#maybe they have but the radio do be mind-numbing

[annimoose]

*Job plays Cant Hurry Love*

Me: Holyfuckingshit is that a fucking

Electric Dreams

Reference???

[atyourmerci]

♡ Hook, line, and sinker (2) (sub!abby // follower req)

Basketball!abby X nerdy reader

Read pt.1 here

♡ ♡

Summary: Abby gets eager to get another study seshion in within days of seeing her last

Warnings: smut, MDNI, sub!abby, top!reader, abby is a whiny sub, orgasming from being untouched, lots of tongue???, my digital footprint is assfucked, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader

A/N: sorry I left yall on a cliffhanger but pt.3(finale) will undoubtedly be my favorite, I’ve had it planned from the beginning so hehe. I’m so glad you guys are enjoying it as much as I am. Love you like always, enjoy muah!

♡ ♡

She couldn’t even fucking look at you. Not a single glance. It’s as if her every pathetic whimper and plea would broadcast to the general public if she so much as looked your way.

It was pathetic, and a little comical to say the least. The power you held over her was obvious, and she knew it. It made her sick, the way she gave up so easily, broke down every wall, gave into you. But for fuck’s sake was it riveting, she couldn’t stop thinking of the intensity…how powerful yet slow you made it. How you worked your way into completing dissecting her.

She had never let any sexual manner have the chance of passion, intimacy. Sex was a goal to her. The intricacies getting to that destination were trivial to her. You fucked it all up, she started dwelling on it, growing obsessed of every detail you slowed masterfully.

She needed more.

♡ ♡

After a week of unmet glances and radio static you came to the conclusion that you completely wrecked the ox of a woman. All it took was a few words and your tongue to rip her out of her upheld perception of herself.

You tried fucking with her the second time you had class with her. Once, sure, maybe she was busy or concentrated for once, but twice? She was purposefully hiding, like a scared bunny from a predator.

You bumped into her walking out of class. If you could even call it a bump- more like you threw your body at her knowing that she couldn’t ignore it. At the touch of you she almost seized up, staring down at the floor in front of her, continuing her path. You threw her a teasing, “oh…sorry!” To which she returned with awkward mumbling, something along the lines of, “ah- uh-,” and continued almost in a run away from you.

You laughed it off. A few words and your tongue…fucking comical.

If avoiding her reality is the way that worked for her, so be it. There was no need to try to process her internal emotions- she couldn’t even do it. So, you let it die, you knew the type of person she was. You knew her dirty little secret.

♡ ♡

Another mind numbing night of studying till your eyes popped out of their sockets was in store for you. Staring at white pages filled with words and highlighting’s, fuck they could be in another language for all you knew at this hour.

It was getting late and you were about ready to throw the towel in, making it tomorrow mornings issue. You hear a buzz from your phone, rubbing your eyes you wonder who has the audacity to try speaking with you at this hour. “Abby Anderson,” illuminates on your face. At first you think you may be dreaming, your eyes weren’t working well at this point anymore.

A.A: Can we meet up this week, need help w the test

Now you need me?

A.A: huh

Nothing. Test isn’t for another 3 weeks… why do you want to start now?

A.A: need to get ahead

Mmm okay. Tomorrow at the library?

A.A: too loud

Okay coffee shop

A.A: I don’t like coffee

I didn’t ask

A.A: I’ll be over at your place tomorrow- 8

Little late for studying

A.A: do you ever shut up

If you promise you’ll be nice

A.A: I didn’t say that

I’m sure you’ll be a good girl

A.A: let me come over

See you at 8 tomorrow.

Only Abby Anderson would attempt to booty call you through a ruse of studying. She usually came knocking down your door the night before the test begging you for your help. Three weeks before was, well… pathetic.

♡ ♡

When she showed up at your dorm door, 8pm on the nose, she was more nervous than you had ever seen her. She blessed you with one weary glance as you whipped the door open, but continued her gaze down afterwards.

When she sat on the bed, for the first time she sat completely straight up, uncomfortably straight, folding her legs across and twiddling her fingers between her legs. A nervous habit you’d picked up from her on your last endeavor.

She never usually paid attention to your lecturing but fuck was it like she wasn’t even in the room this time. Throwing out quick “yeah’s” and “yup’s” on a routine after you’d say a thought.

You knew exactly what she came here for…but god was it fun to watch her squirm. You could’ve thrown her…okay maybe not thrown…but at least pushed her down on your bed so she didn’t have to do any work, give her the easy way out. But that would not have been amusing.

You’re in the middle of explaining a chemistry equation and- “can you just- do it,” she blurts out, stopping you completely in your tracks. You watch her intently, waiting for an elaboration you won’t get. Her eyes trained on her lap, waiting for you to pick up her scattered pieces and place them together.

��Do what abby?” You say faking curiosity. “You know,” she says in return. “I don’t think I do,” you taunt her. “Please-“ she says meekly. You begin to crawl silently towards her, moving her hands up from her lap so you can straddle her and move her hands back to tops of your thighs.

The sudden sensation causes her breath to hitch, her eyes watching her unwarranted hand placement on your thighs. You lightly grip her jawline so that she meets your eyes, just watching as her mouth opens in a pant.

“You make me nervous,” she says, if she could, she’d break your eye contact, but you wouldn’t let that happen.

“New game.”

She looks back at you puzzled, almost frightened. You grip your hand around her chin tighter, “you’re going to lay down, just like the last time, and I’m going lick every inch of you, and you’re going to tell me right where it’s sensitive, you understand?”

You watch as she gulps down a nervous breath, shaking her head rapidly, eyes dazed. “Good girl, now go lay down.” Her hands move to your hips, grasping down on the flesh desperately, “I can’t handle when you call me that-“

“No touching- or I stop.” She pulls her hands down quickly, moving her way to the back of your bed. “Y- okay. I-I promise.”

She looked like I child waiting to open presents on Christmas, eyes bright and wide, waiting for your command. This time you didn’t have to ask, she immediately ripped her shirt and sweats off, leaving her only in her sports bra and boxers adorned with a patch of slick forming in the center. You climb closer to her, kneeling between her thighs.

Just to toy with her further you slowly begin unbuttoning your blouse, her mouth starting to gape. Once it had been completely removed you started working on your shorts, slowly shimmying them down your thighs with your eyes trained onto her. She bit onto her lip watching as you were left only in your own bra and panties.

You climb back onto her, bare skin on bare skin. You wanted to tear into her, but taking your time to cut deep would be so much more rewarding. “You understand the rules?” You as watching her teeth cut into her lip, “mhm,” she replies through her closed mouth.

You lean into her, catching her shoulder with your tongue as she jolts into you. You feel her arms come up beside you but fall quickly. You trace it up to her collarbone, letting your teeth graze the thin skin there, following to where they met in the middle. You trail it up the middle of her throat, feeling the vibration of her breath.

“C-close,” she breaths out. You redirect to the side of her neck, right on the pulse. You already knew it was sensitive there but…it was fun.

“Fuck there,” she breathes out. You take your time licking down the throb, nipping at it, teasing the threat, eliciting as many little whimpers you can get out of her. Once you’ve had your fun you move up, catching the lobe of her ear with your teeth, “holy fuck- yeah there,” she groans out.

You bring your mouth into her ear, whispering gently into it as your hand snakes against the opposite side of her neck, “what? No ones ever touched you here?”

She groans back at you, “n-no. Never.” You return back to the shell of her ear, nipping at the surrounding flesh.

You begin your decent, your clothed cunt reaching hers, “take this off for me pretty,” you say outlining her bra with your fingertips. She feverishly nods tossing it off of her. You lean into her chest, taking no time to meet your tongue to her rose pink bud. Her body jolts up at the sensation, her chest growing a deep shade of pink.

“There. Right there!” You begin circling it, saturating it with your spit, “I know baby,” you say glancing back into her eyes, lidded trying to keep them open so she can watch you, but it was getting so so hard.

Your teeth latch onto it, encasing the bud gently. Flushed red as the blood raced to them, teeth purpling dots into the soft flesh. The whimpers falling off her pathetic throat.

“You k-know you c-ant talk to me like that,” you watch as her hands grip into the sheets, knuckles whitening. “You can come baby, I won’t be mad.” Your fingers come up to twist her untouched nipple as you lap your tongue at the swollen one in your mouth.

The pool of your own arousal soaking into hers, even covered you can feel the pulsing of her, repeated by your own.

“I- I can’t.” She pants out as her hips buck up into your clothed core. “Yes you can, you’re being such a good girl, show me how good you feel.”

“Please- no n-not like this.” Her head drops into your pillow…she’s so fucking close. The red on her chest now trailing up her neck.

“Come for me pretty girl, just like that, rub that pretty pussy into me.” She begins shaking, trying to stop herself, but it was too late.

“Fffffffuckkkkkkkk,” she begins reeling, whimpering through her reluctant orgasm. Her hips grind into yours as her chest splattered with beads of sweat rapidly rises and falls. “Good girl, keep going.” She rides it out as long as she can, chasing her own pathetic untouched high.

Once she settles she glances up at you dazed, as if she wasn’t sure what had just happened. You stare back smugly, sure of your power.

“That was- embarrassing.” She ashamedly shakes her head, letting the tight grip of the sheets go. “Quite hot on the contrary,” you dismiss. “God if anyone ever-“ she begins to protest.

“Let me show you how it makes me feel,” you cut her off, dismantling yourself from her so that your legs frame around hers, wide open.

Your own pool of slick dripping out the sides of your thin panties. She gawks at the site, unable to remove her gaze from the sense of familiarity. The feeling of intensity so tight you cant stop yourself from the natural reaction.

“Can I-“ she begins to reach out to you but you cut her short, “no.” You dismiss her with no room for discussion.

This wasn’t about your secret. It was about hers.

Follower req by: @ghgygd

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson5 @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed @shewantstoknow

[jeon-ify]

thoughts - choi san ft. mingi (part 2)

a/n: idk girl… i kinda want mingi to fuck her with tied up san and make him watch 😩

warnings: mean!dom mingi, sub!tied up san, swearing, pussy slapping, fingering, squirting, mingi fucks reader in front of san, spit play, face slapping, degradation, titty slapping, etc. if i missed anything lmk !

enjoy! not proofread :)

—————————————————————————————

the 2 weeks went by extremely fast, considering how you’ve spent it with san the entire time— in and out of his dorm. you felt guilty, but he was filling that void for you.

the drive to the airport felt like a dread. you wanted mingi to come back, honestly. but you didn’t want to go back to the vanilla sex that you’d been having with your boyfriend from this point on. you pull into the lane with doubt, maybe he’s upped his sex game, maybe he doesn’t want sex anymore. you think about ways to bring up the topic, but it just doesn’t flow.

you swerve into the lane to wait for mingi. after 20 minutes, you get out of the car and wait in the airport lobby for him. he arrives shortly, running to hug you and seeming so tired after working so hard. he wanted to surprise you with his project, but the last thing that was on your mind throughout those two weeks were what he was doing in japan.

“my baby, i missed you so much! how was japan?” you exclaim. he hugs you tightly, kissing you all over your face. your heart ached before him, not knowing how to handle the guilt.

how could you?

“it was so great, but i missed you so much, y/n.” he relaxes his head on your shoulder through the hug, your body warmth making him sleepy.

you carry his backpack and take his duffles to the car as he follows you out. he sits beside you, turning up the radio and listening to your playlist. “what’d you do while i was gone? we barely spoke.”

his head turns to face you as he questions you. it feels like you’re being convicted of a felony, your heart falls to your ass as you try to come up with a lie. he watches your breathing change and your face flush with red.

“honestly i was super bored. i…” you pause, taking in a deep breath and chuckling before continuing your bullshit, “don’t know how i managed. how was your filmmaking? was it exciting?”

he stays quiet, his face straight, plastered with suspicion.

“it was exciting, thanks. what’d you do the day i left? yeosang said you stopped by. what was that about?” you literally cannot come up with anything else, so you decide to ‘tell the truth’.

“i was bored so i hung out with wooyoung and jongho for a little bit but then i went home, why?” you reach a red light as mingi grabs your thigh, squeezing tightly. he squeezes almost too tight that it begins to hurt.

“mm, but they weren’t at the house, y/n. what were you doing there?” he looks out the window, trying to think of what he’ll do when you confess and make it easier so he’s not worried about if you’re cheating or not— he’d just know. he hopes he’s wrong, though.

“n-no. mingi, you’re hurting me.” he squeezes your inner thigh as the car swerves just a little bit out of the lane. you feel like he’s gonna rip a chunk of your thigh off of you, tears welling up in your eyes.

“yeah? it didn’t hurt me when i heard you on the phone fucking san? do you think i’m stupid, y/n? i told you not to go near san, didn’t i?” you fall silent as your ears begin to ring.

he knew.

but san didn’t say anything?

but he heard your voice.

“fucking answer me,” he brings his hand up to your throat to cut off your airways as a threat to make you speak.

“y-yes,” you gasp. you literally feel like your body gave up on you as your limbs all fall numb into mingi’s touch.

“why are you fucking my friends? the one friend i told you to fucking stay away from. he’s married, hm? you’re home-wrecking, darling. are you a whore? are you san’s whore?”

“n-no, mingi, please,” you moan. he lets you go as you pull into the driveway of your home, seeing a familiar car parked in the front.

leaving all his luggage in the trunk, he slams the door closed as he goes to open your door. he pulls you out by your wrist, slamming the door shut behind you and dragging you into the house. you stop in your tracks when you see a familiar pair of shoes on the doormat.

“keep walking.” he demands. your legs shake in fear and somehow, arousal. mingi has never been this rough with you, and somehow it sends a shock down to your core.

you slowly walk over to your shared bedroom, opening the door and seeing what you thought you’d never see— san on your bed.

you stop and stare at the man on mingi’s side of the bed. he’s sat up straight with his hands tied behind his back, his feet tied together, and a black piece of duct tape on his mouth. a layer of sweat envelopes his toned torso, his black hair slowly moves with every breath he takes. the silver chain he wears is now covered in beads of sweat as the veins in his neck become more prominent. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t want to bounce on his dick at that given moment.

you feel mingi’s chest press against your back as his hand moves to wrap itself around your throat. he feels your heartbeat through your neck, gulping in fear.

“what’s wrong, baby? cat got your tongue?” his deep voice grumbles in your ear. his teeth graze against your ear, sending chills down your body.

“m-mingi, what’s going on?” you shake and try to break away from mingi’s grasp, not breaking eye contact with the man tied up on your boyfriend’s side of the bed.

“you thought i wouldn’t know if you were whoring around with my friends? i’m many things, but i’m not stupid.” he lets go of you, shoving you further into the room and closer to san.

you hear san whimper, his head thrown back in irritation from how he can’t fuck you into oblivion in front of your boyfriend.

san loved so many things about you— but what he loved the most was how turned on he gets whenever you get helpless. you’re like a brainless whore he wants to fuck over and over— just for him to use.

it’s almost like a continuous battle between the two— and hopefully, your boyfriend would win. you’re rooting for him.

san groans something that you make out to say “take this off,” but he’s enjoying every minute of it. he feels like he’s gonna cum in his pants from the way mingi is undressing you.

mingi takes your sweats off first, then proceeds to taking off your tanktop. you gasp and try to cover your chest as he takes your bra off with only one hand. when he sees your hands fly up to cover yourself, he pins your wrist between his large hands.

“let’s not act all modest now, y/n.”

he proceeds to sliding your soaked panties off, a string of arousal connected to your pussy makes mingi groan, and san’s eyes roll.

mingi pulls you by your hair and bends you over the dresser in front of san. he stands beside your bare body, staring at san through the reflection of the mirror. both of their breaths pick up at the sight, mingi glaring at san and watching him stare at his naked girlfriend.

“i’m gonna ask you once, y/n. is he better?” mingi challenges you in answering the question you fear your life to answer. of course san was better at sex, but you’d never admit to your boyfriend.

“fuck! no, please—“ you feel your legs weaken as mingi plunges two fingers into your sopping cunt, not giving you the chance to answer his question. he lands a sharp slap onto your cunt, making your body shiver.

“no?” his fingers move quickly, feeling the way you’re about to cum all over his fingers. he feels you sucking him in and clenching around his long fingers, so he pulls out before you could release.

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry, mingi.” your breath hitches as you cry out in desperation for a release— and a hint of guilt. you literally feel like karma is biting you in the ass, no matter how pleasured you are.

with your juices all over his middle fingers, mingi’s tall and lean figure walks over to san and rips the tape off of his face. san winces in pain, a smirk plastered all over his face. a soft red tint blankets his skin as he takes in a deep breath and licks his puffy lips.

“open— there you go. taste my girlfriend’s cum all over my fingers.” mingi groans— impossibly but somehow possibly— growing harder at the action of his friend sucking your precum off his fingers.

“she tastes phenomenal, mingi. you’ve missed out.” san breathes out deeply after mingi releases his fingers with a pop. you watch the entire scene happen before you, your thighs clenching with need. you’re taken aback when mingi grips the back of san’s head, forcing him to stand up straight.

“y/n, come here.” you follow his command weakly. you immediately fall to your knees before the two men, legs shaking as mingi moves the strand of hair that delicately falls on your forehead. he makes you seem so innocent, but he knows, and so do you and san know, that that is far from what you are.

san watches as you drool before your boyfriend. “open your mouth, pretty girl,” san speaks up as he lands a wad of spit onto your tongue. you swallow with pride, watching mingi glare at the encounter before him.

“you just open your mouth to anyone, mm?” mingi is upset, but san is so fucking turned on, he literally feels like he’s gonna explode.

you (un)intentionally unzip mingi’s pants, looking san in the eyes. you pull the band of his boxers down, revealing his aching cock, just for you to claim into your throat. you lick a long stripe up the length, not breaking eye contact with san as you so whore-ishly suck on your boyfriend’s cock.

“thinking of me, butterfly? remember me when you fuck him, ‘kay?” the man says as you take mingi’s entire length into your mouth, the aching tip touching the back of your throat making your eyes water.

as his hand starts forming a makeshift ponytail and pushing your head down, san wishing he can break free from the restrains on his hands. he so badly wants to pull out his painful cock and start stroking himself before the both of you.

“mingi, you’re so big. how’s she gonna take you?” san questions, his breath hitching and deepening.

“she’s been stretched out enough. i’m sure you’re loose now from all the dick you’ve been taking while i was gone, yeah?” he pulls you off of his length to throw you onto the bed like a ragdoll.

you gasp at the action, san’s head turning to face you as he whines.

“please, untie me. wanna cum so bad.”

mingi ignores his friend’s cries, moving down to spit on your abused cunt. he slides his tank top off, throwing it somewhere in the room as he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. a sign of care slightly shows in mingi’s eyes, but the way he plunges his cock so hard into you immediately blocks out the kind gesture he gave you. your legs jolt at the powerful and radical thrusts that mingi gives you, crying out for mercy.

“fuck, mingi sl-slow down! it hurts,” you’re not sure if you want him to stop, but it hurts so good.

he lands a painfully sharp slap onto your right tit, making you wince out in pain and pleasure.

“yeah? but you can fuck san for days and not say anything? who’s hurt, darling? which one of us is really hurt?” you feel so fucking guilty. your eyes well up in tears as you try to apologize, because mingi’s given you nothing but love, respect, support, and most of all, he understood you the way no one else could.

how could you do something so terrible to him?

“i’m sorry! i’m so fucking sorry-“ you’re reaching your orgasm, cumming on the base of mingi’s cock. he feels you clenching around him as his thrusts come to a slow. his hand rubs on the red area on your chest, leaving a kiss on the irritated spot.

“yeah? how sorry? use your words,” his deep voice is so beautiful, it almost makes you cum again from the way he’s talking in your ear.

“f-for fucking your friends, i— fuck, please—“ you cry out.

while san watches, a spot on his pants becomes a darker shade, indicating that he literally came in his pants. he’s been moaning and whining and whimpering, all while mingi fucks you senseless.

“listen to me, hyung. if you ever get near my girl again, i’ll fucking kill you, you hear me?” mingi doesn’t face san, nor does he blink. he doesn’t break eye contact with you as he pounds into you deeply, hitting your cervix over and over, making you squirt around him and staining his sheets. his hand caresses your cheek as his warm minty breath fans into your face. his eyes roll to the back of his head, listening to your cries.

san doesn’t answer. instead, he groans and tries to wriggle his hands out of the restraints. he watches his friend fuck you hard, wishing it were him. he’s fucked you all 14 days, he just can’t get enough.

neither can mingi— as he licks up the tears that flow onto your cheeks.

“why are you crying, hm? do you feel sorry for being a slut behind my back?” mingi’s faux concern masks his lust, making you clench around him for the fourth time tonight.

“you’re clenching me so tight, oh my goddd, ‘m not going anywhere,” he pulls out before you can cum around him, standing up to untie san.

“fuck, thank you, mingi.” san hurries to take his pants off and stand before you, stroking his painfully hard cock. mingi watches as san gets off on his own girlfriend, not understanding how he hasn’t killed him yet for looking at you.

“you can fuck her, and don’t hold back. she likes it hard.” mingi speaks up, making your heart drop to your ass as you’re about to cheat on your boyfriend again, in front of him.

“m-mings—“ you’re silenced by san’s hand around your mouth as he immediately plunges his long and familiar cock into your wet, stretched out pussy. he pounds into you almost in an animalistic manner, making your vision cloud and your stomach clench from the painful orgasm.

“don’t call out for him, i’m the one fucking you, look at me.” he groans out as he grabs your chin, forcing you to watch him fuck you again.

mingi sits where san was, jerking off his long and hard length from how hot it was that you were so helpless and ‘innocent’ from fucking someone else.

“slap her.”

san lands a sharp slap on the left side of your face, grabbing your jaw and moving you back into place just to slap you again.

he repeats the action one more time as you slap him back. his thrusts stop. feeling disrespected and taken aback, san thrusts into you harder as your body jolts and shakes. you squirt again, all over san as mingi whimpers and groans from beside you.

“shit! i’m cumming, fucking cumming, mingi. where—“ you whine out again, mingi standing up and reaching his orgasm as well.

“me too, fuck— cum on her tits, all over her.”

“cum all over me, please—“ you whine out with a dry throat while both men release their load all over your chest, even on your chin.

“so much cum, just for my bitch, yeah?” mingi groans breathily as you nod for him in response.

san walks away to clean up and put his clothes on in the bathroom, leaving the two of you alone.

“go near that fucker again, i’ll kill the both of you in a heartbeat. am i clear?” he says with a doe eyed smile as if he was a puppy, planting a kiss on your plump lips.

“y-yes.”

————

i—

my god.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

[railingsofsorrow]

open the door

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer visits you after three days of radio silence. and he will stand by your door until you open it.

pairing: s.reid x reader

w.c: 1.4K

warnings/content: descriptions of a depressive episode (people have different experiences, this is based on mine); poor writing probably; angst, fluff.

navi

masterpost

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“Open the door.”

Spencer is not one to be incisive. He's certain about his opinions and makes them known at the right time. He's not rude or forceful, unless someone touched a sore spot of his then he'll make sure to let them know a piece of his mind.

He's not being rude by showing up at your apartment past seven in the evening. He's not forceful because he's knocking non-stop at your door. Spencer knows you're home, he knows you probably can't get up from wherever you are because maybe you don't have the strength to do it.

He swallows up the guilt and knocks one more time, grimacing. Last time someone did that to him he left them hanging. Three days later there were at least two casseroles filled with spoiled food.

And then, in the hostile silence he's been presented with, comes through your muffled and faint voice, “I don't want to talk to anybody.”

Spencer leans his forehead away from your apartment door, where it had been resting for the past ten minutes or so. Twenty, perhaps. He would stay five hours, days even, if it meant you'd speak to him.

His hands press against the wood if they would make it vanish. “It's not anybody. It's me.” Spencer says softly, begging. “It's just me. Please, open the door.”

“Go home.”

He can't.

“I'm sorry. I have to see you.”

Nothing.

He thought you had given up on him and decided to just let him talk to the door. Until he hears the sound of key dangling and his heart leaped inside his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice is hoarse. It wasn't hard to hear because it was being muffled by the door, but it sounded rough as if you hadn't drunk water in a couple of hours. Spencer wants to ask if you have eaten or drank anything today. He felt like he knew the answers by the dark bags under your eyes and your pale features.

“I came to see you.”

“Did Penelope put you up to this?” You ask, munching on your lower lip. “Tell her to stop texting and calling, I replied once.”

“That was three days ago.” Spencer says, brows furrowing.

You let out a scoff, “Wasn't aware you needed daily reports. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.”

He put his foot between the door and the wall, stopping you from closing it on his face. “Please,” Spencer pleads, helplessly. Your hold on the handle weakened. “I just— I just need to see you.”

But it's way more than that. Spencer is the kind of person who is there for all of his friends and he wants to help them in any way that he can. He understood space and he gave it to you when you needed it. But, deep down, you craved human contact, you needed someone else. Being alone could be suffocating even though most of the times in your hard days felt like you could face the worst on your own.

You can.

You just didn't want to.

To admit that to yourself is another thing entirely. The numbness spoke louder than your own voice, sometimes.

He's seeing you, through the small space you spared him at your apartment door. But he needs to be there. For ten minutes. Five. Just to make sure.

Shame creeps up on you as he stands inside your place. Spencer is a contrast against the mess in your living room. Ripped newspapers scattered around your floor, broken glass in a corner, the duvet thrown over the arm of the couch and a pillow on the coffee table.

This is how you are on the inside, crumbling down, broken. He says something but you are too busy staring at the teardrops at your window. It's raining.

“What?” You turn to him, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You notice he is still in the same place since he came in, near the door as if waiting for you to kick him out any time. “Spencer, sit down.” You sigh, mentioning the loveseat as you let your body sink on the sofa for the third time that day. You hadn't really left it for any other reason beside going to the bathroom against your will and drinking water. Although you can't remember the last time you had the latter.

“Have you eaten something?” He inquires, placing his work bag on the floor as he sat down, eyes traveling across your fragile frame. He just wants to hold you. Make it all go away. “I could order something or I could—”

“You don't have to babysit me.

His shoulders slump. “That's not what I'm doing.” He gets now how his team felt whenever they tried to visit him while he was in a tough moment.

You're curled up to your pillow, face buried on the soft fabric. Fluttering one eye open, you caught his gaze on you. He approaches you slowly; you are a caged animal and he wants to let you free, if only you'd let him get close enough.

“If I'm making you feel uncomfortable,” he begins, fidgeting nervously. “I can go.” His hesitation causes you to squirm in your laid position.

“No.” You mumble, clearing your throat and then grunting because it hurts. “It's— you’re fine, Spencer. I just can't—”

“I know.” He cuts you off upon noticing your struggling.

I just can't be myself right now.

He feels an apology slipping out by your furrowed forehead and pursed lips. “I want to be here. For you. Is that okay?”

You nod because that's all you can do. And your fingers find his in a timid touch.

“Yeah.”

His eyes smile before his mouth does and you feel a glimpse of joy stirring up your cold body. This is nice. You think.

“Okay. I have something in mind.” He backs up slightly. “Am I allowed in your kitchen?” He asked as if he hadn't been in your place countless times before.

You press your chin against the pillow, blinking up at your coworker — genius presented with an IQ of 184, a decent shooting aim, child prodigy and an expert on many areas, academic or not.

Except in the kitchen aspect. Spencer is not gifted in that.

“Spencer,” you attempt the gentlest tone you could muster. “you can't cook.”

He regards you with an offended look, lips jutting out in a pout. “I can cook.” You raise an eyebrow in disbelief and he rolls his eyes. “Two dishes. I can. I promise I won't burn your place down.”

“Please don't,” you muse, laying down again even though you would be getting up any time now to keep a watchful eye on him as he... cooked. “I don't have anywhere else to go.”

Spencer's head tilts to the side, his considering your statement carefully or something else entirely. One of his hands move forward to graze it across your cheek, he expects any indication that you don't want to be touched but you only shut your eyes and wait.

“You're always welcome at my place.” I'm here, he thinks to himself, hoping you are hearing his thoughts. I'm always here for you please don't forget it. I care so much.

A faint hum of satisfaction leave your lips as he travels his thumb across your cheek.

“In this case, yes, you're allowed in my kitchen.”

His grin is almost contagious. Almost. “Great. Don't get up until I gather the glass. I don't want you to hurt yourself.” With a kiss on your forehead, he scrambles up with difficulty as his knees complain. He walks to your kitchen mumbling something loudly about his day so you could hear it.

You stare at your messy living room, the reflection of the broken cup staring back at you in the dim lighting.

As Spencer collects the glass pieces with a broom, you stand up to pick up your stuff and some dirty clothing that needs to be washed. You can't remember how long you were wearing that same jumper and sweater pants, so your next step would be to take a shower.

When you step into your bedroom, a pair of clothes is waiting for you at your bed. You smile after so long without doing it.

Maybe it's not awful to have someone be there for you, if it meant it was him.

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taglist: @lilyviolets

[cheriladycl01]

I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕💕

The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader

Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.

A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!

You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.

Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.

They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.

You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.

It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.

Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.

They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.

However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.

"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.

There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.

"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.

It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.

He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.

"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.

"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.

Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.

The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.

He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.

"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.

"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.

"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.

Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.

He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.

For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.

"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.

"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.

"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.

"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.

"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.

"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.

"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.

"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.

"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.

"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.

"I know, I just worry about you!"

"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[dontsh0vethesun]

the good samaritan

kinktober 2023 masterlist

natasha romanoff x hitchhiker!reader

18+: drugging, kidnap, restraints, gag, smut; noncon kissing, dubcon fingering, brief daddy kink, corruption

wc: 1.8k

Making your way home in the dark had never been something you wanted to do, especially not with a phone drained of its battery and an evening chill littering your skin with goosebumps. The breeze and the sporadic rumblings from behind the greying clouds let you know the best was yet to come. Freezing droplets dampening your face as soon as they fell.

You’d never have even considered trying to flag down a driver but you’d not been stranded in a building storm before. And the knowledge of the safety of the area didn’t quell the fear in your mind when your outstretched arm lifted a thumb over the edge of the pavement. You pulled your jacket around yourself as much as you could as your shoes gathered water, scuffing against the concrete of loose slabs, idly kicking pebbled debris into the road with headlights reflecting in the coating of rain.

Some had the cheek to begin to slow down, maybe offering a pitied shrug before their tires spat water from the tarmac and they sped away. The bobbing of your legs didn’t do much to warm you up, bouncing on the balls of your feet for any semblance of movement as you watched each exhale form before you in puffs of white.

It was a Corvette that finally came to a stop beside you, sleek and black metal shining with raindrops and a window rolling down to show the smiling face of a helpful stranger.

“Hi, honey. Need a ride?” Her voice was husky and smooth with fiery hair framing her face and emerald eyes glowing beneath the lamplight.

“Please. If it’s not too much to ask.”

“Of course not,” she grinned, charming and kind. “Here, get in, you’ll catch a chill.”

She reached across to push the door open for you and the warmth was much needed to combat your freezing state. The scents of leather seats and spiced perfume swam around you and her smile looked even prettier up close.

“Thank you so much - my phone battery died and there’s still a long walk back to my apartment so you’re really doing me a favour.”

“Anything to help a damsel in distress,” she smirked and your cheeks heated embarrassingly. “I’m Natasha.”

“Y/N.” Her hand was strong when she shook yours with the small creak of her leather jacket as she reached over to you.

“Are you in a rush to get back to a boyfriend or anything?”

“Oh, no.” You shook your head as she pulled away from the curb. “Just an empty house.” And that was your first mistake.

“Then how does hot chocolate sound? I know a diner not too far from here and it’ll do good to warm you up.”

“Yeah, sure. That’d be nice actually.”

Perhaps, in retrospect, leaving the diner’s table to go to the bathroom wasn’t a wise idea. But, the kind eyes and conversation of the friendly woman across from you made you comfortable. There was no creeping thought in your mind that you’d return to finish your drink as she watched intensely, that once you were in her car again the music on the radio would fade in and out of your mind, growing cloudy and as blurred as the headlights of the other cars driving towards you.

Accepting a ride from a beautiful woman wasn’t something you’d apprehended with a sense of nervousness, it had come naturally to you to regard her kindness gratefully without fear you’d lose all semblance of judgment and clarity when she missed the turning that made its way to your street. Any utterings of her mistake were hardly audible, just slurred mumbles falling from numb lips as your heavy head leaned against the window.

A friendly offer can only be so friendly you suppose, things in this world seldom come without a price to pay - a darkened shadow overhead. Gracefully taking her offer caused your eyes to blink open a while later, confused and unaware of the time to follow.

Her bedroom’s ceiling light was harsh against your bleary sight and tears soon fell at the sinking in of the reality of the situation you’d been harshly dragged into. It didn’t take a completely focused head to notice the tightness of rope bound around your wrists, nor the coolness of the air against your skin - the breeze from the slightly cracked window that would not be felt if you hadn’t awoken in your underwear.

The wooden frame of her bed was uncomfortable against your back and the redhead merely smiled at the way you attempted to fight for freedom.

It took a moment to comprehend it all, to take in the sight of the foreign room you’d been brought to, the feeling of material clenched between your teeth and the eyes that regarded your half-naked body. The pleading look you directed towards Natasha through your eyes that spilled tears along your cheeks made her huff a humourless laugh.

“Don’t cry, honey,” she cooed, reaching a hand to cup your cheek with a softness you didn’t expect. She wiped the droplet from your skin as though she truly cared and in the haze that was your befogged mind you couldn’t help but slightly succumb to her whims.

Mumbles of your pleading for reprieve - questions of why - were muffled and obscured with the makeshift gag she’d forced past your slack jaw during unconsciousness. Why was she doing this? What was she planning next? All posed without answer. You couldn’t help but take in the sight before you, despite the vulnerably exposed pose she had you in, the contours of her biceps with each move she made and the vest top that pulled tightly over her chest.

“Like what you see?” she mocked, watching where your eyes drank her in. Perhaps you won’t be so hard to break after all.

Your body shook with fear and Natasha adored the sight. She loved how helpless you looked, glistening eyes begging, shrinking into yourself with small flinches at her every move.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” she breathed. You let her pull the fabric past your lips, swiping your tongue over the chapping skin. Somehow, you believed her. “You’ve just gotta behave, okay? No screaming. Just sit and look pretty - can you do that for me?”

“Y-yes,” you nodded, failing with the attempt you made to wipe your face from tears. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You didn’t want to get on her bad side. You didn’t want to imagine the kinds of things that she might do; it wasn’t too difficult to appease her considering the kindness she’d already shown you. You wondered what someone might think if they caught a glimpse at the inner workings of your mind - the fact that you weren’t as terrified as you probably should be. That the attractiveness of the redhead deterred such emotion.

“Good girl,” she smiled, bringing a freshly cracked open bottle of water to your lips to help you drink. It was a cool relief against the dry and scratchy throat that had developed.

“Why are you doing this to me?”

“No. No questions,” she returned quickly, looking at you with a harshness she’d been keeping at bay.

“You can’t just do this,” you muttered. “You drugged me - brought me here against my will, you-“

Anything else you were about to say was soon halted with her lips on yours. She was strong and her kiss didn’t differ. The weak push you gave her did nothing to get her away from you and the rough hold she had on either side of your face didn’t let up, whatever she wants she takes and you were no different.

It was pure luck that the woman had come across such a pretty thing just begging to be captured. A crime of opportunity. The sweetness in your eyes and the comfortable conversation only let her know she’d made the right choice. She watched you unknowingly swallow down the hot chocolate she’d laced and observed musingly at the drowsiness that set in, taking in the uselessness of your slumped limbs in her passenger seat.

And now she revelled in your unmoving lips against hers, the way you stiffened up before finally giving in. Your lips moved with hers reluctantly, tentatively at first until you couldn’t help but be lured into her, to let her push her tongue against yours dominantly and take the sweet, forbidden fruit she craved.

With the way she took control of your mind you stopped shrinking away, even trying to pull her closer with a fumbling hold on her shirt. She smiled against you and let you pull her into you, taking her place with her knees either side of you with her teeth biting into your bottom lip when she pulled away for breath.

“See? I’m not so bad, am I, sweet girl?” She murmured against your throat, licking her tongue across the thin skin, scraping her teeth and digging them in to leave her mark behind.

You shook your head in response, letting her use you while you sighed out in pleasure despite every sensible part of you willing yourself to realise this was wrong. But if it was so terrible, why did it feel so good? Why did the touch of a stranger ignite a fire within you that only lovers had? How could you let her inch her hands downwards if this was so wrong?

Her fingers stroked down your waist as though she was familiar with the terrain, nails digging into the skin until they reached your underwear.

“I’m gonna break you down,” she rasped against your collarbone. “Bit by bit.”

She pushed the damp material that covered your cunt aside to swipe her fingertips through the slickness of your slit. “Until all you know is me - all you can remember is me.”

She toyed with your clit that ached with a filthy desire to be paid attention to, focusing solely on the bud while you moaned out at the feeling. She took you by force and consumed you entirely and it made your head swim - your stomach clench in a begging need for release.

Each action of her digits pulled you into a dangerous ocean of pleasure, bringing you headfirst into a new reality you don’t want to escape anymore.

“All you need to know is how good it feels when daddy fucks you,” Natasha breathed against the shell of your ear, completely enamoured with the sounds she pulled from you and the rutting of your hips. “You’re my little toy now, sweetheart. All for daddy.”

The roughness of her voice and the heat of her breath on your neck was too much to handle; the pace she’d kept up on your swollen clit brought you over the edge into an orgasm that had you seeing stars and you rewarded her with pathetic murmurings of her name.

Before you’d even had a chance to catch your breath it was stolen again with her lips on yours. She was eager and ravenous and you were going to let her take all she wanted, giving yourself up to the older woman who wanted to devour you whole.

When you pulled apart once more you locked eyes with hers, the darkness that had taken over them was unmistakable and it let you know that she wasn’t quite done with you for tonight.

[calp0sa]

Favorite Headcanons for airy?

i have like 10 million headcanons for him but i’ll list as many as i can from the top of my head

-hes autistic LIKE ME!!! and is specifically very autistic about music (like meee) i like to think he had a huge collection of vinyls cds cassettes etc and its all stuff from the 60s to the early 90s. no doubt he had a bunch of posters for his favorite bands and musicians too. and hes awesome on the guitar, great rhythm guitarist… its a shame he couldn’t make his talent a profession like he once dreamed of doing. oh well, at least the number 1 perk of trucking is that its peaceful and you dont really have to interact with many people! plus trucks have radios, and cd players, so airy would often bring along a few albums to listen to as he drove those long days and nights.

-hes also got a knack for aquatic creatures (LIKE ME) of course, being a literal fish monster himself (cool fact my airy design is like actually a fish monster he can breathe underwater and everything and his limbs are covered in fish scales) airy loves fish both as friends and food. hes particularly fond of freshwater fish, which makes sense considering the fact he grew up around the swamps of louisiana (yes im making him louisianan Like Me shaddap) hes also fond of those fucked up looking deep sea creatures, just so fascinating. i think airy liked to do a little fishing in his spare time. And hes awesome at cooking em but fair warning for those with a low spice tolerance… he loves spicy food btw (like meeeee)

-when airy was in the forest, he kept a log of his thoughts on the computer, in an attempt to hopefully give himself whatever clarity he could. the notes ranged from all brief, to desperate, to hopeless, to spiraling, to borderline dadaist poetry? to insanity, to denial, to whatever, really i think his mind was obviously all over the place on a daily basis. things must have been pretty loud for him, that cassette player was probably one of the only things keeping him together, before he numbed himself n all, which is around the time he ceased writing these notes as he saw no point in doing so.

-ok enough about him suffering we’ll get back to that later Airy’s favorite drink is ginger ale i mean look at that guy and tell me he doesnt fw ginger ale or dr pepper are you kidding me. he can have dr pepper as a little treat (too much soda is bad for anyone especially if youre an old feller like airy) speaking of little treats i like to think he has an insatiable sweet tooth LIKE MEEEE and his favorite treaaats are pumpkin pie, macarons and practically anything chocolate he loves chocolate (im like allergic to not projecting onto my favorite characters if you couldnt tell) maybe airy knows how to bake a little bit i mean he is an object show host after all

-this is oddly specific but airy is a chronic pain warrior #JUSTLIKEME so when he was in the forest he’d make like home made heating pads by wetting a glob of moss and putting it against his face while he had his flame on (he sometimes put it on a plank over a bonfire if he felt like it) this was a bit tricky when he broke his face but im sure he managed he always manages (kinda) (relatively speaking)

-well anyway we’re back to the forest and i just mentioned his broken face So you know how he disappeared for seven months after he did that lol well what if it was because the pain and shock from that incident evoked the long lost clarity he’d been so stubbornly avoiding in order to cling on to his meaningless, fallacious escapism which triggered him and sent him into a state of agonizing self consciousness, reminding him of his earthly death, how he used to be Someone, and how he essentially let himself rot into what is now an empty shell of who he once was. after so many years, the first reflection he saw of himself was seen in something broken; shards of glass, of which he couldn’t stand to look at… as there is nothing comparable to the pain of revelation, the burden of truth after having been so lost and festered into the stagnant waters that surround you. he felt he had no choice, he disposed of the shards into the nearby stream. those seven months were not just a matter of physically healing, but as a means to losing himself all over again.

-Aaaanyway i think airy had a cat at some point in his life i think we can all agree hes a cat person right!!! he had a tortoiseshell kitty named goose and he loved her very much. idk why he named her goose he probably just thought it was funny to name an animal after a different animal.

-OH YEAH lemme bring amelia into this listen i am such a huge fan of the theory of airy being related to amelia so i like to think hes her uncle!! when amelia was little she’d stay over at airy’s house while her parents were away and he’d teach her stuff like how to fish, how to ward off snakes, how to kayak, all that jazz cuz he was an awesome uncle. she was kinda like an actual daughter to him. and amelia was so fond of sunny weather as a child, one dayy at airy’s house she had to stay inside because it was too rainy, so she occupied herself by drawing a little picture of the way she wished earth was; always sunny, sky always blue, grass always green, huh! the way she drew that grass as individual little triangles is all too familiar is it not…

OK I HAVE SOMEWHERE 2 GO now i’ll probablt add more later But thank u so much for asking this i love love love infodumping about anything airy related i heart airy

[lilacxquartz]

CHASING HUMANITY • kenjaku × fem!reader

ao3 • masterlist • << previous chapter • next chapter >>

summary: kenjaku assigns you a new role for a case study, finding that it brings him conflicting feelings.

a/n: extra long chapter <3 no real warnings for this one, maybe sickness & suggestive content. i’m setting it up for a pretty messed up chapter for next time though.

Chapter 4. Cold Soba

In a way, this whole thing didn’t feel real.

What exactly were you really doing here?

And why were you having these thoughts now of all times?

Taking a deep breath, you attempted to steel yourself. No matter how you looked at it, it didn’t look good. You took a life this morning. Whether it was indirect or not, your actions led to the end of someone’s existence and for… what exactly?

What a joke. Suddenly, the air around you felt thicker, more thicker and barely breathable. You wanted to get out of the car sooner than later, lest you forget how to function. Just for a second, nothing more, the promise to stay put be damned.

You left the car anyway. You wouldn’t go far, at least. The gas station nearby where he was parked was sparsely manned with just a single employee. Their unrelenting gaze on you felt almost accusatory, but there was surely no way they knew, so it was all likely in your head… right? You were just browsing around, they were probably just making sure that you weren’t a thief. Fingers flicking through overpriced snacks and drinks alike in the aisles, quickly realising that the very prospect of food nauseated you.

In a strained tone, you asked the clerk if there was a bathroom on-site and he said there was one around the corner of the building, accessible from the outside. You tore forward in a flash, slamming the door and locking yourself in the tiny room yet somehow, it felt less suffocating than being in the car with him.

For a while you just stood there, your body reeling. Your eyes focused on the shoddy lock that barely kept the outside world away.

Soon enough, the wave of nausea passed through you again. Whether you wanted it, whatever little substance was in your stomach was coming back up and you couldn’t do a single thing about it.

Flipping the lid open, you dry heaved into the bowl.

Your mind continued to overwhelm itself with confusion.

Why did you act like that, back there?

You had never shown even a hint of potentially being violent, so why did you act like taking a life away like that was… nothing at all? Did living the way you did, so empty and numb and abused, really give you the right to apply that same level of depravity towards someone else just as undeserving?

Was it worth it? Your mind continued to challenge you, almost tauntingly. Was it? To attempt to impress someone who didn’t even see meaning behind your own life? Who nearly left you for dead?

You weren’t so sure why you were having these thoughts now but here you were, unable to escape them.

Leaving after washing up, you settled back into the passenger seat of the car, finding that Kenjaku was now wide awake, staring blankly at the steering wheel. He glanced you over without regarding you before pulling the car back onto the road.

Attempting to diffuse the tension, you tried to break the ice. “Thought I ran off?”

For a while, he didn’t reply as though seeing through you. Kenjaku recognised that look that you currently were, finding it almost nostalgic. After his first kill, his mind also spiralled in a similar fashion. It was a familiar feeling by now though and he had grown desensitised to the whole thing, prioritising his efforts into chasing the meaning behind humanity.

Still, it was a look he could never forget.

Meaning that you must have gotten him to an extent.

Maybe you were even trying to find your own meaning too, in the midst of this whole mess that you got yourself into.

“Not at all,” he finally said, “you’re not that stupid.”

The drive for the most part down the freeway was surprisingly quiet, the radio tuning into music on and off with static that buzzed when the connection faltered. You stared out of the window, seemingly dissociating through the ride. He didn’t mind. Eventually, he found himself tuning into the news, shuddering when he caught a mention of his calling card being found earlier than anticipated, with one suspected not yet found victim.

How quaint. Did the local authorities really think that you were the second victim? Almost. Luckily he got that itch scratched with the unfortunate tourist.

He supposed that it made sense that you were reported missing, though. He wondered if your cop boyfriend was the one to report it, or if someone else saw something they shouldn’t have. Maybe he was careless and you left behind something that indicated a struggle or maybe you simply had places to be during the early morning that seemed suspicious in the wake of a fresh murder. As long as they kept their efforts isolated to the vicinity of the town though, then neither of you needn’t worry, at least for a while.

Kenjaku flicked his gaze back at you, wondering why he was even giving you so much thought.

It didn’t matter to him whether you left the shithole he found you in or not, but by bringing you along, he invited an extra inconvenience in doing so. If you were to be a missing person, then he would likely have to disguise you a little now. Maybe shorter hair and a different colour. Red might be good. Maybe something you wouldn’t usually wear. Anything to distract the public from what you typically looked like.

The drive itself was long and tedious either way, but it did soon come to an end. Parking the car over a cheap inn-style hotel near a different town, not too far from the road, he figured that some real rest wouldn’t hurt at least for a couple of nights. If the efforts were focused elsewhere for now, then that’s all that mattered. He would get you a new phone, something simple, just to use as a burner. New clothes and some hair dye. To keep himself hidden, he would dress down for a while, refraining from the recognisable robes.

A shame. Those things were comfortable.

Leaving you behind to rest in the hotel room, he could only hope that you stayed put that time and weren’t roaming around the area causing more trouble than he could keep up with.

It would be a shame to get rid of you soon.

~~~

With everything back in tow, he found you resting on the still made hotel bed when he got back, indicating that you hadn’t moved a single inch since he had left you there. Good. You weren’t a hindrance, after all.

Leaving the goods there, he set out again, walking around this town in particular for a quick bite to eat and maybe, if luck had it in store for him, a brand new study.

It was a risk though, but he couldn’t help but be curious about places like these where life moved slowly and the residents seemed more often than not, to not quite be enjoying their lives in such areas.

A peculiar thought, perhaps. When he still worked in the city, the common narrative was to fantasise about owning property in the countryside, far away from any stress.

Maybe the lacking bustle just meant that now there was nothing left to blame, so that’s why people tended to lose themselves instead in places like these.

Kenjaku soon found himself walking into a noodle bar. It had barely caught his eye as the sheet metal sign that advertised it just over the entrance was long faded, but a blackboard outside seemed to hint at a lunch discount. Shrugging, he thought that it couldn’t be too bad. Food was food and he was hungry. so he could gamble a bite to eat.

His order was taken by a rather unkempt man which should have been his first warning about this place. Unclean fingernails and greasy hair that tied strands of hair together, oil stains that painted the man’s once white t-shirt. The udon he ordered seemed to be prepared by the same guy, who slid the bowl over the bar table.

Maybe he was going through something, which meant all the better for him. A vulnerable mind meant it was easier to break into.

Ignoring the hair he found in the broth, he reluctantly took it out and tried the dish. Not too bad, but he refrained from complaining. This strange man might just be the next case study.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” the man spoke as he threw a towel over his shoulder, planting his palms over the counter.

“Oh, I’m just passing by,” Kenjaku replied, feigning politeness. He was capable of doing so perfectly well, as long as he didn’t have to do it too often. He preferred stalking his prey however rather than mingling with it.

The man grimaced slightly at the strand of hair sitting on the napkin, but didn’t apologise for it. “So, where are you going?”

Kenjaku slurped on his noodles passively, replying between contained bites. “Probably Tokyo.”

“Probably?” the man laughed, trying to joke. “You don’t know where you’re going?”

“I’m just out on a day trip,” he replied, “the destination is a mystery, you know?”

The man quietened down after that, realising that he was talking a bit too much. It couldn’t be helped though—the place often did poorly—there were very few customers, let alone new faces that turned up each day.

Setting his chopsticks down, Kenjaku then looked around. The restaurant was small, but cosy at least. There was a distinctive humming sound coming from an old cooler that had maybe three total drinks inside. The fact that the man had very little to do, implied that the place wasn’t thriving. If he didn’t come back to work the next day, it would very likely not be immediately noticed.

“You run this place all by yourself?” Kenjaku asked, sifting through this wallet to pull out a few bills.

Taking the cash, the man shook his head. “Nah, my brother takes the evening shifts. We run it together. Used to be more popular, but there’s a population decline. More people keep leaving for the city.”

“I suppose there’s more work there,” Kenjaku speculated. For the sake of getting onto this guy’s good side to maintain the facade however, he chose to maintain his politeness while offering some sense of humour to further match the guy’s personality. “I’m still around for another day or two, make sure to stay in business.”

The guy laughed as he took back the bowl, his tone of voice sounding almost relieved, “I’ll try.”

Kenjaku pushed himself back from the stool and walked around the town to see if there would be anyone else more suitable of a candidate for the role, but it didn’t really seem to be the case. The residents in the town weren’t particularly special in any way with the occupants mostly being senior citizens and maybe a few younger people who had the misfortune of their family living here.

So perhaps the man who ran the failing noodle shop, who still found a reason to smile despite being clearly in shambles, was the next in line.

He did wonder to himself what exactly could possibly be the reason. The only hint that he had was that the guy liked to joke and shied away when there was no response. He probably had a corny reason to keep going, like seeing others smile.

Although, as he made his rounds back, he saw that the man remained unchanged from his work attire but was now standing at a bus stop. This town wasn’t too small, just empty, large enough to call for a bus route so he wondered where this man actually lived. It wasn’t too uncommon to reside in an elderly parent’s house, especially in places like these and since he worked with his sibling, he wagered it to be just that.

An amusing thought entered his mind however, as he saw him shy away from a woman waiting for the same bus. Not that she noticed it, her focus rightfully turned away from him, but he seemed to be shifting around nervously.

This gave Kenjaku a curious idea.

He was travelling with a woman, after all.

Returning back to the hotel, he noticed that you were only just now waking up. With an eye roll, he chucked the box of hair dye at you and crossed his arms, waiting for you to register what was evening happening.

“What’s this?” you asked, your voice strained with sleep.

“What does it look like?” he asked, his eyes narrowing at your silly question.

You held the box in front of you to inspect it in the dim light. It was still day, but the closed curtains made it difficult to see.

“Hair dye…?” you observed.

He smiled, finding your slow and tired mind to be entertaining. “Very good. Think you can do that now?”

“Right now?” you asked, yawning again. Your arms stretched so far that the box tumbled right out of your hand, watching as his eyes narrowed the longer he watched you.

With a firm and slow nod, he confirmed it to you, “Yes… and you’ll also change into the clothes I got you. You’re on the run, remember? You can’t look too much like yourself.”

Swinging your legs out of bed, you reached down to pick up the dye and walked over to the bathroom, pausing as he tugged on your hair to halt you in place.

“Also,” he added, “you’re getting a shorter cut. Don’t worry, I’ll entrust myself as your hairdresser, I’m sure it won’t look too bad.”

You warily laughed, trying to pry him off of your hair. You still felt off though, the very little sleep that you had doing little to soothe your still ongoing worries. “I’ll… trust you.”

Letting you go, he nodded again. As Kenjaku thought more and more about the plan, he couldn’t help but feel a bit odd about the whole thing without understanding why. It wasn’t jealousy, but something still stirred at the idea of you redirecting the ego feeding attention you were so happy to give him and putting it elsewhere.

He knew he was being irrational though; you didn’t even know about the plan just yet and he was already annoyed at you.

Shaking the thought away, Kenjaku focused more on discarding every single thing you had on your person and burning it off somewhere down the road or maybe chucking it into a dumpster somewhere once he got to the city.

As you soon emerged from the bathroom, your hair was still damp but you filled out the new clothes he got you pretty well. Something inconspicuous. Just a black long sleeve top and some jeans in a different cut from before. You still looked like yourself, but different which would hopefully be distracting enough to the untrained eye.

Slipping into his own bag, he pulled out some scissors and brought you forward, reeling you in as he tried to keep you secure. He patted his pocket for a hair tie, pulling your still wet strands back without warning.

“Hey, that hurts—“ you protested in complaint.

“Bear with it,” he tutted, rolling his eyes. You wouldn’t have been compliant either way and he didn’t want to sink too much time into doing it properly.

Cutting the ends off, he stared at the result. It was good enough, he supposed. Perhaps the colour was too eye catching, but at least people wouldn’t focus too much on the face. Given what you were wearing and how you looked when he first met you, he figured that your partner would be the type to describe you as shy and maybe even frumpy, so this sleeker appearance was doing more favours than not.

Your voice then brought him back down to earth. Surprise, surprise. More complaints. “Did you really have to take so much off?”

He glanced at the pile of hair on the floor, shrugging. “It’s easier to take care of now, be thankful.”

“Why aren’t you getting a haircut then?” you asked, attempting to sass him. He did have long hair, after all.

“Because,” he poked at your forehead yet again, enjoying messing with you, “I’m actually capable of taking care of myself.”

Besides, he wanted to continue to walk in Geto’s shoes for a while longer. It’s partially why he wanted to stop by Tokyo, loving the paradox of a cruel monk. There were some interesting prospects in the city and he wanted to secure some deals before moving further up north.

As you mourned your hair, Kenjaku took a step back, setting the scissors aside and leaned his back into the sofa. The news channels were talking all about the barbed wire shibari, his motives still speculated as unclear.

How funny.

If only they knew.

Arousal soon stirred in his trousers as more and more attention to his kill was addressed, a coiling feeling that made his cock feel hard. For a moment, he considered something darker, but he also sought your compliance for tomorrow (and for the foreseeable future) so he withheld. Excusing himself to the bathroom, he stepped into the shower and ran cold water as soon as he undressed. The running flow was loud, like crashing static and was enough to stifle away any grunts and gasps that escaped his frustrated lips.

Stepping out, he was still curious, but he had no intention of ruining the prospect of accomplishing a good study with sex that wasn’t mutual. It was surely annoying though, as the curiosity lingered. Whether or not he got to fuck or not, wasn’t an issue that he exactly cared about. Like with most of his life ideology, he preferred his actions to have meaning. Meaningless sex as a result was just what it was—boring, pointless even.

Maybe that was a him only issue to work on by himself, though. Kenjaku wondered if you would even like it or if you had been maybe put off of it thanks to whatever your boyfriend had you do with him.

Enough about that though.

He wouldn’t force your hand, it wasn’t that type of arrangement. There were more important matters to fixate on, his arousal finally melting away.

“You should sleep,” he said as he squeezed the last of the water out of his hair, throwing the towel over the sofa, “we’re getting up early tomorrow.”

“Are we leaving already?” you asked.

“Nah,” he shook his head, putting on a t-shirt, spreading himself out on the sofa, already concluding that he would sleep on it. He didn’t trust the bed in a place this run down anyway. If anyone was going to get bugs potentially crawling on them in their sleep, it wasn’t going to be him. “New case study in the works. You’re helping me.”

“Oh… okay,” you reluctantly settled into the idea, your mind still spinning from the last time you ‘helped’ him. “To study what they find meaning in, right?”

“Correct,” he replied.

“And what am I helping with?” you asked.

“You’ll be acquiring the trust of a guy I found in the town,” he yawned as he laid it out to you, “just be friendly with him, get his guard to go down—flirt if you have to.”

You frowned at the idea. “Why?”

Kenjaku shrugged. “The guy gets visibly nervous around women I’ve found. I feel like if he trusts you, then we could get him to open up more. You follow?”

You hummed, the idea of your actions leading to someone’s death still sounding foreign in concept. You weren’t terribly okay with it, despite thinking that it was all fine the last time. You already did it once, so in theory you could do so again, you just wondered when you would stop feeling so bad though.

Noticing your cold feet on the matter, Kenjaku raised an eyebrow, sitting up to study your reaction further. Initially, he wasn’t going to pry, but he couldn’t help but feel nosy, “You’re not having second thoughts… are you?”

“I-I don’t know,” you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. “It’s just too soon—“

“—oh, but you said you could keep up, no?” Kenjaku interjected, feeling amused by your sudden turnaround. “Are you really saying that your use for me has already run out?”

“No…” you denied, shaking your head, “that’s not what I’m saying, I…”

He tutted, unable to give into messing with you. Still so malleable, you just needed a little push into doing his dirty bidding. “I put a lot on the line for you, you know,” he leaned back, his head rolling over the pillow. “I was perfectly content with burying you, but your whining sold me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off his teasing. “Do I have to kill him with my own hands?”

He smiled. So that’s what this was all about.

“You don’t have to lift a single finger,” he assured you. “Just talk with the guy. It’s not like I’m asking you to have sex with him.”

“Okay… I’ll try,” you replied, unable to not cringe at his crudeness.

Something about you surely did feel colder to him, though. You felt more distant, but he didn’t understand it completely. To him, people were relatively simple—at least usually. You seemed to be mad at yourself for something that you didn’t have to cause, was that it? Nobody forced you to give the tourist the jar full of acid nor to suggest such a method to begin with. You spoke to him with such a tone that implied that you were upset at him for something that he truthfully did very little to influence.

You were blaming him just because he was there. In the last day that he spent with you. he hadn’t done anything to you to make you feel unsafe other than retaining the general aura of unease that he passively carried.

His promise remained true: he wouldn’t kill you so long as you helped him.

And yet you were falling behind.

Kenjaku found himself disliking this sort of thought exercise, realising that you were forcing him to practise empathy. If he had to try and consider it, maybe it was just the side effect of you being both younger and naïve as a result. You seemed sheltered due to the lifestyle you had to endure before, that much wasn’t your fault. That wasn’t on you, he supposed. Jumping from an abusive domestic partner and to the side of someone like him couldn’t have been easy for anyone.

But at the core of it, whatever it was that was going on in that head of yours, wasn’t something that he should care about.

So if you were to keep winding him up with your own personal hindrances, then your usefulness was limited to him.

Once again, he asked you, “Will you keep up?”

Kenjaku stared at you, his gaze unwavering, cold and unrelenting. You were either going to keep up with him or he was going to dispose of you. It was that simple. In his carefully crafted lifestyle that he spent years cultivating where people were nothing beyond the studies they served as, there was no room for failure.

If you failed to comply, then you were defying the very cause that he sought to find answers within.

However, you then replied with a promised confirmation, “Yes. Sorry. I will.”

He watched from the sofa as you laid down to rest, still seeming exhausted, once again disregarding the concept that he could very take you out at any second, freeing you from your sorry existence if he had half a mind to do so.

Perhaps it was that jaded look you had though that stopped him.

The lack of fear missing from your face.

It was a look that he recognised quite well.

Maybe you didn’t care what he actually ended up doing, even if it did end with your body six feet under or burnt down into ashes, scattered into the back of a dumpster. Maybe you wouldn’t even care about torture inflicted on your body. Something told him deep down that such a thing was the case of you.

And that very little notion bothered him more than he cared to admit, because suddenly, he found himself being able to relate to you.

If there was no meaning to your life, then you were in the exact same boat as he was and perhaps this was something he was missing all along.

Maybe you’d both just cause each other to sink faster, but maybe—just maybe—one of you could find the lifeline instead.

But would you hold on?

…Would he?

~~~

The alarm sounded rather loudly in the morning at around eight o’clock. Given the season, it was still quite dark as well, but that was largely due to the cloudy skies. Kenjaku was able to both wake up and get up with ease, but it seemed to be a completely different story for you.

He narrowed his eyes as he turned the corner, seeing you perfectly passed out and not too different from a corpse. For a moment, he considered that you could actually be dead, but then he saw you turn onto your side.

“Up,” he firmly said, nudging at your tucked in shoulder.

You however did not immediately get up.

Kenjaku simply just sighed and stared at you with a resigned expression, tutting at the slight predicament he found himself in with you. Maybe he was just getting too old for this. How much sleep could you possibly need anyway? You were relaxing for most of the day yesterday as well.

Finally, you mumbled something in your sleep but it was far from coherent. He repeated his command a bit louder that time, finding that it only seemed to make you fall deeper asleep as your body sank even further into the mattress.

“Really?” he muttered.

He was about to tear off the covers in slight annoyance but then you finally stretched awake, yawning and still clothed. The bedding absorbed some of the dye. More to throw and burn away, he thought, but maybe after the upcoming case study, if it all goes according to plan.

“Finally,” he mumbled, watching you rise from your wake. The more he stared at you, the more irritated he got from the plan he had in mind for you, not quite understanding his own agitation.

It was as though he was pissed off at you for doing something before you even knew what you were getting yourself into.

Rationally, he knew that the blame was unjustified.

Finally out of bed, you adjusted your clothes and brushed out your hair. You still looked half asleep and in the process of waking up, but you were up and ready.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he walked you out of the hotel room and flipped the door sign to not be disturbed before directing you into the car.

“We’ll have to find you someone who can resemble your face card,” he said, buckling himself in. “We’ll be stopping by Tokyo, so we can find some nobody for you to become. A new name can open up more opportunities, especially since you look a bit different now.”

You simply nodded, throwing him off a little bit. Maybe you were just tired, he speculated, but the way you were acting hinted at something deeper, something cryptic that you were purposefully withholding from him. While he didn’t expect you to get chummy with him, it was a little odd that your personality was as erratic as it was.

He didn’t like it.

Being forced to care, that was.

For now he ignored that side of you, continuing to feed you information about the plan at hand and unloading as much information as possible with the hope that you could retain at least some of it.

“I’ve already been there once before,” he continued to say, “the place is usually empty from what it looks like.”

You blankly nodded once again.

“You’re keeping up with me here, right?” he asked.

You casted him a blank stare before stretching your arms out in the car, as if still exhausted. “Yeah. I’ll get the guy’s number and invite him over.”

“If you’re lucky,” he reminded you, “it might not work, but you’re likely capable of that much, aren’t you?”

“You’re putting too much faith in me,” you warned in a soft tone. You were still unsure about your indirect involvement with taking away a life despite knowing fully well what you were getting into the second you asked him to let you tag along.

Besides, if this guy was as insecure as Kenjaku made him out to be, then it had a chance to fail. As a former shy kid, you knew a little too well how it was to have low self esteem and if the man wasn’t too successful with women, then your attempt might seem mocking to him. Even cruel. He would likely be suspicious about your intentions right away.

You knew that you would be if you were in his shoes, anyway.

“Are you saying that I shouldn’t trust you with the plan?” he asked, trying to read you.

You however shook your head, shrugging your shoulders as you did so. Your answer wasn’t really all that clear. “I’m saying to keep your expectations realistic.”

He nodded too, feeling annoyed with your vagueness.

So cryptic, so cold.

So distant, almost.

Kenjaku didn’t like it anymore; he wanted that bantering, rebellious woman he met just days ago who wanted to defy all order while seeking out chaos, because that’s what drew him to you to begin with. This whole display however just felt… boring, for a lack of better words.

Just like the rest of them.

What happened to the version of you that poked fun at him or even jokingly defied him? What happened to the strange person who would feed his ego and flatter him?

Why were you… so confusing?

Was it because you were still hung up over what happened with the tourist? What was his name—Seb? Sean? …Seth? He didn’t really care to remember his name, seeing him as just another statistic in his journal of reports. Still, you shouldn’t be so upset, he thought, he was the one who endured the ugly parts after all, he was the one who studied those people, not you.

And if it was violence that you were so afraid of, then he would happily take on the responsibility of taking on the burden of dirty work forever, leaving you to play the part of someone trustworthy.

What he truly wanted from you was just someone who got it above all, someone that he could joke with and catch sass from.

(Was he lonely? Really? Him?)

How frustrating.

Try as he might, however, he could not read minds all the same. So whatever it was that was going on in that pretty head of yours was not something he knew anything about. What did you really want? And why were you being so elusive, so unclear?

Kenjaku could only sigh as he pulled into the on-street parking.

This was why he worked alone.

No mess, no overthinking the little things.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” he could only say, deciding to match you on the coldness you were giving him. You were being unfair when he was being surprisingly neutral. Ungrateful is what you were; quite literally biting the hand that kept you fed and concealed away from the chasing force that willed you back into a loveless home. Stupid girl. You didn’t understand.

“Okay,” you flatly responded.

There you went again with that bland tone, like a record playing a dull melody. Lifeless and uncaring.

Did you even want to be here?

…Did you even want to be alive?

Maybe you didn’t deserve to find meaning in your own life, after all.

Getting out of the car, he slammed the door shut and locked it as soon as you were out too, gesturing for you to follow him. The red hair looked good in the sunlight, he thought. A good decision on his part. Maybe you should be wearing glasses too to further conceal your features? On the other hand, maybe not. You were fine with how you were. They were searching for a corpse back in dirt hole you crawled out from, not a live crimson haired woman hours away from the area.

You’d be fine.

“One bowl of cold soba,” Kenjaku ordered as soon as he walked in. Despite the season, he could always go for something refreshing. He almost prayed to himself for the man to get it right and for no hair of mysterious origins to make it into the broth.

He glanced at you, waiting for you to order. It would be on the house for you, so you’d better be thankful.

“Beef udon, please,” you quietly asked a moment after reading the menu.

So quiet. So annoying. Why weren’t you being more assertive? Confident? He hated witnessing whatever it was that was going on, feeling more and more agitated the longer that he was forced to watch. Had something happened even just last night? You went to sleep after being off all day and then it somehow got worse.

Even just being in the same room as you bothered him. You sat alone at the bar stool while he sat further into the restaurant, scrolling mindlessly away on his burner phone, elusively checking on a possible son of his’ social media, his eyes narrowing as he failed to keep up with the ‘pranks’ the boy kept posting about.

Kenjaku sighed as he looked at you, after pocketing his phone as the meal was served to his table.

Tokyo could be good for a lot of reasons, he thought. It wasn’t too far away, but the current prediction seemed to be that he would stay in the south, from what he managed to get tipped off on from his moles back in the city. Besides, the city could give him more room to hide in even if he still continued to ‘study’ people, just as long as he played it carefully.

Especially since the goal was to otherwise find someone whose life you could assimilate into; maybe they wouldn’t have much going on or no immediate next of kin, which would make their search all the more delayed. Identity theft on its own was otherwise an easily enough accomplished task through paid forgery, he supposed, but there was something extra special about living on in the lives he had erased from existence.

It was like a sentimental legacy.

This would be a driving point that he would attempt to get you to understand too, like a mental initiation. The importance of both sacrifice and dedication.

It was almost symbolic, he thought.

Quickly torn away from his internal monologue, his focus was brought back to you when he heard laughter from the counter. He narrowed his sights as he leaned in and slurped on his noodles, listening in on what sounded like a genuine laugh that escaped your lips.

How odd.

Your lips were tightly curled and dimples poked at your cheeks. Your eyes squeezed into crescents—all at something the man was telling you, a smile just as bright on his face too.

Was this all an act?

No, that was an involuntary giggle; you even snorted. Something that the oaf had managed to utter left you feeling genuinely entertained.

Kenjaku then heard more.

You even called the man funny.

A compliment? Technically, he did encourage flirting, so he couldn’t be too annoyed at the delivery. That’s what your assigned role for today was. You had to get the guy to trust you so that you could lure him back into the hotel, it was that simple and yet, all it did was leave behind a strangely complicated feeling that stirred within him.

It wasn’t jealousy, he had been over this with himself already.

So what did that leave?

Whatever. It wasn’t important for now. If you were capable of completing the job successfully just as he had asked you to do, then that’s what he should be focusing on.

He wondered more about the man, he didn’t care to learn about his name, just like the others. This was subject number 15 or the restaurant worker, at best. Ordinary subjects didn’t deserve to honoured, not when their calling cards would make them so much more memorable instead.

Kenjaku tilted his head to the side, watching the interaction. He speculated that this man could technically find the reason for going in with others, perhaps. He seemed quite dim before making you laugh, after all, and now his expression was completely lit up.

An interesting specimen, indeed.

He finished up on the dish, focusing on you and ignoring him. This wasn’t envy, he thought to remind himself, as if trying to convince himself, even. Maybe it was something closer to entitlement. Whatever it was, he didn’t like that after doing everything otherwise correct at your side, that you were giving the warmth you otherwise kept locked away to a total stranger instead.

Entitlement indeed, he was a stranger to you too.

But it felt different somehow.

You then seemed to be exchanging phone numbers with the guy as he tapped the digits into your own burner phone.

Mission accomplished, he supposed.

That meant that it was a good time for him to leave then, throwing some bills at the counter as he motioned for you to follow suit. He wondered what type of relationship the guy thought you and he both had, clearly something unimportant if he thought that he was actually getting somewhere with you.

That was almost hilarious.

The drive back was in complete silence though, just like before. You were cold again.

With a weary sigh, he tried not to pay it any mind. “Text him all day if you’re able to, then invite him over for tomorrow evening.”

You nodded idly at his request with a blank look on your face.

It was then that he finally got it.

It hit him, just like that, like a sharp slap to the face.

He had seen that look after all, he even acknowledged it all the way back in the gas station.

You were simply being cold because you didn’t understand.

It was very likely a learned response from your relationship, if he had to guess. You probably just learned to bottle up your feelings and then never opened up the lid, because why would you?

Albeit reluctantly, he finally gambled a portion of his still latching shred of humanity that he had left. In a way, this was a lesson to him all the same, even if it didn’t have to resort to something violent.

While empathy was a foreign concept to him, he didn’t want to be ignored by someone that he finally found that he doesn’t mind keeping around for the long term. Being ignored hurts no matter how tough you are, he supposed and besides, it wasn’t good for his arrogance.

So for you, he would make do.

Settling in right beside you, he finally closed the gap not saying a single word and to his surprise, the tension you held onto finally seemed to sag. The stress finally seemed to melt away.

It wasn’t quite something he expected to endure, but he tolerated the sensation of you sobbing into his shoulder, trying to stifle it all at the same time.

Maybe if somebody did this for him after his first kill, he wouldn’t have become so far gone either.

So maybe you weren’t a pesky brat, nor vile, nor dumb or lacking. Just misguided, forced to endure what you shouldn’t have.

Maybe you did truly get it, after all.

What a strange sort of accomplishment he felt.

For today, he felt that he had truly learned.

If not about you, then humanity? And if not humanity, then about you?

(…About both?)

[radioisntdead]

After extermination day

Hazbin hotel x reader with some Alastor x reader

Warnings: :]

Song used

Wake up, say good morning to

The hellish daylight shined through the curtains and onto your sleeping face, effectively waking you up, you stretched out your limbs.

That sleepy person lying next to you

You turned onto your side to see if he was there, sleeping off his injury like he was supposed too.

If there's no one there, then there's no one there

He wasn't.

You let out a sigh as you crawled out of bed and sluggishly made your way to get ready for the day.

But at least the war is over

You could faintly hear Niffty chasing after something in the halls from just outside your room, despite the hotel being rebuilt better then ever it still had the occasional roach come in.

It's us, yes, we're back again

You eventually made your way down the halls, you never thought that you'd miss the way the original hotel looked, it was a little worse off but you grew used to it, maybe you were growing a little too sentimental.

Here to see you through, 'til the days end

"Morning Charlie, Vaggie!" You greeted the couple with a grin as they returned the greeting before passing by you, probably to drag the king of hell out of his room that despite only living in the hotel for barely half a week already had a concerning amount of rubber ducks overflowing in his room.

And if the night comes, and the night will come

"Morning Angel," You passed by Angel who instead of waking up like the others was returning from a late night at the studio, things had changed yes, but not everything had.

"Night' toots." He yawned before throwing open his rooms door, you could hear Fat nuggets squeal at his owner's return.

You continued on down the halls, eventually passing by the tribute painting of Sir Pentious.

"Morning Pentious." You brushed a hand over the frame that held the painting, you all knew that there was a large chance that you wouldn't live to see another day, but you didn't expect Pentious to go out the way that he did.

You missed your dear friend, you could only hope that he was at peace wherever he ended up.

Well, at least the war is over

Husk had his head in his arms, sleeping at the bar, cradling a bottle in his paw.

Cherri bomb was having a mind numbing conversation with the last remaining egg boy, you decided not to interrupt and continued your way to find a certain deer.

Lift your head and look out the window

Rosie stared outside the window of her emporium, watching as cannibal children played in the streets and as the older people chatted like any other day.

Cannibal town had lost many that day, funerals were prepared, people were injured, some injuries would never be fully healed, many mourned for their losses of friends, family, lovers.

Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go

But yet it still thrived, just like any other extermination day, not everyone survived it.

Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring

Rosie let out a sigh as she saw Susan strolling up to the emporium, wearing an exorcists wings as a new fashionable shawl.

All the living are dead, and the dead are all living

No one would outright say it but they were surprised that Susan of all cannibals survived and came out without even a scratch.

The war is over and we are beginning

Fear the old lady.

Gridlock on the parkway now

The Vee's carried on business as usual, Vox was especially disappointed that Alastor had, in fact not died, and was instead thriving! He wanted to do unmentionable things to the radio demon.

All totally murder related of course!!

The television man is here to show you how

Katie killjoy and the other guy, what was his name? Tom French? Trench? did an segment on whatever the newest chaos was happening in hell as per usual.

The channel fades to snow, it's off to work you go

Valentino was unfortunately still alive, hopefully he would get taken out soon enough, maybe by Susan, she could use a another shawl.

But at least the war is over

"Are you fuckin' kidding ME?!" The first man screamed as he grabbed and pulled on the horns that were attached to his head, ignored by the majority of sinners that passed by.

Turns out holding mass murders yearly no matter the reason, was still a sin, and the first man, once a winner, was now a sinner.

A filthy, disgusting, no good sinner.

Hell hadn't changed much, or at all since extermination day, there was some anxiousness in the air of what will the next extermination day hold? Will it ever come? Heaven on the other hand.

She's gone, she left before you woke

Lute was still angry and still missing an arm, she wasn't getting that back anytime soon, especially since her prosthetic wasn't done yet.

As you ate last night, neither of you spoke

She would sometimes feel her missing arm although it wasn't there anymore, the pain would be unbearable, but it didn't compare to the pain she felt from the lost of Adam.

Dishes, TV, bed, the darkness filled with dread

She kept his Halo on her nightstand, it was... Comforting to have.

But at least the war is over

Sera was shocked that Charlie's redemption idea was successful, sinners could be redeemed.

Lift your head and look out the window

Many thoughts went through her head, was it a good idea? It was possible yes, Sir Pentious was pure proof of that, but was it a good idea? Surely there were sinners that no matter what they did would never truly be redeemed, like Valentino for example.

But then there were sinners that could be redeemed, like Sir Pentious.

It would take time for her to fully accept that things were changing, that sinners could be redeemed, that allowing Adam to hold the exterminations was a horrible idea, how many sinners that were murdered could've been redeemed? And how many of them couldn't?

But once she did accept it? How would she go about it? She did certainly owed not only Charlie a proper apology but Emily as well, withholding information from someone could be worse then a lie sometimes.

Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go

Emily was ecstatic that Charlie's redemption hotel was a success! Sinners could be redeemed!

She had so much fun showing Sir Pentious around and getting him situated in his new place of residence, one day Charlie could visit again, and see that her dreams were a success!

Emily couldn't wait for that day to come.

Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring

Sir Pentious didn't know what exactly he was expecting to happen when he selflessly sacrificed himself for the hotel, double hell? Permanent darkness maybe, but not heaven, he didn't expect to have a whole color palette change.

All the living are dead, and the dead are all living

He missed his friends Family at the hotel, he missed the times they shared, but at least he had some of his egg Bois with him, oddly enough they were now hard boiled but they were there.

It would take him awhile to get used to everything but he was slowly getting comfortable, he even made a friend other then Emily, a spider winner by the name of Molly.

The war is over and we are beginning

She oddly enough reminded him of Angel dust, maybe it was the spider appearances?

We won, or we think we did

"Morning Niff!" "Good mornin- oh! Outta the way!" You passed by Niffty who was still chasing that roach, you chuckled before continuing your way.

When you went away, you were just a kid

Climbing up the stairway to a certain deers new and improved radio station.

And if you lost it all, and you lost it

You opened the door, not bothering to knock, did no one teach you manners?

Alastor went on hosting his radio show, talking about whatever, you didn't really pay attention, only watching him as you leaned on the door way waiting for him to notice you.

Well, we'll still be there when your war is over

It didn't take long for him to do so, with a raised eyebrow he motioned for you to come in as he smoothly switched from talking to putting on music.

Lift your head and look out the window

"My dear! To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" He asked spinning around in his chair.

"You weren't in bed, Al, you're supposed to be resting," you moved towards him softly closing the door behind you.

Stay that way for the rest of the day and watch the time go

"Nonsense my dear, I am perfectly fine, fit as a fiddle if I do say so myself!" You frowned at the radio deers words, you knew damn well he was not fit as a fiddle, he nearly reopened his stitches just the other night.

Listen, the birds sing, listen, the bells ring

He got up from his chair and held out his hand to you for you to take.

"Care to join me for a quick dance, Mon étoile?" He asked, a grin reluctantly spread out across your face as you took his hand.

All the living are dead, and the dead are all living

You missed the time before extermination day, you missed Sir Pentious, you missed the old hotel, if you could you would've cherished it more, but it was too late for cheesey sentiments like that, all you could do now was cherish the people in the new hotel now.

And focus on the lovely dance you were having with your still injured partner.

The war is over and we are beginning

Things were changing quickly, for better or for worse you were sticking with this hotel, with Charlie, with everyone in this place through it all.

Here it comes, here comes the first day

You didn't know it yet but after this dance Charlie would come bolting up the stairs excitedly letting the two of you know that a sinner wanted to join the hotel, and that the wall had been taken down and if Alastor could fix it because the duck man was distracted making ducks.

Here it comes, here comes the first day

Afterwards you and Alastor would go greet the sinner, a song would take place and beef would be beefed between the deer man and the duck man.

It starts up in our bedroom after the war

You wouldn't change any of it for the world.

It starts up in our bedroom after the war, after the war

Good evening folks! Guess who finally posted angst ON ANGST WEDNESDAY FOR ONCE HAHAHAHAAH SUCK IT PROCRASTINATION,

This is more bittersweet than angst though but we don't talk about that, I wrote this in like two hours, like I hyper focused on this, I'm gonna schedule the fic IT BETTER POST THIS TIME OR IM BITING TUMBLR, As always thank you for tuning in and Goodnight folks!

pssssst! You should join our discord! You get to witness my 5 AM writing screams with snippets

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Four

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: I’m here:) finally. It’s been a while, idk how long, not that long but long enough i guess, sorry for the wait! This one is wordy but also has a lot going on, so hope you enjoy!

Ngl, this can probably be read as a standalone if anyone’s seeing this and not started the series, it’s just a bit angsty and mostly smut? But unsure, I said probably! X

Warnings: Arguing, usual Matty and Mouse thinking (feels like it needs its own warning at this point, they’re saddos), smut, unprotected sex, EMOTIONS (because yeah)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

There was something raw in the bitterness that was love. Like the sour skin of an apple that was first thought to be sweet. Love was deceiving in itself really, but it was never alone. It brought life and light. It wrought anger. It stirred both jealousy and pity. It gave and gave, until all you were left with was that tart tang aftertaste. 

Some people revelled in it.

Others, withered away.

Years before, perhaps maybe not even that long ago now, Matty would have belonged to the former. He had enjoyed the strings he found that could tie him to people, sex and money had given him the ability to do it, to keep them there, to pull them alongside him. And he’d indulged in it all, beyond what most would consider extortionate. 

And still, even after everything, when the fun had ended and the games had been discarded, and he’d just been tossed off somewhere to the side… Alone once more. He had continued on. On and on and on, until he ultimately had lost himself completely.

The last few months had shifted something in him though.

And now here he was, still angry and bitter and resentful. But full of actual love. The raw type. The kind that left you marvelling at the most stupid things— insipid little concepts that held no actual value or any real detail worth getting all starry-eyed over.

It had wormed its way into the hollow shell that was his heart and rebuilt some part of him that he believed he had long since destroyed.

He wanted to scoff at the very thought. The very idea that an emotion could be felt so strongly that it differed the world around you; that, singularly, it could change you. The notion was far too complex, too out there to even begin to fathom, but then again, Matty supposed that emotions were exactly that. Complex.

It sent his mind reeling. Had his entire body aching with a fever to expel the feeling completely, if only so that he could think freely again, so it wouldn’t hurt to merely breathe anymore.

You should have told me.

He knew that. He had admitted as much.

And yet, he still hadn’t told her.

He’d lied.

Why didn’t you tell me?

And that was the question, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t he just told her?

Fear, he guessed.

Yet another morbid emotion in which Matty had always been so wary of. Another lost feeling he thought he’d swallowed whole and hidden somewhere deep down. Because there was no fear in a drug induced haze. When you were off partying or chasing some other euphoric high. What the fuck was there to be fearful of? When the chilling buzz which shook you to your very core blanketed over everything else.

When there was always that silence.

That numb quiet he had chased and craved and cherished.

Though, he supposed, it was nothing compared to the fear of losing this.

Of losing her.

Still, Matty could not for the life of him find it in himself to tell her exactly that. Those words lost on him, lodged in the column of his throat and etching themselves a home there.

“Where do we go from here?”

He blinked at the sound of his own voice, looking up at her shadowed expression and at how tired she then seemed. How different she now looked compared to the moment they’d first met. 

She’d been something of a presence even then. Always effortlessly complex. With her soft smile and guarded eyes. Eyes he’d gone and fucking wondered about for hours on end.

Those eyes which were now caught on the far wall stood opposite, the one lined with coloured photo frames and that odd little doodle Teddy had gotten in trouble for only a couple of weeks prior. 

The realisation made Matty mourn the few days they’d spent apart.

After a long moment, she finally shrugged at him and he found himself swallowing tightly at the movement. Startled by her seeming lack of care. 

“I don’t want to lose you, Squeaks.” 

It was honest. As honest as he could be.

She huffed an amused breath in return though, “Not like you’re short on company, Matty.”

He felt his gaze snap up to meet hers then, head shifting with it. 

“What’s that even meant to mean?” He asked her, frowning now, at the way she had crossed her arms over her chest and how her shoulders had hunched on their own accord whilst she casually moved to glance out the window. Matty forced himself up onto his feet, hating the fact she had turned away from him.

“I saw everything, Matty.” Mouse replied tiredly, as though she was fed up, fed up with this, with them. “I saw the articles.”

Matty’s stomach bottomed out at her words, he stepped towards her. “Nothing happened.” He murmured, taking another step closer. “Nothing fucking happened, Squeaks. I swear it.”

She tensed but didn’t quite flinch at his sudden approach, so he kept a little distance between them, even as desperate as he was to hold her. To shake her enough so that she would see sense, that she’d realise how stupid he would have had to have been to have gone near anyone else. That girl was no one, she’d meant nothing. 

“You can swear that, can you?” She mocked him, one corner of her mouth toying with a merciless smile that didn’t quite suit her. “You were gone, Matty. Fucking out of it. That much was clear to see just from the photos alone.”

Matty stared at her helplessly.

She shook her head.

“I’d had a couple drinks. That isn’t a crime!” He stressed, automatically falling onto the defensive, “Didn’t mean I was stupid enough to get with the first person I fucking saw! That girl- she was off her head too. Had mates with her even! But she was just trying to help me, Mouse. That’s all it was.” 

She was shaking her head again now, tongue catching on her incisor; a dead giveaway to how stressed she was, how anxious she was getting. Matty only wished to shoulder it all, that defensiveness of his faltering slightly at the sight of her trying to hide it all. To stay strong. How fucking long had she had to do that?

“I feel like such a fool, Matty.” She finally spoke, her voice trembling with the onslaught of tears that glazed her eyes but she didn’t dare let fall. “A fucking fool. ‘Cause I’d thought that things were okay, that we were okay. That I could finally relax and let you in. But then-“ She paused, a sad huff leaving her, “Then you went and dropped this mess in my lap and somehow expected me to just deal with it. To tell you it’s all fine. That we could make it right.”

Mouse turned then, ever so slowly, looking about as defeated as Matty had ever seen her. He felt his chest burn with the last breath he hadn’t remembered taking let alone hold onto, too afraid to look away, to even move. 

“But you embarrassed me. You’ve made the whole world believe I am that fool. That I was as naive as they’d first made me out to be. As my friends thought me to be.” 

Her smile was shattered and broken, her voice wet and hoarse, but she continued on even as her hands fell limply to her sides and she took a single step closer.

“And to make things worse, you didn’t just hurt me, Matty. You hurt Teddy too.”

–

Hit them where it hurts.

That was the saying, wasn’t it?

But it only left me feeling all the more sour- gutless. As well as a little stupid, I supposed, wondering if Matty even cared for Teddy at all, or how he had felt the last couple days.

Though I shouldn’t have second guessed it, not when the way Matty’s face immediately paled and then fell proved me wrong. 

Deep down, I knew that he cared. In his own odd way he had always cared. But to know it and to see it were two entirely different things.

And although it was true, that Matty had in fact hurt Teddy. It still felt like a shitty thing to say to him then. But he’d hurt me as well, hadn’t he. And even though I’d been hurting most of my life, Matty being the reason for all that hurt pained me in a way I couldn’t even comprehend. 

“I didn’t-”

I scoffed at his attempted reply, but my heart wasn’t in it, breaking all over again. I wondered how long we could drag this out. If we even would.

“Mean to?” I finished for him, shaking my head stupidly. “I know you didn’t mean to, Matty. Doesn’t change the fact that you still did it.”

His eyes slipped closed just as his lips fell apart, and when he opened them again I was stuck staring into his devastated gaze. 

“If I could take it all back, I would.” He breathed, “I promise you I would.”

I swallowed back my own tears, even as they burned and pricked at my throat and eyes. “But you can’t.”

And it was as simple as that, wasn’t it? He couldn’t ever take it back. 

I don’t want to lose you.

He knew just how to get under my skin, past all that rusted armour of mine.

It was what made this all so much harder. 

“Tell me what to do, Squeaks.” Matty croaked pleadingly, hand reaching out towards me before he looked down at it, blinked, and then let it fall. “I’ll do it, just– tell me.”

What was left that he could do? When it felt like things had so suddenly and so horrifically fallen out from under us.

“I don't know.” I told him honestly, in a barely there whisper, “I just don't know, Matty.”

He stepped even closer then, hand moving to capture my jaw in a determined haste, not restraining himself like he had just moments before. I tried to pull away, titling my chin and looking off to the side as I clenched my teeth, but his thumb was there, luring me back in, forcing me to meet his eye.

“I’m not just gonna give up.” His other hand jumped to cradle my face, a cushion to those heated words. 

I was reluctant in my needless wanting, desperate to be held whilst simultaneously wanting to push him away. So I lifted my hands up to cover his own, unsure of the choice they’d make. To stay, or go.

“It’s not about that, Matty.” I heard myself say pathetically, voice wavering with each word, “You can’t just forget this.”

His dark eyes were trained on me, flickering over every square inch of my scarred face. I’d never felt insecure about them when I was around him, but this moment felt too heated, too high strung. And I’d been burning the candle at both ends the last few days, so with him being this close, this intense, every emotion I’d felt was brimming closer and closer to the surface. 

Instead of facing him, I turned away, hiding once more as I worked my jaw and felt my hands slip down to the backs of his forearms.

A shared breath and then,

“Don’t do that.” Matty whispered in the quiet, almost begging. “Don’t hide from me.”

His thumb smoothed over the skin of my cheek and I was all but putty in hands, looking back at him just as a tear escaped me and slid to meet the pad of it. 

Matty brushed the tear away without thought, before he leant in to rest his forehead against my own. The action forced me to cling tighter to his arms, eyes closing to keep from embarrassing myself any further. I wouldn’t cry. 

I wouldn’t cry.

“Look at me.” He demanded, nose so close that I could practically sense its phantom touch. And foolishly, I did as he asked. “You-” His breath stuttered as his eyes pleaded with me, sounding forced as it broke free from him, his fingers making a home for themselves in my hair. 

“You don’t know what you do to me. How much of a mess I’ve made of myself. How much I have missed you.” Matty confessed, his voice quiet in the small space shared between us, in a place where we were both sheltered and unseen. “And I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry. Enough that I’ll keep on repeating it until you fucking believe me. Enough that I’d do just about anything for you to see how much I want this.”

He sucked in a breath, and I blinked back at him, lips tingling with the sensation of his proximity. 

“I know I messed up. I know.” He repeated, eyes flickering back and forth between my own whilst his thumbs trailed the line of my hair. “But all I’m asking for is a chance to make it right. To be better. Squeaks, I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat if I could.”

His breath was tickling the skin of my cheek as well as the corner of my mouth, it almost made it difficult to think let alone remember how to breathe. I wanted–

Suddenly my eyes were looking down, focused on his parted mouth, on the stubble he’d let grow across the cut of his chin as well as his upper lip. His nose finally brushed past my own, touching ever so carefully as one or both of us pressed nearer, almost there, inching closer but not close enough.

“Tell me no.” 

Instantly, I was thrown back to that first night he kissed me. I hadn’t told him no then, and for some reason I couldn’t find it in me to decline him now. 

So instead I took, all but biting as my hand cradled the back of his neck and closed that short amount of distance between us. My nails dug into the exposed skin of his nape, where the collar of his shirt jumped with each move he made. My teeth nipped at his lower lip, angry in my attempt to swallow him whole, teeth clashing as we both stumbled, moving and moving until Matty’s back hit the nearest wall.

How the roles had reversed, I thought to myself as Matty’s shoulders flexed beneath his shirt and jumped under my ever roaming hands. I hated the desire that it stirred through me, knowing how easily he could take back control with his carefully contained strength. But he didn’t, instead he gave my fury something to latch onto.

My hand lifted to pin one of his wrists somewhere to the left of his head, glare not wavering even as his stubborn gaze met my own. He was as riled up as me.

“You have some nerve.” I all but spat, watching on as his chest rose and fell, questioning how quickly everything had switched.

“Yeah?” Matty bit back, those familiar brown eyes- a colour that had always brought me comfort- were blazing now as they trailed over the flush that I was sure lined my face. “Why’s that? You’re the one with me pinned, darlin’.” 

His heavy gaze traced the bow of my lip, slumping ever slightly in his stance so that his head could fall closer forward. My breath hitched.

That was all he needed apparently, to earn the upper hand here. Because in a moment, the room was spinning and then I was the one being crowded against the wall, fury be damned.

Contrary to my previous endeavour, Matty’s touch was still as careful as ever, making it that much more obvious that I could slip away if I so wanted. But the question was whether or not I did.

“Matty–”

But he just carried on, as though he hadn’t even heard me speak, voice a low breathy murmur. 

“I’ve been stuck in this endless loop. Driving myself mad.” He told me, his knee angled enough so that he could let his head dip towards the juncture of my neck, his mouth pausing by the shell of my ear whilst a finger gently trailed its way up over my hip. “Wonderin’ if I’d lost this for good.”

My heart pounded in my chest as the ghost of his words tickled my skin, tensing when his nose ever so slightly grazed my jaw. 

That finger of his continued to move, working its way up my torso, jumping across my ribs and up to the bone of my collar. My gaze was fixed on the opposing wall, on the mirror that framed my dazed face and the back of his head. My hand worked its way into his unruly curls.

“But you’re as stubborn as me, see.” Matty added, luring me in, “And I’m not the type to give up on a sure thing.” His words held enough bite that I snapped back to meet his stare, he tilted his head at me whilst I scowled.

“Excuse me?”

Matty smiled, lids heavy as his careful hand danced its way back down my front. 

“And this,” He said, almost in a whisper, ignoring my retort as he hooked my leg around his waist, “This is a sure thing.”

A soft breath escaped me even as I batted his hand away, but he simply reached up to grip at my chin, touch tender even with the way his calloused thumb dragged down my lower lip.

I was slowly beginning to imagine that this was all a dream, something my sick mind had gone and conjured up in hopes to ignore all of the hurt he had put me through. Because this couldn’t be right, things couldn’t have fallen back into place this easily. 

“Matty.” I tried again, firmer this time, but was captured by the look his eyes held, probably having understood the expression that must have just crossed my face.

“What did you do, Squeaks?” He asked me almost hurriedly, shaking my chin between his forefinger and thumb, my previous anger and doubt melting slightly as I leaned further into his touch. “Did you want me to hurt, too?”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question, his swift change in topic. Baffled by the fact that he was now trying to pin this back on me. 

Was that really what this was? I wanted to ask.

Matty didn’t give me the opportunity to say a thing though. My surprise had stalled me briefly, but it had evidently been long enough to allow him to simply carry on.

“What did you do, eh? Tell me.” He breathed before he pressed his mouth to my jaw, once and then twice, pulling away just as I tilted my head to accommodate him, “Did you go out, baby? Find somebody else? Or did you just stay here, waiting for me?”

I reeled back, anger spiking again. “Fuck you.”

Matty’s eyes flickered back and forth between mine. 

“I’m trying to get you to.” He said, always so brazen and snarky, even in the moments where I hated him most. The hand I had previously slapped away went back to the leg he still had draped over his hip, snaking up over my knee and to my thigh. 

My glare didn’t waiver, even as my breathing picked up at the pressure his fingertips wrought on my skin. 

“Tell me no.” He finally repeated, eyes failing to meet mine. And how was I supposed to? When having him this close brought back that fire he’d put out in me, when he was kissing my neck so sweetly?

“We’ll regret it.” It was as close to a no as I could get, enough to have him pause. Matty looked to me then, his hold loosening on my body but still holding. Hoping.

“Do you care?”

I marvelled at the question, did I care?

I cared so much it pained me.

But he hadn’t meant it like that. That much I knew.

Do you care if you regret it? Because, what if you don’t? 

With Matty there was always chance– he was the type to play the odds, to push his luck.

What if.

What if, what if, what if?

Shaking my head, I was forced to question if he understood me as much as I did him. If he could see each of my thoughts just as they dawned on me, flashing across my face like a story being told. 

Then I wondered whether or not I even wanted him to understand. This, this thing we were doing would only further complicate things between us, but perhaps this could be a goodbye.

But, if this was a goodbye, why was he looking at me like that? Watching and waiting for me to truly answer.

Tell me no, he’d said.

Matty’s gaze swept over my face, as though trying to read me, maybe in hopes to find what it was he was really searching for. 

Tell me no.

“Please.”

And my resolve broke at the word.

“Okay.” I heard myself say in reply, nodding quickly, and that was seemingly all the permission he needed before Matty was wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me towards him fully.

My hands floundered momentarily before they were back on his shoulders, his teeth nipping at my neck. 

I moaned, eyes falling shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down my skin, teeth scraping before his tongue swirled to soothe their angry ambush. I could smell him everywhere now, the shampoo I was so used to stealing, as well as the only aftershave he’d ever claimed to like.

His hips rolled into mine, pressing himself right against the fabric of my trousers and the underwear which had grown damp during our heated argument. 

I didn’t want to linger too long on the thought of my body’s obvious betrayal, too caught up in him to think about how wrong this should all feel.

“Shit.” Matty groaned, breath catching with it as he continued to grind against me.

I gasped back, grabbing at him harder as he bit down on the curve of my neck. I nipped at his jaw in retaliation, nails digging into the skin of his back, hoping to leave a mark.

“I knew you’d miss me.” He grunted into the base of my throat, the hands which held my waist dipping beneath the hem of my shirt to explore further. “Even when you’re angry you’ll wait. ‘Cause no one else can touch like me.”

A whine bypassed my lips almost involuntarily as he continued to rut against me, I wanted to be angry- no, in fact, I was angry. But all emotion other than want was blurring at the edges of my mind now, being pushed further and further back by each eager kiss he peppered along my jaw.

“You really–” I jerked in surprise, cutting myself off with a short gasp when his hand slipped past the hem of my trousers, fingers pressing against the damp fabric he found there. 

“What was that?” He provoked, and I could hear the smirk in his voice as he trailed over my covered clit, causing me to whimper before I was biting down on my lower lip. Matty didn’t like that much. “Come on, I wanna hear you.” He muttered, pressing a little harder, wanting a reaction. “Tell me.”

“You’re such a bastard.” I panted, head falling against his shoulder as my hips pushed further into his touch, seeking more.

Matty laughed, all breathy and lovely, mouth catching on the lobe of my ear before he hissed, “Yeah, but you like that about me.”

His hand was gone with that and I was almost tempted to ask, to even plead with him for its return, aching all the more now, enough that all I could think about was riding his fingers until I couldn’t think at all. 

But then Matty was grabbing my waist again, his grip hard, firm, and I swallowed when he whispered into my ear once more.

“Jump.”

Without thinking, I jumped. 

We collided, his mouth on mine and the two of us moving as though it was second nature. And in a way, it was. But it shouldn’t have been. I knew that. I tried to remind myself of it. 

He shouldn’t be here.

But he was. Walking his way through my flat with ease, effortlessly missing each sharp corner and the miniscule step which led back into the hallway. He was blind, my hands in his hair as he manoeuvred us into my bedroom, throwing me down onto sheets that he’d never seen, let alone slept in. 

I tugged him down with me, his hands moving to unbutton those fucking jeans he always wore as he worked his way back into my mouth. 

He hovered over me after kicking them off, my head pressed to the pillows as his eyes roamed every inch of my face. “Beautiful.” He whispered, as though he hadn’t really meant to say the word aloud.

My breath hitched anyway but Matty paid it no mind, leaning in closer to kiss me again, slower this time around, though his hands were still quick, tugging at the hem of my top enough so that I got the hint. I lifted myself up, breaking away to take it off and toss it to the side. 

Matty kissed his way down my neck again, following the trail of scars down my torso until his fingers paused to hook around the top of my trousers. I nodded at his silent ask, planting my feet a little firmer on the mattress so that they could follow my tee.

Matty stopped then, kneeling between my parted thighs, eyes caught on the panties I was wearing, and I could swear something in his gaze shifted as he stared down at me. 

“Lace?” He murmured, fingers curling around my thighs tight enough to bruise as he pushed forward, closer to my face. “Really?”

It was a loaded question. Almost felt like an accusation.

I shrugged– I hadn’t meant to end up here, but it hadn’t been subconscious when I’d picked them out of the pile this morning. He liked the way they looked, had told me so one night spent at his when he’d talked me into smoking a couple joints with him sprawled out on his living room floor. 

I opened my mouth to reply but Matty didn’t quite catch the motion, already busying himself with the task of pulling the lace down my thighs. His fingers, calloused from years of playing guitar, dragged alongside the black material rolling down my legs. I tensed at the feeling, zeroing in on the slow motion, then listened to him groan at the sight before they were gone completely.

I watched him pull away, balling the damp fabric up in a fist before leaning over the side of the bed to drop them on top of his jeans. 

“A souvenir?” I couldn’t help but question, mostly out of mirth, but humour helped deflect from the weight I felt at having him here.

Matty hummed, fingers already back on me, trailing the length of my right leg before he was stretching his way back up again, head stopping between my parted thighs and nosing at a crease sat at the very top. He didn’t answer me though, instead choosing to shut me up with another gasp by dragging his thumb across my folds.

“Matty.”

“Hm?” He hummed again, having sat back on his heels to watch me squirm as he continued on. I shot him a rather annoyed glare.

“Take off your shirt and fuck me.” 

His brows rose languidly when he flicked his eyes back up to meet mine, then tilted his head. “But I’m having so much fun.”

With a swift kick to his side, Matty’s hand fell away and he shook his head around the beginnings of a smile. “Always so demanding.” He tutted and before I could spit something back– probably about him being the biggest hypocrite I knew– he was placing his hands either side of my head and leaning forward so that his lips were right beside my ear, his breath fanning the shell of it. “You gonna beg for it?”

My breathing grew heavy as I watched him pull away, dragging a finger up the inside of my thigh before stilling ever so briefly and venturing on, up over my hip and then my ribs. He pressed a slow kiss to my chest, eyes flicking up to find mine as his tongue swirled over the skin, there and then gone.

“Come on–”

He huffed a quiet laugh, the force of it lighting goosebumps over my exposed flesh. “Come on, baby. Beg.”

I rolled my eyes, reaching up to grab at his neck but he was already dancing out of my reach. He jutted his chin. 

“Matty.” I huffed.

“Yeah?”

I really wanted to throttle him, “Fuck me. I’m not asking.”

The corner of his mouth tugged itself up into a small smirk, “Good enough.”

A disbelieving chuckle escaped me, one which was quickly cut short by his wandering hands finding purchase on my hips once more, before he dragged me down the length of the bed, his mouth finding purchase on the swell of my breast.

He pressed fast kisses along the curve of it until his tongue flicked out over the nipple, causing me to gasp. My hands flew out to tangle themselves in his hair when he lapped it into his mouth to suck and I groaned at the weight of his hands cradling the curve of my back. 

“Matty.”

He hummed and the sound sent vibrations rippling out across my skin, I fisted my hands into his curls harder.

Shifting until my hips found his whilst he lavished at my chest, I pressed up into him, both annoyed by the fact he was still clad in his boxers and pleased by the very visible wet patch I could see. I ground against him and the sensation elicited moans from the pair of us, his hands flying down to hold my hips steady.

“Patience.” He murmured, but I was having none of it, lifting a leg against his arse to spur him closer. Matty’s head jerked up at the surprise before he looked down at me and stared. “You’ll be the death of me.”

“You better hope not.” I replied, hands finding the hem of his shirt and dragging it off before he could fight me on it. “I’ll make it painful.”

“Counting on it.” Matty murmured back, hair now a mess, either from the clutch I’d had on it moments before or from the way I’d all but yanked his top over his head. “On all fours,” He said roughly, tapping my outer thigh twice. My already flushed skin heated further at the understanding of how he wanted to take me but– contrary to popular belief– I didn’t argue and rolled onto my stomach.

Palms to the sheets, I pushed myself up onto my hands and knees, eyes trained on the headboard. I grinned to myself when I heard Matty groan at the sight, looking back over my shoulder only briefly to see him palming himself through his boxers.

“Don’t have all day, Healy.” I prompted after a moment passed, just before the mattress shifted beneath his weight. I heard something drop to the floor a second later before he was right up behind me.

I jolted a tad at his sudden touch, then was forced to focus on the way his hands slid over my hips with that same familiarity they’d always done, moving up to the swell of my arse to squeeze it before dropping back down to spread my legs further apart.

A moment passed and I was forced to wait in the silence he then gifted me, waiting and waiting until I finally went to say something. It was then that I felt a finger glide down my spine, dragging ever so slowly over my jumping muscles. 

“Hands,” Matty then reminded and I was forced to blink away the haze I had drifted into, reaching up to grab onto the headboard just as I felt him swipe his dick between my thighs, guiding himself up over my folds, pushing past them so he rested at my entrance. 

I let go of a rush of air, splaying my hands further against the headboard before he slammed into me without any warning at all, all the way up to the hilt whilst I cried out at the sudden fullness. “Fuck.” I hissed, head falling between my shoulders as I winced. 

I breathed through the bit of pain that came with the thrust, acknowledging that Matty didn’t move an inch and instead keeping still, hands holding my hips even as he leaned over to whisper, “You good?”

His voice was surprisingly soft in the quietness that encased the flat, reminding me of other times we’d spent here, both like this and in other odd moments. It made my chest ache.

I took another moment to adjust to him before I nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He hummed in turn but didn’t question it, just waited, thumbs circling the skin on my hips for a moment in a manner so gentle and yet so very Matty, before finally, he moved. 

His thrusts were shallow and slow at first, his thumbs keeping the same steady tempo as they continued to soothe the tops of my hips. I moaned at the feel of him, before I managed to roll my hips back to meet his own, enjoying the sound that escaped him.

“So good.” He said, hand sliding further up my side and towards my ribs before I was titling my head back and Matty was holding a fistful of my hair. He just held it for a bit, forearm pressed against the skin of my back before his thrusts began to grow harder, tugging more and more.

The room was quickly filled with the sounds of our groans along with the bedframe rocking against the wall and I praised all the Gods above for the fact that there were currently no neighbours residing in the flat beyond it, before I was quickly swept up once more in the thick scent of sweat and sex. Matty fucking into me with a desperation I’d never quite experienced from him before.

I panted beneath him, nails digging into the wood of my headboard whilst he picked up the pace.

I couldn’t quite focus on anything but him. His breathy whispers, his fingertips which dotted my skin, the feel of him rocking in and out of me. It was almost as though nothing else existed but this moment, even if I knew it would soon end. His thrusts getting sloppier, his grip tightening, his murmured praises increasing by a tenfold. 

“Come on, baby.”

I liked when he called me that.

Made me feel special. 

But that thought soon soured. Because, was I really? 

How could I be anything special when my whole life I’d been nothing but a doormat for people to walk all over? I couldn’t help but think that Matty would be the same, like he’d gotten too close and finally seen what everybody else already had.

“Squeaks, baby. What do you need?”

I whimpered at his ask, tears collecting in the corners of my eyes. “I–”

What the fuck did I need? It wasn’t meant to feel so loaded, that question. But it felt as though the walls were now closing in. Because was this it? Was this the end?

“I–” I tried, feeling Matty’s fingers slip from the ends of my hair before a gentle palm laid itself flat on the small of my back.

“So good for me.” I heard him say and I moaned at the slight praise, breathing harder as he continued to mumble mostly to himself, “So pretty. So good.”

I was almost there, back arching under his palm as the other moved away from the right grasp it held on my hip, fingers finally finding my clit, knowing exactly what I needed.

“Yes.” I panted as the combination of his hard thrusts and steady hand sent my head into a dizzying pool of water, “God, yes. I–”

I think I screamed as I came, his fingers working deftly whilst mine clung to the headboard, body trembling as I fought to keep myself up. But Matty was there, holding me long enough so that he could reach his high and pull out with a loud grunt, coating my inner thighs. 

We stayed there for, I don’t know how long, until he finally released me, falling away whilst I slumped forward onto the pillows before us. He followed a second later, still catching his breath as he stared up at the ceiling. I watched him, eyes hidden behind my forearm and a sprawl of hair that had fallen over my face, content to soak in what I could of him. What I had left.

Then Matty shifted beside me, I half expected him to get up and leave with some half-arsed excuse on the tip of his tongue, but he paused when he caught my heavy gaze. I let my eyes trail over the side of face, on the tired circles settled beneath his lash line and the slope of his nose.

He looked back towards the ceiling.

“You got your souvenir, remember?” I found myself saying, stupidly, voice just above a croaked murmur, “Don’t let me keep you.”

Quiet. And then, “Do you want me to?”

I knew what he meant, but still I asked, “Want what?”

Matty’s head slowly turned towards me, eyes guarded and peering over at my devastated form. I wondered what he made of me right then, if he thought anything at all. 

When he offered me no words, I refused to add anything either and felt what was left of my heart crumple up into a pitiful bundle when he pushed himself to the edge of a bed with a barely there sigh.

The air in my lungs caught as I watched and waited, eyes trailing after him as he rounded the bed frame to pick up his discarded boxers. I let them slip closed again, not wanting to watch him leave. 

I listened to his feet pad across the hardwood floors and out of the room. My chest ached with every step but I didn’t dare stop him, burying my face further into my pillow. 

I laid in wait for the front door to open, for there to be a clue to his evident departure, but then the footsteps returned. I didn’t dare give myself false hope, knowing he must have forgotten something to have come back. But the padding continued, closer and closer until they were back by the bed and I held my breath as it creaked, my eyes stinging just as I felt a warm damp cloth press against my inner thighs, wiping me clean.

I choked on the sob that wanted to escape me and the cloth paused for a split second before venturing on. I waited, wondering why he was doing this, why he was dragging it out.

Just leave already.

But then the cloth was pulling away again, and the bed was creaking again, and the tears, they wouldn’t stop. 

Stay. 

Please just stay.

I gasped into the pillowcase, stomach tensing with the strength to keep quiet. To let him leave quietly. 

I wouldn’t cry.

And then there was quiet, at least for a moment or two, before the bed dipped once more and there was a hand in my hair, combing the strands from out of my face and tucking them behind my ear.

When I opened my eyes, he was still there. Dressed and ready to go, but still sitting there beside me. Whilst I laid bare, curled up into a ball to better protect myself from his knowing gaze.

Suddenly everything hurt. Suddenly I felt exhausted and was falling apart at the seams.

Matty moved carefully, stretching toward the foot of the bed before returning with the sheet to cover me up, laying it gently over my trembling shoulders. He leaned in to press a slow kiss to my forehead and then went to move away again.

My hand caught his wrist.

And then I was flat out sobbing. Hysterical even. Crying into the pillow almost soundlessly as I gasped to try and catch my breath. Because I wanted him to stay. I needed him to stay.

Not just for me. But for Teddy. And for the life he brought into my dreary flat. To the kindness he never failed to gift me.

I needed him to stay.

I needed him.

I opened my mouth to ask, to let him know. But I could hardly even bear to look at him, blurred as he was through my onslaught of tears, Matty still held the key to all but destroying what little I had left.

His hand returned to my hair, fingers tangling themselves in it, a sudden contrast to the rough grip they’d held there earlier. And then he settled further onto the bed, back pressed against the headboard whilst he continued to run his fingers through my hair.

The tears still flowed but the sobs came less and less, until I was blinking at his shadowed figure in the dark, holding out hope that somehow he’d just know and he’d stay. 

[mintmatcha]

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT! Mind the tags!!

TW: angst, mentions of child loss, cisfem reader with she/her pronouns

Kirishima’s voice echoes down the hall, despite how he tries to keep it quiet. The sound is almost covered by the distant mumblings of the radio, but his timbre, throaty and familiar, carries, creeping down the hall to where it isn’t supposed to be. With your eyes closed, you can picture him, with his outside coat still pulled over his shoulders and mismatched shoes crammed into his feet.

“Hey, congrats, man,” he says. The phone had rung a couple minutes ago and without a doubt, you know who’s on the other line and what they’re talking about. Only Bakugo would call this early in the morning, only one topic needs to be whispered,  “I’m really happy for you. Tell your wife I said congrats too.”

He shifts, socked feet sliding against the carpet. The hot compress pressed into your stomach lost its heat hours ago, but still, you clutch at it, pulling at it through the covers. No matter how you try to settle in, your bed offers no comfort, so you lay there and don’t even try to sleep, listening to a conversation that you know will make you hurt.

“Uh, yeah- maybe. Soonish. I, uh- yeah. I know, we're next,” Kirishima whispers. A singer once told you that whispering is harder on your vocal cords than talking and you can hear it now, tearing up his voice the lower he tries to go, scratching it unbearably raw. “Listen, I gotta go. We were at the hospital last night, so--- Yeah, we’re fine. She’s fine. I’ll explain another day, okay?”

He exhales. It’s shaky.  “I’ll explain later. Bye.”

Kirishima sighs with the weight of the world and you feel it too, crushing your rib cage. Every breath aches like your body doesn’t want to take it.

Your husband stands in the hall for a long time, still and sighing, pulling each breath deep before letting it out again through his teeth. Eventually, he slinks into the room, tiptoeing over to his side of the bed. He knows you aren’t asleep-

How could you fall asleep after that?

“Hey,” he tucks his legs under him as he settles into bed and you roll over to face him. Bags have settled under his eyes, dark and creased from tears he hasn’t yet shed. For now, in front of you, he stays strong, unbreakable even without the quirk.

"Are... are you still cramping?" he stumbles over himself, "I can heat that thing up again.”

There's a familiar knot in your lower stomach that comes and goes, but shake your head anyway. If it hurts, it feels real.

"Just let me know," he rubs his knuckles down your arm, "Anything for you."

You need him to say it. The knowledge you’re not supposed to have itches.

But Kirishima is too kind. He kisses your forehead with a delicacy that makes your eyes water.

"I love you," he says.

“They’re having another kid, aren’t they?”

Kirishima recoils at that and the horrified, ruined expression on his face tells you what you need to know.

 “Honey,” he whispers. His body crumples into yours, practically laying on top of you, and his weight pressed the heat pack even harder into your already aching core. Hid head nuzzled deep into your cheek, muffling the way his breath hiccups with an inhaled sob as he gathers himself. “Oh, sweetie.”

“It’s fine,” you reply.

He's not fine, lamenting in a tone that almost makes you mad. It aches so horribly that you've gone numb to it all, why can't he be the same?

"I didn’t want you to hear that.”  

“It’s fine.”

He squeezes you like he needs you closer than actually possible, adjusting his grip every couple of seconds when the proximity doesn't satiate him. “I didn’t want you to know. Not yet. Not so soon."

“There's no reason to get upset about it,” The edge of the hospital bracelet eats into your wrist. “It’s not their fault our babies can't stay alive."

When he reels back to stare at you, you can't meet his gaze. You know what you fid. The wound between you is still too fresh to prod, but you hit it anyway.

"Don't say that."

It was only a couple hours ago when the doctor patted your knee like he cared and said he was very, very sorry, but there just isn't a heartbeat anymore. These things happen, he said, the first fifteen weeks can be fickle, try not to blame yourself, the bleeding won't last long.

Kirishima just nodded the whole time, head bobbing up and down with a thinly veiled, wide eyed horror.

You did nothing. You've heard it before. You both have.

"Why would I be upset that Bakugo's having his third kid?" You're picking at the edges of Kirishima's sleeve, freeing frayed edges, looking anywhere but at him and those sad, sad eyes, "I've been pregnant three times too. It's no big deal."

"Please stop," he says, much louder now.

“It's not their fault I'm broken."

“Please stop.”  Kirishima's hand hooks behind your neck as he pleads, thumb running out your cheek, “I- you're being cruel."

"My baby died," you say simply, "I'm allowed to be."

Kirishima's lower lip wobbles and for a moment you swear he fractures, about to slip completely apart in your hands. Against the bloodshot white of his eyes, the iris seems faded and tired. The cut through his monolid has long silvered, much thinner than it once was, but still there, a reminder that he was young once.

Your own eyes burn with tears once again.

"Not to yourself. And not to me. You don't get to be mean with me." His thumb brushes over your cheek again, softer this time. Despite his quirk, his hands are smooth and uncalloused, their touch almost tickling. "I lost him too."

On your first date, Kirishima offhandledly mentioned he wanted his children to have quirks just like him. Back then, it was nothing more than a silly whimsy, but that thought creeped its way into your daydreams, then into your hopes, until it cemented itself there, a permanent fixture of your idealized life.

It takes effort to step out of your own grief. Kirishima didn't physically lose the pregnancy like you did, but he is still mourning all the same, letting go of a dream he's clutched for longer than you probably know.

"I'm sorry." You finally hug him back, squeezing with all the might your exhausted body can muster.

"I know." His shoulders hitch and quiver, but he doesn't cry. Not yet. The quiet of your empty apartment eats at you both, the only sound being that of your uneven breathing, out of sync with each other. Eventually you both relax into each other, taking solace in the simple comfort of proximity.

"Bakugo's gonna ask," Kirishima whispers suddenly, "And I don't know how to tell him. I can't just-"

He sniffles. "I'm not you. I can't just say it."

You run your knuckles up and down his knotted back, but stay silent. You understand, of course, the suffocating, unbearable misery that sits in the room is almost too much to address.

But how are you supposed to live with something your husband can't even talk about in public?

[lamamasjamas]

A/n: I made angst and depression on top of the ask oops (Anon is from my side blog which has now been "deactivated")

Warnings: Dub-con smut (Reader is not in a good mental state), heavy angst, he's so sexy grandpa, short drabble, mentions of addiction/drug use as well as withdrawals, Manipulative Joel, dark fic!!

"Don't."

Tess turns at his sharp tone and eyes him. Joel glances at the whites of her eyes from his peripherals. She looks up, her pupils pointed to the sky, her tongue pressing against the side of her cheek in mock annoyance.

"Why not?"

He stares off into the distance with his shoulders tense and his arms crossed in contemplation. The QZ was always an option to him and Tess. They could come and go as they pleased, they could leave if they wanted, together, maybe even make things work between them once and for all.

"She likes you, always has," Tess mentions referring to the addict that keeps coming back to him.

They had met years ago, barely twenty-two, already asking for some drugs, any drugs that could take away the images in her head, the thoughts that kept her up at night and made her afraid of herself.

She quickly became addicted to Joel as much as the stuff that he gave her. He likes that she keeps coming back to him like a dependency. He would never admit that to anyone though.

"You like her too, so what's the big deal?"

He sniffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"She's young, she doesn't know what she likes, what she wants-"

"She's thirty-three, Joel."

He finally turns to her and gives her a look. She sighs. Convincing Joel of anything seemed to be completely useless at this point. With age, his stubbornness only increased. Most of the time she had found the appeal to it, the fun and lust for the thick headedness of his actions.

But she's tired and frankly, with her own age, the original spark had gone dull.

"You'd rather she be with some other fuck in the QZ?"

She knew where to hit him, where his anger would rise the most. Joel was always jealous, ever since they met. When Tess had been able to get in contact with someone over the radio named Frank, he felt acid in his veins.

Good thing Frank wasn't interested in her, not in the way he originally thought.

He scowls.

"Oh c'mon Joel, you've fucked her before, haven't you? It will be fun, I'm sure she'll want to do it again."

He stays quiet, she pushes on his shoulder lightly, starting to chuckle.

"Just open your palm and she'll come running like a little‐"

"Don't‐," he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, turning back and stepping down from the small hill that overlooks the fallen jagged cityline.

"She doesn't deserve to be spoken about like that," he mumbles, as if he had more morality than her.

Tess hums, wanting nothing more than to have finished her sentence, aching to remind him of how much you were already wrapped around his finger. In some sense you really were, judging by your raspy moans and heady breaths a month ago, the last time Joel had seen you and coincidentally the night he had told you to stop seeking him out.

"Such a Gentlemen. See? You won't have to try so hard."

He gives her another look.

"We need this, then we might be able to get out of this place."

...

Withdrawals were a pain in the ass. Some moments you shake, having to hide your hand behind your back, biting your lip so hard it made you bleed, just so that officers wouldn't shoot you at the slightest twitch of a hand.

Other times you feel fine, your mind numb, cloudy but not enough to incapacitate you from your work. The worst is when your home, when you can't distract yourself with the flames and foul smell of rotting or burning flesh.

Being stationed in charge of the disposal of all of the infected bodies came with needs, and those needs could only be fulfilled by Joel Miller. The man who had left you to fend for yourself and deal with your sudden loss of drugs and supply.

You hated Joel, hated the way he made you believe he had actually cared about you. It's been a month, no pills, no nothing, only you and your thoughts.

Now you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, your body covered in sweat and itching with discomfort. There's a knock at your door, the same one he had told you would signify his arrival.

Now you were hallucinating, thinking of the damn bastard that had left you feeling sick and deprived. Your mind was numb, your body needing something, something to make your skin sing, your veins to sting with pleasure even if for just a moment.

You think of his hands and the door knocks again. Your own fingertips travel down to your breast, pinching your budding nipple through the fabric of your ssweater. You hear your name, out from his own lips and calling for you in his voice.

A shiver rolls down your spine. Your hands slip down your stomach and towards your folds, spreading your legs, imagining his head between them, kissing up your thigh, commenting on how the taste of your pussy was enough compensation for the ache of his knees and back.

The dip of your fingers wasn't enough, your brows furrow, they weren't as thick as you wanted, the way it should be.

"Open. It's me."

The door shakes with another bout of banging. You almost fall to the floor. Your eyes start to water and your heart races. For a few moments, he hears you shuffle around, cursing under your breath and ultimately breathing in deeply.

You open the door, and his eyes soften, just a little. Enough for you to see the slight guilt and especially enough for you to feel the pity he had for you.

"What do you want?"

His eyes rake over your form, you wore nothing but a tattered sweater, the one he had given you and that he found while scavenging outside the QZ.

Your voice was weak, you pull your sleeves over your fingers, bitten raw and meaty. In your mind, you had yelled at him, screamed and pushed him by the chest to show your anger, frustration and betrayal.

Your hands start to shake as he makes his way inside, his eyes giving you a once over at the blank look you had. He sits at the edge of your bed. His face was stoic, still stern. He looked as though he didn't bring himself to your apartment, as if you were making him sit his ass down to tend to his wounds like all of the other times.

"C'mere."

You don't move, your skin starts to itch, anxiety builds in your stomach. His mouth barely opened; he grits his teeth as he repeats his command.

Seeing you like this made him angry. Your eyes were sunken in, your body looking sickly and frail. You weren't taking care of yourself, and it was all his fault.

You move forward and his hands wound around your waist to help you straddle his hips. Your hands instinctively move towards the breast pockets of his flannel, he slaps them away.

"I need something."

You ignore him, now clawing at his jean pocket, looking for a little reused baggy of baby blue or white pills. He takes your wrists and holds them so tight you flinch.

"Listen to me."

He was like a snake, moving his head languidly in front of your face until you had finally given him eye contact. For a few moments you scowl, your eyes were clear in their anger.

He felt you. The real you. Then you looked down submissively, attempting to keep still against him, despite the way your body shook in tremors.

God, he ruined you. He shifts his thigh, pushing you slightly back so that you weren't as flush against his chest. Your legs split between his leg as he adjusts on your bed.

Your breath hitches when your cunt spreads against the rough denim of his jeans. He watches as you lick your lips, he feels the way you dampen the fabric underneath you.

He stares at your lips, remembering the time he made you swallow down a pill with his cum still held in your tongue. His eyes soften and his palm meets the sweaty, hot skin of your cheek.

His thumb pushes in, he can't help it. You suck automatically, expecting there to be sweet chalky dust littered on his fingertips.

"Need you to do me a favor..."

Your eyes tear up and you suck harder, your hips starting to twitch back and forth.

"Have some friends working for Robert, yeah?"

You don't respond, he already knows. You feel a pit of anger build in your lower stomach; you pull yourself away, but he keeps your hips in place.

His thigh bounces up against you and his finger pops out of your mouth to grip your chin. He looks down at you softly, his eyes trailing down to your lips before leaning down to devour them.

His hand cups the back of your neck and his thumb tilts your head up. His lips move against yours hungrily, his tongue traveling further as you moan as his other wandering hand massaging into the side of your breast.

He breaks the kiss slightly, thick spit trailing over your lips as he kneads your body and flexes his thigh. His eyes search over your face as you start to roll your hips and your eyes flutter closed.

"C'mon baby... I'll give you what you want if you just tell me."

You swallow thickly and lick your lips. His hand lowers between your legs, a knuckle brushing against your cunt and circling over your clit, glossy with your slick and pulsing in time with each grind of your hips on his thigh.

His lips trail down your neck as you nod slightly.

"Y-yeah..." you trail off, only speaking with an exhale.

Your hands reach the back of his head as he bites down on your shoulder, humming as you finally answered his question. He looks up at you from there, tilting his head up to nuzzle his nose under your chin.

He helps you shift closer to him, your eyes closing tightly and your lips pursing as you contained your moans of relief and pleasure at his touch and the sudden closeness of another body against yours.

"Heard they found a battery..."

You nod and lean down to kiss him again, a whine escaping your lips as he tilts his head to the side and you inevitably miss.

"Joel-"

"Know where it is, honey?"

The slightest flinch of your brow, the question developing in your head and showing through your eyes made him hesitate. He kisses you again and you're distracted.

Minutes later he has your pussy squelching, your neck and jaw covered in love bites and your hips bruised with his grip. Your back meets his chest as your hips work over his thigh.

His fingers were furiously swirling over your clit, his other hand holding your neck steady as he mouthed over your neck.

Your body shakes and he feels the way your cunt pulses in orgasm. A garbled moan escapes past your lips and you feel the way his chest rumbles in a chuckle.

Joel's mouth doesn't stop, his lips start to suck harshly against your skin, making it bruise tender, your skin resulting in raised bumps.

You realize, as he tightens his hands on you and shakes himself, that he missed the feeling.

"Fireflies," you mumble against his chest. Your body was laid on the covers, his laying on his side beside you. His hands caress over your neck, he nods and sighs in what you think is relief.

A couple minutes later he sits up, your eyes close and you feel the cold brush through your body again. The tremors come back and the twitch of your fingers towards him were weak.

He leaves something on the bedside table, you hear the shuffling of his jeans and a wet cloth against your swollen cunt. It almost feels as if you were on the precipice of sleep.

You feel lips on your forehead, the wetness of them leaves an uncomfortable feeling on your skin. The door opens and closes softly.

As you lay on the mattress, finding that he hadn't even left his scent behind on your pillowcases, you realize something else. You stare at the baggy full of pills, a little more packed than the usual he would give you.

He's gone and he used you one last time.

A/n: Fun fact, I was listening to Fog as a Bullet by The Marias...but I don't think anyone cares anyway :)))

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Your Wildest Dreams [Soap x Fem!Reader]

Summary: In a mission gone wrong, you and Soap have to hole up in a safehouse, trying to stay warm during the cold Russian winter

Author’s Note: Not me thirsting after Soap for 5.1K words instead of finishing the companion piece I started for Maybe… also, my first ever shot at writing reader-insert! Anyway, here’s a really plot-lacking, self-serving piece for anyone interested

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: Language, canon-typical violence, extremely suggestive, borderline smutty? No actual explicit smut, but let’s call it NSFW to be safe

Shrike /SHrīk/ noun

a songbird with a strong sharply hooked bill, often impaling its prey of small birds, lizards, and insects on thorns

a 10-foot (3-meter), 400-pound (180-kilogram) U.S. air-to-ground missile designed to destroy missile batteries by homing in on their radar emissions

Icy water enveloped you. Pinpricks instantly broke out under your skin, dancing through your blood and your bones. For a blessed moment, your mind went blank. Then, survival instinct kicked in. You kicked your already numbing legs as hard as you could, launching yourself back toward the night sky. Just as you thought your lungs might burst, you broke the surface, gulping in the crisp mountain air. It burned the back of your throat as you bobbed in the current, trying to get your bearings.

What should have been an hour-long intel collection mission had gone to shit in less than a minute. 

You and Soap had been dispatched to a safehouse of Makarov’s in the Russian countryside to gather intel. You were anxious- excited to be out with Soap, nervous about the actual infiltration. Soap’s signature flirting melted that anxiety quickly. It was one of the reasons you enjoyed missions with him so much… and one of the reasons you got so flustered around him.

Tensions with Russia were high, so rather than sending a full team, the pair of you had been dropped off by helo three clicks from the site. You’d go in, get the intel, get to the safehouse, and wait for evac. Barring any immediate danger, you’d be holed up there overnight, hiking out early the next morning to be picked up. Price was unhappy about sending you in without comms or backup, but Laswell was concerned with radio traffic and her sources had told her it would be empty.

Laswell’s sources had been wrong.

You’d taken a long, cold hike up the frozen mountainside to a deteriorating stone building that might at one time have been a castle, but was now little more than half-crumbled walls and hastily built wooden shacks. There had been no indicators that anything was amiss- no footprints in the snow, no pings on Soap’s heartbeat sensor, no noise. Laswell’s intel had seemed good.

Then you’d opened the door to one of the shacks and been met with a full squad of soldiers. They clearly hadn’t been expecting you, and you had the distinct advantage. Before they could react, you’d grabbed the nearest soldier, using him as a human shield while you put him in a headlock. Soap had sprung past you, shooting two others before ducking behind a desk. An overeager and overconfident soldier had fired several shots at you, nearly grazing your arm, but killing his teammate in the process. Soap had lunged at him, baring him to the ground and stabbing a combat knife deep into his throat.

The three remaining soldiers raised their weapons, shouting to each other. You’d killed one with a well-placed throwing knife as you threw yourself behind a table and watched in horror as another launched himself at Soap. You raised your gun, but there was no clean shot with them grappling as they were. Then, you were blindsided by the last soldier. He leapt at you as you tried to line up a shot on his teammate, knocking your gun to the ground and grabbing one of your wrists.

Instinct took over as you wrestled, and before you knew what was happening, you and your attacker were flying through the nearby window. You both rolled down a steep, snowy hill toward a frothing river, each trying to get the upper hand. Before either of you could, you went straight into the icy river, sinking instantly. Luckily, you recovered first.

After taking a moment to breathe, you dove back underwater, looking around for your attacker. He was close enough to reach out and touch, back to you as he tried to get to the surface for a breath of air. You swam toward him, wrapped an arm around his shoulders to hoist yourself up, and stabbed him. Once in the neck, once in the ribs, and then once in the chest for good measure. His body had gone limp at the first thrust, but you couldn’t be too safe.

As soon as his body floated out of your arms, you realized the bigger issue- the current, and the cold. You were already being dragged downstream, the tide splashing over your head and threatening to pull you back under. You swam for the bank, but your progress was minimal. Your muscles were already starting to freeze up. You looked around frantically, desperate for something to hold onto. Just as your fingers met with a sharp rock, you heard Soap’s voice calling your name.

You looked up to see him scrambling down the hill, sliding on snow and loose bits of shale. Blood dripped from his temple and he seemed to be cradling his arm to his chest. You tried to pull yourself out of the water to meet him on the banks, but your muscles refused to work. The icy water was doing its work and you could feel your body beginning to shut down.

“Soap,” you called weakly. He had almost reached you. “I can’t move.”

He waded waist deep into the water, reaching out for you with the arm that wasn’t held carefully to his side. “‘S alright, hen, I’ve got you. Take my hand.” You shakily, slowly, tried to reach for him, barely managing to brush the tips of your fingers against his, and he managed to lean just a bit further out to wrap his hand around yours. He tugged you toward him, and after a moment, was pulling you into his side. “You’re freezing, Shrike,” he murmured, rubbing your arm for a moment. You were shivering violently, barely able to move.

“I am,” you said, teeth chattering. “Your head.” Soap waved you off as he looked around, gaze settling in the direction of the town where you were supposed to wait for evac.

“The intel-”

Soap cut you off, shaking his head. “Forget the intel. Price said if anything went wrong, we get to the safehouse.” His eyes scanned your body, looking for any injuries, as his hand rubbed over your arms. “Are you okay? Can you make it back to town?” You nodded, your violent shaking making it nearly impossible to tell. You reached for his wrist, pressing on it gently. You were no medic, but it didn’t feel broken to you. 

You held his wrist with one hand as the other reached up to wipe the blood from his temple. “You okay?” you asked. He winced as you wiped at the blood, but nodded. You breathed a sigh of relief when only a shallow cut was visible.

“Just a sprain,” he said. He pulled his wrist carefully from your grip and unzipped his jacket, pulling it off.

“W-what are you-”

“You need it more than me,” he said. He walked around behind you, tucking you into the jacket before zipping you up in it.

“You’ll freeze,” you protested. Soap only shook his head, offering a lopsided smile.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

You were afraid your legs would refuse to move, but were so grateful when they didn’t. The warmth that bloomed in your chest at Soap’s sacrifice warmed you more than the jacket itself, although it did keep out the worst of the biting wind. You both trudged through the snow toward the village, teeth chattering and bone-cold. You walked in relative quiet, broken only by Soap’s soft inquiries.

“How’re you holding up, hen?”

“I can’t feel my toes, Soap.” “Hang in there, Shrike. We’re almost to the safehouse.”

As the town came into view, your vision began to swim. You’d been given the safehouse address. Now you just had to find it so you could lie down and bundle up until Price could send someone to get you.

You breathed a sigh of relief as Soap found the house, prying off one of the address numbers to reveal a key. He opened the door, revealing a tiny studio. It took less than a minute to clear- the only room with a door was the bathroom. While Soap dug out the radio system hidden under the sink, you turned the heater on full blast and looked for blankets. You found a pile in a cupboard, dropped them onto the foot of the bed, and headed toward the kitchen in search of a kettle to heat some water.

You only vaguely heard Soap talking to Price through the fog in your mind, something about getting some rest and pickup in the morning. Then, very suddenly, you found yourself looking up at the ceiling, wondering when you’d stopped shivering.

“Shrike? Shite!” You only realized you’d fallen when Soap pulled you upright. “Shrike?” He raised one hand to your neck, feeling for your pulse. He cursed under his breath, muttering in an unintelligibly thick Scottish accent as he hauled you up against his chest. You were vaguely aware of being carried into the small bathroom and deposited on the countertop there. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting to stay awake. You were suddenly so sleepy.

You opened your eyes when you heard a squelching sound, freezing as you watched Soap strip off his clothes. You’d seen him without a shirt, but only in passing in the halls on base. Never this close, and never with no one around to check your gaze. Nevertheless, you’d memorized his scars the last time you saw his bare chest. He had some new ones since then. You stared at his rippling muscles as he unbuttoned his pants, peeling the wet material off his toned legs, leaving him standing in front of you in nothing but his dog tags and boxers. You tried not to stare at the outline you could see in the fabric as he took one step toward you to stand between your legs. Then his hands were on his jacket, the one you were wearing, pulling the zipper down and your arms out of it.

“Stay with me, Shrike,” he murmured. His hands shook as he unbuckled your tac vest and pulled it off. You raised your arms as he pulled up your hoodie, then your shirt, leaving you i n just a sports bra. You let your own hands rest on his chest as you lowered them.

You giggled, tracing patterns across his pecs and down his ribs. His muscles jumped under your fingertips. “What are you doing, Johnny?”

His cheeks reddened as he glanced up, dutifully keeping his eyes on the task at hand as he hastily pulled off your boots and pants.

“I’m trying to get you warm,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“Checking you out,” you said boldly, arching an eyebrow at him and smiling. You weren’t sure where the confidence had come from, but you’d had a crush on him since day one and you’d be damned if you didn’t make the most of this opportunity. He had just reached up to grip your hips and he faltered for a moment before pulling you down off the counter. He turned you around, walking you toward the bed with his hands on your waist until pulling back the covers. Soap sat, pulling you down between his legs and back against his chest. He pulled up the extra blankets, wrapping them around both of your shoulders. You giggled again, wiggling back against him as his arms wound around you. You couldn’t tell whether he shuddered or whether it was just his shivering. You’d started to shiver again, yourself.

“Stay with me,” he repeated. His body trembled around you, proof that he probably should have kept his jacket after all. His hands rubbed your shoulders, occasionally tracing the straps of your sports bra, and he curled his legs up, bringing yours with them. His knees held yours together and he shifted one arm down to circle your waist, keeping your back pressed to his chest and your hips connected. One hand brushed your hip and he tilted his head so that his chin rested in the crook of your shoulder. His hold on you was tight, but reassuring. You savored the way you fit perfectly in his embrace.

Your bare skin felt numb, even under the pile of blankets.

Everywhere Soap’s skin touched felt scalded. 

“You’re so hot,” you murmured. 

You felt as much as heard when Soap chuckled low in his chest. “I’m actually freezing.” His voice shook when he spoke.

You leaned your head back on his shoulder, turning so that your cheek touched his. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you whispered.

“I know,” he smiled, eyes fixed on some point across the room. “I’m just trying to save you from saying things you don’t mean, so you don’t regret them later.”

When you cocked your head at him, shifting in his arms to better face him, his smile dropped. “C’mon, Shrike, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Hope flared in your chest like a bonfire. Your mind ran through all the possibilities of that statement, and every one of them suggested attraction to your lovesick mind. You stared blankly at him and he tipped his head back against the headboard, heaving a sigh. “I’m sure Gaz would be none too pleased if I made a move on you when you were only flirting because of hypothermia.”

“Gaz..?” You didn’t understand what Gaz had to do with Soap making a move on you, and you were too confused to focus on either the fact that he said that he might, or that he had just admitted he knew you were flirting with him. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. You barely dared to breathe. 

Soap’s face flamed as he looked away. He had stopped shivering so badly, but his voice still shook a bit when he spoke. “You and Gaz. I know you’re… well, something. I’d never-”

You hadn’t imagined it. Your snort cut him off. “Gaz and I are friends, that’s it.” Now it was Soap’s turn to stare blankly. You fought to speak normally, not with the giddy optimism you felt. “Remember the day Price introduced me to you all? Gaz was the first one to shake my hand, and then he showed me around base? I knew right off the bat that Ghost didn’t trust me and I thought you wouldn’t either, since you two were clearly so close.”

That brought a smile out of Soap. As much as Ghost tried to play it off, the two had definitely become good friends over their time working together. Soap loved to flaunt his position as the resident boogeyman’s right hand, to anyone who would listen. But mostly to the boogeyman himself.

You turned again, snuggling closer into his hold. His arms tightened around you, almost imperceptibly. “Anyway, yeah- Gaz was my first friend. But he’s just my friend. Nothing more than that. You and Ghost are Batman and Robin, Gaz and I are Mario and Luigi.” Soap barked a laugh, and you grinned.

When his cold nose nudged behind your ear, you couldn’t even pretend your shudder was from the cold. You gathered the last of your courage, waning with the arctic chill in your bones, but bolstered by his near-confession. “So tell me, Sergeant.” You’d lowered your voice, turning up all the charm you possessed. “What am I making ‘harder than it needs to be’?” Soap froze, and panic washed over you like water as cold as the river you’d come out of. He hadn’t been confessing anything. It had been nothing more than his usual firefight flirting, harmless and silly and just a little cocky and oh-so-hot and why would you ever think he could actually be interested in you and-

Soap flipped you, one arm around your waist as he lay between your legs, propped up by the elbow next to your shoulder. Before your mind could catch up with what was happening, he leaned down, lips a hairs’ breadth from yours, and hesitated. It was the longest and shortest second of your life. You could feel his warm breath on your parted lips as his eyes scanned your face, looking for any sign of hesitation. You half expected him to lean back up, all mischievous smile and twinkling eyes, and tease you. He knew. He knew how you felt and he was going to mock you for it. Then he leaned down, eyes fluttering shut. His lips brushed yours softly, barely touching, and your mind went blessedly quiet. Your body responded of its own accord; your knees came up, framing his waist and squeezing lightly; one hand went to his bicep, lightly grasping there; the other slid to the back of his neck.

You pulled him closer.

The kiss turned feral in a heartbeat.

The arm around your waist tightened, pulling you half up off the bed, as he let more of his body weight rest against you. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. You happily gave it. Your tongues slid together, fighting for dominance as you each tried to deepen the kiss even more. You raised a leg, wrapping it around his waist, and he groaned your name into your mouth. When you pulled on his mohawk, his head fell to your neck as he sucked softly on your collarbone.

“Johnny,” you breathed. He swore, lifting his head to kiss you again. He pulled his arm out from under you, running a warm hand across your bare skin from your hip to the back of your knee where it wrapped around him, before wrenching you up against him. You gasped at what you felt. If you’d had any doubt before, there was none now- Johnny was packing. You could feel the heat of him through both your underwear and his boxers. Time seemed to slow as he rocked gently against you, pressing his forehead to yours as your hands cradled the back of his head. He was panting, pressing light kisses against your face. He dropped his head to your shoulder, tucking his face into your neck. He seemed to be steeling himself, trying desperately not to move.

“Not kissing you,” he whispered. It took you a moment to think through the haze of lust and realize he was answering your earlier question. “What am I making harder than it needs to be?” “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Some of your earlier boldness had returned, shored up by his clear physical response. “Only that?” you whispered back.

The groan of your name on his lips was the single most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

“What?” you teased. “That’s all you want?”

He tugged at the back of your knee again, pressing you against himself. You both stifled moans. “You know damn well that’s not all I want. I want you. All of you.” He turned his head, ghosting his lips against your cheek. “I’ve wanted all of you from the moment you asked me why a ghost would need soap.”

You started, turning his head with your hands so you could look into his eyes. “That’s the first thing I ever said to you.” He nodded, gaze unflinching. His eyes smoldered, but there was a softness in them you’d only seen a handful of times over the years. When your brother joined the military, following in your footsteps. When your best friend’s husband cheated on her. When your mother died. Any time you’d cried in his arms.

“T-that was the day we first met,” you stuttered out. Again, he nodded solemnly. He turned his head in your hands, kissing your palm. 

“I knew right away,” he whispered. Soap had laughed, a fully belly laugh, and clapped you on the back. Ghost had rolled his eyes, and you’d hoped his reservations about you would fade. Not only so you could get closer to the devilishly handsome, charming Sargeant who followed his every step. When you didn’t say anything, he released your leg, mumbling apologies and sitting back on his heels. The loss of his body weight and heat, along with the blankets, made you shiver all over again. Johnny didn’t see it- he was running his hands over his face, head hanging. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have… I had no right, please forgive me-”

You reached out a hand, grasping his wrist to stop him from retreating any further. “Forgive you for what?” you asked softly. His face was pained as he struggled to hold your stare.

“For taking advantage,” he began. But you shook your head, reaching out your other hand to touch his cheek. You didn’t think he even realized that he leaned into your touch.

“You didn’t take advantage of anything.” You scooted forward on your knees, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. You leaned up, kissing along his jaw, before licking a stripe of skin just behind his ear. He trembled under your touch as you ran a hand down his arm and pressed yourself against him. “I want you, too. So you should take me.”

“Steamin’-,” Soap groaned your name. “You can’t just say that to me,” he whined, breathless. His fists were clenched, eyes squeezed shut as your fingertips skimmed his skin.

“And why’s that?” you teased. You were sure that nothing could ever match the rush you were getting from his reactions to you.

“Because,” he ground out. He’d lost the fight to keep his hands off and they now rested on your hips, intermittently squeezing the flesh and hovering. His pupils were blown, nearly eclipsing his irises. You’d never seen hunger like that in your life and it set you on fire. “If I start with you, I won’t be able to stop.” His voice was lower, hoarse. Desperate.

You scooted forward until your knees touched his, pressing as much of your body against his as you could. His entire body quivered in his struggle not to devour you whole. You dragged your lips up the column of his throat, pausing when they brushed the shell of his ear. “Then I suggest, Sergeant, that you don’t stop.”

Johnny didn’t need to be told twice.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You woke up to a soft thudding sound in your ear. You were so comfortable that you didn’t want to move, but then you remembered you were on the field. Your head snapped up, looking around the tiny room. The thudding had stopped, and when you looked down, you realized why. 

You’d been sleeping with your head on Johnny’s chest, his heartbeat in your ear. His arms were still wrapped tightly around you, face turned toward yours. He looked younger asleep. No worry lines creased his handsome face, and his brows were relaxed instead of their usual serious, lowered state. His lips were just slightly parted, breath softly fanning across your shoulder.

The night came back to you in one big wave. Kissing Johnny, straddling him, holding him close between your legs, his mouth on your neck, your mouth on his shoulder, your name on his tongue, being pressed to the wall, the stretch of him, and both of your hands seemingly everywhere at once. You ached everywhere in the most delicious way. Even your throat was sore from moaning his name over and over and over again as he made good on his promise that his mouth was good for more than just talk.

Your cheeks flushed remembering.

As if sensing your racing heart and thoughts, Johnny stirred. His arms tightened around you, pulling you nearly on top of him as his eyes fluttered open. He smiled when his eyes settled on you, slow and lazy.

“I thought I dreamed all of that,” he said softly. His voice was husky with sleep, accent thicker than normal, eyes soft as he stroked your cheek with the back of his hand.

You quickly weighed whether or not you were prepared to deal with the cockiness that would come with your next statement. “Certainly good enough to be a dream,” you whispered. The grin that split Johnny’s face was instant and radiant.

“Oh, aye?” he asked. “Would you say it’s everything you’d dreamed of?”

“I love you,” he’d gasped, holding the back of your head to his shoulder as you fell apart for what must have been the tenth or hundredth time. “I love you,” he’d repeated as he lost control, trembling violently in you and in your arms. “Oh, God, I love you,” he’d whispered as you cried out his name and carried him in a vice grip right over the edge with you. You’d never dared to confront your feelings for him too deeply, refusing to dig beneath the surface of the crush you’d harbored for him. In all your wildest dreams, you’d never begun to imagine him putting to words what you felt- and never in the most intimate moment of your life.

“Better than my dreams,” you mumbled, turning your head away from his and pressing your cheek to his chest. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see a purple bruise you’d sucked into his shoulder. You winced, raising your head to apologize, but before you could even open your mouth, Johnny turned your head and kissed you softly. You kissed him back, and then smirked as a thought crossed your mind. “Dream of me often, then?” you asked.

Johnny’s eyes darkened as he pulled you down for a searing kiss. “Every night,” he whispered. You shuddered. You could already feel his body responding beneath you as you kissed him again, smiling to yourself when he groaned. He reached for the tiny bedside table, muttering about a clock, and found the alarm there.

He turned a wicked grin toward you. “We’ve got time for round two.”

“Round two?” you shrieked. Johnny snickered as he lifted you up, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist. Round five was no less impressive than the first four, in no small part due to the added feat of Johnny holding you up against the cold shower wall while the hot water beat down on you both. 

“I can’t believe,” he’d panted “That we could have been doing this all this time.”

“You should scold Gaz for getting in your way,” you’d panted back. Johnny had practically growled at that, picking up his pace.

“I’m about to scold you for saying another man’s name while I’m inside you.”

He came undone the moment you moaned his name in his ear, pulling you off the ledge with him.

By the time you’d actually managed to get clean, your clothes had miraculously dried despite laying crumpled on the tile floor all night. You were thankful as you both stepped out into the flurry of wind and snow to trudge up the hillside toward the evac point. You hiked in companionable silence, only breaking it once you could see the ridge where you’d be picked up.

“How’s your wrist?” you asked. You’d been worried about it all night, but Johnny either hadn’t been in pain or hadn’t been in enough pain to pay it any mind.

“It’ll be fine,” he answered, smiling at you over his shoulder. “How’s your… you?” You both snickered at that.

“It’ll be fine,” you parroted. Your Scottish accent was horrible, but Johnny beamed at it all the same. You were about to pull yourself up by a rock when he grabbed your wrist, nudging you until your back touched a tree. He tilted your chin up with his knuckles, lowering his head slowly to kiss you tenderly. You sighed into the kiss, reaching up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he held you close by your waist. His lips tugged at yours softly, lightly dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before pulling back to look at you intensely. He seemed to be trying to memorize every inch of your face.

“We can’t tell anyone, can we?” you whispered.

For a long moment, Johnny was silent. When he finally answered, his voice was low. Sorrowful. “I don’t know,” he said.

You nodded, pasting a smile on your face even as your heart throbbed. “That’s okay. We’ll figure something out.”

He smiled back. “Yeah, we will.” Your smile felt a little more genuine after that. You trekked the last bit up the hill, and by the time you reached the top, you could hear the whir of the chopper. You shared one last longing look at each other from a respectable distance before the bird touched down. When the door opened, Ghost’s skull plate greeted you.

“You guys injured?” he shouted. You both shook your heads, clambering in and strapping yourselves into harnesses on opposite sides of the chopper. Ghost slammed the door, strapping himself in again on your side.

He stared at Soap, some look you couldn’t quite read. When you glanced to Johnny, his eyebrow was raised at his partner.

“You look like you haven’t slept in a week,” Ghost rumbled.

Soap looked to you, then back to his friend. He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “We didn’t get much rest- too cold,” he said evenly. If you didn’t know it was a lie, you’d have believed him. But something in the way Ghost held his stare told you that he didn’t. He could read everyone like a book, but especially Johnny. You needn’t have worried, though. Soap started right in on recapping the mission for his friend, chattering away as he always did, and you watched as Ghost’s shoulders relaxed the tiniest bit while he listened. His gaze flicked to you every so often, and you added to the tale where you saw fit. Ghost took your words as truth- he trusted you now, years later, after you’d proven yourself to him and the rest of the team.

You smiled to yourself. It would be good to see the rest of the team, to be back on base, in the comfort of your own bed… and you were sure Soap would find his way there, too.

[vaultie-and-theghoul]

Whatever you do, do not Draw Attention to Yourself

Lucy and the Ghoul had been traveling together going on three days now. Things had been a bit different since that first night together. She was still numb, still unable to ask the questions that she needed answered. On the outside, the Ghoul seemed unfazed but Lucy noticed his eyes lingering on her. She wasn't sure if he was waiting for her to have another breakdown or maybe he was afraid she would become violent. The idea of violence was appealing, but unfortunately, there wasn't a single extra ounce of energy left in Lucy's numb body.

"Pst, Vaultie," the Ghoul whispered, pulling her behind one of the large rock piles to their left, "You see that over there?" His hand reached forward, index finger pointing to a dark spot in the distance. Before her eyes could focus on what the Ghoul was pointing at, Lucy was distracted by his finger. The flesh of his index finger was pale and smooth in comparison to its brothers. It was expertly sewn to the thick leathery skin just past the second knuckle. Looking down at her discolored finger, she boxed up that question and placed it in the ever-growing pile in her mind.

"Sweetheart are ya listenin'," the ghoul snapped his fingers in front of her face, "I said, that little speck in the distance is a settlement. There will be recourses and shops there, but whatever you do, do not draw attention to yourself."

Lucy flared with hot anger that was quickly doused by more memories of her doing just that. Time after time she had in one way or another drawn attention to herself or her companion.

"I'll do my best," Lucy said, dryly, "Why are we stopping?" The look on the Ghoul's face said he had already explained it, but Lucy couldn't care at the moment.

With a heavy sigh, the Ghoul said, "Well, I may be able to survive on ass jerky and dirty water, but a Vaultie like you needs actual nutrition. 'Sides this cowboy could use some more chems."

Lucy followed behind the Ghoul, Dogmeat at his side. The closer the settlement became, the more her nerves got the best of her. Could she handle another trauma right now? Was every town and settlement like the ones she had been to so far? The panic-induced thoughts spiraled until she ran right into the Ghoul who had stopped suddenly. Instead of cursing at her, like Lucy was expecting, he reached around his back and pulled her flush against his back.

"Everything is going to be alright," the Ghoul's voice was soft and soothing, "We will be in, out, and back on the road before you know it." Lucy took a moment to steady herself, leaning into the cowboy's back. She inhaled deeply, once again intoxicated by his scent. Lucy swore that the mystery fragrance was stronger than it had been last time.

"Okey dokey," Lucy sighed into his back, "Let's get this over with."

Lucy stayed in the shadows and let the Ghoul make his rounds. She watched him saunter between vendor stands, taking "free samples" as he liked to call it. Lucy wondered if the vendors noticed and were too afraid or if he was just that good. A little bit of both. She couldn't deny his charisma. The Ghoul was rough and tumble, snarky, and had a sharp tongue to match. Yet, Lucy had seen glimpses of someone behind the hard exterior. The night he held her while she sobbed, he even stopped making rude comments each time he helped her over an obstacle.

As Lucy watched her Ghoul do what he does best, she noticed a man off to the side who would move each time her Ghoul did. Her stomach turned to concrete, heavy with dread. Lucy monitored the strange man for a few movements longer before she took action. Ever so slowly, Lucy made her way around the market's perimeter until she was in earshot.

"Target sighted, be on the lookout for CX404," the stranger said into a two-way radio. Lucy's body jumped into action before her brain could stop her.

"Uh, Mister," Lucy said, jumping into the man's line of sight, "Could you tell me where to get one of those handy radios?" Her voice was overly excited in an attempt to hide her nerves. The man looked Lucy up and down before he grinned evilly.

He brought the radio back to his lips and pressed the button, "Target Lucy MacLean soon to be in custody." Lucy sucked in a deep breath ready to yell her cowboy's name. Except, Lucy only knew him by "the ghoul". That split second of hesitation was enough for the mercenary to shove something dry and dirty into her mouth before punching her in the gut. All of the air rushed from Lucy's lungs and her head swam. Whatever was shoved in her mouth must be coated in a drug.

Lucy's vision darkened around the edges, she was going to pass out. She frantically searched until her eyes landed on the Ghoul's back. He wasn't going to turn around in time was her last thought before Lucy lost consciousness.

Cooper had noticed the duo of mercenaries the moment he stepped foot in the market. It was only a matter of time before someone put a price on their heads. Coop knew better than to bring attention to them or himself. He had a plan you see. Go in, get the things he needed for his Vaultie, and high tail it out of there. They could deal with the Mercs on the road instead of in town.

That was until said Vaultie had defied his orders and confronted the merc tailing Cooper. By the time he had turned around to see what was causing the commotion, Lucy was already out cold. Stupid fuck hadn't taken into account the extra weight of the Vaulties pack and was struggling to move her.

"All that looting was good for something I guess," Cooper said under his breath. Time to show these assholes that it ain't so easy to capture ol' Coop and his Vaultie. He inhaled through his open nose, the dry air filling his sinuses and clearing his mind.

"Excuse me, kind Sir," Cooper called to the struggling mercenary, "I do believe that belongs to me." He watched in annoyance as the merc reached for his gun. Why do they always have to go for the damn guns? In the blink of an eye, Cooper had his pistol pulled out and pulled the trigger. The mercenary's hat flew off, a smoking hole dead center.

"Now son, you have one chance and one chance only," Cooper closed the distance between them and brought the barrel of his gun to the man's forehead, "You leave this pretty little thing to me, and you and that buddy of yours skedaddle." Cooper saw the hesitation in the man's eyes and cocked the hammer, "Dont you think I won't blow your brains out right here."

"Fuck, shit okay okay," the mercenary dropped Lucy and scrambled to his feet.

"Tell whoever sent you that it's gonna take more than two shitty mercs to capture us," Cooper called after the man as he rushed away. The market around them had fallen silent, "alright everyone shows over."

The hustle and bustle of the market started up again, violence was all too familiar to those of us on the surface. As he hoisted his Vaultie over his shoulder, Cooper couldn't help but chuckle. Lucy just couldn't follow the rules. Something that pissed him off to no end, but it was also something he admired. What could his life have been like if he quit following the rules all those years ago?

AO3 Part 1 Prequel

[allastoredeer]

All this talk about season 2 has put me in a speculative mood.

So something that’s been on my mind in the past is what the Vees will be bringing to season two, especially with the fact all of them seem to have some sort of mind numbing, or in Voxs case mind controlling, function.

So I had the common thought of what happens when an antagonist with those abilities goes against the protagonist; that their allies all get turned against them to be used as weapons.

However I had a thought of what if the three didn’t go that route, instead what better way to completely destroy Alastors reputation than to make him fight against all of the hotel? Up against just Lucifer or Charlie would be bad enough but all of them? Minus husk and nifty of course since he owns their souls. I can imagine the sheer terror that deer would feel, same with Husk and Nifty.

It would also be terrifying because he’s up against Charlie somebody who would rather do literally anything else than hurt somebody she cares for.

If Lucifer were to break out I can just see him trying to convince her to come back to herself.

Vox and the other Vees would be live streaming it with voiceovers about how “look at the poor radio demon go, looks like he won’t survive that hit folks!” Velvette would definitely make popcorn.

Sorry for the rambles, just had to share.

I would be SO down if Vox hypnotized the Hazbin crew and had them fight Alastor. Maybe toward the end of the season after he's had some character growth, so he's way more hesitant about actually hurting them.

I don't think Vox is powerful enough to hypnotize Lucifer, or even Charlie for that matter, but it'd be crazy if he did. RIP Alastor, ya ain't getting out that one. I would love to see Charlie go god-mode. Imagine her finally going all out with her power. She would be terrifying. Alastor doesn't have to focus on not hurting her, he's focused on keeping her from hurting him.

I hope we get so much Alastor angst next season. I'm so excited!