#not to mention Johnny being peak Johnny | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spurbleu · 4 months ago

Text

rendezvous

ch.1 mother’s advice

[ johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x f!stripper!reader ]

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S. mother left you with very little aside from her cat, calloused advice, and a legacy at your local brothel.

warnings. shameless men, customers service industry, mentions of abuse

a/n: lore drop and y'alls first meeting :) again, slowburn so be patient

word count: ~3.2k

‧︎༚︎☉°︎༚︎‧︎༚︎✳︎☉︎︎°︎‧︎༚︎‧︎

“Only eva’ let the good lookin’ ones get dirty wich ya, darlin,”

your mama had said rather plainly one night as you fixed her tea, voice coarse under cigarette,

“no use ina ugly fuck.”

Strange, how the only good advice she had given you (alive, at least. plenty of lessons from her dead), was about sex. She’d never been gentle enough with your hair to elicit the idea she might be with her words (but being a daughter meant you hoped). So, when you buried her, outdated ramblings and boorish tongue, most of what you took with you was boneless.

You packed the vulgar with the rest of the house, strapping it to the back of your truck and hoping it would nestle in the tobacco-less walls of your new apartment (a different shade of yellow- little kinder- absent of bile). Or maybe the newer wooden floors, eroded under boot heel, sturdy still.

On arrival you discovered it had found a less subtle home. Must have been some twisted fate (a mother’s memory- hardly sweet), that your new apartment was neighbors with your town’s brothel.

Funny, how a broke, orphaned woman like yourself, sun bleached elbows and sore neck, was given an opportunity to finally test the merit of a mother’s advice.

The withering building paralleled one of her last gifts to you, a lingerie set. Old brick red, lace trim gauze between blocks. Thick straps bridging bralette to panties like the iron beams holding up a raunchy sign- Rendezvous.

Stench of sex fogged up greasy windows, drunk mumblings of wifeless (or, a more depressing thought, married) men on its porch, wearing crucifixes in bogus devotion. The oak beneath their leather was rusting by their print of dust and the grooves beneath a bottle of beer- sorrel glass broken at the foot of creaky stairs.

Recently, your old church pews found their way back to your mind. You pushed the last of your boxes through the door, knees blushing purple with guilt. No, you had decided upon arrival- you wouldn’t even look at the place.

Pig stye, you’d convinced yourself, whore house. You turned your nose to it all, prissy and ornery even as they whistled from the railings, red knuckles itching for your attention. Hasty for the day they’d see you in dusk light, starting your shift. Only for you to leave them, day after day, cockdumb and unsatisfied.

And you had been doing so well, too.

That was until you opened the envelope- your mother’s allowance. The one useful thing that the drunken, deceased mess of a women could’ve given your hopeless soul. Magnum Opus of her faulty motherhood, forgiven with just some fucking money.

But she was always more complicated than that, wasn’t she. Peaking from the back of the white fold was, indeed, that wonderful, faded green of cash- but in front of it was a depressing beige- capitalized by black ink.

Girl,

Leave this apartment to you, take care of the old thing. That brothel knows me likes me; they’ll give you a job. Make yourself some real money, use my looks, darling. Be good. without me

Much love,

Mother.

You tossed the note aside before your hungry fingers tore the dip of the paper apart- revealing, and you counted a dozen times to be sure, sixteen dollars.

Sixteen dollars is what you’re worth. Cheap cattle at a fair, squalid men drooling as your mother snickers. Your scrawny legs buckled under the weight of the gold bell- which, you’ve now discovered, costs more than you do.

You’d be angrier if you were surprised. But you weren’t. Hell, sixteen wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been- with the way her money was spent on dozens of those cancer packs a day, cig smoke stealing your wages one stick at a time.

You plucked up her note, reading between the pen’s blood to find anything else. Searching, like you had in her for decades, for a little more. A secret message between your fiber taught liaison, written in the tone she had used with you (old spice on dry meat) up until she couldn’t anymore. You could hear it now, reading the note to you, and suddenly you were five again, tugging at her shawl as sleep nipped the last pages of your Goodnight Tales.

You didn’t fail to notice the way she signed it, either. Mother. You had always opted for the simpler, casual name, ‘mama’. It felt truer to what she was, an apparition of a parent spared by a younger nostalgia- lacking the reliance, the respect, of an actual mother.

Yet another opinion where the both of you seemed to diverge.

No, of course you weren’t surprised.

But you were now extremely aware she had limited your options to the worst one. No southern shop, built on dirt and sweat, was going to take a labor virgin without a foot in the door. Which meant the only place desperate enough to take soft, vestal hands and good hair was that ratty brothel.

So, stubborn oxen halting actual progress, you watched the bar for a week.

Perched on a chair by the sill, the last bags of honey tea in your cup as you observed the lulls in its busy. That way, when you eventually forced your ass from the dips it made in the old seat, you’d walk to the door with as little shame as possible.

As you scurried across the street at dawn, sunrise made the old cobble appear prettier than it was. Light finding the gaps between stone, serenity’s veil cast over the Dutch Gables in early morning. The birth of day scared off the grimier patrons, leaving you in the barren womb to watch it’s first breath. You paused there, relishing the one time the small market looked…worth it.

Seconds after you slide through the saloon doors, barely given enough time to drink up the sandy lighting and timber walls, a voice calls from behind the bar.

“We’re closed.”

She’s a natural blonde, you can tell by her lighter roots. Freckles contour a round face under eye bags- and you even catch the subtle crease of crows’ feet next to her grey eyes- blemished and old. Her lips screwed into what you think might be a permanent frown- that is until you speak,

“I’m here to apply.”

and it turns into a snarl, skin pitching at the bridge of her nostril, “We ain’t hirin’.”

Your mother’s note comes back to you, and you loosen the resentment in your voice as you say her name. “I’m her daughter. ‘Said I- you’d let me work here.”

The wrinkle laxed, and her snarl came down to a thin neutral line. “Did she finally kick the bucket?”

You nodded, unsure how to feel when her lips curled. “Damn. Y’had a firecracker of a mother. Worked alongside ‘er iner prime. Solid woman,” her eyes ran up your shoulders, “terrible mother, I reckon.”

You swallowed- she grinned. Her hand beckoned you to the stools, and you took a seat, shaking her outstretched hand. “You got ‘er looks. You’ll do fine ‘ere. Names Francesca.” Her eye narrowed to slits, “Nobody calls me Franny. Its Francesca, or Miss- got it?”

You nodded, and she flashed you another glimpse of her yellow teeth.

“I’ll start ya at the bar. See ‘ow long ya last.”

Turns out, you lasted a lot longer than she thought you would.

Swatting advances away as you gave patrons bottles, but smart enough to never get mouthy. You caught more flies with honey anyhow- so as your boots became comfortable in the mop-clean lumber floors, you’d occasionally entertain some of them.

“You single, sweetheart?” Slurred from a regular as you filled his tab. Grisly looking fellow, got years on you. Too many to be talking.

“Enough to work here.” You slid him a drink with a smile. Syrup on a glass rather than salt. The spread of his lips was telling- he tasted it.

Boisterous laughter- too loud to want just liquor- “’nough to sit on an old man’s lap?”

No. Not enough that they thought they’d get lucky- but that was the trick, wasn’t it? Just barely easy enough to send them wily looks over your shoulder, cover the spite in your voice with flirts- onion layered by a blushing red skin- weak enough that it kept them hoping. But never truly easy, moving to the next customer before the last could lean for a fat kiss.

You rolled your eyes with your back turned to him, jaw clicking in thin patience.

“Not over here. That’s for the other rooms.”

His eyes followed your pointer finger, attention sinking its dull teeth into the cardinal doors.

You pretended not to mind your position as the face of the brothel rather than the body of it. Why would you anyway? You’re sure the girls back there would kill for an easy job like yours- given the chance to politely navigate around advances rather than being forced to feed them. You only had to serve the dry slacks- and watch them as they left soiled. You didn’t have to see- no, make- that filthy in-between.

Church taught you enough. Nothing but festering confessionals behind that door.

But goodness, could you be childish. Curious mind, insecure heart- all of you greedy. You were positive they made bushels more than you- and all for some more skin, done up hair and lidded eyes?

You could do that.

Bitter, confusing envy. Makes you mad when Francesca gave you a hard no after asking for a promotion- but sorry as you curl in thin sheets before dreamless slumber.

(Did your greed weigh more than morals? Did church and your father’s absence teach you that little? Nothing should be this existential- but maybe that’s why it’s uprooting. Forked road- giving up a part of you either way.

You hate to admit you buried something of your own with your mother’s body, but what you hate more is that it’ll take this decision to figure out just what it was. Your innocence- daughterhood and a sweet virtue, or your hearth- the fight to survive and earn. Living for a little vice.

You’d dream in saturation on these nights, colors crisper than they’ve ever been- even young. You were never sure why the colors were so bright.)

So here you are, another night drawn as a sloppy line under a bar, marking…3 months? Sunrise and sunset look so similar nowadays, and it made the silhouette of an hourglass harder to etch in the tan pages of your moleskin.

However, it did give you more time to sketch out the pub.

The booths pulled the same wood of the wall forward in a curved seat, split by a table and cushioned by yellow pillows- filled with rice, those damn things must have been harder than the booths themselves.

Around them, dark oak tables and creaky chairs- makes any working man feel ten pounds heavier with the way they whine when sat on. A candle and 3 coasters in the center of every round table, beckoning more drinks as the day died. In fact- those wax sticks were everywhere along the tavern- even in a chandelier that dangled above the liquor shelf, occasionally dripping hot tears on the bar.

Just the kind of place you’d expect to see the men you do.

Seedy- dusting in the corner of your bar are built scrawny- diet of yeast and grass evident in the hollow of their back. Mouths they hide from their mothers, hands that hit harder than their fathers. But in the redness of their cheeks- bloated by the sun and the contents you served them- was a weakness.

Masculine insecurity that had them calling you a ‘pretty bitch’. A compliment, but derogatory enough their clam tongue wasn’t revealed under the folds of their shell. No pearl, no wealth- just a common, beached, animal.

“’nother round, for mah fellows, baby.”

You glanced up. Sullen face, grey beard- twisted lips that cracked under ale. He flashed crooked teeth, and you strained a smile, forcing the tired plump of your cheeks to spread. You slipped your journal beneath the bar, taking his cups and filling them until the clouds of foam kissed the rim.

He flipped a couple coins on the counter, and you slid them into your palm.

You sighed, running your tongue along the cast of your teeth. Late hours were so boring- never new- repetitive that even the loud, sudden laughter from that back corner didn’t phase you anymore.

There were no more surprises- because everyone was here.

Ned and his calloused farmer men. Not too much of a hassle, sat in the back and called you names- but let you work. Callum and his wallowing ass in the center tables, nursing his umpteenth glass of the evening ever since his wife left.

And Silas- sweet boy- young and excited to drink. He’s more often than not by himself, drunk silly as he draws. You liked him more than the rest- brother feeling about him. Kinder.

So, it surprises you when the bell rings, well into the night, and he walks in.

Brutish arms- hung by shoulders that nearly reach the door frame. The rest of him was just as big- military fed, you had to assume. Strong jaw, buzzed skull except for a well-trimmed bush down the center. He stood out like a sore thumb, the slender builds of farmer boys a third of the bull that stood in front of you.

You weren’t the only one who noticed, as you heard the laughter behind you hush and Callum’s wallowing come to a lull. He didn’t seem to mind- especially as he made his way to the bar- eyes and smile beguiling- and directed at you.

Now you weren’t easily charmed- but you knew a handsome man when you saw one. It’s the particular weight on their shoulders- making their feet come down heavier and gate smooth.

Nothing wrong with looking at them- just as long as you don’t get too comfortable. Just because they’re clams with nicer shells, maybe even a pearl between clean teeth, doesn’t mean they’re any less washed up.

“Welcome. What can I get’cha tonight.” You offered him the same smile you gave everyone.

“Aye. A pint ‘il do.”

The thick arches of gaelic in his voice caught you off guard. Deep timbers, pine rooted in his throat, leaves lime with humor. It pooled in the back of your mouth- an aftertaste you found yourself liking.

You filled his glass, rolling the shock off your shoulders. “We don’t get many scots ‘n here.”

He chuckled as you handed him a glass, blue eyes unwavering as he took a sip. “Nae? Though’ it’da be fool of ‘em.”

He pulled a genuine laugh out of you- the sound of sarcasm familiar- comforting. “What brings you here.”

“Work.” He said plainly- but the twitch on his knuckle told you he wanted you to ask more.

“Military?”

“What gave ye tha’ idea?”

You hummed, eyes running up his shoulders. You didn’t miss how they squared, conscious under your gaze. “You don’t look like a farmer. Too much of you.”

“Aye, ere’s neva too much of me, darl.”

You sucked in your bottom lip. Charmer.

“So, you are military, then?”

“Yes ma’am.”

You idled your hands with one of the many dirty glasses that blistered under old soap studs and dried foam. The rags bumpy fabric prickled your fingers- enough to keep them from trembling when he spoke.

“What branch of the military brings you out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Most of em.”

Your lips thin to an embarrassed line. Right, of course. “I…guess I’m really asking what branch you are.”

He took another swing of his beer, and you watched as he tipped his jaw back- revealing the catch of his throat as he swallowed. Must have been on purpose- show off. “SAS. On leave, yer place looked tidy,” his eyes gave you a once over, “good tae see ’m right.”

Turning to set the glass down gave you an excuse to avoid his eyes. Demin blue but not casual, deep-set and sharp. Military grade, you could tell by the way they really saw. Accessing you, ran up the hunch of your spine and the click of your wrist- aiming to find spare bullets and threats.

He’d come up empty, though. No, not in you. All he’d find was the jump of your heart against your cervical.

“Mmm,” you offered, “Its cute, I’ll give it that much. Good for the drinks.”

He nodded, “’N maybe somethin more…”

These are the moments when your mother’s voice comes back to you. Thick spit, coarse hair- tangled and suffocating- your lungs sting almost as much as the red print on your cheek.

“Foolish child.”

Your back was turned, so you thought maybe you’d finally been tempting enough to something pretty. That the lilt in his voice, the gravel as it went an octave deeper, accent blooming under light o’s and rolled r’s- meant for your company.

That maybe, the looks you had been told were your only asset, had finally done some good.

You were left disappointed when you turned back around, cheeks a hopeful rose, when his eyes had left you. Instead, past your shoulder, to the red doors.

You’d never seen what was actually behind them, Francesca made sure of that. You could only assume it was the collection of every mans desire painted pretty- shelves of toys, women in bright, expensive lingerie, red lips on rum ones. A childish image, really, but what else were you to do?

In a way, you were just as desperate to get behind those doors as every man here. Not necessarily in the same way- not to satisfy some sick desire, dig up a buried, old arousal that their poor wives didn’t anymore.

No, for you it was to satisfy your own insecurity. Hungry creature, eager to prove and ready to sweat. To be something- pretty, ugly, didn’t matter. As long as you had a place there, you’d be rich.

“Oh, yes,” you let your customer smile come back, editing the script you were given in your head, “pretty gals over there. If you wanted a-“

“Ye work tere?”

You choked on nothing. “What?”

“Do ye work ‘n ta brothel?”

Genuine curiosity. Maybe he was hiding something else behind thin lips, but the question came out too casual for its boldness that you wouldn’t’ve caught it. You found yourself unsure in your own body, standing stiff as your bones questioned whether to lean, sit, or run.

You chose none of the three, and instead you spoke.

“No.” Not yet. You wanted to add. He hummed, taking a last swig of his pint before placing the cup on the table with a…hefty tip. You opened your mouth to say something, but when your eyes met his you were quickly hushed.

Ripped denim, now razor blue. The yellow of the lights seemed to bring it out, and if you weren’t confident he had killed a man, you were now.

“Shame,” he said, standing, “Such a bloody waste.”

#john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #john soap x reader #soap cod #soap x reader #soap mw2 #soap call of duty #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod #cod x reader

201 notes · View notes

samandcolbyownme · 3 months ago

Note

drunkenly admitting to best friend jake that you love him? while still in a relationship with someone? thank you!! i love your writing💛

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, mentions of drinking and smoking, being drunk, friends to lovers, subtle flirting, kissing, unprotected sex, fluffy filth

Word Count: little over 4k | unedited

Disclaimer: I am 100% against cheating. This one shot is 100% fictional and for entertainment purposes only! Nothing about this is real. Also, Jake and Tara aren’t as close in this, but it’ll make sense when you read it.

——

You peak you head into your boyfriends office, “You sure you don’t want to come with me to game night?”

He looks up at you, “Yeah, I’m sure. I need to get this shit done for work.”

You frown, “Okay. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

He nods, giving you a smile, “Call me if you need a ride. Have fun, babe.”

“Have fun with your work.” You smirk at him and head out to grab your bag before making your way to your car. Once you get in, you sit there for a second before driving off.

As you arrive to Jake’s house, getting out and walking up to the door. You walk in, looking around to see if anyone is there yet.

“Hello?” You call out as you shut the door, “Anyone home?”

“Y/nnnn!” Carrington drags out, “What’s up?”

He walks over to you, slinging his arm around your shoulder, “What? No boyfriend tonight?”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Nope. Not this time, he’s at home finishing up stuff for work.” You sigh as you set your bag down, “Some deadline or something. I don’t know.”

“Hey, y/n. You’re the first one here.” Johnnie says as he walks out from his room, “Jake’s moping in his room.”

You furrow your brows, “Why’s he moping? What’s wrong?”

Johnnie shrugs, “Wouldn’t tell me.”

“Yeah, he’s been like this for a day or so.” Carrington shrugs, “oh, who is that?” He looks behind you, “Taraaaa! What’s up?”

“Hey, hey hey!” Tara laughs as she walks in, “Just me and y/n?”

You nod, “So far, yes.” You laugh, giving her a hug, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.” She nods, “I was literally thinking that on the way here, I was like, I wonder if y/n is going to be here tonight, I miss her.”

You smile, “Right.” You glance over at the hall, “I’m gonna go see what’s up with Jake.”

Tara tilts her head, “No one knows, so I’m going to go see what’s up.”

“Good luck.” Johnnie says with a laugh, “Don’t be surprised if he kicks you out.”

You bat the air and walk back to Jake’s room. You knock on the door a few times before pushing the door open.

You see Jake lying on his bed, facing away from you. He’s propped on his elbow, scrolling through his phone.

“Hey.” You say as you close the door, “Jake.”

You walk over and stand there, “Hello.”

You put one knee on the bed and he whips around with a gasp, “Oh my god.” He laughs, pulling the earbuds out from his ears, “What the hell are you doing here?”

You sit down, “Game night, remember?”

He sighs, “Oh yeah, it’s Saturday isn’t it.”

“You good? Johnnie and Carrington say you’re not doing too hot.” You smirk slightly, “They say you’re being a grump.”

He groans, “Can’t a man just lay in bed and watch TikTok without being a grump?”

“I mean..” you nod, “Yeah. But with this attitude.” You purse your lips and tilt your head and Jake laughs, “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.”

He rolls over onto his back and takes a deep breath, “I’m just not feelin’ game night tonight.”

“Nooo.” You pout, “You have to be feelin’ game night.”

“You have to be feelin’ game night.” Jake mocks you, “Fine, since you twisted my arm enough.” He heaves himself forward, sitting in front of you, “Are you drinking tonight?”

You nod, “Yeah, I told Kyler that I’ll call him if I need a ride. I figured my car would be safe here overnight.”

Jake nods, “Well, as long as you don’t leave your keys.”

“Yeah, I learned my lesson last time.” You laugh, “Come on.” You stand up, walking to the door but Jake just sits there and you turn around again, motioning to the door, “Come on.”

Jake smiles and shakes his head as he stands up, “Fiiiine.”

You walk out, Jake trailing behind you and you notice a few more people have showed up.

“Alright party people!” Carrington announces, “Let’s get this game night star-ted!” He looks at Jake, “Ooh look who finally decided to join us.”

“Can it, or I’ll go back into hiding.” Jake laughs and walks over to the couch. You go to the fridge and grab a drink, making sure to grab an extra for Jake.

You and Jake have been friends for years, practically your whole lives. You grew up together, went to school together, everything.

It has never crossed your mind about being with Jake, not until recently at least.

You really liked Kyler, loved him. He built a company himself. Rose to the top himself. You were proud of him, yes. But at the same time, his job bled into you always needing to look presentable, look your best.

Every time you’re around Jake, you feel normal. You don’t have to dress to impress. Wear makeup everyday.

Jake seen you through your worst times and even some of the best times. You weren’t sure if he saw you as more than a friend, and you didn’t want to risk the best friendship you’ve ever had with someone for nothing.

“Alright. So what are we playing first?” Tara asks and you look around, your eyes landing on Jake, who is already looking at you.

He looks away, “I think we should play the drunk dice game again.”

“Oooh that’s a good one! I’ll go find the dice.” Carrington dances as he leaves the room and you roll your eyes laughing.

You walk over, handing Jake his drink as you sit down next to him.

“Thank you, my dear.” He smiles and cracks it open, “They should be in the drawer!” He yells and Carrington comes back in, holding up dice in his hand, “Got��em!”

Everyone sits around the coffee table and Carrington starts, “We only need one right, so..” he tosses the second dice at Jake and rolls the one he has, “Are you fucking kidding me?!”

He rolled a three which means he has to take a shot.

Tara pours him a shot and he sighs, “Here’s to a fun fucking night.” He laughs and takes the shot, cheering himself on afterwards, “Woo! Alright.”

He slides the dice over to the next person, they roll two, which means person to the left of them has to take a drink of their drink.

“Jake, has to drink.” They say, laughing as Jake takes a sip of his drink, “Alright. Jake, your turn.”

Jake leans forward, shaking the dice as he looks around. He rolls and it’s a six.

“Ha! Everyone, take your shots.” Jake leans back, smirking at everyone who groans, “You all agreed to play, so don’t be whining now, alright?” He laughs and you shake your head before you take your shot.

You cringe at the hard liquor and set your glass back down, “Oh fuck.” You blink a few times and lean forward to grab the dice, shaking it quickly a few times before rolling, “Four! I get to pour someone a shot and that person is..”

You fill a shot glass and hand it to Tara, “Here you go.”

“Me!?” She laughs, “Why do you hate me?” She pouts and takes the glass, downing the shot.

“I don’t hate you. I love you.” You laugh and blow her a kiss. She laughs and picks up the dice to roll it, “Oh look.” She turns her head towards you, “A four!”

She pours a shot and hands it to you, “Enjoy!”

You laugh and take it, shaking your head slightly, “I hope I get drunk fast so the taste of alcohol doesn’t bother me as much.”

Everyone laughs and agrees, moving on to the next few people. The person to their left, then the right, then they pour a shot for someone.

Johnnie is finally next and he rolls a three, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He sighs as he takes the shot glass from Tara. He takes his shot and now it’s back to Carrington.

“Come on baby. Let me give Johnnie a shot.” He laughs as he looks to Johnnie.

Johnnie shakes his head, “No thank you, I already caused myself enough pain with that one.”

Carrington rolls and it lands on one.

“Take a drink, Johnnie.” Carrington bats his eyes at him and Johnnie sighs, “I fucking hate this game.”

You laugh and the next person goes, Carrington has to take a drink. Then it’s back to Jake. He rolls a two, meaning you have to take a drink.

“That I can handle.” You laugh as you roll the dice and your jaw drops, “Oh come on.” You groan as Jake fills one shot glass and Tara fills the other.

You quickly take one and then follow that with the other. You take a sip of your drink to wash down the straight alcohol taste and you whine, “I’m with Johnnie, I hate this fuckin’ game.”

Tara rolls and it’s comes back to you with a one.

You take a sip of your drink and after the next people, Johnnie rolls and cheers as he rolls a six, “Drink up everyone.”

You all clink the small glasses together before downing the shots.

Carrington rolls a five, cursing up a storm as he laughs, “Goddamit son of a bitch.” He takes his two shots and passes the dice off.

After a few for rounds of drunk dice, you were already feeling pretty good. You were giggly, having the best time ever.

You felt your phone vibrate a few times, so you lean back, lifting it from your lap and you see a few texts from Kyler.

How’s it going?

Everything okay?

I just got done with that work shit, so I’m going to bed. Call me if you need anything. Love you.

You smile slightly as you read the last message, taking a quiet deep breath before you reply.

Everything is good. Everyone is having fun. Love you too.

You set your phone down and look over at Jake, “Hi.”

He smiles, “Hi.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” You smirk and he leans in, “Always.”

You laugh slightly, “I’m a little bit drunk.”

“A little? Girl, you wouldn’t pass a sobriety test.” Jake laughs and Carrington chimes in, “Ooh, let’s try it. Y/n. Get up here.”

You stand up, almost losing your balance from sitting and drinking for so long. Jake presses his hand onto your lower back and he can’t help but laugh, “Point proven.”

“Oh shut up.” You laugh as you look back at him, “I’ll pass this. Flying colors.”

You walk up to Carrington and he shines his phone flashlight in your face. You wince at the light and he pulls it away, “Come on, trying to be authentic here.”

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

You eventually fail the ‘sobriety test’, walking back over to sit back down next to Jake. He extends his arm out on the couch behind your head, “Told ya.”

You push his leg, “Yeah, yeah. Don’t rub it in.”

“Alright. Next game peeps!” Carrington sighs, “I’m thinking something along the lines of, never have I ever?”

Everyone cheers and Tara raises her hand, “I’ll go first.” She thinks for a moment, “Never have I ever..kissed someone in this room.”

You lean forward to pour a shot and everyone looks at you confused, “What? I’ve kissed Tara before.”

“What!?” Carrington asks, his tone sounding offended, “And you didn’t invite me to watch!?”

“I’ll do it again. Don’t tempt me.” You laugh and Carrington tilts his head, “I don’t believe you.”

You look over at Tara and she puckers her lips. You lean in and press your lips to hers. You lean back and Carrington’s jaw is on the floor.

You can’t help but laugh, “Okay. I need to take my shot.” You down your shot and Tara motions to you, “Go ahead, girlfriend.”

You laugh, humming as you think, “Never have I ever.. had a one night stand.” You raise your brows and almost everyone takes a shot.

“Jake.” You look at him, “Your turn.”

He purses his lips and nods, “Mmm.” He laughs, “Never have I ever given someone a fake number.”

“Does it count if you unintentionally gave someone the wrong number?” Johnnie asks as he raises his hand and Jake shakes his head, “No.”

“Okay.” Johnnie laughs and leans back against the other couch.

A few people take a drink and Johnnie sighs, “May I be excused for a cigarette break?”

“Oh fuck, yeah me too.” Jake raises his hand and everyone agrees that it’s break time.

——

“How we feelin?” Jake asks with a laugh. You tilt your head, “Drunk. How are you feeling?”

He nods, “Drunk.”

You smirk and shake your head, “I don’t really want to go home.”

“Whys that, sweetheart?”

You swear you melted into the couch a little bit, but before you could answer, two people announce they were going home, and Tara is quick to follow, “I think I’m gonna Uber home because no one is in shape to drive.” She giggles as she walks over, plopping down on the couch, “Bye.”

You hug her, “Bye.”

She looks down at her phone, “Oh, shit. They’re here already.” She sighs before standing up, “I’ll get my car tomorrow, is that cool?”

Jake nods, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Eventually it’s down to you, Jake, and Carrington. Johnnie couldn’t hang so he went to bed.

“It’s only midnight, why is everyone bailing on game night?” Carrington groans and Jake laughs, “We started at eight, dude.”

“Ohhh.” Carrington nods, “That makes sense.”

“You’re so drunk.” Jake laughs at him, and he doesn’t even put up a fight, “Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Can we put on a movie?” You suggest and Jake nods, “Whatcha wanna watch?” He reaches forward and grabs the remote.

“Mm. You pick. I don’t care.” You watch as he flips through the movies and you point to the screen, “Yes. That one.”

You look at Jake, “Can I have a cigarette?”

He raises his brows, “When did you start smoking?”

“I’m drunk, it doesn’t count.” You laugh and Jake nods, “Good point. Come on.” He gets up and you follow him outside. He pulls a cigarette from his pack and hands it to you.

He lifts his hand, flicking on the lighter and you lean in, taking a drag.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, then Jake breaks the silence, “So why don’t you want to go home?”

You laugh nervously, “Oh yeah, I said that didn’t I.”

Jake nods, taking a puff of his cigarette, “You sure did, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head, “I just, I really like Kyler, I just..” you take a drag and hold it before exhaling, “It’s exhausting getting up everyday to put on makeup and a nice dress.”

Jake nods, “I mean, I can’t relate to that, but I’m sure it’s tiring. The same thing everyday.”

You raise your brows, “You get it.”

“Have you..” he takes a puff, “Talked to Kyle about it?”

“Kyler.” You look up at him with a smirk, “And no. I just know that he’ll throw the I’m ceo of a big company that I built myself, blah blah. Bullshit.”

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

You chew on your lip, eyes fixated on the lit cigarette in between your fingers.

Jake walks over, pressing his back against the wall next to you, “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You shake your head, “Nothing I can’t really say.”

Jake shrugs, “Try me.” He brings his cigarette up to his lips and you feel tear welling up in your eyes. “I-“ you stop, letting out a sigh, “Fuck, okay. I’m just gonna say it.”

Jake turns towards you, his shoulder pressed against the wall, but he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m drunk, and I love you.” You take one last drag of your cigarette before dropping it to the ground and stepping on it.

As soon as you look back up, Jake’s hands are cupping your cheeks, his face inches from yours, “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words.”

His lips press to yours and your hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer.

Nothing else mattered right now.

Your lips move with Jake’s until he leans back, “Sorry, I-“

“No.” You shake your head, “Don’t apologize.” Your eyes scan over his face before you reach up, pulling him in for another kiss.

He pushes you back against the wall, his hands sliding down to your hips.

Jake breaks the kiss, “follow me.” He nods toward the door and you walk back in. Carrington is passed out on the couch, snoring away while the movie Jake out on plays in the background.

You follow him back the hall and into his room and he closes the door. He was quick to have his hands on you, his lips on yours.

Your hands slide up his chest to his neck, holding on as he lifts you up. Your legs find their place around his waist and his hands slide to your ass to hold you up.

He walks over, laying you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours, “I love you.” Jake whispers into your ear, “I could treat you so much better.”

His kisses your jaw line, landing on your lips, “I’ve known you forever.”

“I want to be with you. I want you.” You tug on his shirt and he leans up to take it off, quickly resuming the kiss.

He leans up, his hands pushing your shirt up. You reach down, pulling it up over your head and throwing it. His eyes scan over your body, watching as you reach under your back to unhook your bra.

His eyes flick up to yours before moving down to watch you discard your bra.

“Beautiful.” He kisses down your neck, to your chest, taking one of your nipples into his mouth while he kneads your other boob with his hand.

You moan out, arching your back as your fingers lace through his hair.

He looks up, moving his body up to kiss you, “You are beautiful just the way you are.” He kisses your cheek, “Makeup.” He kisses your lips, “No makeup.”

He smiles, kissing your other cheek, “Dress, or no dress. You’re perfect in anything.”

You smile, tilting your head as you lean up to kiss him.

His hand slides down your side, pulling your thigh up to his hip before dragging it over and slipping it into the waistband of your sweats and underwear, “God, baby. You’re so wet.”

You blush at his words, “Can’t help it.”

Jake’s lips part as he watches your reaction to him rubbing you clit, “That feel okay?”

You nod, small whimpers leaning your lips, “Y-yes.” You tilt your head back, “so good.”

Jake leans down, kissing up the center of your neck and you tilt your head forward, lips meeting his. He swallows your moans as he slips his fingers down and pushes two in to you.

“Fuck baby.” He groans against your lips, “You sound so pretty. All those noises.”

You moan as he curls his fingers, back arching up off the bed, “Sh-shit.” Your eyes roll back and you squeeze his fingers, “Jake.”

“I’m right here, sweetheart.” Jake presses a kiss to your forehead, “Not going anywhere.”

You slide your hands up his arms, nails digging into his shoulders and he groans, “Can you cum for me?” He kisses over your chest, “Wanna hear the sounds you make when I get you go do that.”

You nod, “I’m-“ you gasp, “Almost there.”

Your back lifts up off the bed, moans leaving your lips as Jake guides you through your high, “Fuck, fuck. Yes. Yes.”

You grab his face, pulling him in for a kiss and he groans as his fingers slip out, “you’re so beautiful.” He mumbles against your lips, “I love you.”

He kisses you, his tongue moving against yours as his hand moves to push his pants and underwear down.

“I-I love you.” You nod, spreading your legs more as he wiggles his hips to fit perfectly in between your knees.

Your moans mix together as the head of his cock slips in past your folds and his hips roll forward, giving both what you want.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him into you more and you gasp out, “Fuck, fuck. You feel so good.”

His hands paw at your skin, finding any he can grip on to, “I’ve dreamed about this..” he kisses your jaw line, “You finally letting me treat you how you deserve to be treated.”

You moan at his word, pulling him closer as his thrusts as slow. Nothing crossed your mind. Your mind was finally quiet as your focus was on nothing but Jake.

“Can you roll over?” You whisper, placing your hands on his chest. He nods, pecking your lips before moving to lay over on his back.

You sir up, swinging your leg over to straddle him.

Your eyes lock into his, his hands on your thighs as you sink down onto his cock. You tilt your head back, moaning out as you sink down fully, “Fuck.” You look down at him, hands pressing flat onto his chest as you lean forward.

“That’s it, baby.” Jake reaches up to brush hair from your face and pinch your chin, “Fuck, feels so good.”

His eyes trail down your body, stopping to watch his cock go in and out of you as you bounce your hips.

He lays his head back, groaning out as his grip slips to your hips, “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” He bucks his hips up and you gasp, eyes rolling back as your hips speed up.

“Fu-ck.” Your nails dig into his neck and he sits up, reaching up to pull you in closer for a kiss.

“Keep going.” He mumbles against your lips, “F-fuck.” He tilts his head back, his hips bucking to meet your body, “Don’t stop.”

You moan as your orgasm hits again, squeezing his walls as you guide yourself through your high.

His hands slide down to under your thighs, lifting you up so he can pull out. You glance down, watching his cum spill into his abdomen and you move over to lay next to him.

You stairs up at the ceiling, knowing what you just did settling in.

“Hey.” Jake reaches over, gently turning your face towards him, “It’s okay.”

You can feel your eyes burning, it was guilt towards having sex with Jake. It was guilt towards still being with Kyler.

“I have to break up with him.” You sit up, “I-I never did anything like this..” you move to get something for him to wipe off with. You walk back over, handing him the towel, “Do I have to tell him?”

Jake wipes off and sits up, holding his hand out for you to sit down, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.“

You nod, leaning into him, “I don’t regret anything with you. If anything, I regret not doing it all with you.”

Jake chuckles slightly, “We have a lifetime to catch up for that.” He tilts your chin up, pressing his lips to yours, “I love you for you.”

“I love you.”

——

Let me know what you think. I love you so much, thank you for reading! See you in the next one! 🖤

Also, this was kind a trial to see how I wrote Carrington so please, feedback on that is wanted! Thank you!

Likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!

#samandcolby-ownme #Jake Webber #friends to lovers #jake webber x reader smut #jake webber one shots #jake webber dirty #jake webber fluff #jake webber x reader #jake webber fanfic #jake webber smut #dirty jake webber #jake webber x y/n #jake webber x reader fluff #jake webber x you #smut #smut writer #smut one shots #dirty one shots #smut Jake Webber

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starryhyuck · 2 years ago

Text

closed doors. (m)

pairing: meandom!mark + afab!reader

words: 5k+

summary: when your brother asks if a friend can stay in your spare bedroom, you don’t expect mark lee to show up on your doorstep.

genre: smut

warnings: mark is very mean, reader has slept around, oral sex, messy pussy eating, facefucking, degradation, creampie, squirting

“No. Absolutely not.”

“You agreed to it just a week ago!”

“Yeah, because I thought when you said friend you meant another girl! Not one of your slimy frat boys who plans to bring home a different side piece every night!”

Mark awkwardly clears his throat, each hand carrying two duffle bags. “I can find another place to stay, Jaehyun. It’s no big deal.”

Then, to his surprise, the both of you are quick to turn to him and scream “No!”

“My sister is just being selfish, Mark. Go and unpack your things in the spare room,” Jaehyun says through clenched teeth.

You’re no better — staring down your brother with the nastiest look you could muster. “On the contrary, my brother is the one being selfish by making his sister move in with a random stranger! Go unpack your things, Mark, so I can tell you all the little secrets Jaehyun doesn’t want his frat to know about.”

“Don’t even think about it. You know I have way more dirt on you than you have on me.”

“Really? You want to take that chance?”

Mark clears his throat again, his wrists aching from the weight of his bags.

“So should I go unpack?”

He’s surprised yet again when the siblings turn their heads to glare at him.

“Yes!”

And that’s how Mark Lee became your roommate.

—

When Jaehyun called you last week, he made it seem very simple. He mentioned how one of his friends needed a place to stay temporarily, as their apartment had been flooded and maintenance needed a couple of weeks to repair it. Since Minjeong had just moved out of your second bedroom to be with her boyfriend across town, you didn’t mind loaning the room for the time being to save on rent.

What Jaehyun didn’t tell you, however, was that the apartment that was flooded was actually his fraternity house and his friend who was displaced was actually Mark Lee. Mark was the only one without a significant other to stay with so your brother decided to throw him with you.

Mark didn’t know that much about you since Jaehyun always mentioned you were off-limits. Johnny tried to shoot his shot with you two years ago and it almost ended in a public fist-fight between him and Jaehyun on the fraternity’s front lawn.

Even though you two bickered constantly, Jaehyun hated the idea of his sister being used by one of his friends.

Mark guessed that Jaehyun didn’t know how many guys you actually brought home.

“Oh, sorry!”

It was only a few days into your temporary housing arrangement when Mark came home from class to find you straddling Donghyuck on the living room couch. Donghyuck’s hand was up your skirt and your eyes were a little watery, indicating that Donghyuck had clearly done a number on you before Mark walked in.

“D-Donghyuck?” Mark says in shock, surprised to see one of his best friends here.

“Fuck,” Donghyuck groans, pausing whatever his hands were doing underneath your skirt. “You’re such a fucking cockblock, Mark.”

Mark pauses at the sound of your whimper. You’re pawing at Donghyuck’s chest, lips pressed against his ear.

“More, Hyuck, please.”

“Um, I’ll come back later,” Mark shuffles awkwardly in the doorway.

“Yeah, you do that,” Donghyuck replies offhandedly, directing his attention back to you.

The last thing Mark hears when he closes his door is one of your pornographic moans.

—

Mark isn’t able to confront Donghyuck about it until they play basketball on the weekend. When he finally spots his fluffy haired friend, he aggressively bumps his shoulder.

“Bro, what the fuck were you doing with Jaehyun’s sister on Tuesday?”

Renjun’s interest peaked from his spot on the bench. He’s not very good at playing basketball, but he always joins regardless to listen to all the gossip Chenle and Donghyuck throw around.

“Jaehyun’s sister?” Renjun clarifies. “Oh, you’re so fucked.”

“Who’s fucking Jaehyun’s sister?” Chenle asks, jogging over once he sees Mark has arrived.

“Everyone calm your asses,” Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Jaehyun doesn’t know and no one’s going to tell him. And if we’re being completely honest here, I’m not the only guy on her weekday list.”

Mark frowns. The only guy he’s seen you with over this past week has been Donghyuck.

And the menace himself can already sense what’s lingering in Mark’s head. “You know that whenever you play basketball with Chenle, she’s definitely fucking other guys in your apartment, right?” Donghyuck questions.

Mark’s brain temporarily short circuits at the information. That would mean you’re fucking someone right now.

“But Jaehyun-“

“Jaehyun doesn’t know. And he doesn’t need to. All her hookups are kept on a hush hush basis,” Donghyuck smirks, cocky at the fact that he gets to fuck you without your brother punching his face in. “And now that you’re her roommate, maybe you can add yourself into the mix.”

Chenle laughs at the idea. “Please. Mark would fuck her and immediately run to Jaehyun out of guilt. There’s no way.”

Mark bashfully scratches the back of his neck, not disagreeing with Chenle’s statement. “Plus, I don’t really see her that way.”

The comment makes all three men chuckle. Donghyuck places a hand on Mark’s shoulder, giving him a serious look.

“Mark, everyone sees her that way.”

—

Mark returns home to see you sitting on the couch, eating some trashy food and watching your favorite reality television show. You look completely exhausted, and Mark wonders if it’s because some other guy just fucked you.

“Hey,” he greets you, slipping his shoes off and throwing his backpack to the ground.

“Hey,” you reply, more interested in whatever’s happening on your show.

Mark awkwardly prepares a bowl of ramen for himself and takes a seat next to you on the couch. You’re wearing nothing but a thin camisole and a pair of sleep shorts, and he tries not to pay too close attention to the leftover cum smearing your thighs.

“What are we watching?” He asks, trying to start up some sort of conversation.

“Some mind numbing show. I need something to distract me since I got bad dick tonight.”

Mark swallows. He wasn’t expecting you to be so direct about it, or even tell him about your escapades when he leaves the apartment.

“Oh?” He tries to level his voice. “Sorry about that.”

You sigh. “It’s whatever. Guys think that just because I’m horny when I’m ovulating, I want to be some sort of cumdump for them.”

He wonders why you’re telling him all of this, but he lets you continue your rant regardless.

“I mean, yes, is it nice to get thrown around and used every once in a while? Sure. But that doesn’t mean you forget about me cumming too!” You groan, and Mark can tell how frustrated you are.

Donghyuck’s evil voice whispers in his ear and Mark can’t help but let the next words slip out of his mouth.

“I can help you if you still need it.”

You pause eating your burger and turn to him. It’s almost like you’re seeing him for the first time, eyes scanning him up and down and checking him out. Mark’s brain suddenly spirals, and he wonders if he’s crossed an invisible line. You’re probably not even into him, and now he has to go apologize to Jaehyun-

“Sure,” you shrug, setting your food down.

His wide eyes watch as you lay yourself down on the couch, shimmying your shorts to your ankles and flinging them across the room. Mark feels like time has completely stopped when he sees the wet patch in your underwear, some other guy’s cum spilling through the fabric.

“Sorry about the mess,” you apologize. “I was too lazy to clean myself up after he left.”

Mark sets his ramen bowl down on the coffee table, unsure of how to approach this situation. He didn’t even think you would agree to his offer.

“He didn’t help clean you up?”

You giggle. “Aw, it’s cute that you think other guys do that.”

He ignores the fact that the tip of his ears are probably blooming red, adjusting the rising stiffness of his cock in his small basketball shorts. He positions himself until he’s face to face with your lace panties, thumb curiously padding over your folds.

“Mm,” you whimper needily, hips bucking themselves upwards. “Don’t tease, Mark.”

He couldn’t help but start sucking you over your underwear, his tongue catching a mix of leftover cum and your wetness. He hears your breathy giggle and your hands tangle through his hair.

“You’re nasty,” you remark. He peers up at you briefly to see your cloudy eyes.

He makes a show of slowly rolling your panties down, cock twitching at the sight of your ruined pussy.

“You’re really swollen,” he comments, fingers pushing your folds apart gently.

You hold back a moan. “Yeah, he did a real number on me. You said you can make me feel better though, can’t you?”

Mark answers by sloppily kissing your cunt, tongue prodding your entrance. His nose presses against your clit and you whine loudly. He doesn’t even need any more guidance from you, delving into your pussy and eating you like a man starved. He starts off by sucking your folds gently, mindful of how the last guy who fucked you probably didn’t prep you at all. When he hears your pitiful moans, however, and your chants of more, more, more, he becomes more desperate.

“Shit,” you gasp. You’ve never had a guy eat you out this good before, and you’re genuinely surprised by how fast you’re reaching your high. “Oh, fuck.”

You panic a little at the familiar tension building in your stomach, and Mark groans when you try to push him away.

“Wait, Mark, I’m going to-“

You collapse into a series of moans when your orgasm hits, your brain turning fuzzy. The only thing you hear is the filthy squelch of your juices and Mark eagerly slurping up your high.

He pulls away and watches as you slowly realize you’ve squirted everywhere. You groan and shut your eyes tightly.

“Sorry about that. It happens sometimes.”

He tilts his head, confused. “Why are you apologizing? That was so fucking hot.”

You giggle and open your eyes again, meeting his lust-filled gaze.

“Really? A lot of guys usually hate it because of how messy it is.”

“They’re idiots.”

You smile, tugging him upwards so you can kiss him. “Maybe you deserve a little treat for making me feel that good,” you whisper, palming him over his shorts.

Mark is about to strip so he can take you on the couch, but stops when he hears a knock at the door.

His body completely freezes when he opens it to see Jaehyun on the other side. The older male raises an eyebrow.

“Dude, did you forget I was coming over to work on our project?”

Before Mark can protest Jaehyun coming in, the man is pushing past him. Mark quickly tries to think of any excuse for why you would be half-naked on the couch, but before he could start frantically explaining himself, he’s surprised to see you’ve somehow located your shorts and slipped them back on. You also knocked over a bottle of water on the couch to make it seem like the remnants of your orgasm was just an accidental spill.

You roll your eyes at the sight of your brother, pushing past him to go into your room.

“Looks like you dragged the trash in, Mark.”

Jaehyun hisses lowly when your bedroom door shuts.

“Devil. I hope she’s not corrupting you.”

Mark swallows, pushing away all thoughts of fucking you to try and get his erection to lower.

“Nope. Definitely not.”

—

Mark avoids you for the next couple of days. The maintenance at the fraternity said the guys could move back in next week, and Mark’s current plan was to avoid you as much as possible until move out day.

He was slightly successful, but also a little hurt since you didn’t seem to care that he was avoiding your presence. You carried on like nothing happened, and Mark saw you walking around campus with a different guy almost every day.

It isn’t until Donghyuck confronts him that he finds out the truth.

“What the fuck did you do?”

Mark’s never seen Donghyuck so frustrated, hair sticking up in different directions and clothing being inside out. Mark innocently continues to dribble the basketball, looking at Chenle for help. His friend stands on the other side of the court, shrugging in response.

“Uh, what are you talking about?”

Donghyuck pushes him aggressively. “You know what I’m talking about! She won’t fuck any of us!”

Mark is more confused than ever and Donghyuck throws his hands up. “You’re a fucking idiot,” Donghyuck murmurs under his breath. “I’m talking about your little roommate! She canceled all of her hookups this week, including me, Jeno, Jaemin, and Yangyang. I want a fucking explanation, Mark, for why I wasn’t able to get good pussy today.”

Mark shrugs. “How am I supposed to know?”

Chenle comes over when he realizes no one’s planning on throwing the ball to him anytime soon. “Hyuck, she probably got a boyfriend. Leave Mark alone.”

“No no no,” Donghyuck chuckles like an evil villain. “She doesn’t do that dating shit. She’s either getting really good dick or Jaehyun found out. So I’m going to ask once again — what the fuck did you do, Mark?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Mark puts his hands up innocently. “Otherwise I’d get in trouble too.”

The statement makes Donghyuck and Chenle stop in their tracks.

“No way.”

“You?!”

Mark winces at how loud Donghyuck’s voice can echo.

“You?” Donghyuck repeats in shock. “No way. She canceled on us to fuck you?”

“We haven’t fucked,” Mark clarified. “I just ate her out last week because she wasn’t feeling good and I was going to fuck her until Jaehyun came over. We haven’t done anything since then.”

Donghyuck strokes his chin like he’s trying to solve a mystery.

“How did she cum?”

“Huh?”

“Did she pretend to cum? Did you feel her actually cum? Did you use a vibrator? Did you use your fingers?”

Chenle gags. “This is the worst conversation I’ve ever heard.”

Mark awkwardly clears his throat. “I just used my mouth. And she squirted.”

Donghyuck completely freezes and Chenle waves a hand over his face.

“Dude, I think you broke him,” Chenle mutters.

Mark squeaks when Donghyuck suddenly tackles him, the younger boy pinning him down and glaring at him.

“What the fuck?” Mark exclaims, trying to push Donghyuck away from him.

“You’re lying,” Donghyuck growls. “You have to be. There’s no way you made her squirt.”

“What’s the big deal? She said she’s done it before,” Mark says, still failing at getting Donghyuck off of him. He ignores Chenle’s laughs at his predicament.

“Yeah, by herself! No guy’s ever made her squirt before. Trust me, me and Jeno have tried many times. Separately and together.”

Mark ignores the fact that Donghyuck just admitted to having regular threesomes with Jeno.

“But she told me-“

“She lied. So clearly she stopped fucking us to get with you. This is so humiliating for me.”

Mark sees a flash of a camera and Chenle’s giggle.

“And now we have it documented.”

He hears the soft padding of footsteps before Renjun approaches, taking in the sight of Donghyuck pinning Mark down on the floor of the basketball court.

“Um, what did I miss?”

“Oh, Renjun, you won’t believe this but-“

“Zhong Chenle!” Donghyuck finally peels himself away from Mark to chase Chenle around the court, preventing him from telling Renjun about how you rejected Donghyuck for Mark.

Mark’s head is still spinning from the information when he sees Renjun’s head pop into his vision above him.

“You look sick. You should go home, dude.”

—

Mark followed Renjun’s advice and got out of the court as fast as possible. He dismissed Donghyuck’s insistent protests for an explanation on how he made you squirt.

When he arrives home, he’s surprised to see you cooking ramen on the stove. He’s even more surprised to see you wearing nothing but his shirt and a tiny pair of panties peeking out from the bottom. You turn slightly to see him, smiling when he walks through the door.

“Welcome home!”

He tries to ignore how his cock twitches at your words.

“Um, thanks. What are you making?”

He drifts into the kitchen, ignoring the voice in his head that’s telling him to go to his room and lock the door.

“Just some ramen,” you hum. “Wanted a quick snack.”

“Ah,” he nods. “I actually just came back from seeing Donghyuck.”

“Oh?” You say, not sounding surprised in the slightest by the information. “Did he say anything?”

Mark can tell you’re playing a game with him, and he’s not sure if he wants to bite. “He just mentioned how he hasn’t seen you lately.”

You laugh. “I’m sure Donghyuck was more colorful than that. He isn’t exactly careful with his words.”

Mark nervously swallows. “Well, he said that you haven’t really seen anyone since last week.”

You hum. “Interesting. I wonder why that is.”

You shoot him a small smile, and Mark recognizes the mischievous glint in your eye. You reach for some spices on the top shelf of your cabinet, and he gets an eyeful of your ass.

You gasp when you feel Mark press against your back, and you watch as he turns off the stove.

“Why are you teasing me?” He breathily asks in your ear, fingers gripping your hips tightly.

“Am I?”

He can hear the smirk in your voice. “How did you get my shirt, you little minx?”

You giggle, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your core.

“I did a little snooping in your room. You’re such a slob,” you say, remembering all the stray chip bags and old t-shirts Mark has lying around.

“Sorry,” he apologizes as he cups your mound, and he groans when he feels how wet you are. “This is supposed to be a temporary thing, remember? I don’t exactly have to keep everything in tip top shape.”

Your folds are practically spilling out of your underwear. “Don’t you think these panties are too small for you?” He asks, rubbing your clit gently. You whimper and buck your hips up into his hand. “It’s no better than not wearing them at all.”

“I thought you liked seeing my pussy,” you hum, leaning back on him. “You sure liked it when you ate me out last week.”

Mark is quick to move your underwear to the side, inserting a finger into your cunt without warning. You moan loudly and grip onto his arms.

“About that, Donghyuck told me something interesting,” he mentions, focusing on how tight you feel around his finger. “He said no guy’s ever made you squirt before.”

You’re pretty desperate for him at this point, so you barely register what he’s saying in favor of trying to get him to push more of his fingers into you.

“Uh huh.”

He chuckles and the sound shoots straight to your core. He grants your wish and pushes two more fingers into your weeping hole, basking in how he stretches you open. Your mind turns into mush once he starts pumping them in and out of you, scissoring and rubbing against your sweet spot. You wonder how he’s managed to learn your body so quickly.

“It really grabbed my attention when he said that because I was under the impression that someone’s done that to you before.”

Your whimpers turn into cries when his thumb starts to circle your clit, and you struggle to respond to him.

“J-Just my fingers. Not a-anyone else,” you mindlessly say.

“You’re so fucking desperate,” Mark hisses meanly, nipping at your ear. He has to admit that his conversation with Donghyuck has given him a major ego boost. “So what? You fuck every guy on campus to try and get close to the pleasure I gave you? But they’re not me, are they? That’s why you stopped going to them.”

“Mark,” you cry when he removes himself from you, slapping your ass roughly.

“Get on the counter.”

You quickly obey, legs wobbling slightly as you prop yourself up on the kitchen counter. Mark is fast to drop to his knees, spreading your legs apart and diving into your cunt.

“Fuck,” you whimper when you feel Mark’s tongue lapping at your wetness.

He keeps his eyes on you when he sucks your clit, slipping two fingers in your entrance. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your whole upper half collapsing on top of the island.

Mark’s gaze follows you, learning what you like and what your body really reacts to. Every time he curls his fingers upwards, you shake a little and your moans grow louder.

“S-Shit,” you gasp, struggling to breathe. “How are you so fucking good at this?”

That tension is building in your stomach again, even faster than the first time. You can tell Mark is expecting it, opening his mouth wider and sucking you harder. He revels in the sound of your loud cries, begging him for more and desperately asking to cum.

“Please, please, please-“ you plead, pushing Mark deeper into your cunt.

He pulls back briefly to direct you. “Squirt for me, baby. Show me how I’m better than everyone else.”

When he grazes your clit with his teeth, you fall off the edge. Mark eagerly fingers you while your juices spill on the kitchen floor, his cock straining in his shorts.

Before you can regain your senses, you find yourself being turned around, and your feet hit the kitchen tile.

“Mmf,” you mumble blearily, your vision blurry.

He shushes you, hands exploring your ass as he pulls your underwear down. “It’s alright, baby. I got you.” You feel the tip of his cock prod your entrance and you whimper, pushing yourself back on him subconsciously.

“Please- I want-“

“I know, I know,” Mark assures you, voice sounding slightly smug. “You want my cock, don’t you? Dripping for it, acting like a whore just to get it.”

Your cheek presses against the counter, mind empty and thinking of nothing but Mark’s cock. When he finally eases himself into your cunt, you swear you see heaven.

“Shit, baby, you’re soaking. Makes it so easy for me to slide in,” he mumbles, watching as he easily disappears into you.

“M-More, more-“ you plead, reaching behind yourself in an attempt to get him to bottom out.

When he finally does, he’s laughing condescendingly in your ear. He brushes your hair away from your face when he thrusts in the first time so he can see how you fall apart.

“You’re so fucking easy,” he snickers, and you’re amazed by how you unlocked such an evil side to Mark Lee. “No wonder all the guys pass you around like a new toy.”

It’s embarrassing how fast you reach your second orgasm. You scream and shudder when your body snaps. He shows no signs of stopping either, railing you through your high. You reach the point where you can’t tell if you’re begging him to stop or to fuck you until you pass out.

And Mark has no idea where this burst of confidence comes from, but he finds himself pulling out of you and tucking himself back into his shorts.

“What-“ you whisper, suddenly feeling empty. “Where are you going?”

“Clearly, a brat like you only cares about her own pleasure. I guess I should find someone else to take care of me.”

You begin to panic even though Mark has no intentions of actually leaving. “Wait- Wait, no-“ you desperately cry, legs shaking as you try to stop him. You immediately sink to your knees, hands gripping his thighs. “I can take care of you.”

Mark scoffs, eyes challenging you. “I doubt it. Look at yourself — kneeling in a puddle of your own filth, thinking you can suck my cock and be decently good at it. I’m not like Donghyuck, you know. I don’t cum easily.”

“I don’t want Donghyuck,” you sob in despair. If he’s surprised by the sudden tears running down your face, he makes no show of it. “I want you! Please, I’m sorry I was so selfish. I won’t be like that ever again.”

He runs a finger down your face before cupping your cheeks harshly.

“Then tell me I’m the only one who gets to fuck you from now on. No one else.”

You don’t skip a beat. “Just you. I’ll only fuck you from now on, I promise.”

“Show me.”

You quickly take his cock out, angrily red and leaking from the tip. You gasp when Mark grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs cruelly. You get the message, opening your mouth wide and loosening your jaw.

He has absolutely no mercy on you, shoving his cock far down your throat. He ignores your gagging, saliva dripping from the sides of your lips. He begins a brutal pace in face fucking you, his cock consistently hitting the back of your windpipe.

Venom drips from his voice. “I want you like this from now on. Ready on your knees as soon as I walk through that door. Understood?”

You try to nod but it only comes out as a mix of garbles and choked noises. He finally grants you mercy and allows you to breathe for a few seconds.

You wheeze, coughing and sputtering. Mark decides it’s enough recovery time for you, however, pushing you up against one of the kitchen cabinets on the floor. He completely folds you in half, throwing your legs over his shoulders and lining himself up to your entrance once more.

“Beg for it.”

“Please fuck me!” You cry, not caring how pathetic you sound. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll be a good girl. Please!”

“And?” He says, leaning closer to you with a waiting gaze.

“And you’re the only one I’ll be with from now on! I promise!”

Mark ignores that his knees are soaked in your juices from earlier and that he’ll probably get bruises from the kitchen tile. He fucks you at a brutal pace, slamming your head into the wooden cabinets over and over at the force of his thrusts. Your neck aches but he makes you watch him pound into you, his cock abusing your pussy as he likes.

“If you’re nice, I’ll let you cum again,” he hisses, balls slapping against your ass lewdly. “If I think you’re being a brat again, I’ll make you lick your cum off the floor.”

“G-Good, I’m g-g-good,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent sentence. “Good girl!”

He chuckles. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

He leans over you and you take the hint, opening your mouth and allowing him to spit on your tongue. You swallow eagerly, showing him how you obey him.

“You’re such a perfect little doll, aren’t you?” He snickers, your wetness starting to form a creamy ring around the base of his cock. You can’t tell if he wants you to answer, but you’re too fucked out to reply anyways. “When Jaehyun told me to come live with his sister for a few weeks, I never thought you’d be such a campus whore. He always talked about you like no one’s ever even allowed to speak to you. Guess he’ll never know how most of his friends have already spitroasted you, huh?”

“I-I need-“ you whimper, failing to come up with what you want to say.

“Aw, baby wants to come?”

You nod, hoping he’ll grant you permission. He smiles as he stares at you, fully cockdrunk and wanting more. He knows he has you in the palm of his hand now.

“Go ahead.”

When he feels you tighten around him, Mark goes with you, ropes of his cum shooting deep into your cunt. There’s so much of it that it spills out of your folds.

When you come down from your high, you pay no attention to the searing pain in your neck. You look up at Mark with wide eyes.

“Are we together now?”

He still feels a little mean, so he pushes you a little more. “Donghyuck said you don’t do the dating shit.”

“B-But I want to be with you,” you say softly, looking like you’re going to cry again if Mark rejects you.

He takes pity on you, lifting up your chin and kissing you gently.

“Alright. But you have to protect me from Jaehyun.”

You giggle and nod.

—

When the frat house is finally repaired, you show up to help Mark move in, hand intertwined with his. Every single fraternity member stops at the sight of you in the doorway, jaws open.

“You’re so fucked,” Johnny laughs, getting out his phone to film Jaehyun’s reaction.

Your brother comes into sight, carrying one of the moving boxes in his hands. He immediately drops it at the sight of you two, his eyes locked in on your joined hands.

“You look like trash,” you laugh at the sight of Jaehyun’s hair sticking up in multiple directions.

Mark swallows when Jaehyun angrily stomps over to the two of you. Mark internally prepares himself to get his ass beaten by Jaehyun, but he’s shocked when instead of fighting him, Jaehyun drops a hand to Mark’s shoulder, frowning.

“I’m so sorry, Mark. You’re one of the good ones and I failed to save you from the pits of hell. Instead, I led you directly into her arms and for that, I’ll be eternally apologetic.”

“Oh, you stupid fucker!” You scream, grabbing your sibling by the ear and pulling him outside.

Mark watches as you and Jaehyun throw hands on the front lawn, spitting insults at each other. Johnny comes up next to him and sighs.

“You’re such a lucky bastard.”

#nct smut #mark #mark lee #mark smut #mark lee smut

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therealslimshakespeare · 5 months ago

Text

The kids aren’t alright

Summary: Ida wakes up and takes stock

October 1943

Requested? ✅ 18+ mature (thematic material)

Warnings: a lot of bodily injuries mentioned, way too much use of vomiting sorry, mentions of an intentional dog bite, past references to sexual abuse, very brief mention of an object being used to rape someone…if you read that sentence? it’s about that bad, I tried to keep it vague

When Ida woke for the first time, well and truly and fully, it was to the feeling of muggy warmth and a comforting snugness pressing to her chest. Her body ached but only in the way that suggested that moving would make it far worse, and so she tried to remain still, clock her surroundings, its smells and noises and the likely extent of her injuries by pain alone. Her cheek hurt the worst, a raw sort of agony that increased with each breath until she switched to inhaling through her mouth to make it stop, her right rib smarted in the way of an open cut, and her mind scrambled to supply a cause for this, quicker than it had for her cheek. Most sluggishly it tried to alert her to the all encompassing throb of her pelvis, a pain too intense and easily provoked by thought alone that she summarily shoved it down for the time being.

She would try to open her eyes, and then move off her cheek, and if that was possible, only then perhaps could she shift her hips. Her lower belly felt as if filled with glass shards, and if she were to jostle them, they might begin slitting her open anew. Take a peak Ida, she told herself, see where you are, see who is near.

With that plan of action barely in place, Ida willed an eyelid open.

Foggy sunlight filtered in, wether the window pane was filthy or the weather overcast she could not discern, but there was a blurry expanse of lumber before her and as things began to slot in place she recognized the camp. Not the horrid one, no, the stalag, the prisoner of war camp -she had made it, they had all made it. Almost all, that poor corporal and her warm brains hadn’t. The nurse either. Forsyth either.

There were bunks and lumber and a fuzzy stack of dishes and someone moving in a chair at a hulking object that was likely a table.

She held her breath, hoping her vision might clear if the smarting of her cheek would stop, and in response the arms that seemed to be bracing her together squeezed all the tighter. She let out a grunt of pain at it and moved her frozen hand to tap at the large paw interlaced over her sternum.

She really shouldn't be able to guess its owner so accurately considering the professional nature of the relationship they shared, yet she could: "I see you decided to join us, Egan." she rasped, throat feeling made of sandpaper.

The iron tight grip spasmed in response before loosening. "Oh hell Ida,” Bucky sighed heavily behind her, “scared me, ya stopped breathin’, -thought you were dead there for a minute."

"So you already took over my bunk?" she was passibly amused by his presumption, it was too relieving that he was even alive.

Whoever was at the table rose and came nearer.

"No,” Bucky countered firmly, “I didn't want them to find you cold and take your body away."

That was touching. And like him. She must’ve been in poor shape. "Bucky, you've got the heart of a child."

The figure from the table stooped over her and the back of a gentle hand she’d know anywhere, ran along her hairline, “Hey.” her brother greeted softly and Ida felt a sudden burn to her eyes at the relief of seeing his cherished face and feeling his doting touch. She knew she had met him, reunited with him here, but it was such a blur and she had no idea how long she’d been out for. It hit her now, Johnny and Bucky had her. She was alright, and so were they.

“Jack.” she croaked to him, trying to kiss his knuckles in sheer gratitude to their creator for allowing them both a little longer together. “Johnny you- you’re ok? And you’ve got legs.” she reaffirmed to herself and he laughed in agreement, watery and happy.

“Yeah,” he got to his knees by her bunk so they might be at eye level, his grin the homiest thing she’d ever seen, “all in one piece. God, it’s good to see you awake, Ida. You ok? Want some water?”

She could manage a nod but was loathe to let go of him, Johnny only managed to laughingly extract himself after he’d kissed her forehead twice over and “-jug is just on the table, I’m not going far-“

“Is everyone alright?” she asked of them both as he went to fetch it, tracing over the broken skin of Egan’s knuckles, the one part of him she could see without shifting. She wondered how he’d gotten here, how long after. “Everyone? My girls are -are my girls ok?”

“All settled, all fine.” Johnny assured her as he kneeled back down, tin cup filled with the brackish camp water they’d taken to filtering through an undershirt. It was the best they had to offer. “Cleven’s got all sorts of measures in place, there’s been no trouble.”

“How long?” She sighed in relief, trying to find the strength to lift her head and take a sip. “How long have I been out?” Her girls had needed her and she’d crashed on them, they’d asked for bunks and remedies and they’d barely managed a shower before she’d abandoned them for her bed.

“Almost two weeks, Eye Eye.” Johnny whispered as if that blunted the news, Ida startled predictably and Bucky Egan made a soothing sound like she were a pet to be calmed. “You need to drink.” Johnny observed practically in reference to the timeframe and she supposed he was right and let him help tilt her jaw and bring the rim to her lips, Bucky’s hand came up from somewhere in back to prop up her heavy head.

As thirsty as she was, the bitter tang of metallic water was not at all what she had dreamed of when it first sloshed against her lips. She forced gulp after gulp of it down, grateful for it and all too reminiscent of recent times without, but it was revolting. No sooner had she pulled away to gain some upper hand on the rising nausea than she felt the surging of bile instead, faster than she could process, much less tamp down.

Something in her face must’ve shown as her observant brother tumbled backward on the floor with a flailing hand that grasped for any receptacle available, right as she wheezed out a warning “bucket!”

Her face felt horrible, and her stomach hated the rough and involuntary movements that puking required. Ida groaned weakly between bouts but it kept coming -the urge that is, after the water came up there was nothing else besides bile. Johnny had managed to grab something, although Ida was too preoccupied vomiting and keening in agony to notice what. She puked in the general direction of his lap and hoped for the best, the grounding feeling of his hand cupping her battered cheek the only thing tethering her in the pain.

For a moment Ida had the displaced thought that her brother was helping hold back her hair. But the feel of his fingertips against the lacerations on her tender scalp reminded her she hadn’t any. And that memory brought another wave of revulsion and she wretched all the harder. She was in this state, in this much plain, out cold for two weeks because of what those men had done to her. Oh god, did everyone know what they had done to her—

“Breathe, you’ve got to breathe.” Egan was gripping her chest again and it made it worse except now she could feel herself shaking and that brief, spiraling moment of numbness began to dissipate and she almost mourned it as the pain returned and she sobbed into her next retch. “That’s it, that’s it, shitty water is all, Johnny’s gonna get you some sparkling, aren’t ya Johnny? Yeah, yeah breathe Ida, breathe.”

She had to stop sobbing. It was pathetic at this point, she was perfectly safe now and all that harmed her was a little brackish water and a sour stomach. She breathed as told and blinked the water out of her eyes. “Johnny, that's a damn plate.” she scolded, now noticing what he’d grabbed, “I said a bucket.”

Johnny smiled back ruefully, “Wasn't one close.”

“Now you've got -I’ve made a mess of you,” she cried, contrite herself, “that’s disgusting.”

Johnny shrugged and set the full plate aside, brave face in place despite the gnarly nature of the incident. “Seen worse.”

Ida just stared at his lap and the odd pattern of criss cross stitches on his trouser seams and the rusty stains all along them. What had they done- “Johnny your pants-“ she didn’t even notice the way she tried to rise in her agitation until Bucky’s firm hand came again from the back like the spectral arm of God and pushed her down once again. “What did they do to you?” she was back to numb at the horror of it and this time she didn’t like it.

John Brady stared at her and then back to his lap before jerking with horrified realization, “No, no these -these are yours.” he rushed, utterly unsure that was actually a comfort, wishing in fact that they were his and he’d have borne their significance for her, “I gave you mine while we mended yours. Now they’ve got vomit on ‘em too.” he tried to grin, to make the joke they were his work pants now, best used for the grittier duties in camp, an eyesore no matter what and rather talked of. He preferred to be the one wearing them, the one talked of instead of her, it was all untrue speculation in that case and the guards’ taunts were empty and without real history while he wore them. “These are yours.”

“You two lanky lil shits.” Bucky mumbled to break the tension. “Not an ounce of butter fat on either of you.”

“Are you done puking?” Johnny asked her conversationally.

“I think.” she muttered.

“Ok, put your head back down. Can’t keep holding your cheek.”

“Don’t have to,” she protested even as she lay back down, face on fire by the lack of incline, “the hell is wrong with it?” she groaned.

“The doc says your cheekbone’s broken.” Egan supplied.

A flash of a table rising up too fast and her cheek slammed down against it, of a hand in her hair and a man, one of many strong and large men, pressing down on her head over and over, the pressure on her face too strong and finally making way with a sickening give just like other places had given way when they— Ida felt like retching again but for Johnny’s sake she was glad nothing more came up, although his hand was back to holding her cheek together.

“The recommendation was not to exert the facial muscles.” Johnny snarked.

Ida willed her mind away, “Noted.” and began to wonder at how this camp worked, “What sorta doctor?” it seemed odd no one had hauled her off for two whole weeks, not to a grave and not to surgery. Maybe not that odd, Egan had been in her bunk. And Cleven would have never let them. But she’d have never allowed so many things and yet -they happened all the same.

“There’s that med student pilot from the 418th,” Egan told her, “everyone calls him doc around here since we haven’t got any medics. Shitty oversight in the air, fatal on the ground. It’s him or camp doctor, and we didn’t want him gettin’ curious over you.”

“Major Cleven wouldn’t let them take you.” Johnny told her what she already suspected and Ida felt like smiling despite the way it hurt her cheek.

“Everyone’s really alright?” she asked once more.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine.” her bother swore, “Except for you, you’re our biggest worry.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t use that tone with me.”

“Then don’t lie.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Alright, but you’re not currently fine.”

“You and your distinctions.”

“You and the pants you’ve worn for two weeks.”

Ida gaped, knowing and loving his sharp tongue but having missed it all the same, “Well that’s -that’s low, Jack.”

“I’ll get Smith in.” he decided after sharing a look with Bucky over her shoulder, she wished she could see Egan’s face, something made her suspect foul play beyond boredom for him to be in her bunk. “You haven’t stopped -bleeding.” he winced, wether in sympathy or in discomfort over the topic, she could only guess it was both.

“Well get me up, sit me up.” she asked first, her curiosity regarding her own damage growing and she didn’t need dear Tallulah to see her freshly puked and still lying like a corpse. She could sit up if she was going to remain conscious. “It’ll make the cheek feel better.” She cajoled her brother in the most effective manner -logic- and so he assisted her to sit up against the slats.

“Bucket.” she warned again because her vision was spotting and her stomach rose at the painful change in position but it felt good to be up, and Johnny handed her an actual bucket to dry heave over. The irony was not lost on her.

When the feeling passed she found she was looking down at Egan, that he hadn’t moved with her and he still lay on his side, garish green bruise around his eye and a grimacing smile stretching that still pristine mustache. Well, it needed some trimming at the corners, her fingers itched to straighten them. “Ribs are a little cracked.” he offered in explanation before she could ask.

“Yeah he’s not supposed to move much.” Her Johnny expounded and Ida didn’t doubt this was a source of much argument between them, she could tell by the familiar, bitchy tone and the look Johnny gave his superior, one just short of wry enough to get him court martialed. Ida realized with sudden sobriety that she would be stuck in close proximity with this duo for the foreseeable future.

Mother Mary give her grace.

“Where do you pee?” she asked, it was a decent segue and it was also a pressing issue, mounting over even the horrible ache down there.

“Uh,” Johnny floundered for a minute, “pretty loose around here but -there are latrines.” Ida could picture the sheer amount of pissing against stumps and combines that likely occurred here instead, “You’re not walking there, not today. We’ve got buckets, girls use those mainly.”

Ida stared at the bucket clutched in her arms, still there in case of another upset. Right, alright. Buckets.

“Brady, get Smith.” Egan directed helpfully and her brother roused himself and went out into the hall.

Ida waited until the sound of his footfalls faded thoroughly before bringing her hand down to rest on Bucky’s shining forehead, he felt feverish, or maybe it was only oily. “How is he?” she asked. “Really, Bucky, how is he handling it all?”

“He’s a champ.” Bucky replied levelly, before giving her a gentle look, “A champ who’s cried a few times. I’ve been giving him too much trouble to ask him what he thinks about having a battered sister, if that’s what you mean. But he’s ok, you know him. He’s okey.”

“Alright.” she muttered, staring down at her lap, noticing the stains she’d made on his trousers. Poor Jack, she didn’t know how she could bear it if it were the other way around.

Bucky waited a beat before adding softly, “He asked me what to tell your parents.”

That startled her, the idea of letters, of news, of more than anyone here knowing, “What did you-?”

“I told him to tell them you’re alive.” he answered and she took a great breath, “And that you two were together. The facts of the matter.”

Well that was another kindness. “Thanks.” she managed.

“Hey, you just worry about gettin’ better.” He charged her, hand nudging gently under her chin, mindful of the bruises.

She gave him a grin despite her cheek protesting, “Back at ya, Egan.”

“Race ya?” he suggested.

“Race to what?”

“To the latrines. Whoever can get fit fastest wins. I’m sick to fuckin’ death of pissing in a can he wants to hold like I’m past ninety and should be put out to pasture -now you’re awake it’s gonna be even funner.”

Ida thought about asking if he’d really been relieving himself in bed beside her, to ask who’d been cleaning her in the meantime, but some familiarity was best left mysterious and the stomping sounds of approaching persons made her pause.

“Great, he brought a crowd.” Bucky muttered without heat and sure enough, Smith came skidding in like Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb, and behind her Johnny, Cleven and Graham.

“Ta-daa.” Ida vocalized weakly, feeling mildly possessed by the spirit of Kendeigh to make a drama of it all -it was only that they looked so ridiculously hopeful and small crowding the doorway like that.

Gale slapped the doorframe and buried his face in the crook of his arm, something like a rough laugh coming out, “I’ll be damned.”

“Well Graham, you’ve seen her breathing, go, come on go, we asked for Smith.” Bucky good naturedly snapped his fingers dismissively.

“Good to see you Graham.” Ida called to her poor Co-Pilot who was fast not to loiter.

Tallulah Smith gently crept up to her bunk and sank to her knees beside her, sweet face still a little mottled but the old pearl white smile in place. Missing a tooth. A jolt of heartache ran through her— “Ida.”

“Hey old thing.” Ida smiled back, or tried.

“God it’s good to see -to see you.” Smith settled for before dropping her face to kiss Ida’s unwashed hands. Poor kid, Ida was sure Cleven was looking after her but he didn’t know the half of it. All these weeks she was needed and Ida had failed her.

“Hey, hey you guys get me up, I’m getting cramp.” Bucky hollered to Brady and Buck.

“You’re not supposed to move Bucky-“

“Johnny -I’m not going on a goddamn journey. I just wanna walk in the hall and piss on the doorframe like everyone else. C’mon get me up.”

Ida and Smith crouched further into the bed to allow Egan to lumber over them with the help of their friends, a painful, grunting business that suggested his leg was busted along with his ribs. He was leaving to give the girls privacy, Ida knew it, and perhaps her brother had picked up on it as he stopped protesting and shouldered his weight uncomplaining.

“See you dolls later.” he saluted as they dragged him out.

It was bizarre to have the room to themselves when the door shut. The door had a window, and that gave Ida the creeps but it couldn’t be helped.

“They aren’t going out, they’ll stand watch.” Smith whispered assuringly as if she could read Ida’s mind. “We’re all in this combine with just one’s from the 100th. Cleven insisted. I don’t know how he gets half of what he gets done but he’s been so good to us.”

Ida stared at her hands intertwined with Lu’s and nodded gently, never doubting that would be the case. She just worried for him, she hoped it meant their guards were fair, or at least the commandant. But she recalled Cleven saying he’d stayed clear of the fellow, kept his head down, not sought attention -until the girls came, now he no doubt made himself familiar. It made her pulse pound in worry for him. She hoped the commander was fair, that was the whole point of getting to a stalag.

“And you?” Ida asked, knowing that of everyone, Smith was perhaps the only one who’d like to be asked.

She watched the girl perk up, brave cheerfulness fluttering across her features, no less genuine for all that it was forced, “I’m ok. It’s easier here but I can’t sleep much, and I’m so scared it’s going to happen again. There’s dogs everywhere.”

Ida winced at that. “Cleven won’t let that happen.” she insisted gently, “You stick with who he puts you with and if they don’t stick with you then you tell him, he’ll get someone else. Really Smith, speak up.”

“Ok.” she muttered, “It’s been Murph or Crank so far, they’re never away.”

“Good.”

“It’s just-“ Smith’s deep brown eyes grew watery and Ida braced, “-what can they do? If the Germans really wanna? What can they actually do about it? I don’t think -oh Ida I don’t think I could take it, the way they did it in front of you -I couldnt take it, not in front of our boys. I’d wanna die this time, I would. I’d wanna die.”

It hurt, the heavy pressure of Smith’s face buried in Ida’s wounded belly, but the poor girl was suddenly sobbing and Ida impulsively ran her fingers through oily black strands, humming gently and ineffectively. What was there to say about that? What could she say to that? “Everyone here would die before watching that, Lu.” was all she could come up with, but it was true as truth could be. “And they can’t shoot up a whole stalag, they can’t,” she went on, it was soothing to hear herself spout such ephimerally comforting bulshit, “so, if they tried, that’s a dead end. Not gonna happen ever again, Smith, it won’t. We won’t let it.”

Smith turned her head, looking not a day older than her eighteen years and smiled back, soft and sad, “Ok.” she accepted, and Ida knew it was more for her benefit than real belief, “I just worry someone is gonna still have to-“ she quieted down in frustration with herself, “-sorry I’m so glum.”

Ida squeezed her hands strongly, “No, no, you’re right. It’s very uneasy, and it will be for as long as we’re on this side of our lines. What were you saying?”

Smith bit her lip thoughtfully before quietly confessing, “I worry someone else may still have to. The guards aren’t as bad but they seem -I’m paranoid, I know. But I also -oh Ida, I shouldn’t say. He said I shouldn’t say but-“ she was back near to crying.

“Telling your senior officer is like telling a priest.” Ida reasoned softly, teasingly, “There is no harm and there is no record.”

“I’m Baptist.” Smith laughed.

“Unburden yourself, my child.” Ida insisted, mouth wry with sad humor. “That’s an order, Lu.”

“It’s Major Cleven.” Smith got right to it, “I’m afraid someone hurt him. The way they hurt us. Before we got here. And I’m worried if that person is here, I’m worried that- I’m worried that it’ll be someone, if not me again, it’ll be someone else.”

“You’re not paranoid.” Ida muttured, cold dread seeping in along with fury, she counted to five before asking as casually as she was capable, “When he told you not to tell, what -what all did he say?”

“Not much, really,” Tallulah admitted with frustration, “it’s just he came to check on me, first night in and we were alone in the hall and I told him a little, since he asked, he’s always so kind and he was kind then. But he told me he understood, and then right away it was like he regretted it. Saying that, you know? And I asked him, if they’d hurt him like that and -h-he was so shaken by it, and he told me I shouldn’t ever talk like that. He didn’t said no, he just kept saying I couldn’t say that. About him.”

Ida felt her stomach plummet and she clutched at the bucket as if there was anything left to puke up.

“Ida I’m sorry- I should've waited.” Tallulah fretted at her agitation.

“No!” Ida’s voice came stronger than even she expected, “No you’re right to tell me. I’m his officer too, you know. You’re right to tell me.” she repeated before trying to straighten herself, make Smith look her in the eyes, “And now, Lieutenant, I need you to let this go, alright? Really, you’ve done the right thing now, give it over, let it go. He might not have meant that, might’ve meant anything, really. Try not to dwell on it. Any of it, if you can.”

Smith rubbed her hand beneath her nose gruffly while murmuring a “yessir.” She was back to smiling when the hand descended. “Now, what can I help with?” she asked, cheered at the chance of lending aid.

“I need to pee.”

“Oh gosh, sorry-“ Smith laughed at herself and her poor timing for a confession.

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Ida joined in, “This is going to hurt like hell, I do believe.”

Smith winced in sympathy, “Yeah, still hurts for me.”

“No, truly?” Ida mourned through gritted teeth, depending on Smith’s arms to scootch to the edge of the threadbare mattress.

“Yeah. A little better after a week but not, it’s just -it’s stayed since. You’re still bleeding, though.”

Ida stared down at her bloodied crotch. “Yes.” she hissed, “I’d like to -take a look. Any mirror: in here?”

“No sir. Sorry.”

“Anyone else bleeding like this?”

“No one besides Kendeigh, got her period.” Smiths cheeks turned pink at the mention of normality.

“Ah, small mercies.”

“Yes. Try telling her that, sir.”

“Have you gotten yours, Lu?”

“No sir.” Pinker still under that dusky brown.

“Mm.”

“I could check?”

“What?”

“I could be your mirror.” Smith clarified, sheepishly as she got Ida up, arm around her neck, her officer about crumpling at the pain of standing.

Ida grimaced again at the mere notion. “Bit above your pay grade.”

“I’m a lieutenant.” Smith shook her head proudly before adding, “Besides -nothing I haven’t seen on the farm.”

“Oh thanks a lot.”

“I didn’t mean-“

“Joking, Smith, I’m joking.”

“Oh. Ha.”

“I’d not be so concerned,” Ida went on, shuffling towards the bucket in the corner of the room where it sat between two bunks, “if I didn’t suspect a little -tearing.” she muttered, humiliation burning her cheek and adding to the throb. “There was a, uh-“ god, she shouldn’t tell a subordinate this but they hadn’t any mirrors, “there was a knife. And, I-i- think they, it wasn’t the blade but the handle and it -still it felt like…Well, everything got even worse after that.”

“Oh Ida.” Smith whimpered in compassion.

“Oh stop it, you of all people don’t need to feel bad for me.” Ida squeezed her shoulder, the one supporting her weight. “It’s just I really don’t know what to expect. What’s normal. Yes? To bleed is normal, we always hear that but. How long, how much, you know? My brother seems to think it’s too much. How would he know?” she snickered briefly before ceasing at the sight of Smith’s solemn face. Ida was reminded of when she’d first met her as a little recruit, keen eyed and perceptive in training, Tallulah Smith had been so freshly out of the nest she’d delightedly blown up her standard issued rubbers and tossed them around their hut, charmed by the army’s thoughtfulness to provide balloons along with toothbrushes. Not even the worst of the cads had said a thing to dissuade her and Benny DeMarco had followed suit, even going so far as to lie that he’d been additionally given bubbles since he was more senior.

When the day came that Bucky had pinned Smith her single bar on her jacket, he handed her a tube of bubbles, too.

Five weeks before it all went to hell.

Now Smith wore a shy little look, one Ida remembered well from when she’d had to break it to the girl what the damn balloons were really for. Today, if it were anyone else, Ida would have ignored that look.

“What do you want to ask?” She called her out.

“Can I?”

“Yes.”

Smith helped her fumble with her belt buckle, trousers loose and low on her waist, not even Johnny’s trim figure a match for the weight Ida had lost in her convalescence. “Was this-“ Ida could only see Smith’s eyebrows and the beautiful flat bridge of her proud nose, “-was this your first, too?”

Ida had never once felt shame, inadequacy, anything other than a natural state over her own purity. It was a conscious decision and a matter of habit, she might have disposed of her virginity had she wished but she never had, never saw fit, never felt the lack of knowing. There were handsome men, and if they were worth the loss of her convictions, her standing and self respect, she might have enjoyed hopping on them as her baser first instincts suggested. As is, she had not, and life had felt perfectly fine and full without that knowledge. One day, she had told herself, maybe one day there’d be someone right and worthy and fitting. Suddenly it felt so very embarrassing to have known nothing more than this, to pretend authority and yet not even know this intimate response of her own body. She could still hear the disbelieving glee of the guards at the same realization.

A female colonel. Who was a virgin. What a lark.

Yet if it served to comfort Smith? Provide some solidarity not even Maureen’s brazen bravery could supply? Ida meant to give it her. “Yes, my first. I’ve never done anything of the sort before.” it served to be plain, to be thorough.

She was rewarded with the lifting of Lu’s face, mournful shyness fading into relief before compassion flickered again. “How do you want me to look?”

Ida ended up propping a foot up on an adjacent bunk, slacks around her ankles, face buried in her elbow as Smith crouched with veterinary efficiency and peeled her apart down there. Ida stifled an involuntary whimper into her fist, not so much from pain as the jolting feeling of that area being touched again.

“I honestly can’t tell much.” Smith sighed, standing up again and it took Ida a good long minute to regain enough composure to pull her face out of her elbow and meet her eyes. Smith wasn’t looking at her anyway, “It’s bloody. But not a lot. I can’t tell about tearing, not on the outside at least.”

“Alright.”

“Here, let me help you squat.” Smith was at the ready with strong arms for Ida to squat over the bucket and do her business, as best she could between sobs at the pain of urinating with some much adjacent damage.

“Are Kendeigh’s hands alright?” Ida thought to ask once Smith had helped pull her up. Piss and blood swirled at the bottom of the metal pail, it turned Ida’s stomach, a foreign queasiness having seemingly settled over her.

“I had to set a few fingers,” Smith replied, “Hammy helped me. But the swelling is going down.”

“Good.” Ida muttured, redoing her belt with Lu’s help, “Now,” she stalled the girl, “how’s the bite mark?”

Smith’s bronze face flushed darker. No doubt she hoped Ida had forgotten, no such luck -Ida expected to replay that scene a million times in her nightmares for the rest of her life.

“Your brother got us penicillin.” Lu rushed to assure her.

“Did he?”

“Yes!”

“How nice. Shots?”

“Yes.” Smith smiled brilliantly, “The boys they’ve -they’ve been so wonderful.”

“Excellent.” Ida agreed.

“Major Cleven said we could-“ Smith’s eyes fluttered aside, “-could get sick from the guards. I didn’t know but -he said the shots would help.”

Ida clasped her arm soothingly, squeezing it until the girl’s eyes came back to life, “He’s right. Good to take precautions. What've they said about the bite?

No answer came. Of course the girl hadn’t even told them. Ida could curse herself for falling asleep so long on the job.

“How’s the bite, Lu?” she insisted on being answered.

Smith sighed, defeated, “It’s -a little festered.”

“How much is a little?” Ida quirked a brow. “C’mon, show me.”

Lu begrudgingly undid her buttons and pulled the placard aside, showing the deep imprint of a canine bite to her breast. Partly healed but angry and hot to touch, Ida suspected it strongly. At least it didn’t smell. “Have you been seen for this?” she asked once more.

Smith shook her head. “They say the doctor is not good.”

“How’d Jack get penicillin then?”

“Well -I don’t know. But he told me never to go.”

Ida resigned herself to feeling perpetually on the verge of emptying her guts in this place. “You either need more or some sulfer, I’d say, but then, I’m no doctor.”

“The boys have been wonderful!” Lu reaffirmed as if that changed anything while refastening her shirt. Ida shuffled back to the bed and sat herself down too fast, wanting to let rip a scream at the pain. “Gale looks after us and Jack gets the medicines and Bucky has been so watchful even from bed and Crank and Murph -I told you how they’ve been so good to me.”

Ida summoned a smile for the girl. The things she was concerned about were an officer's concerns, it was right for Smith to be soothed by stuff like this, it was right she be taken good care of. Whatever it cost the men, whatever it cost her brother. She forced her smile to stay in place. “Good.” Ida confirmed assuringly, “I’m glad to hear it. As they should be. You know that, don’t you? They should be good to you, and it’s not too much to expect that they should.” she let that sink in a minute before adding her point, “Some men aren't, and that’s why we're here in the first place. -And, personally, I like to think about how many of those scumbags we’ve turned to crisps, you and I. Job well done, mm?”

Smith grinned back, “Yes sir, job well done.”

“Mm, alright, now you go get Gale Cleven for me.”

“Sir.” Lu seemed torn, half alarmed.

“I’m not going to broach that topic, I need medicines.” Ida gave her a warning look, too much questioning on her sick bed and she’d turn into nothing more impressive than a half starved woman with no rank.

“Yes sir. I’ll get him sir.”

“And when you’ve fetched him,” Ida went on, “Go make certain Bucky is off his ribs. No baseball, no big movements, not even to retell a story. Got it?”

“I got it.”

“Alright, off you go. And Smith,” she added when the girl was near the door, “thank you, for the care. And speak up, alright? When you need something, speak up.”

Smith ducked her head sheepishly, nodding in obedience, “Sir.”

It would seem Ida needed a word with Gale Cleven regarding tough little lieutenants with a tendency for sepsis.

A solitary set of footsteps broke the eerie silence left after Smith's departure. Ida took stock of the room as best she could, who seemed to be bunking with them, what clutter was on the shelves, that the dishes were indeed stacked as she imagined on waking. She heard the rap of his knuckles on the door frame before the lanky line of him sauntered in, hand on the overhead plank, just looking at her pleased and a little mischievous. Gosh he was a sight for sore eyes and a heart aching one all at once. Where he’d once been golden and blooming, he was as gray as his shirt. How would they fare in winter if they started autumn so sallow?

“Major Gale Cleven, reporting for duty.” he teased, somber gray eyes lit up boyishly like they did when he wanted to be taken at the jokes’ value.

Ida grinned back at him as best she could with her broken cheek, “Bucky not follow you?”

“Nah,” Cleven came in, picking a chair up by its slatted back and bringing it to her bedside, straddled it, “he heard I was called for. He’s plagued you enough.” Nothing dimmed that fond smile despite the exasperated words.

“Cannot believe he took over my bunk.” Ida observed.

Gale’s smile fell. “Really didn’t know if you were gonna make it, Ida.” he insisted gently, firmly. “Are ya now?”

Ida wanted to chuckle, feeling more horrible than she knew she could but after all this time she wasn’t going to die on him now. Not now she knew how needed she was. Remained needed. How much he’d endured, possibly, she had to remember it was only possible. “I’m sticking around.” she affirmed, and his smile came back, dimmer but still there. “And you?” she asked, not expecting the truth but she had to try.

The upbeat grin that painted his face was worthy of an Oscar. “Fine. Much better to see you alive, John too. Both of you been out for ages.”

“Sorry about that.” she feared more and more what burdens he had to bear alone, and what precedent that set for the remainder of their time here. Once Gale Cleven had shouldered a responsibility, he wasn’t one to delegate, even if overtaxed. “How is the commandant? Smith has told me what you’ve achieved.”

Cleven’s face wore an expression of pleasant surprise as if he were relaying pleasant findings for the first time, “Most decent German I’ve met.” His tone held such genuine relief that Ida had to believe him. “Supplies are scarce. They've shot enough of us down in short enough order it’s all a bit much for the Red Cross.” he let that dismal statistic hang for a brief moment before rallying, “But he’s fair, shares my low opinion of his subordinates. No real incidents but, they leer and they’re harsh. No girls can go out alone, I’ve laid the order down. Been no harm.”

Ida observed him, familiar chubby cheeked crinkling with what seemed genuine pleasantness, and she had gotten rather genius at deciphering that boyish face after years of training and laconic friendship. “What does he want in return?” she asked.

“Order.” Gale had an answer right away, “He’s got a massive thing going here, he wants order and he wants no complaints about females. So, I want the girls accompanied -he wants them accompanied. It works.”

Maybe there was honor among villains after all. “Good. How’s Maureen?”

Gale bit his lip before shrugging, “Alright, settling in, getting everyone else settled. We got shots for everyone and she’s had us cleaning the place, fussing about wintertime and how all the water to mop will freeze up then. Hands aren’t back fully.” he paused for a brief moment before glancing up, shyly, “You got any explanation for those?”

No more than he had given for his cuts. “She’s told you. As much as she’s told me. I don’t think anyone hasn’t got a story. Or ten.”

“Bucky’s having trouble with that.” It was a comment, not a warning or a complaint.

She might’ve guessed. “And my brother? He proving of any use?”

Gale’s pale skin seemed to color at that and his eyes skittered to the side, briefly, before he recalled himself, “He’s a damn bulldog with a task. Been -been real essential.”

“With the doctor I hear.” Ida ventured, “Smith told me.” and Gale nodded in understanding, “She also told me she’d been warned never to go herself. Which brings up a few issues.”

“Colonel?” Gale frowned at her like something she said was puzzling.

“I’ve got girls who need to see a doctor. Should be in the infirmary -hell I oughta be.”

Cleven just shook his head, “They tolerate the girls here, so long as you’re not anything more than a number. Ida, we can’t attract attention that way. We got shots, Johnny’ll get more. He’ll get -Anything.”

“And how’s Johnny gonna get ‘anything’ for me, mm?”

Cleven didn’t have an answer for that, he just looked terribly tired. “Tell us, we’ll get it but I can’t condone lettin’ a woman go there.”

Ida tried to settle her stomach, a laundry list of worries a mile long had begun to arrange themselves in her mind and by the size of Cleven’s eyebags, he carried them too. She had to prioritize, if only she wasn’t so very tired and practically an invalid. “Then I need your promise to be tenacious in the care of someone who ought’ve been in hospital weeks ago.”

He cocked his head to the side, alarm at the unknown flitting across his face, he looked her up and down as if anticipating she would name herself.

“Smith has what looks like a raging infection.” Ida stated.

Well that got him startled, confused and a little irate. His blue eyes widened, “Looks like.” he repeated. “-where? From what?”

“And she’s not told a soul.” Ida observed with an eyebrow that only slightly accused, it was lethal enough on Gale’s frail morale, “As she’s a stubborn thing and also -shy.”

Gale knew Lu to be both. He had taken pains to ask after her the night she came in with that express suspicion in mind. “I asked her.” He swore.

“She says she asked you the same.” Ida bounced the hypothetical tennis ball right back, quite casually she thought, and Gale gave her a wary, unreadable look. There went that topic for the present, Smith had to come first. “No, this is a dog bite. More like a maul, a gash, it’s horrid.”

“What?” The chair under Gale creaked from his irate posture. “They let loose a dog on her!”

“Set.” Ida corrected, straight mouth going even sourer, “They set a dog on her. Now it’s hot and pink and awful. Since she didn’t tell a soul and no one noticed somehow.”

“I-I-“ Gale wasn’t in a fluster to defend himself, Ida knew him better than to think that, he was merely in some disbelief at the cruelty, “I- gave her a shot, in the hip. Didn’t see-“

“It’s her breast, Gale.” Ida gently interjected, “Reasonable not for her to be eager to show. But it must’ve been stubborn pride or some assumption of a better lot that had her keeping it from Maureen.”

Gale took to pinching the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick Ida knew well, and it served to steady his hand, pinch away a budding migraine and hide the tell-tale windows of his eyes. “They set a dog on her -on her, to- and it tore her?” he couldn’t even get it out and she felt for him.

But he had the right of it. “Yes. And it needs something. Sulfer ointment? I don’t know. It’s why a doctor would be preferred. It could get septic-“

“I know damnit!” Gale still shaded eyes from her as his voice shook. “Why didn’t she-“ it trailed off, weary and rough.

Ida pursed her lips and swallowed back a dozen things she wanted to say: apologies and reassurances, demands that he tell her what he himself had endured. “I’m sorry you’ve got so much to be done.” she offered instead, mildly and with some gentleness she hoped she’d retained. “I’m sure Kendeigh will be a great help with this. I only ask you keep after Smith about it-“

“-I don’t mind the work.” Gale lifted his hand at last and his eyes were red rimmed, “You know I don’t mind the work.”

“No.” she agreed. It was only the sort of work. It was the hapless, thankless, hopeless work of piecing together friends who had been intentionally smashed to bits by a handful of demons. It was never about the work. “And you are to bring as much of it to me as you can. That’s an order, Major.” At least that got her a small smile, a conceding nod, “And I have my spies, you know.”

“Oh I know.”

“I can’t wait to be about. Help with it all.”

“Just try’n live Ida, if you can.” Gale laughed, short and clipped, “Seemed a lot to ask of ya just last night. Don’t wanna push my luck.”

“I’ve ordered you to push your luck.” she reminded. “And now, don’t you think it’s time we stop Bucky from thinking of things to keep everyone outside?”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#HAPPY SUNDAY BABIES #if this ain’t the taglist you signed up for ignore sorry -only got one #those who can #mota fanfic #mota #masters of the air #gale Cleven fanfic #bucky egan fanfiction #gale cleven #tallulah smith #john egan fanfiction #mota oc

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marvelobsessed134 · 6 months ago

Note

Can you do a cute Peter Steele one where the reader has a daughter and she meets him for the first time and gets scared

Gentle giant

A/n: This was so cute and wholesome ahhh I love it

Parings: Peter Steele x Fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of teen pregnancy, shitty ex, and I think that’s it.

You and Peter have been dating for a couple months and you were at first nervous to tell him you had a daughter. At 16 years old your ex boyfriend got you pregnant and walked out on you and your unborn baby. Originally you were going to give her up for adoption but when you held her in your arms, you fell in love and just had to keep her. Even though it was hard being a teen mom, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Rosie is only 5 years old but she is very bright and creative, you told Peter one night. And instead of being turned off, he actually was more interested in you and was eager to meet her. So that’s what you’re doing today.

The two of you decided to meet at a cafe in Brooklyn close to where your apartments are. You walked with your little girl hand in hand to the cafe. “Where are we going mommy?” She asked.

“We’re going to meet a special friend of mine. He’s very kind.” You explained. Obviously she wouldn’t understand what dating is so you just kept it simple. To her, Peter is your special friend.

Once you walked into the cafe the smell off coffee beans filled your sinuses as you searched the room for Peter. Your mouth grew into a smile as you spotted him sitting at a table in a corner away from everyone. You walked up to him and he looked up at you and smiled.

Once the raven haired man stood up, though was when Rosie got a little nervous and hid behind your legs. Once you had given your boyfriend a kiss, he turned his attention to your little girl.

“Rosie, this is Peter.” You introduced.

She hid behind your legs, not making eye contact with him. Peter noticed this but was not offended. He’s a big guy, and can come off as intimidating especially to a young child. And right before you were going to apologize to him, he knelt down.

Your daughter peaked from behind your legs as she saw the now shorter man looking at her with kind eyes. “Hey, Rosie right?” The bassist asked.

She nodded shyly.

“As your mother said, I’m Peter. It’s nice to meet you I’ve heard so much about you.” She was still silent but slowly seemed to let her guard down. “She told me that you’re an artist?” Rosie smiled a bit at that, “I play drums.” Shes proud of her drum playing skills. You bought her a toy drum set for Christmas last year and she’s been using it every day.

“Wow! That’s really cool. I have a friend who plays drums his name is Johnny he’s pretty cool he can teach you a few tricks.” Your heart melted at how gentle he was being, how soft he was speaking. Of course Peter has always been gentle-a gentle giant if you will-but seeing this right now, makes your heart leap for joy.

He held out his large hand and she slowly stuck out her small one, putting it on his palm. The size difference was so adorable, and he gently closed his hand around hers. “Now, what do you say about a cake pop?”

#peter steele x reader #peter steele #type o negative x reader #type o negative #fluff #cute

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storiesforallfandoms · 6 months ago

Text

just for us ~ johnny depp

word count: 1790

request?: yes!

“Hii can you please write a Johnny Depp imagine where its the 90s, you are both famous, and the press keeps beging you expose your relationship?”

description: being famous at such a young age makes it hard to keep anything a secret, but you’re determined to make sure your relationship is just for the two of you and not for the media

pairing: young!johnny depp x female!reader

warnings: swearing, use of y/n, rpf

masterlist (one, two, three)

I started acting when I was five years old. It was a commercial, and I had all of 30 seconds of screen time. But that 30 seconds was enough to impress the director apparently, because two years later when he was hired to direct some new sitcom, he called my parents looking to cast me as one of the main kids. The show only lasted one season, but one season was all it took to kickstart my career.

Becoming an actor at such a young age meant losing a “normal” life. I never went to normal school, normal prom or graduation. I never really had normal friends, just co-stars and other child actors. And I never had any privacy. Once I became a household name, privacy went completely out the window as I was followed by paparazzi and fans daily. Not to mention the creeps who came out in droves when I turned 18.

Nothing in my life was private. Nothing except Johnny.

We met on set of a movie we were working on together, and I knew from the moment I laid eyes on him that I was going to fall for him. I tried not to. Dating as a celebrity was basically impossible, even more so when it was with another celebrity. But i couldn’t stop myself, and when he told me he had fallen for me too, I was a goner.

Being a fellow actor, Johnny knew exactly how to keep our relationship a secret. He knew which restaurants had the most hidden away seating, which ones had the most private parking so we could actually show up and leave together. He knew how to sneak in and out of my place without paparazzi noticing, and how to do the same with me at his place.

It worked for a long time. Like, two years at least. No one had any idea we were together. Until a fan spotted us out together. They didn’t see us acting like a couple, but apparently us hanging out together years after our movie had come out was suspicious enough to get the rumor mill going. Suddenly, every interview we did had us asked at least once about our relationship. But we never broke. We kept insisting we were just friends, and we kept our relationship a secret.

It was early in the morning when my alarm clock started to blare. I groaned as I rolled over to turn it off. The bright red numbers read “7:00am”. I groaned again, sleep fighting to take me again.

I smiled as Johnny wrapped me in his warm embrace and kissed my neck. “Why are we awake so early?”

“I have a morning interview at 9,” I told him. “I gotta get up and get ready.”

He squeezed me a little tighter. “Absolutely not.”

“I have no choice, J. I can’t cancel so close to the interview.”

“Just don’t show up. Problem solved.”

I turned in his arms to face him. His eyes were still drooping with fatigue, but he was trying his best to focus on me. I smiled at him and kissed his nose.

“You can stay here and sleep,” I told him. “I’ll be back by the time you wake up.”

“You better be,” he sleepily muttered.

I chuckled and finally wiggled free from his grasp.

Getting ready for interviews never took long. I didn’t have to do my makeup because the studio makeup artist would do it for me when I got there, and an outfit was chosen for me by my stylist prior to the day. All I had to do was get breakfast, clean myself up, and get dressed in my pre-chosen outfit. I was brushing my teeth when I heard a car horn honking outside, signaling that my ride to the interview had arrived.

I took one last peak into my bedroom. Johnny was sound asleep again. I smiled and quietly moved to my bed. I placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before rushing out the door as the car honked again.

I was rushed through the makeup and placed in an uncomfortable chair within 20 minutes. I tried not to shift too much in an attempt to find a comfortable position. Morning talk shows always had the worst chairs for some reason.

The host walked onto set and greeted me cheerily. I smiled back at her, wishing I had her chipper energy for so early in the morning.

I wonder how many cups of coffee she’s had.

She sat down across from me and we were given the five minute warning. I adjusted myself in my seat one last time, then smiled as the cameraman announced we were live.

“Good morning everyone, and welcome to our special guest, (Y/N),” the host said, gesturing to me. The crowd cheered as I smiled and waved to them. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for having me. I’m so excited to be here!”

The host asked me about my new movie, and I went over the talking points I had been given for every interview. It was going as smoothly as most interviews did, until the host said, “I have to ask, is there anyone special in your life?”

I kept the smile on my face, but I was sure it looked much more strained now. “Nope. I’m absolutely single pringle.”

“Really? There’s not even anything going on with you and Johnny Depp?”

I glanced over at my manager, who looked about ready to shut the whole interview down. Most celebrities have a few off limits questions that interviewers are told they can’t ask about. It’s usually super personal and private stuff that they want to keep private. For me, the one topic that was off limits was Johnny. It wasn’t just because we wanted to keep our relationship a secret, but it was also because my management and I didn’t want all my interviews to suddenly be just about Johnny and not about my work.

It was clear from the look on my manager’s face that this host was told my limitations, and she was choosing to ignore them. This was her attempt at getting a huge scoop before anyone else so that she could boost the ratings of her show.

I knew I couldn’t just stop the interview. It was a live show, stopping would just cause a scene that I knew would do more harm than good. So, I took a very subtle deep breath and said, “Johnny has been my friend since we worked together years ago. There’s nothing more between us besides friendship.”

“Oh, come on. I know you’re aware of the rumors about you two. Everyone is dying for you to finally confirm that you’re together.”

“Well, everyone will just have to keep waiting because I am not confirming what’s not true. Also, I think it’s incredibly disrespectful and invasive to keep pushing this topic when Johnny and I have both said we aren’t dating and like to have our privacy. I don’t get many things that are just for me, but I want my relationship to be one of those things.”

My manager whispered something to the cameraman, who then signaled for the show to go to commercial. Once the cameras were off, my manager demanded for me to be un-miced so we could leave. I ignored the host’s apologies as the crew took off my mic and my manager beckoned for me to come with her.

As we left the studio, she nudged my shoulder and said, “You handled that amazingly, kid.”

I had no other obligations for the day, so my driver took me back home. I was happy to be back in the comfort of my own home after that interview.

The smell of food greeted me at the door. I smiled at myself as I made my way to the kitchen. As I expected, Johnny was stood at the stove, cooking up some breakfast. He was still in his pajama pants with no shirt on. I came up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. He leaned into my touch, allowing me to place a kiss on his bare shoulder.

“You’re back early,” he said.

“The interview was cut short,” I responded.

“So I heard.” I looked up at him in confusion. “I woke up just in time to turn on the interview.”

I groaned. “So you saw the whole thing?” He nodded. I buried my head in his shoulder. “We told her not to ask, I swear.”

He moved in my arms, turning so he could face me. He wrapped his arms around me, too, as I moved mine around his neck instead.

“I think you handled that whole situation very well,” he said. “It was pretty clear you were caught off guard by the question, but you still handled it maturely and with more respect than I think she deserved.”

“I wasn’t going to cause a scene over it, even though I really wanted to just walk out if she had asked.”

“Would’ve made for better television if you had just stormed out.”

“You’re right. It’s probably best that I didn’t then.”

He chuckled and leaned down to kiss me. Any tension I had left from that day immediately melted the moment his lips touched mine.

“We’ll have to tell people eventually,” I said with a sigh, resting my head against his. “We can’t keep this a secret forever.”

“We’ve done so for two years.”

“Yeah, but we’ve already gotten caught once. There’s just no proof of us actually being together for the tabloids to run with. But if we slipped up once, it can happen again. Then we’ll have to tell people about us.” I sighed and added, mainly to myself, “We’ll ever get a moment of peace again.”

“It’ll happen eventually, but until then I’m happy to have our private moments,” Johnny said. He kissed the top of my head and added, “But the day I get to loudly say you’re mine will be a good day for me. I want everyone to know eventually that I have the most amazing woman as my girlfriend.”

“You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Good.”

He kissed me again, but pulled away quicker than I wanted. I tried to pull him back in, but he just shook his head and smiled. “I don’t want the food to burn. The last thing we need is everyone finding out we’re dating because I burned your house down.”

I chuckled. “Okay, you have a point.”

“Are you hungry? I made enough for the two of us.”

I nuzzled close to him as he turned back to the stove. “I’ll never say no to your cooking.”

#johnny depp #johnny depp imagine #johnny depp x reader #young!johnny depp #imagine #one shot #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #rpf

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siriusleee · 1 year ago

Text

shot through with gold

“I smashed the whole house to bits,” Johnny keeps going, turning to put the milk in the refrigerator. “Had to get Simon over here to help me put it back together. It was his idea by the way. To get the mug fixed. He said you’d be mad if it was gone when you came home.”

tags: coming back home, implied torture, capture, smut, riding, reader is afab, mentions of medical procedures, mentions of blood word count: 7.7k author's note: This was a commission by the best and brightest @gazs-blue-hat. If you'd like to commission a fic, visit my ko-fi for more information. Also, I refuse to disgrace the good country of Scotland by attempting to do the full Scottish accent. Readers call sign is Sparrow, but it's only used once.

The room is heavy with dust; small puffs cloud around Johnny’s boots as he pads across the plush carpet. The summer’s oppressive heat makes the walls sweat - you’d be worrying about the mold forming in the drywall if you could see it. But Johnny doesn’t think of the way his handprints smudge on the paint you spent weeks agonizing over or the way your perfume lingers in the still air even after all this time.

His singular mission - to grab a few shirts he needs and leave - is the only thought he allows himself to think about, hands combing through the dressers and eyes trained downward, away from all the pictures hanging on the wall. He avoids your side of the dresser, avoids the lace that still peaks out from your top drawer.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, Johnny ignores it as he pulls the shirts he came to look for out of the dresser drawer, tucking them beneath his arm. He follows his tracks in the dust back out, eyes cast down at the carpet. The whole trip takes less than 10 minutes; he doesn’t let himself look up until he’s slamming the passenger door of Simon’s truck shut behind him.

“Got everything?” Simon asks, shifting the truck into drive.

Johnny sits ramrod straight in the seat, eyes avoiding Simon’s as he buckles in.

“Yeah, got everything.”

Your fingers trace over the marks you’d carved into the soft stone wall. You’d tried to keep a tally mark of days, but time slipped by in odd increments within your cell. Some days you’d watch the sunrise from the cracks in the ceiling and after just a blink, the inky blackness of night would be seeping in. Sometimes the sun hung in the sky for months before finally falling to the full moon. No matter how hard you tried to decode the pattern, the moment you had it everything would reset.

The guards were in on it; they had to be. They’d bring your meals at odd times - sometimes you’d still be full from the moldy slop they shoved in between the cell bars, spilling it out onto the floor like you’re an animal in a cage, and sometimes you’d be so hungry that you could barely crawl to eat.

It was supposed to be someone else - you were pulled for guard duty after another soldier slogged off and broke his foot doing something stupid while training. You’d finally been pulled to work with Johnny, three days away from being a full transfer to the 141 when your C.O. had appeared at the door of your bunk, new orders in hand.

A simple guard duty: get the guy to where he was supposed to be going, hand him off, and fly home. Your transfer could wait an extra forty-eight hours. But your plane was shot down somewhere over the middle of nowhere - you had told your C.O. that flying that low was a risk, but the desert was empty and the plane was old. They’d been making the flight for weeks, ferrying men back and forth with no hiccups. Your flight should have been no different.

It should have been someone else.

You couldn’t remember what had hit your small passenger plane: but the ground was David, and you were Goliath. You’d hit the ground beside the pilot’s head, his mouth formed in a soundless scream, and after a quick flash of black, had woken up to a bucket of water being poured across your face.

Whatever language your captives screamed at you, you didn’t know it. And if they knew any of the ones you screamed back at them: Spanish, Arabic, German, they didn’t let you in on it. You couldn’t figure out what they wanted until they’d ripped the Union Flag from the breast of your vest, a quick picture on a Polaroid camera snapped above you before you realized what they wanted.

Blood dribbled down your chin when you laughed at them: the government didn’t even pay for soldiers who got captured at war. What would they pay for your half-broken body to get shipped back in a wooden box? A simple mistake that could be written off as a plane malfunction.

The anger had come first, feet and fists slamming into the men when they appeared at the cell doors. Nails ripped from their beds when you tried to claw at the seams in the walls. It had cost you a few teeth and a pound of flesh. And then, when you were tired of the endless beatings and anger that went nowhere, you begged them to kill you, to do something to end the torment. By the marks on the wall, it took months before you first asked to be killed, and only weeks later for that to end, each request met with silence and a sneer. Now you lay in the corner, waiting for the few moments when they’d let you out to see the sun glinting off of the mountain ranges, the clouds threatening to storm in the distance.

Those quick trips seemed to come with less frequency as time slipped by.

You trace the tattoo on your thigh; they’d cut through it once after you kicked one of them in the chest, his ribs caving beneath your feet, but even beneath the dried viscera and matted dirt that covered your skin, you could still see Johnny’s name there.

You wonder if he’s picked a gravestone for you yet.

The two of you had talked about it, once. It was the nature of your jobs - to be prepared for everything that could come your way. Your wills were done: 75% to Johnny, 15% to your sister’s kids, and the rest to a local charity. Johnny wrote in that you were to get 100% of everything he owned, and you had chided him about it.

“What about your mom? Your sisters?” You had asked across the steam from your cup of coffee. Johnny had shrugged, dropping the black pen onto the table with finality.

“Already taken care of, birdie.”

After that had come the talk of headstones and burial plots. Of missing bodies and cremation. You had told Johnny that whatever he thought you’d like, to pick out. You weren’t picky about it.

You wonder if the military let him put his last name on the stone.

A decidedly male voice shouts from around the corner, and you pull back into the stone wall. Seconds later, fetid food falls through the bars. The man shouts at you, pointing at the food on the ground. Lazily, you turn your head towards him, watching the way he sneers at you through the bars.

They must be getting angry then. No ransom came through after all these months.

You bare your teeth at him.

You’d rip his throat out if you had the strength to do so anymore.

Johnny’s fingers don’t shake like they used to when he buckles the strap of his helmet, the night vision goggles weighing him down. He’s tired - exhausted. The entire convey smells of cigarettes and sweat. Heavy men in heavy gear press around him; across from him Gaz’s eyes shine terribly bright in the darkness. They press in on Johnny, forcing him back into his seat heavily.

Price’s voice is loud in his comms, intermingling with the sounds of the Marines and the whir of the mechanics beneath his feet. Johnny can’t make out the details over the sound of the truck rumbling beneath him.

“Steady Soap?”

Gaz knows - Johnny doesn’t know how Gaz can do this kind of job with the way he fucking oozes empathy. Or sympathy. Johnny could never remember which one was which, he always had to ask you which one to use. Gaz had been the only one who’d asked him if he was alright; Simon had lingered at the edges of rooms Johnny was in to keep an eye on him, and Price tried to give him an extended leave. Johnny had refused.

But Gaz had been waiting until Johnny was sitting outside of some bar a group of Seals had taken them to - a celebration for a job well done months after you were gone, after Johnny's failed attempt to find you.

“You good?” Gaz had asked, fingers twirling a cigarette he would never light.

“O’course.”

It had made Johnny feel like shit to lie to Gaz, and the same feeling washes over him as Gaz’s eyes linger on Johnny.

The warm summer air washes over them; sweat is starting to coat his lower back, his fatigues keeping him too warm. The smell of the desert, of warmed sand keeps him grounded, reminds him of where he is - what he’s doing here.

In the glint of the moonlight, the mountaintops shine at him.

The first few missions had been difficult: he’d fought like hell to try to search for you, fuck the regulations. He’d resign if it meant finding you. The rest of the fucking government didn’t care: no one on the plane was as important as anyone else, not to the officials anyway. Johnny had done just that, his resignation had landed heavily on Price’s desk, only to land in the trashcan a moment later.

Gaz volunteered to follow Johnny, but Price had cut that off quickly. It was to be Johnny and Simon only. They had five days, a week at most before they had to be back home.

The farthest they got was the plane wreckage, a little burnt-out village miles away, and sheep that stared at them from the sides of the mountains. But he couldn’t find a trace of you or a singular person who even recognized the photo of you he kept tucked inside his gear. Even after Simon had disobeyed Price’s orders to return home now after weeks had passed. They didn’t find anything.

Johnny knew that’s why Price had volunteered the 141 for this mission - a small-time terrorist cell hiding out in a country they didn’t belong to, a small promise of the bodies of missing soldiers hidden somewhere.

It was something.

The guards are panicking; the dirt walls shake around you. You can’t guess what it could be: American pilots doing a blind bombing, Russians pretending to send help only to rain down hell on the perceived innocent. Maybe God’s here to level the land and flood it. Try again. Do something different this time.

He could start with your cell, you think, scraping at the dirt on your leg. Underneath the sun-starved skin is paler than it should be. If you ever leave, you think, the first thing you’re going to do is eat a fucking steak in the sunshine. The bones that refused to set correctly ache beneath your bruised flesh.

The sound of gunfire pierces the inescapable silence. Your captors yell, screams punctuating between the bursts of firepower. Good, maybe they’ll tear each other apart and leave you here to die in peace.

Maybe it was a poker game gone extremely wrong. Someone asked to strip when they should have been ponying up the cash.

Smoke pops in the hallway outside, you don’t run from the white creeping in on you, just pull the rags that were your shirt over your mouth to try and keep breathing. It overtakes your cell; you watch as the smoke creeps through the cracks in the ceiling.

The sounds of war flood the small cell - the taste of blood and gunpowder in the air around you. You can taste the iron when you breathe in. It coats your tongue. You run your teeth across the chipped and broken enamel, mixing the taste of other’s blood with your own.

Someone shouts so close this time you can almost make out the words - American accent thick and heavy in your ears - and it stirs something inside of you. You try to navigate the cell through the smoke, rolling painfully off of the pallets your captors had so kindly turned into a bed for you. Crawling across the excreta and mud you try to make a sound, but you haven’t spoken in months.

Your throat is raw, and the sounds that come from you are barely human. You’ll be surprised the men even hear you, let alone notice you there on the ground. You try to pull yourself up at the bars, but the fracture in your ankle that healed up wrong weeks ago keeps you on your knees.

“Hey-” you finally croak out loud enough for one of the men to cast his eyes down at you. “Please.”

He’s so familiar, the softness in his eyes tugging at something familiar inside of you, the sharpness of his shoulders calling to you. You pull yourself up, leaning heavily on the bars and the one ankle that doesn’t scream at you, hands slipping through the bars to try to reach towards him.

His gun drops, swinging loosely on its strap as he steps towards you. His fatigues are filthy, and his nose wrinkles beneath the cloth mask covering his face. You know you smell terrible, and you want to apologize for it, but you can’t make the words come. He looks so tired as he steps towards you, hands reaching out to grip the bars between the two of you.

“Sparrow?”

“Johnny?”

It takes days for you to make it home: IVs from field medics who barely know what they’re doing, anti-viral meds, shots, stitches. They don’t even let you take a real shower until you’ve landed at a base you barely recognize. It’s a painful process, a female nurse wiping at you gently, but still peeling away layers of skin with each pass of the washcloth, your sobs muffled by the shower.

Johnny waits for you on the fringes of all the people that press around you, poking you, prodding you painfully until finally, you find yourself slammed into a British hospital bed.

Johnny comes in the moment they let him, hands held behind his back in a mock parade rest. You barely recognize him, his mohawk almost completely grown out and bags under his eyes. You know you don’t look much better; you’d caught sight of yourself in a mirror before they’d forced you into bed. Ruined was the only word to describe what you saw. Too thin, too broken. Too torn apart to be stitched back together. At least not without all the types of therapy a military doctor listed out to you: hydro, occupational, physical, mental.

Neither of you know what to say, so you start with the last thing the doctor told you.

“They’re going to rebreak my ankle tomorrow,” your voice is still thin, full of isolation. You’d tested it out on everyone who’d been in to work on you, but it didn’t sound right at all. Johnny shuffles nervously where he stands, and then rushes forward to sit in the chair beside your bed. He’s moving wrong, you think, like a wind-up doll. Too slow and then all at once, too fast.

“Why?”

“I healed up wrong.”

Johnny’s hands play with the edge of the blanket that dangles off of the bed, eyes trained on the fabric. He’s not going to look at you. At the ruin you’ve become. You press yourself down harder into the thin mattress, hands tucked beneath your thighs to keep them still.

“Is it going to hurt?”

You can’t help but smile at his question, your toes twitching beneath the blanket that feels so out of place across you. How many months had they had you? A year? No one had told you yet.

“They said I’d be fucked up on medicine. But probably, yeah."

Johnny’s hands aren’t still against the blanket, instead reaching out towards you. The movement startles you, and you jerk to the opposite side, nearly pulling your IVs out. Johnny pulls his hands back, crossing them across his chest.

“When you -” his voice breaks, just a moment before he put it back together, eyes finally meeting yours, “when you come home I’ll bring the bedroom downstairs so that you don’t have to walk far.”

You have the nagging suspicion that he changed what he was going to say at the last moment.

"Are you going to sleep on the couch with me?" You try to tease, but your voice falls flat, unpracticed. But it still makes Johnny smile, sharp incisors digging into his chapped lips.

"I'll sleep wherever you tell me."

The two of you are surrounded by the sounds of the hospital: the beeps of the heart rate monitors, the sounds of the nurses' quiet conversation outside of your room. You trace your hands across the blanket, grasping Johnny’s whenever your fingers collide with each other.

For a moment, neither of you move, just languish in the feeling of each other’s skin; you’re too busy tracing Johnny’s palm to notice him pushing himself closer to you until he kisses you, softly but with a tight undercurrent of desperation, his hand tightening almost painfully on yours.

The feeling of someone touching you so gently after weeks of rage and anger nearly stops your heart. The monitor goes crazy; Johnny pulls back, just the hint of a smile on his lips.

It takes four weeks for Johnny to get the go ahead to bring you home. Each day you were in the hospital he would come for a quick chat before work, bringing you breakfast he picked up. Every day after, he would collapse in the chair beside your bed, smelling of sweat and gunpowder.

The smell made you recoil when he tried to kiss you, and he didn't try again after that, even after you tried to stutter out a why. But the day the doctor tells Johnny that you can go home, you awaken to Johnny outside of the hospital room, arms crossed as he speaks to the head doctor - Johnny looks more serious than you’ve ever seen him off the battlefield.

Everyone rotates around you as if you’re not there, packing the room up, pulling your IVs out, fingers prodding and poking you until a nurse aide wheels a wheelchair into the room for you.

”Ready?” She asks, locking the brakes. She looks at you from across the room, and you know what she wants. Starting the day after they rebroke your bones, they made you get up and start walking, and you push yourself off of the bed, walkable cast heavy against the tile floor.

Johnny’s in the room in a second, catching sight of you whenever he sees you stumbling over your cast across the room. The aide lets him push her out of the way, his hands gripping the wheelchair as you lower yourself down.

“I can walk out, you know.” You grumble at Johnny as he tosses a heavy folder into your lap.

“Hospital procedure, birdie.”

Simon’s truck is waiting for the two of you in the parking lot, Simon in the driver's seat. He throws a glance at you as Johnny helps you clamber into the backseat, crowded around by grocery bags.

“Hello, Luv.”

“Hello, Simon. Thank you for the ride.”

Simon opens his mouth to speak, black hospital mask sliding up, but he’s cut off by Johnny clambering into the passenger seat.

You watch Johnny from the backseat, foot propped up beside you. His hair has grown out too long, the Mohawk nearly disappeared and his beard has started to grow in. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him anything other than clean-shaven; even in the field, he'll butcher himself with a knife before he lets it grow in.

He’s thinner than he should be, too. You wonder if he’d been eating like he was supposed to.

The drive home is disorientating, Simon taking turns too sharply, too quick for your still queasy stomach. By the time Johnny helps you climb down from the truck, dropping your hands quickly when both of your feet are on the ground.

The house is clean, too clean for Johnny to have been here alone. Like he can sense you'd skepticism, Johnny speaks from ahead of you.

“I’ve hired a cleaner,” Johnny says, holding the door open for you. “So don’t worry about anything.”

It’s odd to be back home; you trace your fingers across the knick-knacks you’d collected throughout the years, the furniture you’ve spent years picking out. You have memories of sitting here with Johnny, memories of Simon and Gaz laughing from the kitchen. But now all you feel is lost, a bottle floating in a foreign ocean.

You wander into the kitchen, fingers trailing against the wall - there are no dirty dishes in the sink, no food in the cabinets; Johnny wasn’t living here.

The only dish you recognize is sitting on the counter, you pick it up, feeling the unfamiliar weight in your hand.

“It’s called Kintsugi.”

The Japanese word rolls heavily off of Johnny’s tongue, your fingers pause tracing the golden lines that cut through the mug. It was your favorite, a gift from when you and Johnny had first met. The two of you met at a diner, out with mutual friends. You’d thought it was cute, the name of the diner printed across the front in vintage lettering. Johnny had swiped it for you, hiding it beneath his jacket until the two of you parted ways at your doorstep.

“What happened to it?”

“I broke it,” he admits, dropping the grocery bags onto the counter. Your fingernail can’t find any snag in the glaze, any sign that the mug has never had the golden lines cutting through it.

Johnny busies himself with unloading the bag, speaking without looking at you as he confesses.

“After you were taken, I spent weeks searching for you until Price forced me to come home. I was angry, and I smashed it.”

You can feel the frown sketched onto your face; you don’t look at Johnny as you set the mug down on the counter.

You lean against the counter and watch Johnny busy himself with the groceries.

“He was right,” you admit, feeling silly over the sadness that fills you over the broken cup, “but maybe that’s something Simon has a lot of experience with broken things ya’know.”

You and Johnny orbit each other for weeks: he’s there every day until you begin to question if he’s gotten himself fired to stay home with you. He drives you everywhere, and if he can’t, Simon waits for you just out past the front gate, no doubt on Johnny’s orders.

“I had a lot of time off,” he says one day, elbow-deep in the laundry that he dumped between the two of you, eyes cast on the television. “Never had a reason to take it before.”

Your hands smooth the wrinkles out of one of Johnny’s shirts, fingers picking at the loose string. Today had been talk therapy, recommended by the SAS doctors. They were strict about all the requirements you had to meet if you ever wanted to go back, and laying on a shrink’s couch for two hours a week was one of them.

The graying doctor had asked you if you had spoken to Johnny about the anger that still wells up in you, the dreams you have of tearing your captives to pieces with your hands, the internal self-flagellation you went through every night when you thought about the career you’d worked so hard for, and have now lost.

You had spent the rest of the day thinking about what he said, even when it meant not paying attention to the medical doctor’s order when they were cutting your cast off, but Johnny took in every word.

You almost say something then, tossing Johnny’s shirt onto his pile, but the wrong words come out.

“You need a haircut.”

“Yeah?” Johnny’s hands still around a pair of your shorts, you feel him watching you in his peripheral vision. “You want to cut it?”

Of course, you did; you spend more moments than not thinking about how his hair must feel like long if it’s still soft. But every time the two of you tried to touch each other, the other pulled away.

So when Johnny takes your hand, and pulls you up the stairs, you let him - hand heavy and warm in your own.

Johnny lowers himself onto the closed toilet seat; you feel unsteady as you approach him, clippers in hand, and you’re not sure if it’s from the closeness or the weight of your cast being removed.

“Are you sure you trust me to do this?” You ask again; since you’d come home your fingers had been a kind of clumsy they’d never been before.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Johnny keeps his eyes trained on you, fingers tapping against the tight denim stretched across his jeans.

“I can scalp you bald,” you admit, switching the clippers on, “and then you’d look like a Q-Ball for eight weeks.”

“I’ll be the best damn Q-Ball anyone’s ever seen,” Johnny says, beard twitching as he smirks at you. If he notices the way your fingers tremble when you take his jaw in your hand, he doesn’t say anything.

His eyes close at the feeling of the clippers cutting through his hair, no doubt the feeling of the weight being removed was comfortable for him.

“You didn’t do this while I was - while I was gone?”

Your therapist says you shouldn’t shy away from calling your kidnapping what it was, but you still can’t form the words in front of Johnny.

He hums at your words, never opening his eyes as he speaks.

“I don’t let anyone else touch my hair, birdie.”

“What about your beard?”

Johnny snorts, eyes meeting yours as you maneuver his head to the side.

“You don’t like it?”

You like the way he feels against your skin, you want to tell him. But you can’t make the words form, can’t spit them out. Johnny watches you chew on them for a moment before he lets out a sigh. His hair is scattered on the floor around the two of you, more than you’d thought he’d had.

You swap the guards to shorten his mohawk, pressing yourself in between Johnny’s knees so that you can reach the nape of his neck.

His hands wrap around your thighs, light and warm against the skin that peeks out beneath the shorts you hadn’t taken off since you’d left your cast removal this morning.

Your skin is on fire at his touch, you try to ignore it as you clean up his neck; Johnny buries his face in your shirt, breath warm against your stomach. His fingers trace light patterns on your thigh and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep the clippers from straying.

His fingers trace the scar that covers his name, and you jump back like you’ve been shocked. Your back hits the wall, knocking the decorative towels you’d spent days choosing to the floor. Johnny’s hands linger in the air between the two of you as you try to catch your breath.

“Sorry,” you pant out with a heavy swallow.

Johnny pushes himself up, eyes watching you like you’re a wild animal ready to run.

He reaches out and brushes some of his fallen hair from your shoulders, electrifying your skin again. His touch is hesitant as he traces up your shoulder, fingers cupping the back of your neck.

He’s fire as he presses himself against you, lips brushing over yours just quick enough to light something up inside of you before pulling away with an apology. He loosens the clippers from your hands and shoos you out with a promise he’ll clean the hair up himself.

A storm rages outside, threatening to cut the power at any moment. You watch it throw around tree limbs and leaves through the front window. Behind you, the television casts soft shadows on the walls.

“Still pouring out there?” Johnny asks from his spot on the couch. Your answer is the curtain falling back into place. You pad back to your spot beside Johnny; he holds the blanket up for you to slip underneath.

His bare leg rubs against yours, but his hands stay firmly in his lap. He hadn’t tried to touch you since that day in the bathroom - even when he dropped you off at therapy, you’d wait for him to stretch across and kiss you, but he’d just send you off with a wave.

You knew it was partially your fault: you couldn’t get the words out to explain how much you wanted him to touch you, how sorry you were for every jerk away. Every time you tried to tell him how much you wanted him, the words curled into your throat and refused to budge. You had even asked earlier for him to take a shower with you, to no avail.

The movie - some family flick Johnny picked because it didn’t have any violence, you know - cast shadows across Johnny’s face. His stubble is starting to come in again; you reach out and trace your finger across the five o’clock shadow creeping onto his jawline.

Johnny doesn’t take his eyes away from the television screen, but he leans his face into your touch. Your fingers trace upwards, lacing through the Mohawk you’d trimmed just two weeks ago. Johnny nearly purrs when you tug on his hair, pulling him down so that he’s lying across your lap.

You have to take it slow, you know or you and Johnny both might break apart. So you just settle beneath him, fingers tracing patterns onto his scalp, eyes trained on the television, but not really watching.

“I don’t think I’m going to go back,” you whisper, voice nearly drowned out by the storm outside. Johnny rolls, doing his best not to dig painfully into your thigh to look up at you.

“To work?”

You nod, still refusing to look at him.

“I talked about it with the therapist today; I just - I think it would be best if I just cashed in my retirement. I’ve got a lot saved up: hazard pay and all that. The corporal offered me a job as a trainer. So I could still be around."

Johnny’s hand reaches up to grab your wrist, forcing you to look at him. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you don’t like that. He’s always your open book. You try to keep your heart rate steady at the feeling of him tracing patterns on your wrist.

“I’m sorry, birdie.”

And you know he’s not just apologizing for your ruined career, for the nearly year you’d spent locked away in some disgusting cell, for the still broken teeth in your mouth, or the screws that hold most of you together now. He’s still apologizing for not being able to find you earlier, to be there months earlier.

“It’s not your fault Johnny - I should have told them no. I should have been smart enough to just tell my commanding that I couldn’t do it. I should have-“

Hot tears start to fall; Johnny pushes himself up, fingers brushing them away gently. When you don’t shy away from his touch, he pulls you into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin, and pulling you so tight you think you might break beneath his touch. And you would let yourself shatter beneath him, if it meant he could put you back together, shot through with gold.

Johnny lets you cry on his shoulder until the fabric of his shirt is soaking wet; after a while, the smell of him, the softness of the way he caresses your back,and the feeling of his jean-clad thigh between your own stirs something else inside of you. You need something else, something more desperate, something to push away the feelings of failure. Of the fear that still lingers in you of heights, and darkness, and men who smell of sweat and gunpowder.

So when you kiss him, softly, Johnny doesn’t push you away like he can feel how much you need him to touch you. Even as he lifts you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, you don’t break the kiss. It stays superficial, and soft, neither of you breaking apart or deepening it. You expect him to carry you to the spare bed he brought downstairs for you, but instead, he cradles you up the stairs, hands gripping your thighs so tight you know there will be a thumb-shaped bruise there tomorrow.

Johnny doesn’t stumble as he carries you.

In the bedroom the two of you shared before you were lost, Johnny collapses on the bed, his smell enveloping you, hands never leaving you. He buries his nose in the soft skin of your neck, breathing in the smell of you.

“Are you here with me birdie?”

Johnny’s voice is muffled on your skin, his hands pausing at the hem of your shirt.

“I’m here Johnny.”

You rest your hands on his biceps and feel the way his heart is in your own chest. His weight presses down around you, the mattress sinking down beneath the two of you. The wind rolls in through the window, gooseflesh erupting on your skin where Johnny isn’t touching.

Johnny’s hands don’t move from the hem of your shirt until you slide your own down to his wrists, a bravery you hadn’t felt in weeks taking over you.

“Please, Johnny.”

Johnny shifts, knees spreading your own apart, but he still doesn’t touch your bare skin until you tug on his wrists, trying to slide them underneath your shirt, instead, he traces your arms - the area you know he thinks is safe.

The feeling of his calloused hands on your soft skin makes you shiver; Johnny presses a kiss to your pulse point. You know he can feel the way your heartbeat picks up quickly, and he bites down on the sensitive skin lightly. You can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way you buck your hips upward into his.

“Birdie.” It’s a warning and a promise rolled into one, and it makes you press your knees together, trying to slow yourself down.

You let your own hands start exploring Johnny. Once, you’d had his skin memorized - every scar and freckle committed to your own memory. But there are new scars there you’ve never seen before, new wrinkles at the corner of his eyes he didn’t have before.

It’s like the first time again, both of you exploring each other slowly. Johnny pauses every time you make a noise, eyes searching your face to make sure you’re alright. You push him away just long enough to pull his shirt off of him, hands instantly reaching out to pull him back down. His own hands slide your shorts down until you can kick them across the room.

Johnny kisses you, full of the same desperation he’d had that day at the hospital. Your teeth click together as the two of you suddenly move frantically, hands grasping at each other. Johnny shakes as you run your nails down his back, pushing until he realizes what you want.

Johnny rolls, hands still wrapped around your waist until you’re on top of him. The thin material of your panties is already wet; you can feel it when you grind down on him. The rough material of his blue jeans has enough friction to send lighting bolts through you.

“Is that what you want birdie?” Johnny’s voice is low and rough in his throat; his hands rest lightly on your hips as you grind down. Your hands reach back to rest on his thighs, more leverage for you to move.

You can’t answer him, already biting down on the moans that start to build in the back of your throat. Johnny’s grip tights as you speed up; you can feel his erection pressing tightly against his zipper as you grind faster.

You feel yourself start to tremble, hands moving to brace yourself against Johnny’s chest. He wraps one hand around your wrist, the other still at your waist; you can’t look away from the hungry glint in his eye.

Outside the storm lashes, the cool air rolling in across you and Johnny.

“Let it out,” he whispers, voice ragged and panting. He’s bucking his own hips in time with your grinding; he’s holding back - you know he doesn’t want to scare you, so you loosen the knot inside of you, moaning loud enough that a blush starts to creep up your chest. At the sound, Johnny bucks up harder.

You can’t help the way you come undone, nails digging into Johnny’s chest, leaving half moons on the sensitive skin. Johnny lets you ride him until the waves of your orgasm finish rolling over you, his hands not leaving you until you finally still, thighs shaking on each side of him. You can feel your drenched underwear, feel yourself soaking into his blue jeans.

Johnny is so hard beneath you, a red flush across his chest. Outside the storm rages harder, and the lights flicker momentarily. Johnny pushes himself up onto one elbow, the hand that has refused to move up your shirt sliding up just an inch. His fingers play with the edge of your underwear, the lace snagging on his callouses.

“Why don’t you want to touch me?” You can barely hear yourself over the rain lashing against the window; Johnny’s eyebrows knit together, and he pushes himself up until he’s sitting up, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep from falling backward.

“I want to touch you,” he tries to reassure you, hands tracing patterns across the back of your shirt. But you shrug his hands off, catching his wrists in your hands before he can fully withdraw away.

“You won’t touch me beneath my shirt,” you slide his hands down to the bare skin of your thighs, moving them until the hem of your shirt falls over his fingertips. “You wouldn’t take a shower with me.”

Johnny chews on his lips, they’re too chapped, you think. The silence stretches in the sound of the storm, and the flickering lights. Before Johnny can speak lightning and thunder crash outside, and the house goes dark - the sound of the electricity powering down cutting him off. Neither of you moves in the sudden blackness.

“I’m not broken, Johnny.” You don’t want to sound so pathetic, but you do.

“I know you’re not, hen.”

“Then why am I having to beg, Johnny?”

Johnny’s hand slips up so that he’s holding your hips beneath your shirt.

“I’m not going to hurt you too.”

It’s a tough confession for him to make, you know. He’d done his best not to talk about the whole ordeal, he never asked what you went through. This was his way of keeping you away from it.

You roll your hips across his again, and his breath catches in his throat.

“Please Johnny; you’re not going to hurt me.”

You don’t know if it’s the whine in your voice or the way you trace your fingers across the hard plane of his chest, or if Johnny is just as tired of holding back as you - but he rolls you over, gentle and quick until his chest his pressed against yours, his mouth finding the sensitive skin at the base of your neck.

You’re horribly out of practice, fumbling with the buttons on his jeans, getting stuck when Johnny pulls your shirt over your head, but he doesn’t let his lips leave you; your teeth clip together as Johnny deepens the kiss he refuses to let end until your gasping for breath beneath him.

It’s electric in the best and worst ways - Johnny’s calloused fingers tracing patterns on your stomach, kneading the soft flesh of your breasts, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, pushing them further down each time.

The current running through you makes it difficult to breathe; you can’t even warn Johnny, can’t beg him to slow down what you were just begging him to speed up. But there has never been anyone who’s known you the same way Johnny has, and when his hands slow you know he can feel that it’s too much. Just for a moment.

“Still with me?”

“Still here.”

Johnny’s hands don’t speed up, but he doesn’t slow either - pressing open-mouth kisses down your neck, between your breasts, across the planes of your stomach until he finally stops at the edge of your underwear. He darts his tongue out to lick the sensitive skin peeking out above the hem, and the feeling makes you gasp out, hips pressing harder into the mattress. His fingertips brush just over the wetness you’ve soaked through and you grind your teeth together, painfully.

“Too much?”

Yes.

Too much for you at this moment; you’re not sure if your body will hold together if Johnny even tries to eat you out, tries to stretch you with his fingers, you can hardly keep together at the feeling of him touching you anywhere after so many months of nothing but dirt, and maggots, and feverish longing for-

You didn’t notice Johnny crawling back up your body until he presses a soft kiss on your temple, fingers wiping away your hair that’s plastered with sweat there.

Johnny’s whispering in your ear: how much he missed you, how he had thought about you every day, how he’d tried to scorch the earth to look for you; he pulls you until you’re back on top of him. You can feel how hard he is, how wet you are as you grind down against the hard planes of his lower stomach, searching for him.

Johnny’s hands squeeze at your hips, shifting the both of you until you feel the tip of him catch against you; a shudder rolls through you both, but Johnny doesn’t move. Every muscle in his body is pulled taunt, pulled against fucking into you at a frenetic pace. You recognize the set of his jaw, the way his hands wrap around your forearms. He’s letting you set the pace, letting you control him.

You wait for just a heartbeat before pressing down onto him; your vision whites out from the almost uncomfortable stretch of him as you sink down slowly. You can’t remember the last time the two of you were here, the last time the two of you fucked. Johnny’s nails dig into the underside of your forearm, yours into his chest until you finally reach the hilt.

You hold there for a moment, feeling the way he fills you up - so much so that you don’t think there’s room for anything else besides Johnny - there never has been. You can’t even think between the feeling of Johnny filling you up and the feeling of not trying to cum so fast. Finally, when your heartbeat slows incrementally, you rock yourself against him, slowly, using his chest as leverage.

Beneath you Johnny is coming undone; he’s biting his lip so hard you think he might draw blood, so you trace your fingertips across his bottom lip. His lips part beneath your touch, and he takes your pointer finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around it.

The feeling makes your hips move faster, stuttering against him. Johnny moans, muffled around your finger. The sound is horribly erotic in the darkness, and it spurs something inside of you to move your hips faster, rougher against Johnny. But he doesn’t move beneath you, still holding himself back. The sound of skin on skin, of how wet you are for him drown out the storm.

Johnny’s hands are everywhere: in your hair, cupping the supple flesh of your ass, pinching and rolling your nipples between his thick fingers; one hand sneaks across the flesh of your hip, dipping between the two of you to circle your clit. The feeling makes you crumple against him; Johnny takes the opportunity to roll you over, pressing you into the mattress.

Johnny presses one of your knees up, hooking it over his elbow so that he can fuck into you, still gentle even when he’s deeper than you think he’s ever been before, his other hand still circling your clit, slowly enough to keep you from falling apart, but fast enough to bring you to the edge.

His pace grows rougher; you claw at him, drawing red welts across his skin, but Johnny doesn’t slow down. You keep your eyes closed tightly, back arched to try and get him in deeper, to get more.

“Look at me.”

Johnny’s voice is rough, a gentle command you have to follow. His eyes never leave yours, even when his pace increases, the finger on your clit still rubbing tight circles until-

Until you’re breaking apart, shattering beneath him. Your orgasm makes you arch, back nearly leaving the mattress. Johnny’s hands move to cup your face, pulling himself down until he can kiss you as you ride through your orgasm, gasping in his own mouth. Your nails draw thick red welts across his back, but Johnny doesn’t stop pounding into you, your moans drowned out by the way he kisses you.

Not long after, Johnny’s pace starts to stutter, his lips never leaving yours until he plunges in deeper than he had before, and you can feel his warm release spill out inside of you.

Even when he’s completely spent, Johnny doesn’t pull out of you, instead fucking into you once, twice, three more times until you know you can’t take anymore, hands pressing on his chest to push him away.

Johnny’s fingers smooth your twitching thighs as he pulls away. In the darkness, you can just see his outline as he shifts between your legs, but he doesn’t move from there.

He caresses you until you are finally still and your panting finally slows. His fingers trace across the cracks you can still feel, stitching you back together, shot through with gold.

“Still here?”

“Still here.”

#my fics #john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish #cod soap x reader #cod imagines #cod smut #soap mw2 #soap mactavish #cod x reader #johnny mactavish

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cottagecheese1 · 4 months ago

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unhinged worlds 4

summary: A few years after your father died, your mother marries a new man, to you having a new family meant new beginnings, but what happens when your new beginning comes spiraling apart just because of the people that made them.

paring: dark stepdad Andy Barber x reader x dark dbf Lloyd Hansen x reader x dark stepbrother Johnny storm x reader x dark bbf Colin Shea. warnings- (DDLG undertones) stepcest, Johnny is NOT Andy's biological father, he is the adopted son. smut, do not engage if you are uncomfortable with any of the following, spanking, blackmail, p in v, edging, thigh riding, oral, fingering.

Series master list right here

Another day, that's what you always seem to think when you wake up and the sun burns through your eyelids, when the seemingly 8 hours of sleep comes to an end, but this morning just seemed worse than the other ones. Mostly because you knew and dreaded what was coming as Andy grumbled, and pulled you tighter to his bare chest as he tried to hide away from the sun peaking through the blinds.

As you laid there stiff, scared, and a bit shocked at the previous night activities circulated through your head, but one seemed to never stop nagging you. You close your eyes and furrow your eyebrows thoughtlessly, as you recall the conversation the night before that Andy had brought up, and had desperately scared you when he mentioned a man named Lloyd. Who was this man? Your heartbeat quickens at the thought of another man coming in with the intentions of the men who were supposed to love, and protect you when your mother went away.

Andy grumbles and tosses around some more and you tense up and mentally curse yourself, secretly hoping for some more time with your thoughts, as you sigh in defeat and hear stomping and kitchen drawers being pulled open roughly. Andy groans and you feel him lean over the top of your head and pepper kisses all over the side of your face with a hum, while he strokes your sweater covered arm with a smug smile.

“Morning' honey..how did you sleep babygirl?” Andy says with a deep rumble as he strokes a stray piece of hair away from your face when you refuse to look at him.

You pause for a moment and your real response races through your head, scared, worried, afraid. Knowing that's not an answer he’d accept you sigh, “Fine.”

He looks at you with a little irritation when you cut him a short answer, and he sighs with annoyance, “Honey..I know you're angry, but you better knock the attitude off before I do..”

Andy grabs your face roughly, forcing you to look at him and his expression softens, “Daddy loves you sweetheart, but the last thing I wanna do is punish you first thing in the morning. Especially when we have a guest coming over today”, he smiles softly and loosens the grip on your cheeks slightly.

You nod slowly, and you notice how quickly his temper rises and falls within all of 40 seconds. You force yourself to give a small smile and sit up slowly. Not wanting to provoke the larger man in some way, your mouth feels dry and croaky as you open your mouth to suggest something, “we should..”, but the words get caught in your throat and you manage to force them out anyway, “we should get some breakfast..”

Andy chuckles and leans in closer, inches away from your face and pushes you back down flat to the mattress, “ah, give me a kiss first and we can go eat..” he smiles smugly and brushes your hair back.

Chills seem to run up your spine and you swallow nervously, while managing to keep your small smile, you lean up slowly to press a small kiss to his lips. Before you can pull back Andy grabs the back of your head gently with a bit of roughness, as he deepens the kiss and manages to slide his tongue in while he hums in contentment. Your eyes widen and attempt to push him away as you plant your hands on either side of his broad shoulders, and after a moment of him enduring your struggle, Andy finally pulls away with a chuckle while leaning over you.

“Just having some fun honey..no need to act like that”, Andy winks with a smile and lets you sit up. He gets out of bed, watching him throw on a plain white T-shirt with some gray sweatpants, and you both hear a knock on the door.

“Hey! Can you two hurry up already..Lloyds been bitching about wanting to see her already”, You furrow your eyebrows and what you can make out to be Johnny on the other side of the door, and then you realize that the man you’ve been scared to meet is on the other side of the room.

You glance over to Andy and he rolls his eyes while he lets out a huff, “tell him to hold on..! And that he’s in my house” he yells loud enough to where Johnny can hear, and Andy glances over at you while walking over to your side of the bed, then kneeling down to grip your hands in his larger ones as he stares into your worried expression, “I know your scared honey, and trust me. I was gonna talk to you about this, but he came earlier than expected, so all you need to do is be a good girl..can you do that for Daddy?” he says softly and for a moment you feel safe.

You nod your head and get up out of bed, in only Andy’s sweater and panties. Before you look at the door nervously and you glance behind you to see Andy's hands on your shoulders softly as he smiles down at you, “um..can I get some shorts.? Or pants would be ok to..” You say nervously.

Andy hums softly and nods, before looking down at your bare legs and panty clad ass in front of him, “of course honey..I don’t want anyone else seeing that pretty ass first thing in the morning either..” he winks before pulling out a pair of shorts that he seemed to take from your room, and you sigh in relief as he hands them to you.

Taking the shorts eagerly, you slide them on quickly as Andy watches you hungrily. A twitch to his cock makes him groan a bit when you bend over, his disappointment shows when you stand back up, turning back around to look at him and he gives a hum in contentment while motioning you out the door, which leads straight into the kitchen.

You turn the door handle and push the door open in unwanted anticipation. You feel Andy push you further out the door like you were a scared puppy, and he leans down to whisper slowly into your ear, “Remember to be a good girl..” a shiver runs through your spine and you nod.

“Morning sweetheart, you got a special someone who wants to see you..” Colin teases you playfully before Johnny elbows him in the side, before smiling at you with a bit of a mischievous glint to his eyes.

You try to ignore the two men standing in the kitchen before you see a taller man walk from behind the two boys, and you feel Andy's grip tighten on your hips as the man walks closer. He smiles down at you and pulls you roughly away from Andy with a laugh, “There's my pumpkin.! Oh look at you, such a cutie..gotta nice ass too”, the man known as Lloyd pulls you into his chest and gropes your ass playfully.

The mustached man leads you into the living room, and you can faintly hear Andy groan in the back while the laughter of Johnny and Colin stop. Lloyd sits down on the couch and pulls you roughly onto his lap, “Oh come to daddy pumpkin.. I just couldn’t wait to see you sugar, I know you're tired of these fucker-”, Lloyd gets cut off by hands grunt.

“I’m daddy, you moron..why didn’t you tell me you were coming this early?” Andy says with irritation, and Lloyd just shoots Andy an amused grin while pulling you closer into him and pressing a soft kiss on your cheek, which confuses you.

“Then I can be daddy when you're not around dickhead..like I said I was saying, I just couldn’t wait to see my pumpkin so I wanted to get here as early as possible..how about you sugar? You wanna ride in daddy's private jet? I think you do..” Lloyd coos at you as he grabs your cheeks teasingly, before Johnny scoffs behind him.

“She’s not going anywhere with you..let alone back to wherever you came from” Johnny states with a little humor in his voice, and you shuffle awkwardly on his lap. They aren’t actually gonna let his weirdo take you home with him right?

Andy immediately pipes into the conversation and waves his hand in a dismissing motion, “no, no, no..your not taking her anywhere with you, let alone on a plane or since I’m already pissed off at you” he says sternly while crossing his arms, and you just decide to stay put and listen.

“Oh stop being a little bitch, I’ll show her a good time..she behaves so well anyway” He scoffs for a minute before turning back to you with a teasing smile as you sit uncomfortably in his lap and look the other way.

Your actions seem to make a rise out of him and he grabs you face to make you look at him, and his hand wonders under your shirt until he pinches your nipples, and you jolt a bit and whine which seems to make everyone chuckle except for Andy, “Such a good girl..quiet as a mouse to aren’t you pumpkin? You haven’t even said a word to me yet”, he smiles and caresses your cheek softly, and you whine when he pinches your peaked nipples much rougher this time.

Colin seems to laugh at that and join in, “She's shy..barely even said more than a few sentences to us, not to mention how pretty she was whining. Desperate to cum when her pussy was getting some special kisses isn't that right baby?” Colin teases you relentlessly as his mocking tone makes you put your head down in embarrassment.

Lloyd Laughs at your shyness, and everyone seems to laugh along, including Andy. Lloyd tilts your chin up to look at him and runs his thumb over your bottom lip, before he slides his hand down your flimsy shorts and you whimper, looking at Andy for some kind of help but he just groans in amusement and adjusts the bulge in his sweatpants. As does everyone else and you can’t help but feel like you're being used. Mocked.

“Is that right pumpkin? Well you're shy now but you won’t be once I give you some special attention..daddy will make sure to spoil his princess” Lloyd teases and rubs your damp pussy through your cotton panties and you let out a soft moan and lean back against him.

“That's right baby girl..nothing wrong with a little attention, you like it don’t you?” Lloyd whispers lowly into your ear as you feel his thick fingers slide past your panties and you squeeze your thighs together in unwanted pleasure, as the others behind you groan in pleasure and you feel your climax coming closer than ever.

You grid against Lloyds fingers needily and let out shameless soft moans as he rubs quick small circles on your clit while he smiles at your neediness. “Thats it pumpkin..I know your close, go ahead and cum” he says deeply and you feel the coil in your lower stomach unravel and you let out a moan and slump back against Lloyd, as he takes his fingers covered in your juices and sucks them clean while the others smile and look down at you with lust and desire as your eyes are half lidded in pleasure, Andy chuckles.

“That was real sweet baby, but way more where that came from...”, Andy says darkly while Lloyd lays your back on the couch, and suddenly your back where you started out.

tag list

@xycnsstuff

@abbyyourlocalmilf

@wolfsmom1

@jeelsinha

@realm-of-azrael

A/n: Sorry it took me so long to continue, let me know if you have any recommendations for part 5

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internet1girl · 9 days ago

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Chapter 5: What Happened Here?

Pairing: Johnny Cage x Fem!Reader

Summary: A whole village, depopulated just like that. Does something still lurk within its vacant buildings? Is whoever, or whatever, did this still out there? Something’s going on…

Word count: 11.9k Warnings/Notices: named!reader, angst, mentions of child abuse, dubious content, descriptions of gore and viscera, gross stuff overall, sexually suggestive, flirty johnny, a few curse words here and there

First Chapter / Previous part

A/N: new chapter yayyy :3

y’all the next chapters will be shorter I PROMISE THIS TIME!!!

Midday shines down onto Outworld. The night has ended, and the darkness has given way to the light of the sun.

The carriage was still on its course for the village, now only minutes away from its destination. The vehicle was gearing along the rolling hills of rural Outworld, surrounded by nothing but greenery. Though, just like the prior night was moonless, this current afternoon was sunless. The sky was completely covered by thick grey clouds, not allowing even a single stream of the sun's rays to peak through.

Inside, the vibe from last night had changed. The pink light of the overhead lanterns was completely drowned out by the light of the day, and the background ambience was now thick with animal noises and howling wind.

You and Johnny were both awake and had been for some time, you both were busy with your own respective activities. Silence was thick within the air, the both of you were immersed in whatever had captured your attentions in the moment.

Sometime in the night, you broke out of the hypnotism that was the view of Johnny's sleeping form and finally fell asleep. When you awoke in the morning, you chalked that whole experience up as nothing but a dream. Must’ve been a really weird one, considering how you would never take advantage of the fact that Johnny was sleeping to silently admire his beautiful features. Yes... that was nothing but a vision that your subconscious decided to randomly generate for no reason at all… right?

Right now, you were gazing out of the carriage window, your eyes on the fields of Outworld. Despite it being a cloudy day, it was still so stunning to see. You always had a fondness for greenery, an appreciation for nature was something that you carried ever since you were a girl. When on these missions, you loved to do nothing but gaze out of the window, to stare at whatever landscape currently surrounding you. It was nice, calming, relaxing.

Across from you, Johnny was sat, his eyes glued to the screen in his hand as aimlessly scrolling through social media. His free hand would snake behind him to rub the nape of his neck every now and then. He woke up with a crick in it, for some weird reason.

His attention would soon be diverted when he clicked on the Twitter logo on his home screen. To his egotistical joy, the sight of his name currently trending on the app met him, in all its glory. His fans were raving about an up-and-coming action movie that he was to star in. Scrolling through all the ecstatic tweets earned a smile from him, one that only grew as he read through the latest search results of his own name.

"Guess who's trending on Twitter?" He loudly announced, looking up and flashing you a grin.

His voice suddenly breaking through the silence caught you off guard a tiny bit. You’d temporarily forgotten about his presence, as nice as it sounded. The plains outside consumed all your focus, leaving little room for anything else. You turned to face him, a little ticked off that he had interrupted your nature watching.

"...Who?"

"Me, of course!” He shoved his phone in your face, showing you the tweets of people going crazy over him as evidence.

There was something he liked about how he was able to capture all of your attention with just his voice, as silly as it sounded. Your eyes on him made his skin prick in anticipation, though he chose to keep these odd feelings confined to his brain.

"Wow, that's lovely." Your tone was comically flat as you stared at the screen a few inches away from your face. You didn't even bother to pretend like you were happy or excited for him in any way.

Your deadpan response got a scowl out of him, his lips pulling down in dissatisfaction.

“A bit more enthusiasm would be nice…” He muttered as he took his phone back, his voice taking on a more brooding tone. He's Johnny Cage, everyone should be excited and happy when he has news! Everyone loves him!

You roll your eyes, leaning against the back of your seat as you turn your gaze back to the carriage window. Though, a query sprouting in your mind did tear your attention away from the hills outside and back onto him.

"How do you even have reception? We're in the middle of nowhere." Your eyes narrowed as you looked over at him, the logistics of Johnny and his phone now finally coming into question for you.

“Darlin’, I’m Johnny Cage. Wherever I go, I make sure to have access to reception and Wi-Fi. I need access to these to keep in touch with my fans." He huffed, as if this was the simplest, most obvious thing in the world.

You were about to say something in response, but your lips stilled before your vocal cords could form a noise. Instead, you just looked over at him with a baffled expression, your brows furrowed in confusion. This man was just so…

"Why you looking at me like that? You jealous?" He smirked, finding it so amusing that he was able to draw out such reactions to paint the blank canvas that was your usual emotionless face.

Your fog gave way to your typical ’Johnny Cage just pissed me off’ scowl upon his question. This man was so predictable, yet he still somehow kept managing to catch you off guard.

"Far from it, Cage."

"You sure? That's exactly what someone who’s jealous would say.” He teased, tilting his head to the side, a coy smile tugging at his lips.

In contrast, your scowl deepened. ”I would actually hate to have my whole life on display for millions to see."

His smirk didn't even falter at your dismissal, his glittering ego practically impenetrable. “Ah, don't tell me you don't have a desire to be in my spotlight, Jade."

You once again roll your eyes at his arrogance, a small groan leaving you. "I have no desire to be famous."

This made his eyes narrow. Johnny didn't know why, but he felt like your reaction wasn't genuine. Despite their truth, he didn't believe your words. In his eyes, you were too gorgeous to not possess a secret desire to be adored by the masses, to be well-known and worshipped like him. He didn’t understand why you wouldn’t want to capitalise on your perfect looks, to have millions across the globe venerate you. Why would you put your beauty to waste?

“But, why not? You're pretty enough to be famous. Everyone would love you."

His sweet words got a small laugh out of you. Sure, he’d probably said such a line to a countless amount of women in his lifetime, it would be entirely unsurprising. But still, it was nice to be complemented every once in a while.

"That doesn't matter. I value my privacy."

His eyebrows raised, your sincerity finally starting to sink in.

“You serious?” He started, your humbleness something that his vanity couldn’t grasp. ”You really don't have any desire to have fans? Like, at all?"

"No." You replied bluntly, looking him dead in the eyes as you did so. The idea of having millions of people knowing every single thing about you made your skin crawl. As an assassin, you couldn't think of anything worse for you or your lifestyle.

You’re serious. You’re actually serious.

Johnny wouldn't quite say that he was shocked, but he was kind of surprised. Though, it started to fade when he took note of how you weren’t being as snippy anymore. He actually kind of liked this, to speak with you as an equal.

"But... why? It's great having fans. They're like your own army."

"Army?” You look at him with a raised eyebrow. “I don't need others to fight my battles."

Johnny was trying and failing to convince you to enter the world of Hollywood.

This wasn't the first time he's done so, either. Over the months, he's tried a multitude of times to hire other Earthrealmers, and even some Outworlders, to star in some of his upcoming projects. Most declined.

He sighed a little. "Fine. You don't need an army. But... don't you want the adoration and praise that millions of people give to you? It's not bad, or anything."

You took a few seconds to ponder what he had to say. It's not like he was 100% wrong, but it's not like he was right either. You just weren’t a public person, something that your celebrity counterpart struggled to understand.

"I won’t lie and say that I don't see how one wouldn't find that appealing, but it's not for me. I am all that I need."

Ever since you and Hiroshi cut contact, you’ve learnt to rely on yourself. Despite your other friends, you were still a little bit of a lone wolf, in a way. Never really allowing yourself to be dependent on anyone else, lest they leave you again. You couldn't help it, it was a trauma response.

A small pause of silence passed between you both, the only sound from the carriage being the trotting of the horse's hooves on the ground. His mind latched onto the latter part of your statement, your last sentence dominating his thoughts. Something about it struck him deeply, your words repeating in his head without let up. He didn’t know why, but your unabashed self-reliance had him zoning out as he stared down at the floorboards below. You’re all that you need. Just you…

This was one of the times that you found Johnny interesting as a person. You couldn't help but be intrigued by him. He was actually a pretty deep person, he was more than just some narcissistic playboy. You’d figured this out ever since the pyramid mission. A part of you itched to know more about this man, to peel back the layers of intrigue that coated him.

"May I ask you a question?" You broke the quiet, the sound of your voice jolting him out of his thoughts.

A smile bloomed on his jaw in response, his face lighting up. As if he would ever say no.

“Sure. Ask away.”

"What was the driving force in your desire to enter the film industry, to become a part of the Hollywood society?” You were semi-careful with your words. This was a genuine question that you posed, the unwanted possibility of offending him like last night being taken into consideration.

He paused for a few moments as he thought of what to say, looking down to his intertwined hands. To say that he was shocked would be… inaccurate. Surprise would be a better word to sum up his current feelings. Such a question from you was new... and, admittedly, very interesting. He took in another breath before he replied.

"When I was young, I guess I always found myself drawn to the spotlight.” He looked up, meeting your curious gaze. “I love being... noticed. It felt good. It made me happy."

You took some time to dissect Johnny's answer, running over the words in your mind. Deep down, you wondered if that desire for attention was a byproduct of his father's neglect, a result stemming from the lack of a brotherly bond, an outcome of his mother’s tragic absence. You refrained from saying any of this out loud, though.

"...l see." You finally reply. A tiny, satisfied smile graced your features.

“So, what about you? Did you always want to be an... assassin?" It was Johnny's turn to ask an actual, non-antagonistic question. He looked over at you, elbows pressed into his knees as he patiently waited for your response.

His question caught you off guard a little. You weren’t offended, it's just that nobody had ever really asked you something like this. You took some more time to think about your answer, running over the key moments of your occupation in your mind as your thumb stroked your chin.

"My career is something that I fell into. It is what I excel at, and, for a while, it was a valuable source of income. Think of Kenshi and his ties to the Yakuza as a comparable example."

"So, what, you enjoy it?" He asked, tilting his head to the side slightly.

This was another one of his questions that had you thinking. Nobody had really questioned you about your profession before, such inquiries were admittedly new to you. New, but not unwelcome.

"Sometimes." You admitted. "There’s a particular thrill to it."

His eyebrows raised. "A thrill? Do you..." He trailed off for a few seconds, as if he was searching for the right way to word the question on the tip of his tongue. “…Is it fun?"

"Fun is not the word for it. I have simply become accustomed to what l do."

Now it was your turn to ask Johnny questions, to find out a little more about him as a person. You had encountered few men like him, the fact that there was so much more to him than meets the eye was a driving force for your curiosity. Slowly, you allowed yourself to give in to your intrigue.

"What about you? Are there ever any moments in your life where you find yourself wishing that you weren't famous, but instead a normal person?"

Johnny was surprised by the question, at first. Despite all the interviews, Q&As and fan questions he’d undergone, nobody had really asked him such a thing. He paused for a few moments, humming as he delved deeper into his mind. His expression grew more and more pensive as he thought of an honest and serious response.

"Yeah. Sometimes I do." He took a breath, slumping back into his seat with a sigh. "Fame does come with its perks... but there are times when I do want a break. It can get tiring.”

You hummed in response, nodding your head as his answer sunk in. It was...surprisingly nice to have a civil conversation with him, without the added snark that usually came from you both. Johnny's whole arrogant playboy persona, a leading factor in your disdain towards him, was a direct result of his shining fame. The fact that there were times when he wished for a different life, it was actually surprising to hear.

You were really starting to view him less as Johnny Cage, the character, but more so as John Carlton, the man.

"You gonna fall for me now that you've seen a little of my softer side?" He asked, jolting you out of your reflection. You met his gaze, a toothy grin meeting you.

Okay. Once again, Johnny just couldn't help making some sort of flirtatious comment. Whether Johnny Cage or John Carlton, he was still a nuisance.

Your small smile quickly morphed into an irritated scowl. The interest surrounding your partner made you forget how annoying he could be.

"No." You responded, crossing your arms to your chest.

"Aww, no? Come on!” He teased further, continuing to grin at you. “Every girl I've ever met eventually falls for me, you're no different."

"Your imbecilic attempts at seducing me are futile; save your breath." You retort, looking at him with a slight scowl as the words left your mouth.

Johnny barked out a laugh, your sass was something that he could never get enough of. “Ah, c'mon, are you sure? I’m more charming than you give me credit for."

He took a moment to look out of the carriage window, turning back to face you with a sly smirk. "It'd be nice to see you melt in my arms."

You shuddered a little at his words, you couldn't help it. Your face contorted with disgust as the mental image of your body wrapped in Johnny's arms, intertwined with his own, flashed through your mind. No fucking way.

"See? You're already imagining yourself falling for me." He teased.

You didn't say anything in response, your scowl at his relentless pursuit of you spoke volumes. Once again, this asshat was getting on your nerves. It's almost like this was your thing, Johnny being annoying and you being annoyed.

"You look cute when you're mad, you know that?" He teased, shooting you a wink.

You just rolled your eyes, turning and looking away from him. You refocused your attention back to the rolling hills outside, a much better view to devote yourself to. You’d had your fill of Johnny and his antics, opting to stare out of the window and hopefully relax for the rest of the ride to the village...

...Which didn't last long because the carriage suddenly stopped.

Heavy footsteps could be heard making their way towards the interior. The collision of boots against the ground increased in volume as the owner came closer with each step. Before you or Johnny could say anything, the door of the carriage swung open.

Thankfully, you weren't under attack, or anything like that. All was fine, it was only Geras that was on the other side. He’d stopped because the journey was complete, that’s all. A little warning would've been nice, he was so abrupt.

Whatever, though. That’s not what his job is. He took a moment to let you both gather your bearings before he spoke up.

"Jade. Johnny. Good afternoon. We have arrived at your destination." His voice was as rough and raspy as always, his face neutral and emotionless as his blue eyes pierced through you both.

He stood to the side to make way for you both to exit the vehicle. Once you both were on your own feet, and after all of your cramped muscles were stretched out, you both began to take in your surroundings.

You were outside the village of Kakariko, or what was the village of Kakariko. The whole settlement, once teeming with life, now lay deserted. The small wooden houses, once inhabited by families, stood void of life. Overgrown vegetation was starting to creep along the cobblestone paths and the exterior of the empty buildings, reclaiming the spaces where the townsfolk once walked on and worked in.

A cold wind whispered through the abandoned streets, rustling the unkempt foliage. The bland, grey sky above cast such a dull light down below, making the town’s remains seem even more forlorn.

The carriage was parked on the peak of a hill, overlooking everything. Your breath steamed in the chilly air, your palms rubbing up and down your bare upper arms in an effort to combat the cold seeping through your skin.

For a bit, you just… stood there, in awe of the eerie sight before you. To see a place that was once so full of life to be completely abandoned sent a chill down your spine. In a way, this location was far more unsettling than the pyramid. Everything about this just felt... wrong.

"What the hell happened here?" Johnny was in a similar state of disbelief, though he was a bit more vocal with his thoughts. He turned to look at you, a look of confusion blanketed across his face.

"You think we're in the right place?"

"We are." The sound of Geras’ voice cut through the silence of the hills, abruptly answering Johnny’s question.

"This is Kakariko Village. Once a thriving settlement, it now lays devoid of life.”

He walked around the stationed horses, towards you both, taking a place in front of you both. "When the two of you have finished your investigation of this settlement, I shall be here to take you both back to Sun Do. I wish the both of you luck."

Johnny nodded in response, taking a look around the desolate, abandoned village once more before finally turning to face you.

"Well… guess there's no use in just standing here. Might as well get started."

"Agreed." You nodded, trying hard to not let your fear unease show.

With that, the two of you left Geras and walked off, headed for the village a few minutes away. Your mind flickered with a barrage of scenarios as you walked, you weren't quite sure what you would discover when you arrived...

...Or what was potentially waiting for you in the empty town.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Your combined footsteps were slightly muffled against the grass, tiny squelching noises being produced every time your soles came into contact with the ground. The silence was unsettling, creepy. The lack of any sound, other than your steps and the howl of the wind, was really starting to set Johnny on edge. He glanced over at you, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before he spoke up.

"You not even the least bit creeped out?"

"I am." You replied, not taking your eyes off of the buildings in front of you. The wind had a chill to it, making you shiver slightly as you wrapped your arms around your sides in an effort to retain body heat.

"This is incredibly unsettling. Whatever has occurred here cannot be good."

He huffed in agreement, his breath forming a small, white cloud as the chill wind swept across his face.

"Hopefully we can find some kind of clue that can give us a lead."

"Yes… hopefully."

Eventually, you both reached the centre of the settlement. Surrounding you two was what used to be a peaceful, bustling village… and now, it was little more than a desolate ghost town.

You were looking around, analysing every building for any signs of life. There were none. The entire village, save for a few crows, was completely empty. Besides maybe Geras, the two of you were the only souls around for miles… that you knew of.

The wind whipping through the empty streets blew some strands of hair in your face, something that framed and complemented your facial features quite beautifully. Johnny, despite being thoroughly creeped out, couldn't help but notice this.

"You know... we are all alone..." His voice was low, flirtatious. He leaned closer, a smirk growing on his face as he not so subtly raked his eyes over your armoured form.

At this, you took your attention off of the devoid buildings and towards Johnny, giving him a look of befuddlement mixed with exasperation. Was he serious?

“No one else around to hear us... or see us..." He took a step closer to you, closing the distance separating, his eyes not daring to leave yours.

In response, you took a step away from him, putting some space between yourself and the horndog by your side. Whilst he was looking at you with the filthiest intentions possible, you were looking at him like he had just said the dumbest thing in the world.

"Have you no shame? We’re on a mission."

Johnny let out an exaggerated sigh, pouting slightly at your words.

"Yeah, I know. All work, no play..."

He leaned against a nearby street light, looking you up and down once again with a cheeky smile.

“…But it would be a shame to let this opportunity go to waste."

“Mm, you’re disgusting.” You took a step closer to him, ignoring his dumb flirtatious smile.

"Now... I think we should split up. That way, we can cover the land more efficiently, and maybe find something valuable in the process."

His smile faltered slightly at your words. Splitting up wasn't his first choice, or his ideal choice, in terms of how to go forward. How would he be able to pester you, if he had to be apart from you? But… he had to admit, it would be the better way to proceed. Damn you and your tactics.

"Yeah, alright. Probably the more logical choice. But..." He leaned in a little, a smirk pulling at his lips. "...don't miss me too much."

"Right..." You were so over this man, it was hilarious. "I will search the eastern half of the village, you can search the western half. How does that sound?"

He pushed himself up off of the pole he was leaning on, standing straight again. "Yeah, sure. I’ll take the west side, you take the east. Just try not to get lost, okay?"

You nodded in confirmation. With that, you both parted ways, heading deeper into the village, commencing your search.

Kakariko Village was actually quite a small settlement, only appearing to house a few hundred inhabitants. Compared to Sun Do, this place was tiny. It only took you both some minutes of walking through its streets to get to the village centre. If you each focused, you both could probably complete a thorough search of the whole place in about an hour or so.

Well, if nothing went wrong, that is.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Johnny was mindlessly walking past empty houses, his hands shoved in his pockets as he looked around for clues or anything out of the ordinary.

The silence surrounding… it was just so creepy. Not being able to hear a single sound, except his own footsteps, was really beginning to weird him out. He would suddenly spin around from time to time, jumping back to face the opposite direction, just in case anything tried to sneak up on him or whatever.

It wasn’t long before he found himself standing in front of an abandoned house. The door was slightly ajar, a small sliver of the interior peeking out from the gap. Having nothing better to do, Johnny decided to cautiously take a peek inside.

Just like its surroundings, the inside of the building was completely void of life. The interior resembled a typical village home, one that a family probably lived in. The floorboards of the home creaked a little under Johnny's weight as he leaned in, aiming to get a better view of the place.

Once he confirmed that the coast was clear, he slowly pushed the door open, wincing at the loud creaking sound the hinges made. He took a few quiet steps inside, glancing around intently.

The home, though abandoned, still somewhat held the warmth of a once well-lived-in family house. The place stood frozen in time, nothing about it indicated that the inhabitants left in a haste. A large stone fireplace, now cold and covered in a thin layer of dust, dominated the room.

Worn furniture, including a cushy sofa and a few simple beds, sat preserved, their colours slightly faded. Handmade quilts and crocheted throws, once bright, lay draped over the home’s chairs, adding muted splashes of colour and texture.

Shelves lined with books, trinkets, and family photos told stories of years gone by. The wooden floorboards, polished smooth by countless footsteps, creaked softly under every step. The dinner table, the heart of the large room, had an aura of character to it. Crude cutlery was dotted around the surface of the table, sitting on top of a handmade cloth.

The daylight streaming through the small, paned windows, cast a dim glow on the cluttered space. Johnny could see all the dust particles floating in the beams of light, he could even see some cobwebs in the ceiling’s corners. Though paused, every corner of the home spoke of a life humbly lived.

Despite the place being abandoned, the warm aura of the family that inhabited the home still lingered in the air. There was something about this small home that was so intriguing to him, it was such a nice break from the creepiness of the empty village outside. He ran his hand over the dining table, feeling the smooth wood underneath his bare fingertips.

He leaned against the wall, letting out a soft sigh as he crossed his arms to his chest. This home… it was so strangely inviting, despite being seemingly abandoned. He could sense all the love... all the happiness that once filled this home. This was technically part of his search, so it’s not like he was slacking off, right?

Johnny continued to explore the home out of sheer curiosity. He walked around the space, eyes dancing around the various trinkets and items lined up on the shelves. He was curious, wondering who used to live here.

A picture perched on a nearby shelf caught his attention. He picked it up, brushing off the layer of dust that covered the frame. His eyes narrowed as he studied the image before him.

A photo of a family of five; a mother, a father, and three children, smiling happily was what met his curious sight. This picture and its framing were so crude, yet Johnny could sense all the sentimental value it held. The actual photo itself was worn with age, small stains were dotted around the artefact to prove it. In a way, this just made the item more heartwarming, something so simple yet something so cherished. He couldn't help but smile, feeling strangely warm from what was before him. A genuine reaction of happiness spread across his face, so unlike the dumb smirks he always shot your way.

The happy family, all smiling brightly with their arms around each other in the photo, was familiar to him in such a heartwarming way. His focus was now solely on the item in his hands. Though… after a bit, something about this picture made the warm smile on his face slowly shift into a slight frown. His face dropped, the sweet happiness draining from his eyes.

This was all reminding him of his own family.

Ah. He hadn’t expected anything as simple as a picture to hit him in the heart, honestly. The family in the photo looked so happy, so content. And yet… he couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy, bitter jealousy, as he continued to stare at them.

They were… they were just like his own family, down to the last detail. Right before his mother died of cancer, before his father switched from loving to abusive. Before the bitter rivalry between him and Jimmy formed. Before him and Rebecca drifted apart, back when he was convinced that they’d be close forever…

A drop of something onto the picture snapped Johnny out of his thoughts. It was a tear, a tear from him.

Nooo no no no. This can’t be happening. He’s Johnny Cage, he DOESN’T cry. This damn photo, pulling on his heartstrings like this, serving as a stupid reminder of what was once the happy Carlton family. A family… that was now in pieces.

Why did it have to turn out like this?

Johnny couldn't believe what he was doing. He was crying, over a simple picture? A simple picture of a family that he didn't even know? It was pathetic. It was stupid. But he couldn't stop himself.

"Dammit.." He muttered, trying hard to control himself. He held the picture tightly, his hands shaking slightly. He cursed under his breath at the overwhelming wave of emotions coursing through him, it was pathetic. It was stupid. It was all so… ugh. He didn’t even know these people, for fuck’s sake. But… he couldn't stop himself.

No. He was not doing this. Not now, not today. This was a mission, not a therapy session. What would his fans think? What would you think?

He shakily wiped the tear falling down his cheek away with his hand. He used the other one to gently place the picture back down onto the shelf it previously sat on. He took a deep breath in, trying to calm the volatile seas that were his emotions. After taking a moment to push the feelings back down compose himself, he took one final look around the house. There was nothing out of the ordinary, it was just a regular home. He had a whole half of a village to search, there’s no use in wasting time in one singular building.

After one last glance at the picture now on the shelf, he quietly walked away and out of the home, carefully closing the door behind him. He felt a strange sense of melancholy as he walked down the street outside, one that he tried his best to ignore.

As he continued his search, he tried his hardest to push the memory of that family picture out of his mind, or at least to the back of it. He couldn’t afford to let anything distract him from the mission at hand. That family was not his own and had nothing to do with him.

He had a job to do.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

On the other side of the village, you were diligently enacting your part of the search. You were laser-focused, quickly but efficiently searching every building that you came across. There had to be something related to why the residents of Kakariko disappeared. Your mind was solely on the mission assigned to you, nothing else mattered right now.

Some time had passed. You had thoroughly searched around half of the eastern side, a quarter of the village. So far, you’d found next to nothing suggesting how all of the townsfolk had disappeared. None of the empty homes indicated that their respective residents left in a hurry, everything was preserved.

However, there was something. In every other house, a few small, sharp white stones could be found on the floor. They resembled the teeth of a predator, small sharp fangs. Could they be actual teeth? No, impossible. No Outworlders teeth were that long nor that sharp. They had to be something else, although you couldn’t think of a similar substitute. Perhaps some sort of bizzare cultural practice? Oh well, you were sure to find more answers if you just kept searching.

You had just come across a certain structure. It was too large to be a home, it must’ve been a public building or something similar. You walked around its exterior, looking for anything that was out of the ordinary. When you didn’t find anything of interest, she walked over to the open entrance and cautiously stepped inside, your hand hovering over your compacted bō staff strapped to your hip, just in case anyone or anything suddenly jumped out at you.

The interior of this building seemed to be a library of sorts. Large bookshelves lined the walls and singular books were haphazardly spread around the tables dotted around the space, some were even strewn out on the floor. There were certain items on the tables, you recognised those as instruments of magic. Someone was performing sorcery here, though it was unclear what their intentions were.

You cautiously stepped around the library, your eyes darting around the room for signs of something, anything. The magical items on the tables caught your eye, you walked up to them and carefully began to analyse these objects. You possessed some knowledge of magic and sorcery, thanks to the monks of the Wu Shi and the mages of Empress Sindel’s palace. But you were no grand magician. You were staring blankly at the devices before you, unable to deduct their purpose. All you could tell were that these instruments were magical in nature.

You couldn't help but shiver as you continued to look around the library. The atmosphere was just so eerie. The lack of people around, coupled with the silence, made your skin crawl. And this place in particular was just downright creepy. It didn't have the usual cozy feel that most libraries have - instead, everything about this space was just… unnerving.

The books around were a good start in searching this room, you figured. You picked up one of them off of the nearest bookshelf and flipped through some of the pages, skimming the text. Some of the pages contained spells, but this didn’t alarm you that much. Magic was common practice throughout Outworld, these grimoires could’ve just belonged to the village mage or something. It was a little irritating that you couldn’t understand the text before you, though.

You continued your reading, your hands darting out to any book near you. There’s a very good chance that sorcery played a hand in the disappearance of Kakariko’s residents, you couldn’t rule anything out.

Whilst you were walking around, you kept accidentally stepping on small white stones, just like the ones you saw in a few of the empty houses. They were tiny, easy to miss, but still everywhere regardless. Damn it, what were they? Why were they in nearly every building in this village?

They were really starting to make you frustrated, there were so many of them that you struggled to walk around properly. Unlike the empty houses, there were more of these stones in this library. Somehow, these stones and this building were related. This was something of interest, although you were a little too ticked off to realise this.

Your focus switched from the books of sorcery over to the strange floor stones. It would switch again when a loud shuffling sound cut through the silence behind you.

Quickly, you spun around, drawing your staff and taking on a fighting stance. You were now on edge, hyper-aware of your surroundings, intense amounts of adrenaline were coursing through your veins, you forced yourself to be ready to take on whatever may be potentially lurking behind you.

Thankfully, it wasn’t a person or anything preparing to enact a sneak attack upon you. No, the origin of the noise was a book dropping. You, in your rummaging hastiness, had placed a book right on the edge of a table. As so, it toppled over and came crashing down to the floor. The shuffling sound was the book slowly sliding off of the table, its weight wasn’t balanced enough.

You sighed, folding away and strapping your bō back onto your hip. You keeled over, your hands coming to rest on her knees. You were quick enough in turning around to see that book falling onto the floor. A small laugh slipped past you, between lungfuls of air. You weren’t mad, rather the opposite. Something so insignificant as a book falling getting that big of a reaction out of you made her chuckle. It was so stupid, it was comical. Save for Johnny on the other side, there was nobody in this village. Who could possibly be gearing up to attack you? This was just a subtle reminder from the Elder Gods to stop being so on edge, you thought.

However, the jumpscares of today weren’t finished with you yet. As you stepped back slightly, in order to scour the rest of the bookshelf behind, your boot landed on a ‘book’ on the floor. Expect, it wasn’t really a book. It was a hidden mechanism, a secret button that sank into the floor as you pressed your weight onto it. You’d unknowingly triggered something, and you were about to find out what that something was.

The sound of a mechanism came to life, metal grinding and cranking below. Loud rumbling, so loud that it practically echoed throughout the entire library, cried out.

“Fuck!” You jolted back, literally jumping in the air at the sudden sound.

There was a pause for a little bit. Everything was quiet, for a moment. Then, the sound of loud grinding came from the floor.

A circle in the floor opened up. The wood around the shape split apart, opening to reveal a staircase leading downwards, into the ground. The new entrance was dark and foreboding, almost like it was inviting you to step inside.

You slowly made your way to the top of the staircase, your hand hovering over your bō staff. You peered down, into the darkness below. It was dark enough that you needed some time to properly focus on the details of the space below, but you could still see the end of the staircase, and how it led to a large door.

Unfortunately, Liu Kang didn’t provide you and Johnny with flashlights before you departed, he didn’t see the use for it. You had to investigate this secret staircase and hidden room in the dark.

Well, not completely in the dark. Thankfully, your bō had a slight green illumination from it. As well as serving as a weapon, it could also serve as a makeshift light source in the void down below. How handy!

Re-equipping your staff, you cautiously ventured down the stairs. Your weapon did indeed provide some illumination, but barely. You were starting to have trouble seeing in front of you as you went deeper. You stuck it out, using the handy little thing as a makeshift cane to check for any obstacles obscuring.

The air started to become colder and more moist as you went on, almost as if you were walking into an actual dungeon. The atmosphere was creepy and unsettling, the perfect place for someone, or something, to ambush you. Maybe it would’ve been smart to run and get Johnny before going down here by yourself…

Eventually, you reached the door. It was large, at least eight feet tall, and cast in dark iron. It had a lock on it, only adding to the heap of mystery surrounding. This did nothing to deter you, though. You made quick work of the lock with your staff, a few strikes loosened it up nicely. After the hunk of metal was discarded, you slowly pushed the door open, peering inside to assess any potential dangers lurking on the other side.

You were greeted by the sight of… darkness. The entire space behind the door was almost completely void of light. The dim glow of your staff was nowhere near strong enough to combat the void, you could barely see anything in front of you. The only thing that you could make out was a tiny light coming from the other end of the room, but you couldn’t tell what the source was.

You cautiously took a few steps into the darkness, using your foot to prop the door open just in case you needed to run out screaming retreat. Under the light of your bō, you came across an unlit sconce on the wall. Striking the tip of your weapon on the metal of the sconce was able to generate enough sparks to light the torch. You got more than you bargained for, though. The sconce on the wall turned out to be magical; it was built to be connected to all the other sconces in the darkness. As soon as you lit up one, all the others followed suit, dispersing the darkness around you.

The new light revealed a grotesque laboratory. A twisted chamber of horrors that housed eyesore upon eyesore. Dim, flickering torches cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, revealing a space filled with the macabre results of twisted experiments.

Rows of grimy, blood-stained tables lined the room, each cluttered with crude surgical instruments and sprawled-out notes. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of chemicals. The smell alone made you retch on the spot. Broken and rusted chains hung from the ceiling, some still clinging to skeletal remains or dismembered body parts. The floor was slick with a mix of blood, viscera, and unidentifiable goo, making each step a nauseating journey.

In one corner, there was a large metal cage, something was inside of it. It was too far away for you to get a clear view of its contents, though. It’s not like that cage was the worst part of this room, pretty much everything in the space was as disgusting as could be. There were literally more stains on the floor and walls than there were clean spots

So this was what was hidden under Kakariko Village.

There was no time to run and get Johnny, this needed to be investigated now. Reluctantly, you ventured further. You used a nearby chair to lodge the door open, just in case you needed to make a hasty escape. Looking around the space was tasking on your eyes, unimaginable horrors met your sight with every head turn.

Those little white stones were weirdly all over the place, much more so than the library above. They were littered across the floor, so much so that you had to kick them out of the way to step around freely.

When you finally walked over to the cage in the corner, you quite literally jumped back in fear. A loud yelp came from you as your body leapt backwards, your eyes couldn’t believe what was in front of them. Your brain refused to accept what lie before you.

It was a Tarkatan!

A dead one, but still one regardless. It was completely hairless, and its skin was red and heavily irritated. The only thing it wore was a small rag covering its crotch. What it died of was unclear, but it was completely unresponsive and slumped over against the wall.

When the initial shock wore off, you cautiously stepped closer to analyse the body. Your eyes settled on its teeth and, by the Gods, they were identical to those stones around the floor of the village buildings. Those ‘stones’ were in fact Tarkatan teeth!

A thick bolt of worry ran down your spine. All those sharpened molars, the ones that you had kicked around just minutes earlier…

You couldn’t look at the corpse any longer, out of fear that you might throw up. You had seen all that needed to see of the body, looking at it further made you feel queasy. You stepped away from the cage, hastily looking around the rest of the laboratory in search of anything else. The missing villagers, the secret underground facility, the dead Tarkatan, what could it all mean? Somehow, someway, everything correlated.

All the notes strewn around on the table next to you caught your eye, quickly walking over to see them. They were damp with something, but you were past caring by this point. You rapidly searched around the table, skimming through all the notes you could get ahold of. Research was written all over the pieces of paper, detailing something to do with Tarkat and an infection. This was strange… Tarkat was a disease, not an infection. What could all of this mean?

And that’s when you found it. A leather-bound book under a few damp sheets. You rapidly brushed the pieces of paper off of the item, and once again stumbled back in shock of what you found.

The cover of the book had a mark on it; the insignia of the infamous sorcerer Shang Tsung.

A chill ran down your spine. The symbol of the sorcerer, right on the cover of this book, was a clear indication of who was behind the horrors around you. He had his hand in this, everything made sense now. The only question left was… what exactly had happened?

You reluctantly opened the book. The first page detailed a record. It was a list of names, presumably villagers that were compromised by Tarkat. You turned the page to find that the book was being used as a journal of some sorts, documenting Shang Tsung’s findings and progress with whatever had occurred here. You were now in the process of studying the journal’s entries, eager to find out something, anything. It read as following:

“Day 1.”

“I have successfully moved into the small village of Kakariko. The locals think me a travelling merchant, in desperate need of shelter. They welcomed me with open arms, even giving me a small home to reside in for the time being.”

“This is the perfect location for what I have planned; small and remote enough that no one will notice if a few people go missing, but large enough that I’ll have plenty of live subjects. I plan to set up all of my equipment in the morning, as well as construct an underground facility to carry out my work in secrecy.”

To say that you were sickened wouldn’t be surprising. Onto the next page…

“Day 3.”

“Kakariko Village is small enough that I’m now somewhat familiar with the layout of the settlement. I have become aware of the local library, a place that few villagers visit day to day. It will be the perfect place to construct a laboratory. I plan to start construction late at night, whilst everyone is asleep.”

Next page.

“Day 10.”

“My facility is just about complete, a secret mechanism serves as an entry point to the room. Truly, some of my finest work. With this, I am now ready to commence my work, I have already selected some villagers to experiment on once I possess a prototype of the infection.”

Ah. Next page…

“Day 22.”

“I am pleased to write that I already possess a few prototypes of my Tarkat infection. The material I drew from Princess Mileena has proved most useful. Finding out that the teeth of the compromised are a rich source of the disease was most surprising. I will be sure to capitalise on this.”

“Tarkat, as it stands, is merely a disease. One that is slow to show symptoms, and even slower to fully take effect. Such circumstances will not do, I plan to create a version that is an infection. I aim for this infection to be highly contagious, transforming the infected into a beast within seconds. When perfected, this shall be the perfect weapon. General Shao will be most pleased.”

Your heart sank at this. General Shao? Shang Tsung? Together? Such a dark revelation had your stomach churning. This was the most horrible wake-up call you’ve ever experienced in your life. You could barely bring yourself to turn the page.

“Day 29.”

“I have already commenced testing how live subjects react to the exposure of my Tarkat infection. So far, it is not what I had hoped. The beasts that come as a result of exposure are too docile. After mutation occurs, they are mostly entranced by a state of confusion, unfit for any form of kombat. No matter, I have nothing but time ahead of me. I will iron out these kinks, and perfect this infection.”

Next page.

“Day 32.”

“Much to my dismay, I am now experiencing the opposite of my prior problem. When infected, the beasts are now too aggressive to reason with. After mutation, the Tarkatans are rendered mindless, too feral to take commands. They barbarically attack any form of life they set their eyes on, even if said life is other Tarkatans.”

“What’s more, the villagers are starting to grow aware that something is happening in the shadows. They are noticing how the population of Kakariko is dropping. If found out, this could prove detrimental to my plan. I must quicken my research, and perfect this infection as soon as possible.”

Next page.

“Day 40.”

“Slowly, the infection is meeting my expectations. Once mutated, the Tarkatans display extreme ferocity, ripping through anything in their path, but not to a degree in which they are impossible to reason with. It is a difficult task, but now entirely possible to tame one of these beasts.”

“Unfortunately, I am starting to run out of test subjects. By now, all of Kakariko is aware of its dwindling population. As such, it had become increasingly difficult to obtain live test subjects, without exposing myself and my true intentions. No matter, I am close to perfecting this infection. It is only a matter of time.”

Next page.

“Day 41.”

“Yet again more unfortunate news. Whilst I was working today, one of the test subjects escaped. It ripped out the chains confining it to the wall, and ran up the staircase to the outside.”

You paused from reading to look at the wall to your side. Indeed, it had indentations plastered on it, the sign of struggle evident. A sigh slipped past you as you lowered your head to continue reading.

“As I ran to capture it, a little village boy had witnessed everything. His eyes were wide with shock upon seeing the beast and me. Unfortunately, he was too quick to catch. The menace ran out of the library, no doubt on his way to tell the other villagers what he saw. Hopefully, this will not be my undoing, not when I’m so close to perfecting the infection.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest now. You could feel it slamming against your ribcage with each fearful beat. Shaking fingers turned the page.

“Day 42.”

“I have been found out, Kakariko is no longer safe for me. A large crowd was gathered at my door this morning, eager for my head. Thankfully, I was able to escape unscathed. There is no choice but for me to flee, and take haven somewhere else.”

“I am gathering up everything I can in this facility. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to abandon it. This location is no longer suitable for me to conduct my work. A shame, truly.”

“As for the villagers, they too will have to be dealt with. Such tales of me and my work cannot reach the ears of the Royal Family, not yet at least. I shall continue my work somewhere else, and finally perfect the Tarkat weapon.”

You turned the page to read more, but there was nothing. That was the last entry, and now you finally understood the whole story.

The disappearance of the villagers was all Shang Tsung’s doing. The madman is planning to weaponise Tarkat, and he used Kakariko as a testing ground. The disappearance of the villagers? Likely victims of his dark magic. Now Shang Tsung was at large, somewhere within Outworld working on his deadly project. Not only that, but he’s working with disgraced General Shao too. That machine back in the pyramid? No doubt his vile work.

Your mind was filled with a mix of horror and determination. This was all too much, truly. The onslaught of information had you sweating buckets, droplets of moisture dotted your forehead as a result of the sheer shock that you were under.

You closed the book, slowly recoiling backwards as you tried to comprehend everything. Shang Tsung, this Tarkat infection, the presumably dead villagers, General fucking Shao? This was all just so-

The feeling of your back hitting the wall shook you slightly, jolting you back to reality. Instinctively, your hands reached out to stop your body from falling over.

And that’s when you felt a prick on your finger.

You hissed a little, the sudden feeling sending a jolt of pain through your being. You brought your finger up to eye level, grimacing at the sight of your now-pierced skin. A small bead of blood was already forming on your fingertip, threatening to run down your whole hand.

You turned around to see what had wounded you. Your eyes focused on a small spike on the table behind you, the tip of it now already tinged red by your blood. You cursed under your breath, wincing slightly as you examined your injury. It didn't look too serious, but it hurt like hell.

No matter, there were more important manners at hand than a pinprick. You had to find Johnny, get back to Sun Do as quickly as possible, to tell Liu Kang all that you had found. Pocketing Shang Tsung’s journal, you raced out of the laboratory, running up the stairs and out of the library with haste.

By now, it was late afternoon. The cloudy sky overhead was starting to part, revealing the glimmer of the afternoon sun. The wood of Kakariko’s buildings shone brilliantly under the light of the sun, somewhat subsiding the previous creepy aura of the village.

Not that you took notice. No, you had to find Johnny as soon as possible, and inform him of all that you had discovered.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After his little moment, Johnny distracted himself by searching through the western half of the village. There wasn’t really much to find, apart from these weird white rocks on the floor of some houses. By the time he was done scouring his portion of Kakariko, there was nothing really to do.

He would walk around the empty streets, his hands in his pockets and his focus lowered as he kicked rocks out of boredom. He hadn’t seen you for about a couple of hours now, he was thinking about you and how you were doing. He missed your beautiful face, and the way you would scowl at him after he said something to piss you off. How your hair flowed in the wind, how your uniform was perfect for your body, how well your breastplate cupped your-

His lewd thoughts were suddenly cut off when you came into view. Finally, you were back! He was so excited to see you again, oh how blissfully unaware he was of what happened. He was so happy to see you that he didn’t even take notice of how fast you were walking and how intense your expression was at first. Ah, that’s just classic you!

“Aaa, there she is! So what, did ya miss-"

“Shut the fuck up.” You were never in the mood for Johnny or his antics, but you were especially not tolerant of him after what you had just discovered. You didn’t even care to ask what he had found in his time searching around the village, whatever it was was probably far less important.

“Listen. I found something.”

He was admittedly slightly taken aback by your aggression. Not that it really bothered him, though. He’d gotten used to your iciness, but the fact that you were acting stranger than usual did pique his interest.

"Oh yeah? And what’s that, exactly?” He folded his arms, waiting for you to speak. Your no-nonsense attitude and seriousness… it made you even hotter in his eyes.

You knew that Johnny was blatantly checking you out, but you honestly didn’t care. Your mind was solely focused on Shang Tsung and Shang Tsung alone. You looked around for a second, as if to check for something, before turning back to speak to him.

“…Shang Tsung was here.”

His expression changed instantly. Now his interest was fully piqued.

"Wait, what? You serious?” He asked, unfolding his arms and raising a suspicious eyebrow. “You got proof?"

You nodded, bringing out the journal from behind your back. You handed it to Johnny, concern plastered all over your face.

“Read this. It’ll catch you up to speed.”

He was intrigued. He slowly took the journal from you, opening it gingerly. Johnny had a bad habit of skimming through pages and skipping lines whenever he read, but with the sheer amount of information here, paired with your intensity, he actually forced himself to slow down and take his time with this.

Meanwhile, whilst Johnny was flicking through Shang’s journal, you started to feel a little… off. Your injured finger was starting to really hurt, and you were beginning to feel so overheated, despite being outside. Your mind was slightly fuzzy, the effort to concentrate on your thoughts became increasingly harder. Ah, no matter. It was probably all the stress that was under, nothing more. You’ll be fine… right?

He took some time to properly read through the journal’s content, his eyes widening with each turn of a page. Finally, he finished reading, shutting the book and looking up at you in disbelief and shock. Confusion would also be added to his mix of emotions when he took notice of you. You were acting weird… like, weirder than usual.

"You alright, Jade? You look… I dunno, like you’re sweating a lot. Also, you’re not scowling. You got a fever or something?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” You quickly responded, wiping the accumulating sweat off of your forehead. This wasn’t the time for checkups. You were fine and he was fine. The focus should be on Shang Tsung, not whatever you had going on.

“There’s this secret laboratory, right under the village library.” You looked away from Johnny for a minute, pointing in the direction of the library. “It’s opened by some sort of mechanism, that’s where I found the room and the journal.”

"Cool, cool… a secret lab? This is some James Bond shit right here.” He nodded, following your finger and turning to look in the direction you were pointing at. “How do we get to it?”

He glanced over at you. "And how’d you even find it anyway?”

“Some sort of… button… I stepped on…” You were starting to find it hard to speak. You were getting so warm, like you were in a furnace or something. Your head felt so fuzzy, and your finger was throbbing like crazy. What was happening?

“Mmm… you’re acting weird.” He stated bluntly. Johnny took a step closer to you, his eyes narrowing on your flushed face. This was so out of the ordinary for someone like you, he was honestly a little concerned.

"You’re sweating a lot. And you’re stuttering your words. Seriously, are you sick or something?”

“I’m… fine…”

A lie, an unconvincing one at that. You were stumbling around now, it was a struggle to stand still. You shut your eyes for a bit - when you re-opened them, your gaze fell onto a concerned Johnny. To you, there was something about him that just looked… delicious.

You composed yourself, standing up straight as you cleared your throat. You couldn’t afford to make a fool out of yourself, especially considering who was in front of you. Whatever was going on, you would just have to put up with it.

“…Yes, I’m alright. I’m just a little tired.” You pointed in the distance, the direction in which you both came from.

“Geras is waiting for us. We’ve found all that there is to this mystery. We need to go back to Sun Do and tell Liu Kang of Shang Tsung and his intentions immediately.”

"A little tired"? Yeah right…

Johnny didn’t believe a word out of you, he saw straight through your lies. Still, he chose not to question you. You were so damn stubborn, you would just double down anyways, there was no point. But, he was still concerned.

"Yeah, you’re right.” He sighed, mostly out of defeat. “Let’s go tell Liu Kang. Maybe he can-“

He was interrupted by a sudden coughing fit coming from you. You keeled over, your body heaving as cough after cough came out of you.

This lasted for some seconds. When your outburst finished, you looked back up to an even more concerned Johnny.

For a bit, you just… stared at him, looking him up and down. Johnny, being the idiot that he is, took that as a sign that you were into him, a small smirk forming on his lips in the process.

"What? You checking me out?” He teased, his smirk widening into a smug grin. He held his hands behind his back as he did, showing off more of his figure.

But… it wasn’t like that. To you, he looked delectable. Not like an attractive man, no, but like a well-seasoned piece of meat. A dark hunger started to stir within your belly.

Though, Johnny’s arrogance, as well as his stupid posing, snapped you out of your trance. Whatever was going on, he had broken you out of it by being his usual self.

“Ugh, Gods no…” You muttered, stretching slightly and wiping the sweat off of your forehead, despite already having done so a minute earlier.

“Come on, we should head back to Geras.”

"Hey, you’re lucky. Any other woman would be drooling at this body.” He quipped, pointing at himself as he gave you the biggest, most arrogant grin, one that faltered a little as he noticed how pale you were becoming.

“Then they have no standards…” You muttered again as you walked past him, trying to ignore the beads of sweat already forming again on your forehead.

"Right, you’re going to tell me that even you don’t think I’m attractive?” He followed behind you, snickering slightly at your jab towards him.

That was when you stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him. Your eyes darkened as you started to… growl at him? A deep, guttural noise emanated from your core, you looked at him like a predator would prey. Your damp brows furrowed as you bared your teeth, like some sort of cornered animal.

“Whoa, whoa!” Johnny exclaimed, his eyes widening, his hands shooting up defensively. “The hell’s gotten into you?! I was only messing with you, damn!”

His shocked reaction snapped you out of whatever was going on. You realised what you were doing, looking down out of confusion. Your overheated temperature, your dizziness, your sudden hunger, what the fuck was happening?

When you looked back up at a confused, borderline scared Johnny, that hunger returned. Gods, he looked soooo good, like a piece of perfectly seasoned steak. The thought of what his flesh would taste like sprouted in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you just-

Focus! For the Gods sake! This was your teammate! What the hell has gotten into you? Something was wrong, you needed to get back to Sun Do immediately and seek out medical attention. You’d probably picked up a bug or something from that filthy laboratory, you wouldn’t rule it out.

“…Sorry.” You mumbled, looking down out of shame. “Don’t know what’s coming over me…”

"You’re… uh, fine. You just gotta chill out, alright?” Johnny spoke hesitantly, keeping a cautious eye on you just in case you snapped again.

“Mhm...” You hummed in agreement, meeting his gaze as he stepped a little closer to you. You tried your best to push your sudden cannibalistic thoughts about him to the back of your mind, you really did, but by the Gods it was getting hard.

This was no place to linger. The two of you started the walk back to Geras’ carriage. It was only a few minutes away, it’s not like you were going to be trekking for miles. It wouldn’t be long before you’d be safely on the way back to Sun Do, nothing else would be happening in the meantime… right?

As you walked out of the village, and along the grassy hills, your cannibalistic thoughts became too much to ignore. By this point, your pupils were inhumanly dilated. Your eyes were glued to this fine piece of meat in front of you, you were looking at Johnny like a starving kid would their favourite meal. He looked tantalising, so tempting.

Your pricked finger was swollen by this point. It hurt like a bitch, but your current fixation on Johnny distracted you from some of the pain. You held your inflamed finger in your other hand, caressing it slightly as you stared your companion down. By now, the sweat from your forehead was dripping down your face, the front strands of your hair now slightly wet as a result. Not that you cared, though. Your mind was so cloudy that it was impossible to focus on a single thought…

…Except how appetising Johnny looked.

He looked soooo good, sooo sweet. How good would he taste if you just took a bite out of him? You licked your lips, running your tongue over your teeth in the process. Weird… were your teeth always that sharp?

An uncomfortable few minutes passed by. Uncomfortable for Johnny, that was. He could feel your gaze on him, it made his skin prick. You looked crazy, like a drug addict going through withdrawal symptoms. He was honestly really worried, both for you and his own safety. There was a look in your eyes that shook him to the bone, every time he glanced back at you and made eye contact, he would regret it.

Before you both knew it, you had reached the carriage. Geras, who was sitting on a rock right next to the vehicle, met your approaching gaze. He hopped up, walking around the horses to greet you both.

"You are both back quite early. Everything went smoothly, I trust?”

You would usually greet Geras back, you liked the construct. But this time, you didn’t even say anything in response. Your eyes were still locked onto Johnny, slightly baring your teeth and curling your fingers like you had claws. You wanted to pry that suit off of him, like his meat sack body was some sort of macabre present. The need to do so was getting harder to resist by the second.

Johnny, having now turned around to face you, saw your condition clearly for the first time. He saw the sweat, the dilated pupils, the twisted smile, everything. You were looking at him like a hungry tiger eyeing a bleeding, half-dead gazelle. All of it had him scared shitless.

“Are you well, Jade?” Geras asked, keeping a wary eye on you. He’d caught on to what was going on by now, his eyebrow raising and his concern growing.

A guttural noise was emitting from your throat, your lock on your next snack Johnny never once daring to falter. He gave Geras a look, one of fear, one that the construct seemed to understand immediately as he took a step closer to you.

Out of nowhere, your feral snarl morphed into a frown of discomfort, then one of pain. You keeled over, clutching your stomach like it was being ripped open. Your groans of discomfort turned into screams of pain, so much so that you were now kneeling on the grass, yelling out loudly. Your body felt like it was on fire and your jaw hurt like hell.

In this process, your eyes snapped shut. Neither Johnny or Geras could see your brown pupils turn red, nor could they see your irises morph into thin lines.

“What’s wrong?!” Johnny was now beyond worried for you, his previous fear now totally overridden by overwhelming concern. He ran to your crouched form, kneeling down and grabbing your shoulders, Geras following after him.

You didn’t respond, you couldn’t respond. The pain coursing through your body was so intense that you didn’t even hear him correctly. Your screams of pain started to carry a… certain roughness to them? Your usual sweet voice was starting to sound deep, rough.

And your jaw, by the Gods. It hurt so much. Like it was changing or something. It felt like something sharp was starting to rip through your lower face. Not that either Johnny or Geras could tell. Your head was buried in your arms, a futile attempt at easing your searing pain.

Johnny didn’t know what the hell to do. Never in his years had he seen a person react in such a way. This went far beyond a simple “not feeling well”, this was a damn otherworldly phenomenon.

“Geras, is there anything you can do?! Literally ANYTHING!!” He looked over to him, he was practically shouting now.

“Take her into the carriage, we must get to Sun Do as fast as possible!” He frantically answered, a weird change from his usual emotionless demeanour.

Johnny immediately followed Geras‘ command, scooping you up into his arms. He ran to the carriage, carrying you inside before gingerly setting you down on one of the seats.

Well… that’s what he would’ve done. Instead, when he went to pick you up, you swatted his hand away with a grunt, looking up at him in the process, revealing just what had happened to you.

Your… by the Gods. Your beautiful face was completely deformed. Your big brown eyes were now red, cat-like and buzzing with ferocity. Your lips were nowhere to be seen, the lower half of your face was replaced by rows of razor-sharp, jagged teeth, resembling those of a Tarkatan. This gruesome dental display was such a nasty shock to both Johnny and Geras, a loud scream came from the former as the two men stumbled back in shock.

You were infected with Tarkat.

A/N: lmfao not the cliffhanger ending-

jokes aside i really liked this one :) i had a lot of fun writing this and this is lowkey one of my fav group of scenes so far in this long ass story

now to start on chapter 6…

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat x reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 x you #mortal kombat imagine #shang tsung #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage x you #johnny cage smut #fanfic #johnny and jade

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