#mark s.'s in particular makes me laugh because like. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

last-words-ofashootingstar · 10 months ago

Text

Allure

Part One:Sunshine

❥MATZ x fem reader

Kim Hongjoong and Park Seonghwa. The most known and feared alphas of the new generation. It took two dozen elder alphas to subdue them and stick them in the world's most secluded prison- hidden away in the mountains. The prison that sweet little omega (Y/n)'s works at.

Knuckle Velvet (Part Two)

Smoke (Part Three)

➯a/n: i've always wanted to write a story i would like to see as a movie or show, and i very much enjoy supernatural and dark romance, so i made this ! it does get very dark so please read the warnings and take care of yourself first and foremost. i am very proud of this, i hope you enjoy 💕

✃ "Because you're... alluring."

✫彡wordcount: 9.3k

♫"Hey, you should leave that young thing alone, ain't no sunshine when she's gone, only darkness everyday." - Flower Face (original by Bill Withers) ♫ Allure Sountrack

(>ᴗ•)♡´･ᴗ･`♡genre: smut, YANDERE, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠWARNING/content: DEAD DOVE I MURDERED THAT BIH

chapter specific: literally what have i done, not beta read(ironically), criminal MATZ, alpha MATZ/omega reader, forget everything you know about werewolves, so much world building, extremely yandere behavior, talk of attempted child murder, class division of werewolves, panic attacks, vulgar language, mind control, lots of scent stuff, unhealthy relationships, ptsd, flashbacks and nightmares, physical violence, manipulation of others dreams, supporting character death, forced soul bonding, forced marking, reader implied to have mental health issues, murder, gore, violence- all that good stuff. THIS IS NOT A NON CON FIC ALL EVENTUAL SMUT WILL BE CONSENSUAL.

⁂perm taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan @marievllr-abg

⁂fic taglist: @potatomountain @spooo00oky

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE ˚➶ ｡˚

You hate weekdays. That much is true for a lot of people. You like to think your reasoning is especially valid.

Every Monday through Friday like clockwork, 6:30AM you walk into the prison. That on its own wasn't so bad. You lived only ten minutes away; the gothic building looked over your village in tandem with the mountains. You could see it when the weather was clear, even from your bedroom on the edge of town. You were no longer afraid of it like when you were a child.

You are, however, afraid of the newest prisoners.

New arrivals didn't usually rock you. This is the only prison in the country fit to hold lycans, after all. They all got transferred here eventually. From beta's who were just stealing to eat, to alphas who used their powers on humans, to those who believed in the old ways and fed on humans.

You had to interact with them all face to face.

You weren't excited for that particular aspect of your job this week.

You made your way through the double doors and greeted the security guard, your friend Hyolyn, as you went through the metal detector. It went off on account of the scent blocker that was embedded in your neck. She chuckled and switched it off so it stopped its incessant beeping.

"Don't laugh at me!" You threw a smile her way as you got your small purse from the plastic bucket she slid towards you. She doesn't bother to check your bag. She knows you well enough to know you wouldn't bring in any "fuck shit", as she would say. "You alpha's don't have to worry about accidentally spewing scent everywhere."

"Thank goodness for that, this place would stink to high heaven." Her unintentional reference to the new arrivals makes the air turn stiff. She could tell you were on edge immediately. "They aren't all that scary," she lays a comforting hand to your shoulder as you fiddle with the long strap on your crossbody bag.

"I heard one of them killed Alpha Greene... you think that's true? That guy was huge, I saw him at The Thing last year, I almost peed myself cause he looked at me-" You stop your own rambling, taking a deep breath and letting it out as a shaking sigh. "I don't want to go in there. Honestly, why can't we install a laundry chute or something, fuck."

"I'll follow you up, I c-"

"No, no, it's visiting day. You need to be down here. You know Chungha? Her daughter is visiting today. Don't want you to miss her." You offer a sad, tight lipped smile, but that doesn't trick her instincts to protect her weaker pack member. She knows you too well to be tricked.

"You just scream and I'll be there. Either of those cocky fucks lift a pinky in your direction and I'll gut them. They don't deserve to see a trial anyway."

A small exhale in the form of a chuckle lightens her protective instincts, she can tell you feel more at ease with her promise to be right there at the slightest hint of trouble.

"See you, Hyolyn."

"Later, babes."

You wave your fingers with a smile as the elevator doors slides shut. As soon as they clunk together, you let it fall and crouch with your head in your hands, taking in deep and slow breaths as you try and force all of the rumors you've heard about the two newest inmates away from your head.

The older alpha of the duo was the first born in this generation. They're always powerful. But he was born to two bloodthirsty rouges. Born in sin and blood lust.

The younger alpha was born just some months after, to an arranged marriage that was purposefully formed to make powerful children. They surely regret that now. Some say the man has the strongest, sharpest claws since the first lycan in Talbot Castle.

When the elevator dings, you're already upright and have that strong facade on that you put on when you're clocked in.

˚➶ ｡˚

You start with the familiar. "Hey, Chungha," you tap on the silver bars of her cell, "hand 'em over." She smiles as she stands, stripping the sheets from her cot and holding them through the bars for you. "Thank you," you draw on with a tug on your lips that matches hers.

"Yunnie in town?"

"Mhm," you hum as you fold the blanket before dropping it in the large basket on wheels, "she came over for stew, I made sure to feed her good and well, don't worry."

You know it was probably problematic, but you couldn't help it. Chungha came here three years ago on a charge for battery, and over those three years you became sort of friends with her.

The battered in her case was her grandfather. When her five year old daughter, Jiyun, started to show signs of being an omega- he left her in the snow to wither away. She managed to survive until her mother came home, and said mother was furious.

She was lucky she didn't charged with attempted manslaughter.

"She said she'll be here first thing."

"Thank you," she had a heavy pull on her voice. You don't have the emotional connection to other wolves like an alpha or beta did. But it was clear to anyone she was being sincere. "You're a good woman."

"Don't mention it, Yunnie is good company. Oh," you start to wheel the basket away when you remember something. You reach into the purse that you had set on the handles. "She made this at art class, asked me to give it to you so it didn't have to wait in processing."

It was a small, cruelly made ceramic bowl in the vague shape of a heart. It was clearly made by an eight year old, but made with love.

"I owe you."

"Just keep working on that parol work." You said lightly and blew a kiss as you moved to the next cell.

The rest of your work nearly cleared your mind as you went from cell to cell, floor to floor. Omega's were on the second floor. Beta's on the third. Alphas on the fourth. High security on the fifth.

It's on the fourth level that you begin to feel those nerves that you had just worked away. The scent was becoming stronger. They didn't put them on blockers? Maybe they didn't think it would be worth it. Everyone knew that they were the worst of the worst, they didn't even try to hide it. They would undoubtedly be put to death. Why waste two perfectly good, expensive, blockers?

The basket of used sheets is nearly full, accumulating into a weight that makes you put your back into it as you push it into the elevator.

Your index finger reaches out, and before you can stop yourself you've pressed the button to the fifth floor.

You blank out until the door opens again. Your teeth are eternally grateful for the gum between them so they don't grind themselves into dust. The mint flavor does little to calm your nerves.

The only thing that makes you come back to your own head is Changbin. He's a big, buff beta with a gun full of silver bullets on his work belt. He won't let them hurt you. His smile washes away a lot of the nerves.

But the growl that rumbles against the walls makes them return ten, one hundred, one thousand fold. You don't dare say a word. A deer in headlights until Changbin places his hand on the small of your back. "Go on, don't give them the satisfaction of scaring you. They aren't going nowhere no time soon. Take a look."

He motions you deeper into the hall, florescent lights buzzing above you, matching the jittering feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach. It smells too strong. Too much. You're about to fall to your knees from the weight and you haven't even come face to face with the near feral criminals.

Changbin opens the doors at the end of the hall.

They've definitely gone all out to keep them in place. Two large cages placed next to each other in the middle of the enormous room. Made of pure silver and wrapped in wolfsbane. The unpleasant smell of the plant makes your nose twitch. A ring of blood ash surrounds it. Only omegas can pass through blood ash, and now you start to realize why they sent you.

You want to curse the warden, but the second you open your mouth, a loud cackle sounds out from one of the cages.

Changbin's hand twitches at the gun attached to his side.

"Oh wow," the smaller alpha chuckles, eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sniffs the air. "I didn't expect that." More manic giggles slip past his lips.

You haven't even looked up to see them and you want to cave in on yourself.

"What are you rambling about, huh?" The guard next to you shouts, making you flinch instinctively.

"That sweet... sweet, smell," he moans. You can hear him shuffling. "From a peppy little spit fuck omega."

You gasp abashedly, and now two laughs ring out. You want to wonder how they can smell you. Your insurance provides the best scent blocker in the country. But you're too scared to breathe, let alone think.

"Shut up," Changbin groans, he can feel you tense next to him, "don't piss me off, Kim."

"Awe," a new, rumbling voice makes you cower the second it reaches your ears, "this your mate? Hm, no... you wouldn't bring your mate here. You're not an idiot. Then, say... omega." You don't make a move to look when he addresses you, you stay looking at Changbins grip on his gun, silently.

"Omega, come!" Your feet move for you, and that manic laugh almost makes you wet yourself as you realize that your wolf is making you move toward them without your consent. You stop just outside of the blood ash, where you know you're safe.

"Changb-"

"No. I'm the one you're speaking to."

Changbin seems to be weighing his options, eyeing the men as they eye you.

"Why are you here? You a shrink?"

You shake your head.

"You a lawyer?"

Again.

"She works here, dumbass, look at her scrubs," the younger speaks, and you nod subconsciously, to which he giggles, "what can we do for a pretty little thing like you?"

When you refuse to speak, the guard does it for you. "She's here for your sheets today. Get used to her."

You hated that this was your job, but it was easy and accessible, and available for omegas. Werewolves are clean freaks. Every day you had a different cleaning task, but you didn't complain. Not until right now- you wanted to rip out the throat of whoever's idea it was to not shoot these criminals on sight.

"Ah," he hums, and you can feel his eyes raking your body. You can feel both of their eyes. "Not too bad of a sight to get used to. Huh, Hwa?"

"Mh, that's right... can't wait to get my hands on her."

Your head snaps back to Changbin.

"Awn, she thinks he's gonna help her!" The high pitched giggles bounce around in your head. "Oh, little omega~"

The saccharine coo finally pulls your eyes to the men in the cages.

If you thought you knew what fear was before this moment, you were wrong.

The two strongest criminals in the country, staring you down like a piece of meat. It doesn't matter that they are the ones in cages of silver and wolfsbane. You are the one who feels cornered.

You can immediately feel out their dynamics. The taller one is the older one, quiet and still in his cage as he sits in the center. Shaggy, shining hair framing his face and neck like an elegant piece of lace over a brides face. He has a sleeve of tattoos on one forearm, a thick tattoo on his neck. Eyes glowing a deep, blood red, as he tries to read your entire story with only a look in your direction.

The giggling one is less intimidating, only by a hair. Chemically lightened locks pushed back messily, letting his entrancing features shine in the light from the narrow windows high on the walls. He has tattoos as well, but they seem few and far between. His eyes are human for a moment before they meet yours. Instantaneously, they flick black.

The knot drops from your throat and you let out a small, pathetic, squeak.

Changbin breaks your staring contest with the alpha, shouting orders at them. "Take the sheets off your cot and set them outside of your cage. Do not attempt to touch her, I will shoot you."

Neither criminal makes a move to follow his orders, both simply staring at you.

A low growl is emitted when the older alpha finally snaps up, tearing the sheet off the sorry excuse for a bed in one fell swoop. The younger follows his lead, shoving their sheets through the bars that are wrapped in the poisonous flower.

You look to the guard, and he nods, "go." With his finger twitching at the gun ready to pull it, you jump over the dark red ashes and into the wolves den, snatching the sheets up as quick as possible and dashing away, out the door before they even get a chance to lock in your scent up close.

The giggles follow you all the way to the elevator and ring in your head even as the thick metal thunks shut.

As you take a deep breath, you notice the sheets are gripped to your chest, your claws drawn subconsciously in your panic and ripping them up. "Shit!" You let out a curse and shove them into the bottom of the basket so you don't have to smell it as closely on the long ride to the basement.

˚➶ ｡˚

The lingering wafts of your fresh scent are long gone, nothing to distract the alpha's from their caged boredom and bubbling rage over being caught. "I'll have that runts heart in my hands by the end of the month." Hongjoong groaned, to no one in particular- he knew Seonghwa was too deep in thought from their recent revelations. "Fucking back stabbers. They're more pathetic than a bitch in heat trying to get off with a dildo."

The thought hit his mind as soon as the words left his lips.

The thought of you, legs spread with your hand dipped low, trying to satisfy your primal urges and-

"Stop that." Seonghwa growls, kicking the bars of their shared 'wall'.

"Settle down!"

"Oh, like you weren't thinking it!" Hongjoong rolls his eyes, a scowl on his face as he crosses his arms. "Your ruts coming and you don't want your-"

"I said stop," he nearly roars, grabbing Hongjoong's state issued orange top and ripping it with his claws as he pulls him forward.

"I know you want her because I want her too." He whispers, smirking at the telltale signs of desire and bloodlust in his mates eyes. Red swirling around the brown of his human eyes. "Imagine how good she'll smell when we take out that stupid blocker. We'll be drowning in her scent." He moans, grabbing his wrist, "I get the honors, my claws are sharper, anyways," he draws them quickly, digging them into his skin as if to prove a point.

"I can use my teeth, mark h-"

"Oh, will you two stop? Love of God..." The guard in the large room slaps his book down on the rickety table. "What is there possibly for you to be fighting about? You're about to be executed, you know that right? No jury in the world will let you walk, especially the human half."

Their frustrations turn to the man, letting each other go. "Ah, you think so?" The older croons, dragging his index over his bleeding wrist and bringing it to his lips, sucking it clean before he continues. "We won't be around these parts long enough to meet the jury."

"What do you mean by that?"

Hongjoong covers his mouth when a laugh slips past. Seonghwa simply smirks as he sits cross legged, eyes locked with the guard as he licks his wound.

"What do you mean by that?!"

The blonde man breaks out in a fit of laughter. The brunette simply flashes his bloody canines in a twisted smile.

˚➶ ｡˚

You spent the whole time doing your daily tasks trying to hype yourself up to go back up to the fifth floor.

You usually went top down, four to one. Nobody has ever been on five before.

You go bottom up today, starting at Chungha with a full basket of freshly washed sheets. She prattles on about her visit with Jiyun, and how she's so thankful for you.

You choose that as your focus point for the rest of the work day, even as you press the button to the fifth floor.

You think back to the first time you spoke to Chungha, she was a crying mess, unable to sense that you were an omega like herself. She cried and cried and cried as you held her hand through the bars of temporary holding. She cried for her daughter, for cursing her with the shame of being the weakest link of any pack. When she looked up and saw your eyes, barely glowing, she cried more.

She apologized profusely, but you reassured her that her words were true, and you hadn't been offended. You told her that, in fact, she was the first to ever share your feelings of what being an omega really meant. It meant loneliness beside anyone but other omegas. Fake relationships born with people who only stuck around because of their primal instincts to either prey on you or protect you. It meant facing the fact that you were outcasts from both of the world's dominant societies. Outcasted from humans for being a werewolf. Outcasted from werewolves for being weak. So weak, in fact, that blood ash didn't even think of you as a wolf.

That night, you drove four hours to the next village over and looked after her daughter until her aunt had room. You remember the first thing the girl said to you. She didn't speak that whole day, surely in shock from the past few days events. But when you tucked her into the motel bed, she spoke as soft as a ghost, "sing me a song?"

You hum it to yourself now, the soft sound reverberating through the metal around you until the door opened.

You wheel the basket with you this time, like it will protect you as you approach the open doors, already feeling the unwavering gaze of the criminals.

"Hey, dolly~" Hongjoong, you had learned when you took a peek into their files, purred your way.

You didn't give him the satisfaction of responding verbally, but he saw the goosebumps on your arm as you reached into the basket, stretching on your tip toes to get the last two sheets.

"You never shut up do you, Kim?" The guard sighed with an exhausted tone, making you smile as you slowly made your way to the ring of red dust.

The throaty rumble from Seonghwa, the older, taller wolf, makes that smile drop to the depths of Hell.

The new guard seems to notice your anxiety, eyeing you up- in a much less predatory manner than the caged men. "Go on, 'mega. I'm watching them."

A bang on the metal bars makes you glue your foot right back where it came from. It's the blonde one, "you shut the fuck up!"

"No, you shut the fuck up! I'm the one with the silver bullets!"

All of the yelling is making you tremble, Hongjoong and the guard going back and forth. "She isn't your omega!"

"She ain't yours!"

Seonghwa watches with a sinister smile as you back away from the ash and the guard, calling to you quietly, "hey."

The soft tone of his voice makes you raise your eyes, but not your head. His eyes don't hold that threatening and dominating red from before. They're a soft brown color that reminds you of a beautiful dark oak in the morning sunshine. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)..." your tongue moves without your consent, fresh blankets held to your work scrubs.

You desperately want the guard to notice this trance you're in, and grab you out of it. You want to do it yourself, but you can't do anything but admire the beauty of the criminal who has you hypnotized.

"You're a pretty omega, y'know? What color is your wolf?"

"Black..." It's a slur off your lips, barely registering in his sharply tuned ears over the yelling that continues to fill the room.

"Mine too. What's her name? His is Akma."

"Solis."

"Very pretty. Is she fast?"

"Yes."

"Does she want an alpha? A mate?"

"Yes."

The guard finally notices your raised gaze, affixed to the infamous, unlawful, man. He puts his gun back in the holster quickly before gripping your shoulder and forcing you to turn around. "You idiot, didn't anyone ever tell you not to look a first born in the eyes?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry." No one had ever told you that, actually.

Both of the criminals share a smirk as the man from your pack attempts to calm you. It wasn't hard for them to figure out you were an alpha-less village. They could smell every single wolf in five miles, and not a single stench from a wolf even nearly as strong as them.

There was, however, you. A honeyed smell that filled their guts with the primal need to rip out the eyes of anyone who dared look at you.

The guard couldn't be more wrong. You are their omega. You just don't know yet.

"Go and give these fucks their sheets, then get the hell out of here." The man shoved you, making you jump clumsily over the ash so you didn't break the seal.

He yells at them to back up, and they do so without a fight.

You shove them both in at the same time before running back out quickly, grabbing the empty basket and dragging it with you, the sound of the wheels scraping with the force of your panic echoing in the near empty room.

"You guys get off on scaring defenseless girls?" The guard scoffs, not expecting an answer as he drags the chair out of the room and slams the doors behind him.

Seonghwa lets his facade fall the second the door shuts, falling to his knees and grappling at the sheet like he's a starving man with the last piece of food on Earth. Hongjoong watches for a moment in confusion until the scent catches up with his weaker nose. Then he's quickly falling in the same position.

"It worked, the guard was so easy to distract," Hongjoong chuckles, face buried into the sheet that smells vaguely like you from your time spent holding it. "What did you learn?"

"(Y/n), a black wolf named Solis," he pauses, eyes rolled back as he takes a deep breath. They're red when they re-open. "No mate. It's really her."

"You think we should have told her?" Hongjoong inquires, looking through the bars.

He's never seen Seonghwa on his knees for anyone but him or the moon.

"No," he shakes his head, turning to lock eyes with him. "She'll figure it out when I mark her."

"When I mark her."

He rolls his eyes at his defiant nature, knowing full well he won't disobey his orders no matter how badly he wants to do something.

In a dog eat dog world, the strongest was the most powerful. Unlike their human neighbors, werewolves don't decide political or social standing by money or family name. They decide based on who comes out on top in a battle of the body and of the wits.

It had been determined years ago, when they were just young rebellious pups, that Seonghwa was the alpha. A fight in the woods under the moon had set it in stone between the two.

He could have ripped Hongjoongs throat out right then and there, but now, 13 years later in the present; they're bonded for life.

Sometimes he still sees Hongjoong as that 12 year old boy under his teeth, still snapping and growling even as he bled out with tears in his dark eyes, fighting to survive purely out of spite.

"You can mark her first," Seonghwa speaks quickly, turning his back as he puts the sweet smelling sheet on his cot.

He smiles at the man, a quiet thanks spoken through their bonded souls.

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday, they don't see you until much later in the day, but they bask in the sight of you opening the door with a broom and tray in hand, smiling at Changbin. You'll be here for a while, it's a big room.

"Hey, Binnie," you whisper to the beta, and Seonghwa has to bite his tongue.

Binnie? Ugh.

Hongjoong isn't so polite, "hey, Dolly! We don't get a hello?" You barely peek at him, eyes flicked from him right back to the floor in a millisecond. He knows you noticed his pout when he hears the smallest 'hello' tremble by your lips.

You start in the corner, headphones attached to your walkman with your favorite song on repeat to try and soothe yourself. Bill Withers calming voice blocks out every word of the teasing alphas, but you can still feel them mocking you and picking at you.

You don't dare sweep anywhere near the blood ash on the floor. One less precaution in place was one more thing to worry about.

"Bye, Binnie."

He does growl that time, eyes narrowed on your back until the door shuts.

˚➶ ｡˚

Wednesday, you have a frown on your face. "Three days in a row?" The guard Hongjoong got in a yelling match with, Merle, greets you as you come into the cavernous room, "bad schedule huh?"

"No kidding," you sigh, feet slightly hesitant to pass the dust border, "I'm here to fix your shirt. It's state property." You don't look at them, but they know who you're referring to.

They act like they don't, though. Just to hear more of your voice. To make you wriggle under their attention. "Sorry? What do you mean?"

You look and point to Hongjoong, his collar ripped from Seonghwas grasp. "State property."

"Ah, of course." He grins like a jackal, pulling it over his head and sticking his hand out of the bars just in the slightest. "On one condition."

You pout, eyes on the shirt which is just far enough away that you'd have to step closer. And it's the cutest fucking thing they've ever seen.

You look back up at him, silently asking. "Sit and talk with us. The guards here are no fun!" His laugh makes you jump back further, he sounds like a mad pirate.

You look over to Merle, who just shrugs, "just get it over with so these guys will shut up. They're only talkative around you, they need an audience for their antics."

"We won't bite," Seonghwa chuckles with his teeth exposed, making you shiver.

"Fine, give it here." You take a single step forward, palm out infront of the blonde.

When you grab it and go to race away like always, his claws wrapping all the way around your wrist stops you, sharp edges threatening to slice your skin down to the bone. You scream your head off, silenced when Seonghwa coos softly, "sit with us, and talk."

"Let me go..." you plead, eyes frantically flicking to Merle, whose gun is drawn to Hongjoongs head from the border of the ash, waiting for him to take one more wrong move so he can rid the world of one of its greatest criminals.

"Sit, omega." You do so, slowly lowering to the floor with your wrist and life still in Hongjoongs hand. "You have your sewing kit with you, I can hear the buttons hitting the needle. So sit, stay, and talk while you fix it."

Once again, they're the ones caged in. But you're the one who's stuck.

One look to Merle tells you he probably wouldn't help you even if he could get to you. He lowers his gun as your tailbone hits the concrete floor.

Your thin work scrubs do little to fight the cold of the old flooring, one reason of many that you shake as you reach into your purse and get the small tin box.

Hongjoong releases your wrist and sits mirrored to you, hands perched on the bars in the gaps of the purple vine flower wrapped on them. Seonghwa comes to the corner of his side of the split cage and breathes in deeply through his nose, eyes locked in on your every movement. "So you're essentially the errand lady? Maid?"

"Yes..." You murmur under your breath as your fingers work to thread the needle, slowly backing away until you're out of reach, but still stuck in the blood ash with no one to rescue should the men infront of you decide to rip their cages open. You only stop backing away when you hear a warning growl.

You don't care to see which it came from, you just want to do this as quickly as possible and get far, far, away. They could have chose anyone to focus their annoying efforts on. Changbin, Merle, the warden. But no, just your luck.

"You live in the village, right? Were you born here?" Seonghwa continues to do the talking as you carefully fix the shirt.

"Yes. And no."

A small hum from the one in front of you is a sign they want you to continue. "I was born to an overpopulated pack. They kicked me out when I turned eighteen. Our old alpha took me in." The hitch in your voice is a clear sign that it's a sore topic. And Hongjoong continues to poke the wound.

"How did they find you?"

"Woods."

"Woods?"

You can't help the small growl of frustration, lip curling as you look up. "Woods."

The reaction is one you wouldn't have expected from a normal person, but then- they aren't normal.

They laugh, cooing over your gesture of anger. Compared to them, you seem like a teacup puppy. "My, my," the brunette chuckles breathily, "is that Solis coming to play?"

"At least she can," you snap, sent to the back of your own head as your wolf tries to defend you, "she isn't a caged mutt."

Hongjoong breaks out into a manic fit of laughter, while his paramour is the opposite: his eyes flick red before your own, sharp teeth on display in a show of dominance over your smaller ones that are subconsciously bared at him. "Watch it, omega." He spits his words with venom, "I won't be so nice when I get out of here."

You rip the extra thread with your claw, kicking the shirt across the floor so it sits at the bottom bar of Hongjoongs cage. His chest still wracks with laughter, watching as you sit up in a low squat so you're still level with the alpha.

It's clear that you aren't currently you. Your wolf has control of your mouth and body, crouched in a position akin to that of a dog ready to pounce as you hiss your words, "I'm going to laugh in your face as you hang."

"Aw, is that how dear old alpha died?"

"Cut it out!" Merle screams disinterested, eyes glued to his flimsy magazine.

"I heard he got gutted~" Hongjoong giggles, watching the color flicking in your eyes.

"I'll gut you!" Your threat only makes him laugh more.

"(Y/n)!" The voice of Hylyon breaks your wolf away from you immediately, falling to your bottom and crawling to the sound unwittingly. "You fucking idiot, Merle!"

She reaches over the blood ash and pulls you over the ring, letting you collapse into her as she drags you away, still throwing profanities at the incompetent guard. Hongjoong is laughing loudly. Seonghwa yelling at you to come back. The elevator cuts of his roar, the last thing you see through your blurry vision is his fist making a dent in the silver cage.

You fall onto the floor of the metal box. Thoughts flood your head too quickly for you to swim though them, making you drown and try to escape by releasing the pain with tears. You don't even notice when your friend turns her key in the elevator to make it stop in its tracks, you only see her when she sits right infront of you.

"Babes, calm down, I've got you," she reaches out slowly and places a hand on your leg, slowly rubbing her thumb over your knee.

"I can't go back up there... they're too strong, they make me feel like I'm suffocating," you splutter through gasps, "I'm too weak!"

"Hey, hey, you're spiraling!" She opens her arms and pulls you into her, letting you sob into her uniform. "In and out, girl," she holds the back of your neck securely, almost instantaneously making you calm. "I got you... I got you..."

You sit there for a good while, crying into her shoulder as you sort through your wracked brains.

Your alpha was gutted. Right in front of you. Because of you.

Unbeknownst to you, their tuned ears are still listening in, the elevator stuck within their ear shot as you begin mumbling your favorite song to yourself through tears.

˚➶ ｡˚

The sound of claws slicing through the skin on your back rings in your ears. Though, you can't feel it. Your eyes are locked in on your own claws, dug into the hardwood floor of your humble home to keep yourself from being dragged.

You've been here a million times before.

Blood pooling off of your body and onto the frigid surface below you. Teeth sharp and bared to the moon though the open window, begging that she might let you survive. Eyes aglow with your instincts as your wolf tries with every fiber of her being to turn, but she knows it's no use.

The distorted voice above you drips with mocking venom, a chuckle as its owner realizes you can't even fight back like other wolves might: by letting your wolf fully transform.

The wind blows through your curtains, washes your body in the artic breeze. The snowflakes on your windowsill are so delicate, all of their features fade into a blurry mush as they make contact. They melt, dripping down your wall.

This time it's different.

You're turned over, gaping wounds slammed into the floor as always, but when you look up to your aggressor it's different.

His eyes aren't the yellow of a rouge, but the red of an alpha. His hair isn't that unruly blonde curl that you pulled at frantically, that you can still feel on your finger tips when your hands are unoccupied. It's long, shining, soft looking dark locks.

You fall through the floor into another time, another place.

Face first into the snow: your hands, shaking with adrenaline, do little to catch you.

You don't remember this.

This isn't right.

This isn't your nightmare.

You find yourself in a clearing in a forrest, the densely packed trees creating a bubble of nature around you. "(Y/n)?"

You whip around, coming face to face with an unfamiliar man. Almost face to face. If he weren't floating a few feet in the air.

His legs are crossed under him, hands facing palms up on his knees.

"Don't worry. You're only dreaming." He speaks calmly as he floats around you in a circle, like a shark examining its potential prey.

You follow him with your feral gaze, that familiar feeling of an adrenaline crash quickly approaching.

You know you're only dreaming. You've had that last dream more times than you can count in the past three years. It always plays the same. But not this time. You're only slightly thankful that you don't have to witness your alphas death again, but the gratefulness is overshadowed by confusion.

"Are you an angel?" You whisper, watching the man's soft and rounded features as he comes to a stop in the air in front of you and gracefully lowers to his feet.

"I can be, if that's what you want me to be. I'm only here to watch your dreams, fight off the nightmares."

"Why?" You feel distant from your body, watching powerlessly as your hand takes his, letting him lead you out of the clearing and into the darkness of the woods.

It disappears around you, warping into a spring day on a familiar path.

"A favor for a friend."

With the snow gone, you're in your spot, your old towel on the dewy grass with a book laid atop of it and the soil beneath your feet as you approach.

"Enjoy."

The hand vanishes from your own, leaving you alone on the side of the path. You look for him. But he's just an eidolon, watching you from the sky where you can't see him.

You warily take a seat and pick up the book.

˚➶ ｡˚

They don't see you again through the week. And when the next Monday comes by, their sheets are removed while they're in the showers.

Hongjoong sighs from his place on the floor, for the tenth time in the past half hour.

"Hong-"

"I miss our omega!" He whines, cutting him off.

Seonghwa stands from his cot, slowly lowering to the floor next to their shared bars. He lays flat on his back, mirroring Hongjoong as he tilts his head to look at him. "Soon." Is the only word he utters.

He reaches through the silver bars, ignoring the sting as the fresh wolfsbane brushes his wrist, and takes his hand.

The both of them look up at the ceiling through the bars of their enclosure.

Your scent is long gone from the room, and their noses can barely pick up on it through the rest of the village and prison.

"I want out of here," Hongjoong whispers, so lowly that the guard can't hear him from outside of the door, "when are they coming? Your bond with them is stronger, I can barely feel them..."

"Soon." He repeats, "very soon, Joong."

˚➶ ｡˚

Tuesday you manage to talk your coworker into sweeping the top floor, and you rejoice in the freedom of not being under the alpha's gazes. You've worked out a good schedule to completely avoid seeing them, and it's made your job feel like it's back to normal.

You can still smell their power wafting through the AC, but it's bearable. You distract yourself in your free time by making excuses to be on the second floor with Chungha and the other omegas.

Today, that excuse is 'omegas need physical outlets too', and the warden let you bring up buckets and brushes so you could all scrub the base boards.

"Oh, I've got one!" The omega to your left speaks, lifting his brush in the air in a eureka moment, "Texas Chainsaw Massacre or... Halloween?"

Chungha scoffs with a smile as she scrubs away to your right, "are we including sequels? There's like a billion!"

"No, stand alone original," Beomhan goes back to scrubbing as he continues, "both of them are classics but which one is a better classic?"

"Halloween is the classic slasher, Texas Chainsaw is like psychological horror," you chime in as you dip your brush into the bucket, sitting on your calves as you take a breather. "I think it's not fair to compare them... but Texas Chainsaw, definitely."

They laugh along with you, and Chungha shakes her head, "Halloween has more rewatchablity. You don't want to see Sally go through that more than once, but Laurie Strode fights harder and it's more like, yeah I'll watch her kick ass again."

"Cinematography in both is so beaut-"

The lights above you flicker before they shut down completely. People start muttering their concerns, quite a few of them looking your way. "Don't worry!" You hop up and get your keys from your pocket as you make your way to the locked stairwell. "I'll go and see what's going on, keep scrub-"

A loud siren echoes in the brick walls, shocking you all to cover your ears.

Everyone looks to you for answers, and you don't have any as your brain starts throwing theory after theory at you.

"It's okay, go back to your cells! Shut them behind you!"

They listened, however grumpy about it. The cell doors locked automatically when they were closed.

"Hey, what's going on?" Chungha asked over the clanging of the cell doors. The two of you, along with Beomhan, were the only ones left after a moment.

"Go back to your cell, Beomhan, hurry."

"No, what's happening?"

The sirens cut off and leave you in a pregnant pause for a moment as you simply try to calm yourself.

A deafening scream ricochets through the air vent next to you, scaring you into their arms as you all stare at it.

Usually, the air flow covered the echoes throughout the floors. But with no power, you could hear everything- albeit muffled.

Yells and shouts. Gunshots. Growls. Unidentifiable chaos. And above all, your ears tuned in on a rumbling, calm voice through it all.

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... It's not warm when she's away..."

Your eyes widen as theres a bang at the stairwell door. "Go, go!" You grab each of their wrists, dragging them into Chungha's cell. You slam it behind you and let down the sheet she has over it, backing away and staring at it as you hear the door hit the wall behind it with the force it's slammed open.

"(Y/n), what the hells happening?!"

You slap your hand over his mouth and bring a finger to your lips. The other omegas on the floor are all making a ruckus, and you can only hope that it will confuse that unfortunately familiar voice so he can't find you.

˚➶ ｡˚

The beta in the large room ignores Hongjoong as he continuously asks after 'the pretty omega'.

He just sweeps and sweeps, finally understanding why you hate coming up here. He has his back turned to the cage, and consequently, to the windows.

High on the tall walls, the narrow glass is opened from the outside. Seonghwa smirks, and gestures his head to it. Hongjoongs gaze follows, and he has to slap a hand over his mouth so he doesn't laugh.

A skinny figure is sliding its way in through the window sideways.

He drops to the floor as silent as a mouse, landing on his knees and grinning wildly up at his alphas.

Hongjoong throws his head back in preemptive relief, while Seonghwa is watching with a similarly wide smile as the man walks straight through the blood ash, breaking the circle with the tip of his shoe.

The worker still has his back turned as the lock on Seonghwas cage is picked with a long claw. He doesn't even know what's happening as the next thing he knows, he's thrown across the floor.

Blood ash knocks up around him, coughs wracking his body as he looks up to his assailant.

Park Seonghwa, newly freed from his cage, looks down at the worker with his eyes glowing red.

"Now usually..." He begins, crouching to be face to face with him, "I'd go through this whole place just for the fuck of it and cause some beautiful chaos. But I'm looking for someone."

"(Y/n)?" He stutters out, backing away only to knock into Hongjoongs legs. Stuck between the two criminals, he chooses his own head over yours. "The second floor! Sh-she's on the second floor!"

"Let's go get our omega, Joong."

Nonchalantly, Hongjoong draws his claws and slices the neck of the worker. He hops over the gurgling body and follows his mate with an ecstatic giggle.

He wraps his arm around the skinny man's shoulder, "Wooyoung! Our savior~" He ruffles his hair and laughs as he groans.

"You guys know I've got your back. Seonghwa told me about your new omega, you seem excited," he mimics the alphas smile as the eldest of the trio opens the doors.

The guard on duty, who happens to be Merle, looks back with wide eyes.

"Yes, oh yes!" His eyes roll to the back of his head, touching the stitches you made on his shirt. "Oh, you'll love her, she's a feisty omega just like you."

He makes a run for the fire alarm at the end of the hall, but Seonghwa is faster. The beta is tackled to the floor.

"I'm glad you both will have a buffer, tired of you always at each other's throats during ruts," Wooyoung laughs, looking down at the guard as they pass.

Seonghwa had simply torn out his throat with his bare hand and made his way to the elevator, holding it open with an impatient glare.

The door closes behind them and the only sound is Seonghwa's heavy breathing.

"You're real eager, huh?" The omega breaks the silence, "San should be coming in any second to block the main door. No one will get past him. The rest are in the village, just as we planned."

"Good, she'll need somewhere to rest before we take off....Fucking idiots, thinking they can cage us." He groans, eyes flicking to the number above the doors as it dings.

3? "Fuck."

The door opens and the woman on the other side takes a moment, nearly walking in before she notices the crimson liquid dripping from Segonhwa's hand.

She makes it halfway through the hall before Hongjoong pounces on her, fighting her effortlessly as if she's a rag doll. The guards run to try and save her, but it's too late for the unfortunate woman, and they just signed their own death certificate as well.

Seonghwa and Wooyoung make quick work of them, but their plan is already foiled as the lights flicker to a halt and leave them bathed in dim light of the setting sun in the few windows.

The alphas fall to their knees as their sensitive ears are bombarded with a loud, incessant siren.

"Wooyoung!" Hongjoong screams over it, "go turn that shit off!"

He nods, taking the keys off a mauled guard and dashing to the stair well, leaving it unlocked behind him.

Hongjoong crawls to Seonghwa, collapsing into his chest with his teeth clenched and palms over his ears. His ears were always more sensitive.

His partner places his hands over his, thumb running over his own. He looks down with his eyes glowing red, meeting pure black.

He leans and kisses him deeply, all teeth and bloodlust, trying to merge their souls until the sirens cuts off.

Their foreheads rest together, ignoring the chaos of the beta's around them yelling to be released.

"Are you ready?" Seonghwa whispers, gathering another set of keys from the fallen workers. He throws it to one of the locked in prisoners, a smirk on his face. So much for not creating chaos.

"Let's go," Hongjoong holds the door to the staircase open and lets him go first with a dramatic bow.

It takes one scream to start the havoc. The entire prison is filled with the sickly sweet sounds of caged animals with a taste of freedom. Gunfire and howls bring a smile to Seonghwa's lips as he sings out,

"Ain't no sunshine when she's gone... it's not warm when she's away..."

He hums the song with a wide grin as Hongjoong kicks the door. It takes only one more kick before it slams open and bangs against the cement wall.

The omegas in their cells are all yelling at them, at one another, in general.

Hongjoong kicks one of the many buckets on the floor over and groans, "here I was thinking she'd make it easy. I guess we'll have to go cell to cell!" A small spike of a heartbeat in his ears makes him smirk, following the sound that he memorized the first time he'd heard it.

Seonghwa follows him, immediately zeroing in on the same cell. He comes to stand infront of it, his breath making the blanket behind the bars sway slightly.

You see both pairs of orange slip on shoes and you feel your heart stop in your chest.

You cower further into the corner with Beomhan as Chungha stands in front of you. The sheet is grabbed from the outside and ripped away, making you all shriek.

"Were you playing hide and seek?" Hongjoong giggles, throwing the blanket to the side with his eyes never leaving you, a scowl growing on his features as he notices the way you're curling into another wolf. "You should know better than to hide from your alphas. Come on out."

You shake your head, gaze lowered as you hold onto the back of Chungha's uniform.

"(Y/n)," the saturnine man speaks, "come here."

"No, leave us alone! Leave me alone," your voice cracks despite how strong you want to appear.

"If I have to drag you out of here I will be very angry. Just come on, do us all a solid."

"No-"

"Open the fucking door!"

"No!"

The cells were built to hold lycans, which means lycans shouldn't be able to get in... right?

"Fucking-" Seonghwa hits the bars, leaving a dent and making the three of you jump.

Hongjoong leans on his tiptoes and whispers into his ear, and whatever he says makes his eyes begin glowing a murderous red.

He slowly wraps his clawed fingers around the bars, and the way Hongjoong backs up makes your stomach churn in anxiety of what's about to come.

And it was warranted anxiety.

With a loud growl and a single tug, he rips the silver bars from their cemented place in the wall, causing a large crack to form.

"Holy shit!" Beomhan screams, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Chungha is ripped from the small room and tossed all the way across the room, back colliding with the wall and leaving her unconscious.

You yelp as Beomhan meets a similar fate, torn from your grasp and out into the rec room like he's a mere bag of trash. You see Hongjoong approaching him with his long black claws out and proud, but your vision is blocked by the large alpha infront of you.

Your hips back into Chungha's small desk, and your hands clamber around, landing on something small and solid.

You swing it at his head and he ducks, grabbing your wrist and dragging you out of the small cell. You manage to swing again, making contact with his head. The small ceramic bowl shatters into pieces and leaves him only temporarily stunned, glaring down at you.

"Fucking stop," he growls quietly, shoving you to the floor.

He lets you shuffle away, only because Hongjoong is right behind you.

The blonde chuckles, pulling you back up by your collar and crashing you face first into one of the round steel tables bolted into the floor. "Ow!" You yell out as your head makes contact, fighting against him with all your might, but it's fruitless.

He kicks your feet apart and stands between them, leaning his chest over your back. You can feel his nose against your neck, over the healed skin above your scent blocker. You snap your eyes shut and do the only thing you can thing of.

You can't fight. Begging to these men would be useless. You can't disappear into the floor like you wish you could.

"Please, Selene," you pray to the moon, tears slipping past your shut eyes as you feel the claws of the mad man on your neck.

You cry out as the other worldly sharp nails slice into your neck, slowly and almost surgically. His other hand is cupped on the back of your head, keeping your head pushed into the cold metal. "Shhhh," he gushes above you, "it's okay."

Seonghwa sits at one of the bolted stools and rests his head to mimic yours, cheek on the table. "We'd've been more gentle if you listened, omega."

Between the tips of his claws, Hongjoong holds your small alloy scent blocker. Almost instantaneously, your natural scent floods their senses.

Their deep rumbles of pleasure make you snap your eyes back shut, missing the way Hongjoong stomps on the device.

"Fuck," the wolf behind you curses, body pressed close to yours like he wants to fuse together, he places his hands in yours and tells you, "you might want to squeeze."

"Wh- ah!" Your scream echoes over all of the other chaos as his teeth sink into your left shoulder, and you do just that. Your clawed hands squeeze around his, sharp nails knocking together as you hold on like his hands are the only thing keeping you from slipping to the underworld.

It feels like a million pins and needles washing over you, leaving you paralyzed in place as he purrs into the wound, making your bones vibrate.

A warm, comforting hand on your cheek makes you force your eyes open. Seonghwa smiles sweetly, like he isn't witnessing one of the biggest crimes in the lycan community.

Forcing someone to be your mate for the rest of your mortal lives.

"Breathe, omega," his words make you realize you're holding your breath, and you let it out as a sob. "That's it," he hums, rubbing his hand down your head with all the gentleness he's capable of.

Hongjoong pulls away with a moan, resting his head between your shoulder blades as he catches his breath.

Your wolf is already calling for her mate, howling in the back of your mind as you cry.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of you." Seonghwas words have little time to register in your adrenaline filled head as he turns your head the other way and climbs up on the table.

It hits you when he moves your ruffled shirt away from your right shoulder. "No! No!" You find yourself with two million pins and needles in your body now, squeezing Hongjoongs hands all over again as Seonghwa sinks his teeth into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

They're bigger, or maybe they only feel that way because your body is on fire. You sob freely, feet stomping pathetically to cope with the pain.

What little comfort you find in Hongjoong squeezing your hands back is washed away by the simple fact that it's him. That blood from his claws drips onto your skin.

It feels like a century later that the older alpha finally pulls away, a bellow of pleasure as he runs his thumb over the wound: making you jump.

"Your turn, omega."

The weight of their bodies is gone, but you can't bring yourself to move. Out of fear, maybe. Pain, perhaps.

"You know what happens to wolves who don't finish the bond." Hongjoong purrs teasingly, knowing full well that you will have to mark them back least you want to suffer at the hands of the moon herself.

A life with them was better than being turned inside out and left to the elements. Just barely.

You lift yourself on shaking arms and nearly fall as you turn. You would have if not for Hongjoong catching you. He lifts you back to the table much gentler, letting your legs dangle as you sit on the table top.

"Why... why me?"

"... Have you heard of Harry Talbot?"

"Harry Talbots a myth... what's he got to do with your fuck shit?"

"Harry Talbot was the first wolf that could smell his mate. He could tell just by her smell, they were meant to be." Hongjoong slots his way between your legs, smiling down at you with his bloody teeth, "her smell called to him. It wasn't just good. It wasn't a normal scent. It was...alluring."

You were growing dizzy, head spinning.

"Strong alphas can sniff out their true mate. And, baby, we're the strongest that there is."

You have to force yourself to swallow. Have to remember to breathe.

"Why? Because you're... alluring."

That's the last thing you can register before your world turns dark.

˚➶ ｡˚ PART ONE END ˚➶ ｡˚

#yandere fic #smut fic #ateez fic #yandere ateez #park seonghwa #yandere seonghwa #ateez matz #kim hongjoong #yandere hongjoong #ateez smut #ateez x reader #matz x reader #hongjoong smut #seonghwa smut #yandere ateez x reader #yandere x reader #yandere werewolf

1K notes · View notes

gingerrgen · 2 months ago

Text

reunited

Ellie x f!reader

📝: Ellie and you reunited in more than one way...after a long time of not seeing each other 🍷

tw: kisses. making out. smoking. reader and Ellie mid 20's. suggestive?

you lived in Seattle with your roommate Dina. Dina was outgoing and social, meanwhile you were introverted and more reserved, that doesn't mean you didn't have your own fun of course, but Dina always wanted to bring you with her to a party or a night out with the girls

one night you were chilling in your room, dim light and calm music on the background as you did your skincare when all of a sudden Dina barges into your room "come ooon! let's go to Jesse's party! you'll enjoy it!" "I don't know Dina...im not in the mood"

She looks at you with an annoyed expression but then her eyes lightened up "you know who's going to be there?" she says with a small grin on her face, you look at her a little confused "who?", her grin widens a little "Ellie. Ellie Williams", her words made your heart drop to your ass

"Ellie...?" Dina nods excitedly at your question, you analyzed the situation for a second when your eyes go back to Dina "so?", you open your mouth to speak but words didn't came out after a moment "sure, I'll go"

_________________________________

you stand in the porch of the house, looking at the door thinking if it was a good idea to come, Dina was long gone by now, you were on your own as you step inside the house; loud music all over the place and there she was...Ellie

you saw her, she looked the same as you remembered her, that short brunette hair, those emerald green eyes and that stupid flannel shirt she always wore...she was beautiful. Your gaze meeting hers, you act nonchalantly as you walk toward her, your dress flowing through the air as you walk

"hi" you said looking down as if you were trying to avoid the awkward moment, Ellie just smiles at you, her warm and welcoming smile "how've you been?" you speak again, "good...it's got to see you", her words making you melt, "wanna go outside?", a smirk appearing on her face as she nods

outside you feel the cold breeze of the night brushing through your body, Ellie sits down in the step, so do you; you take small sips from your cup "so..."

"what do you wanna talk about?" she says as she takes out a box of cigarettes, you look at her "nothing in particular" "you mind if I smoke?" she asked and you shake your head allowing her to smoke, she looked so hot and the light of the moon added to her beauty

after a while of talking you said what you wanted to tell her the most

"I missed you, you know?" "You did, huh?", you look at her with a soft expression "didn't you?", she smiles at your question, she nods "I came to this stupid party just because Dina told me you were coming" "you came here just for me?", I laugh sheepishly "yeah..." "why me?", her question caught you off guard "last time we saw each other we...confessed our feelings, it marked me, you know?" "it know...you should've contacted me", her words making you a little sad now "I didn't knew if you really wanted me too, I don't know, stupid thoughts" "you're a dumbass, you know?" "maybe I am" you said laughing softly

"Wanna go to the room?" your question taking her by surprise, "Jesse's room?" you nod at her question, "lead the way"

the two of you went upstairs through the drunk people and loud music, as soon as you get to the room you close the door behind you, just Ellie and you in the room, alone. Your cheeks getting a little hot as the seconds passed by, you can see Ellie's a little nervous and excited too, feeling like a teenager

"I know you want it too" you say looking another direction from hers, "this is an unfinished business...from when you left" the sight of you in front of her made her knees fold, she starts walking towards you "is that all it is?" "you tell me..." you tell her looking at her predator eyes "you really want me, after all this years?" "of course Ellie..."

her hands around your waits pressing your bodies against each other as her lips touch yours in a deep desperate kiss, your kiss transforms into a make out session, your hands grabbing her face not wanting to let her go; she push you on the bed crawling on top of you pinning you down on the bed as she kisses down your neck

"I'm gonna show you how much I missed you"

that was a long night reuniting with an old "friend"

________________________

a/n: guys I think I'm really bad at writing smut fr, I just can't make it as detailed as I want to 🥲. Also sorry if it's kind of a cliffhanger 🐞

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie willams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #gingerrgen

211 notes · View notes

sickeninglyshoujo · 11 months ago

Text

a/n: continually obsessed w/ cod dads, here's price

part 1: simon here

part 3: soap here

part 4: gaz here

masterlist here

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

buy me a ko-fi

Price was afraid to have babies with you because of the age difference and you rolled your eyes every time he talked about being an old man and how a pretty young thing like you shouldn’t be dating him much less trying to get knocked up by someone his age. As if he’d let you even entertain the thought of leaving him for a young buck who couldn’t spoil you like you deserved.

Throughout your pregnancy he treated you like fine China, afraid he’d say the wrong thing and make you cry. He’s heard about women’s hormones during pregnancy even as you remained rock solid, rolling your eyes when he’d ‘yes dear’ you.

You tried to kick him out of the bathroom when morning sickness hit and he refused. Instead sitting on the tub next to you, petting your back as you leaned into the toilet and tried to soothe you, telling you how strong you were and how beautiful you were carrying his baby even with sick bubbling up your throat at the slightest movement “I thought morning sickness was only supposed to be in the morning,” you moaned with your forehead pressed against the cool floor tile. “It’’s a misnomer, love,” John said, removing himself from his perch on the tub to wet a cool washcloth and wipe down your face.

He wishes this phase was over, hates seeing you in pain like this.

That changes once the baby’s born then he’s ready to do it all over again. He didn’t know how attached he’s gotten to helping you do the things you couldn’t because of your belly like putting on your shoes (looking up at your belly reverently the entire time before planting a kiss on it) for you and helping you pick things off the floor that your clumsy fingers dropped. He grew a particular affection for helping you rub shea butter and vitamin E oil over your rapidly appearing stretch marks.

Price insists on building the nursery furniture without reading the directions, “Know what I’m doin’ woman,” and to your chagrin he was right. Managed everything without a set of directions perched on his knee and instead chucked them to the side with the box.

The first thing he built was the fancy rocking chair he bought for you, insisting you don’t help him with anything “At least let me hold the screws John, I feel stupid just sitting here!”

To him, peace is this. This is what so many long nights holed up in some shithole on a mission have led to. Him sitting on the floor at your feet, building a life together while oldies play on the record player in the next room. He’s so overwhelmed in the moment he can’t help but pull your hand to his lips and kiss it and laughs at you when you ask him what’s wrong

“It’s all right, is the thing, love.”

When you get the first ultrasound, he stops at the store on the way home and purchased a picture frame (insisting you stay in the car and not overexert yourself, he’ll just be a moment, love). The next day he’s on base it now proudly sits facing him next to the photo of him and you vacationing in London with your faces squeezed together in the frame, selfie-style.

Tells anyone who enters his office about you and how far along you are, whether they ask or not, comparing the baby to different sized fruits, which parts were developing that week.

“She’s the size of a lime now, tiny little thing.”

“Can you imagine that she’s growing fingernails in my bird’s belly!”

Absolutely rubbed your swollen ankles in the evenings when he got home from work, peppering gentle kisses on them when he switched feet

Loved your pregnancy brain fog and would kiss your nose any time he got to remind you about something. He became the keeper of your calendar, scheduling your appointments and taking you to them.

When you go into labor, he’s on base in a meeting with some high-brass in a meeting on a highly classified matter. He’s not even allowed to bring his phone into the room. Instead having to turn it off and lock it in a safe prior to entering even with a baby on the way. He was aware this might happen and had instructed you on the line of succession.

“If you can’t get ahold of me, leave me a message lovie, then go down the line. Simon’s second-in–command-”

“Then Kyle, then Johnny, I know, John, you’ve drilled it into my head,” You soothe him, petting the creases he’s worn between his eyebrows, “It’ll be just fine, women have been doing it for thousands of years.”

“I’ll be there, I promise lovie,” He kisses your palm

You leave the message on John’s voicemail, a curt, “It’s time John, once I hang-up I’m dialing Simon, just like we practiced.”

Simon answers on the third ring, “Missus?” His rumbly voice cuts across the line.

“It’s time Simon and John’s still in the meeting since his phone is turned off.”

“Copy.”

The line goes dead leaving you blinking at the Call Ended screen.

You decide that Simon is aware of the drastic nature of the matter and instead busy yourself, you lug the baby bag and your purse to the floor next to the door and go through the checklist John had created in the front pocket: Stove off, windows shut and locked, televisions off…It wasn’t until Simon was letting himself into your front door that the list was likely a distraction from your husband to stop you from leaving on your own until Simon arrived.

Simon collects you with the cool confidence of a Lieutenant in the special forces.

No, don’t worry about the bags or the door, he’s got it, just get yourself into the car.

You try John’s number over and over on the way to the hospital, narrating Simon’s driving, “John, I’m going to have words with you when this is over, I cannot believe you let your pregnant wife in a car with what has to be the worst driver in all of Manchester!”

Before you know it, you’re being rushed into the hospital with Ghost snapping at the nurse at the desk for a wheelchair, NOW! He barks out orders in true military fashion leaving your head buried in your hands as you’re being escorted to the maternity ward.

“Now don’t worry, Sir, your wife is in excellent hands,” one of the nurses addresses Simon, all muscle pushing you in the wheelchair, unblinking and matching their pace.

“He’s not-” You try and interject.

“She better be,” Simon cuts you off, “And the labor will be handled with the utmost care or someone will have to answer to me personally.”

The contractions have started coming back to back and you’re pacing the hospital room, sucking on ice chips fed to you by a patient Simon.

Kyle and Johnny have also arrived and join him in his vigil, somehow maneuvering their way through the “Father and family only” policy the hospital has.

“She was adopted,” You later find out Kyle deadpanned at the security trying to stop him from entering the room, “Can’t you see the family resemblance?”

True to his word, John is there.

He’s rushed into the room, frazzled and running his hand over his beard, eyes darting until he finds you, “Hey sweet girl, I’m here, I’m here,” pointedly ignoring the nurse trying to count out the men in the room

(“Who are these men to you again miss?”)

(“I’m the father,” Gaz informs, flipping through a magazine to pass the time between bursts of activity with contractions.)

You moan out John’s name slapping at his chest weekly when he gathers you up into his arms and hugs you, “I’m mad at you John!”

“Don’t be mad, love, I made it just like I promised,” He tries to soothe you, smoothing his hands over your disheveled hair. “Not about being late, about getting me pregnant!” “It’s a bit late for that now, love,” He does his best to hide the smile twitching into place under his mustache.

The boys remain in the room for the entire labor, John holding one hand and the other men trading off when your grip became too strong (“Dinnae know the lass could break my bones with just one hand,” Johnny moans shaking out his aching appendage.)

When the baby finally arrives, the doctor again looks around at the men in the room, “Would…Dad like to hold her?”

John finally extracts himself from your bruising grip to hold your daughter, eyes twinkling with joy at seeing the bundle covered in blood and viscera. Such a difference from every other time he’d been covered in the blood, these are stains he’ll gladly wear.

#1 baby wearer captain price

“I hardly get to hug you anymore because she’s always strapped to you!”

Price’s eyebrows go up at that, “Are you jealous, love?

“Not jealous, but I miss my husband's arms around me!” When you say that with a slight pout in your voice, Price is quick to arrange Uncle Soap and Gaz so he can wine and dine you like old times.

You make sure to wag your finger enough at the boys and remind them they’re there to babysit, not throw a rager and rile up the baby, even though you know your warnings are falling onto deaf ears. You wholeheartedly expect to return home to a cranky and overtired baby and two military men.

“Can’t neglect either of my girls” he’d mutter into your hair after pulling you close after dinner, holding you to his chest tightly in the middle of the sidewalk

“You never do, John, you’re the best man I could’ve hoped for,” You muttered into his chest, “Never did I think I’d get someone so in love with me and our child.”

Will regularly fall asleep with the baby curled on his chest, boonie hat pulled down over his eyes, with your daughter also lulled to sleep by his steady breaths. You can’t help but take a photo every time it happens, so smitten with how your husband enjoys his quiet days on leave.

You can’t help but send the photo to the boys, having the group chat with them immediately blown up with emojis sent by Soap, laughing at the Captain’s prone form.

As a joke the photo ends up framed on Price’s desk, next to the ultrasound. Price actually enjoys having it to remind him of the peace he has waiting at home and the joke is ruined when the photo remains in it’s place of honor.

#john price x reader #cod fanfiction #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #price x reader #grave writes

740 notes · View notes

twistedwonderlandshenanigans · 9 months ago

Text

All My Scars

The stories behind one of the scars each of the twst cast has SOME ARE WAY ANGSTIER THAN OTHERS OKAY please read the tw and the tags, and like the stuff in brackets under characters names that have them for a heads up...what Specifically their section covers

TW: SH, abuse, Bad Parents (specified in the reading), references to alcoholism, implied SA survivor, and some OOC stuff bc I like making Cater cry sorry PROCEED WITH CAUTION FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, apologies for inconsistencies

IF YOU DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. Here's my masterlist to some fluffier stuff if you still want to check out my writing. Thank you!

I'll be doing a fluffier version of this some other time, like dumbest childhood injuries they had or something, so if this ain't for you, please hold! --------------------------------------------------------------------

"How did you get your scar(s)?"

Heartslaybul

Riddle The question caught him off guard. He glanced down at his hand where your thumb ran over the small indentations on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger, a small smile kicking up the corner of his mouth.

"That was Che'nya. When we were kids." You looked at him, your silence prompting him to continue.

He smiled a little more, gently pulling his hand from yours to look at the scars left there, laughing softly, though a bit pained.

"I wasn't prepared to receive very much physical affection, but Che'nya couldn't really help himself. He said if hugs were off the table, he just wanted to nibble." He chuckles softly "Of course he didn't give me much of a warning, though Trey tried to stop him before he bit me. It was a shock at the time, but both of them explained it was an expression of affection...I confirmed it later on in an article on the behaviours of beastmen. Trey was used to getting bites from Che'nya, but usually with less pent up energy. Nonetheless, he helped me take care of it before I had to return home."

His brow furrowed a bit as he sighed.

"Of course, my mother noticed eventually, the divots on my hand. It was the first and only time I ever outright lied to her - lies of omission aside. I know she didn't believe me when I told her it was just me being clumsy with my pencil, but I suppose it was a tender mercy she didn't have time to deal with me that day." He looked at the divots a little longer, a particular softness in his expression.

"They're the only scars I have. I find it rather ironic that the only imperfection I carry in my mother's eyes...is the lasting impression that there is at least one person who cares for me more than she has ever been capable of."

His smile was sad, but he tried to keep things light as he looked at you. "That is not an invitation to try and bite me as well. I know full well you care for me...because you've helped the scars nobody can see, fade."

Trey

"Which ones?" He chuckles softly, pausing his kneading as he held out his arms for you to look over the various marks he had, before he pointed at one, taking matters into his own hand. "My youngest brother likes this one for some reason. He thinks the texture is different and kinda just rubs my arm when he's calming himself down."

He turned his arm so his elbow was pointing out a little bit so he could look at his forearm, pointing to a bigger scar. "This was a burn from bumping against the edge of the oven while trying to take out a tray of cookies in a rush."

He turned his arm yet again, showing off another one. "This one was from me trying to reheat baked potato leftovers. I put butter on it and threw it in the microwave, but I almost dropped the bowl when I took it out and had the bright idea to try and catch it. Splashed hot butter up my arm." He chuckled again, using his shoulder to bump up his glasses. "I have a few from Che'nya as well. Some from my siblings. Some from baking. But they make for good stories should I ever need something to share."

Cater (Heads up for the abusive parent HC's regarding using kids for media Clout) <- you can read by clicking the link

He looks startled, like he's just seen a ghost before trying to laugh it off.

"I uh...oooh sevens don't tell me you saw me eat dirt like two days ago while I was skateboarding! I swear normally I'm better than that, I just- I didn't scar, just a scrape and nothing more, swear! It's sweet you're concerned though."

You gave him a bit of a sad look, before sighing, looking away awkwardly, knowing there was no...delicate way to tell him what you wanted to.

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, but the last time I was babysitting Cheka I...saw what he was watching on his tablet and um...well I unsubscribed him from the channel but there were some videos on there that-"

"Stop."

Cater was hugging himself, balled up as tightly as he could get on the opposite side of the couch, his hair shrouding his face somewhat. He was taking shallow, rapid breaths, and while you wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort him, you didn't think he would respond well to touch at the moment.

"How much did you see?" His voice was as demanding as he could get it from inside of his little shell.

You cleared your throat a bit. "I didn't go digging into any of the videos, won't watch any if you don't want me to...it was just some of the thumbnails that...worried me that you...might have more than emotional scars to work through..."

You moved slowly to kneel on the floor next to Cater, offering your hand should he want to take it. "I'm sorry, there were better ways for me t-"

"You're right." He sobbed softly, looking out at you, nothing but pain on his face as he tried to hold in another sob, taking your hand in his, and moving it to gently run over his outer forearm.

"I c-cover them up um...a-all the time, it's second nature now but.." he takes a few moments to try and catch his breath.

"These ones were all from the same damned prank video...mom..covered the floor in dish soap in the kitchen...I was like...four, I still loved cookies, so when she said there were some, I came running in...slid and crashed into the oven...."

He sniffled and rubbed at his eyes with his free arm. "I remember watching the doctor pluck glass out from me and my mom was outside the room....just...yelling at my dad..."

He waved his hand over his forearm, letting the faded scars come to light beneath his concealer, trusting you to keep this a secret. His eyes still held unshed tears as he looked away from his arms, and from you.

"And the worst part? That video went viral. People thought it was funny. So of course mom went and did more and more prank videos, even if some people made it popular for the wrong reasons, there was still attention and validation there for her efforts, so it didn't matter. If I was crying, it was cute for me to...fuss, because I was- am the youngest, and nothing I felt really mattered. It was- I just-....I like being who I am now...most of the time...because nobody...nobody sees beyond what I want them to see...er...most people now I guess..." He gave you a bit of a bashful smile, clearly upset and conflicted still, before his face fell again and he gently tugged his hand from yours.

"Just give me a few minutes and everything will be okay again. Promise."

Deuce (with the HC he's deaf/HoH)

He kinda just sighed deeply at your question, shooting you a bit of an unimpressed look.

"I mean you could take a guess where I got most of'm and probably hit the nail on the head." He huffed, rubbing the back of his neck a bit, his eyes drifting to the side awkwardly as he wracked his brain for a scar story that wouldn't dredge up memories he'd rather forget.

"I mean the scar story my mom tells her coworkers about..." He cringes a tiny bit at the idea of relaying the story the same way his mother does, but sighed anyways.

"I was young, like really young, maybe two or three. It was before I was used to my hearing aids, so I didn't have them in at the time. She had just turned a little to greet one of our neighbours who had come out to say hello, only to hear ungodly squawking, followed by giggles...I didn't know the bird I'd managed to grab was giving me a heads up it didn't like being grabbed, besides it's struggling...long story short, it bit me pretty good." He blushed a bit and pointed to a relatively small scar on his cheek. "I don't even know what kind of bird it was. I just know what happened because it was something my mom talked about a lot."

Ace (TW for alcoholic father/abuse/manipulation)

"Mmh?" he sounded rather uninterested. It was a fair question, given the amount of time the two of you hung out, it wasn't like you wouldn't notice the jagged scar on his neck to his collarbone.

He shrugged, trying to play off how uncomfortable the memory was. "Just somethin' that happened when I was a kid."

Your unspoken questions bothered him more than he thought they would, rocking to sit up properly and look at you a little pissy.

"Look, I'm over it, so I'll tell you but I don't want a damn reaction or pity, okay? I was nine, my brother had just gotten his admission letter into NRC, and my dad was drunk off his ass. Threatened my brother with the cost of my life if he quit his job and stopped being his beer fund- not that it was much of a threat, it was a glass bottle or some shit he'd shattered and held to my neck. That was the night my brother made arrangements for me to live with his friends families so he could still come here without making me walk on eggshells around my dad. He still won't tell me if he kept paying the bastard's beer money or not, but my dad's in rehab now, and I don't ever gotta go back to him by myself again. I can just visit my brother now he's got his own place, even if he's got a roommate. So now you know." He got up from the couch, shaking out his hands a bit.

"Now, I'm gonna make some breakfast and I'm using your materials. Ain't no way I'm trekking back to Heartslaybul just for breakfast."

Savanaclaw

Leona

"Don't remember" He stretched on his bed, yawning. "Same shit I told Ruggie. It doesn't affect me now, so what's the point in remembering it? Can't hold on to every dusty memory."

"Aren't scars a symbol of nobility to those from Sunset Savannah?"

You could practically feel the discomfort rolling off of Leona in waves as he turned his back to you more.

"....yeah, they can be..." he sighed, feeling the weight of your next question mounting. "Just chalk it up to some stupid royal tradition that should have been abolished years ago. You don't have to believe it, but I'm done talking now."

Ruggie (Hyena Hierarchy shit ig?)

"Eh?" His ears flick playfully as he snickers. "They ain't a big deal. Growin' up some of the girls would play a little rough, 'nd now I mainly take care of the rugrats they like to chew and bite on anything they can get their little teeth into, not limited to ears and tail."

His ear flicks again and he holds his hands out. "And I mean, my hands ain't scarred but I don't have fingerprints cuz my grandma taught me how to do the hot food flip, you know what I mean." He snickers. "But y'know, just cuz they don't hurt anymore, doesn't mean I won't take a little extra cuddles or pets if you're gonna offer."

Jack

He scratched the back of his head a bit. "You noticed it??" He seemed a little awkward, and now that the fact had fully settled that the only scar he had was the small one on his upper lip, you could kind of understand why.

You nod a bit and he sighs, his hand dropping from behind his head and looking off to the side, a little bit embarrassed.

"It was a frog." He cringed a bit at his wording and at the eyes he felt from you, and he knew you were trying to hold back laughter.

"I- my bigger cousin was showing me a frog he caught and it jumped on my face. I didn't have full awareness of ah...my capabilities and...where my claws were in relation to my face... ended up hurting myself in the process of getting it off of me. I don't remember much else after that....just that I don't...love frogs..." He admitted a little shyly, tail tucked slightly, and clearly embarrassed.

Octavinelle

Azul

He looks at you rather unimpressed, then gestures to the tweels.

"They think I'm a chew toy. They would be the reason for any and ALL of my scars, as I've never been in any other danger where scarring would be an issue."

Jade

The question seems to hit him harder than you expected. Jade was normally hard to read, but his discomfort was apparent with your question. He gave you a practiced, but strained smile.

"The story behind my scars are not something I share willingly with anyone. I will be taking my leave." (but you can read the story here >:D)

Floyd (partial nudity?? but it's just Floyd showing off the scars he has all along his legs enthusiastically)

"Aha! I got a whole buncha scars shrimpy, which ones are ya curious 'bout?" He flopped down next to to you, and took his shirt off, showing off scars on his back.

"Oh didya see the ones on my legs durin' basketball practice?" He tried to pull up his school uniform pant leg, to no avail. He huffed and just slid his pants off, leaving him in his boxers as he showed off the scars all along his legs.

He beamed "It's a helluva lot harder t'see em when I'm in my mer form, blend right in with my scales, but my human body?? I look sick!! And there ain't too many humans who can boast 'bout havin' scars from a shark attack or a tussle with a barracuda! I got a whole buncha stories I could tellya if ya think you can stomach'em-" He snickers.

Scarabia

Kalim

"Ahah....I..I've got a scar?? Where?" For some reason he seemed a little panicked, looking over his arms anxiously. "No, no I shouldn't have any scars I um- I- just-"

His behaviour made you a little worried, so you moved to take his hands in yours, trying to steady him, but he pulled away from you, looking at you rather frantically.

"Just tell me where! I....I can- I'm alright, promise, but I don't have any scars!"

I'm realizing I have an obsession, here's another story

Jamil

"I mean I have a few minor scars on my hands from when I first started learning to cook." You watched his practiced movements as he chopped vegetables at a quick pace, sliding them off the cutting board as necessary to make more room for himself.

"Though I suppose with how intently you watch me work it's not a stretch to assume you noticed them." He gives you a bit of a knowing smirk, before pausing for a moment, and flexing his wrist to show a small scar on the back of his hand.

"That one was from taking care of Najma. She was just learning how to walk and wandered out of my fathers sight. My mother was taking care of something inside the palace, so as soon as I noticed she wasn't toddling around us, my father and I began searching for her. She ended up somehow getting herself wedged between....seven, I can't even remember. I remember putting both hands in, and pulling one one out with a cockroach on it, and the other struggling to pull Najma out until my dad was able to assist." He shook his head and sighed. "I cut myself on the wood around her, needed a couple stitches after....but she was all good, save for a mouthful of sand she had stuffed into her mouth." he chuckled softly.

"But if I have any other scars...you'll have to wait longer for those stories."

Pomefiore

Vil (SA Survivor vaguely implied)

"I do not know what you are referring to potato. I don't have so much as single blemish on my skin."

You met his eyes in the mirror, a silent questioning match ensuing between the two of you. You broke eye contact first, leaving him satisfied as he took a deep breath.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with scars. But the ones I have don't deserve any more thought, the person who inflicted them are no longer a part of my life, and never will be again. It's been over seven years, I know that there isn't a cell on me that has not been replaced by a new one."

He met your eyes back in the mirror. "Never bring this topic up again, unless you require assistance with your own scars."

Rook

"Hm? I've taken great care to cover them all up, mon trickster. Since coming to Pomefiore and being under Vil's supervision, most of my scars have faded to a point they are barely identifiable." He smiled softly at you.

"Though if you've noticed one or two, I assure you the story is lackluster." Despite his casual appearance, Rook seemed to be on..even higher alert than usual, as in you could actually pick up on the tension coming off of him. Despite this, your curiousity got the better of you.

"How can they be lackluster? Aren't most of them from archery or animals?"

Rook met your eyes with a rather cold expression, and regardless of stature, made it feel like he was looking down on you.

"No."

His glare lasted a beat longer, before he beamed, "Ah, it's best I get going. I bid you good day."

Epel (got top surgery over the summer)

"WHATCHYA MEAN HOW'D I GET MA SCARS?!" He has a wide grin on his face, hiking his shirt up.

"I AIN'T GOT NO TITS NO MORE!" He sets his shirt back down, a shit-eating smile on his face. "It was about damn time y'know! Lookit how flat ma ches- look at the scars!! Ain't they cool lookin?? Make me look MANLY an' strong, earlier Sebek done asked who I fought nd I just told'm it was my femin-feminini-.....it ain't funny now, but his face sure was!"

Ignihyde

Idia (TW for SH scars)

The ends of his hair went almost clear, and he looked rather deflated. "....cats. Stray cats. Used to pick them up without trying to bribe them first..." he mumbled, pulling at his sleeve a little more to try and cover them up, before trying to flash you a smile, though he was clearly uncomfortable and upset, so it only lasted a moment before he turned completely away from you.

The silence was heavy between the two of you, knowing the truth was more than the consequences of an angry cat.

He hugged himself more, still away from you.

"I don't do it anymore...Ortho is here now..to ah...remind me to do better...even if he doesn't know about it, his presence is enough."

Ortho

"Scar??" He tilted his head and giggled a little bit. "I don't really get those. When I get scratches Idia helps me buff them out. Why, do you see one?"

He ran a diagnostics test, trying to answer his own question, but came up empty, now trying to look over himself manually for any sort of disfiguration, only to look at you more confused and a little amused.

"What are you talking about?"

Diasomnia

Malleus

He had to hide a slight pout at your question. "Fae do not scar, not easily..."

He could see the way your eyes shifted between his face and his ear, before he sighed. "However...when I was much younger, I was prone to fits of anger, often scaring and sometimes harming the guards that were too slow to react around me." A tiny smile started to form as he thought about it more.

"Besides the initial pain when his weapon brushed past me, the guards face of terror was enough to make me giggle, despite the blood that dripped from the tiny incision." His hand came up to gently hold his ear between two of his fingers, rubbing over the small scar along the edge of it.

"I told him if he agreed to play with me I wouldn't tell my grandmother what he'd done. In a way, he was one of my first friends..but the news inevitably made it's way through the chain of command, and he was soon replaced by another heartless, soulless guard...they were all like that you know....so afraid of me, as a Draconia, to even extend the hand of friendship to a child."

Lilia

"Kheeheehee I've not got a single one, not anymore! I've had more than enough time for all the memories of my glory days fade like the scars that would have told the stories. Besides, having any visible scars would put a damper on my absolutely adorable face!" He batted his eyelashes, resting his cheeks on the 'v' shape his hands made.

Silver

"How did I get my scars?" He repeated, then looked thoughtful for a moment. "I don't have many...ah." He pulled his pant leg up gently and revealed a somewhat...suspicious looking scar on his calf.

"When I was younger, Sebek's yelling wasn't always enough to wake me up. He got fed up and bit me. He was successful in waking me up, so I have a few other scars similar to that one from when we were kids, but when he was about ten he had to stop. It was too much and he had poor control over his bite force."

He touched the side of his face pensively. "Though I was outside a lot as a child too. I'm sure I've got more scars and marks than I've cared to count. But Fa- Lilia was always attentive during our sparing sessions, so I've never received a scar from a blade."

Sebek

He huffed, an annoyed sounding bellow leaving him as he crossed his arms and turned his face away from you.

"I have not had the opportunity to receive a scar but-"

"The opportunity?"

His face flushed a bit, and he looked a little grumpy, "SILENCE, do not interrupt me human. Of course you wouldn't understand! My grandfather has battle scars still, they're a symbol of his bravery and valiance in Briar Valley! If I should ever have the OPPORTUNITY to receive a scar by blade, I would like to have one that matches his."

Extra

Che'nya

"Eh?? Well why'dya wanna knyow?" He chuckles, sitting crisscross against nothing, upside down in front of you.

"I was just curious- you don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He just giggles more, wiping one hand over half his face, evidently using magic to get rid of concealer on that side of his face.

"It's nyat a big deal, all I've got are acne scars and the result of me just pickin' at myah skin." He grinned, pouting playfully and making a peace sign. "'m still absolutely adorrrrrrrrrrrrable though, makeup just is more tolerable than putting lotion on and reminds me not to pick at it." He purred through his own compliment, before using his hand to use magic and put the concealer back on.

Jack Hearts-Trappola (same TW as Ace, only it's implied here, not outright)

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Don't ask Ace that question, kay? It'll put'm in a funk for the rest of the day even if he denies it." He moved to pour himself a glass off coffee, aware you were still waiting for an answer. He took a sip before looking back to you, and answering best he could.

"The scars I have were mostly caused by glass. Once I got into the entertainment industry, I took up soldering and welding so I've got a few pretty bad burns myself from slag or poor PPE, but I had fun doin' it. So no harm no foul." He grinned, the same wide, shit-eating grin that matched his younger brother's expression so closely, it was uncanny.

Falena

His laugh filled the room, boisterous and light. "Ah, you noticed them?" He had all sorts of scars along his arms, in sets of two or three, headed in the same direction.

"Thank you. Here, scars are a testament to one's nobility, strength and perseverance. I received many from Leona when we used to spar, he was always quick on his feet and caught me off guard many times." He chuckled again. "I was never the best at fighting, but it was an important skill to develop should I ever need to defend my son...and if my wife isn't around to exact her fury." His wife gave him a light, playful shove, making him laugh in response as well.

Najma

"Okay if I tell you, you can't tell Jamil or my parents okay?? Don't go snitching me out." She pulled you up to her room, and to her window, sliding it open to a palm tree just outside.

She pointed down at a ridge on the tree, and then pulled up the cuff of her pants and pointed to a scar from the middle of her calf up to her knee. "That fucking tree bit me when I was just trying to go meet up with some of my girls. Do you know how quiet I had to be so my mom and dad didn't catch on??"

Neige (HC he uses mobility aids (forearm crutches + wheelchair when necessary) when not in public eye)

He laughed softly, settling back into his wheelchair and pulling his leg up across the other one, pointing to a small scar over the front of his ankle.

"I got it when I was really young. I was trying to run away from someone who was chasing me, I don't remember if it was tag or not, but probably! I ended up getting a deeper cut than I thought I did when I tripped over one of those concrete barriers they use for cars. It was already falling apart, so the I guess it was moreso the mix inside the concrete that got me?? I don't remember. I do remember getting ice cream after though." He giggled. "I think I was on my way to a photoshoot. I'll have to see if Vil remembers."

Rollo (vague religious themes, SH, never ask me to write for this man again)

He had a band around his wrist, as if he had a bracelet that had turned into one massive scar. It wasn't entirely unreasonable for you to ask, and now that you knew of his brother, there was no reason to really keep it to himself now.

He sighed, holding his wrist out to you rather disdainfully.

"It's a reminder. Every time I look at it, I can imagine the pain my dear brother was in as fire and magic consumed him. I burnt myself for weeks in the same place so as to remind myself repeatedly what my failure has caused. It serves as a reminder what hell will feel like should I never repent of my sins, or fail in correcting the path so many have fallen to. Magic is no god of mine. I will not let it dictate when life is lost or gained. Not in my life. Not in anyone's if things were to go my way...but I'll show them the right way eventually."

His eyes slid over to you.

"You agree, don't you? You'll walk down the righteous path with me and preach the truth to everyone until they join us too."

--------------------------------------------------------

Free me from my mental prison dear god why do I do this to myself at the worst times of day/night.

284 notes · View notes

strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

Text

Shovel Talk(s) Final Part

Part One 🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four

Steve starts with Dustin. Not for any particular reason. Dustin is just the first person he ends up seeing after an entire weekend spent at Eddie's house. They'd redone their date in Indy on Saturday, getting back into Hawkins late, so Steve stayed the night. He had a morning shift at Family Video but it was Robin's day off so he didn't see her.

Dustin called at 11:00am on Monday to ask for Steve's assistance with his bike's flat tire. He needs a ride to Melvald's for a new tire tube and pump, and since Steve's shift doesn't start until 2:00pm he agrees.

Steve picks him up and listens to him ramble about his weekend and how he the tube got a hole in it. He stays in the car while Dustin runs inside to make his purchases, and then they're back at Dustin's house. Dustin knows how to change out the tube on his bike; he's been raised by a single mother for longer than Steve's known him so he's pretty self-sufficient, but Steve still offers to do it and Dustin lets him.

It's little moments like these that really let Steve feel like Dustin's brother. Which is what makes it easier for Steve to say, as he is peeling the tube from inside the tire out, "hey, do you remember a week or so ago, when you said we were happy for Eddie and me?"

"Yeah," Dustin says as he's ripping open the package the new tube is in.

"You also told me to not hurt him. I- why'd you say that?" Steve halts his progress on peeling the tube out to look up at Dustin.

He watches as Dustin turns sheepish, "I. Well, mostly I said it so that when I talk to Eddie, I might feel less bad about threatening him."

"What? Why did you threaten him?"

Dustin finishes freeing the new tube from its prison before finally looking back at Steve, "I haven't yet. Mike was talking about how Nancy gave you a shovel talk a while ago, as Eddie's 'best friend'," he makes air quotes around the words, "and I'm your best friend, so I have to give Eddie one. But Eddie's also my friend, so I had to say something to you, too."

"That's so-" Steve cuts off, because he was going to say that's so childish but Dustin should be allowed to be childish just a little longer. Part of his childhood was stolen by monsters and Steve can give him a little bit back, "that's a nice thought but please don't shovel talk Eddie. Besides, Erica beat you to it."

"Shit!"

"Language."

"Well, since Erica did it there's really no point in me doing it. She's terrifying when she wants to be."

Steve laughs because Erica can be terrifying. "Give me the tube, or do you want to finish this?"

"No, continue," Dustin thrusts the tube at Steve, who takes it with a grin and gets back to work.

Robin and he are closing on a Wednesday night, so it's been slow all day, and while Steve wants to talk to Robin, he doesn't want to be interrupted. So, they go about their shift like normal and it's only once he's locked the door and flipped the open sign to closed that he seeks out Robin in the back room, where she's counting down the till.

"Can you pause after that? I need to talk," Steve says and feels his stomach churn. He's never.... he and Robin have never had a fight, never really had any issues that required a talk. Not about anything between them anyway. Robin's always just understood him, in the same way he's understood Robin. They've never been the source of each other's pains until now.

"Yeah, of course," Robin finished the coins, marking down the amounts on a piece of paper before shifting to give Steve her full attention. "Are you ready to talk about it?"

"It?"

"Whatever's hurting you," she says. "I don't know what it is, but I knew you'd come to me when you were ready."

"It's been heard to try and talk about," Steve confesses, "because it's never. It was never you that I've been- I still don't know what to say but I know I don't want to be..." he trails off, waving his hands as he grapples for the words he wants.

"Oh," Robin whispers, standing from the desk to approach. "I hurt you. Tell me what I did, so I can properly apologize."

"When you told me to be careful with Eddie," Steve says, "after I told you about our first date. I don't understand why you'd say that me."

Robin looks pained and swallows before she says, "I'm so sorry, Steve. I shouldn't have said that. And I don't- I don't even have a good reason why I did. I know you'd never hurt Eddie. I know you and what I said wasn't even about you. Not the real you, anyway."

"So, why'd you say it, then?"

Robin frowns and looks away from him, shuffling her feet before she says to a point at the wall, "I was friends, or friendly, with a lot of the girls you were with in high school. A lot of one and done dates that I had to hear about, while they cried in the bathroom or on their bedroom floors, wondering what they'd done wrong, why you didn't stay or-" Steve winces as the reminder of who he'd been in high school comes easily out of Robin, but not for the usual reason he winces. It's not because Robin's reminding him he used to be a douche; she's reminding him of all the people he hurt and never cared that he'd done it. He never apologized, and now it's far too late even if all those girls deserve to hear it.

Robin is still speaking, "or whatever. But that doesn't matter now. You aren't that guy anymore; haven't been the entire time I've actually known you and it wasn't fair for me to say what I said. I just- you took Eddie out, and the part of me that spent years of high school consoling friends who felt used by you just spoke. I-I need to work on filtering the words that come out of my mouth, because if I'd waited like, four more seconds to process your words and settle in the fact you went on a date we both thought you'd never be brave enough to ask for, then I never would have said it. I'm so sorry, Steve. I know you and I should have known better."

Steve swallows thickly, because it hurt to hear but he also knows she's sorry and that's enough. He steps forward and sweeps her into a hug, crushing her against him. She squeezes back just as hard.

Steve has never felt really hurt about Wayne's shovel talk. It was the first, and the only one he'd say he deserved. Not because Steve deserved to have a shovel talk given to him, but because Wayne should get to have the honor of giving one. Eddie's never had a boyfriend before, and Wayne had spent so long worried about how this town would treat Eddie if they knew he was gay.

So, when Steve sees Wayne again, he just smiles at the man, and gets a genuine smile back. He and Wayne are ok.

He and Jeff apologize to each other next time they cross paths on a Hellfire night. Steve apologizes for being snappy and rude. Jeff apologizes for automatically assuming the worst of Steve. They agree to a truce and a start over.

Steve's convinced he can win over Eddie's friends eventually.

Steve can't talk to Nancy. There's too much left unsaid between them for him to feel comfortable with telling her she hurt him. But it's okay. He and Nancy aren't close friends, and she's leaving for Boston in a few weeks for college. He's sure that the distance, and not seeing her weekly for Lunch Date Day, will help.

So, he's a bit surprised to answer the knocking on his front door to see Nancy. It's an exact recreation of the day she shovel talked him and immediately Steve tenses.

"Uh, hi," he says.

Nancy takes a deep breath and says, "I'm sorry. I thought I was being funny when I gave you that shovel talk, but I- someone made it clear to me that we aren't friends enough to be able to make jokes like that. That's my fault, too. For everything I've done and never apologized for. So, I want to say that I'm sorry."

Steve's a little stumped, a bit perplexed even, so he speaks on autopilot, "It's fine, Nance. We're good."

Nancy squares her jaw and narrows her eyes and says, "no."

"No?"

"No. Don't forgive me. Not yet. Make me earn it."

Steve don't respond right away. He wants to just forgive Nancy, but when he thinks about it, he just wants to do that so Nancy will quit looking so defensive. He's not sure he does forgive her. "You're right. I- we'll work on that, then. Being friends one day."

"Good. Good," Nancy nods. "I'll see you are Lunch Date day, yeah? Or... or would you like me to stop coming?"

He shakes his head. "No, please keep coming. There's, what, three more before you're off to college? We can work towards friends in that time, yeah?"

"Yeah," Nancy gives him a small smile, "see you then, Steve."

"See you," Steve replies and shuts the door as she heads down the walkway back towards her car.

He wants to know if Eddie or Robin gave her the dressing down that brought her here to say sorry.

(It wasn't Robin or Eddie. It was Mike, learning what Nancy had done and telling her it wasn't her place to do that.)

There is one final shovel talk for the remainder of their relationship.

It's the final day in Steve's room at his parents house. He's moving in with Eddie and Wayne, at least until the kid's all graduate. Then he and Eddie might go off somewhere on their own.

He's finished packing up his things from the bathroom, and looks up in the mirror. He sees himself, and almost doesn't recognize the reflection staring back. He looks happy. Actually, really happy.

Eddie appears behind him in the mirror, leaning himself against the doorjam, smiling softly at Steve through the mirror.

"All done, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, babe," Steve says. "Just one more thing."

"Oh?"

Steve slides his eyes away from Eddie in the mirror, back to himself. He lifts a finger and points one accusingly finger at himself and says, "if you fuck this up, Harrington, I'll kick your ass myself."

Eddie's full belly laughter rings loudly in the bathroom and Steve just smiles.

#shovel talk(s)#steddie #my fic #SURPRISE! Bet ya didnt think id ever finish this fic #but neither did i so here we are‚ surprised together #i was talkin' with the besties about this and fell asleep thinking about it and decided i needed to finish it or it will haunt me forever #sometimes an apology doesnt need to be an apology. sometimes the explanation is enough #sometimes you need to apologize for a thing you said even if the reason you said it has solid logic behind it #and sometimes you just need to admit you were wrong and say sorry with no explanation

403 notes · View notes

juceynightmare · 2 years ago

Text

what if we kissed in front of the pokemon cards? - hook x reader

my masterlist

hook masterlist

pairing(s): hook x fem!reader, dante martin x fem!reader

warning(s): swearing, jealous!hook, reader’s a geek, hook’s just happy to be there, references to memes about video games

genre(s): fluff, established relationship

word count: 1,788

summary: y/n is a regular on ethan page’s toy hunt vlogs. along with hook, dante, darius, mark sterling, and ethan page, they all visit a toy store although y/n, mark, and ethan are the only collectors of the group. for some particular reason, dante hovers around y/n more than he usually does, and tyler isn’t too fond of his friend trying to be so close to his girlfriend - even if no one knew they were dating just yet because their relationship is only a few hours old.

crouched down in front of a multitude of wrestling figures from the 90’s, mark sterling and ethan page were talking about being the old ones in the group by a decade. “hey, remember when i made that al bundy joke and no one in the car understood it. do you feel old?” ethan asked.

“i mean, these guys are born in 1999.” mark began, but ethan cut him of with a river of “no”’s.

“that’s not true. dante, y/n, what year were you two born in?” ethan called out from where he and mark were squatting on the floor, their gaze’s fixed on the two young adults that were standing not too far from them.

“2001.” they answered in unison as they walked over to ethan and mark.

“oh my god, that’s even worse!” mark exclaimed as he stood up, while ethan laughed. “alright, quick question, did you two play with wrestling toys growing up?”

dante answered with a nod, and mark continued to ask him questions.

ethan stood up beside mark, angling the camera in a way that’d get all four of them in the shot. in his phone screen, ethan tried not to make a face at how close dante was to y/n, even noting that the man tried to wrap an arm around her waist but y/n seemed to notice and took a step away from him.

“y/n, check this out!” tyler’s voice cut through the store, catching everyone’s attention because the man was usually so quiet that you’d typically forget he was also tagging along with them.

“coming!” y/n yelled out in response, excusing herself quickly before scurrying away from the group - missing the way dante stared at her back longingly before ethan and mark grabbed his attention again.

she found tyler crouching down by a display case full of pokemon cards, and her mouth dropped open in a gasp. “oh my god, tyler, you found the jackpot. do they have base set stuff in here?” she asked as she crouched down beside him, leaning forward towards the glass as if it’d give her a better look of the cards inside.

“don’t let dante be so close to you.” tyler mumbled in a manner that y/n could only compare to a low growl. with his gaze still fixed on the cards, y/n’s snapped her head to the side to face him.

she observed him for a second, noting how tense tyler’s jaw had become underneath the hood of his hoodie, and how he hands were balled into fists. she reached out, placing her hand over his and rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. tyler turned to look at her, and y/n noticed the fire in his eyes that had made it obvious that the man was jealous.

“glad i wasn’t the only one who thought he was acting a bit weird today.” she mumbled in response, scooting over so that she could be right beside tyler. she watched tyler tear his gaze away from her and focus his attention back on the cards in the display case. she felt him adjust their hands so that he could lace their fingers together properly before lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“he’s been following you around like a lost puppy and practically waves me away whenever i try to hang around you two.” he grunted, letting their hands fall down between them as y/n leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder.

“did you call me over because you couldn’t hide the jealousy anymore or because you actually wanted me to look at these cards?” she mused, feeling tyler rest his head against hers and sigh.

tyler was never one to play into the whole public display of affection deal. however, when it came to y/n, tyler found himself being comfortable stepping out of his bubble. especially when it meant he got her attention. “both. i finally mustered up the courage to ask you out but it seems like dante was on the same track as me.” he muttered in reply, and he listened to the way she chuckled beside him.

“even if he asked me out first, i’d reject him. i have a huge massive crush on his friend, tyler.” y/n playfully mumbled, reaching up with her other hand to poke tyler’s nose.

“oh really? i heard this tyler guy has a huge massive crush on you, too. maybe you guys should kiss right now at the pokemon card display case.” he hummed, lifting his head and turning to face y/n.

“yeah?” she questioned, lifting her head from his shoulder as soon as she felt him lift his head from hers. she turned her face to look at him, to already find him staring at her with sheepish eyes. “i wouldn’t mind. i think it’d be a very cute kiss with my new boyfriend since he didn’t want to kiss me when he asked me out a few hours ago because he ‘wants our first kiss to be perfect’” she giggled.

tyler watched the way crinkles formed at the corners of her eyes as she giggled. her mouth was formed into the cutest smile he’d ever seen, and the way she squeezed his hand had let tyler know that this was most definitely the perfect moment for him to kiss her. so, he leaned forward, tilted his head to the side and pressed his lips against hers, silencing her giggles but feeling her smile against his lips as she kissed him back softly. they felt fireworks tingle down to the tips of their fingers and the ends of their toes - and they couldn’t think of a better time to have their first kiss.

tyler was the one who pulled away after a few seconds, opening his eyes and noticing the blush that had dusted her cheeks and the wide smile that had appeared on her face. he figures he looked the same, feeling how warm his face had grown and how hard it was for him to not smile. he turned his head back to face the display case, feeling her head drop down against his shoulder again. for a man who usually didn’t like being so openly affectionate, he couldn’t help but feel the need to keep kissing her - even if they were in public with their friends with one of them recording a video for the internet.

tyler rested his head against hers, squeezing her hand gently just as she gasped and pointed excitedly at a card on a lower level. “babe, look!” she said, rather loudly that caught the attention of their friends on the opposite side of the store. “a psa 9 gold star rayquaza from deoxys!” she continued, lifting her head from tyler’s shoulders and letting go of his hand. she placed her hands firmly on tyler’s shoulders and shook the man violently, causing him to laugh and grab at her wrists to try and get her to stop.

he didn’t understand why she was so excited - tyler wasn’t one to collect toys, figures, or cards. additionally, he had no idea what she just said. to him, y/n was saying multiple random words that didn’t make sense to him but as long as it made her happy and excited, then tyler would go along with it. especially when she was so excited that she had upgraded tyler from “tyler” to “babe”.

“baby, you’re getting all excited and violent.” he laughed. the girl finally let him go as ethan and the others walked up, dante visibly disappointed at the revelation that y/n and tyler were most definitely dating or at least involved with each other.

“what’d you find, mrs. hook?” ethan teased, not missing a moment to tease the youngest member of his toy hunt crew. he brought the camera over to the display case, following where she was pointing to focus on the graded card.

“gold star rayquaza! best card in the entire pokemon card releases, i don’t care what others think.” she answered, leaning forward until she was practically pressed against the case. a blush had risen to her cheeks at ethan calling her 'mrs. hook' but she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of making her completely flustered. “the price tag is absolutely not it though.” she muttered disappointedly as she took note of the price tag.

tyler stood up, stretching out his arms above his head with a groan. he saw the store owner already beginning to pull the card from the case, and y/n quickly stood up as soon as the slate was set down on the display case.

“how often are you going to find one of these, though?” ethan continued, while mark snickered from beside him. dante and darius were standing behind the two older men, their gazes fixed on where tyler’s hand now rested on the small of y/n’s back.

“no need to worry about how often she’ll come across one of these. i’m buying this one for her.” tyler hummed as y/n’s head snapped up to him. before she could protest, he lifted a hand to cover her mouth. “can you add it on to her pile, please?” he asked the store owner, feeling y/n try to pry his hand off of her face.

when the owner nodded and went to the register to add the slate to the pile that y/n had started, tyler finally uncovered her mouth. “babe, what the fuck!” she yelled, looking up at tyler in shock.

“babe, what the fuck!” tyler mimicked her, making his voice high pitched and exaggerating the way the girl sounded.

the others behind the camera laughed at the interaction, and dante pitched in a genuine light-hearted, “stop flirting! we’re still here, you know.”

ethan turned the camera back to face him, mark, darius, and dante. “god, the fans are gonna love this. it’s cool if i include it in the vlog, right?” he asked, looking past the phone camera to look back at the couple who were currently arguing in a whisper. well, not more so arguing, but rather y/n insisting that she could buy the card herself and tyler refusing to let her pay. they both paused their arguing to look back at ethan.

a light blush rose to their cheeks, and y/n nodded her head while tyler let out a “i don’t care.”

later on, when the two of them were in y/n’s hotel room, y/n would show tyler a multitude of “what if we-” memes because their first kiss reminded her of them. tyler would later ask if y/n would ever want to put her minecraft bed next to his and kiss after beating the enderdragon together.

#aew hook x reader #aew hook #aew hook fanfiction #aew hook imagine #aew x reader #aew fanfic #aew imagine #aew fanfiction #aew hook fanfic #hook x reader #hook #hook fanfiction #hook imagine #hook fanfic

448 notes · View notes

oh-saints · 2 years ago

Note

Hello!! Love how you write angst, could you maybe write a one shot for either mason mount or martin ødegaard, where you have been dating for a couple of years and suddenly he starts being nervous around reader and she thinks that he is going to ask her to move in but he breaks up with her because he starts thinking that she should be with someone that can give her all their time and not being in the spotlight and then idk ajajajaj

Maybe they call them when they are drunk or they get hurt in a match and they call her or something where they hace to face each other or something

Omg this is long ajajajajaj hope you like my idea and it inspires you to write something, I know anything we got from you will be nice :)

hi nonny!! sorry it's only now i can write this request of yours. i hope i'm not too late? ;-)

but since i'm writing an angst-y series for mason, here may i present you something for our favourite young captain that i've been working on the past week...

ghost

it’s true what people say when they tell you to wrap up your unfinished business first. you’re just too blind to see the big, fat ass flag that’s waving as red as your boyfriend’s kit.

martin ødegaard x you tw: insecurity + cheating wc: 3.3k note: this is just a fiction ok i'm just in the mood to make devil out of everyone lolol this actually hits a bit too close to home but I need to let it out, so here we are. I don’t support cheating whatsoever btw, so remember to break it up good first things first 😉but as usual, I happen to write at dawn so it’s not beta-read yet. songs: almost is never enough - nathan sykes, ariana grande & midnight rain - taylor swift

“are you engaged or something that I don’t know of?”

it wasn’t often your best friend paid you a call, considering her florist business was thriving and all and they were now rather short-staffed. so when her name flashed over the screen of your phone, you didn’t think twice to excuse yourself out of your office to pick up her call.

but you didn’t think she’d fire you that question. sure, you’d been dating your boyfriend since the early days of his arrival to the north side of london and things had been going stable between you two. sure, you’d talked about the more serious part of your relationship, such as what if you both get married and all. but that was it—none of you discussed more than that, what ifs.

you wouldn’t turn down the opportunity if given, though.

“uh, no? why are you asking?”

“shit,” your friend muttered under her breath. “promise me, first. don’t tell him it comes from me, okay?”

the more your friend gave you disclaimer like that, the more your heart’s palpitation grew rapid. “as if I’d throw my best friend under the bus.”

she laughed at your lame attempt to hide your nervousness. your voice tended to reach an octave higher when you did so. “martin ordered so many peonies for the weekend.”

peony is your favourite flower, you’d told martin that a long while ago—to which martin utilised the information for every of your anniversary bouquet, along with every time your birthday came up. but he never orders for peony on ordinary days because he thinks it defeats the purpose of presenting you everything special on particular days.

and this weekend was the last game of the season, a mark to officially begin your summer break, which is always the time you both look forward to because in between martin’s constant flying schedules and your 9-5 hectic schedule, it’s always nice to have one or two week(s) secluding yourself from the entire world, spending day and night only with your boyfriend.

you had to take a deep breath to slow down your pounding heart. can it be?

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

see you on the weekend, baby.

martin wasn’t supposed to be smiling this wide. he wasn’t even supposed to smile at all. because despite the sweet moniker, the sender wasn’t his own girlfriend of a little more than two years. worse, the sender had even been deprived of every right to call him by endearments since that painful moment she broke up with him, right when he informed her that there was a better opportunity for him in london.

logically, he was supposed to hate her with all his might—how could he stand someone who didn’t support his growth and development as a young football player? how could he stand someone who only crawled back to him when he was now an up-and-coming name in the football world?

logically, he was supposed to come back home straight from the training ground instead of ordering a bunch of flowers for the next time he met her. why did he feel obliged to bring her a handful of flowers? where did this feeling come from?

martin wasn’t one to understand flowers, anyway. he only bought flowers for special occasions, and that was also because he’d gotten the information yourself about your favourite flower. so why was he purchasing something he didn’t possess the knowledge of, to begin with?

but logic seemed to have escaped the most level-headed person under mikel arteta’s team since the ghost of his past decided to appear before him last week.

“martin, you should know that I’m very sorry for what I’ve done,” she started explaining, and the moment she reached for martin’s hands over the table was the moment his resolve crumbled apart. “I wasn’t thinking straight and I was too foolish to want you all for myself. but I’ve grown up, for you, so that I can be someone you need by your side.”

martin should naturally ask for an evidence, or anything to convince him that she had indeed become better for him, had turned into someone she believed he needed. martin should ask what she had become—could she be like you, the one who put shattered pieces of him together and glued him back to his old self?

martin should prove it himself if this very lady in front of him, who’d inflicted more pain than logically accepted, was a better fit to be his other half than you. hell, martin should’ve even proved it himself that she was no better than you, period. so why did his hand now get tangled with hers, reciprocating the light squeeze she gave him over the table?

why did he think she deserve at least a chance to explain herself?

ironic, really, when his gaffer picked martin to be the captain of his team himself solely for martin’s extraordinary football iq.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

landed! can’t wait to see you! xx where are you?

“martin, baby,” martin jumped in his place, his phone almost fell off his hands, as the sultry voice he loved—and he discovered that he still loves it all the same—tried to lure him back to bed. “what are you doing? come back here,”

the pristine white sheet of the hotel slid down her chest as she sat up, beautiful in between the mess he made of her—her now-tangled hair, purple spots down her neck and chest, red marks down her arms and thighs—and martin’s heart broke into two. one at the revelation at how much he’d missed this sight of her, the other at the fact he needed to leave this behind because he still had you to come back to.

you, who’d been waiting for him at the airport for two hours now, because he forgot about picking you up from your business trip. something he never did during the time you both spent together.

you, who would be waiting for him in his house later, ready to spill everything you went through during your business trip, because you know martin was a good listener and never a judgemental one. because you know martin would always have your back.

you, who had loved him before his name, who have loved him through the calm and the storm of a football season, who always love him no matter wins or loses, and who promises to always love him through thins and thicks.

something came up at the training ground. I’m sorry I can’t pick you up myself.

martin’s heart plopped down the plush carpet as he pressed send, for reasons he didn’t want to acknowledge right now. not when a pair of arms managed to snake its way to his waist, eliminating the distance between martin and her in no time and they were now skin to skin, and good lord, was it not satisfying to have no barrier between them.

martin’s heart plopped down to the deepest part of hell, perhaps, when he felt his phone vibrated in his hand—the one that wasn’t busy moulding his body to fit the vixen in his arms—and saw the immediate response you replied him with.

alright, good luck with that. see you at home! xx

you, whose love martin had betrayed. consciously so.

“do you still love her?” was the question the woman martin believed as siren incarnated, fired off as soon as she saw him dressing up, ready to leave her behind in this luxury confinement they called five-star hotel.

brave, martin got to give her that. it was the very question martin kept asking himself as he laid awake last night, facing the ceiling while listening to the sound of her gentle breathing, tickling against the skin just an inch from his pecks. her flimsy finger was ghosting yet so palpable, just like your existence—resting there waiting to be acknowledged, like the elephant in the room.

funny how it was his favourite position of yours since the first night you slept together, for it reminded him of her touch, the very touch he’d lost because she was a selfish human being.

yet, martin was currently the one selfish beyond possible combination of words.

but somehow, martin was even braver for responding her when he himself wasn’t sure he could answer his own question.

“I’d be lying if I say I don’t, søta,” he donned his jacket before he leaned down, claiming her lips once more—for what, he didn’t know. to satisfy himself? to soothe the impending thirst that’d been building up unknowingly since she left him? to boost his confidence and justify himself that he was about to do the right thing? “and probably a part of me always will.”

the woman frowned in the way martin was supposed to hate her—she was the reason he’d grown to hate frowny, clingy women—but instead, he shot down a well-placed kiss that she reciprocated in the same fervour, obvious to tell him that she didn’t like sharing. her hands pulled him down further the bed, trying to lull him back to her arms, just like siren personified, and martin laughed in between their heated exchange.

“I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“what if you never come back?” the woman refused to let go of him, hugging him tightly like a koala to his tree. “what if you suddenly realise you love her more?”

“it’s clear to see I don’t love her that much anymore, no?” martin swept the brown locks that reminded him of milky chocolate fondue. sweet, silky, smelt as nice as it looked, as he plucked off one of the peony petals he’d showered her with. “not enough to make me stay with her, anyway.”

martin even surprised himself by saying such words. he didn’t know he was capable of that, he didn’t know how he could have it in him. but if he thought that was surprising, he certainly wouldn’t hold a candle against himself for the things he did—or maybe, had done—to you.

you, whose entire world martin shattered. consciously so, since the moment you parted yourself from the embrace you enveloped him with but whose warmth wasn’t returned.

“what’s wrong?”

he knew it wasn’t easy. it was never easy to be with you since the very beginning anyway—you gathering his broken pieces, you swiping off all of his insecurities and assuring him that you’d wait for him till he wiped off all traces of her, you hiding off your identity so you wouldn’t drag him down in any way possible—but martin didn’t expect them to be very difficult, disclosing all his sins and admitting his faults.

admitting she wasn’t the only one in his heart.

worse, admitting she was never the only one since the start.

“was the emergency that bad at work?”

martin wanted to scream at her, telling her off that she wasn’t supposed to think the better of him, not after everything he’d done to her and their relationship. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to be the bad guy for once for putting herself first. martin wanted to scream at her, telling her to live happily without him because she didn’t deserve him.

“don’t look at me like that, martin,” your eyes were as clear as always, and martin’s heart broke once more for you and every of the emotions displayed in your eyes. you were scared of him, of how cold he was being around you, and martin’s heart broke because you had been nothing but warm to him. “what’s wrong?”

you didn’t look any different to him at that moment, still lovable and looked very much like his, in every sense of the word. yet he was no longer yours, in every sense of the word. that was what went wrong.

“nothing,” martin acted the way the word implied. martin acted like nothing was wrong, as he kissed the top of your head and slid his hand into yours. “how was your trip?”

“I just wish you were there,” other days, your words would warm him up—the way your presence always succeeded to—but today, as you didn’t grasp back his hand, you meant every single word that escaped your mouth. “too bad, you know?”

too bad, indeed, my love. what if you stayed? what if she wasn’t here? martin thought inwardly as he poured the risotto he was making.

too bad, indeed, my love. because you’re gone already the moment you come home. you thought inwardly as you received the only dish he’d serve you by far because cooking had always been your thing.

too bad, indeed, as the risotto started turning as cold as the long withstanding iceberg in the form of white marble countertop separating you two. too bad, indeed, as the risotto was beyond salvageable even if you tried resurrecting it with every kind of heat earth could produce.

but neither of you moved, so different to the silent dance you both had been doing around the room. yet everything around you two was as loud as obnoxious bunch of drunkards watching the netflix show playing in your living room.

“you know I love you, right?”

the deep breath he let out indicated everything but, and you had never felt so alone in a room full of him. you were left alone, behind a four-wall full of him—his scent, his words, his voice—with nothing but abundance of confusion in your hands. it was, more often than not, your job to declare you love to him, instead of the other way around like this, so what changed?

“I love you,” yet martin couldn’t look straight into your eyes. “but I’m sorry.”

the confusion in your eyes were still evident and martin’s heart broke for you once more because he knew you didn’t deserve any of this. of him, of what he did, of how he’d been treating you. a small doubt crept in for a millisecond—what if he could fix this?—but he buried them down once more because you deserved this from him, an ending as respectable as you are.

“I love you too.”

no, no, you don’t get to say that. you’re not supposed to say that. you were supposed to throw him a thousand questions why he said sorry to you, contradicting his rather fake declaration of love for you.

“I forgive you.”

martin’s head had never snapped that fast, this time it was him that couldn’t hide his bewilderment. of all scenarios he had in his head, what you just did was never in his card. “you don’t know what I did.”

“I don’t care,” you squared your shoulders, and martin knew you meant your words then. you were so full of love and compassion, and it was why martin decided to forget her to be with you, but now martin wanted to run away for how hard life had come to bite his ass. “I love you. I forgive you.”

“I slept with another person,” and he noticed the slight tremble on those strong shoulders that overcame you. there, he needed that. he needed you to know, to feel, to see reality. “I cheated on you. I want to say that I’m sorry every time and every chance I can but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

you had gone through the worst obstacles there was on this earth—tower of terror, skydiving at palm jumeirah, being struck by lightning. you had gone through even worse obstacles—you’d seen your parents divorced before your eyes, you’d seen your friend took his life in front of you. yet nothing was as painful as the joke martin just threw in your face. you could even brave yourself for a guillotine if given the chance.

anything but the lemon your boyfriend just handed over your open wound. clean-cut and straight to the point.

“you said you love me.”

“I do,” martin replied immediately, as if he was sure of it. as if he was sure that loving you was the right thing to do when he’d just committed the wrong thing to do. “that’s why I’m sorry I did what I did.”

“with who?”

“you don’t want to know who.”

but with martin’s answer, it didn’t take you another second to figure out the woman in question. and you regretted asking immediately because you knew it’d be better if you didn’t know. you could even truly forgive him for what he did, as long as it wasn’t her. knowing who the partypooper was always a better option, because not being able to place a face to a name was always better.

but now you knew about it, and you didn’t have time to save your fragile heart from a heavy rain of sharp knives, endlessly stabbing your open wound to enlarge it even more, giving space for another knife to launch itself to a bleeding heart. you didn’t have time to hide your pain, as tears slowly escaped your eyes.

“why?” you gathered every of your remaining energy to sound brave as you faced your losing battle. “what did I do wrong?”

you needed to know because you’d been doing only the right thing. nothing less than perfect for your boyfriend.

martin wanted to know too because you’d been nothing short of what he needed.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself when martin didn’t give you a response, then you gathered yourself again as you reciprocated his strong gaze. as best as you could anyway. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t enough—”

“no, no—”

“tell me what I can do to fix this, martin,” you pursed your lips, holding back the tears left unshed. “we can still fix this. just… please don’t leave me.”

“please don’t do this…” martin sighed because while he knew you’d always fight for what you believe in, he didn’t know it would bring him a big boomerang instead. “I’ve hurt you. staying with me will hurt you more and that’s the last thing I want for you.”

but that was the last straw for you, the look on his face. he spared you a look of sympathy, an emotion you rather detested because you weren’t a charity case. so you cried, this time not because of the lost cause in your relationship. you cried for yourself, because while you were displaying your desperate frustrations to amend the broken bridges, you addressed such wave of emotion to the wrong person.

“what did I do wrong?”

“it’s not you,” martin wanted to hug you—he still hated seeing you cry—but he knew it wasn’t his place anymore to comfort you. he’d deprived himself of the exclusive right in lieu of another set of different luxurious rights. “it’s never your fault.”

but martin never said it was his, either.

#oh-saints writes #martin odegaard #martin ødegaard #martin odegaard one shot #martin odegaard imagines #martin odegaard blurbs #martin odegaard drabbles #martin odegaard angst #martin odegaard x you #martin odegaard x y/n #martin odegaard blurb #martin odegaard drabble #martin odegaard imagine #martin odegaard fics #martin odegaard fanfic #footie fics #footballer x you

86 notes · View notes

cevansbrat0007 · 2 years ago

Note

*clears throat* Ahem, if I may ask Mr. Andy Barber what are his favorite parts of his Baby Girl's body and personality? How does Mr. Sexy Daddy like to best worship his woman? If that's not too forward to ask of course, Sir.

Summary: Andrew Barber answers your burning questions about his feelings for his wife. Written from Andy's POV.

Warning: the following response contains mature themes, including references to sex, D/s lifestyles, pregnancy, ex-spouses, pregnancy, cursing, and more. Minors DNI.

A/N: For more insight into Andrew Barber and his Baby Girl, please check out my ongoing Growing Pains Series. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated. ___

I ran this by Baby Girl last night and received approval to answer these questions however I see fit. The only caveats to this being that I have to answer honestly, and then allow her to read them once I’ve finished. Both of which are fine with me.

My sweet brat knows how much I love and adore her. And if she claims she doesn’t, she’s either lying or I simply haven’t been doing my job. Either way, please rest assured that I will seek to rectify that particular issue as soon as possible. And I will leave it to her to share the details of our reckoning with the rest of you.

Now, back to your first question regarding my favorite physical features of hers. Of course, the short answer is everything. I love all of her. But I also know that that’s not the answer you’re looking for, is it?

I suspected as much. As my woman can attest, I can be pretty quick on the draw when I put my mind to it. And that’s not some kind of backhanded euphemism about my sexual prowess. I’m a man who is incredibly confident in his abilities. I know how to satisfy my woman. Because I’m a good listener – and I know how to take direction.

But I digress. If I had to pick a favorite body part or feature, I think it would have to be her nose. My Baby Girl has the most adorable nose. I love the way it crinkles up when I say something ridiculous or when our girls make her laugh. And her laugh is…it’s just the best. She has so many. You don’t always know which one you’re going to get.

Is it going to be a sweet, demure giggle or a loud, slightly irreverent cackle? Both are fantastic, highly satisfying sounds in my opinion. Because regardless of whatever one I receive, I know without a doubt that she’s being her most authentic self with me. And, quite honestly, what more could I ask for?

I would also be remiss if I didn’t mention my wife’s stomach. I absolutely adore her belly, especially now that it’s swelling again with my babies. She’s worried about stretch marks, which isn’t a particularly unique concern or anything, but all I see is the beauty. Don’t get me wrong – my woman is a knockout. And I have no doubt that my two little girls, Bianca and Katrina, will follow in her footsteps.

Granted, I’d much rather have them look like her than me. But as a father, it also doesn’t mean I have to be particularly happy about it.

But during her pregnancies, Baby Girl is just damn near impossible for me to resist. Watching her body change and swell so that it can protect and accommodate the tiny lives we’ve created together…it just does things to me. She likes to claim that I tend to act a little feral when she’s expecting. She’s certainly not wrong.

And last, but certainly not least, I’d have to say that I’m a big fan of her derriere. It’s just so goddamned spankable. And biteable. And squeezable. That ass is doing the Lord’s work and for that, I couldn’t be more grateful.

As for my ladies personality, there are so many qualities she possesses that I find attractive. I honestly can’t get enough of her. But the most important quality, the one aspect that I hold the highest above everything else, is that she is an amazing mother.

She is the living embodiment of patience. And not just with our little ones, but with me as well. Baby Girl may doubt herself sometimes, but she is so sweet and caring. And best of all, it’s genuine. You can see it all, right there in her eyes.

My wife’s eyes are the window to her soul. That’s not just some throw away line, either. It’s part of the reason she can’t ever really keep shit from me regarding how she’s feeling. Those big, beautiful eyes somehow manage to betray her every time.

Quite honestly, I could go on and on about that woman. Spend hours praising her charm and her wit, her talent and creativity. Because she is my everything. The source of my strength. The mother of my children. My partner in crime.

But at the end of it all, my absolute most favorite thing about this woman is that she’s mine. And what’s more, I plan on fucking keeping her.

On to your next question. My favorite way to worship my woman, long before she ever became my wife, is to anticipate her needs. I wasn’t very good at this with my ex, but now I’m much better at it. Over the years, she’s shown me how to listen – not just to her words, but to her body as well.

Our relationship, at least in part, revolves around a particular dynamic. We don’t often talk about it with other people because, frankly, it’s nobody’s goddamn business but our own. But it works for us. And if it ain’t broke…

Well, I’m sure you take my meaning.

With my wife, my favorite way to worship her is by doing the little things – which also promotes intimacy. This involves making time for each other, which can sometimes be challenging with two kids in the mix. But as her Daddy, I make it a priority.

Whether it’s rubbing her feet while she catches me up on her day, or helping her apply her lotion after our shower (I’m big on conserving water), I try to make myself available. Grand gestures are wonderful, and they certainly have their place, but watching my woman melt over small acts that demonstrate the ways I’m constantly thinking of her…

Those moments right there are priceless.

But my favorite thing to do with her, which is actually something I’ve slowly begun to pride myself in, is helping with her hair. My wife has been blessed with a head full of thick, glossy curls. And little by little, she’s taught me how to care for it. I’m not a professional by any means, but there’s also nothing like hearing her sigh in bliss as I take my time oiling and massaging her scalp. Plus the products she uses smell amazing.

I’m even getting pretty good at doing my two daughters’ hair as well. In fact, it just so happens that pigtails are my speciality.

Well, that’s all I have for now. Hopefully what I’ve shared above will appease your curiosity. At least temporarily. Thank you for being so polite and respectful with your question. And if you find yourself with more, please feel free to pass them along.

Sincerely, Andrew S. Barber P.S. You didn’t ask this, but since the thought occurred to me, I figured I’d share. My favorite thing to see my wife wearing is absolutely nothing – save for her wedding ring. Although, there’s also this thing we do that involves a pair of heels that is probably a close second.

Not that I ever need an excuse to get on my knees for her. Guess you could say I was born with a bit of a sweet tooth.

180 notes · View notes

insomniakisses · 2 years ago

Text

DREAMCATCHER reaction to feeding off their s/o for the first time [Vampire au]

If there was one word to describe your girlfriend it would be careful. She never fully lets her guard down around you, not when she could so easily slip up and kill you. It was from this behaviour that your curiosity had originally stemmed about being fed from.

You had heard the other girls talk to her about feeding off you, how it was easier and would bring such a new level of intimacy to your relationship. You had seen the look in Minji’s eyes it was clear she was considering it, the knowledge alone setting your body a lite with excitement.

Waiting for her friends to leave, you walked over to your gf her face pulling into a smile at your presence. That smile morphing into a smirk when you straddled her lap and brought your lips to hers. The bliss of your make out being short lived however when you pulled away, desire and curiosity burning in your eyes.

“What is it?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, but clearly audible to you in the otherwise silent room.

“Bite me.” You huff out, surprising yourself at the abruptness of the demand. “Please Min, i really want you to! I promise this is what i-“

Your cut off by her lips pressing to your neck softly, sharp fangs scraping the skin lightly before she speaks up against your neck.

“Your absolutely sure?” Theres no verbal answer but the nod you give her is enough of a conformation when she feels your hand on the back of her head. Your fingers tangle into her hair as she bites into your skin, blood flowing onto her tongue.

She should have known better. Yoohyeon was clumsy at the best of times, let alone when given a weapon and yet here bora was laying on the floor bullet wound in her chest as the clumsy blonde panicked above her.

“For god sake just go get y/n!”

Bora would be lying if she said she didn’t regret snapping at the girl, but dying because she’d given the worlds clumsiest person a loaded gun was not on her to do list today.

The minute you arrive bora is reaching for you, smiling when you kneel next to her, “baby are you oka-“

looking at you with apologetic eyes as she digs her fangs into your arm, drinking your blood with a satisfied smile. Feeling her wound begin to close and heal, trying her hardest to ignore you yells if pain, she really hopes you’ll forgive her.

“Hey baby” your girlfriend whispers from behind you, laughing at the yell ypu makes when she picks you up speeding you to her room.

You both giggle when she softly lays you on the bed, hovering over you as she places a few kisses your your face before slowly moving down. Her kisses get more heated the longer shes kissing you, and its not long before shes creating a like of purple and res marks along your skin.

Your moans filling the room when she starts to suck at one particular point on your neck, where your most sensitive. Your moans going up an octave when she begins to drag her sharp fangs against your skin, biting down softly as her hand slips into your shirt. Both moaning in pleasure.

The feeling of her lips against your skin made your eyes flutter closed, the hot wet kisses being placed against your skin doing nothing to ground you or purify your thoughts.

“I can hear your heart, its so loud i could go deaf” she teases smirking against your skin as she trails her kisses lower and lower. Her fangs scraping against your thigh causing your heart to beat even faster, your breath hitching slightly.

“I wonder…” she mumbles before placing a soft kiss to the same spot, smiling as she bites into the soft flesh. The taste of blood hitting her instantly.

Looking at the bandage covering your arm you can’t help but shake your head at the memories of this morning replay in your head.

The memory of your puppy like girlfriend being so excited to show you something that she super-sped right into the arm of the chair and landed bite first into your fore arm.

That was when the panic had set in, quickly detaching herself she has flapped around for the next 10 minutes stressing about if you were okay. Stressing so much she completely failed to see bandage yourself up and sit down again. It was only when she had seen your blank stare that she calmed down. Moving to cuddle you.

Looking down to the girl sprawled over you, fast asleep, you couldn’t help shake your head. How could someone so dangerous also be so clumsy and adorable.

You both loved days like these, days where you spent hours curled up by the fire. Your body wrapped up in her embrace while she reads her latest novel obsession. Her voice always ending up lulling you to sleep. Only this time something seems to be on your mind.

“Dami?”

Humming she folds the corner of the page in her book, closing it to focus on you. Red orbs staring into your own. “What is it?”

“I’ve been thinking,” you breath out trying your hardest to keep your voice steady “i want you to bite me” you shut your eyes expecting her to argue, or get mad but instead your met with silence.

Opening your eyes you see your girlfriend staring at you in amusement. “If thats really what you want then okay” smiling she leans in she kiss your neck before biting down.

Your breathings erractic when she finally stops her movements, climbing back up your body to kiss you. You moan at the taste on her lips and the way she smirks into the kiss.

She pulls away to bite and suck at your neck, sending you a cocky wink before bitching down slightly harder. Her fangs puncturing your skin as she enjoys the taste of your blood, moaning into your neck.

A/n: God i love vampire dreamcatcher 😭 sorry its so late! And also i hope your doing well <3. some r short bc i wanted to keep them pg-13

162 notes · View notes

whiskey-tango-matcha · 2 years ago

Text

Patient Zero (m, colds)

I'm trying something a little different on this one - there's no sick character POV, but both Greyson and Elijah are sick. This is written from first Matt (the sous chef) and then Mark's (the floor manager) perspectives. It was a fun little exercise, and I hope you all like it.

Elijah & Greyson both have the flu and blame each other for it. No real plot, just quips and vibes. Enjoy :)

cw: male snz, colds, contagion, coughing, fevers, dizziness...snarkiness... the usual lmao. 3.5k words

Patient Zero

The early hours of the morning were the best the restaurant had to offer. It was summer, but at three in the morning it was cool, quiet, dark, and almost meditative to be in the restaurant alone. I could get used to this, Matt thought, setting his things down on the prep table in the empty kitchen.

Matt almost never worked the AM shift, but it was an event night and event nights always came with an unusual schedule. This particular event was a small business celebrating ten years open, and the two women in charge of the event were lovely but… particular.

Everything had to be just so – which was fine, because they were paying through the nose to buy out the restaurant for the night – and many of their requests were ones that Greyson and Elijah had never heard before.

“They want us to… make their dinner rolls?” Matt had asked when Greyson had showed him the banquet event order he and Elijah had put together. “But we buy the best bread in the city… I mean, isn’t Alicia going to get mad that she’s losing our business for that event?”

“Elijah already talked to Alicia about it; she’s annoyed, but she gets it. These people want everything made in house, and trust me I told them that Alicia makes better bread than I’d ever be able to, but they didn’t care. They’re fuckin’ weird, Matt,” Greyson said, smoothing the piece of paper onto the prep table. “They want us to make them a cake, too. You did a stage at that bakery in Italy a couple summers ago, right?”

That was how Matt had ended up at the restaurant at oh-dark-thirty, using their decrepit Kitchenaid mixer to make some maybe-okay bread and a probably-not-great cake for a group that had no clue what the difference between a pastry chef and a regular one was. At least he’d be able to enjoy the evening off; it was a Saturday, it was summer, and he could already taste the cocktail he’d be sipping while the rest of the team was slaving away.

About three hours into mixing, proofing, and looking up recipes on his phone, Matt heard the back door of the kitchen slam open and then shut. He whipped his head towards the sound – Greyson wasn’t supposed to be in until nine, at the earliest. Who the fuck was here?

“HTSHH-ue! Huh! Hhh… huhITSZHUE!” Matt heard Elijah before he saw him, and winced when he did. Elijah had definitely seemed a little off yesterday, but the rest of the team figured that he was just nervous about this event and how picky the people paying for it were. Matt, at the very least, hadn’t assumed he was -

“HUHHHESTCHUE!” - sick.

“Bless you, Elijah,” Matt called from the prep kitchen. Elijah jumped at the phantom voice and wiped his nose on the back of his hand. He turned the corner to find Matt, covered in flour and frosting, and laughed.

“Thangks,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You doing okay with the whole… bread thing?”

Matt shrugged and motioned to the recipe on his phone. “I mean, if this bread recipe is good enough for The Barefoot Contessa, it should be good enough for these people, right?”

Elijah smiled, amused. “Right,” he said, turning to cough away from the prep kitchen entrance. Matt gave him a sympathetic look, and Elijah shrugged.

“You’re here early,” Matt said, scoring the tops of his rolls and covering the baking sheets in plastic for proofing. Elijah gave him a small smile.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said, sniffling. “Worried about this party tondight, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Matt hummed, noncommittal. Elijah and his boss were two sides of the same stubborn-ass coin, and there was no use reasoning with or forcing confessions of illness out of either of them. The only people they listened to were each other; their relationship was weird, it was codependent, but it worked so Matt didn’t question it. He hoped Greyson would be in soon.

“I’mb going to go work on the mbenus for tondight,” Elijah said, swallowing back a cough. “Holler if you ndeed mbe.”

Matt knew he wouldn’t need Elijah, but he nodded anyway. “Right back at ya.”

***

The sun had finally made its way to the middle of the sky when Greyson burst through the doors of the kitchen, his signature bull-in-a-china-shop style.

“Christ it’s hot out there,” Greyson moaned as he walked into the prep kitchen. Matt had finally finished the three-tiered cake and was working on making fondant letters to adorn the top. He looked up from his work to see his boss perusing the trays of rolls and cake tiers cooling in the prep kitchen’s reach-in refrigerator.

Greyson was looking especially disheveled this morning; he’d let his hair grow all the way to his shoulders this year – everyone on the stupid dating apps loves long hair, is what he’d said to Matt when he mentioned his boss had needed a haircut back in February – and it was pulled back into a messy ponytail today. He was in a cutoff t-shirt and cutoff shorts, flip-flops, and, frankly, looked more ready for a lazy day at the beach than the huge party he’d have to put out in a few hours.

“It’s August,” Matt said in response to Greyson’s gripe. “That’s, like, peak hot. Why are you wearing that?”

His boss turned to face Matt, gave himself a once over, and huffed out a little laugh. “Couldn’t sleep last night, so I ended up walking to a club. Went home with some girl and crashed at her place, passed out, didn’t have time to go back home, so you get flip-flop Greyson. I have a spare set of clothes in the office.”

Matt rolled his eyes, thinking of the conversation he’d had with Elijah earlier; two sides of the same coin.

“You all good on the bread, Master Baker?” Greyson asked, grinning at his own joke. Matt gave a little laugh through his nose.

“All good,” he said. “I just need help with the fucking frosting for this cake, I can’t seem to get it -”

“IGTSHZZ-ue!”

Matt’s head snapped up suddenly; his boss’s face was pressed into his elbow. The sous felt his heart sink. Not both of them.

A sick Elijah was fine. A sick Greyson was slightly more annoying, but also tolerable. But when both of them were sick, it was, to put it lightly, a nightmare.

“Shit, ‘scuse me, sorry, can’t stop fucking sneezing today,” Greyson said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

“Bless you,” Matt said, accusatory. “are you feeling okay?”

Greyson started to nod, then held up a finger as if to say, ‘hold on’. Matt waited a moment while his boss stood, waiting for another sneeze that didn’t seem to want to come. He let out a shaky breath and shook his head as if to clear it. “I’mb good,” he said, congestion already seeping into his voice. Matt had a sudden memory pop into his head – Greyson offering Elijah a bite of a short rib dish yesterday, then taking a bite himself from the same fork. Goddamn it, Greyson.

“Are you -”

“ITSZH-ue! HTSHH-uh! Fuckin – HGTSHH-ue!” Greyson suddenly collapsed into a volley of sneezes, covered only by a hand. He grimaced at the obvious mess he’d left behind and went to the sink to blow his nose and clean himself up.

“Fuck, Chef,” Matt said while Greyson washed his hands. While, like Elijah, there was no use trying to force a confession out of Greyson, Matt was much closer to the executive chef and couldn’t help accusing him. “Are you serious? This is so not the day for you to be fucking sick.”

“Oh, relax,” Greyson said, rolling his eyes. “I’mb ndot sick, it mbust be allergies or somethiii….INGTSHH-uhh! Fuck mbe,” Greyson moaned, pulling more paper towels out of the dispenser and blowing again.

“It’s not allergies,” Matt said. Greyson raised an eyebrow at his sous.

“Yeah? How do you know that, all-seeing eye?”

As if summoned, Elijah turned the corner into the prep kitchen at that moment. “Grey, good, you’re here,” he said, attempting to clear his throat. “Cand we go over verbiage for the mbenu tondight?”

Greyson pursed his lips and closed his eyes on seeing the GM. Matt’s eyes darted from Elijah to Greyson and back again, wondering how this was going to play out.

“What?” Elijah asked, sniffling.

“You fuckin’ asshole,” Greyson said, giving Elijah a little playful shove. “Why didn’t you tell me yesterday you were fuckin’ sick?”

“I’mb ndot sigck,” Elijah said, pathetically. Matt had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing; Elijah’s eyes were rimmed red, his nose was chapped from blowing, and since he’d walked through the door he hadn’t gone more than five minutes without sneezing. If you looked up ‘sick’ in the dictionary, there he’d be.

Greyson had no such tact and barked out a laugh in his boss’s face. “Yeah?” he asked, slapping a hand on Elijah’s forehead. The GM shook him off, but the damage was done. “You’re burning up,” Greyson said, his voice accusatory. Elijah flipped him the bird.

“I’mb ndot burning up, it’s just hot in the office,” Elijah said, taking a step back and crossing his arms. “Also, why the fuck are you dressed like you’re in a ndineties beach dramba?”

“I’m about to go change, but nice attempt at changing the subject,” Greyson said, leaning against the wall. “Seriously, have you taken anything?”

Elijah rolled his eyes, but nodded. “Just drop it,” Elijah said, his voice deadpan. “Why are you being such a dick about it, andyway? It’s ndot like -”

“HGTSH! HTSH! Huh… hh…”

“Oh, mbother fuck -”

“HUHESSTZCHUE!” Greyson doubled over to sneeze into his elbow, cutting his boss off not once, but twice. He gave Elijah a knowing glance over the crook of his arm and sniffled.

Elijah sighed, a congested, tired sound. “I… bless you,” he said.

“Thangks,” Greyson said, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Patient zero.”

“Fuck off,” Elijah said, shoving the chef. “Cand you please combe help mbe with these stupid mbenus?”

Greyson nodded, then turned back to Matt. “You said you’re all good, yeah?” he asked. Matt hadn’t; he needed help with the frosting, and wanted to make sure Greyson was okay with the way the rolls were proofing. But he nodded anyway; no use trying to separate the two of them while they were mid-squabble.

“I’m good,” Matt said. “I’ll come get you in a bit.”

Greyson nodded, then followed behind Elijah, muttering something about a plague rat. Matt could hear the slap Elijah bestowed upon him from across the kitchen.

***

Mark hated these types of events.

When he was younger, Mark had been a banquet captain for a hotel; a job he’d rather forget on most days. The nights were long, the people were always entirely too drunk, and although the pay was good, he dreaded every single shift.

Elijah had decided when the year began that Elliot’s had a goal of doing one full buyout banquet a month, a decision that made Mark’s heart sink, though he’d never let that on to his boss. Instead, he’d told Elijah all about his past banquet experience, showed the GM how to make a proper BEO, and volunteered to captain the events that his boss booked. He hated banquets, but he did love this tiny restaurant; he loved his staff and he loved his bosses and he wanted to make working there enjoyable for everyone.

Putting on a good face didn’t mean he hated it any less.

Mark yanked open the kitchen doors at noon the day of the event – an event he knew from the very moment of its booking was going to be a nightmare – and tried to get his game face on. He was going to be there until two in the morning, he was going to get his ass handed to him by some overinflated MLM Boss Babe, he was going to have to move the tables a hundred times… Mark shook his head to clear it. Becoming hyper-focused on how much this evening was going to suck wasn’t doing him any favors, that much he knew.

“Hey, Mark,” Matt said from the prep kitchen to his left. Mark stopped in his tracks and waved at the sous chef.

“Hi, Matt,” he said, smiling. “I thought you were supposed to be out of here by now? Didn’t you come in at like four in the morning?”

“Three,” Matt corrected, pulling a hand down his face in obvious exhaustion. “I’m trying to get out of here, but…” he trailed off, looking behind Mark in anticipation. Mark furrowed his brow and turned – nothing there.

“But…?” he prompted. Matt sighed.

“Greyson’s… on one,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “I can’t for the fuckin’ life of me get him to come back here.”

Mark chuckled. “When isn’t he on one?” he asked. Matt let loose a dark laugh as well. “What’s his problem?”

“HHUTSZHH-ue!”

Mark cocked his head towards the sound that came from the office in the front of the kitchen. Then, slowly, he turned back to Matt. “He’s not…”

“Both of them,” Matt answered, resting his head in his hand, an elbow propped on the prep table. “I thought maybe it wasn’t so bad when they came in this morning, but…”

“HGTSHH-uhh! Huh -”

“HTZSCHUE!”

First Elijah. Then Greyson. Rinse, repeat.

“Goddamn it,” Mark muttered. “Okay. I’ll go do damage control and send Greyson back here to check you out so you can go.”

Matt nodded. “Thanks, man,” he said, picking up a Sharpie and labeling a pan wrapped in plastic. Mark gave a nod back, and headed to the front of the kitchen.

Greyson and Elijah were both seated in the office, twin tissues held to their faces. Elijah was coughing like a man who’d just escaped a house fire, while Greyson seemed stuck in a sort of pre-sneeze torture. It would’ve been almost funny, if it weren’t so pathetic.

“Um,” Mark said, knocking on the open door and catching both his bosses off-guard. “Hey. Everything, uh… okay in here?”

Greyson let out a shaky, unresolved breath. “Yeah. All good. Hi,” he said, his voice low and stuffed-up. He hit Elijah in the arm, motioned up to Mark, and said, “Where are your mbanners?”

Elijah rolled his eyes and took a sip from a water cup of questionable age. “Hey, Mbark,” he said. The GM’s voice was nearly gone, and sounded raw, like his throat was on fire.

“You guys look great,” Mark joked, prompting a bark of a laugh from Greyson and a dead-eyed look from Elijah. “How the hell did you both manage to get sick overnight?”

“Well, sombeone was getti’g sick yesterday and didn’t tell mbe,” Greyson said, flashing a pointed look Elijah’s way. Elijah turned to the chef and placed his head in his hand; apparently, Mark was no longer invited to this conversation.

“You kndow what I was thinking,” Elijah said, his voice going out on the final syllable. He cleared his throat before continuing. “I was thinking, how do you kndow it was mbe who got you sick? Mbaybe you’re just projecting because you’re patient zero.”

“Elijah, I kndow you have a fever but let’s try to rembain in reality, shall we? You’re obviously patient zero because I was finde last ndight. You, on the other hand, were texti’g mbe ‘oh, mby allergies are so bad, I don’t know what’s bloomi’g but it -’ IGTSZZHUE! ETSHCHUE! Oh, fuckigg finally,” Greyson groaned, yanking more tissues from the box placed squarely between the two of them and blowing. Elijah coughed out a laugh.

“You were sayi’g?” he asked, smug. Greyson rolled his eyes from behind a tissue.

“Fugck off,” he said, turning back toward Mark, who assumed he’d been forgotten completely. “Did you ndeed sombething, Mbark?”

Mark nodded. “Yeah,” he said, “Matt said he needed to check out with you, Chef?”

“Oh, fugck I totally forgot Mbatt got here in the mbiddle of the ndight,” Greyson said, pushing himself to his feet too quickly. He caught hold of the desk, swaying slightly, and closed his eyes.

Elijah raised his eyebrows at Greyson, who got himself back together after a moment. “You gonnda mbake it?” he asked as the chef slowly opened his eyes. Greyson sneered.

“Screw you, Elijah, this shit is your fault,” he said, pushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead.

Elijah looked to Mark. “Cand you please tell me what kind of fever he’s sporting?” he asked. Mark set his jaw; he really didn’t want to get in the middle of this whole thing… but Elijah was his direct report. He didn’t have much choice; without warning the chef first, Mark placed a hand on Greyson’s forehead.

Greyson pulled away as quick as he could. “Back off,” he snarled, pushing past Mark to relieve Matt in the back kitchen. Mark shrank back as the chef breezed by; he really could be scary when he wanted to be.

“Sorry,” Elijah said when Greyson was out of earshot. “He shouldn’t be such an ass to you.”

Mark shrugged. “I get it. It sucks working when you don’t feel well. He definitely has a fever,” the floor manager said. Elijah nodded and Mark gave him a pointed look. “You look like you do, too.”

Elijah gave a little half-shrug back. “Ndothing I haven’t worked through before,” he said. “Huhh...HGTSHH-ue! Huh! ETSHZHUE!” The GM wrenched away from Mark to sneeze painfully towards the door. Mark flinched in sympathy.

“Bless,” he said. “So… how are we going to handle tonight?”

Elijah turned sluggishly back towards Mark and sniffled, an unproductive, squelching sound. “You tell mbe,” he said, his voice all but gone, “captaind.”

Fuck.

***

“You do it.”

“No fuckin’ way. This is on you, dude. I’m one foot out the door.”

“Matt, you’ve been saying that since two PM and now it’s ten. Clearly you’re not one foot out the door.”

Matt shot Mark a look, but he couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. But how the fuck could he have left earlier? When Greyson had come to the back kitchen to dismiss him hours before, the chef had nearly passed out just from the walk. He never would’ve said that he needed Matt to stay; he wasn’t that kind of guy. He was the guy who worked until he literally passed out without even asking for a hand to grab before he fell. Both he and Elijah were.

So, without being asked, Matt stayed for the event. He prepped with the line cooks, while Mark helped the servers prepare the dining room, and both of them attempted to corral their bosses into resting in the office.

“Are you sure you don’t ndeed mbe to at least sear off the short ribs?” Greyson had asked, white-knuckling the prep table that Matt was working at. “Seriously, Mbatt, you don’t have to do everythigg.”

“I don’t need you to sear the short ribs,” Matt said, gently guiding his boss back to a chair. “Please. Just sit down, it hurts me to watch you… breathe.”

“Mbark, at least let mbe fold ndapkins for your or something,” Elijah had insisted, swaying in the middle of the dining room. Mark had to nearly run to keep his boss from face-planting at the host stand.

“Lij, we have an army on,” Mark said. “Go rest, please. We’ll need you for service.”

The two ill men had eventually given up on asking to help their counterparts. The staff, a truly well-oiled machine, had worked around them, narrowly avoiding being coughed or sneezed on, until the event started.

Once the hosts of the event arrived, Greyson and Elijah pulled themselves together enough to at least look like figureheads. Greyson hoarsely shouted orders in the kitchen, while Elijah helped the servers organize their tables and schmoozed the hosts. Against all odds, it had gone smoothly, and once the food was out both Elijah and Greyson stumbled back into the office, sunk down into the waiting tablecloth nest, and passed out.

Which led them to now.

“I don’t want to wake them, dude,” Matt said. “They’re so mean when they’re sick.”

“Well obviously I don’t want to wake them, either,” Mark countered. “But one of us has to do it, the hosts aren’t going to leave till they can say goodb -”

“HGTSHH!” Greyson woke himself with a massive sneeze, which shook Elijah awake.

“Fuck, mbust you be so goddamn loud?” Elijah asked, his voice cracking. Greyson flashed him an annoyed look.

“Oh, mby sincere apologies, ndext time I have an uncontrollable bodily functiond occur I’ll mbake sure to think about your combfort beforehand,” he said, pushing his hair into a small bun on the back of his head.

“Mbuch appreciated,” Elijah said, slowly sitting up. The two of them turned, almost simultaneously, to the younger men standing at the door. “...yes?” Elijah asked.

Matt elbowed Mark, who gave him a fleeting dirty look. “Um,” Mark said, “the, uh, hosts wanted to say goodbye to you guys if you’re… up for it.”

Elijah nodded, but Greyson was the first to push himself to a standing position. “Just stay there, old mban, you’re sicker than mbe and obviously worse at keeping your germbs to yourself.” Greyson pushed past Mark and Matt, placing a hand on his sous chef’s shoulder before exiting the kitchen.

“Thangk you for stayi’g,” he said. “Ndow go hombe before I kick you out.”

Matt smiled a bit. “Yes, Chef,” he said. “Um… feel better.”

Greyson nodded and disappeared through the doors to the dining room. When Mark turned away from the swinging doors, Elijah was also standing.

“You go, too, Mbark,” he said, straightening his glasses and smoothing his sleep-wrinkled shirt as best he could. “We ndeed both of you well rested for the rest of the week. Great job tondi- IGTSZH-uhh! Snrf.” Elijah didn’t bother finishing his sentence, just smiled at Mark and rubbed his chapped nose.

“Bless,” Mark said, “and thank you. It did go well, didn’t it?”

“Well as it could’ve,” Elijah said, one hand on the swinging door. “Ndight,” he said, and followed behind Greyson.

Matt and Mark exchanged a knowing look when both their bosses exited the kitchen.

“We totally ran a restaurant today,” Matt said, a smile creeping onto his lips. Mark laughed.

“Yeah,” he said, “we kind of did, didn’t we?”

The moment of elation sat between them like a birthday balloon, bright and taut enough to pop, until they heard a massive, “HGTSHHZUE!” from the dining room, followed by coughing, followed by motherly-sounding tutting from the hosts of the event.

“Let’s get out of here,” Mark said, and Matt nodded.

“Before they change their minds,” he said.

The two of them rushed out the back of the kitchen into the late-summer-evening heat. “Hey,” Mark said, before they went their separate ways. “I know you’ve had a long day, but would you like to go get a drink with me?”

Matt smiled, and turned toward the other man. “Yeah,” he said, “yeah, I definitely would.”

#snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snez #snzblr #male cold #male snz #contagion #whiskeyswriting #coughing #vertigo #feverfic #fever

72 notes · View notes