#it's kind of just what it says on the tin

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #8692:

Pet peeve: "dead dove" is not a type of content. It's a phrase that means, "this content actually contains what I say it does, take the description seriously". Technically you could use "dead dove" with any kind of fic, even fluff. But most people don't have problems with taking tags seriously for fluff fics, so most people just use it for fics with darker, more disturbing stuff. But PLEASE don't label dark fics "dead dove" under the assumption that's an adequate descriptor. It means nothing re: what kind of content is actually in the fic, because again, it just means "take the tags seriously, it's legitimately what it says on the tin".

[simmerandwrite]

grapefruit sidecar (part 2)

part of the Sink Into Me universe

Pairing: mob boss! Steve Rogers x plus size! reader x mob! Bucky Barnes

Summary: It was just an innocent question. You definitely didn't have any ulterior motives: “Have you ever had a threesome?” But when Steve admits something from his past with Bucky, you can't help but wonder...

Part 1: The Club | Part 2: The Penthouse

Word count: 7k

Warnings: 18+!!! established relationship (Steve x reader), MFM threesome shenanigans, brief flash of minor potential violence, smut (threesome MFM), steve rogers is a menace, subby bucky if you squint...........

Notes: a weekend away means time to plaaaaay hehe some plot here but then mostly just.... well, what's on the tin. it's some self indulgent smut. can't wait to hear what you think!! enjoy!!

---

Boston wasn’t your ideal vacation destination. But for a weekend away from the city? You were happy to accompany Steve. 

He had some big meeting when you arrived Friday evening but Steve promised you an exclusive night at the hotel spa to make up for it. You couldn’t argue with him about that. You were happy with a night of pampering before a few days in bed with him. 

You didn’t ask for details about his meeting - mostly because it was safer not to. Steve claimed it was related to some real estate transactions, but given his quiet conversations with Bucky about the gravity of the closed door meeting, you had a feeling it was something more. 

But, that had been par for the course dating Steve. Despite his lack of interest in the term mob boss you weren’t blind to what Steve did. The blood, guns, bruises, money. You had made enough peace with it. You loved him - and his crew - and never really felt unsafe.

Bucky was joining Steve for the meeting - part of it, at least. Some of it was closed doors just for the heads of each syndicate. That was about all you knew but it was nice to have Bucky nearby, too.

Truthfully, you had been enjoying having Bucky around lately. Not that you’d ever admit it, but he was certainly your favourite of Steve’s close friends. Perhaps that was driven by something else now - after that night you, Bucky and Steve enjoyed together in Steve’s office at the club. 

You were scared to admit that something had changed after that - not necessarily in a bad way, either. But things felt a bit more charged for some reason. Like Bucky looked at you differently.  Things went right back to normal afterwards, though. No one ever brought it up directly. Well, Steve did whisper about it a few times when you were pressed against him in bed. 

But any kind of follow up or ‘next time’ hadn’t occurred and you had decided that if it didn’t happen again, that was okay. 

The hotel in Boston wasn’t the Ritz or the Four Seasons. Perhaps it catered to questionable cash transactions while those high-end corporate ones wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop it from feeling fancy, especially when it came to the spa. Steve had walked you there personally, in his crisp suit, kissing you deeply before saying goodbye. Before departing, he confirmed Bucky would return later to walk you back to the room. Even though you insisted you could make it back on your own, the tense look on Steve’s face wasn’t lost on you.

So yes, of course. Bucky could walk you back. That was fine. Steve was in a closed door, no-phones-allowed meeting, and if it made him feel better to know Bucky was returning you safely to the penthouse suite, you’d indulge him.

Well, before that, you were indulging yourself.

One hot stone massage, restorative facial, steam room visit and manicure later - you were perfectly relaxed and simply floating.

“Everything is taken care of.” The young girl working behind the desk waved you by after you asked for the bill. When you tried to at least offer them a tip, the girl just smiled and shook her head. “Mr. Rogers took care of that, too.”

“Okay. Well.” You smiled back. “Thank you.”

“Have a nice evening, Mrs. Rogers!” 

You swallowed the grin growing on your face as you decided not to correct her about your title and marital status. That… truthfully, that sounded nice. But it wasn’t the time to unpack that just yet. 

You swung your bag over your shoulder then stepped outside the spa doors, quickly scanning for Bucky. He didn’t seem to be there yet, though you had only been able to estimate how long everything would take. Before you even had a chance to reach for your phone, someone was calling your name.

It wasn’t Bucky.

You sucked in a breath as the stranger approached. He was clad in a dark suit jacket, carrying a confidence you were sure wasn’t justified. You had met a lot of people in Steve’s business circle and although you didn’t recognize this man in particular, he had the same energy a lot of those other men did. He reeked of arrogance and a sense of superiority. 

“Can I help you?” You crossed your arms cautiously.

The man offered you a quick smile, though it didn’t change the cold look behind his glasses. “Rogers asked me to escort you to the meeting room.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Right, of course.”

“Shall we then?” He motioned his head down the hall. 

“Honestly, I’m a little insulted that you think I’d just blindly follow you somewhere.” You took a step backward, trying to crane your neck beyond him to see if perhaps Bucky was on his way. You considered, briefly, heading back into the spa but you knew they had already locked up behind you.

You weren't an idiot. Steve would never send a stranger to collect you. That was something he had drilled into your head many times. It led to you always being a bit too suspicious about strangers but you knew it was during moments like this one that your gut feeling was more important than anything.

It had been months now since you last took a self-defense class with Nat and you prayed you wouldn’t have to put any of that into play physically. But the least you could do was plan out an exit strategy. Sure, the hallway was empty and quiet. Screaming could work but may draw the wrong attention. If you could at least get beyond the guy or stall until Bucky was to arrive –

“And I’m insulted that you think you have a choice right now.” The man took a few steps closer to you, crowding you into a corner in the hallway junction, intentionally brushing his suit jacket open to reveal a gun. Unfortunately, you knew if some idiot was trying to use you as a bargaining chip with Steve, your life likely wasn’t in danger at that very moment. But that didn’t make the gun reveal comforting. In fact, your heart rate shot right up.

You just had to keep stalling.

He grabbed your wrist, trying to pull you in his direction. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

You held your breath - very fondly remembering how calm and collected you were minutes ago when your massage ended. What would Natasha do? You held the man’s stare and spoke slowly, “You are making a very bad decision.”

Before he could return some cheeky comment, you heard the sound of a gun cocking. Bucky loomed over him, meeting your eyes across the top of his head. 

“Remove your fucking hand, Wesley.” 

You weren’t exactly sure what came over you, but the moment this man - Wesley - clocked that Bucky was behind him, you sensed him faltering. So, you sprung into action. You dropped your bag to free your opposite hand and immediately grabbed Wesley’s hand that was gripping your wrist. Once you found the weakest finger, you bent it backwards as hard as you could.

Wesley yelped out in pain, cursing as he released your arm. Bucky took over right after, yanking a stumbling Wesley’s collar to get him away from you. In what felt like an instant, Wesley was slammed against the opposite wall as Bucky put himself in front of you instead. 

Bucky turned to look back in your direction, though you replied before he could even ask, “I’m okay. Not hurt.”

He nodded then held up his finger, asking you to wait just a minute. In two strides Bucky was across the hall, delivering a kick to Wesley before he could get up. Bucky crouched down at his side, using his metal hand to grip the base of Wesley’s neck. Bucky leaned in and you couldn’t hear anything he was saying, but you could only guess the list of threats being delivered. Wesley’s face turned white as he absorbed whatever Bucky was promising.

Once Bucky was back to his feet, he picked up your bag from the ground and motioned down the hallway. You didn’t even bother casting another glance towards Wesley, who remained quietly on the floor as you departed. Bucky’s free hand cradled your lower back as you navigated to the elevator, where a swipe of your room key granted you access to the penthouse level of the hotel.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s words came out quietly as soon as the elevator doors closed. “I should have been there sooner.”

“Stop,” you replied with a shake of your head. “I should have just asked them if I could wait inside the spa foyer. It’s not your fault some guy tracked me down.”

“Some dumbass,” Bucky muttered out. “Steve trusted me to–”

“Bucky, come on.” You pivoted, reaching for his closest hand. “I’m fine. Nothing happened. Your timing was perfect. In fact, we should celebrate that I barely froze up and managed to maybe break his finger.”

Bucky grinned in return. “Oh, Stevie is going to be proud. I was impressed, doll.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, thanks. But it’s over now, so don’t dwell, okay? I’m not going to.”

Bucky squeezed your hand before you let go. “Okay. I don’t think I can forget seeing that moron’s hand on you but I’ll try to shake it off.”

For some reason, that reaction coming from Bucky made your heart twist. It was quite endearing, the way he seemed to care for you. It was probably safer not to think too hard about it.

When you got to the top floor, Bucky followed behind as you headed towards the suite. When you arrived with Steve earlier, the room almost felt like too much. No, it was definitely too much. But you decided it was okay to revel in the excess, since it wasn’t something you did often. 

The suite was spacious - your entire apartment would fit in just the sitting room. It had grand floor to ceiling windows across one side of the room, with a large comfy sectional for seating across from a dining table. On the end of the room, a set of French doors separated the sprawling king size bed and primary bathroom. God, you couldn’t wait to curl up next to Steve on that bed.

You flopped down onto the couch once you had dropped down your things. Bucky was lingering near the doorway still. 

“Bucky?” 

He entered further to meet you, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”

“Are you doing anything right now?” You offered him a smile as you reached towards the side table. You lifted up the room service menu. “Hungry?”

---

 “So, how’s your mom doing after everything?” You slid the bowl of fries in Bucky’s direction as you asked. “Also, please feel free to finish these. I’m done.”

Together, you and Bucky had ordered a room service feast. Although Bucky did admit there was a poker game he had been invited to, you were happy to have his company. And from your point of view, it seemed Bucky was having a nice time too. You hadn’t seen him so relaxed and comfortable in a while. You liked that side of him.

Bucky laughed as grabbed the rest of the fries. “Winnie is good. She’s resilient, to a fault. She thinks her doc is crazy for asking her to quit smokin’ but she’s trying.”

“A heart attack is a good kick in the pants, I suppose,” you replied with a shrug. 

“I told her I’d quit too. I think that’s helpin’, like she’s not the only one who has to give it up.”

“Wait, really?” You turned on the couch to look at him. “Bucky, that’s amazing. I know that’s not easy.”

He laughed. “Can’t applaud me yet. It’s only been three weeks.” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket to reveal a tin of mints. “I’m burning through a whole pack of these a day instead.”

“Gotta keep your mouth busy, huh.” You immediately gasped at your own comment, holding your hand to your mouth. “Oh, god, I’m sorry. That’s not what I–”

Bucky was smirking. “You’re not wrong, doll. It’s a bit of an issue.”

You couldn’t risk making any more comments about Bucky’s oral fixation, so you just reached for your glass of wine and returned your eyes to the TV. Bucky had let you pick out a movie, though you had really spent most of the evening just talking to each other. It was…nice. You just really wished Steve was there too. 

There was just something within you that wanted…you wanted them both.. and..

You shook your head, letting your thoughts trail off. Beside you on the couch, Bucky’s phone buzzed.

“Is that Steve?” You glanced over at him.

Bucky rolled his eyes as he looked at his screen. “No. He should be done soon, though.” He sighed, tossing his phone back down beside him. He laughed to himself. “That was Titania. Again.”

“Wait. Are you still seeing her?” You didn’t mean to sound so surprised. Bucky had brought her around a few times - a loud girl who had legally changed her name from Mary to Titania - and you were relieved when Bucky said he cut things off with her. In fact, you had been more than relieved. Something about the way she talked to Bucky, and every other person with a heartbeat nearby, had rubbed you the wrong way. 

“Christ, no.” Bucky was still laughing. “But she seems to be thinking otherwise tonight. I shouldn’t have wasted my little free time on her.”

“I never really liked her.” You placed your wine glass back on the table and leaned back on the couch, looking towards him. “You deserve better. And with the right person, I think you’d find the time. Steve and I make it work.”

Bucky mirrored your position, leaning back the same. He met your eyes. “Steve’s lucky to have you, doll. Really.” He opened his mouth to say something else, then snapped it shut again. 

Before you could pry, there was a sound at the door. Bucky shot up immediately, stalking towards the entrance with his hand hovering at his hip. 

“Jesus, Buck. It’s just me.” Steve’s voice echoed through the suite, mixing in with Bucky’s as they both headed back to the seating area. 

Steve grinned when he saw you, quickly walking over to press a kiss to you over the back of the couch. "Hi sweetheart." After another kiss, he let out a long breath. “God, I’m happy to see you.”

“Me too.”

“How was your night at the spa?” When you hesitated to answer, casting a glance towards Bucky first, Steve jumped back in. “What happened?”

Bucky sighed, heading towards the wet bar across the room. “I’m cracking into this bourbon.” 

You took that as the opportunity to explain what happened with Wesley, which appeared to just piss Steve off. You weren’t surprised by that, of course. But you were hoping to just move past the whole thing. He dropped down on the couch beside you and lifted his hand to cradle your jaw. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I was annoyed more than anything.” You shifted to sit on your knees and kissed Steve again. “Besides, Bucky arrived just in time.”

Bucky sighed from across the room. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there earlier, Stevie. I just–”

“Buck, don’t. My girl is here safe and sound, that’s all that matters.” Steve paused, before looking back at Bucky. You saw Steve’s jaw tick, pausing and saying plenty with his eyes before he spoke. “Did you take care of it?”

Bucky nodded. “Barber sent out his crew. They’ll be waiting at Fisk’s warehouse.”

“Good. Barber owes me.” Steve let out a long breath, leaning against the couch once Bucky delivered him a glass of whiskey. 

Once he himself was empty handed though, Bucky started towards the door. “I’m gonna head out.”

“You don’t have to go, Buck,” Steve said, sipping his drink before relinquishing it to you and your grabby hands. 

You took a gulp and smiled, bouncing as you sat back on your knees. “We can finish the movie.”

Bucky shrugged, though he did return a smile. “I’m alright. You two have a good night.”

The moment Bucky was out the door, before Steve could get up to deadbolt the door behind him, you were straddling Steve’s lap. “Hi.”

“Oh, hi.” Steve grinned, taking back his drink from you and finishing it in one go. He deposited his glass on the closest surface and quickly got his hands on you, moving slowly up your thighs. 

“How was your meeting?”

“Long. Frustrating. Productive. But most importantly, over and done with.” His hands paused on your hips, giving you a gentle squeeze. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I am. I promise.”

He let out a long breath, closing his eyes briefly before locking his gaze on yours. “That idiot outside the spa— can’t say I’m not bothered by it still, sweetheart. Some of the people I have to work with.. Well, they should know better. They shouldn’t be talking to you, let alone tracking down where you are.”

“Would it make you feel better to know I might have broken his finger?”

“Marginally. He never should have touched you.”

“It was just my arm.”

“Doesn’t matter. No one should touch you without your consent - ever.”

“Steve.” You moved your hips slightly, leaning in closer to him. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I’m okay. And I assume Bucky scared the shit out of him, given how the guy seemed to be sinking into the floor when we left. If I hadn’t asked Bucky to hang out, I have a feeling he would have tracked the guy down.”

“I’m glad Bucky was there.” He moved his hands up and down your back. “Did you two have a nice night?”

You scrunched up your face, chewing on your lip. “Uhm, yes.”

“What’s on your mind, baby?” You could see Steve searching your face, his smile growing bigger as he pieced your thoughts together. “You know, all I want is for you to be safe and happy. I’ll give you anything you ask for. You just gotta use your words, my love.” Steve moved your hips against his, holding back a groan. He whispered out your name.

You took a deep breath, bracing your hands on Steve’s shoulders. “I was just thinking. Well, maybe we should have invited Bucky to stay? We could all, uh, have a cocktail.. A sidecar? Could we.. ask him to come back?”

It didn’t seem possible for Steve’s grin to grow even more, but somehow it did. “Oh, yes. Yes we can.”

“Not that..” You froze momentarily, blinking away a ruffle of thoughts. “I’m happy to see you and I’d be more than content with us just –”

Steve cut you off with a kiss. “I know, sweetheart. But I would be lying if I said I haven’t thought about that night in my office and what other fun things we could do together. The three of us.”

“You’ve been thinking about it?” You couldn’t help giggling as Steve winked at you, reaching for his phone. 

While he called Bucky, you leaned in to press your lips against his neck. 

“Buck.. Yeah, no - everything’s okay… No emergency. Not sure how far you got - just wanted to invite you back for a nightcap.. Maybe for a grapefruit–.. Yes, exactly… She’s the one who suggested it, actually.” Steve paused to laugh. “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. Okay. We’ll see you soon.”

---

You and Steve made out for approximately two minutes after his phone call to Bucky ended. Then Steve pressed pause and did a quick check in with you. To make sure you were okay with everything, reminding you that the three of you would only proceed with what you were comfortable with. Although you really wanted to throw yourself all over him, you appreciated Steve’s attentiveness. 

“As much as you want me to be in charge,” Steve grabbed your hands and looked at you directly. “You are in charge. Don’t forget that. You’re calling the shots and if you want to stop, that’s it.”

“I know.”

“Can I hear you say it?”

“If I want to stop, it’s over. I decide.”

“Thank you.” Steve leaned in and pressed a kiss to your lips. “Now why don’t you go get ready while I wait for Bucky.” He growled against your skin as he pulled away. There was some underlying carnal energy within Steve that spilled out unexpectedly sometimes and god, you really loved it. 

To resist pacing around and letting insecurities creep in, you changed into a set of silk pajamas - a lacy tank top and shorts set you really loved. It made you feel both sexy and comfortable and you really needed that to calm your nerves.

You stood near the windows, watching over the lights across the Boston cityscape. Soon enough, you could hear Steve and Bucky’s voices. They were laughing about something and it quickly put you at ease. 

The doors pushed open and you couldn’t stop your heart from fluttering when Steve and Bucky walked in.

Steve, who was undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and smiling at you. Bucky was swallowing his own smile too, his tongue gliding across his lips as he met your eyes.

“Hi,” you squeaked out, nodding to Steve as he walked towards you. He discarded his suit jacket and grabbed your hand, pulling you away from the windows and closer towards the bed. He pressed a soft, deep kiss to your lips before slowly turning you around. Steve wrapped his arms around your waist, your back against his chest.

“Hi,” Bucky echoed back. He stopped just in front of you, pinning you with a soft stare. “Don’t you look nice, doll.”

“Thanks Bucky.” You reached your arm out, inside his jacket. Your hand brushed across his chest and you could swear you felt him holding his breath. Quickly you dipped into his inside pocket and found the tin of breath mints. “Can I have one?”

Bucky nodded. “Of course.”

You rattled the container and took one of the mints out, then very slowly placed it on your tongue.

It wasn’t lost on you the way Bucky’s eyes dropped to your mouth.

After a few beats, you turned your head to twist and look at Steve. “Stevie?” You repeated your slow movement, this time giving a mint to Steve instead. Steve closed his mouth around your finger after and you couldn’t help but giggle again.

“Christ, you two are going to kill me,” Bucky muttered out, dragging a hand down his jaw.

“Bucky?” You offered the tin of mints to him again and he shook his head. 

“There’s other things that’ll keep my mouth busy, I’m sure.”

You saw Bucky’s eyes flick to Steve’s briefly, then they were on you. 

Steve made his move first, practically growling as moved his hands up your body. Almost immediately his lips were soaring across your shoulders and neck, hands slipping under your tank top.

Bucky, though, stepped forward and extended his hand out to cradle your jaw. With one shift, his hand was gripping the side of your neck as he brought himself closer.

You were staring right at his lips now. Your eyes flicked up to meet his.

Bucky whispered out your name. “Is this okay? Can I touch you? Kiss you?”

You were already breathless from the way Steve was all over you, so you made a point to nod very clearly. “Yes.” Steve’s lips found the other side of your neck as you spoke. “Yes, anywhere.”

Bucky’s hand remained clamped on your neck as he grinned. He lead with his lips, crashing into yours with a fervour you hadn’t been prepared for. The impact nearly knocked you off your feet, but Steve kept his hands on your waist to steady you.

Bucky and Steve both caressed every inch of your exposed skin as their lips explored all over you. Your senses had never been so overwhelmed - the dim lights of the room seemed to heighten every touch, every whisper and moan, the mixture of their cologne and hints of whiskey and cigars. 

Soon enough, Steve was easing you down to lay on the bed. Bucky pulled back, tearing at the buttons of his own shirt. 

“Baby,” Steve spoke softly as you laid against one of the pillows. He kneeled at your side, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses along your neck. He tugged down the straps of your tank top, hands sliding over your soft skin as he massaged your breasts. 

You couldn’t hold back the moan of pleasure washing over you from his touch. 

“Baby..” He started again, biting back a smirk as he locked eyes with you. “I think Bucky wants to put his mouth to use. How does that sound?”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, moving your eyes from Steve back towards Bucky. Bucky, who was biting down on one of his knuckles as he stared back at you. “That sounds.. I’d really like that. It sounds nice.” Nice? You couldn’t manage to think of any other adjective but at least it made Bucky grin.

“Honey, I promise you a lot more than nice,” Bucky said as he stretched his neck, crawling onto the bed up towards you.

You and Steve both shifted slightly, slipping off your tank top as you adjusted. Steve leaned back against the headboard and you laid back against him, giving you a perfect angle to watch Bucky position himself between your legs.  

Bucky’s hands glided up and across your skin, applying bursts of pressure to massage your muscles as he kissed your inner thighs. You reached down to your waistband, but Bucky didn’t even bother waiting - he got there first, tugging your shorts down. You held your breath as you maneuvered them off, suddenly frozen as you realized you were… exposed, completely. 

You were splayed out on the bed, between these two powerful, sexy men and were you - did Bucky even want this - was this whole idea absolutely–

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathed out, mouth agape. “God, you’re gorgeous. And already so wet, huh. Just for me and Stevie?” 

Your flurry of uncertain thoughts immediately disappeared as Bucky’s mouth got to work - like an electric shock as his tongue licked up and down your already damp center, sending a jolt through you as he circled your clit. 

Oh, yeah. Yeah. He wanted it. And god you were grateful.

You collapsed back against Steve, who had the audacity to chuckle at your reaction. Before you could try to sass him, his hands and lips were moving again. He kissed against your jaw and neck, as his hands gripped and pulled at your nipples. Each twist added another shock to your system, a joyful pairing with Bucky’s actions between your thighs.

You reached down and tangled your hands in Bucky’s hair, pulling against his tresses as his tongue worked overtime. 

“Oh, fuck. Oh god, I’m going to–” You were approaching a climax already, hips bucking upwards. Bucky took this as an opportunity to grip the underside of your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to lash against you with his tongue. 

“Just let go, baby,” Steve cheered you on as you quivered in his arms, shaking through the orgasm that flooded through every inch of you. “Take everything you need tonight.”

You stretched out and gripped the sheets as Bucky carried on, neglecting to even come up from air as he continued. A gasp escaped you as you felt one of his metal fingers against your entrance, pushing into you slowly as he continued his mouthwork.

Steve very gently moved you over onto a pillow again as he stood, meeting your lips again before he disappeared into the bathroom. Though you tried to, it was hard to even think about what Steve was doing while Bucky continued his handiwork. 

Though Bucky’s tongue had slowed down, his fingers were taking charge now - sliding in and out of you, crooked upwards at just the right angle to make you sing even louder. You gasped as another orgasm approached, once again pushing yourself up on your elbows to watch Bucky. God, what a sexy picture it was - Bucky working hard between your legs as his own hips were grinding against the bed, seemingly searching for any kind of friction he could get. 

Your focus was short lived though, as Bucky sped up again and waves of pleasure rolled through you once more. You twitched through the aftershocks, eyes tightly closed as you fell into the pillows. 

“Bucky..” Your chest heaved as you came down, heart thumping in your chest. You barely noticed Bucky’s mouth pull back and then you heard it - a few clicks followed by a buzzing noise. 

You opened your eyes and lifted your head, finding Steve standing at the end of the bed beside Bucky. And in Steve’s hands was one of your vibrator’s - a small, little bullet style vibe that you sometimes slip in with your bathroom items when you’re staying at Steve’s. And that devil of a man had taken it upon himself to grab it.

“You’re a menace,” you whispered out, though you couldn’t hide the smirk on your face. 

Steve, who had stripped down to just his boxers, shot you a wily grin. He tossed the vibrator onto the bed, within your reach. “My turn..” 

Bucky sat up, winking at you before he moved off the bed. He started to remove the rest of his clothes before he crawled up beside you, leaning back against the headboard, cock hard in his hand. 

Steve peeled his boxers off, tugging on your ankles to bring you closer to him as he stood at the end of the bed. Fuck - where were you supposed to even look? Ahead of you, where Steve was spitting into his hand before stroking his cock, getting ready to split you in half. Or to your side, where Bucky was salivating and touching himself as he watched you and Steve.

“Baby.” Steve’s voice grabbed your attention. “Looks like Bucky got you all ready for me..” He kneeled onto the bed and slowly rubbed his cock against you, sucking in a hard breath at the feeling. 

You let out a low moan at the feeling, pushing your hips upwards in a desperate attempt for more friction. “Stevie, please. I need you.”

Steve chuckled, wetting his thumb in his mouth before reaching down and circling it against your clit. “I need you too, sweetheart. All night in that dumb fuckin’ meeting - you bet I was thinking about you, how sweet you’d feel.” He gripped himself again and lined against your entrance, pushing in with a hard thrust.

Fuck. Every single time - Steve felt incredible, as if he was designed for you. And he could read you like a book, as if you were something he memorized a long time ago and knew front to back. He always seemed to know just what you needed and when. This particular instance wasn’t any different.

Steve laid his hard body on top of yours, once again crushing his lips against yours as his hips rutted into you. It was hard, fast, and possessive, especially as Steve started to practically growl into your neck.

He slowed down briefly as he adjusted, returning to just his knees. He held your thighs up, bracing himself and changing the angle of your hips. To a position right where–

“Oh, fuuuuck,” you whined, once again grasping at the bedsheets.

“Jesus, you know just how to make her sing, Steve,” Bucky added in. “It’s incredible.”

“Wanna help me out?” Steve didn’t let up his pace as he pointed at the small vibrator, nestled against the swath of pillows.

Bucky grinned, nodding happily as he moved towards you on the bed. He grabbed the toy with one hand, kneeling at your side. The other continued to grip his cock, slow and steady. 

You looked up towards Bucky, catching his smirk as he knelt at your side. You bit your lip, stifling your moans as Steve continued his steady thrusts. 

Bucky clicked the toy on, cycling through the different settings before he brought it down against your skin. Slowly, he dragged it across your chest, your nipples, your soft stomach. 

You took in a breath, reaching your hand out to grab his. Then, you helped him position it right where—

“Fuck, fuck—” You shrieked as the vibrations met your clit, involuntary clenching at the electric sensation. “Right-ri-ght there. Please. Don’t stop.” You heard Steve laughing. Menace.

Bucky didn’t relent though, neither of them did. As Steve drilled into you, Bucky swirled the toy around your center - changing the pulses and pressures as he listened to your reactions. 

As you felt another climax coming, Bucky pulled the toy away and leaned down to bring his mouth to yours. “You’re gorgeous, doll.” He bit at your lip. “So fucking sexy. I want to see you come again - show me.”

It wasn’t a command per se, you had free will. But the minute Bucky returned those vibrations to your clit, you were done for. It wasn’t even your own decision, your body ricocheted through the waves as you quivered. Your thighs tensed up under Steve’s hands as he stilled his movements, steady and hard inside you. 

As Bucky pulled away, turning off the toy, you caught your breath. 

Steve squeezed your ankle, asking for your attention. “Baby, are you okay? Do you want to stop or take a break?” 

You couldn’t help but grin. Christ, Steve was buried in you and Bucky was hard at your side. Despite that, you knew you could call it now if you were getting tired. But you really, really didn’t want to.

A smile crawled onto your face as you met Steve’s gaze. “I’m okay, really. I’m.. I want more.”

Steve smirked, sliding his tongue across his lips. He held eye contact with you for another moment before he looked at Bucky instead. “You got a condom?”

Bucky immediately nodded, but turned his attention to you before he moved. You bit your lip and nodded before he could get his question out. And when his face lit up, you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

Moments later, Steve was the one sitting back against the headboard. You had flipped over onto your hands and knees, crawling up to meet him for a kiss while Bucky retrieved a condom from his wallet. Steve groaned into your mouth as you took his length in your hands, still slick and glistening with evidence of you.

“I gotta be totally honest here,” Bucky said from behind you, dealing with the packaging. “Steve, when you called - I barely.. I barely made it back to my room, already had to fucking rub one out thinking about..”

You sat up on your knees, still lazily stroking Steve as you looked back to Bucky. “Thinking about me?”

Bucky was grinning again. “Uh huh. You. Stevie. You and Stevie, doll. Dreaming about feeling you again - feeling this..” He knelt onto the bed, reaching for your hips to pull you back to him. “Thank god I did though - don’t wanna blow it too soon now..”

You just laughed again, wiggling your ass as Bucky positioned himself behind you. Steve reached for you too, pulling you down to brace yourself on his thighs. 

Steve gripped your cheek in his hand, meeting your eyes as Bucky started to press in. It was a feeling you never thought you’d experience and words to describe it fell away. The special, satisfying awe that consumed Steve’s face as Bucky thrusted into you was something else. 

“Baby,” Steve said with a coy smile. “That feel good?”

You couldn’t even formulate a response. Good wasn’t the right descriptor but it was so good. It felt right and wrong and hot and so fucking good. 

All you could manage to do is smile, gripping Steve’s legs as Bucky moved against you. 

“Cause if it’s not good enough, baby.. we can put Bucky in a timeout. Make him watch instead.”

“Rogers, you motherfucker,” Bucky bit back with a laugh. “You know I’ll take care of your girl.” He still for a moment then, releasing a hand from your hip to lean forward. He kissed your lower back gently, snaking his hand underneath your body to find your clit as he shifted his hips. “I’ll always take care of her.”

A moan escaped you. Steve brushed his hand across your forehead. “You’re doing so well, love. Look at you.”

That made you melt, smiling even bigger as you looked back up at Steve. Then, well, you got to work, too. 

Collapsing one hand, you leaned in and grabbed Steve’s cock. It was hot and velvety against your skin. You took it in your mouth next, sinking down to take as much as you could without losing all your breath.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve released his own moan, immediately grabbing the sides of your face to guide you. “That’s it. Jesus Christ. This is quite the view, baby.” 

Behind you, Bucky seemed to hum in agreement. His hand worked against your clit to bring you over the edge once more, before retreating to slap your ass cheeks with a warm palm. 

“This fucking ass, honey. It’s a gift.” 

It all felt like a whirlwind, a dream sequence you could live in forever. Ahead of you, Steve was peppering you with praise as you took care of him. You were sloppy and messy and hungry, alternating between your hands and mouth. If Steve wanted to be a menace, you’d repay him the same. 

And behind you, Bucky treated his actions with intention. Like a strategy for ensuring you both enjoyed yourselves as long as possible. He was steady and firm, showering you with compliments as he fucked you. 

All three of you escaped into ecstasy, chasing your good feelings together. 

“Christ, I’m going to - hold on, hold on,” Bucky slowed down, in an attempt to edge himself instead of going over the edge. 

You pulled your mouth from Steve with a pop, sitting up on your knees to look back at Bucky. 

“Come up here,” you reached for his hand, motioning for him to sit up at the top of the bed beside Steve. “Let me do some work.”

“Not gonna argue with that, doll,” he replied, winking before he moved onto the bed. 

Steve was laughing again, crossing his arms behind his head while you moved to straddle Bucky. “I like this view, too. Don’t hold back, baby.” 

You made a point to lean over and press a kiss to Steve, before doing the exact same to Bucky, too. Then you lined him up and sunk down, letting out a string of curse words as you got used to the new position. 

Steve was always plenty and you loved how it felt to ride him. And now, you couldn’t help but be curious how Bucky would compare. 

“Oh-ohh my god,” you said quietly, slowly rocking your hips. “Yes, this is.. fuck.” You leaned forward once more, crashing your lips against Bucky’s as you continued to move. He let you control the pace, both hands cradling your jaw as you fought his tongue. 

When you paused, clenching all your muscles, Bucky seemed to shake. “Honey.. that’s.. you’re amazing. Fuck, you feel so good.” You kissed him again and pulled back, stretching your arms up. “You’re fucking beautiful. Look at you.” He stroked his hands against your thighs, up across your stomach, each hand landing on a breast as he twisted your nipples between his fingers.

Steve made a move from his seat, once again reaching for your vibrator. He clicked it on and brought it to the apex of your thighs, holding it against your clit as you moved up and down on Bucky. 

“Oh my god,” Bucky said through gritted teeth. 

Steve shot him a smirk. “Think you can hold out?”

“You are a fuckin’ menace,” Bucky barked back, leaning back even further into the pillows behind him. He called out your name. “Why do you put him with him?”

You sucked in a deep breath as Steve increased the speed of the vibrator. “He’s good with his hands… mouth.. dick. He’ll make me come a dozen times before he gets off..” 

“The list goes on,” Steve finished for you, reaching an arm out to brace you before you collapsed through another climax. He gently laid you back down against Bucky, then Steve moved behind you again. “You stay right there, baby.” 

With a quick lift of your hips, Bucky slid out from you and Steve was quick to slide in. You pressed against Bucky’s check, kissing against his neck and jaw as Steve pulsed into you. 

“So fucking sexy,” Bucky whispered out against your jaw. 

“Do you like this, sweetheart? Being between us?” Steve’s hands felt like a vice on your hips, holding on for dear life as he worked into you. “What if you had both of us? At the same time?”

Steve laughed as he felt you react, squeezing him as he was sheathed inside. 

“Not today. Not yet.. but fuck, imagine we both could fill you up. What do you think, Buck?” Steve stopped himself and shifted. 

Christ, they were changing places again. Steve eased you right back onto Bucky, who happily picked up his pace. 

“Shit. I’d love that.” They continued like this, talking filthy desires as they took turns with you. All you could do was lay against Bucky’s chest, relaxing into the pace as they fucked you. 

Before he tagged in again, Steve gently moved you from Bucky and got you onto your back again. “I’m gonna blow, sweetheart. I wanna fill you up.” 

Once Steve was inside you again, he leaned down and pressed his chest to yours. You hooked your legs around him, melting away as he groaned out your name. With a few final hard thrusts he was grunting, growling as he reached his peak. 

Catching his breath, he slowly raised himself back up, dragging his cock from you. 

You caught your breath, eyes closed as you clutched the sheets. When you opened them, Steve was staring down in awe as the evidence leaked out of you. 

Bucky knelt beside you, aggressively pulling at his condom before removing it and stroking his cock. 

You extended your legs open a bit wider, inviting him towards you. He shuffled ahead with a smile, very easily hitting his own orgasm as he spilled out and came over your mound. 

You let out a happy sigh, running your fingers through it and down into your folds. You managed to quiver at even that touch, falling back onto the bed as you let all your muscles relax. 

It was hard to believe all that had just happened. You stayed laying on the bed, lost in a blissful daze. Maybe they had both kissed you again, you recalled Bucky saying thank you even. Actually, you weren’t even sure if Steve and Bucky were still there beside you - though Steve did quickly bring you back down to earth when he joined you on the bed again, cleaning you up with a warm cloth. 

You knew you should go to the bathroom and clean up, but you were resistant to pop the bubble. This has been an unexpected sensual experience - connecting with both Steve and Bucky in a way you hadn’t anticipated. You had like all of it - no, you loved it. 

The soft touches, the consideration, the attentiveness, the very obvious shared goal of making sure you were having the best experience. 

You couldn’t predict if this would change anything. Well, no. Things had certainly changed - once you did this with another person, you couldn’t go back. But knowing that this entire thing happened with Bucky, it warmed a new part of your heart. 

The fact that even now, only minutes after both Steve and Bucky had been inside you, they were shooting the shit and Bucky was pouring another round of whiskey, you knew things wouldn’t be different in a bad way. 

It was, perhaps, something really, really good instead. 

Following a long hot shower and another late night round of room service with the boys, you were ready for bed - to sleep. You surprised yourself staying up even a bit later given you were properly tuckered out after your bedroom activities. 

Judging by Steve’s yawns, he was following behind you. 

While you and Steve got up off the couch, Bucky hesitated. Before he could say anything, you glanced at Steve for confirmation before looking at Bucky. 

You searched Bucky’s face for a moment, to see if you were all on the same page. Then, you smiled. “I think you should just crash here, Buck. It’s a big bed.” 

A slow grin appeared on Bucky’s face, too. He looked at Steve then back to you. “You sure?”

“Of course, punk.” Steve rolled his neck then grabbed your hand. “Watch out for drool from this one, though.”

You just giggled and extended your free hand out to Bucky. “And fair warning, Steve is a furnace.”

“Oh, I know, doll. Not the first time I’ve shared a bed with the idiot.”

You smiled even wider. “Oh, really? And who is usually the big spoon?” 

Steve just laughed. “I guess you’re about to find out, baby.”

---

FIN. that's all for now folks, thank you for reading!!!

(tbh, I can see a part 3 to this but not anytime soon!)

[witheredwritings]

Blooming Rot

previous part <- -> next part

Summary: In an AU where joel never met Ellie, he shows up one day to his brother’s town, unannounced, unwanted. Though he keeps to himself, you seem to have caught his attention.

Word count: 2.9K

Warnings: Blood, gunviolence, stalking, creepy!joel, kidnapping, stalker!joel, AU!joel, age gap (reader is in her early 20s and joel in his late 50s)

A/N: No, Joel will not get sane. Yes, the reader is slowly becoming a replica of the freak that Joel is in this. Dinner is served x

He left you alone.

Not freedom—just absence. A permission wrapped in silence. Joel had sent you to the bathroom with an empty pack and a nod that felt too heavy to carry. Told you there were things in there you might want—might need—and said it without looking at you. His voice was low, almost gentle. He hadn’t looked at you when he said it. Just stood with his back turned, one hand gripping the door frame like it hurt to let go.

Like he was trying to make mercy look like distance.

Inside the small room, the air is stale. The kind of stillness that clings to corners after something’s died there. You don’t breathe too deep.

It’s there that you make your first real mistake.

The mirror is fractured—cracked like old teeth—and your reflection spills out in pieces. You catch yourself only in shards: the bloom of a bruise beneath your jaw, blood dried in a trail from temple to cheek, and your eyes—

Too wide. Too dark. Too gone.

Not your eyes. Not anymore.

What stares back is something emptied out. Hollowed. A marionette with the strings torn loose and her face still painted sweet. A shell in a girl’s shape.

And then the cabinet.

The shelves inside are lined. Careful. Clean. Toothbrushes still in their packaging. A razor. Pads and tampons sealed tight in Ziploc. As if waiting.

As if meant.

Joel hadn’t found these here. You know that.

He’d brought them.

He'd stolen them. From Jackson. From Maria, likely.

Your gut turns, sharp and sour. You sink down onto the toilet seat, hands trembling on your knees. You want to throw up. Or scream. Or claw at something until it breaks.

And that’s when you see it.

The window.

Not quite sealed. Nailed, yes—but loose in the frame. One corner shifts if you push just right. It’s small. But you’ll fit. You'd make it work.

You don’t think. You move.

As you walk up to it, you shove your shoulders against the frame, slowly trying to open it. It was small, but not impossible to think you could fit through and escape this place.

Hands wedge against the frame, arms braced. The cold hits your face and it tastes like freedom, bitter and thin. You grunt, push, drag yourself through—but the wood groans beneath your weight, and before you can even lift your legs—

He’s behind you.

No sound. No warning. Just there.

One arm catches your waist, the other braces your wrist, too tight. You twist, push, shove—but the world tilts and suddenly you’re on the floor, gasping.

Pain lashes through you—sharp, twisting. The bandages tear open, and blood slithers out slow, curling across the gauze like a snake waking in the cold. It coils red against the white, deliberate and mean.

Your scream is ragged. Pain and rage and shame braided into one torn sound.

Joel kneels. Not over you. Beside you. Quiet.

“I told you it was safer here,” he says. Not shouting. Not angry. Just… tired.

Resigned.

He doesn’t touch you now.

Just looks at the blood.

“Look what you did.”

He says it like you did it to yourself.

He takes you back into the main room. Shirt gone, chest half-wrapped in a bloodstained towel. Your arms tremble from the cold—or maybe something colder. Joel crouches in front of you, dragging the first aid tin open with reverent fingers, like he’s handling the last relic from a ruined chapel. He pulls gauze from its curled ribbon like it means something.

Like it’ll fix what’s already rotting.

He pours moonshine into the bowl, the harsh scent thick and bitter in your throat. The fabric soaks in it, limp and heavy between the rough pads of his fingers.

Then—he just sits there.

Staring at the wound like it’s mocking him. Like it speaks for you.

You want to scream. You want to claw at his face, rip into his quiet like it might bleed. You want to make him look at what he did.

But your body won’t obey.

When he touches you, it’s with unnatural care. Like he’s afraid you’ll shatter under him. Like you already have.

The burn hits slow, then sears deep. You flinch, hiss through your teeth. Joel’s hand clamps gently but firmly over your shoulder. “I ain’t gonna hurt you more,” he mutters.

It sounds like a lie he’s told before.

You hate how delicate he is. How his hands, capable of breaking bones and splitting skulls, move like he’s threading a needle. How he won’t meet your eyes, as if you’re too bright or too ruined.

It’s worse than cruelty.

It’s pity.

You’re frozen. Hollow.

"You did this to me," you whisper, voice raw with pain. I lose a shaky breath, fingers digging into the dusty couch cushions.

"You say you care—but how do you hurt someone you care about? Do you get off on shooting those you care about? Does it make you feel righteous?"

It doesn’t land the way you hope. The pain drains your voice, leeches the venom. The sting in your side steals your breath and with it, your rage.

I look down to his kneeling form. Watch how his face twitches and his eyes become troubled. Something bothers him. His grip on my arms became more rigid, fixed.

“We're heading to Idaho,” he says finally, voice low, gravel thick with something that might be regret or just memory. “Small town there, Swan Valley. ’Bout sixty-five miles west. Empty. Safe.”

He shifts his weight, knees creaking like old timber, but doesn’t stand. Doesn’t leave.

You listen to the sounds around you instead. The low creak of his boots against the floor. The scrape of fabric. His breath.

“We walk fifteen miles today,” he continues, quieter now. “Snake River Canyon. We’ll rest near the ridge.”

"...Why are you telling me?" you murmur. "I could run."

He looks at you for this time.

"You can try." His voice flattens. “But you won’t last long. You’re safer with me. You're better off with me. That’s just the truth.”

His voice has an edge to it, like the burden of his choices is being grounded into the rumble of his voice. His grip stays tight—just tight enough to remind you he could make it worse. Just tight enough to remind himself he hasn’t let go.

Still, when he’s done, you’re bandaged tighter. Cleaner. Warmer.

When he’s done, the bandages are tighter. Cleaner. You can feel your blood staying where it’s supposed to.

He stands, back turned. Like that means anything.

“Put your shirt on,” Joel mutters.

And you do.

Slowly. Fingers stiff. Mind numb.

Like a dog trained to heel.

The road west is bone-white with dust. Asphalt cracked and buckled, like the earth itself has been trying to tear free of what humanity left behind.

Fifteen miles. That’s what he told you. What he promised.

A day’s hike, he said.

What he meant was suffering.

Joel watches you limp across broken gravel, one arm still wrapped tight against your ribs. He keeps close, too close—his shadow swallowing yours up whole. Your boots are too big, a pair he scavenged from a dead man’s truck. The laces flap like tongues. You haven’t spoken since the shed.

But you haven’t tried to run, either.

That’s something.

He thinks about this morning. The quiet way your eyes didn’t meet his as you buttoned your shirt. The way your skin flinched under his hands while he cleaned the wound again. So careful. Too careful.

There was a moment—brief, ridiculous—where Joel thought you might have looked at him like he was human.

He tells himself it was guilt. That’s all. Remorse twisting his gut into something like love.

But the truth is meaner: it’s because your skin felt warm under his fingers. Because when you hissed in pain, he felt something ancient rise in his throat. Not pity. Not even shame.

Possession.

He pushes the thought away like smoke in his eyes.

By midafternoon, the road curves through the corpse of a collapsed gas station. Highway 26 stretches long ahead, a line of sun-bleached cars and rust-choked semis. Joel glances at the horizon—nothing. Still.

Too still.

He carves a path ahead of you like he’s done it a hundred times—through the rustbone skeletons of cars, the ivy-strangled bones of the old world. Every step he takes is certain, deliberate. He moves like a man made for this ending. Like he was waiting for it all along.

You trail behind him in silence, eyes tracing the loaded stillness in his shoulders, the way his boots land without hesitation. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look back to see if you’re following. He doesn’t need to.

This is his domain. Ruin. Collapse. The death of things.

You move like a ghost behind him, quieter now. Watching.

And then, abruptly, he halts. One foot on a crushed bumper, body gone still as stone. He tilts his head—not to listen, but to scent. Chin raised like a hound in thick woods.

He confuses you. Everything about him is contradiction: brute and caretaker, executioner and guide.

Then it hits.

The stench.

Sour. Metallic. Copper under the tongue. And something else—something sweeter, wronger. Like fruit left too long in the heat.

Rot blooming open.

He doesn’t turn to you, but you already know. They’re near.

And something in him is waking up to meet them.

Not a second later, you hear it shriek. Something between a scream and a howl, bone-dry and furious. You don’t even have time to speak. They're already coming.

They pour from the ruins of the diner across the street—four, six, nine of them. One missing half a jaw. One dragging its entrails like a wedding veil. One with a child’s shirt stretched over its bloated, man-shaped form.

You freeze. He sees it in your eyes.

Joel doesn’t.

Then chaos swallows you.

He moves first. Quicker than you’ve ever seen. Not like a man—like something torn loose from restraint, all sharp edge and intention. One shot cracks through the air, and the first infected drops like a puppet with its strings cut.

But the others keep coming.

You stumble back instinctively, ribs screaming with every jolt of movement. The pain knocks the air from your lungs, but you don’t get time to cry out. Joel’s already dropped the rifle. The machete flashes in his grip, gleaming wet.

He doesn’t fight clean.

He doesn’t fight like someone trying to survive.

He fights like someone trying to erase the world.

You watch the blade bury in one skull, then rip free with a wet snap. The body folds. Another infected lunges from the side—you don’t even see it until it’s too close. You flinch, too slow, but Joel’s there. His boot shatters its knee backwards and the machete takes its jaw clean off.

Blood hits your face.

You gasp. Choke. Stumble. The cars around you blur—windows flashing sun and shadow, broken glass underfoot.

Something grabs your arm.

You scream, flailing weakly, but your body won’t hold you up. You hit the ground hard, head swimming. Another infected barrels toward you, shrieking, face split by fungal rot.

Then Joel is there again—behind it, not in front.

He grabs a handful of its hair and slams its face into the fender of an old truck.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Until there’s nothing left but wet noise.

You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

Everything rings.

Joel stands over what used to be a man, panting, the machete dripping gore like it’s crying. His shirt clings to him with blood and sweat. His jaw is clenched, eyes scanning, wild, animal.

He turns toward you, panting, chest rising like a man possessed.

Not rushing—just watching.

Like checking if you're still real. Still breathing.

The sun glints off the wet edge of the blade.

He looks like something made for this. Not a protector. A punishment.

And yet—

You don’t back away.

You look at him. Really look at him. His eyes are blown wide, but not wild. His hands twitch, but they’re not reaching for you.

Something shifts. In you. In him.

Not safety.

Something worse.

You’re not as afraid now.

Joel sees it. Feels it like a heat in his ribs.

You’re watching him not like prey anymore—but something else. Something new. Something confused and dark and dangerous.

You stand still as he wipes blood from his face with a trembling hand.

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t say what he’s thinking.

But the thought is there.

Whatever’s left of you, it’s his now. And whatever’s left of him— He’ll give it.

Even the rot. Especially the rot.

The Snake river murmurs beside you like it’s trying to forget something.

It’s late. You reached your destination for today without any other suprises after the previous infected attack.

The trees lean in overhead, black silhouettes with fingers for branches, and the moon cuts its way through the dark like a knife. Smoke curls from the fire Joel built, thick and fragrant, clinging to your clothes like grief. The rabbit he caught hisses in the pan, skin crisping, flesh pale and steaming. He doesn’t speak as he cooks—just watches the flames. Always watching something.

You sit across from him, legs curled under you, your bandaged side aching with every shift. The ache reminds you you’re still here. That you're still his.

He offers you the first bite. You take it.

Warmth spreads in your belly. It feels strange, to be fed like this. Not just handed food. Fed. Looked after. It unsettles more than it soothes.

You swallow, then ask, quiet, “That thing you did. Back on the road.”

He doesn’t lift his head.

“The way you… fought.”

Joel chews, slow. He doesn’t answer right away. His eyes are on the fire, reflecting back red.

You keep going. You don’t know why. Maybe it’s the firelight, maybe it’s the fatigue. Maybe it’s the twisted thread tightening between you, pulled taut since that first shot. “I’ve never seen someone kill like that.”

He finally looks at you, and it’s like being seen through. Like you’re a pane of glass and he’s measuring the cracks.

“I’ve had practice,” he says.

“That’s not what I meant.” You shift closer, slowly. Testing the heat of him. “You weren’t scared.”

Joel doesn’t blink. “Didn’t have time to be.”

“Is that who you are?” you whisper. “The man with the machete?”

He’s silent.

But his hand flexes near his boot, where the weapon lies clean now, wiped and resheathed. Reverent, almost. Like it’s earned a rest.

“No one in Jackson knew anything about you,” you murmur. “Not really. Tommy talked like you were a shadow. Even he didn’t know where you’d been.”

Joel lifts his eyes again. “And now you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want.”

That’s true. You don’t. But you know you’re colder when he’s not near. You know his violence didn’t frighten you—not really. Not after he stood between you and those things like it meant something.

He thinks you’re bending.

That the blood softened you. Cracked you just enough for something else to leak in. He watches you differently now, like he’s waiting for the moment your mouth stops curling in defiance. Waiting for the shift. Like it’s inevitable.

Maybe it is.

Maybe it’s already happened.

You stare at him across the fire, and for one sick second, you can’t remember what it felt like to hate him without question. That fury—bright and raw and righteous—now sits dulled in your chest, like a weapon you no longer remember how to wield.

He shifts, just barely. A small thing. But it makes your stomach turn.

His voice is sandpaper when he speaks. “Thought if I kept quiet long enough, you’d never ask.”

Your throat tightens. “Ask what?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes. His gaze drips down to the fire, where the flames chew on a blackened log. “Because if you knew who I was, you wouldn’t be here.”

Something in your chest twists.

You should scream at him. You should run. You should throw the half-eaten rabbit into the dirt and claw your way back to Jackson with your bare goddamn hands. But your legs won’t move. Your arms are dead weight. And the words just… don’t come.

You look at him—really look—and he seems smaller. Not physically. Something else. Like a man hollowed out from the inside and walking around wearing his own skin like a disguise.

You should be afraid. And you are.

But not of him.

Of you.

“I am here,” you whisper, slow. “You brought me here.”

His head tips just slightly, like he heard something in your voice he didn’t expect. Like a crack spreading through ice. His face doesn’t change, but something flickers underneath it. Something old. Something rotten.

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t reach for you.

He doesn’t have to.

Because you’re still sitting there. You haven’t moved.

And that silence between you—it isn’t peace. It’s surrender, dressed up in stillness.

You chew slowly. Taste nothing.

The rabbit goes down like ash.

When he lays out the blankets later, he places them closer. The gap is smaller now. Measured in inches, not feet.

And when you lie down, facing the wall of trees, you don’t move away.

You tell yourself it’s to stay warm.

You tell yourself it’s survival.

But when your eyes close, it’s his voice that you hear in the dark— low, steady, and too close to the place where your hatred used to live.

A/N: I love these two freaks aaahhhhhh

Thank you so much for reading xx Leave a comment if you want!!

[rinksrats]

hockey screencap 10/???

[twinklingwatermellon]

also I think it’s time for a little Elly Lore Update because I feel like I mention so many people on here and y’all need to understand who I’m taking about when you attend the virtual sleepovers 😌

[lususnatura]

alright, but i'm not trying to be too usfw here, but... whose muse is trying to let blamore put it's head in their lap whilst they run a hand through its hair and watch a christmas movie this holiday season? because blamore is one sleepy plant creature in the winter — and he adoresss having someone run a hand through his hair SO much + they would likely be rewarded with eating as many of those super delicious royal dansk shortbread cookies in tins that they want

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by the wonderfully sensational @cordiallyfuturedwight @cosmicdreamgirl @aprylynn and @raplinenthusiasts for the monthly diagnosis. and it's not looking good gang... bon iver and katie gavin?? call a code

tagging some favs if of course they feel so inclined @thvinyl @eoieopda @jihopesjoint @hoseeok @kimchokejin @monismochi @bisexualnamjoonie <33 breakdown in all senses of the word in the tags below 🫡

[avcnturine]

About: Robin (i never realized he doesn't actually have a voice line for her in-game...)

　　　　　from　　∶　　　　　　　𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒　/　🇦​🇨​🇨​🇪​🇵​🇹​🇮​🇳​🇬​　

• • •⠀⠀▶︎⠀ABOUT ROBIN⠀!

the young lady of the oak family. . . and penacony's most celebrated idol. she must have no small amount resting on her shoulders. i can't say we're well-acquainted, but there's never been any reason to doubt her intentions. on top of that, making an arrangement with the lady jade was not only a bold move, but a smart one. there aren't many others who could pull the necessary strings to help that fallen angel. is this what they'd call the mark of ' familial love ' ?

[jvzebel-x]

🦋

[captain-amadeus]

peak sorcerer x steward content

[writersdrug]

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

[muntitled]

Better Than Drugs

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader | Brief!Thanos x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with your shitty ex boyfriend in the games.

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, High sex, Dub/con, Choking, Exchange of Bodily Fluids, Unprotected Sex, Unedited (we die like soldiers)

A/n: literally no one will read this but I need him and I wrote this for me!

Being treated like a lamb being led to the proverbial slaughter in a death game sucked ass but seeing your ex boyfriend there sucked even more, somehow. From your vantage point perched on your bed tucked away from all the central conflict, you notice them talking about you again.

Call it past bully traum but you knew when people were talking about you and although you couldn't make out what they were saying, a part of you just knew...

Another vote had ended and Namgyu was still staring at you, his head bowed, chewing his fingernails. He was watching you, while you were forced to watch as democracy crumbled around you.

Your brain made you think Namgyu was perhaps berating you in front of his new friend. Bad-mouthing you to absolutely no end, perhaps saying what a lousy, uptight girlfriend you had been in the outside world. How you kept him from his habit. How you tried to force him into rehab countless times.

And so you shrink into yourself, squeezing yourself further into your bed, hugging your knees.

How were you supposed to know the conversation went nothing like how you thought it was going?

"We need to get her on our team," Thanos had said when the voting concluded and they were watching you pick at your roll of tin-foiled kimbap.

"She's already on our team," Namgyu muttered, more quiet than usual as he watched you through the corner of his eye. He didn't feel like eating. He felt like doing drugs. And fucking, maybe, but eating? It never occurred to him.

Without you to remind him to eat, and to actually take care of his bodily health outside of his substance abuse, he really was a mess.

"Oh yeah," Thanos muttered dumbly before turning back to his own food, "Kay, well, I need to sleep with her."

Namgyu didn't even look up from his food, still leaning against the metal beds as he murmured a quiet, "Nope." Popping his lip, extenuating the 'p'

Thanos himself was rallied into silence as Namgyu casually clicked his tongue before adding, "I called dibs on that bro," he steals another glance. You're searching your chest for a piece of cucumber that's fallen out of the kimbap

This unfortunately, zeroes his gaze in on your ample chest, miraculously squeezed into that tracksuit jacket. Now Namgyu was thinking about your tits while Thanos' head whips to the side, his brow lifted.

Namgyu couldn't take his eyes off you since the games began. Watching you during voting time had stirred up all kinds of lost emotions. The easy and almost thoughtless way you had pressed the blue button before tucking your hands in your pockets, never sparing anyone a second glance. He had to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpant. If it weren't for him you might have continued to go amongst the games as an anonymous spectre, with that cash prize as your only goal.

"I didn't know we were calling dibs!?" Thanos stomped his feet petulantly, "That's not fair, man. Not. Cool."

"That's the point of dibs," Namgyu said, pushing his hair behind his ears as he continued to stare you down. "Who knows how long we'll be here?" As he watched you, he tilted his head downwards, causing a thick shadow to fall over his eyes as he watched you. He leaned against the railings of the metal beds piled up to the ceiling, watching you tuck your hands deeper into the sleeves of your sweater. Really fucking cute.

"B-But Homies don't call dibs on girls!" Thanos whines.

"Yeah," Namgyu nods, "but, I'm gonna need more than magic pills and a homie to get me through the night," He made a ring with his index and thumb finger, pinching his one eye shut as he spied at you through it, "She can help,”

Thanos was quiet, eerily so. Good things never happened when Thanos was quiet,

"Let's go over to her right now then. Since she's stealing my homie-"

That immediately snapped Namgyu out of his lust-filled gaze, promoting his shoulders to straighten as he tried to stop Thanos from taking another step towards you.

"Senorita-" he said in a singsong voice and you rolled your eyes as you saw them approaching. Namgyu walked behind like the shadow he always tried to be, with his hands tucked in his pocket. Your bed is relatively low to the ground and your heart stammered when both their shadows fell over you.

"Don't have any change," your eyes whipped to your ex-boyfriend before narrowing, "Or drugs. Sorry." you mustered a painfully sarcastic smile as you attempted to turn in another direction, hoping they might take the hint.

Thanos' teeth stretched as Namgyu swallowed thickly, watching you in that distinctly predatory way of his as he propped his forearm against the railing of the bed. You hate how both of them make you feel and your eye scans in vain around the premises, hoping someone might save you from the duo.

"Lemme make this quick," Thanos said with his drug addicted hand gestures. "My bro wants you and whatever bro wants-" he taps Namgyu's chest behind you- "Bro gets."

Silence passed with you staring deep into Namgyu's dark, almost sinister black eyes. You admitted that you were still painfully attracted to him. Knowing that he knows your body. He's already seen what hid under your blue tracksuit, it was dizzyingly sobering.

He still seemed so devastatingly sleezy it bordered on attractive, like he didn't care about what anyone really thought of him. It still brought an uncomfortable amount of attraction that you didn't really know what to do with. "No thanks," you said, bending your head to take a bite of the kimbap.

"Cunt." you heard him mumble under his breath. That caused your head whip up to glare at him.

"I'm a cunt because I'd rather not fuck a drug addict?"

"No," Namgyu shrugged, "You're just a cunt."

Your nostrils flared as something diabolical ignited inside you. Up until this point, fear had been the only emotion you allowed yourself to feel. The fear of dying to keep you alive. But right now, you're being plagued with another emotion and it's setting you alight with interest.

Your dating preferences were never orthodox. You knew you could never truly be satisfied with any other timid nice guy, and that's what drew you to him. You hated admitting to it but Namgyu calling you a cunt did more than irritate you, it ignited you.

"I'm not here to make friends,” You marvel now, in the tense darkness, how confident you had been then.

“How about a boyfriend then?” Namgyu asked and Thanos whistled lowly as he mutters a ‘nice bro,’

“How about choking?” You shot back, “I tried the boyfriend thing and he stole all my savings to buy drugs.” Namgyu’s jaw ticked and you can see his fist fold and unfold. Thanos’ commentary continues. ‘Shit boyfriend-’ he says under his breath.

“Don't be a bitch so early in the morning…” Namgyu says finally before turning his head, somewhat distracted, “Or at least I think it's morning. Hyung do you think it's morning-”

Thanos raised his hands, “Morning is what we make it in here, bro.”

“Leave me alone of I'll fucking scream.” you cut through all their useless chatter, letting a tense silence settle between the three of you. Eventually, Thanos reluctantly pulls Namgyu away. Murmuring a quiet ‘just take a hint bro.'

Soon, you were left in your bed but not without one more backwards glance from Namgyu over his shoulder. He wasn't done with you and that thought sat heavily on your shoulders until the robotic voice from unseen speakers made the countdown to lights out.

The very last thing you remembered, before the overhead lights were snuffed out, was his black, almond eyes still watching you from his bed.

The blue 'O' velcroed to your breast burns a hole through your conscience as your eyes flutter open in the middle of the night, really needing to pee. The prize money acts as the only source of gold light illuminating the hall while everyone else remains soundly asleep.

Life in the games was so much more stomachable during the day, but when the lights went out, you were forced to sit with your thoughts. That piggy bank didn't have money inside it, it held bodies, and the ghosts practically filled this room.

Still, you can't help but whisper to yourself, “I really have to pee.” The only thing stopping you from going to the bathroom is the gaze you knew would somehow find you from three beds over. Your ex boyfriend watches you, even when the lights go out.

Paranoia be damned.

Cursing softly, you maneuvered yourself to the ground. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible as you moved through the row of beds.

If you were being followed you'd never know. Everything was too dark but a part of you sighed as you reached the small arched doorway completely unscathed.

Almost unscathed.

Your heart hammers in its cage when you feel his heavy arm settle over your shoulders. Your mouth falls open but Namgyu is already banging on the arched door with a closed fist. You flinch with every loud, metallic hit.

The little window opens to reveal a triangle-masked soldier. He stands there emotionless.

“My girlfriend's on her period- she's bleeding everywhere. We need the bathroom.”

There is silence from the Guard who is clearly unimpressed. Just before the little window is about to slide shut Namgyu kicks at the door, “Hey! I wanna fuck my girl- if you want, we could do it out here?!”

You try to wrench yourself out of his grip, toilet be damned but your heart absolutely sinks to find the pink soldier opening the metal door.

Namgyu only twirls, pumping his fist before pulling you in his arms, biting back a smile.

“Can't believe that worked,” Namgyu says, with a raised eyebrow and a happy little shrug as he drags you across the threshold. The trip to the women's bathroom is relatively short as you writhe and fight in his hands. There's virtually no reason for the pink guard to think any of this was consensual but they kept their stoicism on their face as you reached the girl's bathroom.

“We'll be quick,” Namgyu assures the guard with a tight sort of smile before pushing you into the bathroom, and closing the door after himself.

You trip on your way running into one of the stalls and he watches you, biting his nail.

“This is the girls bathroom, or are you too high to notice?” You hiss absolute venom as he bites his fingernail.

“Nah, I'm sober right now, which means I need something to take the load off.”

“Cool. Use your hand,” you sigh from within the stalls before dropping your pants to pee. It irked you that he was standing there, on the other side… waiting for you.

You make quick work of it all. Wiping, flushing, and making a beeline for the sinks. He lets you wash your hands but before you make it to the door his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“Uh Uh,” he tsks, “No ‘i miss you’ kiss, huh?” He drags you into his arms, kicking and screaming as he swipes your brains from across your panicked face.

“Only competent boyfriends get kisses,” Despite the fuss, the door doesn't open. Those guards have quite literally abandoned you in here to fend for yourself.

“I can make it up to you,” he said, “I miss you really bad, baby,” Namgyu's pushing your back against the sink, stained with that sickening, pastel colour as he lowers his nose into the crook of your neck. You writhe as he breathes you in deeply, before sighing. His erection pressed against your thigh.

“Someone else could walk in here,” you cry, feeling a dampness seep out of you, wetting your underwear. Your body was being traitorous because it was enjoying feeling anything other than fear. It yearned for it.

“Sto-” you attempt to catch your breath as he gropes at your breasts from over your tracksuit. “Stop touching me-” you say despite your legs getting weaker and weaker.

“You don't get to touch me anymore. You lost that privilege when you stopped being my boyfriend.” He was so much taller than you when he stretched his hand across your cheeks, forcing your neck back to make more space for his lips. A moan nearly spills out of you.

His hands are trembling and his tongue swipes out to lick the length of your neck. To your shock and horror, you melt in his grasp.

“You don't mean that-” he whispers against your skin. “No one's gonna fuck you like I do-”

“No one's going to steal my money like you do either-”

His hand flies down to your throat, choking as he says through clenched teeth, “I told you I had a problem-” he squeezes and for the briefest moment, you see stars. “I needed help and you abandoned me, you bitch-”

“I didn't abandon you-” His lips are on yours, silencing you in one messy kiss that him forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“You gonna be good for me, Huh?’ He says, hoarsely, your eyes glare up at him.

“Leave me alone-”

“You know I love it when you try to fight back,” his mouth breathes against your hair, “You trying to get me riled up babe, huh?”

His fingers find the lining of your own sweatpants and your heart stammers as he turns to push your front against the sink. Your hand grips at the cheap plaster and you avoid your own traitorous reflection in the mirror, lest you find not only fear in your eyes, but lust

“You know how bad I've needed this- fuck,” his voice cracks when fumbles his cock out, grinding against your ass with his eyes closed in ecstasy and his mouth hanging open. Your finger curls around the sink as the first moan slips out of you. It had his eyes flying open to look down at you in amusement and awe.

“I knew you weren't a completely stuck-up bitch,” he says, pulling you up by the base of the throat, “I knew you still wanted me.”

“I don't,” you squeak out as he pulls down your pants.

“No- but your body does,” he swipes your underwear to the side.

Your body spasms as he roughly sinks his digits into you once before pulling out.

“You miss me real bad,” he brings your fingers up in front of your face and your heart drops to find the arousal webbing his index and middle.

He continues to swipe your arousal from from your ass to your puffy clit and the need wracks through your entire body, building as you arched your ass backwards against him.

His mouth is by your ear, breathing heavily as he lines his cock up at your entrance, already leaking precum, “I know I gave you hell when we were out there-”

“Hell doesn't begin to cover- FUCK-” he rams his cock into you. Positively brimming with need as his hips stutter against you.

“Y-ou stole my fucking savings for drugs-” you get the sentence out quickly before moaning into the air, as your boyfriend fucks out all the frustration he's been carrying, all the need and the withdrawal.

“And I ate you out as an apology-” He reaches his hand around to clamp down on the base of your throat. Your mouth falls open when he cranes our neck back, his eyes boring into yours. “Don't you miss it baby, don't miss having me inside of you?”

“Y-Your eyes are diluted-” you begin to say, utterly incredulous. “You're high right now!”

His hips thrusts in shallow, quick strokes. “And your pussy's wet, guess we're both fucked.”

Your pussy tightens around him like a long lost friend, it knocks you out how deeply you've craved him. Needing reprieve from all the fear. “You're squeezing around my cock, you fucking slut-” that nearly has you seeing stars. Your body spasms.

“That it…” he whispers, “Don't think I haven't forgotten the way you abandoned me out there… But in here,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, “You dont so much as fucking breathe without my permission.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as his cock hits that particular pillow of nerves inside you, nearly flipping you off the edge.

“Spit on my hand,” he says, an edge to his voice that let you know he was far too close. You forgot how messy things got when you had sex with him. How much of a mess he made of you.

You do it without thinking about it and his eyes widen as he presses that same hand to your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your eyes are squeezed shut as he reaches around to rub you to your orgasm. His movements only fumble when his hips start stuttering.

“N-Need you to cum for me-” he breathes out. “I’m jittery- baby. I need it- shit-” you slip into your orgasm right in front of him, milking his cock for all its worth. “F-Fuck this is so much better than drugs,” he murmers, eyes rolled back as a drunken smile ghosts over his face. He's in complete and utter euphoria.

Two rough knocks on the door signal the need for your return but Namgyu's cock is still spilling ropes of his cum inside you and you're doing nothing but taking it.

“I hate you,” you breathe out, because it's true. If it weren't for him you wouldn't be here.

His breath is warm against your neck as he says, “I love you too.

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[wingedfuncomputer]

The Outskirs of Town

Remmick x fem!reader

Summary: Living far from town with a father who treats you more like a maid instead of a daughter proves itself exhausting. Secluded like a bird in a cage, a boring cycle life becomes until a random man shows up one night striking up an innocent deal. In name of your chicken coop you accept letting him in. Though as time passes & whispers of violence roughing a sweet couple up around town has you rethinking this weird relationship you have created with the Irish stranger who seemed to come out of thin air.

WarningsNSFW: slow-burnish, naive!reader, if you squint fluff, racist undertones, racism, reader has a mean father, manipulative! Remmick, blood, dub-con, fingering, oral (fem!receiving), corruption kink?, somnophilia, No actual P in V, violence, vampirism, death!, nightmares, injury!, biting, Angst, spit, !reader is not black due to family dynamic

Word count: 14.6k Fic playlist!

From a far his eyes locked on her. Right as the sun set tending the little chickens, ushering them into the coop. Softly, she tried her hardest to close the door as if not wanting to scare them. A regular passer by wouldn't glance an eye she was a normal little thing, but not to him, not to Remmick.

It was primal how he always found himself being dragged back to her every time the sun decided to hide behind the horizon. Her sweat, her skin, her pulsing blood enticed him as if he'd known her before. She was too sweet to ravish like all those ol' people he had left a mess of before. He let himself get enveloped in the idea that his human mind,what little of it remained had.Affection. With that utterly disgusting revelation he decided to knock on her door to put an end to the feeling once and for all. Heavy, knuckles contacting the chipping paint of the wood.

You had been sweeping the floor when you heard a noise coming from the front door. A little startled you had halted confused by who would be visiting your father so late at night. Most people weren't out after sun down. "The floors ain't gon' sweep themselves keep at it girl". His gruffy voice made you grip the wooden stick tighter negating the fact it caused splinters to get stuck to your skin. It was old, long due to be thrown away but your voice was nonexistent in this house. With a small creak a hesitant humble very male voice spoke, "good afternoon... sir". You whipped your head around intrigued but found your father's body blocking the man behind the door. "State your business". He had never learnt kindness, it was a foreign thing to him. "I'm just a lowly traveler going on by, was wonderin' if you could offer some hospitality". A huff emitted from your father as the man continued. "My wife she's no longer with us.. I must find myself across the state but the sun is beating and unforgiving". Your heart ached for him, he sounded defeated. Your father surely would say mean ol' things to him and get violent. But suprisingly he laughed barking your name then orders at you, "fetch this man a cup of water". Only for a split second when he turned were you able to capture a glimpse, the man already looking directly at you. His features resembled your father's, except for his frame he looked thinner his face covered in what seemed to be a mix of dirt and sweat. You nod and quickly keep your eyes down. Whilst you grab a tin cup and fill it with water by the sink you hear the small hushing of their conversation asking where he was headed to and why. Your steps are weary making sure you don't spill the water.

"The Catholics did a number on my people kindness is hard to come by. Could you let me in don't want to bother the young lady ?" His first comment is what makes your father's demeanor change, you see it from a few feet away as his back tenses. He ignores the man's request, "Where you from boy?". Once only a few inches away you decide to lay down the cup by a piece of furniture near by. Eyes creeping behind your father's shoulders it was obvious to see the man was not a boy. There's a glint of a smirk in the strangers lips as he glances at you, "Ireland". That's when your heart drops, with poison your father spits "get your filthy Irish ass off my f*cking property". 

"I don't mean no disrespect, I'd still appreciate that water" he takes a step forward which makes your father push him. You yelp afraid they'd have a full brawl and the innocent man would end up in his grave. "You won't get nothin' here ! Leave my property". Your hands goes up to your fathers arm as you can see his anger exalted, his fist itching to make contact with the Irish man's face. "Father please..." his face full of anger weighs in on yours before shoving your hand away and instead drags you inside once more. "It's best if you learn to keep away from men like that ." He speaks as if the man wasn't there, you can't help but take a look once more offering a look of apology.

That whole night you couldn't bring yourself to sleep tossing and turning, imagining what that poor man was going through. You didn't hear about him the following day or day after that until you found yourself reluctantly putting yet another dead bird into a sack. They were being ripped to shreds, you made sure the coop was secured each night so what could be killing them? It was sundown, the night air hitting your skin in a way that made your hairs stick up. " 'coyote... or fox" your body jolts hearing someone break the silent spell in the air. Immediately letting the bag fall and taking steps back as you twist to see who the voice belonged to. "Apologies I didn't mean to scare ya". It was hard to see in the darkness but the moonlight along with your small lamp on the ground allowed you to see enough to say, "your the man from a few days ago". He was standing behind the fence that surrounded your chicken coop. "Guilty as charged" you couldn't help but laugh along with him. "I'm Remmick" he extends his hand towards you which you can only just stare at. It would've been appropriate to say your name and envelope his hand but you don't. Remmick. "My Irish hands too dirty" he murmurs to himself which makes you start to ramble in apologies insuring his heritage nothing to do with your lack of a response. " of course not It's just that, no offense sir your a- your a...." Your stuttering makes heat flood your cheeks. "A stranger?" He says it so casually no anger laced in between his words just light heartedness. You both stare at each other in an awkward pregnant pause before you find the courage to nod. Guilt weighs in your soul after reflecting "I'm truly ashamed about what happened last time... that is no way to be treated". He just smiles a little huff of air being exhaled as he leaned into the fence, "it happens more than you know darlin' nothin' personal". His deep voice grumbles nicely when he calls you by that little pet name making your stomach flutter. It must've been as clear as the night sky you weren't allowed around men often let alone other people.

Remmick seems intrigued by you growing quiet, tilting his head to the side as he quirks , "the way across the state ain't an easy one.. staying around these parts is easier. would help if I had a place to rest... ". You would offer him your home in a heartbeat but you knew how your pops wasn't fond of him, let alone yourself. He could barely tolerate you. The strangers eyes are trained on your every twitch, chest constricting and trembling hands playing with the loose fabric of your skirt. It was quite nice really it felt like you were a lil' rabbit troubled by your surroundings. Yet You were unaware that the greatest danger wasn't your father, no not your father. It was the devil himself looming over you in this instant.

He smacks his lips making you look back at him once more. His pointer finger is near his mouth faking thought, "well I might just got a deal that could work for both 'f us". Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but you still hear the poor man out. "I can help ya with the lil' chicken problem... in exchange I get a piece of shelter". His eyes nudge at the forgotten sack beneath you then trail up your frame to your face. Your teeth grind trying to thinking If he helped manage the death of these chickens father would probably lay off my back, let me go back out in town for food or what not for he farm.

"So what da ya, say? You gon' let me in?"

You still hear it even after many days of accepting. The way his finger nail clicked on the fence doors metal handle, his words not menacing or inviting just there looming behind your brain and the stillness that overtook the night. He was your secret, like a little frog you hid beneath your bed covers from your father when you were younger. Except he took cover in the coop with the chickens and he was no frog... just a man with everything he'd lost weighing on top of his shoulders. And like those slimy little animals you gave him food and water usually late at night when your father wouldn't suspect a thing, not that he cared much for your safety.

The arrangement went well the chicken massacre was over in just short of days. You were given permission to go back in town and here you found yourself in the shop owned by colored folk. Your pops would be yelling at you through the top of his lungs but he wasn't here who would scold you then? He couldn't tell the difference between the white peoples and the not so white peoples food. It was all the same. You got a few stares here and there but didn't pay much mind your eyes were encapsulated by a nice pocket watch. Not too big to cost lots of money but still a good size your sure Remmick would benefit from this for his travels. "Well well don't tell me the fine lady got a man now?" You clutch the fine piece of metal in your hands but relax once you realize it's Genevieve a worker of the shop you've grown fond of. You shake your head trying to fight the blush surging on your face, "oh no nothin' of the sort just for a friend!". Her arms cross in front of her chest giving you that look of suspicion. "That's how it starts then next thing ya' know you'll be popping those babies out like a damn industrial machine". She speaks with a reminiscent tone. She was a mother of a new born with a doting husband they didn’t have much they were all she ever needed.You can't help but stifle your giggle, the idea of being that way with the Irish man hiding in your barn seeming much too far. Not that it hadn't cross your mind you were just a woman after all and he was a handsome man. "I barely even know him, just a  few days n' countin". Her eyes widen with a smirk, "so there is someone!". You both walk towards the register that seemed to be isolated from the other part of the establishment. "He must be real handsome to be worth all this money. A real dream," she says sarcastically while she has the watch in her hand. You lay the rest of your groceries on the isle next to the register. It was pretty but out of your tax bracket maybe not your fathers but You're sure he'd notice right away on your big spending when the plentiful groceries were baren when you'd bring them back. "...your right, I'm dreamin' far too big " you let out self deprecatingly

"Aint nothin' wrong with dreamin' big, though I have to admit this gift is more of a husband typa gift. Unless... he be your husband?". "No...". She can see you grow a bit ashamed so she puts the watch back in a secure place before she brings out a straw cowboy hat. "You don't see these round here much, but very good for hard workin' men. Keep the sun out their face n' everythin'. Less than the watch... I'll even give ya a deal". If Remmick was traveling by foot your sure the sun would be unforgiving, could be easier to disguise the buy for yourself. Pops wouldn't bat an eye. "You make a good bargain I can't resist Genevieve".  Well most bargains you fell victim to. As you pay for your  things she puts the food in your home bag and places the hat a bit too big for your size on your head, flicking the edge. "Now go tell your man he'll have to make you a wife after this gift" you both laugh as you start walking away until her voice calls out to you right as your a few inches from the door. Turning around she gives you a tight hug which you try your best to return, "stay safe alright people goin' missing round here don't be one of 'em".

Her voice was soft and dripping with concern you thought about her warning as you walked back home. Still an hour or two till sun down which meant your father would be home soon. So quickly you got to cookin' dinner, a potato soup with corn on the side. Not the most cohesive plate but enough to fill the stomach up. With a rumble of an engine coming to a halt you knew he was home. Not so long after dragged in your father with no words exchanged sitting down to eat, you joined him in silence. Your heart was palpating as the sun finally set, in excitement of being able to see Remmick and giving him the hat you had bought him currently tucked away in your room. "Serve me 'nother plate" gruff cut and dry. "Yes sir" you got up going to the too small to even be considered pot with his bowl serving him more. As you placed it on the table there was no gratitude so you went back to your own bowl which you ate slowly. Once he was finished he left his plate deserted going upstairs to the washroom, the trickling of water alerted you to pass by the same room he was in to grab his clothes. The cold bucket of water outside was a perfect contrast to the slight humidity in the air. You tugged the large pants and shirt against the makeshift slab of wood and metal that helped scrape the clothes new. Even with the hair tie a few pieces of hair got in front of your face which you tried your best to shoulder out of the way. Maybe one day you'd run far from these grounds and start living not just slaving away doing chores. You squish the clothes riding them of the water extending them before laying them up in the clotheslines. With a deep breath you take a chance to intake the sweet oxygen. the small sweat building up proving the job was just a bit harder than it seemed

He was watching from the darkness in the trees, the adrenaline once fresh in his veins now soothing and left nothing but a linger. It became a ritual he could never get enough of. Having kept you alive was fun. Not something that only lasted a few minutes but could be dragged on for as long as he liked. He was the reason you were standing there right now tired from your chores. Your pulse seeming to call him like some sort of siren in the ocean. His feet silent beneath the summer grass.

You pondered of what Genevieve had said earlier about the towns folk going missing. The hollowness in the air along with the hanged clothes obstructing your view of the forest surrounding your house urged you to go back inside. With a quick turn you didn't expect for Remmick to be at your side. Automatically you slapped your hands over your mouth successfully hiding your yelp. "You gotta stop doin that!" You try your best to whisper. His creeping was perfect no evidence of sounds being heard as if he were some sort of ghost, maybe a warlock with witchcraft tricks. He tries his hardest to bury his small laugh inside the depthless of his chest throwing his hands up in surrender noticing your frustration. "Ya must know I can't help myself doll". You notice the sweat buildup on his forehead and the little dirt on his face. Swiftly you take the cloth wrapped around your waist dipping it in the clean water remaining then stepped closer to him, wiping it across his skin. "I know you can't seem to keep yourself clean either" you expected him to sass back but instead he just stares adoringly at you as you finish up focusing on his sweaty bangs.  "Why would I? It'll probably be the only time you put your hands on me willingly, I'm trynna cherish it". his hand lifts up to your face caressing your cheek lightly before tucking that stray hair behind your ear. "That's not true.." your words died with his touch. His fingers on your skin make your heart skip a beat, body freeze and your throat run dry. He was being a flirt purposefully. Right? I mean he was usually this way just never so straight forward and touchy. As if knowing you were having a revelation he can't help but tilt his head and let his eyebrows raise.

"-your soup" you blurt out retracting your hand. Trying to unakwardfy the moment you clear your throat as you slowly walk away, "I'll bring you your soup, you must be real hungry n' I don't wanna make it grow colder". You don't give him enough time to respond shutting the door behind you, back pressed against the firm wood. Your hands come up to your chest, finally letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Uncertainty was growing in your head along with the small tingles that ran through your back from being do close to him .... Being able to see every pore, feel his touch his eyes and lips you'd bet he'd kissed many women in his life and you knew they had enjoyed it...how would it feel- enough! You push yourself off the door and get to pouring Remmick a bowl in a hastily manner. Your father's weight creaks under the wood floors but he pays you no mind instead goin' to sit on the small couch with his radio and newspaper in hand. The small grumbling of the static of voices was oddly comforting allowing you to carefully wrap a piece of corn on the cob around a rag. Before going outside you go upstairs to your room scouring for your knitted cardigan. It was a pretty shade of dirt brown with little specs of beige. As you slipped it on your eyes catch a glimpse of the cowboy hat you picked out for the ol' Irish man but decided against removing it from the edge of your bed. He’s just a stranger the voice in your head reminded you.

By the time you go outside once more you expect him to be waiting for you, in that same stance resting against the fence you've grown fond of but to no surprise it seemed he'd gone into the chicken coop early. You weren't sure why it made your heart weigh down on your chest. Though disappointed you don't let yourself fret, placing the bowl and corn right ontop the fence knowing he'd come out whenever possible. Maybe you should knock never know what if he just forgot. Your knuckles softly tapped on the wood not the one that belonged to the chicken coop but the fence. It wasn't to signal for him it was to merely trying to build courage for yourself to actually do so. Ultimately though you retreated back into your home.

Had he taken your abrupt leave as rejection? Was he bothered? Worse what if he no longer wanted to speak to you! Were the thoughts plaguing your mind throughout the day after. Juvenile ones you were ashamed to admit. "Tell me I'm a fool. Tell me I'm doomed please Genevieve" you whined to the woman you always came to bother. She was just a few years older but there was a certain maturity to her you loved like a mother. "Who's not when it comes to love, though I'd push back on the doomed.". "I wouldn't even say love, he's a complete stranger not even from here..". She halts the clothes she was folding completely, turning to look at you, "ya said he was your friend what do ya mean complete stranger n' not from 'round here ? ". It was stern as if the little small details you had mentioned about his appearance, sweet gestures and his "nightly visits" held no validity now. "Well he's not exactly my friend I've known for ages that's why I said stranger". But your poor excuse of a lie didn't faze her, immediately you cracked. "Alright I lied! I only know this man for a little less than 2 weeks he was just so sweet n' needed help but my papa don't like him so he's been staying in the coop where I keep all my chickens!". It was as if she was the one trying to catch her breath at your confession. "Before ya judge he's a very honorable man, he ain't do nothin' weird yet he helps keep the predators away from my small feathered friends n' I just provide him food, water ya know the basic necessities-" That's how you start telling her the whole story from start to finish of how that night when you met went down. All the nitty gritty and the pointless details.

"Oh child may the lord bless ya heart". You were unsure on how to react to her words, an akward smile hanging on your lips. "Is that meant in a good way or-?"  She cuts you off before you can finish. "What in the world ya thinking'! You must wanna visit your grave early girl". You try to scratch the nervousness away behind your neck as you dash your eyes around the store. "It's not as bad as it seems Gene I swear".  "Let me get this straight a man who came begging at your door, which your father kicked out, is now living in your barn house because he caught you late at night offered to help you protect your chickens so now your bending over backwards for him?". Even though you're afraid to you just nod. She sighs deeply, "I swear with the crimes appearin' round town I'd wish you'd be more careful". There's real sincerity in her voice which makes your tone turn a bit defensive. "I live on the outskirts news like that don't reach me so easily..". Theres a bit of silence in the air to make the gears in your head turn. "what exactly happened anyway?"

" some lady n' her husband near the outskirts aswell, don't know exactly where she lives.. or lived. No sign left of 'em  just blood n' their baby. Many said it was a Horrible horrible sight wouldn't wish it on anybody" your body can't help but let out a small tinge of sweat afraid of exactly what fate the babe had met . "So are both of 'em alive?". "No one knows.. as I said lots of blood but yet no bodies" there was a linger of thick air between the both of you, unspoken yet very heavy. "Should probably get home then, I'll keep myself safe". You both said your goodbyes and off you were right as the sun met the edge of the horizon. The walk back had been nothing but peaceful, a weird ambiance of sorts seeming to loom, even the quiet of the house had grown intimidating. Though rinse repeat of the previous days as you made dinner and your father came in the door, eating then leaving you be busied you away such thoughts. While your pops went to sleep earlier, you on the other hand find your place outside once more leavin' Remmicks food out on top the fence like you always did. You were collecting the hens eggs when you noticed the grid near the top of their little home was slowly but surely ripping off. While you stood up to inspect the spot you caught glimpse of Remmick far away walking towards you. You lift a hand up and he does as-well It makes you notice something wrapped around his back. Throughout his stay he would busy himself in the day, you never pushed yourself to ask. You didn't think it would be quite appropriate to know his day schedule, he never asked yours... well not that he had to ask, you always told him the night before.

"Busying yourself with the hens now are ya". You smile at his introduction to starting a conversation. He joined you inside the fenced perimeter. After just a day or two you had grown to miss his voice. "You may protect 'em but I still gotta clean 'em n'  their small home aswell. What's that you got?" You can't help but let your curiosity get the best of you especially when it came to something that looks like an instrument. He swiftly tilts whatever he has around so what looked like a guitar is now In front of him. With a small lean towards you he professes as if he were about to tell you something sacred, "this ol' thing is called a banjo, keeps me company late at night". Your eyes light up, repeating the instruments name in your head and the fact he hadn't lost his spark from a few days prior. Pops never allowed these kinda things here he told you a home was meant for quiet not to be filled with loud yapping and music. "Well you must play somethin' for me now". His fingers tap the edge of the banjo eyes locked onto yours before his voice grows husky. " beg real nicely n' I might just do it" your breath hitches at his words, eyes trailing down to where he was slowly rubbing small circles on the surface of the banjo. This minuscule action had you in a trance. What was he doing to you? What was this you were feeling growing deep in your bones at the depthness of your belly?

You did end up asking him, begging so sweetly he just couldn't resist to let you hear him play . A sweet tune you can't even remember the rhythm to, or his humming he offered. The only thing you were able to remember was the way his fingers strummed softly as you lay in bed. It was the last thing on your mind before the night gently coaxed you to sleep.

It was a fever that overtook your senses as you shifted back and forth in bed, sweat accumulating on your neck and forehead. An unexplainable throb growing between your legs while something wet slithered between yourself like the slits of a book. A plunge invading your most intimate part made you cry, head thrown back as your hips and hands tried to wrestle with this new feeling. It felt sinful, violating, a light sting causing pain, yet addicting. You didn't want it to stop, you didn't want the attack on your folds to end. A rumble, like a laugh made vibrations, shocks travel through your cunt inching that tightness in your stomach close to absolute destruction. You didn't want whatever was happening to stop. That's when you looked down, hands digging into a full set of sweaty hair, pulling to at least reveal the object of your greatest pleasure. Those ice cold eyes, toothy grin with a peculiar fang, his nose bridge. "Beg real nicely f’ me " he hushed his fingers still working overtime. But that's all you needed the puff of hot air on the place he had just been feasting right over your pearl. His eyes never leaving yours. Your moans grow, his name dying on your lips as all you can let out is strings of abnormal sounds as you feel your peak finally falling over.

A loud bang immediately has you sitting straight up in your small bed. "Sleepin' in is for the f*cking birds. Are you a bird?" You rub your eyes, still dazed from what your mind had just made you experience. Yet you know better than prioritizing regaining yourself quickly you groggily speak, "no.. no, I'm not sir". "Right your not so get your ass out the bed and start cleanin'!"  He mumbles out strings of insults as he finally leaves the confines of your room. From the way the sun is blaring you were sure it was closer to noon than your regular wake up time.

You do what he orders ignoring the wetness between your thighs. He leaves and you were sure he wouldn't come back till next morning or next days midnight. He always had the habit of leavin' when the weekend came. Who knows where, all you knew is when he'd come back he'd be drunk out his mind n' rage enough to feed a whole herd of cows with his hands... you find yourself with infinite amount of free time finishing with cleaning the whole house in records time. So you sit near a window gazing at the sunlight, the birds, grass and faint butterflies here n there. It was quite odd really you had never gone past the perimeters of your house grounds only sticking to your home, the trail leading to the town and the town itself. The woods surrounding your home were quite dark, the trees even from where you were sitting seemed to have claws for twigs, all sorts of poisonous plants were just a few distance away and the wild animals.. the ones who had killed 1/4 of your chickens. All danger, you didn't have to put yourself in front of. The chickens invaded your view making you realize you hadn't treated the hens to a proper clean. With a small groan you lift yourself off the window ledge grabbing the cowboy hat you had bought a few days ago. You still hadn't found the courage to give it to him, even though a bit loose around your head it had really proved itself useful with blocking out the sun just as Gene had promised. Especially like now that you were grabbing buckets of water back n' forth, cleaning with rags the outside of the house along with the old broom. Even with the shade created on your face it didn't stop the relentless rays from causing unexplainable heat.

"That darn metal wire" you huff out, mouth dry. When you had believed to be done you took notice of the even wired fence on the top of the hens coop looking in worse condition than before. Did I not take care of this? Before your anger can get the best out of you, shame takes over it instead trickling in big waves. Remmick and his banjo... that's what got me distracted.  You bite your lip scouring for pliers your father kept in a tool box near the coop. The sun was going down soon you told yourself you could catch a drink after you finish this last job. You have to really force your eyes to focus when extending yourself to try and reach the metallic fence. I won't replace it completely just wrap it around itself to keep any unwanted creatures out. Then I'll rest..

Your hands start to shake a bit and your calf's hurt due to you being on your tiptoes. Focus it's not that hard. Successfully you close 3 out of 4 wires needing one left. But then you hear a snap then a sharp sting running down your finger. You hiss in response and let the pliers go abruptly, which causes them to land on your foot. The overwhelming situation makes your breath lose evenness not helping the fight of lack of oxygen your lungs had already been dealing with. Your vision stars to be invaded by growing black splotches. "Sit.. I've gotta, do that..." so you do, hand tightly wrapped around your thumb both covered in that red essence. The sight of your not so little cut makes you grow even more light headed. Before you can even protest the darkness envelops you, too weak to even fight it your eyes gently flutter shut.

You feel it before seeing it. There's a huge pounding in your head that forces your lids to be no more than one centimeter open and a throb. Not a painful one, no one that expresses want on the southern side of your body. It's familiar, like the feeling you had freshly in the morning except unlike in your dream you clench on nothing. Only tingles you can grasp onto but it doesn't create satisfaction. what makes you drift your dazed eyes downward is the pressure felt on your thumb. It was hard to focus, everything was a blur you just catch the sound of wetness. Something holding your hand, it was draining you not just emotionally but physically. Subconsciously you moan it's soft and covered in the many layers of your throat yet this makes whatever is beneath you stop. As it looks up your corneas put in the work even if it's for just a split second. You see the silhouette of a man, unrecognizable with bright red eyes, mouth lightly covered in your dark essence and sharp teeth. It was human n' monster combined n' it was staring straight at you. Your system was beyond exhausted shutting you forcefully down again.

Your left in darkness for a while till you start stirring awake, something cold running across your forehead. "C'mon gotta see you wake up" that voice delights your soul a light murmur of his name under your breath. It earns you a warm grumbly laugh from the depths of his chest, "the one n' only darlin" . You identify the object pressing against your cheek as his hand you can't help but lean into it. Though you did not find absolute warmth you still enjoyed it. He brings a small cup up to your lips urging you to drink which you do. Your dry throat rejoices in the new source of water to quench your thirst. The slight flex to your hand which alerts you of a slight sting sends flashes of faux memories through your brain. The animal the thing sucking your hand or your thumb whatever it had been made you involuntarily jolt subsequently some water spilling on you from the cup. "Sorry, sorry" you quickly say between breaths your low energy not equipping fast reflexes. He quickly puts the cup down comforting you by rubbing his hands down the side of your shoulders. "Are you alright what happened?" You try to cough to hide the embarrassing way your voice wobbled. "I'm good 'just- I'm skittish remember?" You try to laugh it off but you can tell he doesn't buy it. He plays along though. This moment of silence allows you to completely regain your senses to see you were still outside, next to the coop in the last position you remember being in.

"I wrapped your thumb real good, shouldn't bleed no more ... what happened to ya? I swear when I walked up I thought ya were just bein' silly with me" ,you pull your injured hand closer to you at its mention. The pliers not so far from you push you to speak, "I was trynna fix some part of the chicken coop, cut myself, must've lost track of time given I've been out all day in the glazing sun..." the cancerous rays, the heat that seemed to be burning you from inside out. Your healthy hand slaps at your head finding it empty the ground at your sides makes contact with your hand aswell. "Lookin' for this sweet old cowboy hat?" His voice is cocky once you look up you realize why. The straw you bought for was on his head. Fits him perfectly not just around his skull but the way it also frames his face makes you believe it was made specifically for him in mind and he knows this. He can't miss an opportunity to tease,  "Might keep it suits me well, your little brain don't fill it" now it's your turn to not laugh at his attempt to bring light heartedness into the air. You were still disturbed by the weird dream like nightmare you had experienced, adding on your injury aswell both weren't a good combo. Yet even with this you try not to dwell on the way the edges of his mouth tilt downward at your lack of enthusiasm. "That's actually for you.. I was meant to give to ya some time ago 'just was a coward". His mouth does a whole 180 his frown no more instead plastered on is a bashful smile. One that didn't have arrogance, teasing or any ulterior motives behind it. "Well aren't you just the sweetest doll face". You can't help but let the blush roam freely at his praise until that warmth in your belly returns along with a headache. "I should get to bed" as you try to stand a light whince leaves your lips the fact your foot was aching due to the heavy metal pliers that fell on them earlier coming to your attention. Remmick aids you in order to walk out the fence. The chickens were locked in the coop already, his plate of food gone. You don't realize any of this since having your body pressing onto his makes your brain mush.

"I can take it from here, I had just forgot those stupid pliers fell on my foot"  you say as you finally reach the houses back door. He lets you go, "don't forget to clean that wound up tomorrow should help without your pops nagging early mornin'" you laugh and say goodnight the weakness in your bones catching up to you.

The next day right as the sun rises you sit in the kitchen table in silence. A news article from town you had collected left at your door and Alcohol from your father's stash on the table as you stare at the oddly physically pleasant gash infront of you. Something was odd, you've received your own fair share of cuts, scrapes and injuries none of them compared to this one. It was as if where the skin broke was just an illusion, no blood left to clean or seep out just your pink flesh beneath your skin. You shift in your seat recounting the lapping at your finger that sent tingles down to your feet. It was all so weird, you never had vivid dreams like those and you could still feel its presence around you. It's hunger, need to suck you dry... but was it your blood it wanted or your soul? You sound like a kid overanalyzing your nightmares. It was just a nightmare that was all, you told yourself. Plus if any weird animal had been near you Remmick would've of noticed. He would've done something. Would he?

Your brain seems to be enjoying playing devils advocate forcing you to shake your head and stand from the chair in disagreement. Though you connected that the newspaper you had read. 'Couple missing child dead' was who Genevieve must've been talking about. No longer wanting to let your brain to spiral out of control you decide a shower would probably serve you well. So you do just that letting the comforting hands of the water caress your naked body while the wound on your hand isn't affected by the soap. You hum to yourself a tune one you've never heard of before, didn't even know the words to yet your brain simultaneously did. Something so normal you did everyday made you wonder back to the couple from town. 'Bert and Joan' the article of their tragedy had mentioned their names. Were they vigilant knowing something would happen or were they doing their daily tasks like you were right now? They were probably enjoying day until someone decided to make a mess of their lives let alone a baby. Whoever had done that deserved the worst penalty a judge could offer. It sadness your heart too much that you push the subject to the back of your brain. After you brush your hair out and put a new pair of fresh clothes on you decide to take a look at the small box you kept hidden away in your closet. It was your mother's. The only thing you had left of her.

There's few letters you read over too many times to count while growing up, miscellaneous objects and a photograph. It was in black n' white starting to peel right over her face. This photograph had been the only thing that connected you to your mother. now all that was left was a still picture of her beautifully clothed frame and one quarter of her face. Maybe it was for the best, you didn't know much about her and your pops said she just up n' left one day. You still held onto hope. The way she wrote, expressing her emotions just didn't seem to coincide with the woman your father portrayed her to be. What catches your attention though is this book, very dusty n' old. The secrets of the past, your hands trail over the title indented on the cover. Looking at the table of contents it seems to be an explanation book for medicinal recipes, herbs, then towards the end of the book you see "creatures". While trying to flip the pages over to that section you go downstairs. It's past mid day, the sun still strong so you lay down on the couch. With the book in your hand you start reading about wendigos and skin walkers of the sort. Their stalking abilities, ways to manipulate their prey, sharp teeth, their need for human flesh. That specific part was underlined, someone had read this book with passion, little notes on the side, phrases circled. Maybe your mother or a familiar... while you continue your investigation somewhere along the way you knock out. Cold and surrounded by darkness there’s Voices that start to whisper in your ear. They're indescribable except for the way it sounds like they're reciting a prayer. There's no fear just tranquility their hushness proving comforting. You can't relish in it long until they start getting louder a tone of desperation infecting them. Then your name being repeated. You try to move, stir yourself awake but nothing works. Your heart beat rings in your ears taunting you along with their cries, blood curling screams. A voice overtakes all of them in screaming your name.

You sit straight up gasping for air, chest rising and falling dramatically. It felt too real the vibrations of their voices still living deeply inside your ear drums. There's no time left to help yourself focus on calming your tremors down until a knock echos through the living room. Your blood pressure spikes from the sound but you force yourself up. It was dark out making you realize your nap took more than what you believed. The floor creaks underneath your bare feet with every step you take. Once you reach the door you hesitate. What if I'm going insane with stress and you're just hearing things? It was dark out, you were alone with no way to defend yourself... you decide on the next best course of action. Peaking through the medium sized window the door had your fingers pushed the drapes aside eyes coming in contact with a man facing away but you knew that sweaty hair anywhere and the banjo strapped on his back.

Quickly you open the door relieved to see Remmick as he turns around the cowboy hat you'd given him in hand. "Hey sweetheart" but you don't give him a response. He notices your eyes darting left and right the way you fidget with your fingers as if trying to tie a rope. Due to the lack of communication back he speaks again, "you alright 'seem on edge?". You try to brush it off but he moves forward on the little steps located at the front of the door. "I'm here for ya, 'can tell me anythin' ". He was at your doorstep, close to your house something he never did because he was overly cautious of your father catching a glimpse at him. An unspoken rule. "don't forget to clean that wound up tomorrow should help without your pops nagging early mornin'"

"Should help without your pops nagging early mornin'"

"How'd ya know?" You ask before thinking. He's a bit taken back by the out of the context question. "What da ya mean?". "How'd ya know my pops wasn't here?" You can see the warmth in his eyes falter for only a split second subconsciously you stopped leaning towards him. He laughs in your face making you rethink the sudden hostility on your end. "Cars gone, got hurt yesterday with no one to help, he'd done somethin' similar last week? 'Don't know darlin' don't take a genius to figure this one out". You sigh in disappointment at yourself joining him in a chuckle. He was the only one who cared for you, never hurt you, someone you considered a confidant sort of like Genevieve back in town. "Sorry, don't know what's wrong with me   I've just been havin' these nightmares must be the stress.." you rub your temples dragging your hair away from your face. He quiets down his voice more cut dry and for the first time since you met him you heard him sound unsure "What these nightmares about... if you don't mind me askin' ". You look up at him once more eyebrows scrunching trying to recall. "I'm not sure.. uhh monsters, voices or somethin' it's odd" it's not that you didn't want to tell him, you just weren't so sure of it yourself."Well good things they're just nightmares" he hums as he seems to be analyzing you. His gaze made you surprisingly uneasy but this feeling dwindles as he chirps . "There's this place over by the forest, it's where I find myself more often than not ... throughout the day of course. It's real sweet with a stream, nice little area to sit n' sing where the air hits nicely. Would love to share my place of paradise with ya if ya'd want to f'course".

It seemed enticing, intimate, but the crickets in the air and darkness that seeped from the forest haunting the background made you shake your head softly, "sorry.. not today". You had never been one to deny him you were always so eager to please. He forces a smile, "I understand, im a man here asking a lady to take a stroll along the concealed forest alone in the late of the night" you can see him take a few steps down the small flight of stairs. "It's not that Remmick, I really would love to it's just..." you can't find the words, the excuse, because it didn't exist. "... just can't" The last string of events had scrambled your brain like eggs in the morning. You weren't sure what to put faith in. With this rejections you can feel the disappointment In the way his shoulders drop. "It's alright.. I'll be, heading to sleep then, go catch your own z's ". His poor excuse for a laugh following his words was awkward. You should reach out to him, grab his hand before he goes too far for you bare feet could reach. But you never do watching as he settles inside the fence you can only murmur a small "goodnight" that doesn't even reach his ears. the small click back from the door signifies your end of the night as you lock it. You don't glance at the clock just dragging your feet on the floor all the way up to your room. Unlike before where you would just knock your self out with boredom instead you are subjected to torture by your lack of a dormant brain. The inability to succumb to sleep being the perpetrator. You wasn’t insomnia just the fleeting thought of danger being near never leaving, it was like you knew something was bound to happen something terrible, but couldn't pin point exactly when. Your father hadn't come home, the stressful nightmares, remmicks odd behavior or was it yours? This was all too much to digest. You sit up from your bed abruptly standing no longer being able to force your eyes shut to pretend sleep. Hours have already gone by. A glass of warm milk would ease the nerves.

You didn't want to waste anymore time putting a small metal pot over the kitchen stove and fetched the milk pouring no more than a cup and putting the white gallon back in its designated space. With a repetitive tick the flames came to life putting in the work to heat up the milk. You sigh, the nightgown you had on was very weightless, soft and borderline sheer but breathable. It allowed the air from your bedroom fan to save your overheating skin in the night. The sudden feeling of your hairs sticking up from your arms and neck have you holding yourself in a hug. Face darting left and right to find anything to explain the cause but only the endless darkness is to find. You grumble turning off the stove not caring if the milk was treading the fine line between cold and warm. You chug it, big gulps no complains, it wasn't that usual warm feeling that traveled through your intestines just bland mildness. You slam the cup down having to drag your forearm to remove some of the excess. Sleep. Now go to sleep, your bedroom. You take steps to go back, the lights being right before the stairs working in your favor. Once you you hear the click your vision returns to being useless. Mind set on one goal finally catching sleep but a shuffle very soft that could be easily missed if not paying attention makes you freeze in place. There's an urge to turn but you tell yourself to keep going on your way for your own sake. Eyes forward move forward. You don't though, instead you slowly twist your head behind you out of curiosity. It was the same sentiment as being adamant on seeing a spider hiding below your bed instead of living in blissful ignorance and pretending its presence wasn’t there. Except this wasn’t a 8 legged friend. You were seeing eyes glowing back at you as clear as the stars in the night sky. They weren't a beautiful shinny white, odd green or blue like a wild animal.. no a menacing blood red. This should've sent you flying up the stairs but they're hypnotizing persuading you to stay a little longer. It doesn't move making sure you know that it sees you too. With the obscurity of the lack of light you can't make up much apart from its eyes, too far away near a window to even see if the creature was inside the 4 walls of your home or outside. A light breath leaves your soft lips, you could feel the blood rushing in your veins the way your pulse beats. Hesitantly you turn yourself back towards the stairs. This time you do what you told yourself, what you should’ve done in the beginning. Walking up you forbid yourself from looking back, making your way back to your bedroom you finally crawl back into the cold sheets. Your Dazed, staring at the ceiling while pinching your own arm to make sure you weren't in a dream. You were convinced you had officially gone insane. Nightmares are one thing, hallucinations are another. Must be the lack of sleep. You landed on that excuse and finally after a few long dragged minutes you felt the heaviness of your eyelids stars to weigh themselves down. You let it consume you but peace didn't follow.

There's a thud making shuffle but it doesn't sound loud enough to make your eyes open wide. Just squint until inevitably you groan, choosing slumber over worrying. Sleep.

A whisper tingles the shell of your ear . A breeze makes you shiver subconsciously clutching the sheets to keep you warm. That masculine voice around your ear is back again wrapping around your brain like a blanket of safety and security. Something slithers inside your inner thigh, caressing, teasing the supple skin making your breath hitch. It was soft and felt so right. You craved more, opening your body and soul up to the feeling letting it climb up and take as it pleased. No hesitation just need. An offering is what you were, letting it build a home inside, beneath your skin, allowing it the privilege to consume you. And it did, a sharp sting your mind can't even process correctly develops somewhere in your body. A sound comes from your mouth but was it from pleasure or pain?

Your eyes scrunched, a groggy moan ripping from your throat out of frustration. The bright day light hitting your cornea forcing you to wake. Whilst sitting up you crane your neck back and to the side feeling a temporary relief. You shut your eyes, smiling from feeling so free. Even if you were sleep deprived there was some sort of energy helping you feel content. Opening your eyes you pulled the covers off, standing, it isn't till your changing clothes you feel a cold sweat invade your body. While lifting the weightless satin dress you see two bigger than normal bites on your wrist. You could've brushed it off as a bug bite, some spider but you knew that for it to hold validity the spider would've had to been a huge tarantula and craving human flesh or blood. You feel your eyes water, this wasn't caused by a human or animal. So like some afraid child you quickly make haste putting on the necessities skipping brushing your hair and run out of your room ignoring a light stench in the air because your father was of greater concern . It wasn't long till mid day surely he'd be downstairs. "Papa..?" You hesitantly speak once in the living room but only silence greets you. In desperation you go to grab the back door to check outside and you find it unlocked. It was already a weekday today you had forgotten, he was probably at work probably came home and left, that would explain the unlocked door. But he if made it home he would've woke you up early. He hates when you oversleep. There's many thoughts racing in your head as you pace back and forth. You'd just go to the last place you knew he had probably visited, the town.

The roads hug your shoes as you walk by the side walk. As each person passes by you ask if they have seen your father describing him even trying to show them a a picture from home but they all either ignore you or seem far too uninterested. You had wrapped your arm tightly with a bandage to cover your bite which you couldn't help but tug on. It was creating an uncomfortable friction. There was a familiar sign across the street the likes of the people were much kinder there, Genevieve was a great example. But you knew you father wouldn't be caught dead on the other side of the road let alone in a shop full of "foreign useless people". So You go inside the white owned shop instead knowing he'd surely buy his liquor here. While going in you hold the door open for a woman and her child, the child mutters a cute thank you which you try to reciprocate with a 'your welcome' but the mother gives you a nasty look tugging them away.

You stand there at the entrance a bit weary as you finally have to face the many side eyes people were giving you. A particular man stands out who was walking your way, a smile comes up to your lips, rehearsing your lines in your head but he makes contact with your shoulder roughly instead. There's a slight clench of your heart at this, but he goes on as if nothing, paying the cashier for his booze and leaving. Your left there looking stupid and lost. The past days had been miserable leaving you with little will. Should've gone home-should've just waited and stayed home. As you're beating yourself up you don't notice the cashier coming from his side of the counter to you. His kind eyes looking at you snap you out of your thoughts realizing he greeted you, even with a stutter you greet him back. "Is there someway I can help you?". The first person to ask, you try your best to not let your voice wobble, "I- yes.. I'm trynna find my father he's missin' ". He's listening to you muttering out a small, "that's terrible". " it is haven't seen him for days n' I've gotten concerned. But he's usually along these parts of town especially durin' the weekends so I'm sure someone has spoken to or atleast caught sight of him" while your rambling you don't see how he's luring you outside, using the fact you were following him to his advantage. His expression is one of understanding or so you thought, "look I'd really love to help you just can't be bothering the people in there". "I wasn't- that wasn't my intention I.." you realize what he's doing now, feeling the heat of the sun once more. There's a pause in the conversation both of you staring at each other. He simply tilts his head in 'I don't care what you got to say just leave I'm trying to be nice'. Then someone calls out to you from behind with cheerfulness, it isn't till you turn you see finally who it is. "Haven't seen you round' no more how has your chicken coop been?". Her warm voice provides some instant relief from the stress. You allow Genevieve to envelop you in her arms. You even squeeze a little tighter. "Don't come back near my store again or it won't be pretty" the sudden hostile voice of the once delightful cashier leaves you a bit angry but you don't voice it.

"It be best if we go back to mines," she grabs your hand leading you to the other side of the road but you dig your feet in the ground not letting her. Whatever it was inside you or around you it was always following not so behind form your last step. You didn't even know if whatever had bit you was contagious so even with her oh so soothing hand consoling yours you abruptly let go. "I can't.." she turns confused, "what do ya mean you can't?". The top of your teeth catch your bottom lip in a nice grip. For once in your life you wished she wouldn't be so caring so tender and concerned for your well being. "What's wrong?" Yet another question of hers that meets no answer instead you slowly add space even if it's a just a few centimeters. She sees the picture of your father in your hand and the way your eyes were on the brink of tears something was undoubtedly wrong.  "Girl don't be silly with me now n' answer me" she grew loud frustrated with your silence garnering attention from the townsfolk. Your hand fumbles with the edges of the band around your wrist. If she just knew maybe she could help me I wouldn't have to deal with this alone. It happened so fast her hand tugging the cloth , you pulling away in attempt to prevent it from slipping away revealing the two puncture wounds that were now accompanied with purple and yellow hues. You can't help but gasp slapping the skin, covering it with your hand desperately looking around.

Genevieve's eyes were wide a look of disbelief or was it fear overtaking her face? She had heard the murmurs of creatures far beyond the physical realm from her ancestors. When the two people from town went missing it was all the people around her could talk about . The creature with sharp teeth, serpent split tongue Who's diet consisted of consuming human blood.  It seemed far fetched but it was all true and now one of her dearest friends have come in contact with the being and bitten. Under her breath she whispered, "vampire".

You felt exposed like Eve had felt under the gaze of the lord in the garden of Eden; Shame, guilt and Alienation all in one. When you feel the cold tear run down your hot cheek is the moment you start running ignoring the calls for you to stay. The adrenaline pumping from your heart makes you run miles, with no brakes just your legs pushing till they finally make it to the only place that seemed to cause all these problems. Your home, but you don't go inside. Instead you go to your chicken coop wanting to be enveloped in its darkness, the constant patter of the chickens feet simulating a tune and the smell of pleasant must. It reminded you of Remmick. He'd surely come home soon and rid you of your worries, destroy the chaos. You sniffled into your shoulder, cowering like defenseless animal in the corner of the chicken coop. The small gurgles of the chickens offer you an environment to be able to sleep even if it was just pretend. You lose track of time, sun finally setting and wake up when you can't catch a break from the chickens pecking at your skin. The stiff chips of wood stick to your skin but you don't mind releasing them as you stand. With the small creak you stumble outside praying to find your pops car out front and his harsh voice reprimanding you for not having cleaned the house so you could erase the anxiety running rapid through your body as a terrible dream. There's no sight of any of those things though just the lousy cicadas in the night air.

Psst. The noise made you whip around only the darkness present. "Hello?" You speak daringly into the void of the night, heart thumping. "Still gotta work on the not jumping like a little rabbit every time ya'r scared" you can let out the trapped breath in your chest as you see a very care free remmick walk up to you from the outside of your fence. You would've gone to him in an instant if it weren't for the two people behind him. Noticing your hesitance to get closer he experimentally spoke, "brought some friends with me too if you don't mind". They were smiling warmly at you but it felt so empty, their faces reflecting that of the nullified night surrounding them. "Remmick-" you were about to tell him to make them go away, that you just needed a moment alone with him. The whole day you had been waiting. Though picking up on your distress he caught you off guard asking a rhetorical question, "is it the nightmares again?" . You foolishly try to answer "yes but-". "Well your in luck that's why I brought my good ol' couple from in town to try n' cheer ya up" as if on que the 3 of them readied their instruments ignoring your protest and they started playing. It was harmonic very beautiful but to you in this moment it sounded like sharp metal scratching on another metal surface. Undoubtedly Irking your soul. "I picked poor robin clean" the 3 of them sang at the same time but in 3 different tones that came together skillfully. "Picked poor robin clean". You bit your lip in bubbling anger their voices becoming more irritating than their instruments by the second. Certainly you'd explode into a fit of rage, we'll that was until the next line, "picked his head, I picked his feet, I woulda picked his body but it wasn't fit to eat". Their joy, their genuine smirks especially Remmicks when singing those words unnerved you. A jolly tone with odd words that traveled down your spine "oh I picked poor robin clean...

they continue, their words fade out in your head eyes unfocusing as you get sucked into the back of your mind where your thoughts remained. You didn't want to believe it or even consider the very fact that the young couple in-front of you could be who the towns people had whispered about like some sort of myth. If they were what was Remmick doing with them? Was he the one who terrorized them and their babe? your mind recalled many of the times you had found his behavior odd. He only met you in the darkness of night, disappeared during the day, he was the only one who had access to your home. The bruise on your arm he hadn't even pointed it out. He was innocent you pushed back against your thoughts. And you would prove it.

As their song comes to an end stillness hangs in the air. Remmick stands there waiting for you next move. Realizing how guilty you looked you tried to cough the hesitance stuck in your throat. "I never caught y'all's names". Having all 3 of their eyes on you felt like you were back in the town. Except this time it was much more carnal like predators surrounding their prey.  You shift on your feet, remmicks demeanor changing as he leans into the fence form the outside. The couple doesn’t answer just staring ahead as you hear Remmick chuckle, "well.. this right here is Joan and he, he's Bert". You feel your heart drop to the earths core at this revelation, face full of alarm. you try changing it but God knows it's far too late. He notices and knows that you know.

"Took ya so long" your confused at his words but he doesn't waste a beat to quickly diminish your doubt. "I was startin' to think that little brain of yours wasn't good for much". You're unsure if to be offended and hurl a venomous insult back or cower away . His body defies gravity for a second as he lifts himself over the fence standing between the both of you far too easily. "W-what did you do?" There's still hope inside you that this was just a big understanding. "What I do to them .. or to you?" He nudges his head behind him then to you. His eyes trailing up and down your frame until getting stuck on your wrist. This time you don't cover your wound unlike back in town. When his eyes finally lift themselves to yours you see them shine a deep red. The same deep red that tournamented you yesterday night and dreamed about belonging to that creature who sucked your thumb feverishly while his mouth was covered in your blood. A dream. you can't help the way your chest starts to constrict, eyes stinging. He lets out a cold laugh faux concern, "oh please don't cry doll I'll love it too much n' I'll just be forced to make more pretty tears come out of ya." As he takes a step forward you take a step back. It becomes a twisted game he enjoys while teasing your desperation. The sadistic way he showed worry yet loved your helplessness left you disheartened with the idea of this going back to normal. The way things had been when you met him"Stay away.." your voice is weak and wobbly, hands coming up to signal his halt. He doesn't listen leaving you back to the fence as your hand touches his chest. Remmick wasn't a tall man just average but when he got this close to you it made him feel giant. "Thats not what you wanted last night" his empty breath hits your face, an act you may have yearned for before but not anymore. There's a shudder running through you as he presses his body into yours, his leg between your thighs inching your skirt up. You turn your head in shame, knowing exactly what he meant. Despite the mental acknowledgement of the danger this man posed your body still desired him responding eagerly.

He thrived seeing you like this the woman so poised and respectful he had met in tears from her own disgusting desires. An infection he grew to become, corrupting not just your thoughts but body, mind and soul. Nothing could sadate his carnal lust just like you but he wouldn't get ahead of himself yet.

His hand drags your sight back to him with only a finger on your chin. Your pliant submission was back but out of fright not real trust. This time you notice his appearance change again apart from his peculiar eyes. The clear, thick liquid seeping from the right of his mouth. Spit. And the sharp fangs his k-9's became as he smiles at you. It clicks in your head the last words Genevieve had muttered out to you "vampire". You expect him to take a bite to end your life but instead he takes a step back leaving you to fend your weight against gravity. "Should go see if daddy's all good upstairs, haven't seen him out here all day" his voice drips with sarcasm. You take a step back expecting him to play with you more but he doesn't. While you slowly walk away, opening the fence door you take one final look behind him. The couple he had came with was still behind the fence sitting idly by as if they were hypnotized.

When your a good feet apart you dash inside and up the stairs having to fight the growing stink in the house especially when you reach the second floor. "Papa!" You call out to him , the hall seeming too dark and longer than usual. There was the adrenaline rushing through your veins that urged you to be faster . As your warm hands grab the handle of your father's room opening it wide the stench of death hits you before the sight. You have to cover you mouth from the smell and absolute horror. There was blood all over the walls, bed his body and his head... it didn't seem quite attached to the rest of him. Eyes wide in shock staring directly at you as if he had kept the face from probably seeing the monster Remmick was. You didn't let yourself see the specifics of the plethora of wounds on his body slamming the door shut. You have to fight the gag trying to push its way out from the bottom of your stomach. A light headedness winds you as your walking away hand over your stomach from the unsettling scene you had witness forever engraved in your brain. One wrong step as your going down the stairs has you tumbling down. You grunt and let the tears you have kept at bay finally spill rushing down with no limit. You weakly get up close to the kitchen table where the liquor from the morning still laid. Your heart clenched at the reminder of this bottle always being around your dad's hand along with his pestering. He may had grown rude and absent for most of your life but he would always be your father. The man who once was a child who did wrong but was still half of you. You bite you hand in an attempt to get rid of the overstimulation of your lymphatic system. Not caring if it drew blood. "The sadness will subside, will weaken with time. sacrifices must be made for freedom".

Your mood soured hearing his voice. He sounded like a fucking preacher what was he now your savior? Is that what he tought. That he had been doing you a service murdering your father like some wild animal with no dignity? There was an unexplainable fire starting to build in your chest. "I can offer freedom that never dwindles, never ceases to exist. Ya won't be anyone's caged bird anymore-". With not another thought you let your instincts take over swiftly grabbing the almost empty liquor bottle and swinging it behind you. He doesn't for see your sudden action not moving out of the way fast enough all you hear is a big thud. The bottle still gripped tightly your hand with no crack. His head is turned toward the direction of your swing, eyelids twitching as he seemed to be taking in the hit. You stand fiercely a mere a feet or two away. You expect anger a violent action back in response but instead he chuckles condescendingly. "you’re letting anger cloud your judgement doll" . You wished you would’ve never been nice to him, never let him in your home and watched him rot out in the wilderness. “Let that go” he commands seeing the way your grip on the bottle doesn’t lessen. “No..” your eyebrows furrow “ya just don’t get ta decide things for me, y-ya can’t just do this ‘didn’t ask for any of this! ” even through the sadness is still evident in your body, you still find your voice. His words your genuine protest made him displeased . He had seen you marble at utterly anything normal, his instrument, himself and the way you responded so sweetly to his touches. You were a bird in a cage. Your father had willingly created your life to revolve around him and he had simply given you the choice now to be with him instead. Were you just plain ol’ stupid? “Ya needed this, I saved you from your helpless nights, the endless chores, the boring ol’ cycle of your insignificant’ life became”. This is when you see him start stomping over to you with a glint of fire behind his eyes. “I didn’t need no saving” you spit out while your lower back was pressed on the floor able. He calms down before grabbing a hold of your jaw before uttering out, “oh my sweet little dumb thing, you do”. Those crimson eyes slice through your wrath realizing no matter how much you protested there was no way out of your predicament. No matter the many ways you sliced it he couldn’t be moved, like some heavy boulder restricting your path. “You all do..” his sharp nails dig into the skin of your cheeks making them sting. There’s a small but heavy knock at the front door that doesn’t make him react just letting your calmly go. Retracting himself from you he watches as you wrestle with the choice of opening the door or not. His look was forbidding but would require trust from you which he had run out of. It was ultimatum that hung in the air without being said , ‘open the door and your reject him or leave it be then open your arms to the sweetness of “salvation” ‘

Another heavy knock seeming more desperate had you turning and directly heading to the door not caring for Remmick any longer. You weren’t sure who you were quite expecting maybe a passer by, another stranger. “You had me stressing’ girl why’d ya not answer fast enough?” Her honeyed voice and her careful glance was such a contrast to the way you looked now. “My lords heaven’ what happened to you!” Genevieve tries to come inside and grab your cheeks now decorated with little droplets of blood streaming down. But you semi close the door on her not completely but just enough to stop her from coming in. “Gene you have to leave- you can’t be here” your hands shakes on the door knob. You didn’t want her to be affected by the consequences of your own actions. Seeing how far it got you father you didn’t want her to meet his same fate but she didn’t listen. “Look I know what I did back in town was horrid I truly apologize for that.” Every time you try to open you mouth to interject she elongated her sentence. “ I came here to make things right to make sure you okay and to say I can help you I know-“ she’s caught off being pounced on like animal by something or someone out of your line of sight with a thud. You were about to react until a hard hand comes to the door from your side slamming it loudly closed. All you are left to do is be willfully tormented by her screams of agony as Remmick locks the front door. “Promised my ol’ couple some food, they were just hungry as dogs” he says this sentiment with sort of lightness, even letting out a small ‘woof woof’. Your stomach twists in disgust and terror having to create distance between the both of you.

He tsk'ed in disappointment at your choice. Noticing your desire to push him aside he doesn't shy away from twitching his upper lip to show you his gnarly fangs. "What a shame I really did like Genevieve" he mocks you slowly moving forward. Another blow to the muscle pumping in your chest called your heart wetting your dry cheeks once more in tears. What would you say to her husband and her kid if you walked away alive. You wouldn't have the courage to look them in the eye and tell them about your cowardliness. How you watched their mother die whilst you were inside in the comforts of your home.

With a scream you rely on instincts jumping on Remmick . This time he expects your fit of violence being able to take your arms in his grasps. You try pushing and pulling to break free but nothing budges. He wasn't a big man so why in the hell could you not be strong enough to fight his hands? It looked like a dance you both were having with your twisting and turning making you really live out the ambiance of a juke joint wild but free. It isn't until your able to kick him that your able to make him loosen his grip to break away. His rough voice calls out as you dart to the kitchen trying to find something to arm yourself with,"All this fightin' wont end up pretty for ya" you ignore him now scowering the plethora of eating utensils in the cabinet. "givin' ya a warnin' you should really heed darlin' " his cockiness, the pet names is what you wanted to wipe clear from his face forcing his mouth to never speak again. You turn to face him standing in the middle of the room with a knife. Shiny and anything but dull. His eyes seem to light up at the thought of you wielding such a dangerous object. Not a spec of fear in his nonexistent soul as you walk up to him eyebrows furrowed, a scowl on your face and all. "Don't be silly and give me that thing" He had played this game before long ago. Your genuine hatred was being conveyed in one single long look, fingers clenching in dire need to cause damage. He extends his hand up for you to lay the knife in his hand to submit.

Instead once you're close enough with no hesitation you pierce his hand not just slashing but digging it in until you could see it from the other side. With haste you twist it back at him so the sharp metal is now threatening his chest. With a burn in your thighs and all your might you push forward successfully overtaking any attempt of a protest to your attack. There's a loud grunt from him as the fact the knife dug deeply into his upper chest. It's quickly overtaken by the fact he loses his balance, back against the small sofa sending him backward into it and taking you along with him. Somewhere while taking the fall you let go of the knife to protect yourself instead.  Winded you try to catch your breath looking over to the side you realized you had missed the edge of the coffee table by an inch. What terrifies you is seeing Remmick stand up, his unwounded hand grabbing the knife handle twisting out of his chest and hand simultaneously with a squelch. You think this is when he’ll get his comeback digging the knife into your heart as he stands above you. Bracing yourself your eyes close but instead you hear the cling from the knife being thrown aside. His Hands coming to the collar of your blouse lifting you up with no difficulty and harshly sending you crashing into the coffee table. The glass breaks instantly some of the wood creating a hard surface to simulate a hard punch to your gut. “Thought you’d be different but you’ve got a fire that never dies just like your mother”. He’s out of breath as he speaks and when he mentions the woman you have never met you wish nothing more than to commit cold blooded murder. Your hands extend in-front of you carefully to attempt to lift yourself up but his foot comes to press down on the skin on the other side of your palm. “she wanted nothin’ more than to desperately live that’s what made it so much more excitin’ to snuff her out”. You cry out in agony as the pressure of his foot causes specs of glass to carve a home into your palm. He decides it’s enough when you pathetically paw at his shoe. You’re able to take a glance at the disgusting wound before you’re being dragged from your collar again. No care for the way the destroyed table poked and burns your knees or body. He brings you all the way up to the wall facing the front door and forcing you on your feet. Your knees are giving out but he makes sure to hold you in place steadily by your neck

“What do ya desperately want hmm?” He teases with a tap to your cheek as he watches you became the defenseless rabbit he knew once again. Red teary eyes defeated just accepting what would be made of you just like your father and Genevieve. This sight arouses him inching his face closer he breathes onto you obnoxiously, “could’ve had so many delicious nights with ya stuck on my mouth oh do I miss your heavenly taste” you spit at him for talking about you as some sort of object. Realizing all those “dreams” you believed to have had were nothing of the sort. Just your mind trying to make sense of events happening to your sleeping body to warn you of the violating creature you’re ashamed to call a man infront of you at your wake. His wet muscle slides out from his mouth, tongue split in two like some sort of serpent to lick it up from the side of his cheek. A big grumble of satisfaction form his chest. “Now I need me some more”. His lips come to yours not in the doting way you expected your first kiss to be but hungry and lustful. You fight against him the sloppy kiss making spit smear all over your lips. Your teeth chomp down in order to make him stop biting his lip , hard.

he curses letting your neck go sending your sliding down. You thought of fighting again or fleeing but your body was far too tired. So instead You're stuck in place fighting the heaviness of your eyelids and tasting the irony substance in your mouth. He squats down infront of you with a lip decorated in red.

Forced you are to look at the man before you that you once considered a friend, dare you say lover, finding him to be completely unrecognizable. He fixes your sweaty blood specs covered hair whilst grazing your cheek tenderly like he had done a few happy summer days ago. "Every time you wake up in the mornin n' take a breath of fresh air, maybe even while looking at the sun setting with a child on your hip" he starts. The once gentle hands griping the back of your head, hair and all, harshly craning your neck back. You can't even let out a whine properly without your lungs hurting . " 'want ya to remember ya don't get to do that because ya were brave or strong enough" he can't help but grumble at the sentiment of you believing these things about yourself. His tone grows dark as he hushes the final dialogue onto you like something sacred only for you and his ears only.

"no ....it's because I allowed you to"

he licks a long stripe up your cheek relishing your sweet blood before he abruptly lets go of your head and leaves you helplessly on the ground. His light steps barely even leaving a track of sound in your ear drums as he opens the once closed door. He walks over your dead friends body only her legs visible from your spot. His body isn't tense, instead he strolls away with a pep in his step, the hat you had given him on his head and you can faintly hear him hum that song. Pick poor robin clean. As if it were a regular Monday night. As if he hadn't turned your life upside down just for fun. The couple from earlier appear from the sides of the door covered in blood Bert taking a hold of one of Genevieve’s weightless legs. Joan give you a smile and a wave with her sharp canines before they start walking away your friend dragged in the dirt along with them. You reap the consequences while Remmick was walking away Scot free. Your heart burns, skin boils, face scorns, mustering up all of your strength you let out a scream of pain, anger and agony all at once. Not caring if it scratched your throat painfully. He keeps moving unfazed until his body is a mere spec in your vision. Your Pathetically Left behind feeling the ache in your bones deep inside, the blood oozing out of your body the stinging tears trailing down your sliced skin. Choosing the mortal cage called your human flesh.

You knew he'd always be hiding in the shadows of the night, waiting, and in some twisted way that brought you comfort.

Authors note: this was so long in the making! I I tried my best to interpret the character of Remmick to the best of my abilities without having seen the movie. I apologize for any spelling mistakes and if you asked to be tagged but weren’t it’s probably because your acc didn’t show up when I tried tagging you. Apart from that I enjoyed writing this and I hope y’all enjoyed it too! :)

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Tags: @duckyhowls @seashelleseashellsbytheseashore @thecutestaaakawaii @akumazwrld

[mypoisonedvine]

𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻 𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘃𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿 | eddie munson x reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | based on a request from the lovely @ultraintrovertedgryffindor ; getting stuck in an elevator with his best friend (and secret crush) was absolutely not on eddie's morning agenda, but it leads to one of his most wild fantasies coming to life.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 3.8k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | SMUT (18+ only!! semi-public sex, oral m receiving, kinda pervy eddie but also slightly pervy reader with a balls fixation gee I wonder where that idea came from), best friends to lovers (but very very limited plot haha), pretty much exactly what it says on the tin y'all not sure what to say

Eddie laughed as he pressed his hands to the elevator doors, but it wasn't a laugh of amusement— it was exasperation, frustration, an is this really happening? laugh.

"Soonest we can get a crew out there is uhh... noon?" the voice on the emergency phone informed you.

"Noon?!" you yelped. "It's not even half past eight!"

"What did I tell ya?" Eddie recalled, hanging his head in defeat for a second. "Nothing good happens before ten."

"Just try to stay calm and we'll be there when we can," the operator suggested, like it was so simple.

You didn't even reply to that, just scoffed and hung up.

It wasn't like he'd been looking forward to his GED exam, in fact he'd almost been hoping for a way to put it off or get out of it... but this was definitely not what he was imagining. Of all the elevators to get stuck in, this generic government building where he was supposed to have his big test proctored was probably the most boring option.

He glanced over at you, and stopped himself from making a dirty joke: you heard that Aerosmith single, right? Love In An Elevator?

That probably wouldn't have gone over well. He used to say stuff like that when you were both a little younger, but he'd since given up hope of it ever actually... inspiring anything.  You two were probably better off as friends anyways; or, that’s what he told himself to make it sting a little less.

“Looks like we’ll be stuck in here for a while…” he mumbled instead.  “Did they say what the issue is?”

“Some kind of power failure?” you recalled with a shrug.  “It’s gonna take a while to fix, that’s the important thing.  Do you think they’ll call the fire department?”

“Who knows,” Eddie sighed, leaning against the wall as you sank onto the floor and dropped your head back against the wall.  “I guess we should just try to get comfortable.”

Which was easier said than done, but at least he was stuck here with you— you were generally pretty fun to talk to.  Of course, you weren’t exactly in your best mood due to the circumstances…

At 8:32, Eddie checked his watch.  “I’m officially late for my exam,” he noticed.

At 9, you checked your own; “And I’m officially late for work.  We'll see if I even still have a job when we get out of here," you groaned. "I was on pretty thin ice already."

By 9:14, the stuffiness of the elevator was becoming harder to ignore.  Eddie slipped off his jacket and vest in response to the heat, but resisted the urge to take off his Ozzy shirt. You'd seen him shirtless before, of course, but he figured out would be weirder without the right context.

"Fuck, it's hot in here," you whined quietly.

"I guess the power issue affects the A/C, huh," Eddie noticed.

"You think?" you scoffed, reaching up to unbutton the top of your shirt.

For some reason, he kinda liked when you were condescending like that; of course he loved it when you were sweet like usual, but when you got frustrated and sarcastic and looked at him like he was crazy... for whatever reason, it worked for him. And it was definitely working like never before when combined with your hasty efforts to open your shirt.

He expected you to stop after a couple buttons, but you just kept going, exposing more and more of your chest glistening with sweat. His eyes were glued to it, until you got low enough for him to see a glimpse of your bra, and he coughed as he turned his head quickly.

"Woah, hey, uh--" he stammered out awkwardly.

"Oh whatever, you've seen me in a bikini, it's the same thing," you rolled your eyes.

But it's not the same thing, because you were stripping, untucking the button-up from your tight skirt, fanning your flushed skin...

And he was tugging the crotch of his jeans down a bit when you weren't looking, trying to keep his oncoming boner from being too obvious. 

Leaving your shirt open, you sighed and sat down on the floor, splaying your legs out on the ground.  He could see how uncomfortable you were, and it made him press his lips together while he sighed through his nose.  Though he was a little afraid you weren’t in the mood for any friendly behavior as your frustration and stir-craziness increased, he walked across the elevator and sat down next to you.  “I was probably gonna flunk the test,” he decided.

“What?  No you weren’t,” you scoffed.  “You studied so hard!  I’m really proud of you, you know.”

“Just ‘cause we’re stuck in here doesn’t mean you should get all sappy with me—” he started.

“No— ‘cause we’re stuck in here I’m not gonna put up with you trying to be down on yourself,” you decided sternly with a little glare at him.  “You were gonna fucking ace it, I know you were.  You worked your ass off.  I know you wanted to act like you didn’t care, but you actually got your shit together and did it.”

“You… you helped me a lot,” he mumbled sheepishly.

“Please, I hardly did anything— mostly just kept you from getting too distracted,” you denied, blissfully unaware that he actually found you more distracting sometimes, but never minded it.  “Can you stop being a pussy and just admit you’re actually smart, and dedicated, and more than capable of nailing this?”

He blinked quickly and looked down into his lap, feeling his face warm up— not just from the heat.  How could you be so mean and nice at the same time?  

“And now it’s gonna go to waste, ‘cause of this godforsaken elevator,” you sighed, dropping your head back; a pessimistic end to a pep talk, but he couldn’t blame you.

"Think of it this way: it couldn't get any worse!" Eddie offered with a faux-upbeat tone.

Right then, the lights in the elevator flickered and turned off, plunging you both into darkness. "I fucking hate you," you announced after a short silence.

He heard a whirring sound from somewhere else in the shaft, and a dimmer orange lighting came on inside the elevator; some kind of emergency back-up generator thing, probably. It was enough to see decently well, especially as his eyes started to adjust, but still made it feel like you were both in an even more perilous situation.

“I didn’t sleep enough last night,” you admitted, “I might try to catch up on that.  Maybe if I can sleep this will go by faster…”

“I like that plan,” he decided, even though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to do the same.  Eddie had a hard time keeping still and quiet, but he managed to do it so you could get your rest.

He suspected you had fallen asleep when your breathing seemed to slow down a bit— but he knew you had when you limply slumped to the side, your head gently landing on his shoulder.  This happened every once in a while, a sign of how comfortable you were with him. He supposed he should be thankful for it, but sometimes it just made him furious. Because what cruel punishment was this, to have you lay on him like this when he can't put his arm around you and kiss your head and tell you how perfect you are?

The half-boner he’d wound up with earlier when you unbuttoned your shirt had never really gone away, and it noticed your proximity with renewed interest.  Maybe it was just because he was so bored with literally nothing to do but think about you, but his mind kept coming up with all these fucked up ideas based on the eyeful he’d gotten.  

What if you’d taken off your bra as well and let him see the tits he’d been fantasizing about for longer than he cared to admit?  What if this had happened in winter instead and the elevator was brutally cold and you two had to hold your naked bodies together for warmth?  What if that guy on the phone said this thing was airtight and two only had an hour to live and you decided you wanted to go out with a bang, literally?  

He wondered if he’d be brave enough to tell you how he felt about you, if either or both of you only had an hour left.  For better or for worse, this elevator shaft had airflow, so you were more likely to die of boredom than anything.

He shifted slightly, stuck in a somewhat awkward position, but it didn't help much— though thankfully it didn't wake you up, either.  He just wished he could get some relief, somehow.

Obviously, he knew it was a bad idea. But the thing about his dick is it usually talked him into some pretty bad ideas…

He tested the waters with a whisper of your name, but you just kept breathing slowly— you were out cold. Maybe you were even more nervous for him than you'd let on, if you were that underslept.

Reaching up with his free hand, all he had to do was grip himself through his jeans to get some relief; he sighed through his nose, shutting his eyes.

His cock flexed impatiently as he unzipped the jeans as slowly as possible to avoid making too much sound. But god was it worth the wait— as soon as he slipped his hand into his boxers he had to bite his lip, it was so good just to get some attention for his poor, lonely dick.

This was far from the first time Eddie had jerked off to the thought of you. But he was sure he'd never done it while you were this close.

He did it once or twice in your bathroom while you were on the other side of the wall, that was probably the closest he'd come to this before. And that was chump change compared to this-- this was so risky it made his heart race and his hands shake with adrenaline, but it only made him more desperate for whatever reason.

He wouldn't have swiped his thumb through the precum at his slit if he had known how good it would feel— or maybe if he'd known how good it would feel, he would've been able to prepare himself for it. But the anxiety of getting caught had made him even more sensitive, so he hadn't really seen it coming, and when he did it he let out a little moan through his teeth that he couldn't stop.

You stirred again and he froze; when you lifted your head off of his shoulder, he hastily shoved himself back into his jeans, trying to cover up the open fly with the bottom of his shirt.

“Were you… jerking off?” you realized, and he felt sick with fear as his heart raced like never before.

“W-what?” he scoffed incredulously.  “I— are you crazy?”

“Ed,” you warned firmly.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I— sorry—”

“Are you that bored?” you mocked with a snort, and he felt even more flushed; it made his cock flex under the mediocre covering of his shirt when you degraded him like that.

“N-no— well, yeah, I just— you put your head on me and I—”

“It was because of me?” you realized, and his mouth fell open.  He hadn’t realized that you hadn’t actually put that together yet; of course he’d ended up just digging himself deeper.

“W-well, uh— I mean, no, no I— well.  Kind of?”

“Kind of, as in…”

“Completely,” he blurted out.

You were quiet for a long time, and he couldn’t see your face well enough to even try to guess what you were thinking.  Although you probably could’ve given him a thousand guesses and he never would’ve guessed what you ended up saying: “You want some help with that?” you offered.

But before he could even answer— not that he really could, he was too busy having a short circuit in his brain— you were reaching for his lap.  And even if his mind was blown, his body knew to just lift his hands up and out of the way and let you do whatever you wanted to him.

You pulled up the bottom of his shirt and sighed a little when you saw his cock, still hard and leaking and curled up against his stomach.  You carefully wrapped your hand around it, and he swallowed thickly, wondering if he was dreaming or something— you were so… soft.

“Like this?” you asked gently, making his hips twitch up into your hand for a second.

“Y-yeah,” he nodded, eyes glued to the way your hand looked wrapped around him.  If only the lights weren’t out, he wanted to see it even better.

He looked at your face, moving your hair a little to make sure he could see you, but from what he could tell your eyes were trained on his lap.

“Fuuuck,” he whispered when you stroked him a bit more confidently.  He wanted to shut his eyes from how good it felt, but he didn’t want to look away from a moment of this in case you, you know, came to your senses and stopped.

“S’really thick,” you said, under your breath, a little bit shyly.  He groaned and ran his hand over your back, trying not to do too much in case it startled you but also totally helpless to how badly he needed you.  “I wonder if I can…”

You trailed off, and before he could decide if he should ask what you were going to say, you 

As soon as you leaned down and put your mouth around him, his back arched and his legs kicked a bit.  “Fuck, baby,” he choked out, melting into the warm feeling of your lips, your tongue— god, he couldn’t believe you were doing this to him.  He actually had to fight the urge to tell you so, to admit how much he’d imagined this; he settled for whining out your name and running a hand over your hair encouragingly.  “S’fucking warm, oh my god—”

You hummed around him, sucking a bit harder, swirling your tongue around the tip; who the fuck taught you that?  It made his chest burn with some targetless jealousy even while it made his cock flex proudly. 

Your hand still gripping the base, you took him a little bit deeper, moaning a little bit once again while you did it.  No way you actually enjoyed this, right?

You pulled your head up a bit— he took his hand away quickly, not trying to hold you down or anything— and just when he wondered if you might stop, you dropped down lower so you could run your tongue up from the very bottom all the way to his leaking slit—

“Jesus,” he laughed thinly, “what are you doing to me, baby?”

“Whatever I wanna do,” you replied— if he was a little braver, he would’ve asked what made you want this, how long you wanted this— but he was more than content to let you do whatever you wanted, so far you had some pretty fucking good ideas.

Your head sank even a little bit lower, and he pushed his jeans down just a bit in case they were getting in your way.  Boy, was he glad he did.  “Fuck,” he gasped, watching in shock as you looked up at him while your tongue ran over his balls.  “Sorry, they’re, uh, kinda sweaty…”

“Even better,” you purred; what the fuck were you doing acting so dirty like that?

“Baby,” he laughed thinly, “is this some kind of claustrophobia-induced psychosis or something?  Who are you and what have you done with my prude best friend?”

“Prude?  That’s unfair,” you laughed.  “Just ‘cause I don’t advertise every dirty thought that goes through my mind doesn’t mean I’m not as much of a freak as you…”

“Freak is an understatement,” he sighed, struggling to keep his voice even when he was literally watching you lick all over his balls like this.  “You’re a proper fucking slut.”

You hummed proudly, eyes getting a little heavier— when you looked up at him like that, he was totally helpless.  “It’s slutty to wanna taste your best friend’s balls?”

“F-fuck, of course it is,” he whined, cock flexing in your hand again when you licked a stripe up between then.

“Well then yeah, guess I’m a slut,” you agreed. 

“G-god, I— I’m gonna—” he tried to warn you, but it happened so fast— it happened the second you started to gently suck on his balls, in fact.  What was he supposed to do when you did that?!  How could he not shoot cum all over his now-definitely-ruined shirt?

“Oh shit,” you giggled— his cock was still flexing and you were already mocking him.

“What— what the fuck,” he began, trying to catch his breath, “made you wanna do that?”

But you were already straddling his lap, pulling up your skirt to your waist.

“F-fuck, baby, I— are you seriously—?”

He cut himself off and whimpered when he got a good look at your panties, the cute lacy kind— and pretty fucking soaked already.

“I-I don’t have a condom,” he warned you, cursing himself inside for finally throwing out the one in his wallet thinking he would never end up needing it.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, pulling your panties aside and guiding his tip right up to your entrance.

“Fuck, that’s—”

He was gonna say it was insanely hot, but you hardly noticed; you were already sliding down onto him, taking him in one motion right to the base.

“Oh fuck!” he nearly shouted, gripping hard onto your thighs.  “F-fuck, you’re so tight, fuck…”

You started moving right away, grinding on top of him for a second before lifting your hips and bouncing up and down.  “Fuck,” you sighed, “so deep…”

Was it wrong that he loved the way you were basically just using him?  You hadn’t even let him finish his sentence, you didn’t ask if he could handle it right after coming— you just started riding him, and far be it from him to complain about that.

“Take this off,” he pleaded, tugging at your unbuttoned shirt and trying to push it off your shoulders.

You helped him get it off, and before you’d even tossed it off to the side he was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra.  The gods of bra clasps smiled down upon him that day, because he was sure he’d never gotten one open so quickly, and if there was any time he really needed it, it was now.

“Fuck,” he groaned when he got a good look at them— not good enough in this dim orange lighting, but it would do— and instantly got a hold of your chest.  You didn’t seem to mind the clammy hands, considering the way you whimpered a little and clenched inside around him.  “God, baby, your tits…”

As much as he’d been waiting ages for a chance to see you naked, he couldn’t deny you looked way too good with the skirt, stockings, and heels still on.  He could already tell this was going to give him a complex.

He ran a hand up your leg as you moved just to feel the silky nylon; god, he hoped you didn’t get fired for the unexplained extreme lateness, if not just for your sake then so that you would keep dressing like this every day.  “So pretty,” he sighed, wondering if you could see in the dark how totally in awe he was of you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, in that way he’d always imagined you would in a time like this.  Your head fell back and he couldn’t help but reach up and grab your neck— not applying much pressure, just holding you there, just admiring how goddamn perfect his hand looked wrapped around you.  

“You’re so fucking sexy,” Eddie sighed, “fuck, look at you go.”

You smiled a little, he could see it even with your head tilted back like that, and it was just amazing seeing you so… free?  So relaxed and totally shameless, giving in to your pleasure.  But it wasn’t enough: he wanted to see you lose all your composure, he wanted to hear you scream his name, he wanted to make you shake and cry and beg— that was why he grabbed a tight hold of your hips and pulled you down onto him, bucking his hips up to meet you halfway.  It forced his cock even deeper and you yelped a little.

“Not too big for you, is it?” he taunted.

“No, fuck, s’perfect,” you moaned, your voice deep and rough and so fucking beautiful like this.  “Fuckin’ perfect, Ed, o-oh god—”

“Keep saying my name,” he ordered.

“Eddie,” you said, again, but this time all needy and cute; it just made him fuck you harder, biting down on his lip to muffle some of his own noises— he just wanted to hear you.  He pulled you down and hugged you close, keeping you still so he could fuck up into you exactly how he wanted; you moaned right by his ear, fuck it was too precious.  

“I’m already close again,” he admitted with a thin laugh.  “Fuck, look what you do to me.”

You whined louder, clenching on his cock— he seriously did not know how much more of this he could take.

“Wanted you so bad,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself, “wanted this for so long.  Wanted to fuck you— I wanna make you come, fuck, please, please come.”

He felt you nod against his shoulder as you gasped, and he shut his eyes tight, just focusing on his movements and trying his best not to speed up too much just to chase his own high.  He needed you to come more than he needed his own pleasure, even if everything in his body was screaming for a chance to come inside you. “So close,” you panted, “fuck, Eddie, don’t stop— please don’t stop— yes!”

The lights turning back on suddenly startled you both, making him freeze and look around (and squint a little from the brightness), but that was nothing compared to the shock of the doors opening.  Behind them was mostly just concrete, the space between floors, but up top was about two feet of the eighth level, where a crew of firefighters could be seen peering in.

“Are they alright?” someone from the building asked as Eddie scrambled to grab his jacket from the corner and cover you up with it.

“Yeah, looks like they’re doing just fine,” one of the men announced as they broke out in surprised laughter.

[beloveds-embrace]

Neglected omega reader who got taken care of by someone else. Nikolai or Konig. The drama ✨✨

I hope i did KorTac justice, I’ve never written them before except König lol @nightunite pspspsps i have nikto crumbs 🙏🏻

Neglected omega reader p1 + p2

KorTac had always liked you.

From the very first moment they’d met you, they’d been drawn in- pulled by the quiet gravity of your presence and the sharp edge of your competence. You were quick on your feet, sharp with a knife, steady under pressure. Smart and resourceful in a way that demanded respect.

But more than that?

You had heart.

You’d been assigned to their unit during a joint operation months ago. Just a temporary deployment, only meant to last a few weeks, but it had been long enough for them to notice things- little things they hadn’t been able to forget.

The way you’d patched König up without hesitation after a mission went sideways, hands steady even as blood slicked your fingers. The way you’d shared your rations with Horangi after a supply drop came in light, brushing off his protests with a stubborn glare. The way you’d sat quietly beside Nikto on watch, not asking questions when he didn’t feel like talking but always ready to listen when he did.

They noticed you, and they liked what they saw.

Liked the way you worked. Liked the way you took care of your team without ever expecting anything in return. Liked the way you carried yourself- confident but kind. Fierce but soft.

But you weren’t theirs. Couldn’t be.

You belonged to 141, and KorTac had backed off, unwilling to overstep boundaries when you already had a pack waiting for you at home. They’d told themselves it was fine- they were fine- watching from a distance.

But then you came back.

Alone.

Hollow-eyed and sharp-edged, moving like a ghost through the halls of the base, and suddenly?

All bets were off.

The first time König sees you in such a state, it’s in the corridor outside the mess hall.

You don’t look up when he walks by, don’t even seem to notice the sheer weight of his presence as he slows, lingering just long enough to let his shadow stretch over you. You’re leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together, arms wrapped tight around your middle, shoulders curled inward. Small. Smaller than he’s ever seen you look before. Smaller than he’d ever thought he’d ever see you.

His instincts itch- Omega, alone, hurting- but you’re not his. And still…

His eyes track the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your clothes hang loose, like you’ve been skipping meals. He scents the air. Picks up the faded traces of peach and rose, but there’s something sour underneath- bitter and wrong, like spoiled fruit. König’s stomach twists.

It’s the scent of neglect.

You should never have looked like this. You should have never smelled like this.

Not you. Not the Omega who had once dragged him out of the line of fire without hesitation, barking orders and holding the line until reinforcements arrived. Not the Omega who had once laughed with him under a tin roof during a monsoon, eyes bright.

The smell lingers after he walks away, clinging to the back of his throat like smoke. But it’s the emptiness of it- the hollowness- that keeps him awake that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering which one of those 141 bastards let their Omega rot like this.

The next time König sees you, it’s in the armory.

You’re cataloging weapons, checking and re-checking the tags with mechanical precision, but your hands shake when you reach for the next one. Just a little. Just enough for him to notice.

König moves closer. Quiet, but not too quiet- he doesn’t want to startle you. You don’t look up until his shadow stretches over your workbench, and when you do, the look in your eyes hits him like a gut-punch.

Flat. Guarded. Resigned.

Like you’re expecting him to scold you.

König’s heart cracks wide open. He grips the edge of the table just to keep from reaching out.

“Doing good work.” He says softly, and you just blink.

It’s such a small thing- barely even a compliment- but your throat bobs like you’re swallowing something down. Then you duck your head and go back to your task, not looking at him again.

But you don’t flinch.

Not this time.

Nikto is next, and he doesn’t hesitate.

He remembers you. Remembers the way you’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the rain, eyes scanning the horizon with sharp focus as you both waited for the enemy to make their move.

You hadn’t been scared. Not even a little.

And now?

He catches you outside the rec room, sitting on the stairs with your knees drawn up to your chest. You don’t even react when he approaches, just keep staring at the floor like it might swallow you whole.

Now, you look like you’re drowning.

So Nikto doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t say anything. Just crouches down beside you and sets a cup of coffee at your feet before walking away.

You stare at it for almost five minutes before finally picking it up.

The next morning, he does it again. Same cup. Same coffee. Same wordless offering.

It becomes a routine- something quiet and steady, something you can rely on when everything else feels too heavy.

And then there’s Horangi, who pushes the hardest.

He pushes, because he knows you can take it.

You had before- back when you’d yelled at him for ignoring orders and running off alone, eyes blazing as you shoved him back toward the evac point. He’d liked your fire back then, liked the way you didn’t back down even when he towered over you.

But now?

Now your fire’s gone out, and there’s only one group to blame.

So Horangi pushes. Tests the waters, pokes at the edges, trying to find the spark he knows is still there. He is the loudest of the three, sharp and quick with his words, but he also knows when to keep them soft. He finds you cleaning your gear one night and sits down beside you without asking.

“You missed dinner.” He says casually, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it onto your lap. Pushing past the bubble you’ve wrapped around yourself, yet not being overbearing or too much.

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not your Alpha,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me.”

You close your mouth. Look down at the protein bar. Then, without a word, you tear it open and take a bite.

Horangi grins. And just like that, he’s in.

And when you finally- finally- smile at one of his jokes?

He knows he’s got you.

141 starts noticing the shift almost immediately. Soap catches König lingering near you in the gym, eyes following the curve of your spine as you stretch, and something inside him snaps.

Ghost sees Nikto brush his fingers against yours when he hands you something, and his jaw clenches so tight he can hear his teeth grind.

Price overhears Horangi making you laugh- a real, honest-to-God laugh, a sound he can’t hear any longer even in his dreams- and has to excuse himself before he says something he can’t take back.

It gets worse when your scent starts to change; the bitterness fades first, then the sourness.

The first time Price catches a hint of warmth blooming underneath, it stops him dead in his tracks.

Because it isn’t for him. It isn’t for them.

It’s even worse to know that they drove you to it, and have no one to blame but themselves.

They let you fall through the cracks. Let the weight of their own issues and distractions leave you stranded in the dark, too far away for them to pull you back when they finally noticed you were gone.

And now? Now KorTac is picking up the pieces, with no hesitation.

König steadies you. Makes sure you eat, makes sure you rest, makes sure you feel safe even when the world outside is crumbling. Doesn’t push you away when you, big hand lingering on the curve of your spine until his scent is left there.

Nikto grounds you. Offers quiet comfort without demands, without expectations. Makes sure you know he’s there, always there, steady and unshakable. A lighthouse in the stormy seas, the hand that pulls you out of the swirling ocean.

Horangi pushes and pushes. Draws out smiles and laughter, reminds you what it feels like to be wanted. Finds excuses to bump shoulders or brush against you when you pass, just to see if you’ll let him.

And you do. You let all of them, slowly greeting them with the quietest little purr (cat activation noise).

Because it’s easier to be wanted by them than it is to be unwanted by your own pack.

And slowly- so slowly it hurts- you start to come back to life; your scent changes. Softens. Warms. The bitterness fades and the sourness disappears.

And all they can do is only watch as König takes the space they abandoned. As Nikto feeds the hunger they ignored. As Horangi brings back the fire they let burn out.

And they can’t do a damn thing about it.

Because the truth is- KorTac wanted you from the start, and now that they’ve got you?

They’re never letting go.