#i know they can move quickly but it looks like when they crawl on someone they dont do that unless the person flinches a bunch

[girlwithadragonheart]

Thinking about Halsin and a depressed reader. Someone who knows they aren't alright, and is frustrated with themselves for not being able to communicate that. Someone who, when asked what's wrong? will answer, nothing, I'm okay, or I don't know because that's the only way they can properly communicate that something is, in fact, wrong.

Someone who starts to feel guilty because they can't ease their companions' minds because that would effectively be lying to them and telling them they're okay when they obviously aren't isn't alright. But they also can't just come out and say what the issue is because there is no issue, they just don't feel good.

Halsin sees the gradual change. The way you stop coming out around the others. The way your sentences get shorter and shorter, and you smile less and less. The few times you do, it doesn't quite reach your eyes. You have moments of joy, of course, but it quickly dissipates, leaving you with that emptiness that won't leave you alone.

Halsin would like to say he knows how to help that because he's lived it, but the truth is he doesn't. He spent a century feeling how you feel and the only way it lifted was to solve the root of the problem---the Shadow Curse. But how do you kill the weed if you can't find its roots?

He doesn't know, and watching you sleep more and more, becoming less inclined to solve anything that's a threat to you, it just kills him inside.

He finds himself approaching your tent one night when you skip dinner. He finds you near-asleep, rolled away from him with an arm supporting your head. Halsin kneels down beside you, resting one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hips, gently squeezing you awake.

You roll toward him slowly, and he looks down at your bleary eyes. "I'm worried about you."

You huff, sitting up and throwing the blankets aside. "Everyone is. I don't know what you want me to say."

"Can you at least talk to me about it?" Halsin asks gently.

Gods, but you want to. "I don't know how. I don't know what's wrong with me," your eyes tear up.

Halsin's brow furrows. The last thing he intended was to make you cry, but perhaps letting something out would do you some good. "Come here," he says in a gentle, commanding tone.

Following directions is all you know how to do right now, so you crawl over to him, settling yourself against his chest. He shifts his weight as though you aren't even there until he settles, wrapping his thick arms around you. He's soft. Comforting.

Gradually, your tears start to fall. Everything comes out as though a dam has burst and you can't reel it in if you try. Halsin pets your hair gently, smoothing it down, his other hand wrapped protectively around your waist where you straddle him.

The hand in your hair moves to your back, rubbing and massaging his fingertips into your taught muscles. "It's okay to not be okay," he says quietly. "All you have to tell me is 'I'm not okay' and I'm right here, alright, little dove?"

You nod blearily, sniffling against his shoulder.

"We'll get through this together. One step at a time, even if I have to hold your hand the whole way through."

-----------

This got so much longer than I thought it would oops, I'm having a night.

@halsinsgate Daddy Issues, rise!

[savvyreyes4587]

The Red Woman

PM!Dazai x Fem!Reader

Nakahara Chuuya x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're alive and well but a new problem pops up and Dazai chose to get involved.

Author's note: A small filler chapter to make up for my disappearance, this one is written through my arm pain, lol! So enjoy!

Warnings: lots of manipulation, child manipulation(is that thing?), reader's past… I think that's it?

Taglist: @v15aexe @hotwomanlythings @zaushimo @mintyymao @destinyisastar @lilyosamu

"Now, my little Weaver. Let's try this again." The brunette told the small girl in front of her, so young, so naive so… vulnerable.

"Eve-"

"No, Viktor, she can do it! She did it before, she can do it again." Then her angry red eyes turned to the girl who tried to make herself smaller under her gaze, afraid to anger the bad woman even more.

"Now, do it, my sweet child." Evelyn said in that sweet as honey tone, one she mastered to give a false sense of saftey but abuse can resemble affection to people starved from it and the time weaver… she was starting.

The girl crawled on the mat carfully, her eyes still on the ground, not wanting to see the evil lurking beneath her red orbs, she even sometimes felt like she could be killed just by looking into them.

With her small voice that was barley heard from how small she talked… allowed to talk, she wandered, her young mind, pure, innocent.

"What if I hurt someone again?" She now settled beside her 'mentor', her knees pulled to her chest, her arms resting above them as a protective wall, even if she knew nothing she could do could protect her.

Evelyn smiled a smile that resembled that of a mother's, one filled with love and understand, two things she lacked yet she stilll took the weaver's smaller hands into hers and turning her to look into her eyes.

"Now, now. What did we day about off-rails experiments?" Her tone was soothing, calming and utterly pretty, which made the weaver believe taht not all evil came in a bad shape… some of them were so pretty.

The weaver answered, her eyes drifting left and right as her cute voice sounded. "We forget about them and move on to the next try."

"Exactly and besides, we're not experimenting on someone this time." Eve told the little girl in a cheerful manner, ignoring the disappointed looks Viktor was giving her.

The little girl's eyes shined with hope and happiness, sitting down on her knees and looking up at the woman and she was the happiest Eve saw her since she got her. "We're not?"

Even shook her head. "No and wanna know something else?"

The girl nodded her head frantically, excited to know another good thing as her body buzzed with excitement.

"If you do this successfully… I'll take you to see your sister."

"Really?"

Evelyn lips tugged upwards, glad to her manipulation worked. "Really."

And for the first time in months, the weaver smiled, unlike any other time she smiled because she desperately wanted to see her sister… she missed her sister.

Eve spoke again as Viktor shuffled behind them to get something. "Now, all I want you to do is change time around…"

Viktor placed something in Eve's hand. "…this apple."

"Apple?" The weaver was curious and kind of nervous… she never experimented on something not someone… what if she failed… shs wouldn't get to see her sister.

Eve hummed, placing the apple right in front of the girl, it looked delicious that the weaver wanted to leap and take bite of it after her meals were lessened after her lazt failure….

"I simply want you to make time pass only for the apple… not us."

The weaver looked at her, unsure before she looked up at Viktor behind her… Viktor was nice, she liked Viktor, he gave her sweets when Eve wasn't around and he smiled at her reassuringly.

Then she let her hand out of her cocoon, and brought close to the apple and closed her eyes--

"No, eyes open, remember?" Eve snapped quickly and the girl opened her eyes widely, terrified from the sudden change in the angry red woman.

With an agonising effort, a purple rope appeared from under the girl's skin, moving around her arm like a snake, going around it im circles until it decorating her arm like a second skin before it wrapped around the apple.

The weaver fought against the utter pain that followed each time she let a rope out, but a whimper escaped her and if Eve heard it, she simply didn't care and kept on watching the rope with fascination.

The girl was shaking slightly, terrified of what the red woman would do to her if she failed again or worse, what she would do to her sister.

Slowly, the purple halo wrapped around the apple the same way it did the weaver and then it was almost unnoticeable but something in the apple was changing… it was rotting as if it had been out in the open for weeks, only it was here for seconds.

The weaver's ability was evolving rapidly recently and this was as much proof as needed when the apple rotted completely in her ropes hold in the matter of seconds and Eve laughed in shock.

A few ragged breaths left the girl as pain hit her for overusing her ability but she then soon realised that she actually did it… she managed to work her ability on an object, the experiment was successful.

"Good job, my little weaver!" Eve opened her palm for a high five with a smile and the girl couldn't resist as she mirror her grin and hit their palms together sweetly.

She could see her sister…

Your head was pounding as if someone was banging on it with a hammer, unnecessarily hard and opening your eyes took effort when they felt like they were glued shut somehow.

So weak, always so weak, Weaver.

That had your eyes snapping wide open and frantically looking around, searched for her, afraid that she was here somewhere, ready to kill you for talking.

"Hey, hey, calm down." Dazai's voice sounded beside you, his bandaged hands pushing down on your shoulders, forcing you to lie down on and in instant your mind was set at ease looking into his chocolate brown eye.

She wasn't here… he was and he was the one that saved you from a certain death and your body acted on its own will as your hand grabbed his wrist, pulling on it in a suffocating grip.

His gaze went to your hand, something weird happening to his heart at the thought of you seeking him, for protection or for anything else but he didn’t care, as long as you were close he never cared.

One of his cold hands covered yours and he murmured gently. "It's okay, Belladonna. You're okay."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and let your grip flatter before letting go of his wrist with a nod but you were still not sure, something was wrong with you… it felt like she was still there with you.

"What happened? After I passed out I mean." You asked with a sore throat but something about that event was nagging at you deeply and you needed to know why.

Dazai stared ahead without an answer for a while but you knew how he processed by now, he needed to remember all aspects before uttering a single word to you.

"That girl escaped, her subordinates saved her after Hirotsu-san knocked her out and then they retreated." He announced his eye having a once over on your face, looking for something and you manged to catch on rather swiftly.

With a shake of your head, you spoke firmly, partially because you were offended by his unspoken accusation. "I don't know why my ability didn't work on her either, so don't you dare accuse me--"

His eye sliced to yours and you shut up the second it did. "I wasn't going to accuse you, you're smarter than betraying the mafia in the first few months anyway."

He then stood up and went over to the window in your 'hospital' room, unmoving as his gaze stuck outside and you sat up the in the bed.

"Then what is it?" You asked, now more curious than ever because accusing would have made sense but whatever is playing out in his brain now… isn't.

"Last to my knowledge and correct me if I'm wrong even though I'm mostly not, but no one really knows your ability up close, right?" Not a glance was spared your way as he talked, still lost in his haze outside.

Your brows dipped in confusion as you sorted through your memories, the ones you remembered anyways, and came empty handed. "No, no one did."

Dazai hummed and his silence returned which had you irritated now, you needed answers.

"What's happening Dazai?" You pressed on through the unease filling your whole body, fueling it with nerves.

He now turned to you again, his eye belonged to that of the demon Prodigy. "They sent someone who could counter your ability, someone they knew could do that which means they know your ability-"

He raised his hand in demonstration. "-like the back of their hand."

Your mind went blank, sweat forming on my forehead as you took his words in. If that was true then only a handful of people knew your ability…

"The one leading them is someone you know, Bella. The one leading them is someone who knows you and to my knowledge only one person does that so it's either him or…"

He trailed off but you knew what he meant… what he wanted to hear and what you dread.

"It's not Keisuke… it's her." You whispered harshly, fist tightening over the blanket covering you as you remembered her… the red woman.

"Who is 'her'?" He leaned down, hands cornering on each side of your body, trapping with his body while his eye was breaking into your soul.

"Evelyn Sable." You said her name, spoke it after she threatened you that she would seal it shut if you told but you weren't afraid because that man in front of you was many things but one thing wasn't one of them… he was no coward… and he loved a good challenge.

He nodded in a scary way before pulling back with that smirk you knew meant trouble, only this time not just for him.

I'm coming, Sable.

Comment if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Epilogue - Trouble Trouble, Quadruple Trouble

Synopsis: In less than a decade, Alastor's children have found mischief at every turn. What can he say, it runs in their blood.

Master List

WARNING! It's long :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We’re going to get in so much trouble…” Lucia whispered loud enough for everyone to hear. Her blond hair had been pulled back in a pony tail, sporting a similar style that her mother, Reagan, used when she was her age. Her younger brother who was too young to have been involved in their scandal was still back home.

“Don’t tell anyone and we won’t,” Piranha snapped over her shoulder as she closed the portal behind them all. Piranha had the striking red hair of her father and the strong, heavy horns of her mother. She was the unlucky soul to have gotten her father’s deer tail while her twin sister got the long, beautiful dragon tail. It was a sore spot between the two of them.

Beside Piranha was Nyx, the other strong personality of their friend group. Nyx’s parents were Angel Dust and Husker, and had the most interesting fur out of everyone. He was mostly black but it looked like someone had splashed white paint all over him. His wings were just as muddled but red and white. His ears were as straight as a stick and his personality a stick in the ass.

“You can always go home,” he said, taking the portal gem from Piranha and putting it in his pocket. The two of them were a deadly pair together despite Piranha being twelve and him being ten. No one would’ve guessed from his personality that he was the youngest of the group.

“This way,” Wren motioned, slipping away from the group and bounding through the forest like a deer. Wren was the younger—smaller—of the Hartfelt twins. She had the same pointy ears as Alastor but they were a little further down on her head and a tad darker thanks to her mother. Her horns were beginning to twist around the back of her head.

The group followed quickly after her, the red scaly tail moving like ocean waves. Everyone except Lucia had summoned a small ball of light to help them see their path. While no one dared to make fun of Lucia’s lack of magic, it was still something she felt each time magic was used around her.

It made her feel small and weak. Just a defenseless Human.

They wandered the forest for a little longer, changing directions left and right and going in circles. Both Piranha and Nyx were growing increasingly annoyed as Wren searched for the entrance.

“We’re going in circles!” Piranha barked first.

“I thought you said you knew where it was,” Nyx added. He never made a mean comment at Wren unless Piranha was visibly annoyed with her sister. He had a scar on the underside of his jaw from where she had attacked him last time he made a comment like that.

“I do!” Wren yelled as she dove across them into another bramble. “I’m just…trying to find it.”

“We only have so much time,” Piranha reminded her.

“I know!” Wren smacked a branch out of her face. “But a forest changes, you know. Things get overgrown.”

“Son of…” Piranha pinched the bridge of her nose. All of them were wearing dark, rough clothing to keep them hidden in the darkness should they need to run or hide. The gala their parents were attending would only last so long and their babysitter would likely get out of their trap soon. They all know that the first pair of parents to be told was the Hartfelts.

“Found it! I found it!”

Everyone hustled over as Wren pried open a metal door of some kind, groaning loudly as she did. Black abyss yawned before them.

There was a moment of silence as old, stale air rushed to the surface. Everyone waited. Were they expecting a monster to come crawling out of it? It wasn’t like anything could survive down there.

"Let’s go." Piranha was the first to take the uneven, lopsided stairs. She sent her ball of light ahead of her to light the way and clean up any bugs or spiders. Wren was the last to enter so she could pull the door—latch?—shut.

Lucia’s legs felt like they were ready to give out. She had no reason to be scared when she was surrounded by three Demons—well, Demon and Demi-Demons—but what would happen if they were all preoccupied or trying to fight while she stood helplessly to the side? Without them, she was dead. She had a pocket knife but that only did so much, and did exactly nothing against a Demon or mage.

Even so, she shouldn’t be as nervous as she was given that the twins had already had extensive training with their parents. Every Monday they were pulled from classes for magic training and even more on the weekends.

She wished she hadn’t come with them. If she hadn’t, she would be worried sick over their safety and the consequences they’d likely have to face when they went back. It wasn’t the first—or last—time they had corralled her into their mischief. Though Lucia herself never got more than a lecture and some privileges revoked for a few days. The others…she wished she didn't know what their consequences were.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as the three enhanced their magic to keep fresh air flowing around them. She could always sense when magic was nearby. She seemed to also have a sixth sense for differentiating whose magic was whose without looking.

They continued down the staircase until they came an opening, giving way to a poorly dented warehouse. It looked like it was meant to be much bigger but magic and the earth had crushed it inwards. Old machine belts and rusted parts lay scattered to the sides.

“This is insane,” Nyx breathed, voice echoing in the big space. They clambered down the stairs and over the different machinery. Lucia watched from afar as they crawled around.

“You know..." Wren sprouted red wings and flapped up to the second level, perching like a bird on the railing. “Rumor has it that this place is cursed. And no one even knows where the other one is.”

“Other one, what?” Lucia asked, finding a way up to the second level. Wren was the more reasonable of the three and had her mother’s empathy. It’s what made her and Wren such a good pair (when Wren wasn’t around the other two).

“This was the first battle. The second one is in frozen land. They made that one sink too,” Wren explained. Lucia shivered. It always felt like she was too cold. “It’s also where your mother was asked to join Blackwater.”

The name made everyone’s fur and hair stick up. They had heard the haunting stories of the man who nearly killed the Hartfelts; of the man who had divine intervention just so he could destroy the city. Wren and Piranha had heard plenty of what the man was capable of but they never got the exact details of the big showdown. Alastor seemed willing to share but his soulmate kept him quiet.

Lucia stared at her friend. Her mother, Reagan, had mentioned Blackwater when Lucia was having trouble making friends at school. She was one of the few, rare souls who didn’t have magic and her mother had suffered similar troubles. Reagan was always trying to help her find her confidence in being a true Human, but it didn’t seem to have the effect she wanted.

What surprised Lucia the most was that Wren knew about the potential agreement between Reagan and Blackwater. Reagan had told her to keep it quiet and not mention the incident to other people. Apparently the potential agreement had sown seeds of doubt in the community back then and made it even harder for her mother to make friends, too. How did Wren know about this?

“How do you know so much?” Piranha demanded, speaking her thoughts.

“Ma told me,” Wren replied, walking on the old railing like a tightrope.

“When did Ma tell you?” Piranha was obviously upset and hurt that she wasn’t told any of this information.

“Sometimes she lets things slip if I catch her in a sympathetic mood.” Wren flashed an evil smile over her shoulder. Everyone knew she was more quiet and empathetic around people. She was known for having all kinds of information just from acting quiet, shy, and understanding.

Lucia had discovered within a week of being friends with her that she had a very different personality on the inside.

Piranha used wind to push her sister off balance. It did nothing since Wren’s wings were already outstretched but it was still an inconvenience. Lucia waited for her friend to fly back up.

“Do you think there’s cameras here?” Nyx asked as he, too, flapped up to join them. It was so strange to see the bright red linings of his wings flash as he did. It was a little disorienting.

“Electricity won’t work here,” Piranha answered. She used a dark purple tentacle to pull herself up to the landing. She had perfectly capable wings but it was far faster to use tentacles instead of sprouting the wings for a small jump. Her sister, however, lacked the tentacle feature.

“Magic makes anything possible,” Nyx said as he opened a random door and peered in. Everything was covered in spiderwebs and the metal was peeling away to reveal more rust.

"What if someone's here?" Lucia asked, sparked with the sudden feeling that they weren't alone.

"Relax, dear," Piranha said as she and Nyx examined the screens mounted on the wall, "Blackwater is long gone. We're just exploring."

Lucia hated when Piranha called her 'dear'. It was a term that Alastor used on other people and his daughter had his way of making it sound like an insult. "Then I really don't think we should try messing with anything. He was an inventor. What if some of his things came to life?"

"He didn't create technology that could think for itself," Nyx said just as condescendingly, "besides, it's all ancient anyways."

"But...didn't he make devices that could stop someone's magic?"

"Why does that bother you?" Piranha asked. She realized an instant later that she shouldn't have said that. Lucia's head fell and she shifted her weight between her feet. "Sorry. It should be fine."

"There should be a generator that we can power back on. Let's go find it," Nyx offered, trying to turn the conversation around and give them all something to do.

The remark still stung as they explored the hallways branching off the warehouse. Wren and Lucia walked silently together in one direction while Nyx and Piranha went the other way, not without all promising not to pull any dark jokes while they were down here.

Wren was already attuned to her friend's mood and tried to think of ways to make her feel better. She was normally good at that but whenever it came to the subject of Lucia's lack of magic...it wasn't quite so easy.

So, Wren went the curiosity route. "You know, when I was sneaking around the city, I heard people talking about the ring fights."

"What about them?" Lucia asked, still hurt and trying not to sound too deflated.

"They were mostly talking about how my ma was raised in them but they mentioned your mother a few times."

That made Lucia lift her head, all traces of defeat gone from her shoulders. Her mother occasionally mentioned the rings she used to fight in but it was nothing more than a mention when she was trying to make Lucia feel grateful for the little city. "What did they say?"

Wren smiled, her pointy ear flicking like it usually did when she got happy. She slid her hands in her pocket as she recounted the conversation, "It was mostly about how fitting it was for Ma to adopt your mother. They said they were both ruthless and aggressive. But then someone else said that they had to be, especially if Ma didn't use all her power and your mother had none. Not many pure Humans can survive ring fights."

Lucia let out a sigh as she stepped closer so their arms brushed. "I wish she would tell me more."

"Me too," Wren agreed, referring to both mothers. Technically speaking, Reagan was Wren's adopted sister but she was treated more like an aunt because of the age difference. She, Uncle Husker, and Aunt Charlie and Vaggie were the only souls who were allowed to babysit them. Aunt Rosie's was a special getaway every now and then.

It wasn't a secret that Mrs. Hartfelt, the Dragon Demon, was overly protective over her and Piranha. It wasn't until last year that they were starting to have more freedom around the city. They didn't have to explain where they were going or what they were doing to the tiniest detail. Now, they could go anywhere so long as they stayed in the city and went back to the house before dark.

However, both Wren and Piranha knew their mother could always sense where they were in the city. Their father wasn't that far off either, though he was more of the retriever if something went wrong. And when he came after them, they might as well give up. No one could hide from him.

"Is that why you guys wanted to come here?" Lucia asked as they peered into an empty room. The warehouse had clearly been cleaned or looted before they arrived. Aside from rust, there were obvious signs of fire damage likely from when it went underground.

"I know we're not really teenagers yet but it feels like they still treat us like we're two years old," Wren admitted. Lucia had heard about the difficulties between the family. "Pa wants to tell us more. I can see it sometimes. But Ma...it feels...I don't know...it feels like she doesn't trust us."

"Trust you in what way?" They had come to a stop. Wren's eyes were downcast and her tail curled around her right leg.

"Trust us to take care of ourselves. Trust us to learn new things. I just...I don't know. It's weird when it feels like Pa wants us to be adults as soon as possible and Ma wants us to stay as little kids. But even Pa keeps certain adult things from us. It's just...so confusing."

"I'm sorry," Lucia sympathized, placing a light hand on her friend's back. Wren was several inches taller than her, thanks to her father's genes, but in that moment she looked exactly her age. She put her arm around Lucia's shoulders and they stood there in that embrace for a few heartbeats.

"Thank you for listening," Wren said, giving a final squeeze before letting go.

"Thank you for talking. I feel like you never talk to people about anything."

"I talk just fine," Wren's tone turned lighter as she tried to change the atmosphere. "People just talk too--"

Lights flickered on with a loud thud somewhere in the walls. Wren's light slipped away as they furiously blinked their eyes to adjust to the bright light.

Found it, Piranha's voice whispered quietly in Wren's head. Every now and then the two of them were able to 'Mind Talk', as they called it. It happened at random points and they were never quite able to harness the ability. It was something they kept as their own little secret from other people, including their parents who had a strange severed-and-patched bond.

"Are we sure there's no one in here?" Lucia asked, still unable to shake the feeling of being watched.

"Maybe you're sensing Blackwater's ghost," Wren teased, twiddling her fingers Lucia's face. She smacked Wren's hand away as they walked back to the main area.

Piranha and Nyx were already on the second floor of the warehouse and looking through old computers and screens. Wren was now in a joking mood, "Careful, Vox might jump out at you."

"That electric shark can't access anything that doesn't have Internet," Piranha replied without looking at them. Pa had been adamant about keeping technology out of the house. They were only allowed to use their phones on the porch and he always seemed to know when they tried to sneak their phones in their rooms.

"Look, surveillance footage!" Nyx hurriedly clicked on a file and all the screens lit up with old footage of the warehouse in its prime.

"Find the big fight," Piranha eagerly tapped his shoulder.

"There's millions of hours on this thing. How do I know which one to click on?"

"Go to the very end," Lucia suggested, "It all stopped working when the big fight happened."

The three of them smiled brightly at her before scrolling through the timestamps. Wren gave her a light nudge with her wing. Lucia's cheeks hurt as she beamed proudly.

"There!" Piranha pointed to a random screen. Alastor's red coat had crossed the view. Nyx backed it up and watched as he disappeared into the room, along with Blackwater, and finally his soulmate. Then he pressed play.

“Is that Ma?” Wren asked, jaw agape. They had seen a few pictures of their mother but they hadn’t seen any of her that young. They watched as Blackwater, adorned in his gray cloak, wielded fire and wind. He kept both of them at bay each time they charged him.

"How is he doing that?" Piranha leaned closer. "He's a Human."

"Probably one of his inventions," Nyx growled, claws digging into the counter.

They watched in awe and horror as the events unfolded like a movie, holding their breath and shuffling between screens to keep watching. They watched claws impale skin and fire nearly melt skin. They had never seen Alastor move like that: so fast, so agile, and so aggressive.

They saw Reagan—even younger—hold onto her adoptive mother. Then pieces of the warehouse started to contort and break away as Alastor shoved it into the earth through magic alone.

Then the screens went dark.

Everyone stared at the screens for a moment longer. They had never seen a fight like that before. They had never been told the events of what transpired in the battles. It was always some horrible memory, some secretive event that their parents tried to shove down and forget about.

“Whoah,” Nyx breathed.

“Where is that room?" Piranha asked.

All at once everyone left the room to look around on the second floor. Everything looked the same so it was hard to figure out which room was which. Some were missing doors and others were bent in half. They moved quietly, muscles tense and ready as if Blackwater himself would jump out of the walls.

Wren stepped into one of the rooms and froze. The air felt thick. She pinned her ears back as she pulled her magic up for the ready. But she found she couldn’t. Panic rose in her chest as her eyes scanned the room. No one was here. Nothing but rust and blood scattered along the floor and walls.

She stumbled out of the room, teeth bared and ready for something to jump out at her. But nothing did.

“What’s wrong?” Lucia asked, drawing the other pair’s attention. Wren’s magic was back and her eyes went dark as she summoned most of it to the surface.

She didn’t answer. She clung to the feeling of her magic ready in her hands and mind. She snarled at the space as if it was alive, staring her down and licking its lips hungrily. Ma had told her plenty about the feeling of losing magic but that was the first time Wren had actually experienced it.

And she didn’t like it.

“You found it, didn’t you?” Piranha and Nyx hurried over. They stuck their hand past the entrance but nothing happened. Lucia waited beside Wren, taking special notice of the small tremors in her hands.

Nyx went in first. He took one step and froze just as Wren had. His fur stood straight up and a shiver racked his body. He stepped out and let Piranha try, resulting in a similar reaction.

“That’s terrifying,” Piranha whispered. “How did Ma get out?”

“The footage showed the door getting burned. But if this was active—”

All three Demons went rigid, ears ramrod straight. Slowly, they all turned their heads in the direction of the staircase. Lucia couldn’t hear what they could but the looks in their eyes told her exactly what she needed to know.

Piranha lunged over the railing, wings sprouting before she hit the ground, and soared into the lower hallways. Nyx grabbed Lucia’s arm and lowered her down. The three of them disappeared into the hallways right as the lights went out.

Nyx and Wren used magic for light until they caught up with Piranha who had killed the lights. She spoke through heavy gasps, “That explains…the good...conditions…of the wires.”

“So someone lives here?” Lucia questioned, tone brimming with an ‘I told you so’.

“Several someone’s by the sound of it,” Nyx said with a glance down the hall. “Well, I think we’ve learned enough.” He reached in his pocket to withdraw the portal gem.

“Remember, don’t tell anyone about this,” Piranha reminded everyone but pointedly looked at Lucia.

“I’m not gonna tell!” Lucia whined.

“Mmhm.” Nyx finally pulled out the large gem and rubbed it.

A gunshot exploded in their ears. Nyx let out a cry as he dropped the gem to clutch his hand. The gem shattered on the floor into a million pieces.

Piranha and Wren instantly put a shield up as Nyx fell to his knees. Lucis watched in stunned silence, hand over her mouth.

“Tell me your names and I’ll keep this next bullet to myself,” the man shouted from down the hall. He was glowing all kinds of blues and whites with an equally glowing handgun. A pointy, fishy tail swept behind him.

His demand was never met. Piranha snuffed out their own lights and shrouded the man in shadows. He let out a yell as the twins dragged Nyx into a nearby room. Wren summoned a rag and pressed it down on his bleeding hand.

There was so much blood.

“What do we do?” Wren asked. “The gem is gone. We can’t get home.”

“We need to get to the surface first,” Piranha answered. Something in her shifted like a light switch. “They know we’re here. They’ve got weapons so they’re probably Slight Humans.”

She peered around the corner. The group had gathered at the end of the hall, lights flashing around wildly. They had been trained for this but never actually had to experience it.

“Nyx you gotta get up!” Piranha snapped. The boy’s tear streaked face looked up at her, pleading for the pain to stop.

“It…hurts.” A whine scratched the back of his throat. Lucia started to cry.

Piranha casted loose metal down the hall. More yells and several figures tried to dodge it in the small confines of the hallway. She whirled around and gripped Lucia hard by the shoulders. Her red pupils glowed in the darkness like something out of a nightmare.

“You’re in charge of Nyx. I need you to get him up those stairs. You don’t leave his side, understand?”

Lucia couldn’t answer. Piranha shook her shoulders then casted water across her eyes. Lucia furiously rubbed at them as Piranha demanded once more. “Got it?”

“Got it!” Lucia yelled back, tears mixing with the water.

Piranha grabbed her sister’s arm and yanked her up. “You and I are going to push them back. We’re going to be a moving shield.”

Wren nodded. They peered around the door and casted a strong gust of wind down the hallway. They snapped at Lucia to move and she sputtered to a start, hand grabbed Nyx’s good arm to pull him up. He was bigger but she was his guide in the blinding pain.

“Now!”

The twins jumped out and put up their shield. Their magenta magic blended perfectly together as they casted wind over their shoulders. Deafening gun shots echoed off the walls but they never made their mark. They chimed on the metal floor against such powerful wind. Those that did get through bounced off the invisible shield.

The men continued to yell and shoot but the girls kept going. Their ears adjusted to the horrible noise and their combined magic fueled their energy. Alone, they wouldn’t be able to last this long. Together? They were unstoppable.

They passed the stairs and held their ground to let Nyx and Lucia up. Nyx continued to whine and groan from his cradled hand, the red matching his feathers and making his white spots look as dark as his black fur.

They crossed the main area as the girls backtracked up the stairs. The men chased, still shooting and using up their ammunition. Lucia swallowed the urge to get sick as she dragged Nyx blindly up the next set of stairs. She was operating entirely off of memory and the quick light from each gunshot.

The girls shoved the men further back then disappeared around the wall. They flew up to the second floor then opened another shield. More space made it harder to defend so they wrapped their shield like a dome.

The men had stopped shooting and were now just yelling. They spat curses and growled like feral dogs despite being a fish species. In the open area with their own lights reflecting off the walls, the girls could recognize the pattern on their shirts: VoxTech

It didn’t make sense considering the deal Vox and their Ma had, but they didn’t have time to think. “Go help Nyx. Get him up the stairs so I can fly up,” Piranha ordered.

“Are you sure?” Wren asked, sparing a brief glance at her.

“Yes! Now go!”

Wren hesitated. Then she let a deep growl and ran up the stairs. Her magic stayed connected with her sister but the shield wasn’t as strong as before.

“What is VoxTech doing down here?” Piranha shouted at them.

“None of your fucking business, that’s what.” He snapped the gun up but the bullet bounced off the shield again. This time Piranha felt the magic ripple through her arms in protest.

She looked over her shoulder to see the others moving around the curve. They were more than halfway there. In the forest they could defend better. They all, including Lucia, knew how to run and hide.

“We were just exploring,” Piranha said next. When she turned around they weren’t where they had been. They climbed the first set of stairs to be on the second level with her. She scrambled up the stairs and casted a strong gust of wind as soon as they poked their heads around the corner.

Two of the five hit the railing and fell over. The other three hid behind the wall, reloading their weapons. The sound sent a chill down her spine. She couldn’t hold a shield against that much ammunition on her own.

An idea came to mind and she instantly acted on it. Her tentacles slipped from her back and slithered down the stairs. She kept them small as they rounded the corner. Then it grew five times it size and wrapped around the nearest person, yanking them into the railing and pulling their head the rest of the way.

Then she slammed it back towards the wall and felt it connect with a body. His head bounced off the wall and his body collapsed a second later.

Blinding white pain pulsed like electricity down her back. The tentacles retracted but not before she saw black blood dripping off it. The man peered around the corner to open fire again. The first few missed her by a hair before she could snap her shield back up.

Wind whistled down the stairs and yanked the gun out of his hand. He reached for another in his belt but his body was thrown back, the railing bending from his weight and giving out entirely.

Piranha dropped the shield with a sigh and hurried up the stairs. Wren had been watching from the corner. Faint blue light shone on the walls behind her. The other two had made it.

Piranha dropped to all fours to climb, exhaustion seeping in her bones and a migraine taking root. How were they going to explain Nyx’s hand? It depended entirely on what the wound looked like.

A louder, much more devastating gunshot exploded from behind. It practically flew in slow motion but Piranha knew she wasn’t going to avoid it. It whistled like a bird as it cut through the air unnaturally and chewed into her leg.

Wren’s shield went up too late. Piranha cried out as she collapsed on the stairs. Not even half a second later, the bullet bounced off the wall and struck Wren in the face.

The shield fell as pain took hold of her head. Both girls felt their magic slip from their grips like oil. It was there but they couldn’t quite grab it. True panic settled in as they scrambled for the surface.

Another gun shot.

This one bounced off the walls but didn’t touch either of them. Nyx appeared at Piranha’s side and dragged her the rest of the way.

Another gun shot.

It sliced through his shield like butter. He casted wind down the staircase to hold them off. His muscles protested as he practically carried Piranha up with his good arm. Wren blindly followed the slope of the stairs ahead, Lucia shouting their names like a beacon.

Everyone was crying and bleeding. This night had gone completely awry. They weren’t supposed to run into a group of five murderous men. The four of them were just kids. Why were they attacking children?

But they all knew the answer. Their parents had enemies which made them fair game.

And that didn’t sit right with me.

Shadows pulled from the floor and stretched down the walls like a disease. The wind abruptly stopped and the men hurried around the corner for their stroke of good luck. Well, now it was extreme unluck.

Their eyes widened as they took in the sight of my silhouetted form. My horns sprouted wide, my tail lashed behind me, and my claws curled into a half closed first as more magic swam to the surface. A moment later, Alastor manifested beside me. We were still adorned in our evening gala outfits.

“I get the one with the Angelic gun,” I muttered to Alastor.

“The rest are mine.” He didn’t wait a moment longer. His form stretched and grew as he stepped over the children with precision. The men ran for their lives as his huge yellow smile chased after them.

I lunged over the children and used the wall to slow my descent. My magic stretched back for the children and teleported them home; back to the cliffside.

Alastor had eaten two of the men by the time I got down. I pushed away the haunting memories as my magic yanked my target back into the main room. He instantly trained the gun at me but my magic pinned his arm to the floor. He began to writhe and scream, apologizing and begging me to let him live.

Swallowing the anger that was already boiling on the surface, I pounded my foot into his chest and leaned on that knee. “I’ll consider your life if you answer some questions.”

“S-Sure,” he stuttered, eyes flickering to Alastor who swallowed his last friend.

“Why is VoxTech trying to kill our children?”

“We—we didn’t know! We didn’t know those were your kids.”

“Really? The striking resemblance didn’t help you put two and two together?” I pressed my foot harder into his chest. The rest of his limbs were paralyzed with magic.

“It was dark!” he tried. “Please. We were told to kill anyone who finds this place. We couldn’t see what they looked like.”

“Bullshit,” I hissed. My footclaws punctured his clothes and into his skin. Alastor came to stand behind me, towering over the two of us with his eyes still black.

“What does Vox want with this place?”

“I-I don’t know. Please. We’re just told to keep it up and running. Please.”

I wanted to kill him. I had been itching for more flesh to rip and more blood to drink. It had been a long time since I had a good fight with someone but this just left me unsatisfied.

“Fine,” I mumbled, taking my foot of his chest and releasing his hands. Alastor’s anger simmered but he didn’t step in, mind reading mine. “I’ll send a message to Vox. Now go.”

The man didn’t waste any time. He scrambled to his feet and climbed both set of stairs. His feet sagged and it each step was like carrying a cinderblock. Eventually he fell to his knees, unable to go any further. His lungs weren’t working and his throat was practically closed.

Alastor and I appeared at the top entrance to the staircase. Our shadows fell over him and his wild, panicked eyes looked up at us.

My voice now dripped with satisfaction, “You are the message.”

Then the man collapsed.

****

Lucia handed a towel to Nyx. Piranha’s blood loss was slowing down but hadn’t stopped entirely yet. She hissed as he pressed hard on the wound. Her fingers turned to claws and she punctured the wood planks of the kitchen floor. His own hand was wrapped in a rag and cradled on his leg.

Lucia went to Wren with another towel and pressed it against the wound on her forehead. All of them were silent save for their heavy breathing and their pounding hearts.

Not only had they been caught, but they had been in danger when they had.

Lucia and Nyx would probably suffer a lecture from the Hartfelts but their consequences would come from their parents. Lucia would get the least punishment thanks to the mercy of her mother’s understanding. Nyx would have to suffer his parents’ yelling and all the neighbors would know what he had done.

But the twins?

Lucia and Nyx both exchanged looks. It was no secret that the Hartfelts were hard on the girls. It had been expected, actually, but this was one of the worst things the twins had done. They left the city grounds (breaking a rule), snuck away at night (breaking a second rule), stole a gem to teleport (breaking a third rule), and went to the very place their parents didn’t talk about.

The Hartfelts would never physically hurt their children. Sure, they had tempers to rival the entirety of Hell but they would never hurt their children. The consequences, though, would be severe and last a long time. That was how they dished out punishments. And they all had an inkling that they wouldn’t see each other again for quite some time.

There was a disturbance in the wind and they all knew what that meant.

I walked in first. Lucia scrambled out of the way as I knelt beside Wren. Her matching eyes were hidden behind tight eyelids. I touched her shoulder then lightly touched the base of the wound between her eyes. My finger moved along the rest of the wound until her skin had healed exactly the way it had been.

Then I moved over to Piranha. Her head was turned away but her hands still clutched the wounded leg. I touched her thigh and put my other hand directly over the wound. She flinched at the feeling of skin stitching back together but said nothing.

Lastly, I turned to Nyx. I held out my hand and he gingerly placed his claw on top, uncurling his sticky fingers to do so. His other hand fisted his shirt from the pain of healing a deep wound. Only a few whimpers got through.

“Take Lucia home,” Alastor demanded Nyx as the boy stood up, “Then return home yourself. Your parents are waiting for you both.”

Nyx’s ears were drooping and if Lucia had a set they would also look like that. Nyx had always been aware of the deal between his father and Alastor, but it didn’t take long for the boy to develop his own sense of fear of the man.

Nyx grabbed Lucia’s hand and crept past Alastor. His eyes never left his shoulder as if scared that he would suddenly pounce on the poor boy. Lucia kept her head down as they left through the kitchen door.

Then Alastor turned his attention to the girls.

I stood up beside him, mirroring his stance with both arms behind his back. Our thoughts were clashing over how we wanted this to go down. We couldn’t agree.

“Change into proper clothing, then come down,” he commanded. The girls said nothing as they slowly pushed themselves to their feet. They walked down the short hall and climbed the stairs, eyes glued to the floor.

Alastor and I went into the living room. He sat in one of the chairs by the fire and pinched the bridge of his nose. I sat in the other chair and rested my forehead in my hands. That’s when I noticed I was shaking.

We had almost lost our girls. If I hadn’t found them in time they would’ve been dead. If my soul wasn’t somehow still tethered to those girls, we may have never found them. On top of that, they were almost killed by an unruly group of Humans rather than by some strong, powerful foe. Something so small and insignificant almost cost us our girls.

And they were employed by Vox no less. Whether or not he told his men my children were fair game didn’t matter. He was going to suffer the consequences more than what Wren and Piranha would.

Tapping filled the room. Tapping from Alastor’s claw on his cane, tapping from my finger on the armrest, tapping from his foot, and tapping from my tail. We hadn’t expended nearly enough violence to feel the just of almost losing our children.

I breathed out slowly through my mouth. I needed to calm down. I needed to be calm because Alastor was not. One of us needed to be rational and objective for this. Even as I thought that, I found I couldn’t calm the furry and panic still in my chest.

We almost lost them.

Alastor and I met eyes at the connected thought. Our bond had grown in the years and we were discovering more and more about its limits. We often had similar train of thoughts and feelings but literal thought phrases were never heard. It was a strange kind of connection, almost like our minds were melded into one, but somehow still kept each other out of our immediate thoughts.

The girls’ slow footsteps made our ears twitch. I took another deep breath as they gradually descended the stairs, prolonging the inevitable. I tried to remind myself that this was the first time they had just experienced a near death encounter. I wanted to wait to let them grasp that reality but the other part wanted to ram home the idea.

Piranha was dressed in her usual outfit: red, wide slacks and a black shortsleeve that ruffled loosely around her elbows. Wren wore her maroon dress pants and a plaid black and white vest. She had loose white sleeves underneath and topped with a white bow on her chest. This was one of her nicer outfits and she clearly chose to wear it to appease the parent who cared about appearances: Alastor.

They avoided eye contact as they sat on the couch. Muscle memory kicked in as they crossed their legs and folded their hands neatly in their laps. With their heads still bowed they made sure to sit up straight.

For a long time, no one said anything. The fire crackled and popped and the house creaked against the coastal wind. Alastor was attempting to choose his words wisely and I let him be the first to speak.

“What the hell were you thinking?” His voice was quiet and controlled despite the storm I could sense festering in his chest.

Neither girl answered.

The storm exploded. He slammed his cane down and shot to his feet. “What the hell were you thinking!”

“W-We just wanted to see,” Piranha squeaked, “All the stories—”

“Stories?” He crossed the carpet to stand directly in front of them. Their ears fell as they curled inward on themselves. “That’s what you were chasing? Stories where your parents almost died? You wanted to see the place that could’ve been your parent’s graves?”

Both girls hung their heads even lower.

Alastor’s free hand closed and opened repeatedly as he tried to tame the anger. I finally spoke up, “You’re lucky to be alive.”

“We know.”

“No you don’t know,” I snapped, “Those men nearly killed you. They didn’t care that you were children. You know they didn’t care. That’s a fraction of the world you’re playing in when you go out there. Yet you risked it anyways.”

“We didn’t think anyone knew about it,” Wren said quietly, daring a look past her father’s cane to her mother’s angry eyes.

“Of course people know about it.” I gestured widely to the side and leaned back in the chair. “People don’t ever stop talking about Blackwater. They don’t stop talking about the Human who nearly killed two of the most powerful Demons of the century.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

“On top of it all, you nearly got your friends killed,” I went on, watching them both wince, “How do you think Husker and Angel and Lucas and Reagan would feel if they came back and were told their child was gone. That their child was dead. Murdered.”

“We get it!” Piranha barked, eyes turning black.

“No you don’t!” I jumped to my feet to meet the challenge. “You don’t know! You don’t know this world. You didn’t know what you were walking into, what you were risking. All four of you could’ve been murdered today and it was all for what? A thrill?”

Alastor stepped forward as Piranha crossed her arms and looked away. The tension still strung high in the air as everyone took a moment to breathe. Wren was in tears but kept quiet.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

Wren obeyed, wiping a tear, but Piranha was stubborn. After he told her again and she didn’t listen, he grabbed her chin and jerked it up to look at him. She bared her teeth but he didn’t respond, still holding her face as he spoke in a barely controlled tone.

“You think you’re invincible because you have magic. Because you’re our children and because you have Demonic and Angelic blood in your veins. But those stories…” The anger simmered down to reveal something a little more…personal. “Those stories leave out the blood, the loss, the pain, and the fear.”

Both girls blinked at him. He released Piranha’s chin but she continued to stare, sensing a deeper emotion that she had never known her father to express, let alone even have.

“You are not us,” he said with finality, “But you are our children. That paints a red mark on your backs. When you leave this city, the world wants a piece of you. You are safe here and have the luxury of growing up with two parents and training at a pace you enjoy. Why would you give that up?”

Silence hung even thicker in the air. Even I was shocked by his words. He was rarely that raw with me and this was the first time he was speaking to them like this. He was speaking to them like adults and he was speaking in such a caring way.

“We didn’t mean to cause trouble,” Wren’s voice cracked. “We just…”

“You never talk about him,” Piranha continued, her anger just as gone, “We only hear stories and we know they’re not always true or accurate. But you never talk about them.”

“Had it ever occurred to you that I wasn’t ready to?” I spoke this time. Their eyes widened. Both their parents were being vulnerable tonight. “Blackwater nearly took away my soulmate twice. And he did it without magic.”

“We fought hard to protect you from the world,” Alastor went on, “Not just from Blackwater. But from Humans and Demons and Angels alike. Don’t walk away from that just because you’re curious. There is nothing but danger awaiting you two.”

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time, a habit they had of doing.

I stood from the chair and came to kneel in front of them. Wren had already been silently crying but Piranha was dangerously close to letting a few slip. I held out my hands and waited for them to place their own on top.

“Every choice you make affects your future,” I stressed. I made sure to look them both in the eyes. “Whether that’s something small or something life threatening. Your choices have an impact on your life. Tonight, you chose wrong.”

They looked away again.

I squeezed their hands. “I am grateful that I was able to find you and get you back safe and sound. But next time we might not be able to get to you. Make your future choices wisely.”

I stood up and pulled them with me, hugging them close to my hip. They were already taller than most their age.

They didn’t respond right away. So I held them for a little bit longer until I felt the seals break. Tears soaked my clothes as they clung to me. The weight of everything had finally come crashing down.

Alastor watched and waited. They clung to their mother like a lifeline because she was, indeed, one. They were most likely coming down from the adrenaline rush of the experience and he felt they should be experiencing such a weight on their own. However, he knew I wanted to be a safety net for them. So he let it be.

Once their grips had loosened a bit, I kissed them on the head and told them to go to bed. They weren’t done crying but that was something to handle on their own. They watched me wipe my own tears before sniffling up the stairs to their rooms.

I padded over to the fireplace and stared at the flames. My previous thoughts were coming back to me. I had nearly lost them. They had nearly died. We had protected them for only ten years or so before they experienced their first life and death situation. I had been hoping it would be even longer.

Alastor gently rested his hand on my shoulder. His magic hummed just underneath my skin, wrapping around my mind like a snake. I didn’t respond to it. Everything was bubbling to the surface now that anger had stepped aside.

His hand moved along my back as he set his cane against the chair. I covered my eyes with one hand as a sob got stuck in my throat. I finally turned around and wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his jacket.

His strong arms held me close. His soul kept mine grounded and blocked out the other more dangerous thoughts. I tried to focus on the relief at having my girls back safely in their beds. But after everything that happened to us…it felt like too much of a close call.

“Did we fail them?” I whispered.

“No,” he said firmly, chest vibrating as he spoke, “But I fear they are a deadly combination of us.”

I couldn’t help the smile. “Guess they have your stupidity.”

He stiffened. “Excuse me?”

I clung to him and wrapped my tail around his legs as he tried to push me off. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Please hug me back.”

He relented with an irritated sigh. “They have your fire and bravery.”

“And your clever mind,” I added sweetly. I lifted my head and went up on my toes to steal a kiss. He followed me back onto my heels, his hair brushing my cheek as he leaned down.

“I suppose Rosie was right,” he said as he touched his forehead to mine, “We’re going to have our hands full the older they become.”

“But we’ll all be okay…right?”

Alastor looked into the fire for a moment. “Right.”

****

Vox growled as he pounded his phone again. Still no answer. Electricity sparked between his antenas as he and his lackey walked along the path to the front door of his station.

“Why isn’t this prick answering?” He shoved his phone in his pocket and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Uh sir…who are we talking about?” The little shark dared to ask.

“Chad. The one who’s running the Blackwater operation.”

“O-oh…what was he supposed to be do—”

Vox came to a halt and the shark ran right into his back. He was practically a fly compared to the TV Demon, bouncing off him without so much as a nudge or stumble. He peered around his boss and his jaw fell open.

Chad had been strapped just above the front door like a starfish. His face was covered in blood and his limbs looked like they had been snapped the wrong direction. On his forehead was green yellow stitching in an X shape and a wooden sign around his neck that read, “Tune in!”

Vox’s screen paled. That was why he hadn’t heard anything.

“What does this mean, sir?” the shark asked, voice wavering.

Vox swallowed on nothing. He scanned through the watches his men wore and through the horrible shakiness that being on a wrist brought, he was able to catch sight of certain red headed girls.

Everyone knew about his deal with the Dragon Demon. Everyone knew she and Alastor had children. Surely his men would’ve recognized them and known not to go anywhere near them. But…he never gave them explicit orders to leave them alone.

He blinked up at the dead man, already knowing what his screams were going to sound like on the radio. “This means we’re gonna be in trouble.”

————————

Author’s Note:

Well….well….well….I know this was heavily focused on the children but I really wanted to tap into their personalities and some of the parenting styles.

Who do you think picked which twin's name? :P

————————

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @martinys-world @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall @feral-fox-crypt

[mindmelter]

Assimilated StepDaddy

Ryan slowly woke up, feeling disoriented. He looked around, recognizing his stepson's room. But something was off—he couldn't move. It hit him then: he was tied up on the bed. Panic set in as he struggled against the restraints.

"W-what the hell? What is going on? Why I'm tied up?" Ryan shouted, trying his best to free himself from the restraints. All he remembered was coming home from a hard day of work at the construction site and grabbing a beer to relax on the couch, and then... he woke up here?

"It's ok, Ryan, no need to freak out," He heard his stepson's voice as he entered the room while holding a glass jar with a strange slug creature inside.

"Benson? You did this to me? You little shit! I'm gonna beat your spoiled ass once I'm out of here!"

"Oh, you're going to beat my ass for sure, just not in the way you think," Benson said with a smug tone, he tapped his fingers on the jar, making the sluggish creature move as if it was excited. "It was very easy to drug your beer. You passed out faster than I thought you would, and I confess it was very difficult to drag you to my room, you're so heavy. Unfortunately, I'm afraid we don't have much time left."

"You drugged my WHAT? I knew you were a fucking freak but not at this level!" Ryan tried to pull the restraints once again, but he finally realized there was no use. He sighed and looked at his stepson. "Look, let me go now and I won't tell your mom about what you did."

Benson chuckled, "I'm not sure if I believe you; I know you very well, Ryan; in the past two years, I've known your true self; you're a cheater, a homophobe, and a horrible stepdad. I can't trust someone like you, I'm not dumb. But don't worry; once I help my alien buddy take over your body, our relationship will change to something more... trustful." Benson then looked at the creature inside the jaar. "Isn't that right, lil guy?"

Ryan could swear he saw the little creature nodding its head. "What the hell is this thing you're holding? You're freaking me out Benson.... please let me go!"

Benson got on the bed between Ryan's muscular legs and slowly started to pull down Ryan's underwear, he protested, trying to make the process more difficult for Benson, but with both his arms and legs tied up, Benson easily pulled his underwear down to his ankles. "Oh my, I can see why mom likes you so much because it definitely is not because of your personality," Benson said, amazed by Ryan's girthy cock.

"That's too fucking far! I'm gonna kill you, you motherfucker!" Ryan shouted.

Benson just ignored him and opened the lid, freeing the slug from the jar; the strange black slug crawled toward Ryan's ass and started to force its way inside his hole. Ryan's eyes opened in terror as he felt something squirming inside his ass. "Take this thing away from me! Take this thing away!" Ryan pleaded, no longer trying to keep his tough, manly persona.

"It's ok, Daddy Ryan, you're going to be a much better stepdad from now on," Benson said, caressing his muscular thighs and watching the tip of the slug disappear inside Ryan's ass. For a few seconds, nothing happened until suddenly Ryan's eyes rolled back, and his body started to contort and convulse, his hips bulked up and down, and his back arched as his muscles tensed until suddenly his body went limp.

That was when Benson heard his mom's car arrive; his heart raced as he immediately started to untie Ryan as quickly as he could; he thought he could turn Ryan into his pet's host before his mom came home from work. He untied Ryan's ankles and walked out of his room; it was then realized he had forgotten to pull up Ryan's underwear, so he ran back to his room and pulled his underwear up. He made his way to the living room just as his mom opened the door and walked in.

"Hey, Mom," Benson said, sitting on the couch and trying his best not to sound too out of breath.

"Hey, sweetie, where is Ryan?" She asked.

"H-he's sleeping in my room, I think he got so drunk that he crashed in the wrong room."

"Poor thing, he works so hard, let him rest a little ok?"

Later that night, while his mom was in the shower, Benson went to check on his stepdad, and to his surprise, the bed was empty. He jumped when he felt Ryan's hand grab his neck from behind and his big bulge pressing against his ass. Ryan leaned his mouth close to Benson's ear and whispered. "Fuck... he really hated your ass, I'm trying my best to control his body not to twist your little neck."

Benson smirked; he knew it was no longer his stepdad speaking. "I thought you said you would take full control of his brain?" Benson whispered back, pressing his ass harder against Ryan.

"Shut up you little..." Ryan stopped talking mid-sentence, and then closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and then looking at Benson with more calm eyes. "I will. It just takes a while to fully assimilate his brain. There's still some parts of him left, I can still access some fragments of his memories as well as the hatred he had for you..."

"I think we could use all his hatred and use it for something more..." Benson then turned around to face Ryan and was about to caress his hairy pecs when Ryan suddenly pushed him down to his knees.

"You disgust me, you always did. If I didn't have a fucking slug inside my brain, assimilating it and turning me into a brainless puppet, I would have punched your dumb face right now."

Benson was so hard, his cock was leaking only at the sight of his hot stepdad standing over him, with his huge bulge just inches away from his face. He knew it was the alien in control, but he would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit scared.

"Ok, I'm starting to get a little bit wo..." Benson tried to stand up, but Ryan pushed him back on his knees again and then pointed at him.

"You better keep on your knees! That's where you fucking belong." Ryan whispered, he then pulled down his underwear, freeing his throbbing massive cock, hovering his shaft over Benson's mesmerized face. "I'm gonna facefuck you as a punishment, that's what spoiled brats like you deserve," Ryan then grabbed Benson by the back of his hair and smirked down at him. "You better take every inch of punishment," With that, he pushed Benson's face to take all his length. Benson loved the way Ryan grabbed both sides of his head and fucked his mouth like he was a fucktoy. Ryan came down his throat before his mom finished her shower.

A week later, Ryan had his brain fully assimilated by the alien slug, and there was nothing more left of him besides his hot body. The alien adopted a more loving and caring personality for Ryan that Benson loved, but sometimes Benson would ask the alien to act more like the old Ryan.

Their relationship had improved so much since Ryan got assimilated. Benson's mom would go to work in the morning before Ryan, so every morning before going to work, Ryan would go into Benson's room and give him a proper morning fuck, as well as his morning load. And every time Ryan came back earlier from work, he would take his shirt off and order Benson to lick his sweaty body clean.

"These armpits won't clean by themselves, boy. You better bury your face in these hairy armpits and clean them up with your slutty tongue!"

After giving his stepdad a proper tongue bath, Benson was sitting on Ryan's lap, with his ass fully stuffed by Ryan's hard cock while he squeezed and groped his stepdad's big hairy pecs.

"C'mon buddy, suck on your Daddy's tits, your mom will come from work at any minute," Ryan said while flexing his massive pecs.

Benson didn't waste any more time and started to suck on Ryan's huge tits. He had only two hours left before his mom would return from work, and he would always make the most of it.

[delusionalmultilingual]

Bakugou cries in front of you, and you only.

In the first few months of your relationship he keeps up a hard and cold barrier, of course getting his usual hot-headed self when someone even slightly irritates him, but you calm him down eventually.

It's not like he has no emotions other than anger, he just had difficulty showing them, even if he really really wants to, he can't.

So when he's hurt one of his friends greatly, he slams the door of his bedroom, laying on his back, on his bed. He even locked the door for good measures, but you had a key anyway. It's not like he couldn't keep you out anyway.

It's when his eyes start to water and he can feel a lump stuck in his throat, it's when he messages you. He normally doesn't use punctuation in his texts, but it's when he's upset he does.

'Come here.'

That's all he messages, even if you haven't messaged him back, he knows you've seen it, or you've heard it from someone that he's slammed his door.

In his past he used to cry a lot too, but only at home and when his mum or dad was with him. His mum would comfort him the best she could, after all she did care about him. Even if he was a bit of a jerk to her sometimes.

She would wrap him in her arms and squeeze him tightly, pecking his forehead softly, running a hand through his hair. Her words would be a lot softer than her usual yelling behaviour.

When he burnt his hands from using his quirk too much she would scold him before comforting him, tending to his wounds before sending him off so she can get back to whatever she was doing before.

"Katsuki?" Your voice sounds out into his pitch black room, the hallway light shining underneath the small crack of the door. Knocking quietly, and trying the knob, it didn't move at all.

The doorknob clicks and you can only just see inside of his room, pushing the door open gently, Katsuki was already sitting back down on his bed, looking away from you. The door clicks closed when you push it back. Leaving the room in darkness again.

All you can hear is the small sniffling coming from him, your steps quickly shift to the foot of his bed. Crawling towards him and giving him a hug, bringing his head to your chest and whispering to him.

"What's the matter, what's got you so upset babe?" Your soft words make him settle into your skin instantly, a small patch on your shirt becoming wet with his tears.

His voice was still harsh as he spoke, but his tears and upset state made his speech croaky when he spoke. "I fucked up babe... M' a shit friend."

"Don't talk down to yourself."

Your words were still soft as you lifted his face and squeezed his cheeks, looking into his tear-stained gaze. He hides his face in your neck and lays down on his back. Bringing you with him and you huff a strained groan, rubbing his hair and breathing in his scent.

His body shudders against yours and your heart aches for him, he squeezes you tighter before letting you lay down next to him, wiping his tears and looking up at his ceiling. Still avoiding eye contact with you.

Sitting up and tying your hair back into a low bun. Your legs cross and you stare at him in silence for a good minute or two.

"I said something about Shitty Hair's past. When he told me. I‐" His voice cuts off as he breathes down the lump in his throat. "I told him it was stupid to think like that."

You stay silent, not wanting to say anything that might anger or upset him more, all you did was nod to his words.

His eyes well up again, before rubbing his eyes with his hands and sobbing again, his hands and arms covering his face so you couldn't see him like that. He hated it when you saw him cry anyway, knowing you didn't mind but the embarrassment in the near future got to him.

Sliding next to his head, you run a hand through his hair and stay quiet. He was quiet, which was unusual of him. But this was a different circumstance, on that you have seen before but never really shown.

You knew your words would comfort him but wouldn't help with the situation, so you sit there and let him cry it out.

Even if he would end up sorting it out he probably wouldn't apologise, or at least give a shit apology. He would go back to you and fall asleep in your arms, asking if he fucked up anymore, to which you would reply that time would tell.

God he hated when you did that.

This was completely based off an image I saw on pinterest, its not the best work I've done but I do have more planned in the future (・ε・｀ )

Now officially edited and proofread

Should I make this a story?

[dan-the-womans-blog]

Hey! I’d love a one-shot where Hotch is really protective over the reader, who’s been getting some unwanted attention from someone at work. Maybe she’s a bit younger and new to the team, and she’s always been close with Hotch, but lately, he’s noticed that someone’s been making her uncomfortable. I’d love to see how Hotch handles it, especially since he’s been realizing he has feelings for her. Lots of protective Hotch vibes, maybe a little angst, but definitely some fluff and maybe a confession at the end. Thanks so much!

Of course lovely!!

Title: “Shield of Silence”

Pt2

You weren’t sure when it started, but the pit in your stomach had been growing for weeks now. At first, it had just been lingering looks—nothing overtly inappropriate but just enough to make your skin crawl. You’d brush it off, thinking you were imagining things, but the feeling only intensified as time passed. It was like being watched constantly, a gaze that clung to you when you least expected it.

It was your third month with the BAU, and although you were still adjusting, you felt like you’d finally found your place among the team. Spencer had been a wealth of knowledge, always eager to share some obscure fact or statistics. JJ had quickly become like an older sister, guiding you through the maze of FBI procedures and office politics. And then there was Aaron Hotchner—your unit chief, your mentor, and more recently, the person you found yourself gravitating towards the most.

Hotch had been nothing but professional with you, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of you. You admired his leadership, the way he commanded respect without demanding it, and his quiet but unwavering sense of justice. More than once, you’d caught yourself staring at him, wondering what it would be like to cross that line between professional and personal. But you always pushed those thoughts aside—he was your boss, after all.

Lately, however, you found yourself needing his presence more than usual. There was someone on the team who was making you uncomfortable, someone who lingered a little too close, who spoke a little too softly when he was near you. It was subtle—nothing you could report without feeling like you were making a mountain out of a molehill. But you knew it wasn’t just in your head.

The elevator ride that morning had been the final straw. You were alone, checking your phone, when you felt the presence beside you. Your stomach twisted as he moved closer, close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath on your neck. You stepped away, mumbling an excuse about needing to review a case file, and practically fled to your desk.

It wasn’t until you were safely seated that you noticed Hotch watching you, his brows furrowed with concern. He’d always been perceptive, but this time, his gaze felt like it was peeling back the layers you’d tried so hard to keep hidden.

“Y/N,” his voice was low as he approached you, leaning on the edge of your desk. “Is everything alright?”

You forced a smile, trying to mask the anxiety churning in your gut. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Hotch didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If anything’s bothering you, you can always come to me. You know that, right?”

You nodded, grateful for his concern but unwilling to drag him into something that might just be a product of your overactive imagination. “I know, Hotch. Thank you.”

But Hotch wasn’t the kind of man to let things go easily, especially when it came to his team. Later that day, as the team gathered in the conference room for a briefing, you noticed that Hotch had positioned himself closer to you than usual. It was subtle—just a shift in his usual place—but it felt like a protective barrier, a silent assurance that he was there if you needed him.

The meeting went smoothly, but as it wrapped up, the same coworker who’d been making you uncomfortable sidled up beside you, his hand brushing against your arm in a way that made your skin crawl. Before you could step away, Hotch was there, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

“Y/N, I need you to stay back for a moment. We need to go over the details of the Montgomery case.”

The man beside you stiffened, his eyes flickering between you and Hotch, but he said nothing as he backed away. You watched him leave, your heart pounding in your chest.

When the room was finally empty, Hotch turned to you, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “This has been going on for a while, hasn’t it?”

You swallowed, nodding reluctantly. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I thought maybe I was overreacting.”

Hotch shook his head, his jaw clenched. “You’re not overreacting. If someone’s making you uncomfortable, it’s my job to protect you. I don’t take that lightly.”

There was something in his tone that made your heart ache, a protective edge that spoke of more than just professional duty. “Hotch, I—”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently brush your arm where the other man had touched you. The gesture was tender, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“I can’t stand the thought of someone hurting you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not when I care about you as much as I do.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your mind racing to process what he’d just said. “You… care about me?”

Hotch’s eyes softened, the usual hardness melting away to reveal something far more vulnerable. “I care about you more than I should, given our positions. But I can’t help it. I need you to be safe, Y/N.”

The confession hung in the air between you, heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a truth you hadn’t been ready to face. But as you looked into Hotch’s eyes, saw the sincerity there, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crumble.

Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your hand resting on his chest. “I feel the same way,” you admitted softly. “I’ve tried to ignore it, but… I can’t anymore.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air thick with the tension of words left unsaid. But then, Hotch’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin with a tenderness that made your heart swell.

“Let me take care of this,” he said, his voice firm but gentle. “You don’t have to deal with this alone.”

You nodded, leaning into his touch. “Thank you, Hotch.”

He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that lit up his usually stoic features. “You can call me Aaron, you know.”

Your own smile mirrored his as you felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the lingering tension. “Okay… Aaron.”

The moment was perfect, the beginning of something new and fragile, but full of promise. As he pulled you into a comforting embrace, you knew that whatever happened next, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt safe.

[fictionalmenxyn]

🝊𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐫🝊

Pairing: cop!rafe x reader

Warnings: language and suggestive

🝊🝊🝊

You were on your way home, yes, you may have been going a few numbers over the limit. It was a 55 and you were going 60, not too bad. But you saw the famous red and blue lights flash along with the ‘woop woop’ of the sirens.

You mentally smacked yourself, also rolling your eyes at the slight fact the cop was being over dramatic. You indicated and pulled over.

You roll down your window, reaching over into the glove box grabbing your license and registration. You put them in your lap as you waited for the officer to walk over.

You see the figure, through the side mirror walking over. You double check over the things in your lap. The officer spoke “hey sweetheart”

You head whipped to the side to look out the window. Seeing Rafe “Rafe?! The fuck are you doing pulling me over??” He grinned. His thumbs tucked into his tactical vest “someone was goin’ over the limit, baby.” You roll your eyes “you do the exact same and you’re a cop” he chuckled “I know, I just saw your plate and wanted to see you, while I’m on shift.” You nodded “touché… so officer? Any big things happen today??”

He leans down so he can talk to you better “hmm not much, few speeding, one dui… you know, the usual…” you nod. “And do officers take a kiss as an apology for going over five above the limit?” He smirked “hmm for now, yeah, officer Cameron would take that as a temporary apology…” you rolled your eyes. You lean out of the window and give him a peck. “Not good enough, sweet girl.” “What?!” “You heard…” “babe…” Rafe grinned “not babe, its officer, right now”

You rolled your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. “Alright, officer…” you give him and another kiss. This time a proper and longer one. He pulled away “thank you” he stood straight again. He glanced to the road then to you. His thumbs still tucked into the armpit of the tactical vest. “You’re lucky you’re cute, I’m lettin’ ya off this time, no ticket for you pretty girl…” you look up at him. “Bullshit, you just don’t wanna do the paperwork.” You grin as he chuckles and shake his head “I like your logic, babe…” you smile “thank you…”

“That doesn’t mean you’re getting away with it when I get home…” “gonna need to teach you a lesson on how you shouldn’t sass the officer…I saw the eye rolls, can’t hide it from me, sweetheart” you blush slightly. “You can’t hide that blushin’ either…”

A voice over the radio speaks, Rafe looks back to you. Quickly leaning down and pressing two quick kisses to your soft lips. “Gotta go, see you later, I love you” you smiled “I love you too, go get those bad guys.” You smirk as he playfully rolled his eyes.

As he walks away, he calls out “don’t forget I’m not done with you, baby!” You chuckle as you start your car up again.

You watch as he drives off, sirens and lights beaming. He speeds off, going to god knows what incident. You smile, you loved seeing him all geared up and in uniform. It did things to you, especially when he wore it while getting you ready for some fun. Or when he lets you wear his training clothes. Like his ‘OBX PD’ training tee. Or the sweatpants, he liked you lost in the shorts though.

You couldn’t wait for him to get home to you. If it wasn’t illegal to actually speed. You’d do it more just for him to pull you over. The half-assed stern look he’d give you for going over just a little bit. Or when the one time you did a quick break at an empty junction. You only did a quick stop at the ‘stop’ sign because no one was there. So you didn’t think you needed to stop and wait a few seconds. He taught you a good lesson on that one…

You were already in bed, wearing only his PD tee when he got home. Dropping his bags to the floor and taking off his heavy tactical vest. Kicking his boots off as he crawled into bed and on top of you.

He kissed you like he hasn’t seen you in weeks. Your tongues clashing. He moves down your jaw and marks up your neck. Then he moves up your neck and to your ear. He whispers “I still haven’t taught you a lesson about speeding have I?” You gasp as his knee goes between your legs. He smirked “words” “no, officer…” he smirked “you look so good in my tee baby..” he smashes his lips against yours.

And the night was only just beginning…

🝊🝊🝊

[shotmrmiller]

Tormented by a Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: small mention of smut and simon being kinda mean

TY TO MY BETA FOR MAKING THIS 10X BETTER @c-h-a-r-n-i-k

Tired of living with your family, you decide to move out. There's just one problem— Rent is too costly to afford on your own. You complain about it to your friend, and they tell you that they know someone who's also looking for a roommate and preferably another female. Fantastic!

Your friend gives you her number and ya'll are moving in together by the end of the month. It was great. No nagging parents, no micromanagement, nothing. You loved it. Until your roommate brings her man over. And he's a fucking bully.

--

You're crawling home from a hard day at work, and you want nothing more than some wine on a quiet night. Unlocking the door, you step into the flat. The lights aren't turned on so you assume your roommate isn't home.

Dumping your bag in your room, you make a beeline towards the kitchen. As you're bent over in the fridge, your roommate's door opens.

"Hey,” you call out, "I'm pourin' myself a glass of wine if you're interested!"

Then an assertive, baritone voice speaks from behind you.

"You must be the roommate."

You give an ear-piercing scream as you jump, whipping around to face him with a hand over your racing heart.

"Fuckin' hell! No, it's okay, I don't need my hearin' er nothin'." he scolds.

"What the fuck! I almost flat-lined with my head in the fridge because of you!"

Then you get a good look at him. This monster of a man is a minimum 6'3, with a black balaclava covering his face, a black long-sleeve shirt, and grey sweats. You tried real hard to not ogle the tattoo that stains his exposed left arm. And the grey sweats, we all know why. Cursed be your fetish for thick forearms and big hands.

He leans his head back, looking down his nose at you.

"I think it'd be an improvement," he says, "You face down, I mean," and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline as he chuckles.

You don't know who he thinks he is, talking to you—a complete stranger— like that but you aren't about to take his shit.

You sneer. "Fuck you. Yeah, I bet that's the view you get the most. Women willingly turn away to not get a look at your mug. Did my roommate ask you to put that mask on so she could face you during sex?"

He steps forward, his height allowing him to tower over you, and growls out, "You callin' me ugly?"

Smirking, you roll your eyes. Of course.

"I don't see any other reason for you to hide your face. Not that it matters to me— I'm not the one that has to tolerate it."

His eyes squint at you as he retorts, "I'm quite the opposite."

Opening your mouth, you're about to tell him that he can say whatever helps him sleep at night when your roommate calls out to the big brute in front of you.

"Ghost? What's taking so long?" she asks.

You tried and failed miserably to hide your mocking giggle at hearing his name, and he leers at you in response. "Go on, Ghost. You're being called back into the realm of the dead."

As he steps away, he says with contempt, "Dumb little bird doesn't know what she's talking about," before walking over to your roommate, looping his arm around her shoulders and going into her room.

He probably doesn't even know your name and he laid into you like he's hated you his whole life. After pouring yourself a glass of wine, you shake your head and walk towards your bedroom. Freak.

--

One day, after having your friend with benefits over in the morning for some nice stress relief, you walk him out. And fucking Ghost is sitting on the couch with his arms crossed. You quickly shuffle your friend out the door, face glowing with embarrassment.

Why was he here? Jesus Christ, now he's going to watch you do the walk of shame around the flat. Hopefully, he won't say anything. As you walk away from the door to the kitchen to get a bottle of water, Ghost speaks up.

"Well, that was pathetic."

You hang your head and close your eyes in resignation. Should've known someone as toxic as he wouldn't mind his own goddamn business.

"What now, Ghost?"

He sounds oddly smug as he says, "I've been here for a couple of hours, and I didn't hear anything coming out of your room. Sounds like he doesn't know what to do with a cunt."

Behind gritted teeth, you grind out, "Don't worry about my pussy, bud. You've got yours coming in," and you hold the n as you look at your watch, "30 minutes. Now piss off."

As you stomp away towards your room, the bottle of water all but forgotten, you hear him let out a deep chuckle. He's an asshole. A physically attractive one, sans the face, but still an asshole. You're going to have to get your friend to come over more often if Ghost is going to continue being around with those jacked arms and deliciously tight grey sweats.

Sucking your teeth, you make a mental note to ask your roommate why she gave him a key to your shared flat without asking.

--

A week later, your roommate has Ghost over and you figure it'd be a good time to get some action yourself. You send him a text and in less than 20 minutes, you're letting him in. Hugging him, you tell him to go to the bedroom. But he's not paying attention to you— he's looking directly behind you.

Turning around to look, it's Ghost. Goddamn it. And this time he's shirtless with his arms crossed and a skull mask on. God fucking damn it. Pulling the arm of your friend, he looks down at you and you tell him to go on, that you'll be there soon.

He nods, walking away with one last look at the phantom leaning against your roommate's door. Exhaling a ragged sigh, you turn back to Ghost.

"Can I help you?"

He shakes his head mutely before responding, "No, lovie, but I can help you." You shake your head at his nonsense.

"No. I'm not doing this with you."

You turn to walk away when he speaks again.

"Yer really gonna let him touch you again? He clearly doesn't know what he's doing— Bedroom's silent as a crypt. Even with those glasses he's got on, he can't find what he should be lookin' for."

Insulted for your friend, you face Ghost with a disbelieving look on your face.

"You're not seriously standing here trying to cockblock me. You—" his audacity has you stammering, "You have no idea what I'm like. Maybe I'm just naturally quiet in bed."

Ghost stares at you for a solid minute before he shrugs and goes back to your roommate.

Unbelievable asshole. Why does he have to look so good shirtless, the berk.

--

You start noticing that Ghost is there a couple of hours before your roommate gets there and you'd think it's weird if you weren't too busy being distracted by the fact that he's always taunting you one way or the other. And then one day, you question him on it.

"You do know your girlfriend won't be home until the evening? It's barely 3."

Ghost turns his head from the TV to look at you and grunts.

"Not my girlfriend." That's news to you.

"Then why you spendin' so much time over here? You're gonna have me thinkin' you like spending time in my delightful presence." you banter with a teasing smile.

Ghost continues to stare at you and the heated look in his eyes confuses you but then he turns back to the TV.

"I can't stand ya, ya daft bint."

You pretend you don't hear the muted tenderness in his voice.

--

And on a sunny day, it all comes crashing down. The boys are over again, but this time Ghost is boring holes into the back of your head as you both go into your respective rooms. You're straddling your boy's hips shirtless when you hear your roommate's furious yelling from the other side of the flat and then stomping towards the front door before it slams closed.

After your bedroom door is busted open, the bolt being broken out of the faceplate from the brutal strength behind the force— and you're jumping off the bed and crossing your arms over your exposed chest.

It's Ghost and he's staring directly at your friend on the bed.

"No." He stomps over to grab your friend by his shirt and drags him off the bed and towards the front door before tossing him against it with a nasty-sounding slam.

"Get the fuck out."

Your friend is spluttering when Ghost cuts him off.

"If I see you here again, I'm turnin’ those silly little glasses," and he taps a lens with his finger, "into contacts. Now get the fuck out. I won't repeat myself." And with that, he trips over his own feet running out the door.

You're standing in the living room. eyes are wide in disbelief. What just happened? There's a moment of silence before Ghost breaks it.

"Your roommate won't be coming back today." He walks over to you picks you up to sit you on the kitchen countertop and lifts his mask over his mouth.

"Now. You're going to come on my tongue before I fuck you and personally test out this 'I'm quiet' theory, pet." You look down at him and sigh.

"I think I'm gonna need a new roommate," you lament.

Pulling the gusset of your knickers to the side, he says, "Don't worry your pretty little head over that. I'll be moving in with you. Also, no. You don't have a choice."

He digs his fingers into your thigh and purrs against your skin, “If you find it in you to scream, my real name’s Simon.” 

And with the way his usually sharp tongue delicately rubs against your clit, you can't find it in you to argue.

A/N: dreamt of this and it had me in a chokehold.

[charhounds]

yknow i honestly think im starting to like spiders more than smaller bugs like ants. they still scare me but they seem calmer somehow

[thesoftestpunk]

I want you, Baby I need you

Summary: your friend tells you someone may like you and so stupidly, you begin to think about them a little differently

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word count: 5.2k

A/N: I feel like my brain fog made the pacing weird :/

Warnings: bullying, girls being mean :(, lots of fluff and pining!!

Main Masterlist

Pt.2

“Guess what?” One of your teammates, Christina, asks the second you place your tray down on the table, looking too smug for your liking. Before you can even ask, she’s talking over you. “The freak has a crush on you.”

“Who?” You genuinely forget who she’s referring to for a second, but her scoff seems to jog your memory. “Oh. Eddie Munson?” 

“Who else?” She sneers, and everyone else around you laughs like it’s some huge joke, but you’re certain she isn’t joking. “God, how embarrassing.”

Your cheeks burn as they laugh even harder. You let out a weak chuckle, feeling the world around you shrink and become suffocating. 

“Yeah,” you let out, trying to play along. “Could you imagine? Me and him?” 

You blatantly refuse to call him a freak. Since moving into town two years ago, you quickly learned city life and small town life were completely different worlds. Despite falling in with the semi-popular crowd by joining the swimming team, you understood the struggle Eddie and his friends had to go through. You weren’t freak status back home, but you weren’t popular either. Not always well known, but always well liked, and your new friends teasing him about the rumor makes you worry about it spreading. For your sake and not his. You don’t want to deal with any sort of teasing from anyone.

Guilt crawls up your throat as you steal a glance toward his table, catching his eye as he curiously looks on at the boisterous scene going on around you. You give a quick smile, which probably comes off as more of a wince, and turn back around. In all honesty, he hasn’t been on your radar. You don’t know much about him other than the fact that he’s loud, labeled The Freak of Hawkins High, and has made a scene or two in class. 

“Oh god,” Christina sighs out, wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes. “Pathetic.” 

Humming half heartedly, you focus on shoving your shitty school food around your tray instead of eating it, a sudden pit sitting heavy in your stomach. Because Eddie having a crush on you actually felt flattering. 

You choose to sit next to him in English, even give a small smile when you sit. There’s still time before the bell rings, and you find yourself glancing over at him. You open and close your mouth, uncertain of what to say until the words suddenly come tumbling out.

“How many tattoos do you have?”

For a second he doesn’t realize you’re talking to him until the silence makes him look up and realize you’re staring straight at him, expectantly. He points to himself as if asking ‘me?’ eyebrows raised and his already wide doe eyes getting even wider. And you nod while fighting off a smile. 

“Why d’you wanna know?” He eyes you suspiciously, certain that whatever information you’re about to get out of him is going to get back to your friends and fuel the constant fire over his head. 

“I dunno,” you shrug a shoulder, but you’re honest. What the fuck were you supposed to say to Eddie Munson anyway? He was intimidating as hell because he put himself in the spotlight like it was nothing. It isn’t like you hate attention, but too much makes you nauseous. “Thinking about getting one, I guess?”

“You guess?” His head tilts, causing his hair to cascade over his shoulder. Of course he would be defensive. Christina was just making fun of him less than an hour ago. 

“It’s- forget it,” you shake your head. You can’t believe you would trust your nasty, mean friends when they said he had a crush on you. 

Turning back to the front of the classroom, you wait painfully for the bell to ring, and once it does, the room fills quickly with slightly out of breath students. A couple of your teammates wave at you until you finally break and they gesture wildly, asking ‘what the fuck are you doing sitting next to him?’ All you can do is give an apologetic shrug and decide you’ll lie to them later and say it was the only seat you could find. They just roll their eyes and pull out their textbooks. 

“Five.” Eddie’s voice surprises you. 

Turning your head, you hope no one sees when you ask. “Did they hurt?”

“No, ‘course not.” He bites back a smile, trying to act all tough. 

“Liar.” Your nose scrunches and it makes him laugh at how cute it is. 

You don’t mean to, truly, but now you look out for Eddie in the halls, stare at him during class, and hope for one more conversation. One that’s less embarrassing, but you do hope. Despite your friend's relentless teasing after English class the other day, you give a small wave back anytime he gives you one. You never initiate first, too shy and afraid it’ll lead to more teasing. This way you can just say you’re being polite when you wave back and they see, but more often than not, they’re too caught up in their own little worlds. Even though you’re scared they’ll tease, you keep an eye out for him and you learn more than you ever knew before. He’s polite. He lets the cheerleaders walk ahead if they bump into each other at a corner in the hall. One arm is tucked behind his back as he sweeps the other out and he bows a little. They give him weird looks respectively, but he just smiles and moves on. He might joke around with his friends, but if you listen closely, you can hear the kindness and compliments hidden underneath the meaning of his words. The group is small, but he holds the same amount of care for each and every one of them. Including his ‘little sheepies’ which you don’t fully understand, but he used a lot of words you don’t understand, and you thought you were smart. After a little investigating, you learn some of them are made up, but you seem to like the fact that he’s nerdy and into this series called Lord of the Rings. 

You’re starting to like Eddie.

“Oh my God,” Christina moves in your line of sight, in front of him. You’d positioned yourself at the cafeteria table so you didn’t have to turn around to subtly watch him anymore. “Are you staring at the freaks?”

“Stop calling them that,” you roll your eyes. “You know I hate that.”

She crosses her arms defensively. “Just, you know, being honest. What’s so interesting about them anyway?”

“Nothing.” You mutter, going back to nibbling on the shitty cardboard pizza they served today. 

She turns around and gets the biggest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen from her when her eyes connect with Eddie’s. 

“Holy shit. You’ve got a crush on The freak!”

“Christina!” You swat at her, but it’s too late. Everyone else at your table already heard and is staring at you incredulously. “I- I do not.”

“Puh-lease. You’ve been making googly eyes at him for weeks at this point!”

“It hasn’t been weeks,” you mutter under your breath.

“Ew!” Another one of the girls scrunches her nose and jabs a thumb in his direction. “Him?”

“Better be careful, Y/N,” another taunts. “Don’t wanna find you in the woods. I heard he, like, sacrificed a girl out there last year. No one’s heard from her since.”

“Oh my god, me too!” Christina pretends to look concerned. “You think that’s what happened to Nancy’s friend too? What was her name? Bev?”

“Didn’t he like…” the girl to your left leans in and stage whispers, but she could be heard from across the room if you listened hard enough. None of them understood the concept of speaking at a normal volume. “Bite a bat's head off?” 

“That was actually Ozzy Ozbourne!” Eddie leans so far back in the chair that the two front legs don’t touch the ground, one of his legs lifted so the bottom of his dirty Reebok’s supports his weight against the table. 

You’re mortified at the idea that Eddie has heard every single word, but he was at the other end of the long table today. 

“Ugh,” Christina rolls her eyes again before turning to face him. “As if we know that freak either!”

“Tina,” you hiss, not wanting to start a scene over this nonsense. 

“Whatever. You don’t have a crush.” She fully faces the table again and starts talking about the party at Jason’s after the game on Friday. 

You go to throw an apologetic look at Eddie, but find him missing from the table, and a couple of his friends send glares your way, making you shrink in shame. 

Eddie isn’t in English, or History, and you find out through the grapevine he skips the rest of the day entirely. It wasn’t uncommon for him to do, but you feel like it’s your fault. The days leading up to the party, he seems to avoid you, eyes darting away quickly and showing up late enough to class that it’s guaranteed there’s no free seats around you. Christina seems to take notice of your sour mood, but only asks once. You lie and say you’re fine, but you feel sick to your stomach. You never actively partook in the bullying, but you never stopped it either. 

The day of the game finally rolls around, filled with school spirit and a pep rally, but once again Eddie is nowhere to be found. Not that he’d ever attended a pep rally in his whole high school career, but you at least expected to spot him at lunch. He’s even absent from your shared classes. After school, you hang around in the parking lot, wasting time before you all have to go home and get ready for the game. You frown as you observe his friends, chatting away aimlessly and occasionally throwing candy around. They hang around what you think is Eddie’s van, but if he skipped all day, why would he be here now? 

“Hey,” Christina’s voice surprises you, quiet and genuine. “Just us girls… you have a crush on Munson?”

“I…” you trail off, surprised she isn’t faking her valley girl voice, and you feel like you can trust her once again since you met her two years ago. She wasn’t your first friend in Hawkins, but you had been close when you first joined the team. “I dunno. He’s actually kinda sweet. Maybe?”

“Seriously?” And then she guffaws, catching you off guard once more. “Ugh, grody! Guys, Y/N actually has a crush on Munson!”

“I- I didn’t say that!” You can’t believe Christina would do something like that. As you watch them all laugh and tease, you wonder when they all got so mean and why you started letting them get away with it. 

“You said maybe. That’s, like, totally a yes!”

“Like it’s such a bad thing to have a crush on me?” 

Everyone quiets as you slowly turn around to find Eddie standing there, hands shoved in the pockets of his leather jacket. 

“Eddie, I…” you aren’t even sure what to say as he glares down at you. 

“I wouldn’t be caught dead hanging around you, Munson.” Christina’s voice makes you squeeze your eyes shut in frustrated embarrassment. “Even your parents couldn’t stand to stay around. Must be hard having a cultist son. Fucking embarrassing.”

The lot gets so quiet, you can hear the grinding of his teeth as he sets his jaw. He doesn’t even dignify her with a response, turning and walking away before anyone can see the red staining his cheeks. 

“Tina… that was major harsh.” One of the girls breaks the silence. 

“Oh, eat my shorts, Janice. Are we getting ready at my house or not?” 

Everyone seems to hesitate but Christina was captain of the team. No one was going to say no. Well, no one but you. 

“I’ve, um, got a thing. I’ll meet you guys at the game.” You glance over toward Eddie, watching as he harshly shoves his shoulder back to avoid one of his friends' hands. 

You shouldn’t go to the game, but you do.

Janice called you from Christina’s house, sounding hopeful. You promised to be there, despite your whole body screaming at you to just stay home. Janice promises the whole thing will blow over by Monday, and something else will come along. But it won’t just blow over with Eddie. You know that. He had looked so hurt when you turned around to face him. In all the years of getting bullied, that was the first time he showed anyone what their words did to him. And it was your fault. 

You had promised Janice you’d be there, but when you stand outside the gymnasium, you can’t make yourself go in. Can’t make yourself face who you thought were your friends. So, you walk down a path between the large building and the school and take out a key. The pool was somewhat separated, but you could still hear the muffled band playing when you entered the echoey room. You keep a spare swimsuit in your locker for this exact situation. The sport helped clear your mind and you needed to get rid of the image of Eddie’s broken look.

You swim even after the cheering and the band stops. You swim until you feel like your limbs are going to fall off, and even though you don’t want to, you shower off the chlorine. As you step out into the somewhat cool autumn air, a double door bursts open, and the kids that come spilling out make you stop. 

His little sheepies. Which means… 

Fuck. 

Eddie is the last one out, smile so wide you can’t help but wonder if it hurts. They all talk over each other, but Eddie just seems to watch over in pride. You take a step back into the shadows, hoping your bright multicolored windbreaker doesn’t give you away. 

“Hey!” Is that… Steve Harrington? “You guys were supposed to be done an hour ago.”

“The campaign ends when it ends, Steve!” One of them retorts back. 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have all night Henderson. Let’s go!” 

All three freshmen rush to Steve’s BMW and scramble inside. He and Eddie share a nod before he gets in and peels out of the lot, and you can still hear all of them shouting in excitement. The other three seniors exchange goodbyes before parting ways, but Eddie sticks behind. Neither of you move until all the cars are gone except for his van and yours. Why the fuck hasn’t he moved? 

“Is it just you?” Eddie finally speaks, turning toward your piss poor excuse of a hiding spot. “Or is the rest of the team waiting somewhere?”

“I’m- I’m alone.” It scares you once you realize you’re the only two on the property. Probably the only two within a few miles at this point. “Look, I’m really sorry about them. Christina especially. I don’t know when she got so…”

“Bitchy?”

That makes you breathe out a laugh, not realizing you were holding your breath. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he shifts his weight to his other leg, observing you and the whole situation. 

“Do you want to sit by the pool and talk?” It’s starting to feel pretty creepy outside, and the cold night wasn’t helping your wet hair.

“I thought it was locked after hours.” 

You hold up the bronze key, but offer up an explanation anyway. “My uncle is actually the coach. He got me into swimming competitively in the first place. Technically I’m not allowed to bring friends in but…”

“Good thing I’m not really a friend.” He walks past you and you’re a bit frozen in place, not believing he accepted. 

You’re nervous as you unlock the door once more and wave him inside like he would but you give an awkward curtsy. As he’s turning in a small circle to take in how the water reflects off the walls and ceiling, you slip off your shoes and roll up your jeans as far as you can go. He begins to do the same when he sees you sticking your feet in the water. 

“Jesus Chri-! That’s cold!” His voice bounces off the walls, and your laughter follows. 

“Well, yeah, most pools are.” You tuck your hands underneath your thighs and move your right leg around in small circles, disrupting the water. “Didn’t see you at the game.” 

“That kind of stuff is bullshit. Forced conformity.” Before he goes on a rant, he looks at the sly smile on your face, as if you were going to enjoy this topic of conversation. But he knew you’d react either of two ways if he kept on. Confused, or freaked out. So he leans back on his palms and tries to act casual. “And if I’m guessing right, you weren’t there either.”

“Didn’t feel like it.” You give a halfhearted shrug. “Christina really… what she said about your parents— I just don’t see her the same anymore. I don’t know how it happened, but she just got so mean, and everyone’s too scared to say anything because she's the captain. Sorry, I’m- ranting.”

“Christina wasn’t far off.” 

The admission bounces around as you look at him.

“Eddie…”

“It was forever ago.” He kicks the water, causing a small splash. “Aren’t you co-captain anyway?”

“Yeah? So?” You didn’t think he would know that, and it makes you feel all mushy inside that he knows something so simple about you. 

“So don’t you have us much say as her?”

“With her tyrannical rule? No way.” 

“No shame in running, but sometimes you gotta be the hero.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “I’m sure getting to Mordor would be easier than standing up to Christina.” 

“You’ve read…?”

“No.” That’s a half lie. “Well, sorta. I haven’t gotten very far. I don’t know if it’s my thing, but you talk about it so much, I wanted to check out all the hype.”

Eddie looks taken aback, mouth hung open. 

“Is that what dungeons and dragons is?” You ask curiously, which seems to take him back even more. “I mean everybody says it’s bad, but it’s just nerd shit, right? Sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“It is nerd shit.” He straightens his back at the new topic of conversation. “All it is, is tabletop fantasy role play. Doesn’t have to be like Lord of the Rings. You could have a whole western fantasy campaign. Maybe even in space.” He’s ranting, and god does he know it, but you lean in instead of awkwardly looking away like everyone else does.

“Campaign…?” 

“Well, it’s…” Eddie thinks for a moment before explaining in the most simple of terms how a campaign works. You nod along, enthralled by every detail, even when he derails and starts rambling about character class and stats. He rambles on about their current campaign to help explain better, and he uses silly voices and moves animatedly. You laugh, but not at him. He continues to tease, loving your laugh and that you aren’t making fun of him. His arms flail a bit and he gives a few teasing nudges, but in his excitement he forgets his strength. 

“Wait, Eddie-!” You fall in the water, grabbing on to him in an attempt to stop, but end up pulling him down with you. The both of you come up spluttering, but you end up laughing at the mop of hair on his head. 

“Shit,” he laughs nervously. “It’s deep.”

“Wait. Can you swim?”

“Well, I’m no athlete, but yeah. I can swim.” 

“Well…” you swim forward, a sly smile creeping its way onto your face. “Might as well, right? We’re already in here. You’ll want your jacket off, though. It’s gonna be too much dead weight.”

“Right, I’ll uh…”

“Here, I’ll keep us afloat while you get it off.” 

Before he can understand what’s happening, you wrap your arms around his waist, your face entirely too close to his. With what little space you have, you can see freckles splashing across his face, and you chew on the inside of your cheek to keep your composure. He avoids eye contact as he struggles out of the leather, the tip of his tongue making a surprise appearance, before tossing the jacket aside and it lands with a loud wet slap. 

“Cool. Now good luck catching me!” You splash him a little harsher than you had intended, but you make a dash to escape.

“You’re gonna regret that!” 

You’re a lot better at swimming than he is, almost too fast to be caught, but you slow down after awhile on purpose. As his hand wraps around your ankle, making you squeal, you tell yourself you did it to not wear him out and frustrate him. That you didn’t want to anger him, as he’s pulling you into him and dunking both of you under water. You struggle against his arms, but he’s strong. You can feel the unexpected muscle against your hands, but he lets you go too soon and you both come up gasping for air. 

“Told ya.” water sprays a bit from his mouth as his chest heaves. 

“You cheated.” 

“I never cheat, sweetheart.” He wades toward you slowly, dropping down just until his mouth sinks into the water. 

“Eddie Munson, don’t you dare,” you warn but your tone is too light. “You dunk me again, I’ll- I’ll make sure you smell like chlorine for a week.” 

He doesn’t listen, and you swim backward until your back crashes into the tiled wall. The cold sends a shiver down your spine. Definitely not the way Eddie comes back up, water dripping from his chin and his arms blocking you in on either side of you. His eyes drop to your lips and you find yourself breathing heavily for a completely different reason, your chest brushing against his with every inhale. Neither of you make a move, just admiring every detail you can while breathing each other's air. Just when you think he might, a loud bang comes from one of the locker rooms, making you both jump and look around frantically. You find yourself gripping one of his forearms tightly in shock. 

“We should- we should probably get out.” No one else had access to the pool except your uncle, but you doubted he would come by at midnight. He trusted you to not fool around, and you really hadn’t let him down until now. “I swear the locker rooms are haunted.” 

Still, you don’t move until he does, and swim to the nearest ladder to get out. The only sound is the water from your clothes dripping on the floor, and suddenly you feel exhausted. Your clothes feel heavy as they cling to your skin. Without discussing it, you both start peeling your clothes off, slightly turned away to give each other privacy. As you’re wringing out your shirt, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder at Eddie, and catch the way his shoulder blades move while he does the same. His eyes catch yours and you smile sheepishly before turning back around. You’re both down to your underwear, unsure of how to proceed. 

“We should shower. Alone I mean. You can go to the boys’. There’s towels.” You speed walk away, too self conscious to hang around too long. 

“Wait!” He follows you quickly, careful not to slip. “You’re just gonna drop the fact that the locker rooms are haunted and then leave me alone to fend for myself?”

Your footsteps slow, and you let out a small huff because you know you know you’ll feel guilty until the end of time if you do that to him. 

“There’s going to be rules, Munson.”

“Oh, of course.” He agrees quietly.

“We go in at the same time and undress fully in our own shower. You’re not to come out until I have, and even then, you’re not to look anywhere but your own shower. When I say it’s okay, you can leave, got it?”

“I think you forgot the part about the towels.”

“Do not make me regret this.” 

You’ve never been so self conscious showering until now. Even with a zero percent chance of Eddie seeing you naked, you worry, but you also think about the fact that he’s in the same exact state you’re in right now. That somehow makes the whole thing feel way too intimate, and you can’t believe the first time you got to hang out with your -possible- crush, you both end up naked. If that basic, no detailed rumor got out, you’d surely die of embarrassment. Turning around, you place your face underneath the stream of water, trying so hard to not think about the small glimpse of his torso that you got. The dark patch of hair sneaking underneath his boxers that clung to his thighs from the water. 

“So, are you from Hawkins?” His voice brings you out of your wandering thoughts. You quickly turn the knob from hot to cold in hopes that it keeps you calm.

“My parents are.” Looking down, you watch the water swirl around at your feet. “My grandmother got sick and my uncle couldn’t take care of her by himself. So, we packed up and moved back here, but I can tell my parents are happy to be back home. It’s less demanding than the city.”

“The uncle being coach thing makes a lot more sense now.”

“Not a lot of people know actually.” You turn the water off completely, and wrap your arms around your torso self consciously. “I’m getting out now.”

It isn’t the easiest topic of conversation, but when she had first gotten sick two years ago, your mother went to stay with her for the three months she had been told she would live. When it was clear she was going to hang on longer than expected, they decided it would just be better to move permanently and the old lady was still sticking around. Despite being so sick, you liked hanging out with her most afternoons. Even if she forgot who you were.

You carefully walk out of the shower, towel wrapped around yourself tightly, and as you pass by the stall that Eddie is in, you catch a glimpse in the crack between the curtain and wall. All you manage to catch is the back of his head, arms extended upward to wash out whatever shampoo you’d let him borrow. He begins to turn and you look away with your cheeks burning. You attempt to dry your hair underneath one of the hand dryers, and it isn't long when Eddie comes out, damp boxers back on and using the towel you gave him to rub his hair dry. He pauses seeing you kneeled down, holding the towel to your chest so that nothing gets exposed and he realizes he forgot to wait for your okay, but you don’t seem to mind as you give a soft smile. 

“I’ll grab our clothes.” He says when the dryer finally turns off and leaves you to get somewhat decent. 

He’s suddenly so quiet as he hands over your clothes, no witty comment or joke as the two of you get dressed. All there is between you are stolen glances and nervous smiles. Once fully clothed again, you walk beside him, feeling a little stiff. Not from how your cold clothes stick to you, but from nerves. The soft lights from the pool make his face glow, and your stomach drops in the best way possible. He gets the door for you, and waits with his hands stuffed in his jacket as you lock up. The grass crunches underneath your footsteps, dry from the temperature and lack of rain. Neither of you speak, until you hit the parking lot, cars too far from each other to continue walking together.

“Were they right?” You ask before he gets a chance to escape, arms anxiously crossed over your chest. “My friends. ‘Cause if they were… I think I have one too.”

“Have what?”

Shit. You were too vague.

“A crush, dummy.” 

Realization dawns on his face as he absorbs your confession. He can’t believe it, and the worst smallest part of him thinks you’ve done this whole thing as a joke, and someone is going to pop out with a camera to capture how big of an idiot he’s been. All that happens is you chew on your bottom lip, anxiously waiting for an answer, and he's leaving your heart out in the open for too long. 

“Yes, yeah, they were right.” He watches how you smile and takes a mental image to last forever. “I’m not really quiet about anything.” 

“I just never expected…” you shake your head and look at your feet. “You. You’ve just so suddenly become this big thing in my life.” 

Eddie barely has to take a step to be close enough to take your face in his hands and lift your head up to pull you into a searing kiss. It’s so unexpected that you laugh in surprise against his lips, but he smiles at the sound. When you’ve settled down, you move your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, eager to feel his heartbeat slow to match the rhythm of your own. He kisses you so sweetly, you really do think he’s a gentleman. A quick slip of his tongue doesn’t change your mind either.

“If you don’t stop me,” he gets out between kisses. “We’ll be here all night sweetheart.”

“I like that idea,” you tease as his lips move along your jawline, and down your neck. Your eyelids flutter closed, and you focus on every feeling.

Eddie pulls back, showing some self restraint and you almost whine at the loss of contact.

“You’re gonna get a cold if you stay out here.”

“So will you!”

“I’m going to walk you to your car, and you’re going to go home and get all snuggled in bed, okay?” He traces your bottom lip with his thumb, the ghost of a smile ever present.

“Fine.”

Eddie takes your hand, intertwining your fingers together, and walks the short distance to your car. You make no move to enter, back pressed against the driver side door, and grab him by his jacket. He braces himself with one arm, looking down at you, his other hand stroking your cheek with the back of his pointer finger. The featherlight touch makes you shiver, and you find yourself getting lost in his almost pitch black eyes. Those eyes that are so beautiful and full of lashes, that a cow would be jealous. You pull him in for another kiss, arms wrapping underneath his jacket and around his small waist. He groans into your mouth, not wanting to leave if you were going to kiss him slowly like that.

“I’m personally thanking Christina on Monday.” He gives your knuckles a quick kiss before taking a few steps backwards, not wanting to look away, and turning for his own vehicle.

Christina’s head almost explodes when he does exactly that and plants a kiss on your lips in the cafeteria, but you just act innocent when you take his outstretched hand and move to sit with him at his table. It felt good, and it felt even better when you give her the finger when she wouldn’t stop staring.

[ferrstappen]

Everybody wants a taste l LN4

a/n: i am in an urgent need of writing ideas I've had for MONTHS so brace yourselves I guess?? also the title ofc is from pop anthem jealous by nick Jonas.

i am also very very very stressed waiting for the standing start.

pairing: Lando Norris x actress!reader

this is angst. and some tom holland after this poll results <3

summary: Lando had never been the jealous kind, but after seeing you with many co-stars, he reaches his limit. and his girlfriend doesn't like it.

No one would ever know Lando Norris' was reaching his limit as he stood on the sidelines of another press junket for his girlfriend's new movie: a coming of age movie that already was creating awards season buzz, and God was he proud of her, having witnessed the ten minute standing ovation she received during Cannes.

But of course the limelight wasn't only on her. No, it was on him.

Lando remembers when he was asked who he'd want to portray him if they ever did a biopic and he didn't hesitate: Tom Holland. There could be some similarities between the two, both British, chestnut curls, but now Lando's skin crawled just from hearing the name.

He had dealt with different co-stars during the almost two years of relationship; he'd seen her kiss them, fight with them, fall in love with them, but this was different, he never had to witness her naked skin pressed against someone else, placing her body on top of his, pretended noises he knew weren't real and authentic, but still, they were supposed to be just for him. All for the sake of making a point of her character being an adult now, some shit about an epiphany of being able to take control of her own life, make decisions about her body, and whatever the screenwriters wanted to portray.

And of course Lando didn't help himself.

user1: God has favorites, just check y/n having fake sex w tom holland and real sex w lando norris

user2: no but y/n and tom??? such a hot couple I NEED it to happen

user3: and what are you gonna do with lando and zendaya? lol user2: idc I just want y/n and tom to be a thing

And that was just the beginning, before the movie had even dropped, because the day of the premiere? Everything went wrong.

Sunny Los Angeles had welcomed you and Lando after landing from London, paparazzi eagerly waiting for the arrival at LAX, catching the perfect pictures of Lando placing you in front of him, holding your hand tightly and doing his best to shield your body from prying eyes who just wanted a couple of dollars.

Despite being jet lagged after spending a couple of days in your home in Monaco, there wasn't much time to catch a break because the moment the two of you set foot on the Beverly Hills Hotel, they barely let you take a shower before giving some nice, fluffy robes. Lando was first, out of nowhere two people were working on his hair while the other was applying some kind of serums and creams on his face, but he didn't care when it was time for another team to start working on you; Lando was mesmerized by the way your hair perfectly framed your face, the natural glow of your skin, the deep red of your lips.

"I don't like being so separated," Lando pouted, walking towards your seat, earning a giggle from you because he looked so funny and cozy with the big robe.

"There's not much we can do, baby. I can barely move," You searched for his eyes and that was when Lando got the idea. The hair stylists gasped when the racer sat down on the floor, circling his arms around one of your legs and resting his cheek on your thigh. "Oh, you're willing to be told off by the make up artists as well?" You asked him but your insides were dancing all over the place, your fingers quickly finding their place on his curls.

Neither of you noticed a Vogue photographer capturing the scene, with Lando's eyes closed and cheek smushed, with his arms secured around your leg, but neither realized representatives for Armani had walked in carrying Lando's tux and your body-hugging black velvet gown.

So far so good. A picture perfect young couple who loved each other very much and had photographers swooning by the way Lando fixes your earring and checks for lipstick on your teeth, and how you make sure his bow tie is leveled.

But then, they get to the red carpet.

It was an elegant affair, but still full of people and before he realized, the red carpet manager was separating you from him for an alone photo call before the one and only Tom Holland got there, cheerfully greeting you in front of the cameras, throwing a couple of jokes to make you laugh as he placed his hand on your back.

This was a nightmare, having to listen to people say how cute the two of you looked, a perfect on and off screen pair, chemistry on and off the screen, both your names already on the shortlist for the Oscars.

Lando's skin was starting to crawl, and it didn't help that he had to re watch the scenes haunting his mind, but this time it was out for the entire world to see, and it didn't take long for his latest instagram post to be flooded of vile comments.

when are you getting replaced by tom holland??

now tom holland can play you in movie and y/n plays herself, nothing changes lmao

lando control ur woman!!!

lucky man, she sounds so pretty I almost had to leave the theatre

lando honey you can leave her I'd never do that to you

And Lando knows he shouldn't, but when your hand reaches for his when the night ends, he pretends to look for his phone; when you try to fix a messy curl, he moves his head out of your reach.

and you know your boyfriend too well.

"Baby, are you okay?" You ask him once you reach the shared hotel room.

Lando lets out a dry chuckle, but too aware of his throat closing. "Why wouldn't I be?"

But you weren't having it, not today, not on your big day, not when you just wanted rest your head on his chest and fall asleep with his arms wrapped around your frame.

"I don't know, you tell me, you're the one acting weird,"

"I am not," Lando argued, trying to take deeper breath, but failing miserably.

"Okay Lando, whatever, I don't care. You can be selfish during a very important day for me for all I care,"

Those words struck a nerve: "Me? Selfish? Are you fucking kidding me?" Now you could see his cheeks flushing, maybe even his neck gaining some red color.

You wanted to be scared, to walk away and let him cool off any unwanted feeling or thought on his head, but you couldn't.

"No, I'm not. Please illustrate me as to what happened to put you in this insufferable mood," You argued back and watched as Lando's mouth opened and closed as he undid the cuffs from his shirt, threw the suit jacket on the leather sofa and threw away the bow tie, all in just a couple of seconds.

"Am I not allowed to be upset to watch him all over you, having to look at the both of you acting like the best of friends or lovers for all I care, and then have to watch on this fucking enormous screen how you kiss him and touch him," Lando spat the words as if they were venom; he could feel his throat closing

Your eyes widened in disbelief, your brain not processing Lando's words. "Lando, you are not making any sense. Are you listening to yourself?" You were careful not to raise your voice, knowing he wasn't in a clear space of mind, but you blood was running hot too after processing what he was implying.

"Yes, I am. (Y/N), baby, I'm tired of having to watch you making out with a different guy every a couple of months, it is so tiring, and I understand that this is your job, but..." Lando was about to continue but was stopped by you, messily taking off the heavy velvet dress and heels, putting on the first pair of jeans and oversized sweater you found. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want to listen to you anymore. You are ridiculous, Lando. You're talking about my job, my career, that I've worked my ass off, and never in a million years I thought you'd be telling me this bullshit! I'm not going to entertain this, so if you can't deal with this anymore, please let me know so that I can move on," this time your throat tightened, the last words coming out broken and choked, emotions fighting to make their way; from anger to utter sadness.

"Where are you going?" Lando didn't know if he was angry with you, disappointed in himself, maybe a mix of both as he watched you grab the Chanel black backpack.

"I don't know, but let me know if you can do this or what,"

You were sure those were the last words of the unforeseen argument, but as you were grabbing the card key of the room, Lando opened his mouth.

"Maybe you can go with Tom, everyone wants you two together anyway."

Of course he needed to get the last words.

[astrologyvas]

venus in the 8th house overlay/synastry

please do not copy or repeat my work anywhere

this synastry is one of my all time favs. before i get into it, i want to preface that this overlay will be especially compelling and impactful if you have a pluto dominant chart, significant 8th house placements, scorpionic energy or heavy pluto aspects. in fact, you may find yourself yearning for these kind of connections and the intensity it brings.

when you meet them, it's an instantly potent and magnetic experience. something draws you to them, and you immediately feel intrigued by their presence. you are quickly captivated and at the whim of this connection. these are the people who you keep on a pedestal in your heart. the people that you compare to when you meet someone new. the people that you think about late at night, when you're the only one awake.

venus in the 8th house gives both the planet and the house a similar taste in things like music, the arts, and other venusian themes. there is a deep appreciation of interests, which are often shared and acknowledged.

this overlay gives both parties, but heavily the venus, a craving to know more about their partner. they are fascinated by the crevices of the house's personality that they occasionally give venus a taste for. the house is an enigma to venus, and they want to figure them out.

when unevolved or unhealthy, this placement gives me the vibes of "i want you so bad and no one else can have you, but i'll never let you know that". extremely susceptible synastry for mind games, powerplay & toxicity if either parties feel insecure or imbalanced. these connections are often karmic in nature, and can feel like they latched onto your heart, sucking the blood out of it before disappearing completely.

the energy of this connection will undoubtedly be erotic. both parties, but specifically the house, will find the other physically irresistible. the planet person crawls into the house's head and lures out the deepest, most primal parts of them. m*sturbating and getting off while thinking about each other vibes.

accepting this union into your life unleashes powerful emotions. you feel like this person brings out your darkest side, like they want to see your flaws. you can't run or hide from them, they pry open the parts of yourself you keep locked with a key.

financially, this overlay feels loving in terms of money. the energy of "i'll buy you this, because you mean more to me than a few dollars ever could". money feels safe with this person, like the superficial aspects melt away.

it is an indescribable and all-consuming placement. the lust this connection brings is intoxicating. the venus in particular will feel like they need the house physically, like they would die without access to their body. since the 8th house rules over death and the occult, there is a very intense "i'd die happy with you" aura. the feeling of wanting to merge with them, because touching them isn't enough.

since this synastry is karmically charged, it usually blows up if either are receiving karma or paying debts through this tie. be mindful of betrayal, 3rd parties, and affairs.

after this connection ends, they linger & loom in the back of your mind. they eat away at the depths of your subconscious before you finally feel like you can move on. this synastry can be beautiful and interchangeably painful.

even after cutting them off, you feel the familiar hunger for them. they feel like an addiction that still invades your mind, looking for the fix only they can give you.

songs that may resonate:

break - alex g twilight - boa haunted - beyonce

[ficnation]

Chapter 1: Dig In

Series: “Eat Your Heart Out” Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female! Reader x Will Graham Word count: 4,6k+ Warnings: canon-typical warnings

Main Masterlist

NEXT CHAPTER

Will Graham hasn’t seen you in years—years that felt like centuries to him. When you greet him, your voice is like a songbird’s serenade—sweet, peaceful, and meant only for his ears. It was a melody he missed dearly yet never dared to summon in his mind, even as the memories of you bled into his dreams.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice breaking at the last word. The question is not hostile, but it’s not friendly either. He knows you didn’t expect him to greet you like an old friend would. You know him too well for that—or at least you knew him before Hannibal Lecter barged into his life.

A smile crawls up your face, but it never reaches your eyes. You came here because you know, you know someone’s version of the story. But you crave to see the truth—to find out exactly what happened—and you know that Will is the only person who can provide you with the answers you’re looking for.

Jack Crawford raises his hand, his palm facing Will in a silent greeting—almost a peace offer. He keeps his distance as he lifts your suitcases out of the trunk of his car. He’s the one that called you, told you everything you needed to know, how Will lost his mind, how he keeps insisting that an innocent man—someone he considered a friend—is the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will can’t help but snicker at the thought of how this conversation went. You don’t seem bothered by the change in his expression—you hardly ever were, and he was always surprised by your unflappable composure.

“I’m going to stay with you, Will.” It’s not a question nor a suggestion fueled by concern over his well-being. It’s a declaration, and he has absolutely no say in this matter. Jack Crawford has already made that decision for him, and Will is in no position to object—he’s well aware of it.

Will nods and gesticulates to the door of his house. It’s a reluctant invitation forced out of him by his boss’ incessant gaze.

You don’t let him think about it for much longer, fearing he’ll withdraw the offer. You walk up the stairs of the porch and cross the doorstep. The inside is no warmer than the bitter winter on the other side of the door. You shiver slightly, wrapping your arms around yourself for heat.

A flock of dogs runs up to you, wagging their tails in excitement. Some of them you’ve already met before, and some of them seem like recent additions to Will’s collection of strays. You pat each dog on the head as you take off your boots by the entrance. You note that you no longer feel like you are just another stray Will has taken into his home.

The warmth of the friendly dogs quickly makes you forget how much you don’t belong here; you enjoy their company for a moment before reluctantly moving on to explore the room.

Not much has changed since the last time you were here. Will’s bed is still in the room, and you remember the time he confessed to you that it makes him feel more aware of his surroundings—gives him a sparse flicker of safety. He has easy access to the windows overlooking the outside, and he hears whenever someone walks up the stairs to his porch. It’s a small shred of comfort to cling to in the midst of his torment—you understand his reasoning.

The fireplace is the same one you used to warm up in front of every morning when you slept over—just surrounded by more dog beds than before. The old, simple in their design but surprisingly comfortable armchairs stand in their designated spots. Dog toys litter the carpeted floor, while books and familiar trinkets overwhelm the shelves, though if you look more closely, you find new additions mixed in with the old.

“Nothing has changed,” you say to yourself and the chill air of the room. You don’t hear Will’s footsteps as he joins you in the heart of his house.

“I did.” His words make your head whip around to face him, your eyes finding his. There’s a certain darkness in his statement—one you recognize.

The brown curls on his head frame his face in an untamed mess. He’s beautiful, and you find yourself still affected by his proximity.

“I don’t think you did.”

“You’ve been here for seven minutes, I can’t imagine you know much,” Will retorted.

“I know you, Will.” You meet his eyes for a few seconds—it doesn’t take much longer for him to look away. He hasn’t changed.

“Not anymore. Believe me,” his voice is certain and steady, but his hands shake as he reaches for your cozy black coat.

You let him slide it off your shoulders—the chill of the room refreshing. Will Graham isn’t a gentleman—he’s never conformed to society’s expectations. The gesture isn’t meant to impress you, make you swoon, or simply check a box. He does it because he still feels something toward you—he still cares.

You don’t talk much after that. Will makes some space for your stuff in his closet and leaves your suitcases in one of the many empty rooms. You thank him with another smile that doesn’t reach your eyes—there’s too much worry in them to convey your gratitude.

He goes on a walk with the dogs while you decide to take stock of his fridge and cupboards in search of any ingredients that you could possibly turn into a late dinner—french crepes filled with whatever jam or other sweet spreading he has in his kitchen.

You make yourself cozy in one of the armchairs in front of the crackling fireplace, your legs tucked comfortably beneath you when the door opens, and a blast of cold winter air rushes in along with seven dogs, melting snow clinging onto their fur stubbornly. They sniff around the room in search of the source of the sweet, delicious smell.

Will follows in their steps, taking off his boots by the door. It won’t take long for his socks to soak up the drops of water scattered over the floor—remnants of the snow shaken off by the happy furry beasts. He says nothing for a few long minutes, merely taking in your form, the sweet smell, and the cozy atmosphere. It feels like you belong here, even if just for a moment until you deem him deranged and leave again for long years.

“Crepes?” he asks finally, sliding off his heavy jacket. Will imprints on his memory the image of you so peaceful and comfortable in his home, in his presence.

You hum in response, sticking the fork back into your mouth. “I only found jam and peanut butter.”

“It’s an accomplishment you found anything at all.” He chuckles but isn’t truly amused by it—it is a pitiful sound.

The brunet disappears into the kitchen, and when he returns, his plate is filled with food. He sits down in the other armchair with a heavy sigh—a sound so murky only an old man could make or someone so exhausted with life they didn’t see a point in it anymore.

“I believe you, you know?”

Will’s head shoots up in your direction; he almost chokes on his crepes. He didn’t foresee that at all—the thought of you believing him without even hearing his side of the story, believing in his conviction that Hannibal is the Chesapeake Ripper without even asking for evidence. When everyone around him considered him delusional and regarded his accusation with ignorance or anger—you believed him. He straightens up in his seat, looking at you expectantly, begging silently for you to continue.

“I suppose Jack didn’t tell you why exactly am I here, huh?” Will shakes his head, making you sigh deeply as you mindlessly stab the remaining crepe on your plate with the fork—he notices the anger simmering behind your irises. “Figured. They found my father’s killer in our old house.”

“Dead?”

You nod in confirmation.

“Suicide.” Your voice isn’t relieved; it doesn’t incandesce with light like it should.

Will knows that sometimes, even when the murderer is caught or killed, it takes a while to really settle into witnesses’ minds, and sometimes, they never taste that sweetness of relief for the rest of their lives. Yet, it doesn’t seem to be the problem in your case.

“He was missing a lot of blood and it didn’t appear to be anything abnormal back then so they considered the case solved. Let us come out of hiding.”

“Except it wasn’t a suicide,” the man finishes your thought. He’s right—like always. “Someone wanted you to come back… The real killer?”

He looks at you for confirmation, but his idea seems to be too facile—child’s play. If that were the case, the FBI wouldn’t let you stay with him without protection—unless they considered him your protector. Something feels off about it.

“Will, my sister was killed by the Chesapeake Ripper.”

Will stares at you with his eyes wide open. He’s looking at your face in a way that he’s never looked before. He can finally see you, your emotions, and despair—the mask you hid them under shatters into crumbs and floats away with his shaky breath. He hears the misery in your voice now—almost sees your winsome heart smashed into a million pieces inside your chest.

“I’m so sorry… I—” Will’s words are automatic as he processes your statement. He stays perfectly still in his armchair. “I didn’t—”

“What’s done is done, Will,” you interrupt him, shaking your head—a silent plea that he doesn’t blame himself for it. It doesn’t help—he still does.

The moment you stop talking, he can hear the faint ticking of the watch on your wrist. He looks at you, waiting for more to come, but you stay silent. Your eyes linger on your plate with a half-eaten crepe—the jam spilling out onto the white ceramic canvas; you seem to be contemplating something.

He remembers back on that stormy night when you came home at the end of a particularly complicated and brutal investigation—soaked and chilled to the bone. You had a small cut on your arm, not big enough to require stitches, but he wanted—no, he needed—to clean it up and kiss it all better, anyway.

Will could tend to a cut on your skin, but he couldn’t scour the one on your soul—he couldn’t kiss it all better. He always felt the need to fix things—fix you. Now? He has no idea how to take that pain away from you.

He knows he should be glad to see you—glad to see you again. But right now, there’s only sadness, confusion, and guilt because, somehow, this isn’t quite you. There has been this beautiful, bright light shining from you, but it’s missing, and the man feels the loss of it inside. He wants to reach out and take this sadness away from you, comfort you, and bring back that light you always had. He almost wants to cry—he doesn’t even know why himself.

Will swallows hard and finally speaks, voice shaking, “Can I ask you something?”

He hesitates as if afraid of the potential answer. The only thing keeping him from sinking into emptiness is your presence, and asking the wrong question might have a devastating effect. Will looks at you—eyes pleading for understanding.

“Yes. Of course…”

“What did he take?” He almost doesn’t recognize his voice. It seems to be a mere whimper—a noise buried deep within a wounded animal’s throat.

“Her heart.”

Your words strike him like a bullet. Will closes his eyes, trying hard to keep the salty water from filling them. The loss of one heart was unbearable, losing another one physically… He tries to find a reason not to be angry at fate—but there is none. The world gave you back to him, but at what cost?

He reaches out, taking your hand in his. His touch seems reassuring and gentle, but his eyes betray his anger. “I never should have let you leave...”

You ignore his words, looking into the void, and continue, “Her lungs.”

Another cruel twist of the dagger in his gut. He feels your hand squeeze his, almost as if it were asking for comfort. Yet, Will cannot be a comfort at this moment—he is too enraged at the thought of such brutality.

His gaze turns cold as stone, his hand tightening around yours as he holds back the emotions boiling up inside him, threatening to explode and tear everything apart. His eyes remain closed—unwilling to see any more of your pain. You can feel the anger radiating from him like heat.

If she stops breathing, my heart will stop with it—those were his words to Hannibal. Another therapy session he now deeply regrets. It is his fault—his fault that your sister died. And amongst all the hatred, anger, and remorse, he feels a bone-chilling relief that it wasn’t you in her place.

He knows it’s twisted to think like that; he shouldn’t even feel like that, but he can’t imagine his life knowing you were buried deep—six feet beneath the earth he was walking on and still breathing. He doesn’t know whether it was Hannibal’s well-thought-through plan or his fucked up mistake, but Will is grateful.

You are breathing, alive, and your pulse is beating fast beneath his tight grasp. He does not want to let go of it—not yet.

Will opens his eyes, still unable to see your face, yet so very relieved. He doesn’t let go of your hand, his fingers running over your knuckles as if, by touch, he can somehow reassure himself that you weren’t his imagination.

The anger inside him still roils, but he no longer shows it. The only hint of his discomfort is the tightness with which he holds your hand.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he mumbles out, almost inaudible.

“No, Will, I won’t let anything happen to you.” You meet his gaze, your eyes almost begging. “I can’t lose you too. You’re the only one I have left.”

Will smiles at you sadly. His eyes filled with a strange light, his fingers running through your hair. Your plates have been long forgotten on the nearby windowsill as he leans forward and carefully touches your cheek, running his forefinger across your lips and down to your chin.

At first, you think the gesture is affectionate—intimate. But then you notice that he’s trying to remember your every feature. It’s painful to think that someone who loved you so dearly might have forgotten your face, the feel of your skin under his touch. Maybe it’s this thought that makes your eyes well up with tears; maybe it is the gesture itself. Or possibly even both.

This moment feels so real, so raw—you are tempted to believe in it, to be hopeful for your future, at least for a moment. But after all you went through, you know that hope is a dangerous thing, and it can turn against you. It’s been so long since all your hopes have been crushed you almost forgot how to have them... And just like that, the moment vanishes, and reality crashes back.

Later that night, when you come out of the shower and crawl into his bed—your clothes sticking to the slightly damp skin, your hair in an unruly mess—he simply opens his arms.

“You claim to be my friend, yet you sleep in my bed like a lover would,” he says—he still remembers the words you whispered to him when the roles were reversed.

Will smiles at the irony, his arms wrapping around you. Your hair is still dripping, the water sliding down your neck and onto his chest. It trickles down in rivulets to his stomach, creating wet spots on his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to care.

You notice his grip is tighter than usual, yet you feel no pain, no discomfort. If he wanted to hurt you, he would. But you’re safe here—in his arms. Safer than you’ve ever been.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love having me in your bed,” you mumble against his neck, your minty breath tickling his skin.

His body shivers, and a soft sound escapes his lips. Your words remind him of the years of loneliness, of his body yearning for your touch. The sound is almost a whimper, and you feel his fingers twining in your wet hair.

The feeling is intoxicating. For years, he couldn’t touch a woman, didn’t even dream about having one so close to his skin, couldn’t feel someone’s body pressed tightly against him in a bed because they weren’t you—they dimmed in comparison. He missed it; he missed this connection, this skin-to-skin contact.

His hand lingers in your hair, the other one tracing your skin, exploring every inch of it, memorizing every imperfection, every bump beneath his palm.

“You haven’t been with anyone else, have you?” It’s not really a question—more of a sure statement—because, after all, you know Will like the back of your hand.

His head shakes, and both of his hands now run down your body. Will takes his sweet time exploring every inch of you—your hips, thighs, your stomach, and neck.

“I haven’t,” he whispers, almost embarrassed. As if his body belongs to someone else, and giving it to you now is a betrayal of that person.

Betrayal of you—the one he once knew—because he’s not entirely sure you’re still the same person. You were always so cheerful and full of life before—anything you touched, growing wings, flying out of the confines of its cage.

He yearns for this contact, craves a woman’s body—craves your body. He touches your skin, lightly running his fingertips over it, trying to bring back the memories from before. Will’s mind spins, trying to place the puzzle of you in the present.

He holds your face, trying to remember the way your eyes shined, the smile on your lips, the way your hair used to look. The feeling of your body, skin to skin, is almost painful. Your lips are so close, your heart beating so fast…

Winston jumps onto the bed, the weight and heat of his furry body on your calves makes you both pull away hesitantly.

“Sorry,” you mumble out the apology into the stillness of the air.

Will looks at you with a soft smile and a faint blush on his cheeks. “It’s fine.” He glances over at the dog. “What’s the matter, little fella? Can’t sleep?” He reaches over to pet the dog, then he turns his attention back to you.

The atmosphere changes completely, filled with the sounds of the night and Winston’s heavy breathing. Yet, although your physical proximity to Will has changed, you still feel connected to him in a way that only two people who are truly close can. The warmth of Winston’s body seems to melt the tension.

The dog snuggles up against you both, the three of you creating your own little world of peace. Will is the first to speak, “I’d rather be in bed with you only,” he sends you a smirk, “but I would still get the same amount of hair on my clothes.”

You feel your lips part in a grin; your breath catches in your throat, and it takes a moment before you’re able to answer his playful jab.

Will catches you in this moment of surprise as if he can smell your anticipation in the air. His hands wrap around your waist, dragging you closer until your bodies are pressed snugly once more.

When he smiles at you, it’s as if the world stops briefly. Your eyes lock, and for a second, there is nothing else but the two of you.

“It’s a sad thing your smile is so rare,” you whisper, your fingers tracing his stubbled jaw.

Will's heart pounds in his chest. He takes your hand in his, running his fingers along your skin. There's always been an undeniable spark between you, but this time, it feels different, more intense. Like if you let yourself go and let the spark ignite, the fire will burst out of your chest.

Will leans closer to you; your noses are almost touching. His brown eyes are so close you can see every detail in them despite the darkness of the room. You can feel the tension in the air, and you know what would break it...

“Will, I... I can’t—” You stumble over your words, gaze parting from his.

Your stutter is cut short by Will’s lips touching yours. A soft sound escapes him as if he’s been waiting for you to stop speaking so he can taste you. His tongue slips over your lips, exploring your mouth.

This is not the clumsy, almost animalistic lust he had for you in the past—it’s something different. Something tender, almost sweet.

Your hands fall limply onto the duvet, your heart beating faster, your breath catching in your throat as you sink deeper into the kiss. You don’t want this to end… So you pull him closer.

Seemingly annoyed by the nonstop movement, Winston jumps off the bed and retreats to his place by the lit-up fireplace. You almost giggle at that, but you’re far too busy with kissing Will’s lips raw.

Your hands find their way onto his neck next, your fingers running through his curls. With lips almost glued to his, you pull him back every time he tries to move.

The sound of your heavy breathing is enough to make his heart pound in his chest as if his very blood is racing. He’s holding you so tightly you fear you might break. Will breathes in the smell of you, almost intoxicated by it. Your scent enriches him—sends his emotions into a whirlwind.

After a moment, he manages to pull away, gasping for breath. He is still holding you, hands pressed against your back, as if not wanting to let go. Will tries to catch his breath—it feels like his entire life is contained in those few moments.

His eyes find yours, looking for some reassurance, as if he expects to wake up from a dream any moment now. He opens his mouth to say words but can’t find any. All he can do is look at you, so beautiful in the darkness. Will closes his eyes as if trying to cling to this moment.

“I’m glad I’m back. Despite the circumstances...” Your fingers play with his curls, your breath just as shaky as his.

“You’re back...” Will murmurs, looking at you relieved, touching your face as if to make sure you’re still here. He wants to speak, to tell you everything that is going through his mind, but when he opens his mouth again, no words come out. He tries to collect himself—tries to bring his heart to your level.

“It’s been a long time... We should probably talk. You know, just to catch up.”

“You like talking now?” Your grin is electrifying, it sends heat down the man’s body. But when he notices it doesn’t reach your eyes, his neediness crumbles.

A veil of insecurity falls over his face. “No… I don’t like talking. But I still do it if I have to, so can we just…” Will gestures to the two of you, the room—just a sign of exasperation and need to do this now. He swallows hard, trying to find his voice. “It’s just... it’s been a long time. And I... you know... there is just a lot that happened.”

“Will,” the way you say his name halts him, “it’s okay if you want to talk.”

He blinks slowly, suddenly confused—why did he even try to lie about it? Hannibal gave him his voice and showed him the power of his words—the good one and the evil one.

Will lets out a deep breath and then closes his eyes. It’s always been hard for him to tell people how he feels. Especially when he wants to say more than any amount of words can describe—and there is a lot to describe. There is so much he has to tell you, and yet when he tries to form the words—to get them out—his mind goes blank.

He opens his eyes and looks at you for help, but you look just as confused as before. “I don’t even know where to begin,” he says softly. “So much has changed.”

“You haven’t. Not as much as you think you did.”

He sees the impossibly black creature in his peripheral vision. It stands behind you, completely still, and its antlers seem much more massive than ever before when he catches their shadow falling onto you. He wants it to be gone so badly, but deep inside, he knows it’ll never vanish if Hannibal is still alive, and maybe even after his death, he’ll never get his peace back.

“Your opinion will change quicker than you realize.”

The creature’s still there, Will looks it straight into its void of color eyes. It’s just in his mind, yet the shiver that runs down your spine tells him you might feel its presence, too. He hates that he can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not or if you can indeed see it, too. A feeling of dread seizes him, a cold sensation that runs up his arms and into his bones.

“Hannibal...” he whispers, but when he looks around the room, he sees no sign of the creature. The sense of dread lingers, nevertheless.

“The Chesapeake Ripper?” you question, and he tells you all about it. All about Hannibal’s mind games—what he did to him and then what he undid.

Will tells you about the therapy sessions, his transformation, and the darkness that took hold of him. He talks about his memories of your sister, about his guilt, and then he moves on to you—your absence and the reason why you left. The void he felt for all those dark years without you—until he was given the chance to have you back, a light guiding him back into reality. And you listen carefully to all of it; you let him speak his heart out until he no longer feels the need to speak.

When he is done telling you everything, Will falls silent. It feels like he laid bare his soul, exposing his most intimate thoughts, yet you still lie in front of him, unchanged. He looks at you, almost expecting you to leave. After all, how much can a person handle? But your gaze is still strong; you still care about him at least a little…

It’s almost as if you’re reading his mind. “I still care about you, Will. My feelings never changed and they never will. I’ll do anything I can to help you get him.”

His eyes soften at your words, and he closes the distance between you two. Slowly he kisses your lips, tasting your breath, feeling his mouth move against yours. The sensation is so intense that it almost sends sparks through Will’s body.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispers into your ear before he turns your head and kisses you again. His hands rest on your back, pulling you in even closer as his tongue dances against yours. “And I’ve missed you. So goddamn much...”

Will pulls away, breathless, as if his entire body is aflame. He looks at you, studying your face so intently it’s almost as if he wants to burn your image into his brain. “So much,” he repeats softly.

He rests his head against yours, breathing in the sound of your heartbeat, listening to the rise and fall of your chest. “You’re here. You’re really here.” He exhales a sigh of relief as if your presence is the sweetest gift he could have ever wished for.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“Oh, Christ—” the hero cursed. They tried to laugh but this time, they couldn’t conjure the energy for it. Usually they laughed off most things but this was a little too serious.

“Stop moving,” the villain hissed. They pressed their palm into the hero’s side and although the hero wanted to pretend it didn’t actually hurt them, it burnt. It burnt a lot.

The hero had never experienced this kind of pain nor had they ever had the slightest idea how mortal they actually were. To be fair, they had never ripped open most of their torso either.

With the villain putting more pressure onto the wound each second, the hero could only pray that they wouldn’t pass out.

“And stop smiling, this isn’t funny,” the villain added.

“I’m nervous,” the hero explained. “And this fucking hurts.”

The villain slammed them back against the tiles when their hips moved up. It made the hero whine and beg like a dog but the villain didn’t seem to care about that. Eventually, they sat down on the hero’s hips and kept their hands on their flesh.

In other circumstances, this would’ve promised a good night. The hero was already without a shirt and the villain was, indeed, certainly attractive.

However, the hero was quite sure they had never seen this much blood in their entire life. If they had had the energy, they would have apologised for the bloody bathroom. The sink and floor especially.

“You won’t die on me. I know how to fix this.”

“Wouldn’t the bleeding stop if you pushed your fingers into the wound?” the hero asked. They felt light-headed. They had heard something like this in training. A sort of last-resort-thing.

But their thoughts already blurred together. They took in deep breaths as their body pumped blood through their torso. They were delirious, tasting blood. Oh God, the villain would kill them for ruining the bathroom.

“Do you actually want that?” the villain asked. The hero looked at the villain’s fingers move towards the cylindrical wound. Two fingers were on the raw and bleeding flesh, dipped in thick blood and nearly digging into the messy wound.

“Ah, maybe not—” It had been a screwdriver. The hero had been attacked with a screwdriver and their nemesis tried to save them from bleeding out.

It was so pathetic, so embarrassing, the hero could only laugh weakly. On their patrol the hero had been a little too confident, a little too cocky and now they turned the villain’s white bathroom into a red nightmare. This damn bathroom.

“Smart choice.” Instead of pushing their fingers into the wound, they used their palm again. Without much thought, the hero grabbed the villain’s arm but they couldn’t swallow the scream this time.

By now, tears ran down their cheeks and they could feel the wound pulsate. They wanted the villain’s soft touch and their sweet smile.

They wanted to fall asleep on their chest and forget about this stupid thing.

Longing for someone was something the hero loathed.

“Just let me die, please, this is torture.” They whimpered the last words. With one last rush of energy, they pushed themselves up to talk some sense into the villain but the villain only pushed them down again.

“I’m afraid this isn’t your decision anymore. I will save you and I’m sorry you’re hurt.” They grabbed the bottle of pure rubbing alcohol and the hero nearly managed to crawl back a little. “You need to survive.”

“Please, there is so much blood…”

“I am not going to let you die.”

“Then please be gentle.” The tears made it difficult to see them but the villain stared at them and the hero could feel something shift. Something was changing behind the villain’s eyes. They hesitated. “What?”

“Here.” The villain took their hand. “Squeeze as hard as you can when it starts to hurt.”

“You’re too kind,” the hero joked. Exhaustion took over them quickly. They were sweating. They felt disgusting. They were trembling. They waited for the alcohol to burn their skin.

“Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” The hero frowned but the villain slapped them immediately without an explanation. The hero was so confused, so offended that they didn’t expect the following pain of the alcohol on their raw skin.

They supposed it was better this way but they still cursed the villain with every single insult they could come up with.

[mirrology]

Can I ask a boothill with an adopted child/teen reader that's hps (hyper sensitive) and also has parental trauma

(You don't have to do this if you feel uncomfortable 🐧)

ノstar .ᐟ ʚɞ

୨୧ No matter that love's gone, We just see it shining. We've traveled very far, I'll keep a leftover light burning. So you can keep looking up, Isn't that worth holding on? — star, mitski.

boothill & gender neutral reader. platonic | wc: 1.6k

tags/warnings: decided to go with hc's for this one since I didn't know how to write it in fic format T_T. teen reader, reader is a galaxy ranger and really well versed in technology. they can fight pretty well, reader also hates the ipc. boothill is a bad influence. mentioned child abuse, child neglect, reader has a "mom" and acts a little like blade when near her, erm character death (not reader or boothill)

notes: aaaa sorry that this is so late! Hopefully, this is what you meant by "hypersensitive." If not, then just let me know, and I'll change it, ALSO HAPPY PRIDE MONTH

— The two of you met when you were beating up some IPC goons on a planet that they had recently wanted to take over. You had been there gathering materials to set sail to your next destination, you were on the hunt for a certain IPC employee. One who you once knew.

— You couldn't just stand back and watch those IPC scum send that planet into spiraling chaos. So, of course, you beat them up without breaking a sweat. That's where Boothill had found you, he was impressed that someone so young had such skill in combat.

↳ You huffed as the remaining IPC personnel ran away with their tails between their legs. A slow sound of applause came from behind you, causing you to turn around, a deadpan evident on your face. You were met with a man with dual colored hair and what seemed to be a metal body, “I'm not gonna lie, you've got skills, kid.” He had said, a smirk on his face.

— Once the both of you got to talking, he found out you were also a galaxy ranger and that you also absolutely hated the IPC, you both really had many things in common. You had asked him for help in getting to your destination and he agreed pretty easily, claiming that he had “some time to spare”

— Although you had spent little time together, you felt comfortable around him, he never pushed your boundaries or forced you to do things you didn't want to. Boothill’s vocabulary surprised you, instead of cursing normally his words were censored. You would have offered to try to fix his synesthesia beacon, but just the thought of touching someone made your skin crawl. The ghostly touches of people who you once considered family etched onto your skin.

— Once it came to part ways, you didn't want to do so. You shyly admitted to Boothill that the thought of not seeing him scared you a tad bit. He looked surprised but then gave you a bright smile and told you that you could join him on his adventures, and so a strong bond between the both of you was born.

— When Boothill infiltrated the IPC headquarters you're the one who hacked into their system. With your experience, it was relatively easy, although Boothill would not let you go inside with him. He couldn't risk putting you in danger, even though he knows you can put up a fight.

— When the both of you escaped the headquarters after causing absolute chaos, Boothill brought his hand up to your head as he tried to ruffle your hair. He was surprised and slightly hurt when you tensed up and quickly moved out of the way.

— Boothill thought he had made you scared of him somehow, even though you had no reason to be afraid. You noticed his downcast expression and you quickly told him that he did nothing wrong, it was just…

↳ Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands were sweating. You reached up and gripped a strand of your hair in your hand as a sheepish expression painted your face. “I'm not the best with physical touch,” You blurted out, albeit bluntly. “Whenever someone touches me — even if it's just a brush of their fingers, it feels like needles are being stuck into my skin” You huffed, clenching your fist and your eyes downcast. Boothill's expression softened, his once frown lifting into an understanding smile. “Thanks for telling me, bud.” He nodded, his fingers twitching at his side, as if wanting to reach out to you. Yet he respected your space and refrained from doing so.

— Now that Boothill knew about your hypersensitivity he made no attempts to touch you, preferring to give you gifts instead. Whenever you do something that makes him proud as a father would a child; he takes you out to get your favorite food as a treat. Of course verbal encouragement is also a thing he does, giving you a “I'm proud of ya’ kid!” and a pointy grin.

— It's canon Boothill is pretty wealthy from all of those bounties that he hunts and he doesn't exactly know what to do with it. So he definitely spoils you at every chance he gets. Want a nice Keychain you saw in a shop? He's handing it to you right now. How about a nice piece of clothing or a cultural food from the planet that you're visiting? He's got the clothing in a bag and is urging you to try the food.

— Even though you both have your moments of happiness, the both of you still have purposes you stick to. You had gotten a lead on where that person was and you were going to do everything to catch up to them and make them get what they deserved.

↳ “You.” You hissed walking towards the woman in an IPC uniform, kicking another unconscious employee away. You gripped your weapon tightly in your hand, the woman widened her eyes in terror at your sudden appearance, she fell on her bottom, scooting away from you as you approached her. As she backed away she didn't go far, her back hitting a wall not too long after. Your unhurried footsteps resonated through her ears, making her breath pick up as she clutched the dirt underneath her in an attempt to ground herself.

You stopped in front of her, eyes full of unbridled anger. “(N-name)?!” She squeaked, putting a hand out infront of her to reach out to you. “What are.. how are you-” She was cut off as the back of your weapon slapped her intruding hand away. “You don't get to say my name.” You glared at her, your tone icy cold and unforgiving. She tried to speak once more but was once again cut off, “You left me to die! If it wasn't for my quick thinking, I would have been dead by now!” You said in a firm tone and pointed your weapon straight at her, leaving her no room to move or else you would attack.

The woman tensed up and a bead of sweat ran down the side of her cheek, “Honey… I had no choice! You would only weigh me down, you have to understand!” She had the gall to call you “honey” this woman no longer had the honor of doing so. The words stung, even though you no longer felt any affection for her… they brought back memories that you would rather forget. You clenched your teeth and watched as she rambled on and on about how “it was for your own good” and that “you should try to understand her situation” before she would get another word out, you sound your weapon, officially slicing her throat.

The blood splattered onto your stoic face, you watch as she choked on her own blood, eyes wide and filled with panic as if her life was flashing before her eyes… you hope it hurts.

A set of footsteps came from behind you, judging by the jingling of metal and their heavy footsteps you could tell who it was. You reluctantly turned around to meet Boothill's concerned gaze, “Er.. ya’ okay kiddo?” He scratched the side of his face as he pointed out the tears that prickled at the corner of your eyes. You stared at the ground and slowly nodded “I don't entirely hate her, but she didn't deserve to know that… even in her last moment” You muttered as more salty tears filled your vision.

— You and Boothill headed back to your ship, all while you were still occasionally shedding tears. Boothill, seeing the state you were in, offered you a warm, fluffy blanket and a warm drink; hot chocolate.

↳ You sniffled and held the blanket that was over your shoulders to your chest. You were sat on a cushion on the floor of yours and Boothill’s ship, knees tucked towards your chest in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. “Heya kiddo, I got ya’ some hot chocolate…” Boohill plopped down next to you on a matching cushion and held out the mug that was in his robotic hand. His hand was placed below the mug so when you reached to get it, you both wouldn't accidentally brush fingers.

The both of you sat in a pregnant silence and you occasionally sipping on the warm drink provided to you. Boothill stared at you from the corner of his eye, your gaze was focused on the window, giving you the view of the vast space. “She was my mother, you know” You suddenly broke the silence with your blunt words, Boothill’s eyes widened a significant amount, yet you continued.

“Even though she claimed to love me, her actions hurt and her words even more.” You put your mug down beside you and snuggled further into the blanket. The cyborg's face softened into something different, almost sad, distraught. His teeth clenched in anger at the thought of you being hurt by that woman, something ugly bloomed in his mechanical chest.

“But now she's gone,” Boothill started, making you turn your head to look at him with a surprised expression. “She can't hurt you anymore nor anyone, not when I'm around” He grinned, his shark-like teeth out on display. Something in your chest felt warm, it was different but not unpleasant. You offered Boothill a small smile then took a deep breath and raised your pinky up, “Pinky promise?” your voice a bit shaky, but your eyes were filled with determination.

Boothill slowly brought his pinky up, gently intertwining it with yours. They were barely touching but it was progress, “Promise.” The cyborg nodded firmly.

Tears pricked at you eyes, not in sadness nor anger, but relief.

“Thank you.”

[lipringlrh]

race for your heart | mv1

summary: you’re not meant to be there, but you can’t stay away, especially not from the racer who can’t stop winning.

pairing: illegal street racer!max x fem!reader

an: might be my fave thing i’ve ever written. thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts? i’m also not an illegal street racer and have never seen one so might not be accurate x

word count: 3.7k

warnings: illegal, police chase, speeding, mentions of drugs and dodgy men

feedback appreciated and requests open!!

…

You'd been here a few times before, not regularly, never more than twice a month, but enough times to know how everything goes. You weren't meant to be here the first time, you found it by a complete accident but you were grateful now. It filled you with both excitement and dread to be here. It was illegal and wrong, nevermind the fact someone could die.

The place was crawling with creeps and criminals everywhere, one wrong move or one wrong sentence could get you on the wrong side of some dangerous people, but you lived for the thrill. The danger of the drive, and watching the drivers do it. In brand new sports cars you could only dream of affording. You didn't really know much about the drivers, except one.

Max.

He caught your eye instantly when you'd first shown. He was stood there, head to toe in black, his arm placed carefully on his car, showing off all the right bits. He was the reason you kept coming back. He was fast, quicker than all the other drivers, and everyone knew it. He was the one people wanted to challenge, to beat, but they never seemed to.

You'd seen the bets. The money people were giving to the winner after every race. More money than you knew what to do with. You craved it, the luxury and the lifestyle, but it seemed impossible. You weren't a fast driver, and you weren't a criminal by any means yet you still found yourself drawn here every time. And drawn to the driver everyone deemed untouchable.

He was the same today: a winner. You never expected any different, no one did. All the prizes were handed to him on a gold platter. Crowds cheered for him, men patting him on the back as he got out of his car to grab a beer. He met your eye again as he sat at the bar. He was left alone now, the crowds already moving on to the next big thing to talk about. He didn't look away, and for the second time, he found himself walking over to you.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" He grumbled, taking a sip of his beer. He changed his clothes after the race, now dressed in a white button-down and jeans.

He was weary of you the first time you met. You looked lost, you were, and you were not the kind of person to be here. You looked too pure and good to be surrounded by lousy criminals with more money than they knew what to do with. He wondered if you were with the police, trying to scope out the area and shut it down, but he learned quickly he was wrong.

You explained you were lost and he blindly believed you. He was worried once you figured out what you were doing that you would go to the police but he made you promise you wouldn't, and after he watched how your knees went weak after he called you a "good girl," he knew you wouldn't.

He saw you the next few times you went, looking less and less lost every time, but he never caught your eye long enough to feel confident in walking over. "Can you imagine that?" He thought to himself, "I'm treated as though I'm a fucking god around here and I still can't talk to a girl." He beat himself down over it, watching you interact with people he never wanted you to talk to, in fear they'd ruin the pure image he'd created of you in his head. So he watched from afar, giving creeps the eye long enough to scare them off. Of course, you didn't know it was him sending these men away, but sometimes you were grateful and other times you weren't. He felt bad for a moment before not caring again. "It's to keep her safe," he promised to himself every time.

You didn't reply to him immediately, instead drinking in his appearance: the way his face looked under the moonlight, the way his jaw locked when you didn't reply, and the way his shirt stretched over his muscles perfectly, letting you see everything.

"So?" he replied, smirking, watching you look him up and down more times than he could count, "are you going to answer me?"

You're eyes flew to his face again, watching as he became more confident the longer he saw you looking.

"What did you ask?" you mumbled, holding eye contact.

"I said: "What's a pretty girl like you doing here alone, again?" Think you can answer that?" he challenged, taking a step closer. He saw what he did to other girls, how he made them crumble, but nothing compared to you, and how he loved watching his effect on you.

"I- well, I just came for a beer?" you answered, sounding more unconfident the more you went on. You knew why you were here: because you liked it, but you didn't want to. It was criminal yet here you were, enjoying the thrill and the danger. And watching Max, racing or not.

"And the last time? And the time before that? You don't seem like the type of girl to go out drinking alone, especially to the type of place so dirty and illegal." He asked, teasing, stepping closer once again. His voice was growing louder even as he got closer until he was touching you and leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I think you like it, don't you?"

Your body shuddered at the closeness, your hand flying straight to his arm to keep balance. Instead, you made it worse for yourself, grabbing straight onto his muscles, and turning your face the slightest shade of red. You hoped Max wouldn't be able to see - you were too close and there wasn't much light, but you were very wrong. Crowds moved everywhere around you, but all of Max's focus was on you. It was impossible for him not to notice, he was trying to pick up on every detail that he could about you.

His head lifted back up so you could see him fully like he could see you. Your faces were barely apart, a few centimetres at best, but it still messed with your head, a million thoughts flying everywhere at once until there were none. None other than Max and what his lips would feel like pressed against yours.

You let out the slightest nod as a response to his question. You didn't want to admit you liked it but with Max so close to you it was the only reaction you could even fathom of giving. He was messing with your head and he hasn't even done anything yet.

"Are you going to answer me like a good girl or just stand there?" he says, with the cockiest attitude you'd ever seen. He knew what he did to you, and what else those two little words would do, and he loved it.

Before you got the chance to reply, you felt pressure on your back and you were pushed into Max. He grabbed you and kept you upright, but he couldn't miss the sudden uproar of the crowd and the fact they were all running in the same direction.

He gave you a once over to make sure you were alright before looking forward to try to see what was happening. People were screaming and running and he couldn't tell why. His arms wrapped around you in a protective manner, pulling you closer in an attempt to keep you safe.

So many people were shouting at him and he couldn't make out what anyone was saying. He was trying to figure it out but it seemed impossible. You were almost pushed again but the person managed to stop themselves. Max didn't care, he was almost starting to shout at them for their recklessness until he finally found out what was happening.

"Police! Run!" the man screamed at him before carrying on running himself. It was like his fight or flight mode kicked in and he wasn't going to get caught.

"My car," he said as he realised an escape plane, telling you at the same time. He found your hand and took off running, dragging you with him. He led you both to the side of the crowd so that you wouldn't get lost and led you quickly to his car.

Police were everywhere, especially near the cars. They were parked on the road but out of the way of the runners. Many of them were unregistered or stolen, and others held bags upon bags of drugs. Police were stood by his car, trying to look inside the windows for anything immediately suspicious. They were covering the drivers side and he knew he would have to be fast.

"When I jump across to the drivers side, get into the passenger seat and shut the door," he called back to you. You processed the information, barely, and nodded, but Max was already focused on using his free hand to find his keys.

He got them, twisting them around, and unlocking the car just as he was about to reach it. The police were looking in the backseat, but were too slow to process the flashing orange lights and the doors at the opposite side opening.

Max leaped in and switched sides like a machine, doing it with so much ease it seemed impossible. He grabbed the driver's side door, holding it close as officers tried to open it.

"Get in," he screamed, watching as you paused for a moment. You made eye contact with an officer whilst quickly overthinking your whole life up until this moment. How did this happen?

You couldn't think much longer and you got inside, shutting the door shut with a slam. You let out a sigh of relief much too quickly as your breath hitched with the speed the car had just started.

Max locked the doors and took off in a flash. The car sped up in an instant, going to speeds you never dreamed of. Max was absorbed into the roads, dodging people and officers as he tried to escape.

Your hand gripped the seats until your knuckles were white; this was not a situation you ever wanted to be in. Max noticed, taking his eyes off of the road every few seconds to double-check you were okay.

"I do this every day and I've never got hurt," his eyes flicked back to your face after trying to reassure you, which was obviously failing.

"You won't get into trouble with the police either." he tried again. After looking at you again, he realised how badly he was failing. He didn't know what to do. He was fine in situations like these and had never had to comfort anyone. Every solution was running through his mind, not only to get out of here safe and alive but to make sure you knew that.

"Hold my hand," he ordered softly, holding out his hand for you to grab.

"Don't you need to focus on driving?" you questioned, worried. He laughed and lifted his other hand off of the wheel too. When he saw your face he immediately put it back on but kept the other outstretched for you to grab.

You looked at it for a second before grabbing it, interlacing your fingers together, and bringing your hands to rest on top of your thighs. His thumb immediately started traveling back and forth along the back of your hand as you decided to focus on that rather than the road in front of you.

"I promise you I will keep you safe. Nothing bad will happen," he spoke gently. He smiled at you, not that you were looking, but he thought that it might lift the mood anyway. "Trust me," he added, in the softest tone he thought he'd ever spoken with. He shook his head - he was going soft for a girl he's only ever spoken to twice.

You nodded gently, genuinely trusting him for a moment. That all faded when you started hearing sirens in the distance, getting closer and closer.

Max looked through the wing mirrors before speeding up the car even more. You subconsciously squeezed his hand more, gripping it like a vice.

"Okay, pretty girl, I'm going to need my hand back but it's only to keep you safe. I promise I'm going to keep you safe." You didn't believe him but you tried anyway.

You let go of his hand reluctantly, going back to squeezing the seats. You let out a shaky breath and tried to see what was going on behind you. You were on a motorway, going much higher than the speed limit. You could see three police cars in your view, all trying to catch you up.

Max hit the pedal again, speeding up impossibly faster. His eyes were on the road, occasionally on the police behind him and occasionally on you. If he had it his way, they'd be always on you, but he promised to keep you safe and was doing his damn best to keep it.

"We're going faster than their cars can physically go. We'll lose them in no time." He did another once over of you, taking in how petrified you looked once again. "Sitting so tense is going to make you more tense. I don't want you to worry yourself sick."

"Sorry," you mumbled, taking a quick look in the mirrors to see the police much further in the distance than you thought they would be.

"Don't apologise, pretty girl." he spoke, moving the car to the first lane.

He went round a sharp turn, almost heading onto a junction exit but only just missing it. He sped up again, heading around the next corner with flying speed.

"The police will think we just turned off, we'll turn off at the next one." You just nodded, going along with everything. You barely knew the man yet you were on a literal police chase with him.

He slowed the car down to a normal speed, placing his hand back into yours, "see, we're okay."

"We're okay," you repeated, trying to reassure yourself. His thumb was back to tracing lines on the back of your hand and it was helping you more than you'd like to admit.

It wasn't long until you turned off, traveling at a normal speed down some city suburb roads. You headed into an area you'd never seen, full of some of the biggest houses you imagined the city had to offer. You didn't even know where you were going yet you trusted Max blindly.

He parked in front of a huge residence, with all sorts of fancy cars parked in front. You imagined multiple massive families could live there with tonnes of spare space due to the sheer size of the front alone. It was truly extraordinanry.

"Where are we?" You questioned. Max had turned off the car and leaned back in his seat. His hand never left yours, and his thumb never stopped brushing back and forth.

"My home," he spoke, watching your face convey more emotions than he thought was possible. Your mind was racing a mile a minute: what did he want from you? was he kidnapping you? did he want something in return for saving you? You didn't like the thought of what was happening at all but Max read you easily.

"I can drive you back home if you'd prefer. Or take you somewhere, get you a hotel, anything," he spoke sincerely. He fully believed anything you'd want him to do, he would do for you, and he would go to the ends of the world to do it.

"I don't think I can be alone right now." You said, training your eyes onto yours and Max's hand.

"I can take you to a friend's? I can stay with you? I can take you somewhere crowded? Whatever you want me to do, I will do." He said, promising himself he would do whatever you wanted.

It was stupid - so stupid - the way Max had made you feel safe and the fact you wanted to stay by him. Not one thing led to the conclusion that he was a good man yet you still wanted to stay.

"My house is probably over an hour away." You knew Max could drive fast, you knew he could get you there much quicker but you didn't want to leave him. You looked out the window, at his house.

Max saw the way you looked at it, longingly yet worriedly. He didn't want to push you to make a decision, he wanted you to say it himself. He gave you hand a few reassuring squeezes, urging you to say what you felt.

"I want to stay with you," you whispered. You still stared at his house in horror and amusement. Max could see you in the reflection and could feel the worry radiating off you - he wanted nothing more than to make you feel safe.

"Let's go to a hotel." he said, your head immediately flicking back to look at his, "We can get different rooms if you'd like, but if you'd feel more comfortable there, we can go. It's no problem at all."

"Yes please," you nodded, grateful for Max's thinking. The more he was talking, the more comfortable and safe you felt around him. Past you would probably be calling yourself stupid in every way you knew how, but you felt like it'd be okay this time.

He drove off carefully, sticking to all the speed limits, something he rarely did when he was alone. He took you to a nearby hotel, only a ten-minute drive away. It was a lovely-looking hotel, something you'd never check yourself into though when you could just get the classic cheap ones that always worked fine.

"You okay?" Max asked carefully as you peered outside.

"This looks expensive, Max."

God, he loved when you said his name. You hadn't said it a lot but he felt like he could get addicted every time.

He chuckled in amusement, "I've got more money than I could use if I tried, it's on me."

You nodded and opened the car door, unfortunately dropping Max's hand in the process. Not for long though, as Max whipped around the side of the car to grab it again after muttering a small, "let me open it for you next time," to you.

He ordered two separate rooms but made sure they were next to each other and handed you both keys to your room and the spare keys to his, making you promise to let yourself in of you needed anything.

You felt yourself drawn to him, becoming disappointed as he left you to your own room, longing for more. You led in bed, in the same clothes you'd been wearing all day, wanting nothing more than to just be with him again.

You also couldn't stop thinking about the night that passed and how it could've ended much differently. You were reckless and a complete disaster of a person but you didn't think you would change it if you could.

So you left. You got all your belongings and you knocked on Max's room. He opened the door rather quickly, with a sudden look of confusion on his face when he realised it was you.

His hair was messy and stuck up in every direction but he still looked flawless. He had no shirt or pants on, just boxers, and you couldn't help but admire his whole body.

"Are you okay? Just let yourself in next time. What happened?" he asked frantically, worry laced all over his voice.

"Can I stay with you?" You asked nervously, refusing to look at his face.

"Of course, pretty girl," he replied with no hesitation, he would do anything to have you nearby. He stepped aside and welcomed you in, taking everything out of your hands and placing it on a table.

"You take the bed. I can either join you, take the sofa out here or take the chair in the bed room. And here," he said, picking up the shirt he'd changed into after racing, "take this, you can't be comfortable sleeping in that."

You took the shirt with a "thank you," and got changed in the bedroom. The shirt was long enough that you couldn't see anything if you tried, and it was incredibly comfy.

You poked your head out of the bedroom to see Max half asleep with his head in his hands. You gently called his name, his head jolting suddenly towards you.

"Will you stay with me?" you asked, a lot more confidently than before, but still a little shaky.

Max got up with a nod and headed inside the bedroom. He watched you get comfortable in bed and snuggled into the side you hadn't chosen.

You immediately moved towards him, throwing a leg over his, and your head on top of his chest. His arms moved instinctively around you, pulling you impossibly closer. He was so tired but wasn't going to waste an opportunity of staring at you a little longer.

"Sorry the night didn't turn out how you planned," he mumbled, wanting so badly to kiss your forehead but didn't want to overstep boundaries, "and sorry for scaring you."

"It's okay Max," you whispered, turning your head to kiss his chest ever so delicately. He decided to kiss your head in retaliation, smiling all the way through it.

"Tell me if you want to go again and I'll be there," he chuckled against your head, "goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight, Max."

…

this might be my favourite thing i’ve ever written so reblogs and feedback would be really appreciated !! :) also thinking of making this a mini series, thoughts?