“I could release them if I’d really wanted to, but the songs suck and my voice was even worse,” Eddie shrugs, still moving mugs into their different boxes. You notice how much fuller the one on the left is, Eddie making actual progress in comparison to your dilly-dallied snooping.

“I bet Wayne still wants this.” You sigh, placing the memorabilia gently in the cardboard box, admiring the faded ink from ticket stubs over twenty years ago. The following shelf had a full row of dark fantasy novels, every spine cracked to oblivion with yellowed crinkled pages. “Do you want these?”

Eddie looks over, absentmindedly wrapping a mug when he double, triple takes, his face lighting up like a kid on Christmas. “Oh I thought he threw those away!”

Suddenly the scent of his cologne invades your nose again as he leans right next to you, grabbing at one of the books on the shelf with a giddy grin. “I used to reread these all the time.”

“Princesses needing rescuing in some odd faraway land?” You tease, turning the dark green book over in your hand.

“Usually with some kind of twist,” he hums, analyzing the back of his paperback as he squats his ass an inch over the floor. “Dragons being in cahoots, noble knights acting selfishly, evil kings turning out to be righteously good… there was always some sort of twist,” his narration turned dramatic as the sentence moved on, a story teller’s voice.

It reminded you of one specific fun fact. “Uncle Dustin said you were his dungeon master in high school, were these any inspiration?”

Eddie’s brows furrow deeply, jerking his head as swivels sharply upward. “Somehow it’d slipped my mind that you would know Dust.”

You nod absentmindedly, taking in the fantastical names in the description. Lysandra the princess, Eletha the fae, King Alistair… “Unfortunately.”

“Hmm,” he peeps, fluttering through the pages. “Aah, Sorceress Nyrinn teaching Lysandra basic magic, this takes me back.”

You smile down at him, how his dimples are deeply embedded in his cheeks and his front canines peek from behind that wide grin as he skims through his harlequin equivalent chock full of fantasy and adventure.

“Any of these girls you’ve ever fantasized about rescuing?” You tease him, starting to toss the books in a box labeled Eddie Home. He remains silent, even a pink tinge dusting his ears. “I was joking, sire.”

“Just keep packing,” he grumbles, tossing the book carelessly into your very organized box. “I’m gonna go take a quick smoke break.”

You find yourself fallen into an easy pattern, having figured out what Eddie’s looking to keep very early on. He’s even willing to go through the boxes that have been long stored at Wayne’s apartment, insisting they don’t need any dead weight, not in Wayne’s small sized room, and not lugged across a few state lines back in LA.

One of the boxes stored in Wayne’s closet seems like it was just thrown together until you realize they were all belongings of a teenage boy. A soft smile graces your face as you imagine Wayne unable to part with the little part of seventeen year old Eddie he still had with him, even if it’s his messy room thrown into a box.

You pick up a small shoe box, the items clunkily jumping about when you shake it. It’s only logical that the box should hold a few dozen player’s dice and painted figurines. The box’s heavy weight is largely contributed to by the worn out and outdated version of the player’s manual.

You take note of the sticky notes curled and faded peeking out of the pages, messy scrawl noting a page Eddie must’ve used for referral once or twice.

One set of dice had a familiar red and plank pattern, painted to look like his prized guitar. You smooth your thumb along the ridged paint, putting the box aside for Eddie despite the protests he will so obviously yelp out.

He deserves to be a bit more forgiving of that side of himself.

There were a handful of items you picked up and put aside for donation, a few old music tapes, a guitar string placement poster, until something catches your eye; a well loved classified notebook.

Now, you might’ve been wrong, but you always had the feeling that Eddie wasn’t too interested in his school work, all items from his locker having been tossed in the garbage the moment the last bell rang each year. As you tentatively open the book, you realize it was probably the one thing that kept him going back.

Each lined paper was filled with his messy scrawl, an intriguing combination of cursive and print, extensively detailed plans for his run as, so Dustin called him, a vindictive and tyrannical dungeon master. Across the scrawl were doodles, well shaded pencil drawings of creatures and classes alike. One page caught your eye towards the end, a full page of scattered doodles that seemed eerily familiar to you.

“Wow.” You look up to face Eddie leaned against the door frame with his arms across his chest, his eyes trained on the notebook in your hands. “I haven’t seen that in a while.”

You glance back down to the page and its doodles, still trying to make sense of where you could’ve seen it. As if plucked out of thin air, a song starts playing in your head and it clicks. “Hey you used these doodles on an album cover.”

He nods, watching your hands gently touch the graphite on the paper. “You could totally donate these to a rock and roll museum; they'd think it's dope.”

Eddie shakes his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “No one wants to see my ratty old notebook filled with my dateless evenings. There’s not even a single lyric in there.”

“But this is on one of your albums, isn’t it?”

He nods, smiling softly at the abstract doodles before glancing up to you. “I don’t want it, I would never look at it. Take it, if you want.”

You were already tempted to steal it, the notebook having a scent that’s so specifically Eddie with an added elixir of teenage boy added to the mix making maybe your one true Kryptonite. “Whaaaaat? Why would I take it?”

“Steve said you’re a fan of our music, yeah?” You nod meekly, still tracing the graphite. “Well if not, it's going in the trash.”

You put it in your purse.

Since your father left that morning, so did the tether that kept your head on straight, any lingering ideas kept at bay as you kept a safe distance. It was gone.

Keeping a safe distance as an act of self discipline all but seemed moot when your dad offered your services, now stuck in a tiny apartment working around Eddie as his gentle voice hums to the music blasting through his phone.

Maybe a dress isn’t the best choice to wear for manual labor such as packing and moving boxes, the length obviously not long enough to cover the bright underwear. Maybe it's the little allowance you give yourself to indulge in defiance against your own rule. Regardless, it was safer to stay as far away as possible.

Fate proves herself to be a cruel mistress as you find yourself on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab something on a shelf you wondered why someone elderly had a shelf stored so high on the wall, and you smelt him before you felt him, reaching to the shelf’s level to grab it for you.

“Why the hell did he have a shelf this fuckin’ high for?” He huffs, tossing the hidden box onto the bed.

He steps away as fast as he came, leaving the room with a few boxes you had packed and ready. The moment clouds your brain, his strong torso completely against your back, his hot breath on your neck as he stepped away. What the hell?

Your heart pitter patters, your whole body frazzled while you put a few more boxes by the door.

As you’re leaning down to pick up another box you hear Eddie swear loudly down the hall in disgust. He uses the lord’s name in vain several times, rubbing his hand on his pants as his face twists up in utter revulsion when you peek out to see the culprit.

“Somethin’ gross? I don’t see anything wrong with this picture,” you comment, looking around his setting for what might have set him off.

“Don’t–” his hands fly up to prevent you from taking another step. His overly wide eyes and panicked state would usually have you laughing if you weren’t so curious to what could possibly send him into this frantic state of disgust. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”

“Now I really do want to know,” you insist, still scanning the room.

“No. You don’t.” He shakes his head solemnly, his foot slowly shuffling slightly to his left. “Seriously.”

“Can I at least have a hint?” You plead, knowing the possibilities will drive you crazy all day.

“I just found a box of my old clothes,” Eddie starts, gesturing to a kaleidoscope of different shades of black with an occasional band font, unfolded as if thrown in a hurry.

He obviously is hinting towards something, but you need some more exposition. “...Ok?”

Eddie pauses to think, hands on his hips as he racks his brain for something. “Think of it this way. Think of the one item of clothing you don’t want to find under a teenage boy’s bed, twenty years later. Especially twenty years later.” He shudders again.

The one thing…oh. “Oh my god,” you giggle, hiding your obvious glee over his disgust behind your hand. “A…sock?”

Eddie nods slowly, nodding his head in what must be mortification. “Uh huh. I am burning this whole bucket of clothes that just–” he shudders, his left foot inching towards where you had to now guess what must be an absolutely petrified cum-sock lies, “marinated in it.”

A bout of laughter passes through your lips again, disguising the odd intrigue you found yourself in. You might be more perverted than even you initially realized.

No, put away the thought of inhaling in the 20-year-old musk–

“Hey, do you mind helping me with this box? It’s ridiculously heavy,” Eddie gestures down the hall to a tote seemingly filled to the brim with random shit, the sock supposedly tossed into the garbage by then.

“No problem.”

“You want me to walk backward?” He offers, reaching your eyes as you both bend over to grab at the awkward edges.

“Yeah that’d be great,” You cough, failing to ignore the cigarette on his breath just barely disguised by the mint.

Step by step you help him around the corners until you help lift the box into his van, refusing to allow yourself more than a singular moment lingering on how his arms bulge through the lift.

Wayne had a bedside table he hadn’t gone through, filled with momentums over the years. You grab one of the smaller boxes from the living room to hold them, wanting to take care of the things that Wayne had cared for. There were a few photos, Eddie in scattered years from an angsty teenager to a rowdy kid with a missing front tooth. It was obvious everything in his bedside would be moved back to Wayne, allowing him his precious memories of the boy he cared for.

Allotted between the table and the bed is a photo album, something you suspect is cover to cover filled with more photos until you get the glimpse of a brightly coloured pape, just a millisecond but enough to peak your curiosity.

By the second page you’re in tears, softly sniffling at messy scribblings with silly puns and elaborate doodles.

“Hey, when you get a sec–” Eddie stops mid-sentence, taking you in on the bare bed as you weepily turn a page. “You okay?”

“Oh,” you wipe away the tear that was shed, embarrassed. “I’m fine. It’s just— it’s so obvious he went through this a lot, some pages are worn out.”

“Let’s see,” he holds his hand out for the photo album, a drop of weight on the bed as he peers shoulder to shoulder with you as he reads over the pages in front of you. “Oh, wow.”

You put the book in his outstretched hands, watching his expression turn misty as well. The deceitful photo album is an album of father’s day cards, about twenty of them all lined in a row with Eddie’s well wishes in each one.

“I started sending them when I was 25,” he mumbles, his voice wet as he turns a page. “I figured since he raised me n’ all, he deserved the title and the recognition.”

“Seems like he felt honored,” you comment, watching page by page.

“I picked these cards out in less than a second but he puts them in a pressed fucking photo album,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Wayne is ridiculous. But he’s always been my biggest supporter.”

Impulsively, you nudge your chin on his shoulder affectionately, watching him flip through the last through the final few pages. You wondered if his vulnerability making you even crazier for him would be an isolated incident.

God sure had a sick sense of humor when he tied emotion and lust for women.

Turns out, you two work remarkably well together because by the time Eddie places the photo album in the box with a not so subtle sniffle, Wayne’s room, kitchen, and livingroom are all packed up and ready for distribution. The things going home with Eddie and to Wayne’s room are in the van stacked like tetris with your very ‘helpful’ commentary and the donations are piled up by the front door waiting for their collection.

The little red corvette has been sitting in the hot sun for a few hours by the time you’re back into it, ready for a night off your feet.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” Eddie comments, taking a turn away from your house.

Your stomach growls at the mention of food, still only two slices of toast being the one thing used to sustain your appetite for the day. “I could definitely eat.”

“Good, I need to thank you for your help.”

You avoid his intense gaze from the corner of your eye, staring holes into your thighs. “It was nothing–”

“What’s your favourite spot in town?” Eddie seems to be ignoring your protests, meeting them with an exaggerated huff as if you were acting foolish.

“I don’t mind if you take me to the nearest one, Munson. I’m starving,” you insist, laughing at the manic shaking of his head.

“I’m not taking you anywhere except your favorite spot,” Eddie insists right back, without missing a beat.

No wonder he and Steve had managed to stay friends for so long, he matches your stubbornness step for step.

“Fine! Take me to Miss.Tina’s I haven’t had their burgers since I’ve been back,” you think back to their fully stacked burgers paired with their crinkle fries drizzled in mustard. You still haven’t been able to find a burger from a local restaurant near your campus that even rivals Miss.Tina’s recipe.

“Oh, I know you’re fucking with me,” Eddie laughs, taking the left turn at the traffic lights.

“Nope,” you inform him, shaking your head slowly. “It’s always been my favourite place in town.”

“Well call that dumb luck, because it’s my fuckin’ favourite place, too.”

“I take it back.”

You laugh at his deadpan, noting the new decor around the walls since the last time you’ve seen it.

“It’s not that bad.” It is, you’re just hoping he doesn’t leave because of the change.

“Are you shitting me?” Eddie deadpans, glancing around to the updated insides now turned into a hollow husk of a restaurant. At least, it certainly felt like the funeral march of your once beloved restaurant. “It’s a horrendous study in interior design. Who the hell paints the inside of a restaurant bright orange?”

“Ok, it’s that bad, but I just need a damn good burger.” You lead the way into the line, noting their updating point of sale. Last time you were there the employee had still been using a notepad, this time an iPad had been stationed on a stand.

The employee now wears some updated uniform barring the design, a bright smile on her face as she greets the two of you. Definitely not the deadened stare you were used to.

The mustard packet you received was a third of the size of what they used to be. It seems Miss.Tina’s has finally met empty corporate capitalism.

The decor might’ve changed, but the recipes remain as always untouched, a collective groan in satisfaction in your first bites in the tacky booth confirmation that Miss.Tina’s still fucks.

“If they change their recipe they are so screwed,” Eddie says exactly what you’re thinking between bites, wiping his face from the sauces that splatters his lips. As he wipes it off, you start to think of making out with him in the booth and lapping up and cleaning his messy face for him. Some real good messy make outs.

You nod, taking a sip from the large soda that must be at least 5 ounces smaller. “Oh, they’d shut down within the week.”

“This was one of the only few places where every group in Hawkins High could be seen, because they didn’t care when we loitered and Miss.Tina treated us like her own.” Eddie glances upward at a sign right by the table, NO LOITERING.

“That’s kind of really depressing,” you sigh, munching on your fry through a fucking wooden fork. “I am not sure I want these fries lathered in mustard enough to also add the taste of wood to it.”

“Plenty of wood has been tasted in these walls before,” Eddie smirks, raising his pierced brow when you choke on the following fry.

It’s like he prides himself on how he manages to make your brain short circuit so easily. Thankfully, years of being raised in the Harrington household has trained a keen sense of wit into you. “Judging on those princess books, Munson,” you take another sip, letting the beginning of your sentence settle in, “doesn’t seem like yours was one of them.”

The fry that bounced off your forehead the moment after was worth it, and the rosy pink that bloomed across his cheeks was even more so.

-

I have 99% done at this point I’m so excited for y’all to read it!!!

Main taglist: @arlxt @alastorssimp @mmunson86 @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

Taglist for Ice Cream, Bikinis, and Other Ways To Torture Him: @emxxblog @transparentenemypenguin @stylesxmunson @ali-r3n @mediocredreams @miaajaade @dreamerjj @prestinalove @pretty-pink-princess @alesiaaa @moonisu @love-anonymous-writer @marlena-marlena @bl1ssfulbaby @kellsck @rockmusiciscalming12 @eddie-munsonsbitch

[pedroscowgirl]

love beyond boundaries

hugh jackman x afab!reader

masterlist (part 1,2 & 3 are here)

warnings: smut! minors, dni!

pregnancy/babytalk , a little angst(no bad stuff), breeding kink, age gap (reader is in her twenties, hugh is 55), creampie , p in v (wrap it up ironic use here) uh lmk if i forgot something

summary: you and hugh visit blake , ryan and their kids but what if it hits you that his kids need to know about your relationship aswell?

Words: 9.6k

a/n: we're gonna pretend like blake is a good person here lol but if you don't like baby/breeding stuff pls feel free to skip this chapter <3

also, i didn't really proofread this because it's 6 am here (I feel like I could've written this better😭)

On one particular afternoon, you all gathered at Ryan and Blake's home for a casual get-together. The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the backyard where the children were playing. Their laughter filled the air, a joyful symphony that made the day feel perfect. You and Blake joined in the fun, running around with the kids, your hearts light and your spirits high. Blake was a natural with the children, and you found yourself drawn into the carefree energy of the moment, the simple pleasure of play.

As you were chasing after one of the little ones, you noticed Ryan and Hugh standing off to the side, their heads close together in quiet conversation. At first, you didn't think much of it, assuming they were just catching up on something. But as you glanced over again, you caught sight of the serious expression on Ryan's face, and the way Hugh's smile seemed to falter as he listened to whatever Ryan was saying.

Ryan had pulled Hugh aside, away from the playful chaos of the backyard, and there was a gravity in his posture that hadn’t been there earlier. Ryan had always been the more easygoing of the two, but in that moment, his demeanor was different,more somber, as if he had been carrying something heavy on his mind for a while and had finally decided it was time to speak up.

"Hey man," Ryan started, his voice steady but tinged with hesitation, "I love that you're happy. I really do." His words were sincere, but there was a note of concern that made Hugh's expression shift. The relaxed, contented look that had been on Hugh's face throughout the day began to fade, replaced by a more serious, almost guarded, expression. He knew Ryan well enough to sense that something important was coming.

Ryan took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Hugh’s as he continued, "But... don’t you think she’s a little too young for you?" There it was—the question that had been lingering unspoken, the one Ryan had clearly been wrestling with for some time. "I mean, I love you, man, but this... this just doesn’t seem like you. What happened to you liking older women? You know, women who are closer to your age?"

Hugh’s expression tightened, his eyes narrowing slightly as he listened. Ryan wasn’t finished, though. He was trying to be as gentle as possible, but he couldn’t hide his worry. "She's in the same age range as your kids, Hugh. I know you're in love, and I can see that she makes you happy, but I just can't help but wonder if you've really thought this through."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of Ryan's concern. It was clear that this conversation wasn’t just a passing thought for him—it was something he genuinely felt needed to be addressed, out of love and friendship. Hugh remained silent for a moment, his gaze dropping to the ground as he absorbed what Ryan was saying. He had known this might come up eventually, but hearing it from Ryan, his close friend, made it all the more real.

Ryan’s tone wasn’t accusatory, nor was it judgmental. It was filled with the kind of care that only a true friend could offer, someone who wasn’t afraid to ask the difficult questions because they cared too much not to. He wasn’t trying to undermine Hugh’s happiness; he was just trying to make sure that his friend was okay, that this relationship was truly what Hugh wanted and needed.

Hugh finally looked up, meeting Ryan’s gaze with a serious look of his own. The easy going atmosphere of the afternoon seemed a world away now, as the two men stood there, the sound of the children's laughter in the background contrasting sharply with the weight of their conversation. Hugh opened his mouth to respond, but for a moment, no words came out. He was thinking, considering everything that had been said. He knew Ryan was coming from a place of love, but that didn’t make the question any easier to answer.

The pause stretched on, and when Hugh finally spoke, his voice was calm but firm. "I hear you, Ryan. I get what you’re saying, and I appreciate that you care enough to talk to me about this. But..." He hesitated, searching for the right way to express what he was feeling. "But this isn’t about age for me. It’s about how she makes me feel—alive, understood, like I can be myself again. It’s different, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong."

Ryan listened, his expression softening as he heard the conviction in Hugh’s voice. It was clear that Hugh had thought about this more than Ryan had realized, that this wasn’t just some fleeting infatuation. Still, Ryan couldn’t shake his concern, and he knew this conversation was far from over. But for now, he simply nodded, offering a small, understanding smile, even as his mind continued to turn over the implications of what they had just discussed.

As they stood there, the distance between them bridged by their shared history and mutual respect, the sounds of the playful scene in the background seemed to fade into focus again, reminding them both of the here and now, and the importance of the choices they were making.

After their conversation, Hugh and Ryan rejoined the group, but there was an unspoken tension lingering in the air. Hugh’s mood had shifted slightly,he was still present, still engaged with the kids and with you, but there was a weight to his movements, a contemplative look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. You noticed, of course, sensing that something was off, but decided not to press him about it just yet. The afternoon was still meant to be enjoyed, and you didn’t want to disrupt the lighthearted atmosphere.

As the day wore on and the sun began to dip lower in the sky, Blake suggested that everyone move inside for dinner. The kids were getting tired, their energy waning, and it seemed like the perfect time to shift gears. You helped Blake in the kitchen, preparing a simple meal while Hugh and Ryan stayed with the kids in the living room. There was a sense of domesticity that felt comforting, as if you were all a part of the same family, sharing in the little moments that make life feel rich and full.

But even as you chopped vegetables and Blake stirred a pot on the stove, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Hugh. He was talking to Ryan, smiling at something one of the kids said, but there was still that shadow in his eyes, something unresolved that tugged at your heart.

Once dinner was ready, you all gathered around the table. The conversation was light and easy, filled with laughter and stories from the past, but you could tell that Ryan was still watching Hugh closely, as if waiting for a sign, some indication that everything was truly okay. And Hugh, ever the actor, was doing his best to mask any inner turmoil, though you could see the subtle signs—the way his fingers tapped restlessly against the table, the slight delay in his responses.

After dinner, as the kids settled down for the evening with a movie, you and Hugh found a moment alone. You had stepped outside to get some fresh air, and he joined you, the two of you standing together on the porch, the cool night air brushing against your skin.

Hugh leaned against the railing, staring out into the darkening yard, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. You reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you. "Hey," you said softly, "is everything okay?"

He turned to you, and for a moment, the mask slipped. His eyes were tired, filled with a mixture of emotions that he had been holding back all evening. "Ryan said something earlier," he admitted, his voice low. "He’s worried about us. About the age difference, mostly."

You nodded, not entirely surprised. You had sensed that something like this might come up eventually. "And what do you think?" you asked, your voice calm and steady, though your heart was beating a little faster.

Hugh sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I think... I think he has a point, in some ways. But at the same time, I know what I feel for you is real. It’s not about how old you are or how old I am. It’s about the connection we have, about how you make me feel alive in a way I haven’t felt in years."

You listened, your hand still resting on his arm, offering silent support. "But I can’t ignore what he said," Hugh continued, his brow furrowing in thought. "It’s not just about us, it’s about how this affects everyone around us—my kids, our friends... I don’t want to hurt anyone."

The sincerity in his voice was clear, and it made your heart ache a little. "Hugh," you said gently, "I understand where Ryan is coming from, and I know this isn’t easy. But what we have... it’s worth figuring out. We can take things slow, make sure this is what we both want and that we’re doing what’s best for everyone involved."

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and you could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was torn between his feelings for you and his loyalty to those he cared about. "I want this to work," he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. "I want us to work. But I also need to make sure that it’s the right thing, for everyone."

You nodded, your heart swelling with affection for this man who was trying so hard to do the right thing. "We’ll figure it out together," you assured him. "Whatever happens, we’ll face it as a team. I’m not going anywhere, Hugh."

He smiled then, a small, grateful smile, and pulled you into a gentle embrace. As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the night surrounding you like a protective cloak, you knew that this was just the beginning of a journey,one that would have its challenges, but also its moments of deep connection and understanding.

The days that followed were filled with a delicate balance. Hugh was more thoughtful, more introspective, and while he didn’t bring up the conversation with Ryan again immediately, you could tell it was still on his mind. You continued to spend time together, both as a couple and with your friends, but there was a newfound awareness in everything you did. It was as if you were both testing the waters, seeing how this relationship fit into the wider fabric of your lives.

One evening, a week or so later, you and Hugh decided to have dinner at his place, just the two of you. It was a quiet night, with the kind of easy conversation that flowed naturally between you. But as you were finishing up, Hugh suddenly set down his fork and looked at you with an intensity that took you by surprise.

"I’ve been thinking a lot about what Ryan said," he began, his tone serious. "And about us. I’ve realized that I need to talk to my kids about this, about us. They deserve to know, and I want them to hear it from me."

You felt a flutter of nerves at the mention of his children, but you knew he was right. This was an important step, one that couldn’t be avoided if your relationship was going to move forward. "How do you think they’ll react?" you asked, your voice soft, but steady.

Hugh sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I’m not sure. They’re good kids, and they love me, but this is... different. It’s not something they’re used to, and I don’t know how they’ll take it. But I owe it to them to be honest."

You reached across the table, taking his hand in yours. "You’re a good father, Hugh. They’ll see that, and they’ll see how much you care about them. Whatever happens, we’ll handle it together."

He squeezed your hand, a small smile playing on his lips. "Thank you. I’m just... I’m nervous. I don’t want to lose them, and I don’t want to lose you."

"You won’t lose me," you assured him, your voice filled with quiet conviction. "We’re in this together, remember?"

He nodded, a look of determination settling over his features. "Yeah, we are."

------------------------------------------

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions as Hugh prepared to talk to his children. He spent a lot of time thinking about how to approach the conversation, wanting to be as open and honest as possible, but also sensitive to their feelings. You gave him the space he needed, offering support when he asked for it, but also stepping back when he needed to figure things out on his own.

Finally, the day came. Hugh invited his children over to his place for dinner, a casual gathering that had become a regular occurrence. They arrived, bringing with them the usual energy and chatter, but Hugh could tell they sensed something different in his demeanor. He was trying to stay relaxed, but there was a nervousness he couldn’t completely hide.

After dinner, when they were all settled in the living room, Hugh took a deep breath and began. "There’s something I need to talk to you about," he said, his voice steady but serious. The room quieted, his children turning their attention to him with a mix of curiosity and concern.

He took another breath, then continued. "I’ve met someone. Someone who’s become very important to me. And I want to be honest with you about it."

His children exchanged glances, clearly surprised, but they didn’t interrupt, waiting for him to explain.

"The thing is," Hugh went on, "she’s younger than me. Quite a bit younger, actually. And I know that might be surprising, maybe even hard to understand, but I want you to know that this is something I’ve thought a lot about. She makes me happy, and I feel like this relationship is good for me."

After Hugh’s revelation, the silence in the living room felt heavy, almost suffocating. He could see the discomfort etched on both his son’s and daughter’s faces as they struggled to process what he had just shared.

His son, the older of the two, was the first to speak. He leaned back, crossing his arms, and looked at his father with a mix of confusion and discomfort. “Dad,” he began slowly, as if trying to choose his words carefully, “I don’t really know what to say. This… this is kind of weird. I mean, she’s almost our age.”

Hugh felt a sharp pang in his chest at his son’s words, but he nodded, understanding the reaction. “I know it’s unexpected,” Hugh replied, keeping his voice calm. “And I know it’s a big adjustment. But this is important to me, and I wouldn’t have brought it up if I didn’t think it mattered.”

His daughter, the younger of the two, was quieter, her brow furrowed deeply as she tried to make sense of everything. She looked at her father with wide, uncertain eyes. “Dad, are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant. “It’s just… I don’t know how to feel about it. She’s so young, and it feels strange.”

Hugh’s heart ached hearing the uncertainty and discomfort in his daughter’s voice. He wanted to reassure her, to make everything okay, but he knew this was a situation with no easy answers. “I understand it feels strange,” Hugh said gently. “And I don’t expect you to be completely okay with it right away. But I need you to know that this isn’t something I’m taking lightly. I care about her deeply, and she makes me happy in a way I haven’t been in a long time.”

His son exchanged a look with his sister, his expression still troubled. “But what about the fact that she’s closer to our age than yours? Doesn’t that bother you at all?”

Hugh took a deep breath, knowing this conversation was going to be difficult. “It’s something I’ve thought about a lot,” he admitted. “But the connection we have goes beyond age. I know it might seem strange from the outside, but when I’m with her, it feels right. I feel like I’ve found something special, something that I didn’t even know I was missing.”

His daughter bit her lip, still looking conflicted. “But what if it doesn’t work out, Dad? What if she decides she wants someone closer to her own age? Or what if people start talking? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Her words struck Hugh deeply, and he could see the genuine concern in her eyes. “I understand your worries,” Hugh said softly. “And I’ve thought about those things too. But I can’t let fear stop me from pursuing something that makes me happy. Life is short, and I want to make the most of it.”

His son sighed, running a hand through his hair, still struggling to process his father’s words. “I just… I don’t know, Dad. This whole thing is so out of left field. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be happy, but it’s going to take some time for me to wrap my head around this.”

Hugh nodded, his heart heavy but understanding. “I’m not asking you to be okay with it right away,” he said. “All I’m asking is that you try to understand where I’m coming from. And that you give her a chance. She’s important to me, and I want her to be a part of our lives.”

His daughter looked down at her hands, clearly wrestling with her emotions. “I’ll try, Dad,” she said quietly, though her voice lacked conviction. “But it’s going to take some time.”

His son nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I’ll try too. But just… don’t expect us to be totally cool with this right away. It’s a lot to take in.”

Hugh felt a wave of mixed emotions—relief that they were willing to try, but also a deep sadness that they were struggling so much with the news. He had known this wouldn’t be easy, but seeing the uncertainty and discomfort on their faces was harder than he had anticipated.

“I appreciate that,” Hugh said, his voice thick with emotion. “I really do. And I’m here to talk anytime you need to. I don’t want this to come between us.”

After a few more minutes of tense but civil conversation, his children decided to leave. They both hugged their father, but the embraces felt different—tentative, with a sense of distance that hadn’t been there before. Hugh watched them go, his heart heavy with worry about what this might mean for their relationship.

Later that night, Hugh called you. His voice sounded weary, as if the conversation had taken more out of him than he cared to admit. “I talked to them,” he said as soon as you answered. “It didn’t go as well as I’d hoped.”

Your heart sank at his words. “What did they say?” you asked gently, already bracing yourself for the answer.

“They’re weirded out by it,” Hugh admitted, the sadness in his voice clear. “My son said it feels strange because you’re closer to their age than mine, and my daughter is worried I’m going to get hurt. They said they’ll try to understand, but… it’s going to take time.”

You took a deep breath, trying to process what he was telling you. “I’m sorry, Hugh. I never wanted to cause any tension between you and your kids.”

“It’s not your fault,” Hugh said quickly, his tone firm. “This is on me, and I knew it might be difficult. I just didn’t realize how much it would affect them. But I’m not giving up on us. I just… I need to find a way to help them see what I see.”

“We’ll figure it out together,” you said, your voice filled with quiet determination. “We’ll take it slow, and give them the time they need to adjust. I care about you, Hugh, and I care about your kids too. I want this to work for all of us.”

Hugh sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude in his voice. “Thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It’s just… it’s hard, seeing them struggle with this. But I know we can get through it.”

In the days and weeks that followed, the tension between Hugh and his children didn’t fully dissipate. They were polite, but there was a noticeable distance between them, an awkwardness that hadn’t been there before. Hugh did his best to maintain their bond, continuing to spend time with them, but the easy, natural closeness they once shared felt strained.

You found yourself in a challenging position as well. You wanted to give Hugh’s children the space they needed, but you also wanted to show them that you were committed to their father and to making this relationship work. You made an effort to connect with them, to demonstrate that you were more than just a fleeting presence in Hugh’s life, but it was clear that it would take time for them to come around.

Despite the challenges, you and Hugh remained close, your bond growing stronger as you navigated the difficulties together. There were moments of doubt, moments when the weight of it all felt overwhelming, but you both knew that what you had was worth fighting for.

One day, after a particularly tense family gathering, Hugh sat down with you, his expression troubled. “I’m worried that this is going to push them away,” he confessed, his voice filled with a vulnerability that he rarely showed. “I don’t want to lose them, but I also don’t want to lose you. I don’t know how to make this work.”

You reached out, taking his hand in yours. “We’ll keep trying,” you said softly. “It’s not going to be easy, but I believe that with time, they’ll see that this is real. That what we have is important.”

Hugh nodded, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fully disappear. “I hope you’re right. I just want everyone I care about to be okay with this.”

Later that night, after the tense conversation with his kids, Hugh felt an overwhelming need to talk to someone who could help him sort through his emotions. He picked up his phone and called Ryan, hoping for some clarity.

Ryan answered after a couple of rings, his voice cheerful as usual. “Hey, Hugh! What’s up?”

Hugh sighed deeply, the weight of the day pressing down on him. “I had a talk with my kids tonight. Told them about the relationship.”

Ryan’s tone immediately shifted, becoming more serious. “How did that go?”

“Not great,” Hugh admitted, leaning back against the couch. “They’re struggling with it. The age difference is really throwing them off. They’re trying to be supportive, but I can tell they’re uncomfortable.”

Ryan was silent for a moment, processing what Hugh had said. “I figured that might be tough for them,” he finally said. “But, Hugh, i have to ask again… is this really the right relationship for you?”

Hugh’s heart skipped a beat at Ryan’s question, and he felt a wave of doubt start to creep in. “What do you mean now?” he asked.

“I’m not doubting your feelings,” Ryan replied gently. “But there are practical things to consider. Like… what if she wants kids? Are you really ready to be a father again at this stage in your life?”

Hugh went silent, the question hitting him harder than he’d expected. It was something that had been lurking in the back of his mind, but he hadn’t confronted it directly. “I don’t know,” he admitted finally. “I haven’t talked to her about it yet.”

Ryan’s voice was steady, but there was concern there too. “You need to. This isn’t something you can just hope won’t come up. She’s young, Hugh. If she wants kids, that’s a huge part of her life she might be looking forward to. Are you ready to do that all over again? The sleepless nights, the diapers, raising a child from the ground up? Because that’s not just a small part of your life,it’s a whole new chapter.”

Hugh swallowed hard, the reality of Ryan’s words settling in. “I know it’s a big deal,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But I haven’t even asked her if she wants kids. Maybe she doesn’t.”

“And maybe she does,” Ryan countered gently but firmly. “And what then? Are you going to be okay with starting over as a new father? Are you willing to take that on, knowing how much it will change your life? And what about your kids? How are they going to feel about a new sibling who’s closer in age to them than you?”

Hugh leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor. “I honestly don’t know if I’m ready for that. The idea of having more kids… it’s overwhelming. But at the same time, I don’t want to lose what we have.”

Ryan was quiet for a moment, letting Hugh’s words sink in. “Look, man,” he said softly, “I’m not saying you should walk away from her if she wants kids. But you’ve got to be honest with yourself,and with her. If you’re not up for being a father again, that’s something you need to make clear. Because if you’re not on the same page about this, it could lead to a lot of pain down the road, for both of you.”

Hugh nodded, even though Ryan couldn’t see him. “You’re right. I can’t keep avoiding this. I need to talk to her about it, and I need to be honest with myself too. I just… I don’t want to lose her.”

“I get that,” Ryan said, his voice full of empathy. “But sometimes the hardest conversations are the ones that matter the most. You’ve got to figure out what you’re willing to do, and what you’re not. And you’ve got to be okay with the fact that it might mean things don’t turn out the way you want.”

Hugh felt the weight of those words settle in his chest, a mix of fear and uncertainty gnawing at him. “Yeah,” he said finally, his voice heavy with emotion. “I need to talk to her. I can’t keep this to myself any longer.”

“Good,” Ryan replied, his tone supportive. “You’ll figure it out, Hugh. Just make sure you’re doing what’s right for you, and for her. This is too important to leave unresolved.”

As Hugh ended the call, he felt the gravity of the situation pressing down on him. The next step was clear, but it wasn’t going to be easy. He cared deeply for you, but the question of children—and what kind of future you both wanted,was something that couldn’t be ignored. He knew he had to confront it, no matter how daunting the conversation might be

The next day, a heavy weight hung over Hugh, the kind that lingered long after his conversation with Ryan. The questions Ryan had posed echoed relentlessly in his mind, refusing to be silenced. Each reverberation made it clearer to Hugh that he could no longer avoid the inevitable. He needed to have a serious conversation with you, one that had the potential to shape the trajectory of your relationship in ways he couldn’t fully predict. As much as he dreaded this discussion, he knew it was necessary, an unavoidable step if there was to be any future between the two of you.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

When you arrived at his house that afternoon, it was immediately clear that something was off. Hugh, who was typically so warm and lighthearted, greeted you with a tension in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. It was subtle but unmistakable, a storm brewing beneath the surface of his usual calm demeanor. After a few minutes of polite small talk that did little to ease the growing tension, Hugh took your hand in his, the warmth of his touch laced with a new sense of urgency. Without a word, he led you to the living room, where you both sat down on the couch.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Hugh began, his voice steady but carrying a gravity that was impossible to ignore. He squeezed your hand, his gaze searching yours as he struggled to find the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future. And there’s something important we need to discuss.”

Your heart quickened, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “Of course, Hugh. Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out.”

Hugh took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your stomach tighten. “I care about you so much, and I love what we have together. But Ryan brought up some things that I’ve been avoiding, things I didn’t want to face. But I need to be honest with you and with myself.”

You could see the internal battle he was waging, the way his words came slowly, carefully, as if each one had been weighed a thousand times before being spoken aloud.

He hesitated for a moment, then continued, his voice softer now. “The thing is… you’re at a point in your life where you might want things that I’m not sure I’m ready for. Like kids. I’ve already raised mine, and the idea of starting over… it’s a lot to think about. I need to know what you want because if you’re hoping to have children one day, I don’t want to hold you back or disappoint you.”

The sincerity in his words struck you deeply. It was clear how much this conversation cost him, the concern drawn in every line of his face, the way his eyes searched yours for reassurance. You felt a pang of empathy and love for him, seeing how hard he was trying to protect you, even at the cost of his own peace of mind.

You reached out, taking his hand in both of yours, your touch gentle but firm. A reassuring smile played on your lips as you met his worried gaze.

“Hugh,” you said softly, your voice steady and calm, “I’ve thought about this too. I know it’s something we need to talk about, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter to me what the future holds as long as we’re together. If having kids isn’t something you want, then it’s not something I need. I want to be with you, and that’s what’s most important to me.”

A flicker of relief crossed Hugh’s face, though it was tempered by lingering doubt. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to regret anything later on.”

You nodded, your expression unwavering, your eyes locked on his. “I’m sure. I’ve never been more certain of anything. I don’t need children to be happy, Hugh. I just need you.”

For a moment, Hugh just looked at you, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away as your words sank in. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, a silent thank you that spoke volumes more than any words could. “Thank you for saying that,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I just didn’t want to lead you into something that would make you unhappy later on.”

You leaned in closer, resting your head on his shoulder for a brief moment, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. It was a small gesture, but it spoke of trust, of understanding, of the deep connection that had grown between you. You pulled back just enough to look at him, your face inches from his.

“I understand why you’re worried,” you said, your voice soft but resolute. “But I promise you, my happiness comes from being with you. I’m in this for us, not for anything else.”

Hugh’s heart swelled with affection as he gazed at you, his eyes softening with a tenderness that made your own heart flutter. He reached up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering as he cupped your cheek. “I’m so lucky to have you in my life,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

A warm smile spread across your face at his words, and you could feel the tension in the room dissipating, replaced by a comforting sense of mutual understanding. But as you sat there, a playful glint sparked in your eyes, a mischievous idea forming in your mind. Without a word, you shifted, slowly straddling his lap, your movements deliberate and teasing. You could feel his body react to your closeness, the atmosphere between you shifting from serious to something far more primal.

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered in a voice that was both sultry and teasing, “But you know, what if I did stopped taking birth control, and you just breed me like a fucking slut? If you ever want to have babies, my womb is right here.”

You bit your lip, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye, the challenge and desire clear in your expression. The shock on Hugh’s face quickly gave way to laughter, a deep, hearty sound that filled the room. But as his laughter subsided, you felt him growing hard beneath you, the tension between you transforming into something electric, charged with unspoken possibilities.

Hugh cupped your face with one hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he looked up at you with a mix of amusement and arousal. “You’re something else, you know that?” he said, his voice rough with desire.

You grinned, feeling the heat between you intensify, your body responding to his touch. “I know. So, what do you say, Hugh? Want to take me up on that offer?”

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping you firmly as he pulled you even closer. “You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice low and thick with need. “But I’m getting used to it.”

Without another word, you leaned down, capturing his lips in a heated kiss, the intensity between you growing with each passing second. The conversation from moments before faded into the background as your bodies pressed together, the connection between you burning brighter than ever. The future might still be uncertain, but in that moment, all that mattered was the undeniable chemistry you shared, the passion that flared between you, and the love that anchored it all.

Hugh gently scooped you up into his arms, his strength evident in the ease with which he lifted you. His hands were warm against your back, and you felt the security of his embrace as he carried you through the hallway. Each step he took was deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours, a mixture of affection and desire swirling in his eyes. The dim light from the hallway lamps cast a golden glow around you both, heightening the intimacy of the moment.

As he carried you into the bedroom, the door swung open with a gentle push from his foot. The room was a sanctuary, bathed in the soft, silver light of the moon that streamed through the partially drawn curtains. The air was filled with the subtle scent of fresh linen, and the faint hum of the night outside added to the serenity. Hugh set you down on the bed with such care, as if you were something precious, something to be treasured. The mattress yielded under your weight, the plush sheets cool against your skin as you sank into them.

Hovering above you, Hugh's presence was commanding, yet tender. He supported himself on his arms, his face close to yours, and the warmth of his breath brushed against your lips. His eyes, deep and dark, searched yours, finding in them the same longing and desire that burned within him. The world outside ceased to exist, it was just the two of you, entwined in this moment.

Your heart raced as you looked up at him, your gaze filled with a hunger that mirrored his own. With a voice that dripped with seduction, you whispered, "Wouldn't you love to knock me up, daddy? Imagine it… Filling me up with you every single day, feeling your warmth inside me. Watching as my body changes, knowing that it's because of you. My belly growing rounder, fuller, with our child. My breasts swelling, becoming heavier, just for you…"

The words you spoke were laced with an intoxicating blend of innocence and temptation, a fantasy you painted with vivid clarity. Hugh's reaction was immediate, his eyes darkened further, pupils dilating with the intensity of his arousal. He swallowed hard, his breathing growing deeper as he processed what you'd said. He let out a low, almost primal hum of approval, the sound vibrating through the air between you.

"Hmm, that would be nice, yes," he murmured, his voice thick and gravelly with need. There was a flicker of doubt in his expression as he added with a soft chuckle, "But I'm an old man, baby."

You could feel his reluctance, his hesitation born from the years that separated you, yet it did nothing to diminish your desire. If anything, it only fuelled your need to reassure him, to show him that age meant nothing to you. You reached up, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer until his forehead rested against yours. "That's fine," you whispered, your voice tender yet filled with certainty. "I want it all with you, Hugh. Every part of you. Always."

Your words seemed to wash over him, easing the tension from his body. He dipped his head, capturing your lips in a kiss that was as much a promise as it was an expression of his desire. The kiss was slow, deliberate, his lips moving against yours with a gentleness that belied the fire burning within him. His hands began to explore your body, tracing the curves and contours with a reverence that made your skin tingle with anticipation.

He started at your hips, his fingers trailing along the waistband of your clothing before he began to undress you, piece by piece. Each article of clothing was removed with care, as if he were unwrapping a gift he had waited his entire life to open. His eyes followed his hands, drinking in every inch of exposed skin with a hunger that made your breath catch in your throat.

When you were finally bare before him, he paused, his gaze lingering on your chest. The sight of your breasts, soft and inviting, seemed to captivate him. He stared, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and lust, as if he were seeing something sacred. You could feel his breath hitch, the air between you thick with the weight of his desire.

A slow smile spread across your lips as you noticed his fixation. You felt a surge of confidence, knowing how much he adored you, how much he wanted you. With a teasing lilt in your voice, you broke the silence. "Thinking about something, Daddy?"

The question hung in the air, playful yet charged with meaning. Hugh's eyes snapped back to yours, his gaze burning with intensity. For a moment, he said nothing, simply letting the question sink in, letting the desire between you build to a fever pitch. Then, with a low, rumbling chuckle, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "I’m thinking about how much I want to make you mine. Every inch of you."

You gazed up at Hugh, your heart swelling with the intensity of the moment, your voice soft but filled with unshakable certainty. "I'm already yours, Hugh," you whispered, the words slipping from your lips like a sacred vow. The sincerity in your tone seemed to reach deep into his soul, igniting a fire that had been burning for far too long. His eyes darkened with desire, and without another word, he leaned in, his lips finding the delicate curve of your neck.

He kissed you there, his mouth hot against your skin, each press of his lips sending electric shocks of pleasure through your body. He moved slowly, savouring the taste of you, his tongue darting out to tease the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered at the sensation, your body instinctively arching towards him, craving more of his touch.

A low, satisfied hum escaped his lips, the sound vibrating against your neck, sending a wave of warmth straight to your core. "Hmm, I want more of you," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that made your breath hitch. The depth of his need was palpable, wrapping around you like a physical force, making your heart race and your skin tingle with anticipation.

You let out a soft moan, your hands wandering up his broad back, feeling the muscles shift beneath your fingertips. His skin was warm to the touch, and as you traced the contours of his body, you couldn't help but marvel at the man before you,the man who made you feel desired in a way you had never experienced before.

With deliberate movements, Hugh began to undress himself, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reaction as each piece of clothing fell away. First, his shirt, revealing the strong, defined chest that you had always admired. Then, his pants, leaving him gloriously bare before you. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of him, every inch of his body a testament to his strength and vitality.

"You know," you began, your voice laced with admiration as your eyes roamed over his form, "you don't look like an old man at all. That body is amazing." The words came out almost in a reverent whisper, as if you were speaking your thoughts aloud without even realizing it.

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, filling the room with a sense of comfort and familiarity. Leaning down, he captured your lips in a kiss, his mouth soft but insistent against yours. "Thank you, princess," he murmured between kisses, his voice tender yet filled with the heat of his desire.

His hands were on you again, exploring every curve, every dip of your body with a reverence that made you feel cherished and adored. He took his time, mapping out every inch of your skin as if committing it to memory. His touch was electric, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, igniting a burning need deep within you.

Finally, with a smooth, effortless motion, Hugh positioned himself above you. The heat radiating from his body mingled with your own, creating an intoxicating blend of desire and anticipation. As he slid into you, you gasped, the sensation overwhelming in the most delicious way.

"Awe, you're so wet for me," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and satisfaction. He revelled in the way your body responded to him, the way you welcomed him so eagerly. His words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making your body tighten around him in response. You rolled your eyes playfully at his smugness, but the laughter that bubbled up from your throat betrayed your delight.

"Just fuck me already, like you're twenty," you teased, a daring smile playing on your lips. There was a playful challenge in your tone, a provocation that you knew he wouldn't ignore.

Hugh raised an eyebrow, a devilish grin spreading across his face as he accepted your challenge. "You know I fuck you better than any young man can," he chuckled, his voice dripping with confidence and desire. And with that, he began to move, his hips rolling against yours in a rhythm that started slow and deliberate, each thrust measured and precise, designed to drive you wild.

As he moved within you, your mind began to drift, fueled by the fantasies you had been nurturing for so long. The heat between you intensified, and with it, a thought took root in your mind, one you could no longer suppress. You had been toying with the idea for a while now, the thought of what it would be like to let go completely, to give yourself to him in the most primal way possible.

Your breath quickened as the thought grew more insistent, a desire that you could no longer ignore. "Hugh," you breathed, your voice trembling with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

He paused, his movements slowing as he looked down at you, concern flickering in his eyes. "What is it, baby?" he asked, his voice gentle, yet tinged with worry.

You hesitated for a moment, the words caught in your throat, but the intensity of your need overpowered your doubts. "I… I want to stop taking birth control," you confessed, the words spilling out before you could second-guess them. "I want you to cum inside me, for real. I want you to make me pregnant."

The impact of your words hit him like a freight train, and for a moment, he simply stared at you, his brain struggling to process what you had just said. His eyes widened slightly, the intensity of his gaze deepening as the full weight of your confession settled over him.

"You're serious?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest as you reached up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes, Hugh. I want this. I want you to fill me up with your seed, to watch my belly grow with your child. I want to see the way you look at me when you know I've got your baby inside me. I need it."

A primal growl rumbled low in Hugh's throat, his control slipping away as your words broke down the last of his restraint. The thought of you swollen with his child, carrying his legacy, was enough to send his desire spiralling out of control. "Fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice thick with need. "You really want this? You want me to breed you?"

"Yes," you gasped, your body trembling with anticipation. "I want it more than anything. Please, Hugh, give it to me."

That was all he needed to hear. His composure shattered, replaced by an overwhelming urge to claim you, to mark you as his in the most primal way possible. He surged forward, his hips driving into you with a force that made you cry out in pleasure. His movements were no longer controlled, they were wild, frantic, driven by the need to fulfil the promise he had made to you.

"I’m going to fuck you so good," he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. “I'm going to fill you up with my cum until you're dripping with it. You want to be my breeding slut? You want to carry my baby?"

"Yes!" you moaned, your body arching beneath him as he pounded into you with relentless intensity. "I want to be your breeding slut. I want to carry your baby, Hugh!"

His pace quickened, his movements becoming more erratic as he lost himself in the sensation of you wrapped around him. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, deeper, as he thrust into you with a fervor that bordered on desperation. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered filthy things, his breath hot against your skin.

The room was filled with the sounds of your bodies coming together, the wet slap of skin against skin, the creak of the bed beneath you, and your combined moans of pleasure. Hugh's words sent you spiraling, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, you're so amazing" he groaned, his voice hoarse with need. "So fucking perfect. I'm going to cum so deep inside you. You're going to feel me for days, baby."

His words, his relentless pace, everything was too much, and you could feel your climax building, the tension coiling tightly within you. You were close, so close, and you could tell he was too, the way his movements were becoming more frantic, more desperate.

And then, as the pleasure reached a fever pitch, you screamed out in desperation, "Fuck, make me pregnant, Daddy! I wanna have your kids so fucking bad!"

The sound of your voice, the raw need in your words, was his undoing. With a guttural roar, he let go completely, his hips slamming into yours with a ferocity that left you gasping for breath. He drove into you harder, faster, his body shaking with the force of his impending release.

You felt the world slip away, your vision blurring as the pleasure overwhelmed you, your body tightening around him as you reached your peak. The orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, pulling you under, making you scream his name as your body convulsed beneath him.

Hugh followed you over the edge, his release crashing into him with the same ferocity. He buried himself deep inside you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as he spilled into you, filling you up with his seed. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of warmth that spread through your core, marking you as his in the most primal way possible.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the only sounds in the room were your ragged breaths and the pounding of your hearts, still echoing in your ears. Hugh collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his body still trembling from the intensity of what had just happened. His chest rose and fell heavily, and he buried his face in your hair, pressing soft kisses to the top of your head as you both came down from the euphoric high.

Your body felt like it was floating, still tingling with the aftershocks of your climax. The warmth of Hugh's embrace grounded you, and you nestled closer into his side, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your cheek. The room was filled with a heavy, heady silence, both of you too overwhelmed to speak, lost in the aftermath of the storm you'd just weathered together.

After what felt like an eternity, Hugh finally broke the silence, his voice still rough with lingering desire. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern lacing his tone as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. His dark eyes searched yours, seeking reassurance, a flicker of worry crossing his face as if he feared he might have gone too far.

You smiled softly, lifting your hand to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, your touch tender as you reassured him. "More than okay," you whispered, your voice still breathless. "That was incredible, Hugh. I've never felt anything like that."

His eyes softened, the corners crinkling with a smile as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment as if savoring the feel of you. "Good," he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and comforting. "I just… you drive me wild, you know that?"

Your heart swelled at his words, and you nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. You felt the same way about him,he brought out a side of you that was uninhibited, raw, and utterly devoted to him. It was exhilarating, and you craved more.

As you lay there, still entwined in each other's arms, the reality of what you'd just done began to settle in. You'd crossed a line, opened a door that couldn't easily be closed, and the thought thrilled you to your core. You'd asked him to make you pregnant, to fill you with his child, and he'd done it with a fervor that spoke to a deep, primal desire within him.

Hugh was the first to break the silence again, his voice soft but serious as he held you close. “So… do you really want kids after all?” His question was gentle, but it carried the weight of something much deeper.

You took a deep breath, considering your words carefully. “I want us to be happy,” you said finally, your voice soft but firm. “And if that means having kids, then maybe we’ll get there eventually. But I’m also scared, Hugh. Scared of what it would mean for you, for us. We have to think about your age, about the time we have…”

He nodded, his eyes serious as he listened to you. “I know,” he murmured. “I think about that too. But we have to face the reality of where we are right now. We can’t ignore it.”

The room was filled with a heavy silence as you both contemplated the gravity of the situation. It wasn’t just about desire or love, it was about time, about the ticking clock that neither of you could stop. You loved Hugh with all your heart, but you couldn’t deny the fear that gnawed at you, the fear that time might not be on your side.

After a long pause, you sighed, leaning your head against his chest as you tried to push aside the worries that plagued you. “Maybe we’ll just see what happens, Hugh,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is just the beginning of our journey together. We don’t have to decide everything right now.”

Hugh’s arms tightened around you, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re right,” he agreed, his voice thick with emotion. “We’ve got time to figure things out. But it’s something we’ll need to think about, sooner rather than later.”

You nodded, the weight of his words settling over you like a blanket. The reality of your situation was something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you wanted to. But for now, you were together, and that was what mattered most.

Hugh shifted slightly, his hand running gently up and down your back as he continued to speak. “Before we even get to that point, we need to think about other things too,” he said, his tone more serious now. “Like announcing our relationship to the public. We’ll need to do it slowly, subtly.”

You smiled at his words, appreciating the thoughtfulness behind them, but you couldn’t help the small pang of anxiety that tugged at the back of your mind. The idea of going public with your relationship was daunting, especially considering the scrutiny you both would face. But you knew it was something that would have to happen eventually.

“I know,” you replied, your voice steady but tinged with an underlying tension. “It makes sense, taking things slow. We have to be careful.”

But even as you said the words, the reality of what you were facing began to sink in. The public aspect of your relationship, the challenges of starting a family later in life, it all felt overwhelming, like a storm gathering on the horizon. You tried to push the thoughts aside, to focus on the here and now, but they lingered, a constant reminder of the complexities that lay ahead.

Hugh seemed to sense your unease, and he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your temple in a gesture of comfort. “We’ll handle it together,” he promised, his voice firm and reassuring. “Whatever comes our way, we’ll face it as a team.”

His words were meant to soothe, and in many ways, they did. But they also served as a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead, challenges that you couldn’t ignore. You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to focus on the warmth of Hugh’s embrace, on the love that you knew would carry you through whatever came next.

“I know we will,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “But it’s just… a lot to think about.”

Hugh nodded, his lips pressing another soft kiss to your forehead before he settled back into the pillows, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “One step at a time, baby,” he murmured. “We don’t have to have all the answers right now.”

His words were a balm to your anxious thoughts, and you let out a small sigh of relief, allowing yourself to relax in his arms. The road ahead might be uncertain, but for now, you were together, and that was enough.

You smiled softly, feeling the tension begin to ease as you let yourself focus on the present moment, on the steady rhythm of his breathing. “We’ll figure it out, Hugh,” you said quietly. “No matter what, we’ll figure it out.”

He pressed a final, lingering kiss to your forehead before settling back into the pillows, his arms still wrapped securely around you. “Yes, we will,” he agreed, his voice filled with quiet determination.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you held onto that thought, letting it anchor you in the uncertain waters of the future. You didn’t have all the answers, and you didn’t know what lay ahead, but you knew that whatever it was, you would face it together, one step at a time.

taglist (dm if u wanna be added): @ermlady @elloredef @haytchee @melaninjoys @megangovier @blue2jay @hearts4suri @narniabusinessbitch @jadenlyday25 @getmeoutofhell @rockytheluver @stark-ironman @shellbilee @kurcoswife @ru-kru

[stevie-petey]

episode five: the nina project

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.” “Five more minutes?” “Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home.  Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

Summary: you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: mentions of blood, panic attack, , swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n

Words: 7.2k

Before you swing in: hey gang ! i present chapter 5, aka my least favorite ep of season 4 </3 however, she was very fun to write and i enjoyed twisting some scenes together ;) enjoy, thank yall for waitin !

–

“Hey, bee.”

The line is quiet.

You sound tired, you know Jonathan will hear the exhaustion in your voice, and he’ll worry. 

“I, uh. I miss you.” And you do. 

You’re in the Wheeler’s kitchen, Nancy and the others are down in the basement, trying to pretend that tonight they’ll fall asleep. The reality is that you’re all too afraid to fall asleep. The terror of what could happen in the dark ensures this. 

Steve sits on the counter across from you. He stares down at his hands, picks at his nails. He doesn’t want to be here, he doesn’t want to hear whatever you have to tell Jonathan. When you demanded to call him, Steve had originally denied you. He didn’t understand why you’d want to talk to him or why you’d risk not having your walkman on after what happened with Max. 

But then you’d broken down into tears and Steve gave in.

“Listen, I know we haven’t talked in a while.” To think that four days without hearing Jonathan’s voice is now considered a while saddens you. For years you couldn’t go more than a few hours without his voice. “But, um. It’s been… it’s been awful, without you.”

I could die tomorrow and I can’t remember what your hand felt like within mine.

A tear falls down your face and you wipe it away. You’re so tired of crying. “I don’t… I don’t know how much you remember, the last time we spoke. I just-I’ve had the worst week of my life and I could really use your voice right now.”

Jonathan is still the one you run to. He always will be. 

The line remains quiet. 

“Please, can you just… call me? I–” breath catching in your throat, you choke on the words that simmer on your tongue. “I’m really scared, bee.” 

This is the first time you’ve ever spoken the words out loud. They’re whispered, they come out hushed, as if afraid someone will overhear and call you weak. 

The voicemail line beeps, indicating that you’ve used up all your time to record the message. Numb, you place the phone against the wall. 

Steve looks up, sensing the conversation as drawn to a close. He stands up and wraps you in his arms. You’re cold to the touch. It unnerves him. You’ve always been so warm, so full of heat. “Did he… what did Jonathan say?”

Your head drops against his chest. “He didn’t answer. Voicemail.”

“Oh.”

The silence drags on a painfully long time. You reside in Steve’s arms, seeking comfort in whatever touch you allow from him. Your headphones, which rest against your neck, dig into Steve’s uncomfortably. Clearing his throat, he taps them with his finger. “Music?”

You nod, too tired to fight him. Ever since the cemetery, Steve and Dustin have insisted that you never take your headphones off. Music is what saved Max; they’re convinced they can keep you out of harm’s reach if you listen to your favorite song as well. 

“The tape, please?” You mumble softly to Steve, slowly lifting your arm to point to the kitchen table.

Understanding what you’re asking, he quickly lets go of you to retrieve it. Grabbing the old tape, his fingers find your walkman buried in your pocket. Steve puts the tape inside, eyes skimming over the writing that resides on it.

For bug.

“Will you ever tell Nancy?” He finds himself asking, unaware that the question had even been on his mind. 

It was only days ago that Steve’s biggest problem had been Jonathan’s vague question of “what if”. Now he stands in Nancy’s kitchen, cradling your body, wondering just how many more hours he has left with you. 

You rub your head tiredly. “I will, it’s just…”

I could be dead by tomorrow.

The words go unsaid, hanging in the air between you and Steve.

He stares down at you. Guilt twists in his chest. He’s caught between you and Nancy, between saving you and sparing you. A strand of hair falls in your eyes. Steve brushes it aside, his cracked lips press against your forehead. 

“Hey,” Lucas stands awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He looks between you and Steve, a sad, yet nervous look in his eyes. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Max told me to come get you, Y/N.”

“Is everything okay?” You ask worriedly, stepping out of Steve’s arms. 

Lucas sees your worry and immediately raises his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just five seconds away from murdering Dustin. He keeps trying to turn her music all the way up and it’s hurting her ears.”

A ghost of a smile crosses your face. In his own, albeit flawed way, Dustin is trying to show how much he cares for you and Max. “I’ll talk to him.”

While Lucas nods with relief, you kiss Steve’s cheek and wish him a soft goodbye. The two boys are left alone in the kitchen. Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler have long since gone to bed. Holly, too. 

Steve clears his throat. Lucas hasn’t left yet, and Steve doesn’t really know what to do. It’s been an exhausting few days. All he wants to focus on right now is you; already your absence makes his body weak. 

“How do you do it?” Lucas is so quiet that Steve almost doesn’t hear him at first. 

“What?”

“How do you do it?” Lucas asks again, this time with more urgency in his voice. He’s looking at Steve, his body stoic. There are tears in his eyes, though Steve doesn’t say anything. “How can you love Y/N and not want her to die?”

The question stuns Steve. 

Lucas stares up at him and for a moment he looks like the twelve year old kid he met all those years ago. Only now he’s fifteen, taller than ever before, and he’s experienced more loss than any kid ever should. 

Steve forgets, sometimes. How young they all are.

He sighs. “Look, Lucas–”

“I don’t think I can do it.” The boy leans against the counter, his entire body weight threatens to collapse. “I just, I love Max so much. And seeing her today… she almost-she almost–”

Lucas inhales suddenly. He doesn’t allow himself to cry, he doesn’t want Max to see the tear stains later. He shakes his head, instead. “What do you do, when the person you live for is already set on dying?”

Steve wants to tell him that you and Max aren’t dying. He wants to tell the teen that they’ve faced worse monsters than Vecna. They’ve escaped Russian lairs and navigated tunnels rooted with poisonous particles. They saved Will, closed a gate that was an endless abyss. 

But none of it amounts to the loss they’d feel if you and Max died; Lucas is the only one who truly understands this. 

So Steve doesn’t lie to him. 

Instead, he says, “You hold their hand.”

And that’s all they can do. 

–

Everyone takes turns watching over you and Max that night. It was Nancy’s idea, one you were entirely against. 

“Max is the one who had the vision, I don’t need you guys–”

“Shut up, Y/N.” 

The argument was over before it even really began. Dustin had shoved your headphones back on and turned the volume so high that you nearly winced. Steve laughed before dragging you over to the couch and forcing you to lay with him. 

“I’ll be first watch for Y/N.”

Robin had rolled her eyes. “I know death is like, totally evident. But you disgust me.”

Soft laughter rippled through everyone, but soon the shadows fell and night took over. Despite your protesting and insistence that the Beatles would keep you up all night, you somehow fall asleep against Steve’s chest. 

It’s the first time you’ve slept through the night in weeks.

– 

You wake up to Nancy shouting at Dustin.

“Then where is she?” She exclaims, shaking his shoulders.

Still half asleep, it takes you a few moments to understand what’s going on. “Where’s who?” You ask through a yawn, rubbing your eyes. 

“Max!” Nancy glares at your brother. “She isn’t down here, Dustin was supposed to keep watch.”

Your heart stops. Immediately you sit up, ignoring Steve’s groaning as you forcefully shove against his chest to stand. Even though you roughly pull from his grasp, he’s back asleep in seconds. “What do you mean she isn’t here?”

“I swear I just dozed off for like…” Dustin looks down at his watch, worried and guilty, and his face pales when he realizes what he’s done. “An hour.”

“Dustin!” You screech, now panicking as well. Before he can say anything else, you’re already running up the steps to find Max. Nancy follows close behind. “I swear to God, if she’s hurt–”

Max sits at the dining room table, head down with her headphones on. You and Nancy let out heavy sighs of relief while Dustin rolls his eyes in annoyance. 

Mrs. Wheeler greets you in the kitchen. “Good morning, guys!” When she notices you holding your chest, she frowns slightly. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Nancy breathes out, her own nerves finally settling. “Everything’s… okay.”

“Very okay.” You chime in, forcing a happy smile on your face. Pointing to the pancakes on the stove, you hum with gratitude. “Especially now that I know you’ve made your famous pancakes, Mrs. Wheeler.”

“Aw, you’re very kind, Y/N.” The woman gushes. She grabs a plate and starts piling the pancakes on. “Here, take as many as you’d like. You know, I think it’s sweet that you guys are sticking together like this.”

Mr. Wheeler flicks his newspaper with a huff. “Could try sticking together at a different house for a change.”

Nancy ignores her father and walks towards where Max is sitting. You and Dustin share a look, both of you despise the man. Shoving a pancake into your mouth, you moan dramatically. “But where else would I get such fantastic food, Ted?”

He glares at you while Mrs. Wheeler chuckles. “You know you kids are welcomed here anytime.”

“Totally, you’re like family.” Dustin smiles kindly at her before pointing to the remaining, untouched pancakes. “May I?”

Mrs. Wheeler readily offers your brother a plate and he eagerly starts stacking as much as food as he can. You grab a few more pancakes for yourself; they’ve always been your favorite. Mr. Wheeler notices you grabbing more and he narrows his eyes. “Yeah, why not? Take us for all we’re worth.”

“You heard the man.” You nod at Dustin, catching his eye.

Understanding immediately, your brother smiles even wider. “Okay!” 

Together, the two of you grab the remaining stack of pancakes and throw them onto your plates. Mr. Wheeler watches in disdain, his coffee cup raised just before his mouth. Seeing the mug, you gasp. “Oh! Mrs. Wheeler, could I possibly bother you for some coffee as well? I know Mr. Wheeler really values his expensive roast, but with everything happening this week…”

You stare up at the woman, eyes wide and innocent. Mrs. Wheeler places a hand against her heart and coos at you. “Oh, of course you can have some of Ted’s coffee, honey. Let me fix it right up for you.”

“You’re too kind.” You thank her, shoving yet another pancake into your mouth. Speaking through the food, you turn to her husband. “Thanks, Ted!”

Dustin snickers while the man clenches his jaw. Satisfied, you make your way over to the table and join Max and Nancy. 

“Holly let me borrow some of her crayons.” Max explains as you sit down. There are papers scattered all over the table. “We’ve been having fun all morning, right, Holly?”

The young girl hums in agreement, not looking up from her Lite Brite. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, Holly.” You pinch her cheek, causing her to giggle. It’s rare to see Holly outside of the Wheeler house. You’ve babysat her a few times over the years, and she enjoys the cookies you make, but your interactions have always been limited. She seems to like you though, which pleases you. “Can I draw as well?”

Holly nods enthusiastically and quickly hands you a crayon and paper. “Here!”

“Thank you,” you accept the blue crayon and start to doodle something, keeping the girl distracted. As she colors with you, you finally look at the drawings that litter the table.

When your eyes land on them, you forget how to breathe for a moment. They’re horrible, filled with blood red. Ruined landscapes surround bodies wrapped in vines. The figures are twisted, disjointed. 

“You drew these, Max?” The thought terrifies you. 

“Is this what you saw last night?” Nancy asks softly, her expression mirrors your horrified one. 

Max shifts uncomfortably. “It’s supposed to be. I, uh. Thought it’d be easier to draw it out than to explain it, but… not so much.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathe out, reaching across the table to grab her hand. 

Nancy touches one of the drawings, this one depicting Fred’s and Chrissy’s corpses. “Is that…?”

“It was like they were on display or something.”

You nearly gag. “Oh, my God.”

Max doesn’t look at you. “And then there was this red fog everywhere. It was like a dream. A nightmare.”

Nancy asks if Vecna could just be trying to scare her, but Max doesn’t seem sure. She explains how he originally used Billy, but last night felt different. “He seemed surprised, almost. Like he didn’t want me there.”

You frown at this. “Then that would mean Fred and Chrissy never made it to wherever you were. That Vecna didn’t take them there.”

“Maybe you infiltrated his mind.” Dustin offers as an explanation, now joining at the table. “He invaded your mind, right? Is it that big of a leap to suggest you somehow wound up in his?”

“It makes sense,” you bite your lip, abandoning the drawing you were working on with Holly. 

“Like Freddie Krueger’s boiler room.” Dustin adds, oddly excited about the idea. When Holly doesn’t understand the reference, your brother readily explains. “He’s a super burned-up dude with razors for fingers.”

“Dustin,” you try to get his attention, worried he’ll frighten the kid.

But of course he continues. “And he kills you in your dreams–”

“Dustin.” It takes smacking his head to finally shut him up. He yelps in pain, cowering, but you glare at him. “You’re such an idiot sometimes.”

“She wanted to know about Freddie Krueger!”

“She’s a kid.”

“But–”

You hit Dustin’s shoulder this time. “Apologize and tell Holly that Freddie Krueger isn’t real.”

After begrudgingly apologizing to Holly and explaining that it’s all just a movie, Dustin adjusts his hat and continues the conversation from earlier. “Anyways, just think about it. What if Max somehow unlocked a backdoor to Vecna’s world?”

“You mean, like another gate?” You’re so tired of goddamn gates.

Dustin shrugs. “Possibly? Who knows, maybe the answer we’re looking for is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing.” He stares down at the picture he’s picked up and scowls. “God, we need Will.”

“For his artistic abilities or his connection to the Upside Down?” You ask, looking around the table. “Because either way, I agree.”

Max shakes her head, annoyed. “I tried calling them again this morning, but it’s the same busy signal.”

“I wasn’t able to get through last night, either.” You admit, watching with slight curiosity as Nancy starts compiling all the drawings. “Anything catching your eye, Wheeler?”

“Is this a window?” She asks Max, who quickly says yes. “Stained glass with roses?”

Max perks up. “Yeah. See? I’m not so terrible after all.”

Sipping your coffee, you wave the mug at her, unconvinced. “Your composition could use some work.”

She glares at you, but Nancy doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Instead, she starts sorting through the drawings with vigor. “Well, it helps that I’ve seen it before.”

Before anyone can question what she means, Nancy starts folding pieces together and arranging them. At first you’re confused. You don’t understand what she’s trying to do. But as the pieces start to take shape and you recognize what she’s doing, you drop your crayon in shock.

“It’s pieces of a house.” Max realizes as well.

“Holy shit…”

Nancy grabs a marker and outlines the house’s shape. She fills in the windows, adds details that she shouldn’t know about. “Not just any house.” 

She folds another drawing, careful with its edges. The drawing becomes a clock, its center the rose stained glass. Nancy drops the folded up grandfather clock in the center of the house she’s created. It lands with a quiet, yet final, thud.

Seeing the house unnerves you, and you shiver slightly. Nancy notices your unease and her eyes soften with dread. “It’s Victor Creel’s house.”

You suck in a breath and Nancy is already leaving the table. Dustin looks at you, confused, before calling out to her. “Where’re you going?”

“To wake the others.”

“I just wanted pancakes,” you mumble sadly, quickly shoving the breakfast aside so that you can follow after Nancy. 

She’s already shaking Lucas awake by the time you catch up. Robin is slouched against the coffee table and you take pity on her. Nudging her softly, you ease her awake. “Hey, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

“Why does my neck hurt?” She groans, eyes still closed.

You laugh. “Because you decided to sleep against a table, dummy.”

“Why’d you let me do that?”

“Blame Steve, not me.” You kiss her forehead, leaving her to wake up more on her own. Nancy has finally managed to rouse Lucas, so you turn to where Steve still sleeps soundly on the couch. He looks so young when he sleeps. His delicate features aren’t clouded by the worry he always seems to carry with him.

The morning sun seeps through the only window in the basement and basks against Steve’s face. He’s a warm honey-orange in the glow, and your chest constricts in a sickly sweet way that you’ve come to love. Walking over to him slowly, you press yourself against him and litter kisses across his face.

Steve scrunches his nose, surprised by your sudden body heat. “Y/N?”

“Nancy may have connected Victor Creel and Vecna.” You tell him in lieu of good morning. 

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times as he yawns. You don’t think he’s heard you, he’s never been a morning person. “What…?”

His confusion is adorable and you can’t help but press yet another kiss to his nose. “Wake up, honey.”

“Five more minutes?”

“Nancy seemed pretty alarmed–oof!” Steve’s arms wrap around you and pull you into his chest. He’s overly warm from sleep, his cologne is faint, but still it feels like home. 

Steve nestles against you and sighs, content. “Much better.”

You know that Nancy will be upset you’re taking so long, you know you should be next to Max, making sure her headphones are on, but you can’t bring yourself to pull away from Steve. You know you’ve asked so much from him lately; expected more from Steve than you know he’s willing to give you. And so, for now, you indulge him, risking a kiss before the others see.

Steve kisses you back; he always kisses you back. His lips move against yours, languid and slow, and for a moment everything is okay again between you.

– 

“Nancy, you know I trust your judgment,” you poke your head through the trunk’s gap and find the girl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. You’re in the back of the car with Steve and Dustin while Nancy drives. “But do we really have to do this?”

“It’s the only way we’ll get answers.” She sighs, although she also looks uneasy as her car comes to a stop. Nancy parks and everyone silently gets out. 

In front of you is an old, dilapidated house. Its shutters are boarded up, the blue paint has long since chipped away and rusted over. The yard before it is a mess; weeds grow everywhere and old debris litters the green. No one has touched this house in years, maybe even decades.

“The Creel house,” you murmur to yourself. The wind around you picks up, a chill hangs in the air. Every nerve inside your body stands on edge, screaming at you to run away. There’s something ominous, dangerous even, about this house. 

You don’t like any part of this.

“Yeah, that’s not creepy.” Steve voices what everyone is thinking.

Max sees your discomfort and she nudges you softly. “Hey, it’s just a stupid house.”

Shame washes over you. Max shouldn’t be the one offering comfort. It should be you reassuring her, not the other way around. Swallowing thickly, you nod at the girl before following the others. 

When you get closer to the house, it becomes clear that you’ll have to break in. A padlock rests against the boarded up door. Nails are rusted into its wood, sealing the horrors within the house. Steve groans. “Oh, joy.”

“I brought hammers, we can try to pry the nails out.” Nancy says, as if it’s perfectly normal to bring hammers with you to a haunted house.

“Of course you brought hammers.”

Nancy ignores you and runs back to the car, quickly returning with the tools. She hands one to Steve, who wastes no time digging into the nails and pulling them out of the wood. Nancy joins him, but it’s an achingly slow process.

“What exactly are we supposed to be looking for in this shithole?” Steve grunts, pulling off yet another nail.

“We’re not sure,” Nancy admits, wincing slightly at a particularly difficult nail. “We just know this house is important to Vecna.”

“Sure, so let’s bring Max and Y/N to a place from Vecna’s red soup mind world.”

You flick Steve’s head, sending Nancy an apologetic frown. “He’s just upset he couldn’t sleep in today.”

“Maybe the house holds a clue to where Vecna is.” Dustin suggests. “Why he’s back, why he killed the Creels. And how to stop him before he comes back for Max, or before he tries to go after Y/N.”

“We’re stopping him before he comes back for Max.” You remind everyone, an edge in your voice.

The group is quiet for a moment. Steve and Nancy share a concerned look with one another, something unspoken passes between them. The look upsets you, but you don’t have time to care. Eventually the silence becomes too much for Lucas, and he hesitantly asks if anyone thinks Vecna is actually inside the house.

“Guess we’ll find out.” Max says, looking at you briefly. The last nail falls, and together Steve and Nancy pull the board off the doorframe. It lands with a loud thud on the porch, sending fallen leaves and dirt into the air. 

You cough. “Christ.”

“Sorry, angel.” Steve looks remorseful, but you wave him off. He faces the door and twists the knob. It doesn’t budge. “Should I knock, see if anybody’s home?”

“No need,” Robin calls out, and it’s only then that you realize she’s no longer beside you but rather halfway in the front yard. She’s holding up a brick, a wicked smile on her face. “I found a key.”

“Oh dear God.” Your eyes widen. Steve tugs at your jacket as soon as Robin throws the brick. You fall against his chest, heart pounding. The stained glass shatters. Poking your head through the broken glass, you breathe out. “Nice, Robin.”

She bows. “I try.”

Steve gently pushes you aside so that he can reach his arm through the hole. He’s careful not to touch the jagged edges of the glass. Finding the knob on the other side, he twists it roughly, unlocking the door.

He’s the first to go in, and he lets out a low whistle. “Jesus.”

You follow after him, turning your flashlight on in the process. The stench of mildew is what you notice first. It’s poignant, intermixed with the scent of dust and discarded furniture. The house is filthy, covered in cobwebs; it’s practically frozen in time. 

Lucas tries to turn a light on, but it’s useless. Everyone turns their flashlights on, and Steve looks around, bewildered. “Where’d everyone get those?”

Dustin turns to him and lets out a surprised huff when he realizes Steve doesn’t have anything in his hands. “Do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child.”

Steve stares at him and you roughly hit your brother’s chest. He can be such a jerk sometimes, you don’t understand where this shift has come from. “Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Thanks, Y/N.” Steve accepts the spare flashlight you hand him while Dustin rubs the spot where you hit him, tossing his bag to the ground. 

You walk deeper into the house, scanning your flashlight over the furniture strewn throughout. Draped cloth covers them. A mirror stands before you, its frame a rusted gold. You find a girl in its reflection, and for a moment you almost don’t recognize that it’s you. 

“Hey, guys?” Max calls out to everyone, catching your attention. She’s standing in front of something, an uneasy look on her face. “You all see that, right?”

She’s pointing her flashlight at a grandfather clock. You stumble back when you see it, breath catching. The bones in your body scream at you to run away. “Is that…?”

You can’t bring yourself to finish the question, but Max understands anyways. She nods, eyes never leaving the grandfather clock, silently confirming that it’s the one she saw in her vision. 

“I don’t like this.” You turn to the group. None of you should be here, you had no right to enter the abandoned house. 

“C’mon, Y/N. I mean, it’s just a clock, right?” Robin shrugs half-heartedly. Before you can stop her, she steps closer to it and wipes her hand against its glass. Dust smears away. “Just an old clock.”

Steve isn’t convinced. “Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?”

“Please don’t call him a wizard.” If you’re going to die, you’d rather it be at the hand of some dangerous, other dimensional creature. Not a wizard. 

“Sorry, but what if he’s like, I don’t know. A clockmaker or something?” 

Dustin breathes heavily through his nose. “I think you cracked the case, Steve.”

“All I know is that the answers are here.” Nancy looks around, not sounding as convincing as she’d like. “Somewhere.”

“You really want us to stay here?” You ask her, slight resentment in your voice. You trust Nancy, you always have, but something feels wrong about all of this. There’s this voice, screaming in your head, to get out. To leave, never return; the voice won’t leave, and you’re afraid it’ll rip your skull to pieces soon. 

Nancy offers you a reassuring smile. She understands your fear, that she’s asking a lot from you and Max right now. She’s placed you in the heart of the monster that wants you to die. “Everyone will stick together, no one will be alone. We’ll stay in groups. I promise.”

“But–”

“Robin, upstairs.” Nancy instructs, pointing towards the steps for the girl to follow her. They’re gone in seconds, already off on their own adventure yet again. Your throat feels gummy with fear. 

Max grabs Lucas’ hand and rushes off without another word. Steve and Dustin are left with you. They exchange words, bickering about something, though you don’t process what they’re saying. They wander off somewhere, unaware that you’re lost in your panic. Breath spiking rapidly, your muscles tense together, prepared to run. You need to leave. This isn’t safe. You’re going to die.

Light headed, you blindly fall against the stairs behind you. You’re struggling to breathe, the room spins. Desperate, your head falls towards your knees. Curling into yourself, you try to steady your breathing. You think you’re having a panic attack.

In through your nose. 

Out through your mouth. 

Except your breath gets stuck in your throat and blood drips from your nose. Frantic, you harshly wipe at your face, smearing the blood even more. 

Your first nosebleed. Another one of the symptoms. No one can know about this. 

The grandfather clock looms over you; it taunts you. 

“Hey, Dustin. You there?” A voice breaks through your panicked haze. “Remember me?”

They’re familiar. You know the person, you know you do. Carefully, you lift your head up. Looking around, you try to find the source of the voice. 

“Hey, if anyone’s there, I really think I might be in a bit of trouble here.”

It’s Dustin’s bag. 

“Wheeler? Anybody?”

“Eddie?” You rasp, barely able to pronounce his name. Your mouth is numb, your body still stuck in its terrified state. You have to press the walkie close to your lips, too weak to say anything else. 

“Henderson?” While Eddie is relieved someone answered him, he’s surprised that it’d been you. “Can you-can you get your brother? I’m kinda in deep shit.”

Your stomach twists at the anxiety in his voice. “He’s not with me.”

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Jason–” Static comes through, cutting off whatever Eddie is trying to tell you. “They-it’s not–”

The static intensifies. You hit the walkie, frustrated. “Hello?”

“–Boat and I think–” Eddie cuts in and out in a dizzying manner. “Here, and they’re–holes!”

“Holes?” None of what he’s saying makes any sense. “Boats? Are you-are you trying to tell me that there are holes in the boat?”

“No!” Eddie screeches, but then the broadcast goes out completely. 

You stare down at the walkie, brows knit together in confusion. “What the fuck?” 

But Eddie doesn’t respond. It’s quiet again. 

With a huff, you toss the walkie back into Dustin’s bag and sling it over your shoulder. At the very least, the bizarre conversation with Eddie was enough to pull you out of whatever spiral you’d been in. Steve and Dustin will be looking for you soon, probably even send out a search party if you don’t follow them upstairs. 

“‘The world is full of obvious things,’” Dustin’s horrible British accent greets you when you finally find him upstairs. He’s standing with Steve in a random room, though the older teen doesn’t look particularly pleased. “‘Which nobody by any chance ever observes.’”

Steve looks at your brother as if he’s grown a second head. You lean against the doorway, smiling slightly. “It’s a Sherlock Holmes quote, Steve.”

Both boys whip their heads around to face you. Dustin looks shocked, while Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling you. “Were you-were you alone?”

“Dude, how could you?” Dustin shoves his chest, already blaming him for abandoning you. “You know we can’t just leave her alone, she’s practically patient zero!” 

Steve slaps Dustin’s hands away and reels back to yell at him, but you step between them. “Okay, first of all, I’m cursed. Not infectious. Second of all, you both wandered off without me, but I’m not a goddamn child. I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah, but–”

You hold up your walkman up to Dustin’s face, shutting him up. “I also have this, in case you two idiots forgot.” 

“That’s great,” Steve responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “That’s real great. Totally reassuring that your life rests in a walkman.”

“Take it or leave it, Harrington.”

“Actually, can we go back to you knowing Sherlock Holmes? I’m dating a nerd. That can’t be good for my image.”

Dustin snorts. He pats Steve’s chest, already walking away. “Yeah, okay, buddy. Your ‘image’.” 

Steve scoffs at him and you pull the two boys away. “Stop being annoying, we’re supposed to be looking for clues or whatever the hell Nancy told us to do.”

No one argues, and the three of you split up. Dustin wanders towards one side of the room, you make sure to keep an eye on him as he looks around. You go with Steve, following him to the other side. 

A vent catches Steve’s eye. He nods towards it, alerting you of it as well. You shrug, indifferent. He bends down, opening it to reveal a collection of jars with twigs and debris inside. You make a face. “Gross.”

Steve reaches inside, picking up one of the jars. He brings it closer, aiming his flashlight to illuminate its contents. When the light reveals dead spiders inside, your heart lurches fearfully. You’re fucking terrified of spiders. 

And then, naturally, one begins crawling up Steve’s arm.

You scream, your fear alerting him of the insect. Steve drops the jar and quickly swats at his shoulder, stumbling backwards. He’s freaking out, so are you. You’re hitting his shoulder as you scream, stuck between wanting to help him and wanting to leave him for dead. 

“Stop!” You screech, falling backwards as well.

Steve doesn’t hear you, breaking through the doorway, before the two of you collide into another body. “Woah!” 

Nancy’s arm steadies you, concern etches her face. “What’s wrong?” 

“There was a spider,” Steve speaks for you, panting. He knows your fear of the creature. He brushes at his jacket, as if he can still feel it crawling upon him. “It was a black widow.”

Your heartbeat is in your chest. Looking at the door you crashed through, you topple forward and slam it shut. “Fuck this room.”

“That bad, huh?” Nancy can’t hide her laugh. She feels bad that you had to experience a black widow, but your almost childish reaction amuses her. 

“Fuck spiders.” Is all you can say. 

Nancy starts to laugh again, but stops mid-way. “Oh, oh no.” Her hand reaches towards Steve, her fingers find his hair. 

Steve flinches away, both from shock that she’s even touching him and from the idea that there’s something residing in his hair. “Is there something? Shit, okay.” He instinctively moves towards you, freaking out, but Nancy gently chides him. 

“Stop moving, come here.” She stands behind him now, her fingers still in his hair. Softly tussling the strands, you watch as she gently plucks a cobweb. “I got it.”

It’s the way her voice softens when she speaks to Steve, the delicate way her fingers course through his hair as if she’s always done this. You suppose, in a way, that the delicacy comes from practiced ease. She used to do it all the time. 

Unable to stop yourself, you raise your eyebrows. Something twinges in your chest. An icey, red hot feeling that you despise. 

Nancy must sense that she’s upset you, because she awkwardly clears her throat and snatches her hand away. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, fearful she’s crossed a line.

Steve steps away, already back by your side.

“If there’s a spider in Steve’s hair, you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and the babies spill out.” Robin suddenly appears, cackling at her own joke. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Steve hisses at her, patting his head, now slightly paranoid. 

Robin leaves just as suddenly as she arrived, her laughter echoing in the hallway. Steve looks at you, and you merely shrug. “It’s Robin, what can you expect?”

“She’s got problems.” He huffs. When Nancy agrees, Steve jumps at the opportunity to lessen the iciness he feels between you and her. He wishes things were how they used to be, back before feelings complicated everything. “It’s, uh. Cool that you and Robin are friends now.”

Nancy doesn’t say anything, and you busy yourself with running your hands over the expanse of Steve’s back. You do it because you’re worried Nancy may have missed a few cobwebs, though a part of you knows that you also do it to show her that you can. That Steve allows your touch, leans into it. 

“Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world and stuff, maybe we can all go out or something?” Steve knows it’ll never happen, but he still says it anyways. It’s his way of extending friendship to Nancy, proving to her that there aren’t any hard feelings. “A long overdue double date, you know? You, me, Y/N, and Jonathan when he’s back.”

Jonathan’s name slips from Steve’s mouth before he can stop it. He knows he’s made a mistake.

You look away from him, the guilt of remembering Jonathan’s words. His dangerous reminiscing, how you still haven’t told Nancy.

And Nancy looks away because she’s reminded of her problems with Jonathan. The distance that has grown between them. How it feels like they haven’t been on the same page for a long, long time now. 

“I’d-I’d like that.” You finally say, the words bitter.

Nancy nods, her own uncomfortable expression mirroring yours. “Yeah, totally.”

Neither of you sound convincing. Neither one of you can look the other in the eye. You can’t bear to look at Nancy because of the overwhelming guilt. Nancy can’t bear to look at you because you’re Jonathan’s best friend. 

“We can bring Robin on the date!” Steve is desperate to break the tension. He hates it, he hates that Jonathan has created a chasm that he can’t cross. “I’m sure she’d love to join.”

Thankfully Nancy laughs. “Why would she want to third wheel?”

“Who says Robin would be the third wheel?” You say, relieved by the change in topic. “She’d be my date, obviously. Steve would be the third wheel.”

“Obviously.” Steve rolls his eyes, though there’s fondness in his voice that Nancy doesn’t miss. 

You pick the last of the cobwebs off of him. Running your fingers through Steve’s hair one last time for good measure, you poke his cheek. “You’re officially cobweb free, by the way. We should probably get back to searching the house.”

“‘The obvious things are not what people observe,’” He catches your hand as it falls, squeezing it. “Or-’don’t observe’?”

Steve’s cute little frown warms you. He’s trying to impress you, quoting what your brother had only a few minutes ago. You squeeze his hand back, your cheeks warming as you smile up at him. “‘The world is full of obvious things by which nobody by any chance ever observes.’ You were close.”

“Thanks, angel. I would’ve gotten it eventually.”

“You would’ve.” 

The tenderness that Nancy sees in Steve’s eyes burns. The way you’re smiling at him, the softness underneath your voice. She sees the way you squeeze the other’s hand. It makes her ache; she misses holding Jonathan’s hand. 

– 

You stand underneath a chandelier, its lights flickering. The sight is a familiar one. Flickering lights have become a part of your nightmares. 

Max and Lucas had called everyone over to where they were. They’d found the lights that way. 

“It’s the Christmas lights all over again.” You don’t know why you’re whispering, but it feels wrong not to. 

Nancy nods in agreement, but Robin leans forward. “Christmas lights?”

“When Will was in the Upside Down, the lights… came to life.” Nancy explains, staring up at the way the chandelier flickers now. 

“It’s how we knew he was alive.” Your chest tightens at the memory. You’ll never forget the dread you felt, realizing that Will was alive, yet trapped somewhere you could never reach. 

Lucas clenches his fist. “Vecna’s here. In this house. Just on the other side.”

Steve grabs your hand, protective. He doesn’t like the idea of Vecna being so close to you. When the lights stop flickering, he pulls you closer to him, on edge. Equally as scared, you turn to Max to make sure she has her headphones nearby. 

“Max, get your headphones on.” You command her, but she doesn’t listen.

“I think Venca just left the room.” Robin announces, looking at the group surrounding her.

Max frowns. “Did he hear us?”

“Can he see us?” Steve asks, hand skimming the walkman that resides in your coat pocket. Your headphones dangle from your neck. He positions himself so that if he needs to, he’ll be able to grab them as fast as possible.

“Headphones.” Lucas echoes your prior command, only this time Max doesn’t hesitate to put them on. He looks at you, too. “Y/N.”

You shake your head at him. Not yet. You’re scared that if you play your music right now, you’ll somehow miss any signs of danger for Max. You can’t be distracted, you can’t risk it. 

“Everyone turn off your flashlights and spread out.” Nancy orders. There isn’t any time to argue, she recognizes that. You’ve made your choice. 

Steve protests not having any lights on, and you can’t help but agree. The idea of running around the house without any sense of guidance makes you incredibly uneasy. It makes you easy targets.

But no one listens, already spreading out as Nancy told them. Steve groans, knowing you have no choice but to follow along as well. “Jesus Christ.”

“We’ll be fine.” You promise him, but Steve refuses to let go of your hand.

Robin is the first to find Vecna. 

“I got him!” Her flashlight is pointed in the air, illuminating for only a second before the light dies completely. She slowly lowers it, defeated. “I… I had him.”

Then Steve’s flashlight turns on. He holds it away from him, though quickly he realizes that the light is following something. “He’s moving. I-I think he’s moving!”

Steve makes it to the top of the stairs before the light dies once more. He curses in agitation. But before he can complain, your flashlight turns on. 

“He’s back,” you whisper, too afraid to raise your voice. Steve tries to snatch the flashlight from you, he doesn’t want Vecna anywhere near you, but you push him away. “He’s taking us somewhere.”

“Up here,” Max says, pointing towards a door. It’s cracked, faint light seeps through. Shoving it open, she reveals a separate staircase. 

“It’s an attic,” Robin’s voice pitches an octave. “Of course it’s an attic.”

No one says anything as you make your way upstairs. Your light shines brightly, growing stronger and stronger with every step you take. Dustin tries to warn you guys that it could just be a trap, but his protests go ignored. 

He’s probably right, but you’re already cursed and you have nothing to lose. 

When you reach the attic, a single lightbulb hangs from the rafters. It flickers wildly, growing dimmer and stronger in stuttering patterns. Your flashlight begins to mimic the light’s pattern, before everyone else’s flashlights flicker on. 

You all stand around the lightbulb, flashlights now joined together. 

“Okay, what’s happening?” Steve looks around, anxious. 

No one answers him. No one can answer him; but you can. The hair on your arms stands up. Static swirls around you, your body shivers at the sensation. 

You’re standing where Vecna’s standing.

“He’s here.” 

No one asks you how you know this.

A searing pain rips through your head. It’s so sudden, so jarring, that you can’t mask the pained sound you make. Everyone looks at you, terrified that you’re next, before the lights go haywire. The flashlights reach a burning capacity, energy exceeding their limits. One by one, they explode. 

Glass flies everywhere. One piece cuts your cheek. The cut isn’t deep, it’s only a superficial wound, but Steve has your head in his hands before the blood can even begin to drip down your skin. 

The lights go out. Steve tends to you in the dark.

The entire car ride back to Nancy’s, his hand never leaves yours.

-

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ i am no longer doing a taglist, my apologies ! however, please feel free to like, reblog, and comment instead :)

[dragon-kazansky]

Bridgerton shade of blue

Benedict Bridgerton x Female Reader

The Viscount is set on finding a wife this season, and you are trying again for your second season. While Anthony is dealing with trials between Edwina and Kate Sharma, you are dealing with trials of your own. Benedict Bridgerton is ever present in your life, but your pursuit to find a husband must come first. Society is ever so exhausting.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Season Two

Chapter Twenty One - The one who sparkles

The next day, you find yourself at the Bridgerton house. Madame Delacroix is there with fabrics, so Violet may choose one for Eloise. Eloise could not care less about fabrics as she reads away on the sofa.

Francesca plays the piano beautifully in the background. You're standing by the piano watching her. She smiles as she plays, lost in her music. You loved that about Francesca. She was so different from her siblings.

Anthony was reading by the window quietly. He hadn't spoken a word since you got here. Not to you or his family.

Elosie and Anthony share a shirt discussion about ladies and gentlemen. Eloise finds all gentlemen a bore, and Anthony doesn't believe ladies can dance properly. His poor toes. He had spent all night dancing with no such luck as to finding his ideal wife.

Hyacinth makes a comment about how she thinks Eloise would be a wonderful diamond. Eloise looks at her youngest sister in her face and says, "I despise you."

They all chuckle.

Violet chooses the fabric she likes best, and Madame Delacroix packs her things. You don't even notice as she leaves that Benedict enters, greeting her fondly. The conversation is short, however, as Benedict's eyes land on you.

Madame Delacroix leaves.

Francesca finishes her piece on the piano and smiles at you when you clap softly. "Wonderful, Francesca. Simply, wonderful."

"Thank you."

Francesca leaves the room quietly, and you find a seat to occupy. Benedict, having been turned by Delacroix, decides to make his way over to you, but Anthony calls for him. Benedict sighs and makes his way to his brother with his sketchbook in hand.

"Are you and the modiste still, uh, making a stitch?" Anthony asks.

"Apparently not. Have you found a wife yet? Or are you planning to offend every girl until there are none left? Is mother aware?"

"Aware of what?" Violet asks, hearing them.

"I'm off to deal with our solicitor," Anthony states. "Have fun with your pretty pictures, brother."

You watch Anthony leave. Violet follows him.

You get up and take the seat Anthony was just in. You lean across the table slightly and look at Benedict.

"You're not playing with her anymore?" You ask, teasing him.

"What are you talking about?"

"Madame Delacroix."

"You know?" He asks, completely horrified by the thought.

"Yes."

"How?"

"Anthony told me. I'm not sure why. Who you fool around with is your business, not mine. You Bridgerton boys certainly keep yourself entertained." You chuckle.

"You seem rather calm about this."

"Why shouldn't I be? I'm not naive, Benedict." You glance at the others. "I'm aware of what some people do."

Benedict is stunned into silence as he stares at you. Seems there is more to you than he first assumed.

"It was just some fun," he says softly.

"I don't care." You tell him. "Do what you want, Benedict."

The smile you give him doesn't offer him much comfort.

At the next ball, the queen was expected to choose her diamond of the season. All ladies in white and gold were presented before her before moving alone. You and your mother curtsied. The queen barely glanced at you.

You both walk on.

"She did not look impressed," you commented quietly.

"She never does," your mother responds.

You sigh softly and stand off to the side. You watch people dance. Spotting the Sharma ladies, you watch them approach the queen and curtsy to her.

They walk away quite quickly. You're not sure what the queen had said, but Lady Mary Sharma didn't seem too happy.

"May I have this dance?"

You turn and find yourself face to face with a rather handsome gentleman. You smile politely and take his hand, letting him guide you to the floor.

Lord Baxtor was a friendly gentleman. He had a dashing smile and seemed very pleased to be dancing with you.

"I saw you at Lady Danbury's soiree," he says.

"Oh? I do not recall meeting you."

"No, I think not. You spent most of the evening rather close to Mr Bridgerton's side."

"Oh... Yes. I must apologise. The first ball of the season, I always find rather daunting. I find comfort in being close to friends," you tell him.

"Yes, I must agree with you. You looked beautiful that night, as you do tonight."

You smile. "Thank you. You look very dashing tonight."

He smiles.

As you both dance, you don't notice Bridgerton's arriving. Violet guides Eloise over to the queen, followed by the two eldest sons.

"Tell me, brother, is there anyone here you haven't rejected?" Benedict teases Anthony.

Anthony does not look amused.

"You're the artist. Do you see anyone remotely inspiring?"

Benedict automatically finds himself looking in your direction despite not knowing you were there moments ago.

"We shall have our diamond tonight, and I shall have a wife," Anthony declares.

The greet the queen.

Eloise manages to make the queen laugh quite loudly with a comment about emeralds.

They bow and leave.

"If the queen, in fact, names Eloise the diamond, who will you marry then, brother?" Benedict asks.

"Hush, you."

The dance comes to an end, and Lord Baxtor escorts you off the floor. You smile at him. He lets go of your hand slowly, almost reluctantly, but he is a gentleman. You watch him walk away.

This seems like a promising start, at least.

You spot Benedict across the room, and he smiles at you. You return his smile. You would go over to him, but the fanfare plays and realise the queen is about to choose her diamond of the season.

You wait with the other to see who she will choose.

"Your presence is noted, and your queen most appreciative. Allow it to now be my honour to present you the season's diamond."

The room is quiet apart from a few whispers.

"Miss Edwina Sharma."

The room fills with applause. You watch the sisters who both smile. You are happy for them. Edwina is elegant, beautiful, has a charming smile, and seems to be a very wonderful person all around.

She will certainly have her hands full within the ton.

You don't notice Benedict, who comes up beside you.

"Disappointed?"

You look up. "Hardly."

"Though, you do have an admirer, it seems."

You follow Benedict's gaze to find Lord Baxtor watching you from across the room. You smile and turn away shyly.

"Then you must make sure to keep your distance, Benedict. I don't want to scare away any potential suitors."

Benedict gazes at you with a slightly confused look. He's not sure what you mean by your comment, but he doesn't respond to it. All he sees is you looking at the other gentleman with a soft smile.

Anthony takes Edwina for a dance around the room, where he is no doubt questioning her preferences.

Kate Sharma seems very unhappy to see them together.

You, however, have a splendid evening. When Benedict realises he is not holding your attention for the night, he leaves. Lord Baxtor wastes no time in coming over to talk to you.

You do not leave his side the rest of the night.

The next morning, you sit in your drawing room with your embroidery. Tea is sitting on the table beside you, and your mother is watching the window. She will hate it if you point out how obvious she is being. With wvery gentleman she sees pass the house she gets excited, only to discover them going down the street to another.

You find it amusing. Your mother looked forward to the next season. She took great joy in all the chaos society provided. You do so adore her when she is like this.

"Is there still time?" You mother asks, coming over to the couches.

"Yes, ma'am." The butler replies.

Your mother sighs and looks around the room. She hoped she had made the house comfortable enough for visitors. She was keen to help impress a suitor for you.

There is a knock at the door, and your mother clutches the armrest beside her with a sharp gasp. The butler leaves to answer the door, and you chuckle at the way your mother begins to fuss.

The butler returns. "A visitor, ma'am."

"Let them in." Your mother stands.

You put your embroidery down and stand up alongside her. You wait a few moments and then the vistor enters. You smile.

"Lord Baxtor."

He bows his head. "My lady."

Your mother smiles from ear to ear and excuses herself to the other side of the room to watch from there.

You invite Lord Baxtor to sit with you. You both take your seats and smile at one another.

"Hello."

"Hello," he chuckles.

"I was no expecting any callers."

"No?"

"I expected them all to be with Miss Sharma this morning," you confess.

"Though she is beautiful to be certain, and I'm sure a wonderful lady, I find myself wishing to spend more time in your presence."

You blush softly as you look at him.

"I haven't stopped thinking about our dance last night," he tells you.

"Oh?"

"Have you... perhaps thought of me?"

"Yes. I must admit I have."

He adjusts his position on the sofa and looks at you rather serious. "I must ask, Bridgerton will not likely be an issue, will he?"

"Why should he be an issue?"

"As much as I love a challenge, I do not wish to be up agaiant a Bridgerton, of all men."

"He is a friend of mine, but should you wish to see where this goes, a can assure you, Benedict Bridgerton will not be a problem."

Lord Baxtor smiles. "Good. Then can I hope to escort you to the races this afternoon?"

You smile. "I would be delighted."

Your mother watches with keen interest as you used this gentlemen seem to get along quite nicely. It was a promising match if she had ever seen one.

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@biancamde - @ifgslsofbsodbf - @kniselle - @berarenado - @grassclippers - @bwormie - @avengersgirllorianna

[markhoffmans-certified-slut]

Seven Minutes In Heaven | Stu Macher

Pairing: Stu Macher x female!reader 

Word count: 4.1K

Warnings/contents: Light smut, sexual innuendos, mild language, mentions of future sex, light clit stimulation, slight name calling. 

Notes: Well… I was gonna do Billy… But… here we are, and this is not Billy. Stu has been living in my brain rent free the past couple of days and I’m not sure how to get rid of him. Do I want to? I hope that you all enjoy this chapter, it was fun to write! 

<>~<>~<>

The party was crowded all around you. It was nearly midnight, but there was no sign of the lively crowd leaving or dropping any time soon. You leaned against the wall in the room beside the kitchen, watching everybody laughing, singing and dancing. You’d been going hard all night— drinking, dancing, singing, and bouncing around the rooms with Sidney and Tatum. So you were taking a break with a fresh drink. 

Your stomach had started to hurt less than an hour ago, but you ignored it and took another swig of your drink. Everything tonight was sort of a blur. You weren’t sure if it was because you’d drank too much, or because everything was going fast; people were everywhere, and yet, you hadn’t seen Stu, Billy or Randy in the past few hours. You had seen Tatum and Sidney constantly throughout the night before you departed to get a new drink and they went to the bathroom. 

An arm wrapped around your shoulder, nearly making you jump before you looked and saw Sidney. 

“You scared me,” you feigned annoyance at the woman who sent you a grin. “I thought that you were some creep.” She laughed and took a quick sip of her drink. 

“It’s only Tatum and I,” she said as Tatum rounded the corner and sent you a smile. 

“Guys— have you seen Randy tonight?” 

“Uh, I think he was in the kitchen last I saw,” you said innocently, earning a cackle from Sidney. 

“She means that she thinks he looks hot.” You gave a quick laugh and tossed your head back on her shoulder. 

“No! Not Randy Meeks!” 

“What— it isn’t my fault. He looks hot tonight.” You and Sidney shared a laugh that made Tatum roll her eyes. “Come on guys— let me get over Stu how I please.” Her words felt like something that should have made you stop laughing and teasing, but you knew for a fact that she was over the man she’d previously been with; shockingly, he had been the one that broke up with her, despite Sidney’s constant bothering Tatum to break up with him. 

“Any way you want— just not with Randy.” You heckled the woman who sighed dreamily and leaned against the wall on your other side with a cup in her hand. You took a quick glance inside of it and chuckled. “Maybe you’re losing your mind because you’ve been drinking too much.” 

“It has to take a lot of shots to get with Randy,” Sidney sent Tatum a grin that she ignored. 

“I haven’t drank that much.” She told you, but you were quick to raise an eyebrow. You’d been with the two a majority of the night, and you knew for a fact that Tatum had drank nearly as much as you— possibly more in the short time that you had been separated. 

“Sure, Tate,” you shrugged the conversation off, knowing not to argue with her about this right now. She was far too drunk to accurately retort right now and it felt crude of you to continue teasing her. “If Randy is what you want…” You gave a soft blow from your mouth. “Fuck it. Then go for it.” Tatum hesitated, a slow smile spreading across her face as she pushed herself off of the wall with her shoulder. “Whoah— I do not like the face you just made,” you watched the woman start to head off across the room and shared a worried look with Sidney. 

“Should we… follow her?” 

“Probably.” The two of you made your way through the crowd, trying to follow the back of her head as quickly as you could to not lose her, but you were worried you’d accidentally end up following the wrong person if you got bumped into or blinded for a moment. By time the two of you made it off of the crowded makeshift dance floor, you saw Tatum across the room whispering something to Stu. 

You shared a quick, shocked look with the woman beside you before you looked back and saw him laughing and nodding. Tatum met your gaze across the room and waved in the air, beckoning the two of you over. 

“What are you talking to Stu for?” Sidney asked with a raised eyebrow. “I thought that the two of you were… well, not on speaking terms.” 

“I have a plan,” Tatum said with a cheerful grin. “We’re going to play seven minutes in heaven! It’s the perfect excuse to get Randy into the closet with me.” After a moment of silence, you spoke. 

“Why don’t you just get him into a bedroom upstairs with you?” She seemed to think for a moment before she shrugged. 

“I didn’t think of it.” You went to speak again, but she cut you off. “Well, it’s too late now. We both have something to gain from this anyways.” She sent you a wink that made your stomach tighten. 

What the hell did she mean by that? 

“Tatum—“ 

A whistle came over the room as the music abruptly stopped. People groaned and looked around in confusion. Stu stood on a table, waving a hat around the room. 

“It’s time for seven minutes in heaven!” Drunk people in the room started to cheer at his excitement. “We’re splitting into 3 different groups since there’s so many of us. Those of you who don’t want to play can stay here. Everyone else, split into groups and follow me.” Tatum grabbed your hand, so you grabbed Sidney’s hand, and quickly ran towards the direction Stu was going. You nearly stumbled over your feet on the way to the living room. “Alright— so we have 3 hats, I’m gonna do a headcount and put a slip of paper into the hat for every person in the room.” 

“How do we know who’s who?” Someone called. 

“I know. Billy knows.” 

“What if we don’t trust you?” Sidney asked with a raised eyebrow at the man who chuckled. 

“Okay— I’ll let one more person know the numbers for each group. (y/n)— you can have the numbers for our group,” your attention drifted off as you watched the man continue to speak, anxious about the game. You didn’t want to play— you did not want to get trapped in a room with any of these drunk people. But at the moment, it didn’t seem like you had a choice as Tatum squeezed your hand. 

“Thank you,” Tatum whispered to you quickly. You sent her a small, tight smile and watched the room start to disperse. Stu walked towards you and gestured for you to follow him. You let go of the girls hands, your own feeling clammy and numb. You hadn’t realized that you were anxiously squeezing their hands so tightly. 

“Whatever number Randy or Tatum picks doesn’t matter. We’re gonna say it’s theirs so they get locked in a closet together.” He spoke simply. “As for everyone else, we’re gonna go clockwise so that it’s easy to remember. I’m not sober enough to remember everybody in this room.” Feeling queasy, you sent the man a quick nod. 

“Sounds good to me.” You were quick to walk away from the man when he turned to Billy and went to sit between Tatum and Sidney. Sidney sent you a pat on the back while Stu jutted out the hat at the first victim of the circle— someone that you didn’t know the name of. He pulled a slip of paper out of the hat and called out the number. 

“Six.” You quickly looked around the group, counting clockwise to the sixth person and seeing another girl. She had long red hair, but you weren’t sure what her name was. For the most part, you knew about a total of five people at Stu’s parties— him included. 

The two got up, following Stu to the coat closet across the room. There were several spread throughout the house, giving plenty of room for every group to have one party go at once. 

He blocked the door with a chair and walked back to the group with his phone in hand, starting a timer for seven minutes and sitting down with the group while it counted down. The thought of spending seven minutes locked in a tight space with anybody in this room made your stomach churn. 

“Randy, I dare you to take 3 shots of (y/n)’s drink.” You looked at Stu, shocked: nobody said anything about playing another game while people were in the closet. 

“What— you didn’t let me choose between truth or dare!” He complained. Stu shrugged, clearly not caring and not going to change his mind. Randy looked at you and sighed, scooting closer and reaching for your drink that you outstretched tentatively. 

“Don’t give that back.” Randy almost looked offended. 

“I’m not sick!” 

“I don’t want your germs in my mouth.” Randy rolled his eyes, moving back to sit where he was previously since you didn’t want the drink back, and took 3 large shots into his mouth and winced. 

“God, (y/n)— this is strong,” he complained. You laughed at the man and watched him set the drink down with a grimace. Randy took a moment to get the taste from his mouth with his own drink before he looked around the circle for his next victim. “Hmm… Sidney… truth or dare.” 

“Truth,” she said, not trusting the look on Randy’s face. 

“Did you or did you not fuck Billy last weekend?” Her face warmed and you snickered; she should have known a truth would be just as bad from Randy as a dare. 

“Uh… I did.” She avoided eye contact with Billy who stole a quick glance at her. “God, you’re a pervert,” she mumbled, glancing at Tatum and wondering why she wanted to be locked in a closet with him. Just before Sidney spoke to pick her next person, the timer on Stu’s phone went off. He held a finger up to pause the game and got up, walking towards the closet. He moved the chair and abruptly slammed open the door, clearly wanting to catch the two in the act of doing something, and yet he only found them kissing sloppily. 

“Time’s up, love birds.” He shoved the two out of the closet, snickering when the girl was flushing and went back to the circle with her head down. Stu shook the hat and walked towards you, stopping with the hat right in front of your face. You reached up and into the hat, digging around until you felt like you found the right piece of paper. 

You pulled it out and looked at it. A 4 was scribbled on the paper. You looked to your left and met Sidney’s eyes. 

“Thank god,” you mumbled quietly, watching her laugh. 

“Well, then.” Stu smirked. “Come on, ladies.” Sidney rolled her eyes at the man and stood up. 

“Don’t be a pervert.” She grumbled, walking towards the closet with you. A quick look was shared between you and Stu. He sent you a wink as you walked into the cramped closet with Sidney. Stu shut the door and almost immediately you heard the chair scrape across the floor. 

“Seven minutes!” He called before he walked away. You gave a sigh and leaned back against the wall, brushing your hair back from your face. 

“I’m so glad it’s you I’m in here with.” The room was so dark you could barely see her, but you could see the woman enough to watch her smile. 

“Yeah— I agree. I did not want to be in here with one of those drunk guys. They look like they could barely stand.” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I wish Tatum had wanted to play this game when everyone was more sober.” 

“Or not at all,” Sidney grimaced. 

“Well, maybe you’ll get locked in here with Billy.” You teased the woman who gave your shoulder a slap. “Alright— alright!” You shoved her hand away with a grin. “I’ll leave you alone.” 

“Speaking of being locked in here with people…” She hesitated, confusing you. 

“What do you want to do, make out?” You teased the woman. 

“Absolutely not. I was wondering— have you seen Stu tonight?” 

“Uh— yeah? I was talking to him not that long ago about the game.” 

“Yeah, but that isn’t what I meant.” 

“I’m confused.” 

“He’s eyeing you like he wants to fuck you right there.” You choked on your own spit and nearly had a coughing fit. “I’m serious! He’s so eye fucking you.” You couldn’t tell if she was annoyed or not by her tone. She sounded half-disgusted and half-teasing. “The wink?” She added. “Stu doesn’t just wink.” 

“Stu flirts with everyone,” you said when you finally caught your breath. “He’s not eye fucking me, he’s just being… ugh.” You didn’t know what to say. You weren’t oblivious. You had seen him out of the corner of your eye a few times, but that didn’t mean that you thought that he was staring at you specifically. Wasn’t he just kind of a whore? 

“All I’m saying is that you better wish upon a star you don’t get locked in here with him or you’re gonna be caught naked.” You gasped and made her laugh. 

“I don’t want to fuck him. Even if he wants to fuck me— nobody said that I wanted to fuck him.” 

“Tatum fell for him.” You gave a soft scoff and looked down. 

“Whatever.” She reached over and gave you a gentle pat on the shoulder; the two of you stood in silence for a few minutes before the door opened and Stu looked in. He raised an eyebrow and stepped aside. 

“Boring.” Was all he said. “Randy, Tate— you’re next.” You raised an eyebrow and looked towards Tatum who stood a little too quickly. 

“What?” 

“We let Tatum choose while the two of you were still in here.” Stu sent you a knowing look and let Randy and Tatum inside the closet. She sent you an excited look and you swore that you saw Randy blushing before Stu shut the door and put the chair in front of the door. He took his time starting the timer on the way back to the circle. You went to go sit beside Sidney, but a cold hand caught your wrist and pulled you down. You gave a soft sound in shock and looked at Stu as he turned on the timer and leaned towards you. 

“What’s up with Tatum wanting to fuck Randy?” He asked, his breath hitting your ear. You felt ashamed as your face heated up as he spoke. 

“Uh, I don’t know.” You chewed on the inside of your cheek and gazed across the circle at Sidney who looked like she was going to burst. You sent her a sharp look. “She just mentioned it tonight. Maybe she’s just drunk. Why? Jealous?” You finally looked at the man again. He had a single raised eyebrow. 

“Me? Jealous?” He laughed. “No way. I have options.” You quickly looked away as the man eyed you too intensely. “Sidney,” he spoke, eyes still trained on you for a moment before he looked at her. “Truth or dare?” She hesitated for a minute, thinking about her last choice and the truth she had to answer. 

“Dare.” He smirked at the girl and looked at Billy that sat a few feet away from him. 

“Sit on Billy’s lap until I pick out of the hat.” 

“Wait—“ 

“What’s the matter? You were just on his dick last weekend.” He said, as innocently as he could. She shot him a look and almost pleaded with her eyes at you. 

“I can always, uh… take the dare instead.” You said in an attempt to save your friend from the embarrassment. 

“No,” Stu spoke quickly, shaking his head. “This is for Sidney. Sid, sit on Billy’s lap for the next few minutes.” You shrugged gently and sent her an apologetic look. 

‘I tried’ you mouthed at the woman as she stood and walked over to Billy. You didn’t bother looking over and watching her, knowing that she certainly didn’t want to be seen in a moment like this. With a content hum, Stu looked around the circle then at the timer on his lap. There were still four minutes left for the two in the room and nearly half of the people had left while you and Sidney were in the closet. 

“Well… unless you wanna kiss me, there’s not much else we can do.” Stu spoke. It took a moment for you to realize that he was talking to you. 

“I’m not going to kiss you. I wasn’t going to choose dare anyways! It’s not even your turn again!” You blurted out shakily. He snickered and rested back on his hands. 

“Alright. Guess we get to wait.” The room was awkwardly silent. The music was quieter than it had been all night, but it still made your teeth feel like they were buzzing even after all of this time away from the loud room. 

Being able to hear your breath made you feel self-conscious, so you glanced at Sidney and saw her stiff against Billy who had a hand on her leg. She caught your gaze and gently shook her head as you bit back a smile. 

The timer going off nearly made you jump. Stu got up slowly, stopping the timer and grabbed the hat instead of heading for the closet. You looked up at the man as he shoved his hand into the hat. All of the papers were still in there, even for the people that had left, but he smiled when he picked up his piece. He handed it down to Billy as Sidney scrambled off of his lap and stood up. 

“Gotta run to the bathroom,” she mumbled to you as she passed by you. You were too distracted watching the two share a quick, quiet conversation. Billy sent Stu and quick smirk as Stu laughed and stood up straight again. He headed over to the closet as Billy pocketed the paper and looked at you. 

“Let me guess, you?” You asked hopefully. Billy stood and stretched his legs with a shake of his head. 

“I hope your breath smells good.” He teased, moving to sit on the sofa as your face fell. You watched as Tatum straightened her shirt and sent you a grin. Randy’s face was bright red as he aimlessly followed Tatum towards the other room. Nobody was left but you, Billy and Stu. Fingers grabbed your own, the same cold, slender fingers that grabbed you before. You dug your nail into the side of your free thumb and looked at the man. 

“Just you and me now,” he winked at you and tugged you towards the closet. Billy followed the two of you to the closet, giving Stu a slap on the back as he got into the small, cramped space with you, and shut the door. The chair scraped across the floor and hooked underneath the handle. 

“Seven minutes.” Billy spoke through the door and walked away. You were dead silent, fearing to even breathe. Stu shockingly didn’t smell purely like alcohol. Instead, he smelled minty, like he’d recently had gum. The lingering scent of his cologne was in your nose as he stood so close that you swore you felt his body heat. 

“I’m guessing you and Sidney didn’t do what we’re about to,” he spoke in a tone you had never heard from him before; enticing, flirty— dare you say it— sexy. You clenched your jaw and tried becoming one with the wall. Stu got closer, his breath along your warm cheekbones. 

“We don’t have to do anything.” You spoke quickly. 

“This is seven minutes in heaven. That’s the golden rule of this game.” He grasped your waist and pulled you flush against his chest. You gave a soft gasp and pressed your palm flat to his chest. “You’re gonna tell me that you don’t want to kiss me like I wanna kiss you?” He teased. “You’re not struggling. You’re not yelling or hitting me.” Stu nudged your chin up and leaned in, his lips brushing gently across yours with the slightest kiss that you didn’t return. 

Your breath hitched and earned another laugh from the man in front of you. 

“Yeah. You don’t want to kiss me.” He mumbled beneath his breath, ignoring your silent protests as he pressed his lips to yours. Your fingers grasped at his chest, legs shaky as the man held you close. You struggled for a moment in his arms, but Stu was persistent. His tongue brushed along your bottom lip and made you flush. Involuntarily, your mouth opened for the man that pushed his tongue into your mouth and grasped tighter at your hips. 

The fight in you seemed to have abandoned you as you finally leaned into the man. Stu reached his hand down, groping at your ass and earning a soft gasp from you as he pressed your hips to his. His fingers grasped your thigh, edging it up to wrap around his waist in an attempt to feel your body completely pressed against his own. Your face was hot as you felt the obvious hardness in his pants. 

“You feel how hard I am for you?” He teased between feverish kisses that you leaned in to even when he pulled back. “It’s sure as hell not for Tatum fucking Randy in the bathroom upstairs.” He snickered, sliding his hand up your side and groping at your breast over the bra that you wore. 

Stu left your lips with a soft ‘smack,’ but before you could even react, he leaned down to press a few scattered kisses to your neck. Stu’s fingers were long and strong, groping at your breast and making you give a soft moan in return to his lips sucking on your skin. Stu gave a devious chuckle and pulled away from your neck, shoving his lips back to your mouth as his opposite hand slid along your thigh. You shifted against the man, leaning closer to him and making it easier for his fingers to press to your clit over your clothing. 

“Better stay quiet. You wouldn’t want anyone thinking that you cave so easily, would you?” He laughed at you as you gave another small moan at his fingers rubbing small circles on your clit. Your body tingled at his touch, at the kisses that he pressed to your lips. Stu knew he had you when his fingers pushed into your pants and you didn’t even falter. His fingers pressed to your entrance over your underwear and he gave a chuckle. “You’re wet,” he mumbled against your lips. “Are you a little slut? Getting horny for me in the closet? Are you into the thought of Billy hearing you moan for me in here?” 

“Mmm, Stu—“ you grumbled in complaint as he chuckled. He pressed another kiss to your lips and shoved his fingers into your panties. You squirmed against the mans hands as his fingers rubbed bare at your clit. You were getting desperate, the alcohol in your system wasn’t making it easy on you to make the right choices. 

And as Stu pushed one of his long fingers inside of you, it was too hard for you to stop. 

Stu easily sensed how desperate you were as you clenched slightly around his fingers. He chuckled, pulling his hand back and sucking off his fingers before he reached over and pounded on the door. 

“As sexy as this is, I’d rather go to my room and keep your moans and screams to myself,” he pressed a kiss to your neck as footsteps started heading to the closet. His warm breath hit your ear as he whispered to you. “I’m gonna strip all of this off of you and fuck you until you’re soaking the bed.” You gave a soft sound beneath your breath in embarrassment to his vulgar words, something that earned a devious chuckle from the man that stood over you. 

The light coming from outside nearly blinded you as you squinted and tried to adjust to the drastic light change. 

“That wasn’t seven minutes.” Billy’s familiar voice spoke as slender fingers grabbed your own quickly and started to lead you from the closet. You glanced over, seeing Sidney sitting on the ground with flushed cheeks. She sent you a confused look, something you shrugged at. 

“I decided I need more than seven minutes.” Stu sent his best friend and wink before he tugged you after him. “Come on. Let’s go to my room. You won’t regret it.” 

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [12] - Chase

A.N: Here’s the new chapter my loves! ❤️ Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Some car rides aren’t relaxing.

Word Count: 3200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, death, guns, crime, blood, explicit language. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

You hummed a song as you walked through the luxurious duplex penthouse, following the real estate agent who looked thrilled to be there.

“The skyline is absolutely gorgeous as you can see,” she said. “And just letting you know, I already have three very interested buyers—”

“They’ll wait,” you stated calmly and she paused for a moment, then smiled at you.

“Of course!” she said. “Just—you know, just a fun fact! Anyway, this floor has an open kitchen and two guest bedrooms, a bathroom…”

“Two guest rooms?”

“One of which could be turned into a nursery,” she said and winked at you. “Or you could hire me when it’s time for a family home.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said with a weary smile, “but let’s just take that off the table for the moment.”

She held up her hands.

“And the upstairs has the primary bedroom suite with its own breathtaking terrace of course, the master bathroom and two walk in closets. Perfect for a newlywed couple if you ask me!”

You nodded your head. “Are the windows bulletproof?”

She blinked a couple of times.

“…I doubt it?” she said. “But we’re on the 50th floor.”

“And surrounded by other 50 floor skyscrapers,” you said and heaved a sigh. “That’s fine, we’ll get it fixed if we decide on this one.”

 “Would you like to see the terrace?” she motioned and before you could say anything, you heard footsteps coming closer and you looked over your shoulder to see Bucky stepping into the apartment.

“Hi gorgeous,” he said and approached you to press a kiss on top of your head, then turned to the real estate agent. “Viola. It's a pleasure to see you again.”

“Oh the pleasure is all mine Mr. Barnes,” she said with a giggle, a smile lighting up her face and you looked between them, raising your brows.

“Would you give us a moment while we check the terrace please, Viola?” you asked as you pulled Bucky by his vibranium arm to the huge sliding glass doors, then stepped outside.

Dear God, the skyline was absolutely gorgeous.

“So,” Bucky said. “What do you think?”

You clicked your tongue. “Before I answer that, I have a quick question.”

“Hm?”

“Did you fuck our real estate agent?”

He tilted his head, furrowing his brows together. “What?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “Well because she got all flustered and smiley, and if you did it’s totally fine but it’s gonna be a little awkward honestly—”

“I didn’t!” he said. “She helped with Becca’s apartment, that’s how we know each other.”

“You own multiple skyscrapers in this part of the town and you needed a real estate agent?”

“Do I look like I am personally handling any of the buildings I own?” he asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Fine, fine…” you said. “So why were you late again? You were supposed to be here half an hour ago.”

“My mom dropped by the office,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you frowned.

“Why?”

“She wants us to reconsider the guest list.”

“You mean she wants us to invite more people?” you asked and he nodded his head.

“Yup. Good for business, apparently.”

“The guest list and the seating chart are already finished,” you said and he sat down on the nearest sofa which looked so comfortable from where you were standing.

“I mean, would inviting more people hurt?”  

“Yeah Bucky, it would hurt my head,” you said as you glanced at the fireplace in the corner of the terrace, then flung yourself on the armchair across from the sofa. “Winnifred is such a boy mom.”

“Oh come on,” he said with a small laugh. “She loves you.”

“Uh huh, until our divorce.”

He paused for a moment, then cleared his throat.

“I’m kind of convinced your father might actually shoot me when we announce our divorce, so...”

“He won’t shoot you,” you told him, waving a hand in the air. “That being said, we’re not inviting more people.”

“I told her the same thing, that’s why it took me half an hour to convince her,” he said, leaning back to shoot you a mischievous grin. “But I think she’ll get over it if we promise to name our firstborn daughter after her.”

You hummed. “You can get a fish.”

“A fish?”

“A tankful of them, you can name all of them after your family members,” you said and sat up straighter. “So, the apartment?”

“I’m good with it if you are,” he said and stole a look at the windows. “I don’t know shit about this building though, are the windows bulletproof?”  

“I asked the same thing, she said probably not.”

“It’s fine, we can get that fixed,” he said and you felt a smile curling your lips, then kicked at his shoe with yours.

“Come on,” you said as you got up from the armchair. “We should take a look at upstairs, apparently the terrace there is breathtaking as well.”

                                                 *

Apart from the fact that it only had two guest rooms, the penthouse was absolutely perfect. You figured since you were going to get a divorce, you didn’t really need multiple guest rooms at this point, and you were pretty sure you were going to use one of them as an armory anyway.

Before you would meet Becca and Leila for dinner, your father had asked you for lunch together so after you were done at the penthouse -your new home, you reminded yourself- you made your way to the familiar skyscraper of your father’s company, but then checked your wristwatch and pursed your lips together.

You were half an hour early, and you really didn’t feel like seeing Ian any more than necessary.

You took a look at the café across from the skyscraper and lingered there for a moment, then approached there and sat down at a table. The waitress came to you to take your order and you ordered a latte before pulling out your phone to text Becca about the penthouse, but before you could send all the photos, someone pulled the chair across from yours to sit down, making your head snap up.

“Romanoff?” you squeaked out, staring at the beautiful redhead and she gave you a calm smile.

“Natasha is fine,” she said. “Do you mind?”

“Not—not at all!” you managed to say, sitting up straighter. Even though Natasha was one of the major player in the city, you two hadn’t really spent any time together just like you and Stark. You knew she was good friends with Steve and sort of friends with Bucky, but other than that, she was mostly a mystery to you.

“I had a meeting with your father,” she said, pointing at the building with her thumb. “Was just leaving when I saw you and I figured I could give you my congratulations about the wedding.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding fervently. “Thanks. I um—I really appreciate it.”

“Quite the fast wedding though,” she pointed out, making you gulp.

“Yeah we figured, you know, we’ve known each other for all our lives.”

“Right,” she said. “Of course. So are you going to take over right after the wedding then?”

Your eyes widened and you gawked at her while the waitress brought your coffee, and turned to her.

“Could I get you anything?”

“No thank you, I won’t stay for long,” Natasha said and the waitress walked away as you cleared your throat.

“Um, I—” you stammered. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Her gaze was almost reprimanding as if you were trying to make her believe the table in front of her didn’t exist. You knew she was smart, no one who wasn’t smart would be able to survive at the top in this business for so long, but you had been hoping that you weren’t that obvious at the very least.

“I’m asking because if you’re going to do it at the wedding, I’m going to eat something beforehand,” she pointed out. “Considering your idiot cousin is not going to just let that happen, if bullets start flying…”

“What makes you think I want to take over?”

She let out a small laugh.

“Oh come on,” she said. “I never took you as naïve, the least you could do is return the favor. Not to mention, if you want me on your side when the time comes, you’re going to have to cut the bullshit.”

“And if that were true,” you said after a beat. “If I wanted to take over, what would be your opinion?”

She hummed.

“Well,” she trailed off. “For starters, you would make a better business partner than Ian, so you have that going for you.”  

“But…?”

“But you have no field experience,” she pointed out. “And practically zero support in the family.”

“I don’t necessarily need family support to take over,” you said. “It’s happened before. Most people follow power, no matter who holds it.”

“And the experience?”

“I have the training,” you said. “I’ll prove myself, I know very well that I have to.”

She arched a brow, then let a small smile curl her lips.

“Not to mention I’d keep the truce after taking over,” you said. “You can’t say the same thing for Ian.”

“Not very subtle, that one,” she murmured and you licked your lips.

“How did you know though?” you asked. “That I wanted it?”

She rolled her eyes.

“Your father has two starving dogs and only one steak,” she said. “Doesn’t take a genius, really. I told Clint about it way before you and Bucky got engaged.”

You huffed out a laugh and she pushed her chair back, then stood up.

“I mean you do have the training so you know how it ends, don’t you?” she asked. “One of you will have to tear the other’s throat out.”

That made you swallow thickly and you nodded your head, your teeth clenched together. She kept your gaze in hers for a couple of seconds, then shrugged her shoulders.

“Good luck,” she said calmly and walked away from you to get into her car, and you slid a little in your chair, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Thanks,” you muttered. “Good talk.”

                                             *

You had sent your bodyguards away for the night considering Becca already had hers who would accompany you to the nightclub. She had insisted on driving her car on the way there and you had a strong feeling that it was her way of showing Leila there was nothing to be intimidated about the business or her place in it, and that she could adapt to the civilian life just fine.

Love made people do all sorts of things, apparently.

Becca’s bodyguards’ car was following you as you leaned your head on the window, making yourself comfortable in the backseat and you took a look at your phone, then cleared your throat.

“Do you guys think I should text Ethan?”

Becca frowned at you from the rearview mirror before turning her attention on the road and Leila turned sideways in the passenger seat so that she could see you better.

“Do you want to?”

“I mean I feel like I should,” you said. “Technically, the guy took a bullet for me.”

Becca let out a noise of disagreement. “The guy took a bullet while you were there, it’s not the same thing.”

“He wouldn’t have got shot if I weren’t there though,” you pointed out and Leila hummed.

“I mean he’s gonna have to get over the fact that you’re in love with someone else and getting married,” she said. “If you’re friends…”

“We are.”

“You were only friends because he was hoping it would turn into a relationship,” Becca sang in a teasing manner and you rolled your eyes at her.

“I actually like spending time with him though,” you said. “I don’t know, I can’t help feel a bit guilty because—”

You were interrupted when a police car turned the corner to get in between you and Becca’s bodyguards’ car and flashed its headlights, signaling at you to pull over. Becca’s eyes snapped up to yours in the rearview mirror as your stomach dropped and you sat up straighter while Leila looked over her shoulder.

“Babe, they’re telling us to pull over.”

Becca’s jaw clenched before she cleared her throat while you unbuckled your seatbelt.

“Do you mind changing seats with Y/N, my love?”

“Why?”

“Because that’s not the police,” you told her. “No police in this city ever stops us.”

“What do you—” she started but let out a scream when another car hit Becca’s bodyguards car from the side, making it stop as the bullets started flying. Becca reached out to make her duck and you looked back, letting out a curse.

“Leila, the car is bulletproof,” Becca said, her voice calm as if there weren’t bullets hitting the car. “It’s all going to be fine, I just need you to change seats with Y/N.”

“O—okay…” Leila stammered and pushed herself through the small gap between her and Becca’s seat to reach the backseat, and you squeezed at her arm.

“Nothing will happen to you, just keep your head down,” you assured her and pulled your gun from your purse, then got on the passenger seat, adrenaline running through your veins.

“HYDRA?”

“Has to be,” Becca said as she sped up the car, swirling the car left and right so that some of the bullets wouldn’t hit it. “What are you thinking?”

You checked the GPS on the screen. “Sam’s territory.”

“Alright,” she muttered as she found and touched his name on the screen while you counted the bullets that seemed to be endless with the way they were raining on the car.

“Sooner or later that motherfucker is gonna have to change the magazine—”

“Hi Becca,” Sam’s voice reached the car. “Um, why am I hearing gunshots?”

Becca swirled the car on the road again. “HYDRA is following us, I’m in the car with Y/N and Leila.”

“What?!”

“It’s fine, Bucky made sure the car was bulletproof the day I bought it,” Becca added. “Listen, Sam I’m sharing my location with you, we’re like two minutes away from your territory and HYDRA’s men are right behind us so we can’t turn back—”

“I’m sending the cars and calling Buck,” Sam said and Becca hung up the phone as you opened the car window, then leaned out of the window and fired the shot at the man’s hand when he slid the next magazine into the gun, making him let out a yell. You quickly got back in and huffed out a breath.

“They have a bulletproof car as well but that should slow them down for a couple of seconds,” you muttered and turned to look at Leila who was still covering her head, curled up on the backseat.

“Leila?” Becca said. “Talk to me.”

“I—I think I’m fine?” Leila replied, her voice shaking. “Jesus Christ…”

“I’m really sorry about this,” Becca said and Leila shook her head.

“It’s not your fault Becca.”

The bullets started hitting the car again and you gritted your teeth, then checked the GPS again while Becca stepped on the accelerator.

“Babe, remember how you asked why the truce was so important in this city?” she asked Leila. “This is why.”

The moment your car entered Sam’s territory, two cars coming from the opposite direction turned their headlights on and wheezed past you, surrounding the car behind you. Becca pulled over and let out a breath, closing her eyes for a moment before she reached out to hold your hand to squeeze it.

“You okay?”

“Mm hm,” you said, your heart still beating in your ears as your phone started vibrating on the backseat. “You?”

“Peachy,” she said as she unbuckled her seatbelt, and touched Leila’s back. “Leila?”

Even you could tell that Leila was shaken up but she raised her head and wiped at her eyes, sniffling.

“I’m okay,” she rasped out. “Is it safe now?”

“Yeah,” Becca said. “I—Leila, I’m incredibly sorry for this…”

“Not your fault,” Leila said, her voice still trembling even if she tried to smile. “And I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

“I’ll give you guys a minute,” you managed to say and grabbed your phone before you stepped out of the car. Bucky’s name was flashing on the screen and you took a deep breath, then answered it and took it to your ear.

“Becca is fine,” you said. “Leila too. Sam’s people are here.”

There was a second of silence on the other side of the line before you heard Bucky letting out a relieved breath.

“Sweetheart?” he said, his voice gentle. “Are you alright?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to get rid of the fear churning your insides.

“Mm hm.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No, I shot one of them in the hand,” you said, your eyes falling on the three HYDRA men Sam’s people had dragged out of the car. The sight of one of them still holding onto his bleeding hand made the anger rush through your system so fast that it made your head spin, your vision going red.

Attacking you was one thing but attacking your friends and putting them in danger was another.

And you were not going to let that happen.

“Good job,” Bucky said softly as if trying to calm you down. “I’m on my way, alright?”

“Uh huh,” you said and hung up as you gripped your gun tighter, then pushed the phone into your pocket to make your way to the crowd. Sam’s people all turned to you before one of them stepped closer and you tried to focus through the blinding anger, dragging your gaze from the captives to her.

“Ma’am,” she said, stretching out her hand so that you could shake it with your free hand. “My name is Aubrey. Mr. Wilson let us know about what happened, he is on his way here. Is everyone in the car alright?”

“Yeah,” you said through frozen lips. “Thank you Aubrey. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course,” she said and you walked past her to get closer to HYDRA’s men. The one who was cradling his bloody hand glared at you, then spat at the ground.

“Doesn’t matter where you take us, I’ll die before I speak,” he growled and you arched a brow, then shrugged your shoulders calmly as if fury wasn't pounding in your head.

“Happy to follow your schedule buddy.”

You raised your gun and fired it right between his eyes, his lifeless body hitting the ground as the loud shot echoed through the road. Aubrey raised her brows and exchanged glances with one of her men while you lowered the gun and wiped the blood off your face.

“I’ll be over there until my fiancé gets here,” you said, motioning at the direction of Becca’s car. “Thanks again.”

 With that, you made your way to the car and jumped to sit on the trunk so that you wouldn’t interrupt Becca and Leila’s conversation. You put the gun beside you with a sigh, then crossed your legs and leaned back on your palms, adrenaline still roaring through you.

“Great,” you murmured, turning your gaze up to the sky. “Here goes my night I guess.”

Chapter 13

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - BAR

A/N: It took me some time, but here we go again. Chapter Seven, my friends. Just something stupid, fun.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: none

Summary: It's a fun night out at a bar.

Please, do not read if you are under 18. This story is suitable for mature audience.

Words: 3300+

Important note: Again, Logan is a tall MF, because they fucked up in the movies. Also, Hugh Jackman!Wolverine. This is set in AU.

A TOUCH OF HOPE MASTERLIST | Chapter Six

LOGAN HOWLETT - BAR

Y/N stood in front of the mirror, looking at her reflection. When was the last time she dressed up and put on make-up? She couldn’t recognise herself in the mirror. Since she came to the school, she would wear simple outfits and almost any make-up. Tonight, she wanted to look nice and make an impression on the people. Hell, she desired to catch Logan’s eyes. Honestly, she would catch his eyes even without all those things.

White blouse, dark blue jeans, black combat boots and a black leather jacket - this was her style. She put her hair into a high ponytail. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at herself in the mirror. It felt like lifetimes since she felt this confident and sexy. Damn, even the drawn cat-eye looked good. 

She winked at herself in the mirror and then glanced at her phone. Yes, they’d given her a phone. It was time to head out. She put it into the back pocket of her jeans. Before leaving, she had to check herself one more time just to be sure everything was perfect. 

To her surprise, she didn’t see any familiar faces. Usually, the students would walk around the school at this hour and hang out. Some noises came from the kitchen or the TV room. She didn’t recognise JJ’s voice. Maybe he was in his room.

Y/N made a mental note to spend more time with the boy. She didn’t keep her promise when she told him she’d come to him before the accident happened. 

“Well, look at you,” said a voice beside her. 

Y/N jumped, gasping. She was ready to hit the man in his face. “Jesus, Peter,” she glared at him. “You scared me, you ass,” she punched him in the shoulder. He could have easily dodged it, but he decided to not use his ability and laughed it off. 

“You get scared easily, Y/N. You should work on that,” he winked at her. “Can I walk with you?” he raised a brow. 

“You already are, so why ask?” she grinned at him. 

They walked out of the school and headed to the main entrance gate. Peter kept his hands behind his back. He had silver aviator goggles on top of his head that matched his silver jacket. “So, Y/N, what is your weirdness? You know about mine. I want to know about yours.” 

That made her laugh. “Nice way of saying it. I have, uh, protective abilities?” 

“You ask, or you know?” 

She glared at him playfully. “I know. I wasn’t sure if that description was correct. Let me put it this way - I can create and manipulate forcefields.” 

“Nice.” That was his only comment. “So, you have a codename?” 

“What?” she raised a brow. 

“You know, like Scott is Cyclops. Logan is Wolverine. I am Quicksilver,” he explained. “Do you have any name you go by?” 

Wheels were turning inside her head. “No,” she said. “I never thought about it, actually. Do I need one?” Was it necessary to have a codename? Holy shit, Logan was called the Wolverine? She could see why. It suited him well. 

“That’s up to you, I guess.  Okay, changing the topic - how long have you been here?” 

“Over a month,” she replied. “It’s been a hell of a ride. What about you?” 

He thought about it. “It’s been over a decade. I love this place, to be honest.” 

They slowly approached the main gate. They could see some people standing there, talking. Y/N was sure Logan was not there. “You took a break or something?” 

Peter nodded. “I needed some time off. It was all overwhelming. Charles granted me a lengthy vacation. I took a break, travelled the States, and here I am, ready to work again.”

Storm, Kitty and Kurt were the first three there, chatting. Y/N felt some excitement building inside of her. It was nice being a part of something bigger and better. Both Storm and Kitty were great women and friends. Were they friends? God, she hoped so. The last three to arrive were Bobby, Logan and Rogue. Rogue and Logan were squabbling. She couldn’t hear what it was about until she heard: “Let it fucking go, Rogue.” 

She had to chuckle. What got Logan so worked up? 

“Let’s fucking go, people,” Peter called them.

Thus, a thirty-minute walk to the bar started. Rogue linked arms with Y/N, and they walked ahead of everyone. Her arms were covered with gloves that hid under the denim jacket. That way, she could touch the other woman without fear of hurting her.

“Isn’t it annoying?” Y/N asked her. 

“The gloves? Yes, a little bit. Luckily, I can touch Remy without them,” she said with a smile. “He’s the only person that I won’t hurt. I don’t know how it is possible, but I don’t care. What matters is that I can touch the person I love.” 

“What if you subconsciously learnt to not hurt him?” Y/N thought out loud. “I can shut my brain from the Professor. I don’t know how, but I do it. Well, I might have already figured it out.”

They talked together the entire way to the bar. Rogue wouldn’t let anyone speak to Y/N. She wanted to have her for herself and get to know the woman better. 

Y/N felt a pair of eyes on her back the whole time. She suppressed the urge to turn around and look at Logan. She was more than sure it was him staring at her. It kept happening until they arrived at the empty bar. 

It looked like an old dive bar. Country music was playing in the background. An older-looking man was standing behind the bar, cleaning glasses. He had short white hair and glasses on his nose. When his grey eyes found a group of mutants at the door, he smiled. 

“Welcome, friends,” he greeted them with a raspy voice. “I was wondering when I will see you again. Come, sit. Ah, I see a new face here,” his lips crooked into a smile. 

Rogue grabbed Y/N by the shoulder and brought her closer to the man. “This is Y/N,” she said happily. “She’s been with us for some time now.” 

“Nice to meet you,” said Y/N, shaking hands with the man. 

“What can I get you, sweetheart?” he asked. 

“A beer would be nice, thank you,” she replied with a smile. They told her the owner was a mutant. What was his mutation? 

Rogue took her to the table where the rest of the people were seated. Y/N sat next to Storm, right opposite Logan. Rogue sat by the man’s side. 

It felt like a friendly gathering. The atmosphere was inviting. It’s been years since Y/N felt safe in a group. They were all like her, unique and not criminals. When Y/N’s eyes travelled around the table, her soul got warmer and relaxed. A gentle smile appeared on her face. She listened to Bobby talk about his day. The teens got on his nerves today. 

“In case you haven’t heard,” Storm interrupted him. “Y/N will become the newest English and Literature teacher.” 

“No kidding!” Rogue shouted excitedly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

All eyes were on her now. “I asked the Professor today,” she explained. “I don’t know. I simply didn’t. I kind of forgot, I guess.” 

“Another smartass,” Logan commented. 

“Aren’t you one, too?” Y/N glared at him, her lips turning into a grin. “Listen, I asked if he’d need an English teacher, and Charles said yes. I’m glad that I would be able to repay him at least a little.” 

The bartender brought them a tray of beers. They all grabbed one. Y/N put the drink to her lips and took a sip. Then another one. Before she knew it, she drank the whole glass in one go. She burped a little and smiled. “Damn, that was a good beer.” When her eyes lifted from the empty glass, everyone stared at her. Some had their mouths open, and others were impressed. “What? It’s been years.” 

“You’ll be out before you know it,” Bobby warned her. “Be careful.” 

“So,” Rogue clapped her hands. It got everyone’s attention. “Since we are all here, let’s get more information about Y/N.” 

“Oh, no,” Y/N hid her face in her hands.

“Oh, come on, Y/N,” Storm nudged her shoulder. “We want to know everything about you. Let’s start with the basics. Tell us something interesting about yourself. For example, I like gardening.” 

Y/N peeked at Storm, raising a brow. “That’s quite shocking. I could never picture you in a garden, on your knees and covered in dirt.” 

“The more you know. Now, it’s your turn.” 

“Ah,” Y/N sighed and thought about her life. “I used to attend guitar lessons,” she said after a while. “My parents made me take guitar lessons. That was years ago. I don’t think I remember anything.” 

“At least someone who’s not tone-deaf,” Peter commented. “I can’t listen to some of you singing off-key.” 

“I’m saying I played the guitar, not that I can sing,” Y/N corrected him. 

“It’s still the same,” Peter shrugged. 

“Anything else?” Storm asked. 

Y/N’s eyes moved around the place. She found darts and a pool table farther away. “Nothing is interesting about me,” she said. “I’m going to get another beer. Anyone want anything else?” she asked them. 

Y/N’s eyes fell on Logan’s empty glass, and she raised a brow. Their eyes locked. It was a silent plea to save her from the interrogation. “I’ll go with you,” he said. 

They walked from the table and straight to the bar. Logan ordered them more beer. He leaned against the wooden counter, elbows resting on it. “Everyone is curious about you,” he commented. 

“I hate that,” she sighed. “It’s like going to a confession. They all get information, and I get nothing out of it. It makes me nervous. I feel like the least interesting person here.” She turned her body to him. “Back in the day, when I started high school, this was a nightmare. People wanted to know everything to convince themselves that their lives were more interesting than others.” 

Logan’s eyes travelled around her body until they landed back on her face. “True,” he shrugged. “But here, people are genuinely curious and want to know you. You are part of the team, you know?” 

“It feels forced,” said Y/N. 

The bartender handed them beers, and he winked at Y/N. She chuckled at that. He wasn’t too discreet about the flirting. Then again, she didn’t mind. 

Her eyes landed on the pool table again. “Listen. Do you want to play?” she pointed with her head. 

Logan turned to look at it and then back at her, smirking. “Not only do you want me to kick your ass during training. You also want to lose playing pool?” 

“Is that a threat I hear in your voice? I will beat you,” she threatened with a finger.

“Only one way to find out, princess,” he grabbed his beer. “We’ll have a game, Stan,” Logan said to the bartender. 

Storm and Kitty watched them walk around the pool table and play. They both had grins on their faces, squabbling here and there. “They are so blind,” Kitty whispered to Storm.

“Let them have this dance,” Storm whispered back. “Five bucks, they’ll end up together by the end of the month.” 

“I’m giving them a week,” Bobby joined on the bet. 

Y/N held the billiard cue tightly in her hand. Logan was the one who started the game. They flipped a coin, and he won. Logan got himself solids while Y/N remained with the stripes. When he screwed up his move, it was time for her to play. The last time she played pool was years ago. It was a game she wasn’t able to master. All she could do was to try and have a good time. 

She sank one of her balls and moved to another one. She leaned over the table, placed the cue on the table and focused. There weren’t any good shots for her. Therefore, she had to play something and try. 

Logan stood next to her and laughed. “Your stance is wrong,” he said. He reached for her hand and brought it higher on the cue. 

His body was oh so close to her, and Y/N forgot how to breathe. She could smell the cigars, a heavy man’s cologne and something musky. When he pulled away, his hand brushed against her lower back. It made her hit a ball that sank one of his solid balls. “Shit,” she cursed. 

Logan’s howling laughter echoed around the bar. “You really want me to win, princess.” 

“You are distracting me,” she frowned at him when she straightened her stance. She reached for her beer and drank from it. 

Her eyes were stalking him, watching his every move. When did he light up a cigar? He held it between his lips while he played his turn. Y/N huffed. She took off her leather jacket and threw it on the nearest chair. Then, she fixed her blouse and popped open the highest button to show some cleavage. If he could distract, so could she. 

He sank two other balls when the third try was unsuccessful. “Fuck,” he growled. 

Y/N snickered. She walked to the table and scanned her stripes. This round sucked. There was nothing good to play. She sat at the edge and held the cue behind her back. 

“You won’t be able to make it,” Logan stared at the scene. “It’s a difficult move, kid.” 

Y/N exhaled and hit the red stripe ball perfectly. “Ha!” she shouted happily when the ball sank. “Did you see that?” 

Logan smiled at her and rolled his eyes. “Go on, it’s still your turn,” he goaded her. “Show me what else you can do.” He took a drag of the cigar.

Y/N felt confident. Even though she was three balls behind, she started to believe she could win. She gave him a smug face as she walked around the table, trying to find another good shot. It was all fun and games. When she brushed past him, Logan wanted to grab her by the neck and bring her lips to his. He only took a deep breath and pushed the thoughts away. 

Y/N leaned over the table and hovered the cue on the table. There was one ball that had the potential of being taken down. She took a deep breath. Again, Y/N felt Logan’s eyes on her body. She started burning up. With this knowledge, she hit the white ball, and with some dumb luck, she managed to sink the black eight ball. 

“No!” she shouted, horrified. 

Logan’s roaring laughter brought everyone’s attention. “Holy shit,” he placed a hand on his belly. “You did not!”

Y/N leaned against a wall and hid her head in her arms. “What the fuck was that?!” she shouted, pissed. 

Laughter came from the table where the rest of the people sat. They saw what happened. “Oh, Y/N, no,” Kitty gasped, laughing. 

“I’m never playing this dumb game again,” Y/N made a dramatic announcement. “Oh my god,” she pushed from the wall and turned around. She noticed all eyes on her. “Listen,” she blushed. “I am talented. I am the best there is. I should stick to drinking,” she said ironically. 

“Hey, hey,” Logan walked to her and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “If you’d like, I can also kick your ass while playing darts,” he teased. 

She glared at him. “Very funny,” she shook off his hand and went to get her beer. “I will kick your ass when we have the next training session,” she threatened. Once she got to her beer, she went back to him. “I will find a way to burn all your clothes.”

Logan tilted his head and grinned. “If you want to see me without clothes, all you need to do is ask.” 

“Is that a challenge?” she looked into his eyes and wiggled her eyebrows. “Think twice, or you might regret it.” And then, she drank the rest of her second beer in one go. “Refill?” 

He snorted. “You’ll get drunk, princess.” 

“Well, you only live once, right?” she shrugged and walked to the bar to order another beer. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. Everyone talked and laughed. Y/N wasn’t interrogated as she was at the very beginning. Bobby told her about the students and what to expect from them. Kitty added some of her funniest memories and challenges as a teacher. Storm included what to do when the school is under attack.

“It happens,” she said. “Not often, but at least once a year.” 

Before they knew it, Y/N was on her fifth beer and feeling it. Her face was burning, the world spinning, and she could feel it in her veins. Her voice got louder, and words went flying out of her mouth.

“I love my life,” Y/N said out of nowhere. Some giggles spread around. “Everything’s good, you know? I have a place to sleep, food to eat, and amazing friends,” she said with a wide smile. “I fucking hope we are friends.”

“Of course we are,” Bobby nodded.

“No more beer for you, young lady,” said Peter. “By the way, how is it possible to get drunk from beer?” 

She took a big, dramatic breath. “Let me tell you a short story, my friend. When you are locked up for years, barely able to eat and an involuntary abstainer, you can get drunk easily.” 

More laughter followed. “Take it easy, girl,” Storm patted her shoulder. 

Y/N stood up from their table. “I’m going outside to take a breather and clear my head.” She tripped over her feet but managed to stand tall. “It’s the floors,” she blamed it. 

The midnight air was cold. Y/N walked outside without her leather jacket. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes. Getting drunk was not the plan. On the other hand, the beer tasted good. It eased her nerves. Walking around Logan got easier the more she drank. That fucker was such a tease. 

Y/N let her hair loose and put the elastic band between her fingers. She let her hair fall over her shoulders and face. 

How would his lips feel against mine? Where did that question come from? Her mind was racing miles. All she could see was Logan’s face and those lips she wanted to taste. She shook her head to get rid of those thoughts. 

“You okay, kid?” 

She sighed. Of course, Logan would be the first one to check up on her. It was nice. But it brought back all those impure thoughts. 

“I’d like another beer,” she said to him. 

“Go get some. But I’m warning ya, I’m not the one carrying ya back to the school.” 

“I’m not asking you to,” Y/N winked at him. When she took a step, she almost tripped again. Sighing, she said, “Seriously, what is with the floor?” 

“Y/N, you are drunk,” said Logan. “The floor is fine. Also, you are outside, so there is ground under your feet. I think it’s time to go back to school.” 

“You are right,” she nodded and yawned. “I’m going to get my jacket. I’ll head back to school. You guys have fun.” Y/N wanted to walk inside to get her belongings. However, Logan stopped her. Y/N was about to protest, but she noticed he already had her jacket. “How did you get that? You are not the one who can run fast. That’s Peter.” 

Logan was a bit annoyed when she mentioned his name. He put the jacket around her shoulders. “Come on, princess. Let’s get ya home.” 

“You are coming with me?” she looked up at him, confused. “Why?”

“You think I’m letting you walk there alone in this state? Come on, Y/N, I’m not leaving you when you are drunk and barely able to walk on your own.” 

A bright smile appeared on her face. “Aw, you are my knight in shining armour,” she sang.