#phil if you’re listening | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

murdrdocs · 5 months

Text

death do us part

description. there's murders happening at camp half blood, and you and LUKE CASTELLAN care about them. really, you do. but you can't help but sneak off and break a few of the rules of survival laid out by luke's brother. besides, what's really the worst thing that can happen?

includes. SMUT 18+, mutual masturbation (kinda), oral (f receiving), fingering, handjobs, mentions of vibrators (m and f receiving), shower sex, some mentions of death, subby luke vibes, dom reader vibes, whipped luke, situationships, slightly bitchy reader

wc. 3.4k+

a/n: art is record separator by phil hale. barely edited

Both of you are being selfish.

Distantly, in the back of your mind beneath the raging hormones perhaps, you’re aware that this is not only disrespectful but also irresponsible.

Luke’s brother’s words ring in your head, reminding you over and over again.

You had been sitting around an unsanctioned campfire at the time, a dozen or so of you all passing around bottles of alcohol that had been snuck in by one of Luke’s younger siblings who was desperate to impress and please all of you. With the buzz taking over your body and providing a general feeling of elation, you must admit that they impressed you. Maybe Luke too, who was surely delighted to have you all over him. Your little game of cat and mouse was finally coming to an end, likely spurred on by the havoc that had taken over Camp Half-Blood. Everyone was on edge, wondering who was next. Because according to Chris and a few other kids who were slasher fanatics, there would be a next. And soon.

Which is likely why all of you were down by the shore and letting off steam. Simply existing before something happened by the time the sun rose.

Usually, come morning you would blame your touchiness towards Luke on alcohol. But now, if either of you made it to the morning, you swore you would stop playing hard to get, throw caution to the wind, and kiss him during first daylight, a signifier that your relationship, whatever was going on between you two, withstood the test of the night and could now be official.

You two could do it. If that was tipsy delusion or rationale talking, you didn’t know.

All you knew was that Chris Rodriquez was definitely drunk, but there had to be some truth to his words.

“Listen, listen.” He stood, raising his beer bottle as if he were about to toast. You hoped the bottle wasn’t empty yet, for Chris had a habit of pulling you all into a game of spin the bottle whenever he got like this. Sometimes, you didn’t mind it. Not when you got to kiss Luke. But watching Luke kiss someone else always left a sour taste on the back of your tongue.

When Chris took a swig, you sighed a bit and slunk further into Luke’s side.

“If we’re going to survive this–” each of you knew what he was talking about. The grieving families and empty beds made sure you each knew what was happening. “We’ll have to live by a set of rules.”

“Rules?” Luke spoke from beside you for the first time in a while. You turned to look at him and immediately got distracted. His scar shined in the warm lighting, the orange making the slight flush along his cheeks a little more distinct. His eyes were heavy. They were relaxed. He was relaxed, and the irony didn’t fly over your head.

Weirdly enough, you found yourself relaxed, too. Tucked into his side with his arm slung over your shoulder like the two of you were together. It was normal for you both to get like that late at night, but the difference in the air made it seem more sentimental.

Luke, likely sensing your staring, turned to look at you. He smiled just a bit, and you didn’t hesitate as you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The two of you separated soon enough to hear Chris’ rant.

“Yeah. Rules.” When no one around the bonfire seemed to understand what rules he was referring to, he took a swig of his beer, sat it on the log behind him, and stood on his soap box.

“There are a set of rules to surviving something like this. Rule number 1: never say you’ll be right back. Trust me, you won’t.”

One of the girls raised her hand, her face scrunched into a pout. Chris stopped to look at her, pointing a finger as an indicator for her to speak. “What do we say instead?”

Chris took a second. He hesitated, his dark and glassy eyes searching around him for an answer, then, “Just leave and come back. Don’t announce it.”

The answer seemed good enough for her and Chris continued.

“Rule number 2: don’t shower alone. This is just an invitation for the killer to sneak up on you, and slash you up. Next thing you know, we’re finding you stark naked.” This rule seemed to make sense for everyone else and no one spoke up. “Rule number 3: do not have sex. And if you’re a virgin, now is not the time to lose your virginity.”

This incited a low level of outrage from a few people around the camp. Your hand settled on Luke’s thigh, and you could feel him staring at you. Still, you continued to stare ahead at Chris.

“It’s not safe!” He exclaimed. “You’re left vulnerable, just like in rule 2, and for some reason, killers love to prey on the promiscuous. Just keep it in your pants until whoever is doing this is caught. That’s all. And rule 4, the most important one: never ever, ever go off alone. This will single you out and make you an easy target. You follow these rules, and maybe you’ll survive.”

Chris finished his rant, took a final swig of his beer, and sat back down.

Luke’s hand fell to your thigh. He ran his touch up and down once, and then squeezed your flesh twice. From the corner of your eye, you saw the grin grow on Luke’s face and turned to him. Neither of you had to say anything. Luke raised his eyebrows, smiled at you, and you nodded.

Luke opened his mouth to likely spew out some bullshit excuse, but everyone’s attention turned towards one of the kids sitting next to Chris who suddenly broke out of a stupor to protest Chris’ rules. Which left you and Luke an opening.

He took his arm from around your shoulder, placed his hand out for you to take, and then stood with you on his heels.

“Where’re you two going?” Silena asked from beside you.

You grinned down at her and communicated all you needed to in that one look. “To sleep. Chris said not to leave alone, right?”

She was clearly unconvinced, but she still nodded and kept her mouth shut.

And the two of you walked away to the sound of Chris pitching yet another spin-the-bottle game.

Which brought you here, in the bathrooms instead of your cabin. Your poorly formed excuse spoken to Luke was something along the lines of needing to scrub off the grime from the day, and especially the thick layer of bug spray that you’ve recently had to use. Some of the more superstitious kids in camp attributed the increase in bugs to the increase in deaths. You attributed it to a malfunction of the Mist.

You knew that Luke, being the gentleman that he is, wouldn’t dare let you shower alone. Not since his brother laid out the rules. You also knew that Luke, being as infatuated with you as he is, would take any chance he could to get with you, even if it was selfish and irresponsible.

But you don’t think he’s considering either factor right now as he’s kissing you as if he has a one-track mind.

One of the showers is running behind you. The two of you had originally been waiting for the water to turn hot, but that happened a while ago, and now Luke was keeping you busy in the center of the bathroom, his hands gratefully roaming over your body, feeling you up.

He has one hand settled along the back of your thigh, just right under the end of your jean shorts. His other hand grips your cheek, holding your face steady for him to messily kiss you. You don’t mind the mess of it, you’re not bothered by the way his tongue clumsily slips outside of your mouth a few times, because it’s a sign of how he’ll fuck you. Unabashed, uninhibited, maybe he’ll even whimper in your ear when he cums.

Just the thought alone is enough to encourage you.

You hook your fingers under Luke’s shirt, a faded graphic tee you thrifted and brought back to camp for him, and lift it just over his navel. He gets the message and pulls away from your lips, but there’s a force pulling him back once, twice, and one final time before he pulls back just enough to pull his shirt over his head. He looks like something out of a movie as he lifts the black shirt off by the neckline and tosses it to the floor. You don’t know if he means to, but he flexes while he does it, his abdomen taunt and the veins in his arms popping out more than usual.

You’ve seen Luke’s body many times and in many different scenarios, but each time you have to take a moment. And he knows you well enough to anticipate it.

He stands within arms reach, watching you watch him. You can’t tell since your eyes are focused on the way his abs frame his navel, the way his skin has deepened a shade, and the scars and moles that are dotted across his body, but he’s smiling. A small, barely there quirk of his lips.

Eventually, you take a step closer to Luke, pressing your fingers into his skin and sliding your hands back until your fingers interlock around his back. You pull Luke closer to you, lifting your head and nudging the tip of his nose with yours.

“You done?” he asks, referencing your prolonged staring.

You hum, nodding as you reach for Luke’s lips with your own. “‘m done.” And then Luke kisses you again.

There’s some repetition when Luke lifts your shirt over your head, but he appreciates your frame with his lips. He kisses your shoulders and neck as he unclasps your bra and pulls it off of you. He litters kisses into your stomach as he sinks to his knees, pulling your now unbuttoned shorts with him. He helps you step out of them, taking your shoes off as he does so, and when you’re only left in your panties, he looks up at you.

“Mind if I do the honors?”

You answer him through a grin. “Only if you let me return the favor.”

And he does.

It has been clear that your shower with Luke was likely going to be more than a shower, even though it was previously unspoken between you both. It doesn’t need to be spoken, not whenever there’s an obvious wet patch in your panties when Luke pulls them down, or when you’re face to face with his semi when you pull his boxers off of his hips.

You look up at Luke, your eyes slightly narrowed and a tiny smile on your lips. You don’t say anything, but Luke still rolls his eyes. He scoffs, jerks his head in a motion that tells you to stand. As soon as you do, he has your face in his hands and his lips on yours. Your hands grip his sides, keeping him pressed close to you.

Luke blindly walks you both back to the shower. He turns when your back faces the shower head, and lets the water flow down onto him first, pulling away only when his hair starts to get wet.

He has his eyes shut, water cascading down his body in a way that makes him look like one of the Greek sculptures that now sit locked in museums.

He pushes his hair off of his forehead, tipping his head back.

“Hair,” he tells you. And it takes you a second to tell that he’s asking you if you’re gonna put yours back. You quickly throw your hair up and out of your face, putting it back enough to avoid the stream of the shower, and then you pull Luke closer to you.

“Not even gonna pretend to shower? Maybe do a quick rinse?” He’s teasing, but you roll your eyes, move Luke out of the way, and then stand beneath the stream, lifting your arms and turning around to let the water roll over your body.

You look up at Luke and catch him staring. His eyes trail along your tits, deep gaze following individual droplets of water as they collide with your shoulder and roll all the way down to the peak of your tits, where they drop off to fall to the shower floor.

You scoff but don’t say anything. You’re not a hypocrite.

“Happy?” You ask him as you step out from the water.

His answer comes in the form of grateful hands pressing into your lower back. His fingertips pinch your hips as he directs you to the side wall. You don’t have to be told to tilt your head up. You’re already waiting for him, unable to resist smiling into the kiss when Luke brings his lips down onto yours.

He trails a hand down between your thighs, knocking them further apart with a tap of his knee against yours.

When his fingers, the middle and index, pull your lips apart, you sigh into his mouth. When they press against you, spreading the wetness already gathered there, you mewl against his tongue.

Luke’s good with his fingers, you both know it. At this point in your relationship—or whatever both of you decide to call it in the moment—with Luke, he knows you well. He knows that you like it when he hooks his fingers and slightly grazes the top of your walls. He doesn’t have to ask if you’re feeling good, but he does it anyway.

“Good?” Spoken against your lips, the ghost of his own lips brushing against yours as his words enter your mouth.

You nod, knocking your head back against the wall without much care of the water there.

Luke’s other hand clasps behind your knee where he lifts your leg, pressing the inside of it to his hip. He has you opened up for him, giving him free range to practically piston his fingers inside of you. It’s a fervorous pace, more hungry than you’ve known Luke to be. But you don’t mind it.

It’s late, the two of you are as tired as you are horny, it’s nice to rub one out quickly and then knock out. It’s a routine both of you are used to.

Like usual, you reach forward and wrap your hand around Luke’s cock.

It’s no surprise when you swipe your thumb over his tip and are greeted with precum. Truthfully, you’re shocked there’s not more. But tonight, unlike other nights, you hadn’t given Luke the workaround. You wanted him. He knew you wanted him. And you were tired of pretending, tired of acting like you didn’t want to really and truly be with Luke.

You would tell him. You were gonna tell him tonight.

… After you came.

It doesn’t take much more of Luke’s work for you to feel the beginnings of an orgasm creeping in. The urge to reach it is what has you locking your fingers in Luke’s wet curls and nudging him down.

He doesn’t protest. He just smiles and sinks to his knees, settling his head between your thighs. Without much hesitance at all, he latches his lips onto your clit.

Soon thereafter you’re arching into his mouth, your standing leg locked while your bent one hooks over Luke’s shoulder, pulling him closer even though your hand in his hair has already assured that he’s as close as he can get. His fingers curl within you, massaging your fluttering walls as you cum around them. Your moans are loud, echoing off of the walls and barely shrouded by the thunder of water meeting the tiled floors. Distantly, you hope that no one else has decided to come for a shower tonight, but the thought in the forefront of your mind is that you hope your orgasm never ends.

It feels so good when Luke makes you cum. It always does. Rather he does it like this, with his fingers and mouth, or even his cock, or if he does it with one of the toys you brought back from home with you, a recent fascination of his.

The image of when you had used the toy on Luke, pressing the vibrating shape onto his tip, pushes an aftershock out of your body, one that is pulled to completion by Luke’s eager work between your legs.

When he pulls himself from between your legs, he swipes his palm, spread out as flat as it can get, along your cunt. You don’t realize that he did it to gather your wetness until he has that same hand wrapped around his cock. He tugs, spreading your arousal with the movement.

It does the trick, Luke’s eyes fluttering shut as he twists his wrist.

You tut and pull his hand away from his wrist. He doesn’t question it, only watching you through heavy eyes as you spit a large glob into your hand and replace Luke’s work with your own.

His arms wrap around your waist. They wrap around your shoulders. He rests his forehead against yours and then lets his head fall to your shoulder whenever you pick your pace up a bit.

He’s noisy, you can feel his chest vibrating from where you have your hand pressed into his sternum. But he’s too quiet for you to hear. His volume, paired with the noise of the shower, frustrates you. You dip your head to the side, attempting to get your ear closer to Luke.

It works a bit, you’re able to hear his low groans, but it’s not enough.

Eventually, you call his name. It comes out as a mix between a request and a demand, existing somewhere in the middle where you hold a considerable amount of control of Luke Castellan, practically the leader of leaders at Camp Half-Blood.

Yet, you’re his pied piper.

He hums, his eyebrows pushed together. You can’t tell if his look is one of confusion or pleasure. You figure it’s both.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.” This is a plea.

Luke nods once, and then he looks at you.

It’s something you wanted, but it makes you flush a little. Having Luke’s undivided attention always made you squirm a bit, even when it usually made your ego flare. But that was when you weren’t here. When you were fully clothed and surrounded by the protection of your friends. When they giggled and nudged your side to tell you that the Luke Castellan was staring at you. This look isn’t much different from the one he gave you then, but there’s weight to it. He’s staring at you, with something so sincere in his eyes. Beyond just horniness, beyond a desire for you to make him cum.

It’s so much, too much, but you were the one to request it, so you don’t back down.

You square your shoulders and jerk Luke off with more determination.

His eyes start to flutter shut as he gets closer, getting heavier and heavier as if he’s fighting off sleep. But each time they close, they open back up in a couple of seconds. He’s so determined to obey you, it’s flattering. It’s impossible for the way Luke Castellan treats you to not go to your head. Especially when he starts speaking to you.

“Feels so good. ‘m so close. A little bit more.”

He knocks his forehead against yours, holding you still by cupping the back of your neck when your head lolls from the force of the collision.

He kisses you as he cums. His cock twitched in your hand as warm cum spurts onto your stomach and thighs. His lips move slowly, languidly, not kissing you as much as they just linger.

But it’s fine that way. You don’t mind it that way.

By the time both of you have come down, really came down, you’ve washed yourselves clean of the bug spray, cum, and general grime of camp. Luke shuts the shower off, he pads over to the linen closet at the end of the bathroom and you’re momentarily grateful that the kids have actually done their chores and restocked the closet with fresh towels whenever you realize neither you or Luke have clothes.

Not only did you not have clean and fresh clothes, but the clothes you were wearing before were gone now.

When you alert Luke of the problem, he groans. He tosses you a towel, wrapping his own around his waist, and stands in the center of the bathroom with his hands tossed onto his hips. He thinks for a second, clicking his tongue a few times.

“Okay,” he turns to face you. “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes. You stay here.” He kisses your forehead, readjusts his towel on his hips, and tells you, “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

1K notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 3 months

Text

Waiting🖤

Summary: After decades of being alone without a love of his own he finally finds her in a gloomy town of forks, his brother Edward isn’t the only lucky one

Pairing: Emmett Cullen x f! Swan reader

Warning: angsty, fluffy sunshine Emmett

•Masterlist•

I never thought much about the future until suddenly the friends I adored most started relationships and left me in the past as if our friendship never even mattered, like their boyfriend was the most important thing

My sister and I use to be close as kids but when she moved away with our mom and rarely visited me and dad, who she regularly called Charlie, we grew apart leaving me feeling like I lost all my friends and my sister, after a while I grew depressed and I never wanted to leave the house, dad grew concerned and after many absent calls from school he allowed me to start home schooling myself and my grades have never been better

Most nights it was just me and Charlie some days I’d get the courage to go down to the reserve hang out on the beach with Leah, Seth and Jake, sometimes I’d go for hikes in the forest behind the house just to clear my head, but other than that I’d stay in my room listening to music, reading the books dad would bring home for me, and doing school work

That’s how life was for so many years, it was routine and it never bothered me and dad loved having me around, after Bella and mom left he was so broken and with my help, even as a little girl, I pulled him out of that deep dark hole and he became that Charlie that joked around and made me smile

But then dad got the call that Bella was moving back for the rest of highschool since mom would be traveling with Phil for baseball, hopeful that I could reconnect with my sister again

Dad and I picked out a new bed spread for her hoping she’d love it, and he even let me pick out a new book as a thank you for helping him out with getting everything ready for her arrival, after a few days it was time for dad to go pick Bella up from the airport in port angeles, I was a nervous wreck which was crazy I mean she’s my sister why should I be nervous

Finally the familiar sheriff cruiser pulled up in the drive way, I walked out the door with an umbrella quickly shuffling over to Bella to cover her from the rain knowing how she favoured the warm dry weather, complete opposite of me

“Welcome home Bella!” I smiled as we walked back inside as dad got her bags following closely behind

She shook off her coat and placed her little cactus down on the counter

“You’ve grown so much you’re a year younger but you’re already taller than me” she said as she hugged me

“Come on bells we’ll show you your room!” Dad said as he walked up the stairs with her bags

She settled in for the rest of the day until it was supper time, I set out the table and dished up our meal, dads game playing in the background as we ate

“So are you excited for school on Monday?” I asked

“Not really but atleast I’ll have you there”

“What? No im homeschooled remember”

“Well…..” dad drawled out

“Dad what did you do?” My heart was racing now at the implication

“I thought since Bella’s back now it would be good for you to get out there again, you need some experiences honey”

“But you know I have no one there, no one wants to be friends with me we’ve been over this”

“You might make new friends honey, give give it a chance for your old man” I sighed slumping back in my chair trying to wrap my head around having to socialize again

“Atleast you’ll be with me, dad said since your grades are so good you got bumped up a grade and can have some certain classes together, depending on our courses” that settled my anxiety a little

Bella and dad cleaned up from dinner as I sat out on the porch, in desperate need for fresh air to do its magic, only 2 more days and I’ll be back in a school again, who knows maybe some new kids have arrived and aren’t too set in their groups yet

Monday came quickly and I was a ball of nerves, I glanced in the mirror as made sure my hair was just the way I wanted, wearing a casual outfit, simple flared black leggings, a dark rich blue longsleeve with my old worn out dark brown carhartt jacket, quickly spraying my vanilla perfume

I walked down stairs to meet Bella in the kitchen, she grabbed an apple as she picked up her backpack from the table

“Are you ready to go?” She asked

“Almost can I make a tea quickly?” She nodded and I quickly wiped together a chai tea latte, grabbing my lunch from the fridge and meeting her in the truck dad had gotten for us but since I didn’t have my license, seeing as I never needed one before now, she would be driving us

The drive to school was calming, hearing the steady rain fall against the windshield, pulling into the parking lot everyone stared until we got out, I kept my eyes down as Bella led me to the schools main office

“Okay here’s your schedule, we have math together at the end of the day, the bells about to ring so I gotta head to world history are you good to find your way to chemistry?”

“Oh ummm yeah I’ll be fine”

“Okay see you at lunch” she smiled gently before she left down the hall

Looking at my schedule I memorized the room number hoping it wouldn’t be too hard to find, turning the corner I rammed into what felt like a brick wall, dropping my books I look infront of me to see the most beautiful guy I’ve ever seen, his eyes a golden amber, hair as dark as night and his skin as pale as snow

“Sorry about that, I haven’t seen you around before” he said soothingly as he handed me the books that had momentarily scattered the floor, not even realizing he had picked them up, too busy oogling him I suppose

“Oh yeah I’m just re-enrolling here again, just trying to find my class” he looked down at my schedule a striking smile adorning his face

“Come this way gorgeous, got the same class” walking along the mostly bare hallways I noticed his gentle glide, I’ve never seen such a…..well such a perfect human, obviously I was way out of my league if I could think he’d ever be interested in me, I mean I’m plain and simple what would he ever see in me, best I stay in my lane, but dad did want me to make friends so that couldn’t hurt….right?

We got to the classroom and the teacher assigned us to sit together, the class went by pretty boring, every now and then I’d take glances at Emmett and I swear he did the same but he was probably just looking at someone else, moments like this made me wish I was a beautiful as my sister, she never had a problem with guys wanting her, they basically drooled over her, even if she never acted on any offers she was still wanted

It felt like I was a living ghost most days, no one noticed me anywhere I’d go, a big reason I wanted to be homeschooled, now I’m thrown back into this miserable place, I’ll bet by lunch time Bella with have a table full of new friends while I sit alone, not even a second glance from anyone

Lunch time rolled around and as I entered the cafeteria I searched for Bella and just as I guessed she was surrounded with bright smiles, excited to get to know her, she glanced my way and I waved hoping she’d wave me over to sit but she just gave a half assed smile and got back to talking with her new friends, I felt my heart rip at that, thinking things would be different this time with her here but I guess I was wrong

I found an empty table near the windows and made myself comfortable for another lonely lunch, I pulled out my bag from my backpack but my appetite was lost and I had no desire to eat so I just pushed my lunch to the side and looked out the window just wanting to go home

{Emmett’s POV}

I couldn’t get her out of my head, she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and her blood sings to me, when she bumped into me in the hallway I felt my whole world shift, she didn’t talk much but just being near her felt right

Lunch came, my least favourite part of the day, having to pretend for an hour, I glanced around the cafeteria hoping to catch a glimpse of my mate again, my eyes landed on her sat alone looking glum a few tables down, the others followed my gaze and smiled knowingly

“Who’s she?” Rosalie asked

“I think she’s my mate”

“Her thoughts are overwhelming loud” Edward stated

“What do you mean?” I asked nervously

“She’s not the happiest girl, I can hear how depressed she is, how unwanted she feels”

“I can feel how broken her heart is” Jasper added

This has to be the worst feeling knowing the one I’m suppose to love unconditionally and she is quite perfect in my eyes, has been broken and feels unloved

I got up from the table and made my way to her sliding in the seat across from her, her eyes were so glazed over with sadness she didn’t even realize I sat down

{Normal pov}

“So how’s your first day?” I jumped snapping out of my thoughts noticing Emmett is sat across from me

“Oh sorry I didn’t see you, ummm today has been fine I guess, thanks again for helping me earlier”

“It’s not problem, umm I was wondering maybe if you’re not too busy this weekend if you’d wanna hang out?” My heart raced at this

“Really? You wanna hang out with me?”

“Yeah of course, who would wanna spend time with the most beautiful girl in the school” his smile warmed my heart but quickly faded at a realization

“Is this a prank, because if it is it’s cruel” I said as my bottom lip wobbled

“No what? I would never do something like that I really wanna get to know you, so how about after school on Friday I’ll meet you in the parking lot and we can go do something?”

“Okay……sure id really like that” his face beamed with excitement

“Perfect it’s a date then gorgeous”

This felt surreal there’s no way there wasn’t a catch here, how could someone wanna spend their free time with me, but like Charlie said it doesn’t hurt to try, I just hope this doesn’t break my heart more

Part 2

532 notes · View notes

cod-dump · 8 months

Text

Laswell: Why is it when I need you to do something you’re fighting me every step of the way, but when Nik or Phil want something you bend over backwards??

Price, jokingly: Don’t you know I’m gay?

Laswell: Gay and a bottom who likes guys who are mean to him or can snap him in half

Price: I AM NOT-

Laswell: Don’t you dare lie to me. You know I’m right. I’m going to transition just so you’ll fucking listen to me for once!

Price: Kate, listen-

Laswell: It’s Kevin now, John, so you better start listening

#this is how 60% of their conversations turn out #call of duty #modern warfare #john price #kate laswell #incorrect quotes #pricegravesnik #nikpricegraves

934 notes · View notes

pixiecaps · 9 months

Text

Tubbo: Bro that’s crazy he just tried to murder everyone.

Phil: Yeah, he did, yeah.

Tubbo: I thought he was our bud.

Phil: He is. He still is Toby. He still is. He’s just being controlled, there’s no way that’s- (Cut off)

Tubbo: No he’s fucking not! That’s crazy! You don’t get to-

Phil: Explain then why he was-

Tubbo: No fucking-

Phil: -looking completely different.

Tubbo: I don’t- Listen. Listen up old geezer. I don’t give a shit how he looks if he tries to murder children he’s not a “bud”. That’s crazy!

Phil: (Eye roll) Oh my god.

Tubbo: Come on and you can’t even say I’m unbased right there. You’re trying to give- give the fucking child murderer a second chance right now.

Ramon: We trusted him to follow to some coords.

Phil: If it’s not him and he’s being controlled then it’s not fucking him. It’s someone else controlling him, right? I don’t know if you just want to murder every friend that just gets fucking corrupted or like taken over mentally by some mind control shit but I would expect if it happened to me you would come fucking helping me and rescue me! Even if it means knocking me out-

Tubbo: Well, no, no, no, no, no-

Phil: -Even if it means putting me in a cage, and taking as long as you can to fucking fix me!

Tubbo: Let me- Let me phrase it differently-

Phil: Forever is a friend of ourselves who has made a hotel to protect the eggs. He has done everything in his power to protect the eggs!

Ramon: Don’t argue.

Tubbo: Yeah but let me put it differently, alright? If it was you in this situation and you were trying to kill your own children, would you rather I killed you and saved your children or let you kill your children?

Phil: Knock me the fuck out! We’re not talking about-

Tubbo: What if that’s not possible?

Phil: -ultimatums here. Knock me the fuck out! Wait-

Ramon: There are young kids.

Tubbo: (To Ramon) Okay, okay.

Phil: (To Ramon) Alright, okay. (Laughs)

Tubbo: (Looks at Sunny) Hey pookies. Heyyy.

#added phils cam cus why not #qsmp #tubbo #philza

697 notes · View notes

finelinevogue · 8 months

Text

sad beginnings,

summary - everyone sees you as this weird and crazy ravenclaw. everyone except remus and sirius.

pairing - ravenclaw!reader x wolfstar

word count - ~2.5k

You thought breakfast would be better than a bowl of porridge, but that’s what you get for waking up late.

You’d overslept on your alarm clock by 45 minutes and were now paying the consequences by eating disgusting gruel for breakfast. There wasn’t even any honey to drizzle on top, thanks to some older Ravenclaws hogging it for their pancakes.

Half the tables were empty, as people started to head off for their first lessons of the day.

You had potions in half an hour.

Potions was one of your favourite lessons of the day, not because you liked the subject - in fact you despised it - but because you got to secretly crush on two of the prettiest boys in school.

Remus Lupin and Sirius Black.

They were currently the only group of Gryffindors still at their table, making a rather loud ruckus as they stood up from the table to leave.

James was teasing Lily about something and Sirius and Remus couldn’t stop laughing over it. Lily pretended to be offended and fake punched Sirius for laughing at her, only to have Remus lean down only slightly and kiss Sirius’ clothed arm all better.

It didn’t help that the two boys you would of course have a heavy crush on would already be in a well established relationship.

I mean, they were the prettiest boys in the school and they were opposites to each other so their relationship made perfect sense.

You just wished you had gotten there with one of them first. But who? You admired them both the same.

Both of them had—

“Oi, Y/N!” A Ravenclaw in your year, named Philip, shouted from down the table, making your porridge slide off your spoon and splat against the table.

You looked towards where Philip and his band of quite mean friends sat.

“Daydreaming about boys you could never get, again?!” Philip laughed, causing others around him to as well.

You didn’t reply. You knew better than to reply. Just keep your head down and trouble should go away.

Your eyes drifted from Philip over to where the Gryffindors had nearly exited the Hall, only Sirius and Remus had stopped just shy of leaving.

They were stood talking to each other.

“Who is it this time Y/N? Hm?” Darcy, one of Philip’s friends teased.

“Remember when Y/N tried to date Isaac? As if she could ever date him.” Someone else joked.

You looked back down at your porridge, still listening to them but trying your best to block them out.

Looking at your breakfast made you think about Isaac. He was just as bland and boring. Until he wanted to have sex with you and you really didn’t want that, well then he became an absolute prick. Started spreading horrible rumours about you, showing his true colours.

Isaac started spreading stories about how you tried to come onto him, only to deny him. How you had been weird and crazy the entire night, when in fact it was the opposite.

Now everyone thinks you’re weird, a prude and a bitch.

One of the reasons you have no friends.

Isaac had managed to isolate you and Philip and his cronies had taken advantage of that.

“Think she was looking at Remus and Sirius.” Someone snickered, making you love uncomfortably.

“No way! Y/N has hots for the dogs,” They thought they were funny, “Is that true, Y/N? You want Remus and Sirius to be your little boyfriends?”

They all laughed, until they went silent.

“You alright, Phil? Can I call you Phil?”

Your head shot up to see Sirius leaning down over the bench next to Philip, resting his palms on the table and glaring him down. Remus stood right behind him.

Your heart rate increased at the sight of them magically appearing.

Did they hear? Did they know? Were they in on the sad and pathetic joke?

“It’s just Philip.” Philip gulped.

“Great, Phil.” Sirius smiled, but it definitely wasn’t genuine. “We heard your filthy mouth speak our names and, well, I for one don’t like pricks speaking about me or my boyfriend behind me back. So keep your goddamn mouth shut or I’ll hex you back to Year 1. Okay?”

“Uhhh…”

“I said, okay?” Sirius asked again.

“Yes, yes!” Philip stuttered.

“Good.” Sirius moved back to stand up.

It was lovely that Sirius had come over here to defend his boyfriend like that. You craved someone having the kindness, and definitely the courage, to stand up for you like that.

You watched as Sirius took Remus’ hand and you wondered what that felt like.

You could imagine Sirius’ hands being quite rough and Remus’ hands being calloused, but both still having a sense of softness to them. They’d both be very grounding and warm to hold on to.

Then they both walked your way.

You quickly started to eat your porridge again, keeping your head down. You don’t think either of them would make a scene with you, but maybe they’d caught on to your gazes and blushing and they’d had enough.

You thought you were subtle but maybe you’d been far more obvious than you intended. You cursed yourself, but only knew it was a matter of time before you made a fool of yourself.

Maybe they weren’t even walking towards you. Why would they? They didn’t know you, except for your name maybe.

But then you saw them stop in front of the bench on the other side of you.

You looked up to find them both smiling warmly down at you. You gulped, thinking the worst.

“You have potions next right, Y/N?” Remus asked kindly.

He did know your name…

And he knew your timetable…

“Yes?” You asked, cautiously.

“You want to walk over with us? We’re heading there now.” Remus asked.

You were a little gobsmacked that they were asking you to do something with them.

No one has asked you to do anything in a very long time, even something as simple as being asked to walk to class with them. So this was a huge deal to you.

“Really? I mean, sorry, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Intrude?” Sirius laughed, “Never. C’mon.” He kindly smiled and you nervously got up from the table.

You picked up your robe and wand.

“Are you sure?” You asked to make sure a second time.

“Y/N, if you don’t hurry up then Sirius is probably going to pick you up and carry you there himself and then I’m going to have to deal with him moaning about crippling back ache later on… Oh my God… That want be implying anything about your weight… Um… Should I just stop?” Remus rambled and looked to Sirius for help.

“You really should.”

And you smiled.

Genuinely smiled, for what felt like the first time in a long time.

•-•-•-•-•-•

The hallways were starting to become busy.

People moving from morning time to lesson time, especially the first years with their overpacked bags and reckless running through the corridors to get to their lessons on time.

One darted past you, causing you to wobble. Luckily Remus was behind you and he put his hand on the lower part of your back to balance you carefully.

“Thank you.” You said, whilst trying really hard not to blush.

You failed to notice Remus blushing too as you turned back around. You definitely didn’t fail to notice the way Remus kept his hand on your lower back, helping you weave through the halls.

With two of the most popular guys in school, you didn’t realise how easy it was to actually manoeuvre through the corridors.

You’d spent too much time being infatuated with the time that Remus and Sirius were giving you, though, that you’d forgotten your potions book.

You stopped short, feeling the boys bump into the back of you abruptly.

“Bloody… Are you alright Y/N?” Sirius asked.

“I’ve forgotten my potions book. I’ll catch up with you, I just need to run to get it.” You turned to say to them, feeling slightly small underneath both their pretty eyes looking at you.

“Here, just take mine.” Sirius offered.

“No.” Remus swatted his hands, “Another “forgotten” book and you are going to get detention.”

“Oh screw that.” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“Y/N, take mine instead.” Remus insisted.

“What?” This time Sirius hit Remus’ hands away, “And mess with your perfect record? I don’t think so. Y/N…”

“Hey, listen.” You chuckled at the sight of them arguing… over you. It felt like the most surreal situation. “I’m just going to get my book, okay? Then none of us will be in trouble. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

You smiled at them in thanks, before darting around and away from them.

After you’r turned the corner, Remus hit Sirius over the head with his textbook.

“Ow! What the…” Sirius rubbed the back of his head.

“Really? You were about to give yourself a detention?” Remus chuckled, knowing exactly that was what Sirius was about to do and why.

“For Y/N? Absolutely.” Sirius smirked.

Remus shook his head and kissed Sirius’ cheek in admiration, before taking his hand and leading him off to potions.

•-•-•-•-•-•

As you rooted through your belongings in your dorm, you hummed to yourself with content.

You felt ten times lighter than you ever had felt before and all because the two pretty boys you’ve been admiring for so long had looked right back at you. They’d even gone as far as walk with you to potions.

Sirius was willing to get a detention for you and Remus was willing to break his golden reputation. That was flattery of their highest form.

You finally found your book, before pivoting to leave your dorm.

Only to find Darcy standing there with a cat in her arms, looking malicious as ever.

“O-oh Darcy. Hello.” You said, losing your hum and your smile with one look at her.

“Cut the pleasantries. You made us look like fools at breakfast in front of Sirius and Remus, you foul witch.” Darcy spat at you.

“I’m sorry, I never meant for that to happen.”

You felt yourself caving in on yourself, becoming that shelter of a shy person that these horrible people made you.

“And you think an apology will make it all better?”

“I don’t know.” You lowered your head.

“Well it doesn’t.” She moved towards you and you gulped in fear of her. She’d pulled at your hair and enchanted curses on you before, so you were terrified of what she might do now. Especially when it was just you two here.

“I’m sorry.” You looked up at her, hating that she could probably see the fear in your eyes.

“Show us up like that again and you’ll leave with more than just a scratch.”

“A scratch?” You asked, but maybe you shouldn’t have.

Before you knew what was happening Darcy’s cat attacked your face, clawing at your cheek with one powerful hit. The cat screamed what sounded like a war cry and you screamed in pain.

Your head turned to the side, leaving the cat’s claws to drag slightly down your cheek before letting go. You didn’t reveal your face again until you heard the door slam shut.

It only took a minute for you to delicately touch your cheek and see the blood for the pain to come flying in. You cried as you sat on your bed, cupping your cheek from dripping blood everywhere with one hand and the other hand resting on your forehead as you came to terms with what just happened.

You’d just been attacked for trying to apologise for something you hadn’t been in control of.

Your tears ran down your cheek and stung as they ran into the cuts on your cheek.

Walking to the little mirror hanging up on the wall, you looked in to see yourself. There were three lines scraped down your once bare cheek, running from just under your eye to resting on your jawline.

You cried some more, completely getting lost in the self loathing, before rushing around the dorm to find some healing lotion and tissues.

It took you ten minutes to clean up the mess on your face, and another five for the bleeding to calm down. It was an angry red mess, but you had to get to potions before the class ended.

You breathed out through your mouth a shaky breath, dabbing under your eyes with the sleeve of your jumper to wipe away the tears.

“You’re okay.” You said to yourself in the mirror. “You’re okay.”

You found that talking moved the cuts on your face and they stung even worse. So no talking it was. Brilliant.

“You’re okay.” You reminded yourself one last time.

But your words felt far from convincing.

#finelinevogue fic #finelinevogue masterlist #harry potter fic #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders x you #poly!marauders imagine #poly!minsung x reader #poly!marauders x y/n #wolfstar x reader #wolfstar fic #marauders fic #marauders x reader #wolfstar angst #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar angst

877 notes · View notes

ohbo-ohno · 9 months

Text

merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)

5.7k, mind the tags <3

cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)

Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.

It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.

Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.

You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth.

You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart.

Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.

There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year.

But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.

It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.

The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.

You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.

He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.

He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.

There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.”

You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.

There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.

Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.

There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.

You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.

You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.

He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.

You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.

The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.

But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor.

The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.

“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.

“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.

The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”

Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.

“Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”

You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs.

He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.

You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.

You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap.

Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.

You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.

“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”

You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.

“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”

Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.

“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”

You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.

The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.

He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.

“Keep movin’, Soap.”

“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”

The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.

Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.

You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.

“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.

Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.

You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.

He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.

“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”

“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”

His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.

He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”

You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.

You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.

“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”

You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”

Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.

“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”

The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.

You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”

“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”

You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.

He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.

The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.

You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.

He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.

Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.

“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”

Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.

“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”

You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.

“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?”

“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.

“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”

“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.

“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”

You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure.

It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.

He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body.

“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”

You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.

“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”

Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form.

You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.

He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.

“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back.

He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.

“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”

You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.

You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.

“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”

You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.

“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”

You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance.

The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.

The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true.

He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.

Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.

You don’t even have the energy to beg.

The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.

You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.

He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.

“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”

Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted.

His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.

Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster.

There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.

You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.

“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.

“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.

You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships.

So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.

The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.

You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.

Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.

He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.

You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”

You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year.

So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers.

Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.

———————————————————————

You wake, gasping, in a dark room.

You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.

“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”

You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.

He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.

He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked.

Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”

That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.

It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”

Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”

Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”

Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.

Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human.

“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”

You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes.

“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”

It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”

The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.

“Is the Purge over?”

The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.

“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”

You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”

Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”

You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”

Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”

“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”

“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”

You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.

“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”

Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”

His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”

You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.

“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”

“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.

Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.

It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds.

Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.

Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.

With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.

#lumi im SORRY hand on the bible i could not tell you why this took me so long #it's pwp. it's pure smut. there is no justifiable reason for this taking a week #i literally have FOUR fucking docs of purge au's rn lmao like when i tell you i tried to write this SO MANY TIMES it was just not happening #ghoap x reader #bo writes #purge au #how do i tag this to get people to see it but not to get people complaining about dark fic to me #...i don't #oh well. special treat for you guys lol

506 notes · View notes

annwrites · 1 month

Text

—meet me in the woods

say goodbye to who i was. i ain't never been away so long. don't look back, them days are gone. — thranduil x modernday!reader ; 𓋼𓍊 𓆏 𓍊𓋼𓍊.

a/n: while i've listened to bluefax's dramatic audiobook version of the hobbit, listened to phil dragesh's audiobooks of lotr (fellowship twice now), watched all of peter jackson's films multiple times, & seen s1 of trop, i'm not terribly versed in tolkien's lore. as such, i intend to be taking great liberties with this fic in regards to it.

i'm putting this note out there now, bc i know how tolkien's fans can be when it comes to lore accuracy & i'm not going to tolerate being attacked for discrepancies in a fanfic i'm writing for free & for fun. not to mention, first & foremost, for myself.

Thranduil’s nostrils flare and he rests his arms behind his back. “What are you doing out here?”

You jump at the unexpected sound of his voice, gripping the hem of your dress more tightly in your hands.

You settle your feet firmly in the softly flowing current of warm, shimmering water you stand in before you meet his gaze. “Wading.”

“You should be inside,” he spits.

Your brows furrow. “There’s guards,” you say, glancing across the way to a pair of archers, then back to him. “And at least being out here puts me out of your way.”

He takes a small step closer, leaves crunching beneath his tall leather boots. “You’ll do as I command.”

You stare up at him in disbelief.

He loathes your presence, so you come out here as an attempt to diffuse tension—to start instead enjoying your days in this unfamiliar place, away from his insufferable company—and still he’s displeased by your actions.

You step out of the river, climbing up the embankment, dropping your skirts around your bare feet while you blink up at him. “At once, your highness.”

He sneers at you, grabbing you roughly by the arm, pulling you into his chest.

You stare into his eyes, and he into yours, glancing between them and…your lips.

Finally, he releases you with a huff and a shake of his head—long silver hair slipping over his shoulders—marching back into Mirkwood.

He seats himself beside you upon lush green grass, watching as tree branches sway in the wind, birds flitting between them, chirping a musical tune, the scent of damp soil invading his senses.

You remain silent, fighting back tears.

“What is it today?” He asks with exasperation.

You shake your head, looking in another direction.

He rolls his eyes upwards. Difficult girl.

He remains silent, however, waiting for you to answer him.

“I’ve been here for weeks,” you state. “And I still can’t remember…anything. Not where I came from, or how I got here.”

Your chin wobbles. “I don’t even have a name.”

Silence settles into the space between you, hot tears slipping down your soft cheeks while you wrap your shawl more tightly around you.

“Would you like for me to, then?”

You look at him with furrowed brows. “What?”

He reaches up—swallowing thickly when you flinch away from his touch—tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before resting his hand in his lap again. “Name you.”

One day while exploring the woods near your house, you come across an open novel lying atop a rotting tree trunk, weeds sprouting from its pages. Wanting a closer inspection, you lean down, glancing over the faded printed words—something about a place called ‘Mirkwood’ and an elf named Thranduil—before you grip the page’s edge, about to turn it, and an overwhelming feeling comes over you before you blackout entirely.

And when you awake, it’s in a new world, with no knowledge left within you of your previous one. Not even your own name.

You’re quickly discovered by men with pointed ears who bear swords and bows, who begin a swift interrogation as to who you are and how you passed through their boundaries unnoticed.

You plead with them not to hurt you. That you have no idea where you even are—who you are—so they decide to bring you before their king, so as to answer for your crime of trespassing.

A king who immediately finds displeasure at your mortal presence in his home—eager to rid himself of you nigh-immediately—until you beg him not to banish you into an unknown land. To please help you—you’ll do anything he says—you just need to bide your time until your memory returns and then you will be gone, never to return.

With great reluctance, he takes a kernel of pity upon you. But he assures you: his hospitality has its limits, so you best tread carefully.

headcanons:

enemies-to-lovers.

reader’s memory will eventually return, but in random spurts.

when that starts occurring, it actually makes thranduil uneasy, afraid that once it’s been fully restored, she’ll leave him & mirkwood behind.

i know he’s not half-elf, but reader is going to be legolas’ mother.

#annsideas #thranduil x reader #thranduil x you #thranduil x y/n

150 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 3 months

Text

<- part seven | part nine -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Was it real?

the song: we can’t be friends by Ariana Grande

also for your listening pleasure: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, One More Night by Phil Collins, Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston, Who's Crying Now by Journey, I Ran (So Far Away) by A Flock of Seagulls, What About Love? by Heart, and Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon

5,839 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury, new injuries & blood / mentions of getting high, but not reader / douchery to the highest order in the form of Brendan - he ignores boundaries, doesn’t listen, and a physical fight ensues - I made it as brief and nondescript as possible, but take care of yourself and do not read if you find it could be triggering (I’ve marked the scene with Brendan between red lines, and all you’d need to know is Steve saves the day) | my blog is 18+

Somewhere near Cornwallis Street - Sunday

The screech of metal on metal continuing to alert you of his presence only makes your feet pick up their pace on the grass, pavement of the sidewalk too hot for your bare soles.

“Sweetheart, just get in the van. You’re wearing out my brakes, here.”

Eddie’s been trailing behind you for five minutes, calling out the open window to get you to look at him.

“You know,” he calls, pausing at the stop sign as you look at the empty intersection and begin to jog across hot tar, “You’re being a brat!”

“Excuse me?!”

Your foot twitches to stomp, like the thing he just called you, while fighting the urge to look at him as you continue down the neighborhood’s street.

“You heard me! Get in the fucking car. You gonna walk all the way across town without shoes on?”

“Yes!”

“Really?” He scoffs, “Okay. What happens when you get there and you’ve got no keys?”

Your feet slow, but you call out confidently, “I have a spare hidden.”

“Fucking stubborn,” he mumbles as he brakes and puts the car in park and hops out.

Eddie rounds the hood of his car, sneakers untied and black swim trunks dripping wet still, hair pulled into a low bun with curls falling out around his face. He glares at you with hands on his hips.

“Get. In. The. Car.”

“No!”

You do stomp your foot that time, and then make a break for it, a full out sprint to get around him.

It’s childish, is what it is. There’s no other way to describe the way you try to run away from him, literally, or the way he snakes his arms around you, shouting about what the hell your actual problem is. No other way to describe the way you swat at a hard chest doing absolutely nothing as tears start rolling down your cheeks again and you yell the word asshole at him.

“Me?! I’m the asshole?” Eddie’s fingers circle your wrists, stopping your useless attack. His brown eyes blink at you, “For what? For-“

“For lying to me, Eddie!” You shout it around a sob, knowing you’re leaning towards ugly snotting crying territory quickly. Your vision blurs as you keep going, “You manipulated me for Harrington. For some extra cash. For…for what?” Lips spitting words out around salty tears, “You started this whole fucking bet and-and you let him…why’d you do this? Why’d you-“

“Because hello!” Eddie shouts, letting your arms go and holding his out wide, “Breaking news to literally only you because the entire fucking planet can see it: You’re totally in love with the guy!”

“I’m no-“

“You are,” Eddie cuts you off, eyes soft but jaw hard. “And you were never gonna give him a chance without our help because, aside from him,” Eddie laughs and gestures down the road behind you, “You’re the most stubborn person on earth. You both set your sights on something and you won’t budge till you get it. And you…yours were set on hating his guts.”

Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you look away from him, refusing to admit he’s right and Eddie shakes his head, speaking softly now.

“And I don’t think you told yourself you were gonna hate Steve Harrington forever because of some moment when you were twelve. I think you decided you were gonna hate him, so there was never any chance the opposite could be true. Because if you hate him, you could never love him. And if you never love him, you can’t get hurt.”

A sob cracks your chest, head hung as tears fall and darken the pavement burning your feet. It only takes three drops for Eddie’s arms to wrap around you and five for you to wrap yours around him. He waits until his white cut off tee is plastered to his chest but no longer getting freshly damp to run a palm up and down your back and kiss the top of your head.

“Want some pie?”

Eddie makes a disgusted scoff as you swipe your nose on his shirt and then look down at your bare feet.

“Can we stop and get my shoes?”

He smiles, head nodding towards the van still idling next to you.

“Would Prince Charming show up at Cinderella’s doorstep without the glass slipper?”

Your eyes roll as Eddie walks you over to the van, helping you in as you pick up the shoes in the wheel well.

Eddie closes the door, face twisted in hesitation before he taps the open window frame and clears his throat.

“To be clear, so I don’t get accused of manipulating and lying again,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you duck your head as he softly tacks on, “I’m not Prince Charming in this scenario.” He nods at the shoes in your lap, “Before I could even think to follow you, Harrington was shoving those at my chest and telling me to.”

Your chin wobbles, lip quivering as you sniff and ward off a fresh wave of tears.

It doesn’t matter who brought them, not really. Because all that does matter is the fact that they’re here and you want to put them on and keep running.

Away from your arguably skewed view of the past. Away from this street and that house and the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body, the ache in your stomach and chest that you worry won’t ever go away.

Run far, so far that Eddie’s words can’t ever catch up and make you face them head on - admit the truth behind them.

All you can think about doing is running away from Steve Harrington, because that’s all you’ve ever done, but now, now there’s a small new thread.

A thread like the one in your skirt a week ago that you wonder if you keep pulling, you’ll find where it starts.

A thread that runs parallel to the feeling of needing to run away from him. One that makes you pick and pull and wonder:

If you keep running from him, will Steve ever give up trying to catch you? And if you stopped running, what happens when he does?

What happens when the chase is over?

Hawkins, Indiana - Monday A.B. (After Bet)

You’re not proud of it, on Monday morning when you call Keith and tell him you can’t come in, lying about being sick.

The feeling in your stomach as you move a shirt, a sweatshirt, and pajama pants to your dryer later that day makes you wonder if you were really lying though.

Rain tapping against your windows and the glow of the TV screen lull you to sleep on your couch.

You don’t dream about Steve Harrington.

And when a crack of thunder jolts you awake right when he’s not about to kiss you, you decide you’ll never watch a movie with Harrison Ford in it again.

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday A.B.

Your hand smacks the buttons of your radio as Cyndi Lauper’s voice croons out of the speakers, ironically the dark storm clouds from last night are fading to gray this morning as you drive to work.

Fingers rub soothing circles into your temple while the warm summer breeze blows through your open windows, placating you into calm energy until the radio lands on it’s next station.

“But if you change your mind, you know that I’ll be here. And maybe we both can learn…”

As you roll to a stop at a red light, you blink at your radio with a clenched jaw as Phil laments about getting one more night. Thankfully, the song is almost over, so when the light turns green, your shoulders roll back as your wheels go forward again.

But it seems the universe is out to get you, and soon Whitney’s voice is prying your already cracked chest open, voice filling every vulnerable nook and cranny it can find in your body.

“Nope!” You tell your radio, the universe, while your hands frantically grab for a mix out of your cupholder and shove it into the dash as you make the last turn onto Family Video’s street.

And if the Journey song isn’t enough to make you fall, as you turn into the parking lot, the sight of Steve is.

He looks up at the sound of your music and you quickly slam it off, able to feel the tiny people going to work inside your chest, shouting orders about reinforcements around your heart with the wall back standing.

Steve’s car is backed into a space, and he sits on the hood of it. He holds a to go coffee cup and a brown paper bag that he grips tighter as you get out of your car and walk past without looking at him.

“Honey-“

“Don’t.”

He says your name, feet scrambling behind you until you slow to a stop.

“That was a shitty way for me to tell you, I didn’t mean to make it sound like we were all…conspiring against-“

“But you were,” you interrupt, spinning to face him in a grave mistake. The leader inside of you shouting about more! You need more glue, more bricks, more! He’s too powerful! The walls are breaking again!

Steve’s hair is a mess, wild brown waves with zero product in it. Circles under pleading amber eyes and you’re fairly certain the shirt he’s wearing isn’t washed if the wrinkles and mustard stain are any indication.

It makes you feel guilty, but then you remember that you’re not sure what was real for him this last week. Not sure if any of it was, or if you were just the thing he had his sights set on winning - the thing he couldn’t have till he could.

He shakes his head but you hold up your hand, “Let’s just forget anything happened, okay?”

“Wh-what?” Steve blinks profusely and you look anywhere but his eyes, and freckles, and neck, and-

“I just want to…forget it. Let’s just be coworkers who share friends again, okay?”

“We…you don’t even want to be friends?” His voice cracks and you blink your own eyes too many times, feeling a sting behind them.

“I…I can’t be your friend Ste-“ your voice wobbles and you correct, “Harrington.”

Your fingers fiddle with the strap of your bag and his crinkle the brown bag in his hand and you both stand there, staring at the sidewalk for what feels like forever.

“I s’pose you don’t want these then,” he offers the items up limply, before he walks over to the trash and tosses them. He clears his throat and calls over his shoulder, “Have a good shift, co-worker.”

His fingers slide on the bridge of his nose as he gets into his car, but it’s no use. You don’t see him crying because you’re walking into the store, and he doesn’t see you crying, because his vision is too blurry to see much of anything.

The truth of the matter is, you can’t be friends with Steve.

Because you’d rather be so much more than friends.

But if you’re more than friends with Steve Harrington, it was only a matter of time before something, someone, new came along. A new challenge and thing to chase after.

You’re swiping at your eyes still as you get into the back room, greeted by an apologetic looking Robin and Keith slurping on yogurt.

“Good thing you called in yesterday,” he speaks around the pink snack in his mouth, “You look like hell.”

“Thanks,” you snap sarcastically, dropping your bag on the table which wobbles when you do.

“Huh,” Keith gets up, holding the spoon in his mouth as he walks over and shakes the table. He pops it out and holds the spoon at it accusingly, “Who broke the table?”

Your body heats up remembering Steve laying on top of you on it, the way he felt between your legs, the way he-

“I did!” Robin scrambles up from her chair, waving her hand over it and talking too fast, “I’ll pay for it! I’ll work extra shifts! I’ll-“

“She didn’t break it.” You look at Robin who you’re worried may offer to sell her own soul if she thinks you’re mad at her. You’re not, though you do wonder how she knows about the table. “I did.

Keith kicks it and mumbles a ‘whatever’, tossing the yogurt cup into the trash can and licking his fingers free from the creamy substance as he talks, “How was Harrington?”

“Wh-what?”

“Harrington?” Keith raises his eyebrows, hooking his thumb at Robin, “I can’t trust a thing she says, the traitor’s best friends with him.”

“He…” Robin looks at you with a pout, pleading blue eyes and you sigh, “He was actually really good. Did extra work. Did the whole shipment by himself…he was…he was great.”

Keith nods, eyes narrowed at you and then shrugs. “Whatever, he’s the new full time guy then. Spread the good news Buckley.”

Robin’s eyes squeeze shut in a wince as you shout, “What?!”

Keith is already walking out into the front of store and you trail behind him as he explains, “We needed a replacement for Tracy. This week was a trial run for Harrington. Thought he told you?”

“He…” you trail off, remembering your first shift with him last week, “He said it was while you looked for the replacement.”

Keith starts stacking tapes and Robin starts bringing them to shelves as he rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but why would I go through the trouble of posting the job, interviewing, and training a new person when one of my employees wants it?”

“But-but, I’ll do it! I’ll interview and train! You don’t have to do a thing! I’ll-“

“What’s the issue, I thought you said he was great? Give me a reason and I won’t give him the position.”

Keith blinks at you, bored, and Robin holds her breath next to you.

This means Steve and you working together most days.

This means watching him flirt and date and parade around Hawkins with every girl other than you for the foreseeable future.

This means you’ll never outrun Steve Harrington.

Robin raises her eyebrows at you and clears her throat as Keith snaps his fingers in your face, which you plaster a smile on to.

“Give Harrington the job, what do I care?”

You spend the rest of your shift silent, listening to Keith explain to you how he wants the big fourth of July display to go and reminding Robin to tell Steve he can be in charge of the park, like he asked, whatever that means.

You stopped listening the minute his name was mentioned and focused on finding every movie with fireworks in it.

Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday A.B.

You’re balancing on the window’s ledge, one hand holding the display of Patrick Swayze up and the other reaches for the tape that’s just out of reach on the shelf.

The tips of your fingers brush it as you stretch another centimeter and a huff falls past your lips when you can’t get it. You rise up onto your toes, craning just a little bit further when you start to lose your footing.

Large hands catch your waist from behind, holding you up. In the process of steadying you, your shirt rose, and Steve’s fingers now rest against your bare skin.

His hand lingers on your lower back as he reaches for the tape and hands it to you, both returning to your waist as you tape Johnny & Baby to the window.

“Thanks,” you clear your throat, realizing it’s the first word that’s been spoken in several hours.

Steve just hums from behind you before he lets his hands fall, the sound of his feet dragging on carpet only just louder than your heartbeat.

It isn’t fair, to know how his lips feel against yours.

It isn’t fair, to know how he looks without his shirt off.

It isn’t fair, to know how good it feels to come around his fin-

The chime of the door pulls you from your self-sabotaging thoughts, the scent of peaches almost immediately overpowering.

Blonde ringlets bounce as long legs approach the counter where he leans over a clipboard.

“Hi there,” her voice so sugary sweet it makes your stomach ache.

“Hi, welcome to…H-hi,” he stands, clearing his throat.

She pouts and leans across the counter, fingers traveling up his arms and making yours erupt in flames.

“You never called me, Steve.”

“Oh,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’m so sorry. Something came up.”

Something came up.

Your scoff is loud, loud enough to have both of their heads turning, so you face the window again, putting pieces of tape aimlessly on the back of the posters.

“That’s okay,” Brit assures, syrupy and sighing, “But how are you gonna make it up to me?”

“Oh, well, I…”

“Hey, Steve?” You call, looking over your shoulder.

He blinks at you, Brit’s fingers on his forearm now and swirling circles into it. “Ye-yeah?”

“I’m out of tape,” you respond sharply.

“And?” His brows furrow at you.

“Can you get me some more, or are you too busy not doing your job?”

His eyes narrow under furrowed brows but then he turns to Brit, voice low and daring to sound smooth now, “Sorry, babe, I gotta get back to work, but I promise I’ll call this time?”

Brit smiles, gives a nod and a little wave with her fingers and then the scent of peaches is replaced with cedar and mint.

You smack another piece of tape haphazardly to the window.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” His voice comes from right behind you, and you don’t dare turn around and face him.

“You have that tape?”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs, handing a roll over your shoulder, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “Looks like you missed a spot.”

“Thanks,” voice biting as your fingers yank the tape from his.

He snorts, hand pressing to the glass next to your waist, “I seriously cannot believe you have the audacity to be jealous.”

Your knees wobble as you spin and he steadies you again, hands on your hips and just low enough for you to look down at where your bodies press together as you swallow. Steve raises his eyebrows at you, expectantly, waiting.

“What? You want a reward for using audacity correctly in a sentence?”

Steve’s jaw pulses, his forehead furrows again, but then you tack on, “And I’m not jealous.”

His fingers squeeze involuntarily and he shakes his head slowly.

“There you go again, what’d I say about that, huh?”

Chests heave with each of your intense breaths, his tongue wets his lip as you swallow and push against the glass behind you.

“I have no reason to be jealous,” you respond quietly as Steve’s fingers brush back and forth under the hem of your shirt. “I hate you.”

Steve’s eyes shift in color, darker, like the forest is being covered with storm clouds as he shakes his head no again, “Quit,” he takes a deep breath, exhaling the word as he tilts his chin, “Lying.”

The chime above the door rings and Robin’s honey tinted waves are bouncing under it as she looks around. Steve takes a step back from you, pink cheeked and swallowing, hands shaking a little as you quickly climb down.

Your eyes avoid his as you grab your bag and wave to Robin, mumbling something about seeing her tomorrow.

You’re not even surprised at the lyrics that fill your car when you start it.

“I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day…

I couldn’t get away.”

Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday A.B.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Thunder booms overhead when you ask, like it’s protesting this conversation.

Robin sits on top of the counter across from where you lean, tossing skittles in the air and catching them.

Or well, trying to catch them.

A yellow one evades her and joins a green and blue one on the floor as she says, “Shoot.”

Your fingers fiddle with the button on your vest that says ‘May The Force Be With You’ as Robin foregos throwing and starts to dump the bag directly into her mouth.

“How…” your arms cross as you sigh and squint out the window at the gloomy evening, “How’d you become friends?”

“Wha?” She asks around rainbow goo, blue eyes blinking rapidly as your nose wrinkles at the sight.

She swallows quickly and waves her hands for you to elaborate, “What?”

“How’d you become friends…” you swallow down the butterflies that ache to come out just from saying his name, “With Steve?”

“Oh,” she says, softly.

“We just,” you’re back to fiddling with buttons, with the keys of the computer, “We never really talked about it, y’know? Like you hated his guts just like me and then all of a sudden you were tricking us into movies together. And getting him this job. Helping him with…”

The unspoken activities of last week hang in the air and she smiles tightly.

“Right, um, well,” she scratches at the back of her neck, legs swinging as she blows out a breath. “We worked together, at Scoops, remember?”

You nod as she continues to ramble, talking with her hands and skittles spilling on the floor as she does, “And well, aside from making me laugh all summer and actually being not so terrible at conversation and listening like I’d pegged him for, there was this one night, where we got a little high and he…we were playing truth or dare.”

She trails off and looks at you, pink cheeks and biting her lip and you stand up straighter.

“You what? You didn’t…”

“No!” Robin shudders, she waves her hands, “Absolutely not! He…” She groans and looks out the door and hops down, pacing as she mumbles, “Gonna freaking kill me.”

“What?”

“Uggh! I asked him if he’d ever been in love.”

Your heart beats erratically, like it’s trying to keep up with the constant pelt of rain against the pavement, like each thump is trying to break you from the inside out.

“And? His answer made you become best friends for life?”

Robin shrugs, “Sort of, yeah.” She smiles, avoiding your eyes as she fiddles with the skittles wrapper. “This guy who seemed so high and mighty, so douchey, so…well, you know how he is,” she waves a hand with a laugh, “After a Summer of proving all of that wrong, making me eat my judging ways, this dingus goes and tells me that he isn’t sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but he’s pretty sure he felt it holding this girl’s hand on a ferris wheel when he was twelve.”

Robin tosses the wrapper in the trash with a sigh, “And I don’t know. I folded. Now, whenever he says something dumb, whenever he’s an idiot, all I see is a guy laying on my floor telling me that. All I see when I look at him is this front covering up for a kid who thinks love is holding a girl’s hand. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?”

“Did,” you start quietly, almost so quiet you’re not sure you’re even saying anything. The words muffled by rain and thunder and your heartbeat,

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

“What?” She asks, wrinkles deepening under parted bangs. “No, absolutely not. He told me if I ever told anyone that my ass was grass.” She snorts and rolls her eyes.

Robin never knew how you met Steve. She never knew why you hated him, you just bonded over the fact that you did.

She frowns at you, “Why do you as…oh shit.”

You’re certain she’s connected the dots you already have but then she’s looking over your shoulder and your mouth is parting at the sight of who’s running with his jacket over his head towards the store.

He shakes out hair as the door chimes, swiping at his eyes as he starts up and down the aisles, searching and your hands start to shake.

“Go in the back room, I can manage till he’s gone,” she says softly behind you, nudging you towards the back of the store and away from the man dressed in a nice suit squinting at new releases.

Your head nods as you quickly and as quietly as possible make a break for it.

But then you trip on the Predator cut out and his voice sounds just like it did all those years ago.

“Well, what do we have here?”

“Hi,” you scramble to your feet, floundering with the cut out pieces as you mumble his name, “Brendan.”

He tilts his head at you and has the nerve to smile at you, “Thought that was you! You look…”

Your body warms under his appraisal, his hold nothing back rake of his eyes over you from head to toe and back up. Only hotter when he says, “Different.”

“You…” your mouth is dry, suddenly able to recall all the things you’d planned to say to him if you ever saw him again. A plan to rub all of your success in his face, hopes of having another beer to toss.

Brendan squints at you, then around the store. He scoffs, “So…this is what you’re doing, huh?”

You’re faintly aware of the door chiming as you take a step away from him, back pressed to the shelves as he takes a step towards you, arm caging you in. “What’s a girl like you, still working in a place like this, babe?”

Why can this guy do this to you? How does he make you feel so small?

“Don’t…don’t call me that.”

Your head shakes, but that seems to be about the only thing your body remembers how to do.

Brendan pouts his lips, mistaking your breathless panic as being smitten, as being nervous around him for a totally different reason. “You used to like it.”

He touches your waist and in your peripheral you see Robin take a step towards the phone as he speaks lowly, “You know, I never thanked you.

After you threw that beer at me and he kicked my ass, I actually took it seriously. Passed Biology, graduated. I work at a law firm now.”

His hand runs up your waist, squeezing just below your ribs as he leans in, “I feel like I should take you out, to say thank you, babe.”

Your mouth parts, but someone else beats you to it.

“Pretty sure she made it clear not to call her that.”

Brendan backs away from you, if only slightly, to look at Steve standing at the end of the aisle.

“Seriously? Go ring up my rental,” Brendan snorts, tossing the tape at him harshly before he turns back to you. “Where were we, babe?”

Steve’s reflexes let him catch it, while he glares and grits through clenched teeth, “Call her that one more time, see what happens.”

“I’m not a drunk high schooler anymore Harrington, don’t think I have anything to worry about. Right bab-“

Steve’s fist connects with Brendan’s jaw, sending him staggering away from you. Steve’s eyes are on you, frantic as he breathes heavily and pants out, “Are you oka-shit!”

Brendan barrels into Steve, knocking him down to the ground, fists connecting with his stomach and the side of his head.

You shout out both of their names, shoving at Brendan to get off of Steve who coughs after the hits stop coming.

Brendan staggers to a stand, swiping at a bloody nose and spitting at Steve. You stand and shove at his chest, “Get out! Before we call the cops on you, you arrogant, pathetic-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brendan waves you off, “Fucking deserve each other.”

The door swings shut behind him, and you stare ahead, breathing heavily, sure it’s the rain running down the glass making your vision blur.

“Steve?” Robin’s on the ground next to his head.

He moans, but motions for her to help him up as you turn back around, so she swats at his chest, “Why’d you do that! What is wrong with you? He could have killed you, you idiot!”

“Christ Robin,” he grumbles, “I’m fine, just-hey.”

Steve’s over to you in two steps, bloodied and bruised hands cupping your cheeks and swiping at them.

Even through blurred vision, you can see the bright reds and darkening purple on his forehead, your fingers brush the scrape that’s just above the two freckles on his cheek.

“Thanks,” you hiccup out of a sob trying to break.

“Of course,” he murmurs, thumbs still brushing over your cheeks gently, “What are…” he swallows, “What are friends for?”

The sob cracks just as the thunder does and Steve shakes his head, eyes big and worried, “Hey, hey, come on, that asshole is not worth these and I’m not either and-“

“St-Steve,” you sniffle, interrupting him. Trying to reign in all the extremely big feelings that have been held back for a long time, “Will you drive me home?”

He looks surprised but quickly nods, “Yeah, yeah of course honey.”

“Steve, I really don’t think you should be dri-“

Robin’s hesitation cut off from the look he gives her and answered only with her eye roll.

Your hands shake in your lap, fingers playing with the seams of your jeans as Steve drives silently. The radio plays softly, lost in the rain pelting the windshield and the swoosh of the wipers getting it off. It’s only when you make it to your street that you finally are brave enough to talk again.

“How,” you clear your throat, sniffling away any residual tears, “How are you doing? With the storm I mean?”

“Oh,” Steve nods, frowning at the road, “Yeah, good.”

“Was that…was it real?” Gaze falling to your lap as you dare to ask.

“What?” He stops at an intersection, looking over at you, ducking his head to catch your gaze. “What do you mean? The storms? There’s no way, you gave them too much credit. Those kids are smart, but they’re not that smart.”

“No, I mean…are you even afraid of storms? Or was that just another part of the plan? Was it real?”

Steve blinks at you until a horn honks behind him and he nods as he pulls away, “Yeah, yeah it was real.”

You nod and he looks at your profile as you stare out the windshield, tear stained cheeks and bottom lip bitten raw, your hands won’t stop fiddling with things. When he pulls into the parking lot of the complex, he faces you.

“Is that why you won’t talk to me? You won’t even be my friend? Because you think it wasn’t real?”

Your shoulders rise in a shrug, heart beating harder than it ever has as Steve shakes his head. He reaches for you, but hesitates, murmuring a plead.

“Please look at me honey?”

Your exhale is shaky, eyes watery again as you do what he’s asked. Heart’s What About Love starts playing. You close your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as you swipe at your cheeks.

When you open them again, Steve is watching you carefully, and he speaks so softly, so sincerely, like he wants you to have to lean in to hear what he has to say.

“Everything was real. Eddie let me take you to the diner and Robin put on Peter Gabriel, but that’s it. I swear, honey. How you reacted to those things, what I said, what you said, all of it, was real. And I thought, at my house, I thought it was clear how much I want you.”

Tears rapidly fall down your cheeks as you nod, “Okay, but, what happens if you only want me because you can’t have me?”

“What?” Steve looks at you, frowning, eyes glassy.

Your hands swipe at your eyes as you shrug again. “What happens when you get what you were chasing, but another, more challenging want, comes along?”

He swallows, looks up at you with his own watery eyes, “You really think that’s all I want? Do you hate me that much?”

Images of your hand in his on a ferris wheel stir in your mind, of what could have happened after you threw that beer in Brendan’s face, images of a kiss and another kiss and another until you’re crying again.

As you lean over the console, you whisper against his skin before pressing a kiss to the two freckles on his cheek.

“Never hated you.”

You’re quick to climb out of his car, and run through the rain up your stairs and slam the door on the storm. Your back falls against it as you suck in a breath and cry, the lamp and radio flicking on as you do.

Heart’s song that was just playing in his car stops, and a familiar tune starts playing. It’s melody making you think of Steve between shelves, whistling. Making you think of a pool table in a basement on Cornwallis Street.

Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you try to get your breathing under control.

What if Steve Harrington has been chasing you all these years, but it’s never been about the chase, he just didn’t know you kept changing the rules and finish line on him? What if all he’s ever wanted was to run the race alongside you?

Robin’s voice accompanies REO Speedwagon’s, making you spin towards the door.

Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?

As you fling the door open, wondering if you can catch him, Steve’s fist raises to pound on it.

He stands on the stoop, rain pouring down, making his hair stick to his forehead and his eyes squint.

“Give me one more chance,” he breathes heavily, his car lights and wipers still going from the space below.

The music from inside your apartment plays loudly as he takes a step towards you and keeps pleading.

“I’ll literally get on my knees right now, honey. I am begging you, to give me one chance. One date. No help from Eddie or Robin. Nobody. Just me, and you. Let me prove it’s real. Let me prove it to you?”

It’s the moment right before a storm starts, when it’s like the earth is taking a deep breath of, soaking up the silence before it won’t get a chance of clam again for who knows how long.

He blinks at you through rain droplets clinging to his eyelashes, squinting under a bruised forehead and pouting through kissable lips. Your voice wobbles even after you shove the butterflies back down, giving them no chance to escape, not yet.

“Ask me nicely.”

BICFTF TAGLIST: Thank you SO much 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf @khena @ytgus @starryeyedpoet17

@halfburntout @belle101200

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic #cw injury #cw blood #cw marijuana

156 notes · View notes

reveluving · 6 months

Note

But just, imagine Graves is suuuuuch a hard ass to you in front of his men and a total ass (almost more than he is to his other men) so it doesn’t seem like he’s giving you favoritism and doesn’t make it obvious that you two are doin’ the dirty dooooo. But behind closed doors Graves gives you whatever you want. Want to go on a specific mission? Sure. What a shiny new gun? Absolutely. Want him to bed you over in his office and just devour you(I imagine this mans is such a giver)? Fuck yes. Wanna blow him under his desk while he’s on the phone with Shepherd? He’s already rock hard and ready. AHHHHG It’s just Warren’s Graves’ damn smile. 🫠

WARREN'S GRAVES’ SMILE MAKES ME INSANE TOO, BABY! I FEEL YOU 🤲🏼😭

Includes: mentions of s~mut; oral s~ex, both m & f receiving (minors DNI!), sugar daddy-ish Graves (but he loves tf outta you), this man is a GONER.

COD x shy!wife thots closed! Thank you, everyone, for your time & amazing minds! I sincerely hope I can do this again with y'all soon! 💌

Come & check out my COD m.list!

Pray for this man because Phil knew he was done for as soon as he first saw you ✋🏼😔

Him being extra hard on you (in more ways than one) isn’t necessarily in terms of raising his voice more than the authoritative tone he already uses, but more so with an intense stare, or a deeper tone, you know? A stare which I feel like it takes everything in you not to do anything embarrassing as you stand with your team, be it a moan or a slight indication of you rubbing your thighs together.

And it takes everything in him not to express his satisfaction the way he would behind closed doors.

No doubt you can take whatever he gives as a commander, just like how he treats the rest of his team—you were a soldier before you were his, after all. But as soon as you and him get together, he has some sense of not letting his ego take charge in a disrespectful sense just to prove a point in front of his company.

Listen, he’s not a relationship guy. He’s had his fair share long ago, only to opt for one-nighters with his line of work.

But now? He wouldn’t even dream of being in anyone’s presence (and bed) other than yours.

You may as well mistake a Cupid’s bow accidentally shooting him each time the two of you are in private; raising your hands to his lips with a warmer look in his eyes, tugging you by the hand to sit on his lap as soon as you lock his office door, personally tending to your injuries. Or if the wound needs further medical attention, he'll come to check up on you once the professionals have settled their part.

Picture this: on your day off, you and him in bed after ‘sexc time’, cuddling in bed while looking out of the gigantic hotel windows, though really, Phil’s just looking at you and how the city lights just shine on your skin.

But back to buying you shit!

Whether you’re the kind to react to his exorbitant gifts bashfully or immediately thank him by showering his face with lipstick-stained kisses, there is nothing in the world he wouldn’t get for you. Even with a mere glance at an item as you window shop, don’t be surprised to find it under your pillow or suspiciously slipped into one of your bags at the barracks. So, the second he notices your eyes linger on something, he will buy it, with or without your knowledge.

This is just my two cents, but most, if not, all of the blorbos I've written for have a deep passion for you in red lipstick, and Phil is no doubt a part of that list. Even if you can't wear it all the time for obvious reasons, he wants you to keep it with you at all times.

Because there are days when the two of you can't be in the same team together, much to his dismay, say, because of speciality differences, so one of you is needed elsewhere.

So, when one day, you surprise him with a little gift before his departure by leaving a pretty red kiss mark on a piece of card, handkerchief or even on the glass of his watch, just know it'll be an always-thing. A habit, if you will, even if you're on the same team at that moment.

Missions, too, even if he downright hates your choices. Again, your respect over his own ego. He won’t stop you, and he has no right to, but expect to be in the same regime/team as his. Should anything happen to you, and he prays to God nothing does, he’ll be the first to find you.

When days off seem so far, though, his office is where the ✨️ magic happens ✨️.

It’s a common meeting place for the two of you, be it for sharing food you snuck out of the kitchen or letting him take his frustrations out by smothering his face in between your luscious thighs while you lay back on his desk. His office just has more life whenever you arrive. The reports can wait, he’s (mostly) his own boss, after all. The time you both have is more precious.

And the part about you blowing him under his desk while he’s on the phone is so real of you.

He’s able to drone out Shepherd’s voice on the other end of the call because he knows the general’s just repeating what they’ve discussed days or hours prior. Phil’s more focused on your glassy eyes, struggling to encompass his sheer girth in your pretty little mouth, all while attempting to smile behind your tears. Looking up at him as he tilts his head back onto the office chair and occasionally bucks his hips while he disguises his moans with mindless grunts as if he had been listening to Shepherd yapping in the first place.

“Mhm, right, right…” His jaw clenched, eyes lidded and a lazy smile worth making you whine around his cock as he stared down at you. His phone was pressed in between his shoulder and ear as he rested his forearm on the head of the chair. The other hand brushed your hair back, enjoying the way your cheeks became just a tad more prominent at his gentle touches.

“Yeah, I’ll call you back about it,” He wanted to roll his eyes, initially at the thought of having to face him again, only for it to drag into a groan when the tip of his touched the back of your throat. He tossed his phone as soon as the call ended, a smirk returning to his face when he could finally focus on you. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

You choked a little when he gently pushed you to take him even more.

Oh, he wanted to hear more of that sound.

“You can take more o’me, can’t ya?”

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

Bonus:

Have you guys seen this video with the guy testing out a pink gun with a teddy bear keychain? THAT. Is most definitely the kind of gift that he’d definitely get for you at first sight. Deadass would twirl my hair if he got that for me.

I imagine that if your team learned about the pink gun (whether or not you added that Phil bought it for you), I just find it hilarious that they’d think it wouldn’t have a strong recoil since you didn’t seem to have a problem with it. And as soon as they give it a try, they just jerk back so violently, and Phil’s watching with the most infuriating smirk on his face since he’s seen you play and pose with it when you shoot, taking the drawbacks like no problem 😭😭

» gorgeous rose divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics ♡

218 notes · View notes