#that side eye from the donkey though | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stellewriites · 3 months ago

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PART TWO

summary: by chance you and your emotionally unavailable husband meet a friendly couple that invite you stay at their farmhouse in scotland. however the time spent there with johnny & kyle has you questioning if there’s a dark side to them you didn’t see before.

a speak no evil au - masterlist

notes: manipulative johnny & kyle, piv, noncon, somno, never explicitly acknowledged abusive relationship between reader and her husband (financial, physical, emotional, coercive control), drinking, murder, it’s dead dove horror people!! heed the warnings

despite your best efforts, elliot’s words had gotten to you the night before and it had made you cautious to sit downstairs for breakfast; hyperaware of yourself and what kyle and johnny must have thought of you.

you decided to nip down to say good morning - it was only polite - and while you were there you could grab two coffees for yourself and elliot.

you ran into gaz as soon as you got down the stairs.

“morning, sleep ok? johnny said you weren’t hungry last night,” kyle said as soon as he saw you walk into the kitchen, a little concerned frown and pout pulling at his pretty face. “can i make you an omelette? pancakes?”

“pancakes?” you couldn’t help but ask with a smirk.

“johnny likes ‘em.” you snorted.

“an omelette would be good, thanks.”

kyle immediately got up and got to work in the kitchen, letting you take his seat so you were sat closest to the kitchen counter he stood at.

“where is johnny this morning?”

“out with the donkey, loves the early mornings. don’t think his body can get out of the habit of them,” kyle said with a fond roll of his eyes. “means i get to stay in bed and extra thirty though, so i don’t complain.”

he grabbed a mug from the cupboard when the electric kettle clicked off and made a quick drink.

“coffee?” he slid it onto the table next to you. “husband can’t knick this one, eh?”

“oh, thanks.” you took a long sip despite the heat.

“how’d you sleep?” kyle asked again, watching you.

“yeah, good, slept right through,” you lied. you’d tossed and turned all night with elliot groaning in his sleep and you knew you had bags under your eyes to prove it.

kyle nodded and turned back to the eggs he was scrambling in the pan alongside the grated cheese and chopped vegetables he’d chucked in.

“johnny had a great idea last night, and i don’t say that often,” kyle joked. “we thought we could take you out to this little restaurant, up near ballo reservoir and the ruins. it’s ran by an old mate of ours.”

“that sounds fun, yeah,” you agree. you smile a little wider when he turns around with your omelette and sits next to you. you look down at the plate and gawp. “bloody hell, that’s a big omelette.”

kyle laughed. “yeah i figured why make more pots to wash when we could just share,” he said and revealed two forks.

“oh.” you blinked. “…ok.”

kyle didn’t wait for you to change your mind before he was using the side of his fork to cut a mouthful of the omelette off.

“second day in the highlands, what were you thinking of doing?”

you finished chewing your own bite before answering. “elliot will need help during the day i think. hopefully he’ll be able to get a stable enough wifi connection to check his work emails.”

“fuck that,” gaz scoffed. “you should help me in the garden. johnny will sort out your husband if he needs a hand; soap’s got odd jobs around the house he’s doing to keep his hands busy anyways, so it’s no trouble for him to keep an eye on elliot.”

you hesitated, knowing elliot wouldn’t appreciate johnny’s rough handling, but you found it nigh impossible to say no to kyle’s big kind eyes. especially when he was leant in so close.

“then i guess i’m gardening today,” you said bashfully.

---

he showed you around the chicken coop first, let you throw a bit of grain down so the hens would swarm closer as you squatted down among them to pet lightly at their feathers.

“made the henhouse myself,” kyle told you smugly, his chest puffing out further when your head snapped towards him.

“no you fucking didn’t,” you said, your eyes raked over it as if seeing it fresh.

“alright, maybe i had a bit of help from a friend, john - not my johnny - was always handy in his time off during the service. gave him a call an’ he helped me figure it out when my first attempt didn’t go so well,” kyle admitted sheepishly.

you snickered and walked up to the small shed-like structure. you could see it was lovingly made, each decision during its creation had a practical use.

“you and johnny ran into any hobbies or skills you’re not good at?” you joked.

kyle huffed a laugh and tugged you out towards the vegetable plot across the garden. “can’t say we have, love.”

“oh, fuck you,” you laughed and shoved him as you came up to the first raised bed, knocking him of kilter.

“hey, hey watch for the onions,” he laughed as his knee bumped into the wooden side holding the budding vegetables.

“god, this place is huge,” you said wistfully as you rounded to the next bed and noticed the handmade markers.

carrots

tomms

tatties

gaz’s awful radishes

you grinned before running your hands gently along the beans growing high intertwined with the arches joining the raised beds to create a path down the centre towards the greenhouse.

“have some if you’d like,” kyle said and gestured to the pea pod resting on your fingers.

your gripped it tighter and tugged, pressing at the seam gently until it popped. the peas inside were huge, but it was always the crunchy casing that you enjoyed. you took a bite as gaz led you to the greenhouse and let out a deep hum at the refreshing taste.

“just wait until you try the strawberries,” he said teasingly, sliding open the the glass door.

he grabbed a clean empty bowl from the side and handed you it as you crouched to look at the strawberry plants lined up to the right of the spacious greenhouse.

“go ahead.”

you grinned and started picking the ripe ones, sneaking one or two to eat when kyle leant over your shoulder to steal his own.

you dropped the bowl off in the kitchen to rinse later on your way down to the barn.

“weren’t we gardening? why are we going to the barn?” you asked as he led you across the gravel and around the back of the garage.

he pulled open the barn doors with a grunt.

“to grab an extra pair of gardening gloves, but also to check up on marmite. she’s been a bit ill recently, caught her foot on something sharp in her paddock the other day so we’ve been trying to keep her still while she recovers,” kyle said and led you to the stable on the right.

you frowned before you saw the sweet little donkey stood, chomping at its bucket of hay.

“oh my god,” you whispered. “you actually have a donkey.”

kyle frowned at you, confused. “said so earlier didn’t i?”

“i couldn’t tell if you were pulling my leg or not.” you reached out and she slowly lumbered over to you, an obvious limp in one front leg. “will she be ok?”

“oh yeah, vet said she just needed to rest it, nothing major,” he reassured you. “plus she’s been through worse, she’s tough.”

you made an inquisitive noise as you gently petted between her ears and down to her nose.

“when we first found her she was pretty sick, left to rot in a field nearby, so we took her in. took a while for her to get back to full health, but now marmite gets to relax in her own paddock with the few sheep the neighbours let roam. sometimes we take her to the farmer’s market on the weekend when it’s good weather. she likes the work and the kids like to pet her, increases sales when people realise we’re authentic.” he scruffed roughly, but lovingly, under her ear before patting her neck. “give her another month and she’ll be back pulling her cart.”

you cooed, heart melting at the thought of her pulling her own cart with kids petting at her sides. “wait you called her marmite?” the donkey lifted her head at her name.

you bit your lip trying not to laugh as kyle turned an offended look towards you. “it’s a good name,” he defended.

you shook your head.

“this place is so fucking wonderful, kyle,” you said. “i think i could stay here forever,” you whispered.

he pulled you into his side and kissed your temple. “could if you wanted.”

you laughed at his joke and rolled your eyes. “oh yeah the commute to elliot’s work would be fine,” you teased.

kyle shrugged. “i’m sure we could find a solution to that.” you grabbed the gloves and a trowel and headed back towards the garden on a slow walk, waving to johnny through the kitchen window as you passed. “let’s get started on the garden, johnny’s wanting the rhubarb up.”

“making pie?”

“we were planning on going to the market in a couple of days time, if you wanted to come with us,” kyle offered casually. “it’s not like the overpriced shit they do in the city.”

you grinned and nodded. “do they always run it mid-week?”

“mid week every other week and the first weekend of every month,” he said. “you’ve missed the weekend one, which is a shame because it’s always busy and more vendors come.”

“i’m sure i’ll have a blast either way,” you reassured him. “will i be given free cheese like at the place des lices?”

kyle grinned, sharp and teasing. “i’ll bring a block with us if it keeps you hovering by me and johnny’s stall.”

you snorted and elbowed him as you reached the garden again. “behave.”

you dropped to a squat and started rustling through the large green leaves of the rhubarb until you found the base, twisting and pulling until it popped loose.

you chucked it into the bucket between you and gaz and grinned as he started to work beside you.

---

you spent the rest of the afternoon with him in the garden, only stopping to have lunch on the outside table - sandwiches johnny brought out with a teapot and two mugs on a tray - and gathered all of the vegetables and fruit that needed picking, whether to cook for themselves or for the market.

“do you go every week then?” you asked as you finally headed back to the house with your hands full and mucky from the soil.

your forehead was sweaty from the hard work but you didn’t feel uncomfortable, it felt good to have been useful and busy again.

“the market?” you nodded. “nah, we don’t have a big enough plot for growing. and it doesn’t bring enough in to make it worth it to expand. we just find it fun, enjoy getting out and seeing the locals every so often.”

“yeah you could probably go crazy staying out here alone for too long,” you laughed as you walked ahead of him into the house. “with sheep as your closest neighbours.”

kyle bit the inside of his cheek but you didn’t notice his silence.

“hey, good day?” you called out to your husband sat in the next room as you placed the vegetables on the table. when he didn’t reply you went through, careful to take your shoes off first so not to track mud inside. you leant over the back of the sofa and kissed his cheek, frowning when he sharply pulled away, glaring forward at the tv. “elliot?”

he stayed silent.

you slowly stood back up straight and waited for any sort of reaction for him before heading back to the kitchen. you knew how he got when he was in a foul mood, and you could see this one a mile off, there was no reason to push your luck.

stuck in your own head you were taken by surprise when johnny suddenly grabbed you by the hips, his bright eyes and toothy smile an inch too close to be casual as you looked up at him.

“fuckin’ hell, yer glowing, lass,” he boasted. “farm work looks good on ye.”

he patted one hip and winked before letting you go to clung to his husband. leant over kyle’s shoulder at the sink where he was rinsing the soil away from his hands and the root veg you’d picked, johnny pulled his husband’s chin towards him and kissed him.

you felt rooted to the spot as the pair opened their mouths wide enough to slip their tongues against the other’s, spit slicking lips and connecting what little space was given in thin strings as they swapped soft moans and heavy breaths. it was a private moment, intimate, but you couldn’t pull yourself away even as your stomach tightened and your throat became dry.

they pulled away, barely an inch, but enough for gaz to speak.

“don’t forget about that restaurant tonight, love,” he directed at you. “dress up a little, it’s like a chef’s table.”

your husband perked up from the other room at the mention of a chef’s table - never one to pass on an opportunity that made him look rich and important like the man he worked for, always searching for another story to brag about to his mates.

“what time? is the chef anyone i’d have heard of?”

johnny stifled a mocking laugh into kyle’s shoulder, one hand wandering beneath gaz’s jumper.

“nah, mate, he’s a bit lowkey this guy. doesn’t do social media or the like. invite only to his place.”

elliot’s eyebrows raised and he leant further over the sofa arm to talk. “and we’ve been invited then?”

“aye. we have.”

“do you want help changing, elliot?” you asked, but before your husband could find fault in your offer, johnny interrupted.

“i’ll help the wee injured lad, hen. you go get all bonnie for the meal, take your time getting all fancy f’r it,” he said, finally detaching himself from kyle.

“oh, ok.” you nodded when elliot didn’t immediately complain and headed upstairs, grimacing at the soil beneath your fingernails that you still hadn’t washed off. you sniffed yourself and grimaced at the thin layer of sweat clinging to you. you grabbed your towel and headed to the bathroom.

“fancy,” you’d scoffed to yourself in your bedroom after a quick shower.

you weren’t sure you could count anything you’d packed for the week as fancy or pretty enough for an invite-only restaurant.

you pulled out a black dress you’d packed in case you and elliot got some time alone. now that you were here you knew how unlikely that was but you were appreciating the foresight now.

the dress wasn’t anything special, not something you’d have chosen to eat out in if you had access to your other clothes at home; it went below your knees but the plunge of the neckline would have elliot grinding his teeth if you wore it around gaz and soap.

you bit your lip before making the split second decision to wear it anyway. a voice at the back of your head whispering insistently and repeatedly that kyle and johnny would love it.

you finished getting ready before considering the shoes you’d brought with you.

your hiking boots, trainers, and a pair of floral patterned wellies. “fuck.”

hadn’t thought that far ahead when you’d packed the dress, clearly. you sighed and headed down the stairs anyway. smiling when you caught johnny and kyle’s eyes.

“trying to kill us, hen? where have ye been hiding this little number?”

“give us a spin,” kyle ordered, and you followed suit without a second thought.

“yer a lucky man, elliot. very lucky indeed.” johnny patted your husband’s shoulder. “go get yer shoes on, hen, and we’ll set off.”

you felt your cheeks heat. you pointed down to your trainers next to the door. “i don’t have anything i can wear with them except my trainers,” you winced.

“oh that won’t do, what size are ye?” johnny asked, waiting by the door until you answered. “same size as my sister then. she’s left a few bits here when she’s visited before, i’ll see if i can find anythin’ in storage. she’d nae mind.”

he was gone and back again in a flash and you were handed a pair of black heels to step into. you thanked him and shakily stood, the heel far taller than what you were used to and the strap thin and barely providing support.

“oh god,” you huffed as you wobbled in place.

“need a hand?” johnny offered his arm and you clung on as you headed towards the door.

“christ, it’ll take all night to get to the car with her like this,” elliot complained behind you, kyle supporting him under his arm.

“i don’t think you’re one to talk right now since she’s still looking steadier on her feet than you,” kyle said bluntly. elliot’s ankle had lost the swelling and was simply wrapped beneath his socks and shoes for support, but he’d never been good with pain and you knew he’d take an extra few days to make sure his suffering was known.

you were inclined to agree with kyle that the injury was small, just needed a bit of rest to heal, but the bruising around the bone had you worrying about elliot driving at the end of the week and wondering if it had been worse than gaz had figured, and whether a sprain - or god forbid, a break - would need seeing to sooner rather than later.

johnny’s arm had gravitated to hold you around the waist as you drifted in your thoughts, leaving you to grip his wrist and his other hand for stability as he led you towards the car over the gravel. you felt your life flash before your eyes a handful of times as your ankles struggled not to cockle and keep you upright on the short walk, and you sighed in relief when you finally got in the car.

next time you’d wear the bloody wellies if it meant not having to wear shoes like this. god knows how johnny’s sister managed it.

---

kyle and johnny took the time during the drive to boast about simon - the chef and an old friend of theirs - and his restaurant; focusing on his cooking skills and mentioning only that he was a take-no-shit type of bloke, so not to be offended when he wasn’t particularly chatty.

“think the most i’ve ever heard him talk was when i asked what was in that soup he made last time,” soap snorted.

kyle parked up next to the single car parked by the side of the road, his headlights shining on the ruins a few hundred yards ahead of them.

to the right along a small cobbled path was a two story building that looked more like a house from the outside than a restaurant.

behind it sat the reservoir, black and still in the low moonlight.

the location was gorgeous but solitary and you wondered how he kept his lights on without foot traffic before laughing at your thoughts. it’s invite-only, this guy - simon, you reminded yourself - obviously didn’t need foot traffic to get by.

you held on to johnny tightly once more as you walked towards the building and found that its outside looks deceived you when you stepped inside and found the front room had been renovated into the dining area. it sat only one table in the centre but it was cosy, welcoming, professional. you assumed the back section of the old house’s ground floor had been adapted into a professional kitchen and storage space.

johnny led the group towards the lone table, big enough to seat four, and pulled out your chair, taking his seat opposite you after.

you’d been sat barely a minute before the door to the back swung open and a large, hulking man wearing a surgery mask and an apron walked over. he untied his apron once gaz stood up, holding it in one hand when the shorter man leant in for a hug, slinging his trunk of an arm over kyle’s shoulders.

“good to see you again, simon,” gaz said as he pulled back. “how you been doing?”

“good,” simon grunted, with a nod. he waved johnny forward with a weary flick of his wrist, but you could see the fondness in his eyes when johnny clapped his back and clung on.

“cannae wait ta see what you’ve got planned fer us t’night, si,” johnny said as he pulled back.

“wait ten minutes an’ you’ll find out, won’ ya?” simon said.

johnny huffed.

“simon, this is the couple we were telling you about that we’d met last month,” kyle said.

“french riviera.” simon nodded.

“nice to meet you,” you said. “these two were singing your praise on the way over so i’m excited to be here.”

simon smiled at you before flicking his towards kyle and johnny with a raised eyebrow.

you felt like you were being made fun of, talked about despite the silence, and you didn’t like it.

“when’s first course then simon?” johnny asked.

simon sighed. “was waiting for you to turn up, wasn’t i?” he said before slinking off to the back, barely sparing a glance for your husband during the entire exchange.

you’d quickly forgotten the uneasy feeling when the food came out; stuffed mushrooms for the starter and lamb served with smoked aubergine and caramelised onions and a robuchon-style mash that you’d practically inhaled after the first bite for the main. now you were just eagerly awaiting dessert.

it was overall one of the best meals you’d ever had, only highlighted by the fruity cocktails simon had impressed you all with and the silly jokes he’d told when he poured them. you didn’t know how he managed it all alone; or you assumed he was alone, with no conversations bleeding out from the kitchen when the doors opened and no face other than simon’s seen.

you slouched in your chair, wholly satisfied with the evening, and reached to hold elliot’s hand on the table at the same time that gaz looked to johnny lovingly.

he leant in and gently kissed his cheek, pulling back to stare in one another’s eyes and share the moment just between the two.

elliot sniffed at the display, looking down at his plate. “so you two, how’d you meet again?”

“met officially when we were put on a mission together, but i’d see johnny around base and at the nearest pub on our days off before that,” kyle said.

“he didnae have the time of day fer me at first,” johnny laughed, his arm moving under the table as he rubbed at kyle’s thigh.

“saw him strike out with half the men and women in the bar, gave me the ick,” gaz joked. “asked me out more than a dozen times.”

“an’ yet he was the one that got down on one knee all teary eyed in the end,” johnny disclosed.

“realised thick-headed scot’s were my type after all, came to my senses,” kyle cooed.

“sorry, you said men and women?” elliot asked, suddenly visibly invested in the conversation.

his eyes were sharp and you new he was thinking back to your conversation in france when you’d reassured him neither man would be interested in flirting with you. you were still convinced they were just tactile people, especially given how they had greeted simon, but you had to admit that the last few days had been filled with odd moments that had you questioning your own feelings. either way you knew elliot would be like a dog with a bone after this, would try and use it to cause an argument after such a great evening.

“aye. he did.” johnny nodded.

“so you’re not… gay then,” elliot hedged.

you kicked his leg beneath the table and gaz snorted.

“nah mate. we’re not,” gaz said.

“so then…”

“elliot,” you hissed. “stop prying.”

“i’m bi,” kyle said with an easy shrug before elliot could react to your reprimand.

your eyes flickered to johnny, meeting the bright blue head on as he was already watching you before he looked at your husband.

“i don’t put labels on things, limits me,” johnny sniffed. he looked back to you as he spoke next. “i like pretty people with bonnie accents and big doe eyes. like gaz here.” he turned to his husband with a cheeky grin.

gaz snorted again, mirthfully this time.

“cannae say no to him ever, jus’ ask him,” johnny said and you silently agreed.

“like you ever want to, i’m full of good ideas.” gaz pouted.

“why ye asking anyway, elliot? feeling the urge to join us?” johnny licked at his teeth, predatory as he stared down your husband.

elliot choked out a startled ‘no’ and shook his head, making the couple laugh at his urgent insistence.

“for the best i think. i dunno if you’d be able to keep up, no offence,” gaz said condescendingly. “we don’t tend to play vanilla.”

your eyes widened as a sudden slew of scenarios involving the two handsome men in front of you flashed before your eyes. you did your best to keep your face straight even as elliot frowned and scoffed.

“what, you like to tie each other up?” he rolled his eyes with a huff of a laugh.

kyle didn’t rise to the bait. “we do all sorts. don’t think there’s much we haven’t tried at this point.”

johnny grinned at him.

“even like… gags and spanking?” you asked, sudden and unbidden, the words needing to be answered even as you felt your entire body heat in embarrassment.

“yeah, hen, we’ve tried those a few times,” johnny said gently but eagerly. his foot knocked against yours beneath the table and you fought not to jump or flinch. “what we’re into at the moment though is roleplay.”

“can have a lot of fun with it,” kyle agreed.

“you’re kidding me,” elliot said, disbelief colouring his voice.

“not at all, watch,” johnny said before standing, hooking his napkin over his arm and holding it in front of him like a waiter. he cleared his throat before lilting his voice slightly higher, like he was using his ‘phone voice’. “was everything to your satisfaction tonight?”

“it was fantastic,” kyle said, immediately playing along. he slouched into his chair. “the dessert though, was a little lackluster. i wanted something with a bit of a bite.”

johnny raised his eyebrow. “i might be able to help with that, sir.” he leant forward as though to grab his plate, but instead knocked his fork to the floor. “oh no, silly me.”

“you better grab that, hm?” kyle asked, spreading his legs as johnny immediately fell to his knees, crowding close.

kyle looked over at you and elliot and grinned at your shocked, engrossed faces. he lifted the table cloth and covered johnny’s head and curved back. he hid one hand beneath, resting it on the back of his husband’s head, scratching through his mohawk.

your breath started to come short as you heard the fly of kyle’s trousers go and then suddenly it was all you could do not to squirm and add to the noises coming from the other side of the table. the room was silent, not a word from your husband for the first time in years, and the kitchen seemed to have stilled while johnny hummed and gagged.

kyle groaned and huffed, his smiles tilting the breathless noises into half laughs as johnny seemingly sucked the life out of him.

you’d never held yourself so still, not daring to check what elliot’s reaction was as you stared between kyle’s pleasured face and johnny’s bobbing head beneath the cloth.

suddenly the pair stopped, and johnny threw the table cloth up with a grin, laughing alongside kyle as you and you and your husband tried to catch your bearings at the reveal of the unconventional joke.

“just fuckin’ with ye,” johnny said as he sat back in his chair.

you shakily laughed along, avoiding eye contact as you pressed a hand to one cheek, hoping to ease the heat you could feel emanating, knowing that between your legs was no better.

“don’t worry we’d ask before including you in anything,” kyle said. “even if we just wanted you to watch.”

“though when we open up the relationship it’s usually to get the third person involved. cannae help but touch, watching’s nae enough,” johnny added, heated as he glanced at you.

“i’ve never done that before,” you said softly, too brusk to be a whisper. “be with two people at once that is.”

you hadn’t realised elliot had spoken at the same time, his words only just registering as you watched johnny’s gaze simmer.

“we’re not interested.”

we.

there he went answering for the both of you again.

“right?” he pushed.

you looked at him out of the corner of your eye, fearful of what his reaction would be until johnny’s foot knocked yours again. you felt a sudden surge of confidence.

“i think this might be the first time you’ve ever said no to having sex with someone that wasn’t me, elliot.”

your husband sputtered, only embarrassed further when gaz whistled low and soap shook his head, privy already to the failings of your relationship and at a loss as to why your husband could have ever made the choices he had.

“well, if yer not up to it, elliot, we wouldnae push,” johnny said. “in fact it’d mean you’d have the entire bed to ye’self while we kept bonnie company for the night. more room fer you to spread out as ye sleep.”

you felt your body run cold as you thought back to your first night; you’d thought perhaps one of them had overheard elliot’s thoughtless comments but you hadn’t realised they’d heard the entire conversation.

you laughed awkwardly at johnny’s suggestion as elliot insisted a little too seriously that nothing of the like would be happening.

simon thankfully interrupted the stand off between the three men at the table as he brought through dessert; a light chocolate sorbet with fresh raspberries.

you thanked him and took the opportunity to share the joke you’d been trying to remember since simon had shared his first pun when he’d brought out the starters.

“how does a french chef respond to bad egg jokes?” you asked and waited for simon’s shrug. “oeuf..."

you saw his eyes crinkle and assumed that was as close to a laugh that you’d get, feeling quite pleased with yourself.

“that’s a shit joke,” he said, but the amusement was clear in his voice. “enjoy your dessert.”

“thank you.” you took a big bite, groaning deep at the rich taste and tartness of the fruit. the prospect of brain-freeze unable to slow you down.

“fucking hell, would you behave?” elliot hissed in your ear.

gaz dropped his spoon with a clatter, and sniffed harshly, looking across at elliot with clear disdain.

“you need to stop disrespecting her, mate. she’s an adult, she’s enjoying a meal; leave her alone.”

“was i talking to you?” elliot said back, eager for the fight. “you don’t see me interfering with your relationship.”

“yeah, exactly. your lips were sealed when you thought johnny had my dick in his mouth at the table, but now you think you can get snappy?”

“she’ll learn her manners even if she does insist on being friends with you two,” elliot said.

you felt anger bubble at being ignored, talked about as though you weren’t there by both men.

johnny noticed your discomfort and nudged gaz, his posture loosening when he saw your lowered head, jutted jaw and the embarrassed purse of your lips.

“maybe we’ve all had too much to drink,” johnny said appeasingly. “more than we’d realised. simon’s always been a strong pour.”

“i agree. not that the cocktails weren’t lovely, but they must’ve gone to everyone’s heads quicker than expected. they were moorish,” you laughed, though it sounded thin and fake to your own ears.

gaz huffed through his nose heavily. he nodded and looked at you as he spoke. “i’ll go settle up with simon. if you need a hand walking back to the car you could wait with me?”

you nodded when elliot didn’t protest and johnny got up to help him.

you waited with gaz near the back of the room where simon had set up a little till station, a bowl of mints to the side that you felt swell of fondness for as you looked at them.

simon picked up on the awkward air immediately when he came out from the back, watched with keen eyes as you shuffled from foot to foot and sent anxious glances out the window in between compliments to the food.

“‘m making a cake soon,” he said out of the blue as gaz tapped his card, and you turned back to him, interest piqued. “any recommendations on flavour? bit tied at the minute.”

“oh.” you blinked. “i had a lemon poppyseed cake a few years ago that was to die for.”

simon watched you steadily for a moment before humming. he handed kyle his receipt. “tell johnny it was good t’see ’im.”

“you too, si.”

kyle offered you his arm to walk back to the car and you took it gladly, letting him help you to keep your footing until you were situated in the back with elliot.

the drive back felt exponentially longer in the silence. the lack of music, johnny’s chatter, or even your own ramblings had you on edge.

the silence from elliot continued into the house as he winced and hobbled up the stairs alone, refusing any more help than he’d already been forced to rely upon.

you followed behind him dutifully, mouthing a soft ‘thank you’ to gaz and soap at the stairs before disappearing into your room.

elliot waited for the door to close before he rounded on you.

“‘i’ve never done that before’,” he simpered, pitching his voice higher to mock you.

“elliot, i—“

“go ahead try and explain your way out of that one, hm? practically threw yourself at them,” he spat.

you scoffed.

“its not like i said yes to fucking them,” you reminded him, not mentioning the urge you’d felt at the time to do just that.

“didn’t say no either, did you?” elliot asked, his voice raising. “i think they were planning on bloody bedding you tonight in fact.”

“fucking hell. you’re being dramatic and- and silly,” you said in disbelief. “they were playing around. christ knows if i can get over what you did, then you can deal with them flirting a little.”

he moved swiftly despite his ankle and grabbed your arm tightly, ignoring your sharp gasp as he glared at you. “you need to start listening to me. we’re married, if you remember? so start behaving like it.”

“you’re hurting me, elliot.” when he didn’t let go you nodded quickly and spoke again. “i understand.”

“good.” he nodded and bent down to kiss your lips chastley. “then let’s go to bed.”

he let you go and limped over to the bed. you joined him a moment later, shaken as you tried to calm yourself enough to lay next to him and pretend to sleep.

---

johnny had set up breakfast outside the next morning while kyle had sorted out their few animals and checked for any stray sheep that needed to be shepherded closer to their neighbour’s land; taking their truck around the edge of the property.

“hey, got some brekkie outside if ye want to join? kyle’ll be back any minute now.”

you nodded and helped elliot across the garden as johnny brought the fresh orange juice with him for the table.

you thanked johnny for the broad spread and plated yourself some of the mixed fruit. when you heard a door slam, you turned to the driveway and saw kyle making his way down the side of the house to reach the garden. he waved when he caught you looking, readjusting his cap so his face wasn’t hidden by the brim as he came closer.

he bent to kiss johnny’s scarred temple before taking his seat and stealing a sip of his coffee, wincing at the bitterness.

“you tell ‘em yet?” kyle asked johnny in a low tone, putting the mug back and pouring himself a juice.

“not yet,” johnny replied. he cleared his throat when elliot lifted an eyebrow in question, having stayed stubbornly silent with johnny and now kyle. still moody from the evening before.

johnny sighed, almost awkwardly. “look, we didn’t mean to overhear, but conversations echo in an old home like ours,” he started. you immediately went cold. “there’s been a few things we’ve both heard over the last few days—“

elliot jumped in, finding his voice suddenly in the face of his reputation being squandered, even if it was just johnny and kyle. “whatever you heard was between myself and my wife. it’s an old mistake and we’ve worked through it to heal any wounds caused. we’re happier than ever now, aren’t we?” he threw his arm behind you to rest in the back of your chair, the picture of a perfect couple. you nodded placidly. he turned back to them. “our therapist is fantastic.”

“therapist?” kyle asked.

“yes, a couple’s therapist, but you see her a couple times a month alone too, don’t you, darling?” elliot said.

“we needed someone impartial to help us see through the fog,” you said, repeating the words elliot had used over a year ago to convince you to stay. “we were just running in circles about it.”

kyle nodded. “how’d you find this therapist then?”

“elliot found her,” you said.

“lucky she was such a good fit if she was the first one you tried,” kyle said mirthfully.

“well she’d helped me before so i knew she was good at her job,” elliot let slip.

you stiffened and slowly turned to face him. “what?”

“she just gave me some advice, helped me out of a few toxic relationships when i was younger, darling. nothing serious like us. i haven’t been married before if that’s what you’re thinking,” elliot tried to joke.

it was not what you were thinking. it was not what you were worrying about.

“when you were ‘younger’? you’ve known her for years?” you questioned. “she was meant to be fucking unbiased and you’re telling me you’ve used her to get you out of relationships before? what the fuck, elliot?” you seethed, your voice raising.

“darling—“

“you told me she was trustworthy!” you laughed mirthlessly as you thought back to your first session. “you said you’d never met her before, just another fucking lie for the tally is it? it’s feeling pretty endless at this point,” you scoffed.

elliot’s lips thinned as he pulled his arm back and looked at you, debating his next move.

“we went to university together,” he admitted. “we’re just friends.”

“oh christ, ‘friends’. good to know the woman i’ve been telling my deepest, darkest thoughts to has more personal loyalty to you and whether or not she’d keep my secrets is one too many drinks away,” you spat.

“she takes her work very seriously, she wouldn’t break confidentiality like that. she’s never told me anything you’ve said in a session that i wasn’t there for,” elliot pressed, reaching to hold your hand.

“and why should i believe you?” you yanked your hand back and stood, storming off towards the woodland at the back of the garden.

“always with the dramatics.” elliot shook his head. he stood and took a step to follow you but winced when the pressure on his ankle spiked a sharp ache up his shin.

soap and gaz stayed seated, watching him struggle silently.

when he slumped back into his seat johnny spoke up. “why don’t we take ye back inside? give her some space.”

elliot bit the inside of his cheek but knew disagreeing wasn’t an option. he jerkily nodded once.

kyle kept an eye on you as you stopped near the tree line, smiled, amused, when he saw you kick at a nearby tree trunk. you weren’t going any deeper into the start of the trail so there was no need for them to bother you, you needed time to process and work through your initial anger.

he grabbed a plate for himself and started to eat, grabbing bits he knew johnny would want when he got back. there was no point in wasting a dewy fresh morning and good food just because elliot was a moron.

they’d finished majority of their share of the food when they heard your footsteps heading back. you hadn’t lingered at the end of the grass for long, deciding to join them once more with a ducked head and an embarrassed hunch to your shoulders.

“are ye ok?” johnny asked carefully.

“yeah, yeah. fine. just annoyed, more than anything. embarrassed i made such a scene.”

“don’t be, if it were me ah’d ‘ve gone bananas hearing all’a that.” johnny waved you off.

“there’s only so much someone can take,” kyle added.

you nodded and felt a stray tear slip and in a flash the pair of them were tugging you out of your seat to wrap you in a warm hug.

“thank you, guys,” you said as you squeezed them back. you sent a weary look towards the house as the one thought that had been going around your head for the last half hour - the last year if you were being honest.

you were going to divorce elliot.

“you’ve done so much for us, for me, these last couple of days. how about i cook for you guys tonight? i make a pretty mean lasagne if you’ve got the stuff?”

the couple grinned. “i think we could find what you need.”

you finished your breakfast and headed back inside after the couple waved of your offer to help clear the table.

“we’ve got a bit to catch up on around the farm that we’ve put off since you arrived,” kyle said. “we’ll be back later on, but feel free to go where you like on the property, do what you like.”

“make ye’sen anything from the fridge if ye get hungry,” johnny added.

which left you with a slow day to entertain yourself. with kyle’s. words echoing in your mind you headed to the large bookcase on the living room and grabbed the first book that caught your eye. sitting in the armchair diagonal to the sofa where elliot was watching their tv from, you curled up and silently began to read. you weren’t ready to talk to elliot yet, but you knew he’d need a hand throughout the day and you didn’t want to add onto johnny and kyle’s already long list of things to do.

you caught gaz and soap nipping in and out throughout the day and when it timed right, you refilled their flasks with steaming tea before they were off out again.

the book lasted you the day, thoroughly engrossing you in the story, and elliot played nice for once, giving his p’s and q’s when you handed him a fresh cuppa and even cautiously squeezing your hip in appreciation when you passed by towards the end of the day.

“i’m making lasagne,” you said as he waited for your response.

“sounds lovely, darling.”

you were still angry at him, but it turned to despondency when you saw that johnny had taken the time to set the ingredients aside for you on the counter and in the fridge. elliot had never done that for you.

such small things were missing, it wasn’t just his cheating, but that had been the linchpin for this longwinded realisation that you just weren’t happy together.

you lost yourself in the preparation of the meal, not noticing your company as you started layering the sauces and pasta sheets. johnny and gaz came lumbering in, clearly tired but obviously satisfied with the work they’d completed in the day and hovered by your side.

“ah hen, that looks good. think i could eat the lot t’ ma’sael,” johnny groaned.

“you bloody dare,” kyle threatened, leaning ober his shoulder to see what you were doing. “we’ll clean up upstairs and leave you to it.”

“it should be cooked in the next 40 minutes, so take your time,” you said, gently elbowing them away so you could put the tray in the oven.

they nodded, and you got to cleaning up after yourself.

a nudge at your hip what felt like only a few minutes later had you looking up in surprise and smiling at kyle as he dried the dishes you’d washed. it was painfully domestic and you looked over your shoulder to see johnny wiping down the countertops.

“has kyle told ye ‘bout the market?”

“yeah, in two days’ time right?”

“aye, you should come with us when we go. will be a right laugh,” johnny offered.

“i’d love to,” you agreed, not sparing a thought for how elliot would deal with the journey or get around the market once he was there with you. you wanted to be selfish about this. “what are you thinking of taking?”

“got a fair bit of fruit and veg lined up, some pickles stuff i’ve been working on, a few woodwork projects gaz brings along,” johnny listed.

“you sell your work?”

“just small stuff like fence signs, ‘welcome home’ plaques, small coffee tables,” kyle said bashfully.

“you should bring your charcoal drawings too, johnny, i bet people would love to see their countryside lovingly captured,” you suggested.

“ah, maybe,” he hedged. you huffed, surprised that this was what got the pair shy. “should’ve brought some’a yer own paintings to sell, bon.”

“oh fuck, i forgot my paint set at home,” you said, deflated. “i was really looking forward to painting sometime. in fact today would’ve been perfect for it.” you pouted, annoyed at yourself doubly.

“ye can just borrow some of my stuff,” johnny said easily. “what’s mine is yours, yeah?”

you blinked. “uhm, sure.” you cleared your throat. “thank you, johnny,” you said a little more gratefully.

“think that lasagne might be finished,” kyle said as he stood. “i’ll set the table.”

you nodded and went to help elliot while johnny pulled out the dish and scooped it onto four plates.

“looks delicious, you’ve outdone ye’self here,” johnny cooed. you grinned and felt pride bloom when all three of the men sat at the table groaned at the taste.

“can i make a toast before you all finish in one bite?” you asked playfully. kyle was quick to nod and put down his fork, swapping it for his glass of water. “to lasting friendships and new starts.”

elliot frowned but lifted his glass.

“cheers tae tha’,” johnny said, taking a quick swig before shovelling another spoonful off his plate.

---

with dinner a certified success and your mind made up about your marriage, you found it easier to forgive your husband for what he’d let slip at breakfast.

you headed to bed, peaceful in your decision, and smiled at elliot as you changed into your pyjamas.

“darling…” he started, hesitant for one of the first times in your relationship. you sat next to him on the bed, ignoring the way it squeaked beneath your weight. “i truly am sorry for not telling you— for lying to you about sarah. she’s the most qualified person i know in the field, i just wanted the best for you, for us. i didn’t think about how it would look in the long run.”

of course he didn't, because he never thought about how you felt. you took his hand and rubbed your thumb over his knuckles.

“i forgive you, elliot. mistakes happen,” you said simply.

“yeah?” he asked, his grin and confidence growing. he slipped his hand free to cup your face and pulled you in for an eager kiss. “thank you, darling. i knew you’d understand.”

his eyes darkened as he looked at you, his hand dropped from your cheek to your shoulder and trailed down the long sleeved shirt you slept in.

“you know, you were right at dinner the other night,” he said, and plucked at the bottom of the shirt. “we haven’t had much time for each other recently. maybe we should rectify that.”

of everything you could've guessed elliot would have said to you after everything, that wouldn't have been one of them.

“your ankle,” you reminded him stiltedly. “you’re meant to rest .”

“i’ve been resting,” he said impatiently. “but either way, i’m sure we can work around that.”

“the walls are thin,” you said, hoping it came across as shy instead of reluctant. you were disinclined to fuck your husband now that you’d accepted you wanted better, more.

but you supposed you could give him a quick handjob and call it a night, his complaints be damned. you saw the frustration bleed clearer in his expression with each excuse.

you pushed him back into the pillows and climbed over him to settle in close at his side. guiding his chin up you kissed him in soft little pecks that led across his cheek until you could nuzzle along his jaw and gently nip and lick at his neck. you lifted your palm up and licked a broad stripe across before slipping it beneath his boxers, soaking up his groan as your slick palm wrapped around his base.

you always were a sucker for knowing you were doing a good job, even now when you weren't too invested.

you pulled him free from his boxers and tightened your grip as you moved in deliberate, slow pumps. keeping your eyes low, you watched the first spurt of pre dribble down before it was quickly gathered by your fingers and spread laxly over his head and back down the shaft.

“oh fuck, that’s it, darling. just a bit quicker and tighter for me, go on,” he encouraged.

you did as he asked, twisting your wrist and pressing your thumb to his slit. you felt him shudder and the arm he’d wrapped around you tightened incrementally.

“feel good?” you asked and squeezed tighter on your next pump. he was leaking enough that the glide was slick and easy, the friction causing him to groan.

“fuck, i think im gonna- gonna cum,” he whined and you took that as a hint to focus on his head, swirling your palm in tight motions until his hips were lifting off of the bed to push into your sticky grip. he came with a low gasp, his breath hot and damp across your forehead.

you waited for him to hiss in sensitivity before you let him go and sat up, keeping your palm away from your clean pjs.

“just let me wash up then we can go to sleep,” you said.

elliot sleepily nodded, his eyes already half closed. you sighed.

---

with a jolt, you suddenly woke with elliot hovering over you; he was already dressed, though the lack of light itching to burst past the curtains let you know it wasn’t yet morning. you were disoriented and confused as he whispered rushed mutterings.

“elliot?”

“shh,” he held his finger to his lips, eyes flickering to the bedroom door. “you need to pack, we have to go.”

“what? no, what time is it?” you sat up and brushed his hands away from you. he stopped tugging at your arm and instead pulled away the duvet.

“there was an emergency, we have to go. now.” elliot repeated. “please darling, quickly.”

“an emergency?” your ears pricked even as you read the time, 5am, on your phone. “what emergency?”

“i’ll explain on the way,” he said vaguely, finally pulling you out of the bed and hissing when he pressed too much weight on his ankle.

“elliot, slow down. just tell me what’s happened, im not leaving here without saying goodbye to—“

“shut up. for once just do as i say,” elliot rounded on you suddenly and gripped your neck tightly. you reflexively pulled at his wrist to ease up the pressure and nodded as best you could with his broad palm pressed snugly against your throat, his thumb and fingers hooked at the edges of your jaw. “we’re leaving. we have to go, and i mean now.”

he let you go and you stayed quiet, muffling your coughs into your elbow. he was hasty in his own packing, rushing you along all the while and stumbled with his bag on the stairs, irritating his injury enough to let out a sharp gasp.

you ducked under his arm and helped him hop to the car, sending pensive looks behind you the whole time, guilt churning in your gut.

“are you sure you can drive, elliot?” you asked finally, hesitating to put on your seatbelt once you were sat in the passenger seat.

he shushed you rudely and gritted his teeth as he pressed on the clutch.

the drive back down the winding lanes towards the main road was rough, the car stuttering every time elliot’s ankle succumbed to and crumbled under the pressure he needed for the clutch, his leg flinching up and the seatbelt catching you before you jerked too far forward.

“where’s my phone? i need to call work, i need— where is it?” he hissed, patting his pockets and checking the holders in the car, hardly watching the road.

“you don’t have it?” you asked, confused.

“it was charging on your side of the bed,” he reminded you impatiently.

“then how did you know about the emergen—“ you realised with a sudden sick roll of your stomach, that he’d lied. again.

he was pissy you had a few days left of the holiday, that he wasn’t enjoying himself but you were. you had two days left but he he didn’t want to be around them anymore so he faked an emergency, because surely he’d have had his phone if that were true. fuck, no wonder he was being vague about it all, he wanted time to make up something detrimental at work or perhaps even to do with a friend that would be fine with lying to you. he certainly had his pick of them.

he span the car around angrily and you held on to the door handle as the tyres squealed. “you’ll need to go in and get it as quickly as possible.”

“sure,” you said blandly. you were sick of trusting him and getting fucked over for it every time. would you ever learn?

yes. the divorce would make this the last time you let him walk all over you.

you didn’t bother trying to quieten your steps along the gravel back up to the house. part of you hoped johnny or kyle heard your steps and came down to stop you leaving while the other half worried what elliot would do if you dawdled.

you mumbled to yourself, pissed off and chuntering, as you walked into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty and to be able to nip upstairs and grab elliot’s mobile and be gone again, an apologetic text already drafted in your mind for johnny and kyle.

however the pair of them were already in the kitchen, a third man stood with them. johnny jumped from his chair and wrapped you in his arms immediately, causing you to squeak when he squeezed tight.

“we were worried you’d left,” gaz said from where he leant against the kitchen counter, the mysterious man stood silent opposite him. “fretting we’d done something wrong.”

johnny let you go finally so you could reply, his big blue eyes staring down at you intensely.

“oh, uhm, i’m sorry,” you started, stuttering through an explanation. an excuse. “we uhm, we did go but it’s because i woke with bad stomach pains.” you felt yourself retreat into your shoulders, hunched and embarrassed with such focused attention on you. “elliot was worried, said we should go to the hospital maybe, uhm, so we left without saying goodbye. in a hurry. sorry.”

you noticed the third man staring at your neck and reflexively lifted a hand to cover the area, hoping to feel whatever he was staring at, thinking your shirt might've had the tag stuck out at the front given how dazedly you'd dressed earlier. instead you sucked in a thin breath when your hand pressed against sensitive bruising.

you broke eye contact immediately and dropped your hand to your collar bone, felt your cheeks heat in a putrid mix of anger and humiliation.

“we found his phone in yer room still,” johnny said and pulled elliot’s mobile from his back pocket. “glad ye came back fer it, but if yer ill was it really so important?”

you floundered for a moment, eyes glued to his hand, before gaz spoke up.

“might’ve just been the booze from last night, yeah? sometimes it doesn’t settle well, simon forgets what the average person can stomach,” kyle said. he winked. “it’d be especially rough for lightweights.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t deny it.

“it still hurting?” johnny asked, his free hand drifting close so his fingertips could trace your stomach lightly in the opening of your jacket.

you clamped your own hand over your soft tummy and nodded, feigning a stomach ache.

“let me make ye some chucky eggs and a chamomile tea to ease it off,” johnny offered and dropped elliot’s phone on the table roughly. “a light hangover cure coming right up, don’t figure you’d want a hearty, greasy brekkie like what i do fer me an’ gaz when we’re hangin'.”

gaz pushed off the side and gently corralled you into a seat, pushing it in for you afterwards and letting his hands linger on you shoulders. you couldn’t help but nod and go along with their sweet touches, even as you thought of elliot sat waiting in his car. they were being nicer than anyone had been in a long time when you’d been ‘ill’.

it felt like they were being careful with you. it almost made you feel even guiltier for lying to them.

the third man coughed and looked at kyle with raised eyebrows, his heavy facial hair hiding any mirth that might have hidden around his mouth.

“ah, where are my manners? love, this is price, our pest control guy,” kyle said as he hovered by your chair. “sometimes when we’re too busy to handle it, we get price in to shoot the foxes that are eating the hens. we’d called him last week since we’ve been having a few issues, completely forgot after you arrived.”

you nodded along, though you couldn’t remember seeing or hearing any foxes over the last few days, even on the late evenings.

“he’s a good man, won’t be a bother,” johnny added. “in fact it was good that he arrived when he did or we’d have had no clue ye were gone.”

“it’s nice to meet you,” you said, and took his meaty hand when he offered it. as you looked into his pale eyes you saw something mean to him. hidden behind his soft, placid smile and easy nod there was a sharp glint in his eyes he couldn’t hide.

you knew without asking that he enjoyed his job, enjoyed hunting, and you were suddenly glad you wouldn’t have to witness it going by johnny’s promise that he'd be out of the way.

johnny handed you a earthy smelling cup and you slowly sipped and watched him hover by the toaster as the eggs boiled in their pan, waiting to butter then slice the toast into dippable pieces.

he’d just scooped the eggs into their little cups and played them beside the toast when your husband limped in, stumbling at the unexpected sight of gaz and johnny. he sent you a baleful look as he took in the scene before him and you ducked your head back towards your boiled eggs.

“we were wondering when you might turn up, mate,” kyle said, finally taking his seat next to yours. “was just introducing the missus to price.”

“poor girl said she was ill?” price said and elliot clung on to the excuse.

“ah yeah, she’s always been a drama queen this one. wanted to head home as soon as she started feeling a little under the weather,” he said. he looked down to your plate. “feeling better now, though, i see.”

price’s gaze turned frigid as he stared at your husband. he looked to johnny for a moment, who nodded once, before turning back to your husband.

“you ever gone hunting before?” he asked. “do a bit for the lads here when they’re tied up in more important things, could take you out when i go looking for foxes today.”

elliot jumped at the chance, even with his ankle.

watching price, you felt rude for the voice in the back of your head that was telling you this man was not to be trusted. he was nice from what you could tell, charming even, if not commanding. you assumed he perhaps had a similar background to johnny and kyle with how he held himself, that his gruff exterior was likely earned from years in the service, but despite that something in you bristled all the same in a way it hadn’t so far. looking at elliot however, you realised he felt far differently; price’s casual dominance had managed to bring your husband to heel.

“great, we’ll keep bonnie company for the morning and if she starts to feel faint again, we’ll look after her,” johnny said and clapped elliot on the shoulder.

---

the couple hardly gave you time to let your breakfast settle before they whisked you off onto a trail behind their house again and after a short walk you got to see the view kyle had shown you on his phone originally in france.

“said you wanted to try painting it, so here we are,” kyle said.

“i don’t have my stuff with me.” you frowned, remembering speaking about it before.

“ahh, we came prepared.” johnny took off his bag and rooted through it, pulling out three small drawing pads and a water colour set. “no wine this time,” johnny teased. “an’ we’ll have tae share the paints.”

“then what’re we waiting for?” you asked excitedly.

barely twenty minutes in you quickly found that this was the one thing the pair of them couldn’t do.

gaz struggled the most, claiming after barely ten minutes that he was going down an abstract route with his, and despite his teasing, it didn’t take johnny much longer after that to admit that his skill lay in charcoal.

you had spent the better part of the morning on your painting, but at the last minute painted over the same branch until the colour was too dark, overworked and leaking a little into the leaves.

“fuck,” you huffed and dabbed it with your sleeve. elliot would scowl at the mess but you were distracted, worried about what johnny and kyle thought of your lie earlier that morning and your rude almost-exit. “i’m sorry about this morning,” you said finally.

“there’s nothing to apologise for,” kyle said immediately. “you’re still here, right?”

“still, i just—“

“hen, please. you’re fine, you’re forgiven if that’s what ye need t’hear.” johnny smiled. “maybe we should head back, ahm craving a hot choccy like nobodies business sat out here in the cold.”

"we can get lunch started," gaz suggested before turning to you. "What are you craving, love?"

---

you had reached the garden when you heard a shot echo from the woods.

“must’ve found the den,” kyle said in response to your tense shoulders, but your husband's scream following a moment later had your head whipping across the lawn.

with wide eyes you watched the tree line, stubbornly still even as kyle and johnny tried to encourage you further down towards the farmhouse. you felt your hands twitch as your husband burst from the overgrown bushes, pushing out of a trail you’d have never known was there otherwise.

at his desperate, fearful face you turned to kyle for support automatically, johnny nowhere to be seen, but found his eyes were dark and hooded where he watched elliot struggle to hobble over to you. his stance was lazy; you’d almost think he was uninterested if you hadn’t noticed the way he’d not blinked since your husband’s running figure had breached the bushes, but you could tell he was entirely focused on elliot.

as he got closer you noticed the blood streaking down his face from a large cut across his forehead and his broken nose; evident from it's quick bruising.

he looked like he’d been hit with the solid flat side of something head on. at the sight of tears in his eyes you suddenly jumped into action and met him halfway, helping hold him up as he tried to move quickly away from the forest behind.

“he’s trying to kill me, he’s going to— he attacked me, he wants to kill me, we need to leave,” he babbled, nasally. “we have to go, please.”

“let’s take a second to breathe, mate, yeah? come on, sit down inside and tell us what’s happened,” kyle said reasonably.

“no! i’m not fucking staying here, you’re all crazy,” elliot said and tried to pull you along passed the kitchen door. “he’s a fucking psycho, he attacked me with the fucking— the thing, the gun!”

“i’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding,” kyle insisted, but you recognised a hint of impatience to his tone and it had you continuing to walk with elliot to your car. “if you slow down, we can figure this out.”

“kyle… even if this was an accident, i think someone should look at the cut,” you said. the blood had dripped far enough to begin to soak into elliot’s collar and stain the material.

“no, no, no,” elliot suddenly mumbled and you turned forward to look at the car. your eyes locked onto the flat wheel and you felt your stomach drop.

“elliot…” you whispered.

“get in the fucking car,” he ordered and pushed away from you to round to the passenger side.

dread spread like ice to your fingertips and toes and you flinched out of kyle’s hold when he reached for your arm from behind. you span around to face him and stumbled back a step towards the car, only breaking eye contact with kyle when you saw movement from the garage.

johnny. he was dusting off his hands as he walked and you felt your panic rise and thrash. you’d not lent a thought as to where he’d gone when elliot had appeared bloody and frantic, but in the back of your mind you supposed you’d thought he’d continued on to the house; whether for a first aid kit or to start those hot chocolates you didn’t know.

looking at him then, trousers freshly scuffed on one knee with mud where you supposed he must’ve knelt to slash your tyre, your head suddenly felt heavy and your breath came short.

you were just confused. they were so kind to you, understanding, and now elliot was hurt and something in your gut told you they were involved, too casual in the face of such a graphic injury and accusation.

kyle was eerily quiet as you slowly started to piece it together. you swallowed nervously.

“what— what’s going on, kyle?”

“it’s nothing you need to worry about, love,” he said softly. “come on, come inside with me and johnny’ll sort out elliot.”

it felt weird hearing him say your husband’s name for the first time, especially in this situation. it raised your hackles when you’d have thought it would ease your worry.

“aye, just a spot of bad luck, nothing we can’t fix,” johnny said as he edged closer.

“get in the fucking car, what are you waiting for?” elliot yelled.

“don’t do it, love,” kyle warned.

you shook your head and scrambled for the front seat, locking the door behind you. it had been years since you last drove; moving to london meant it wasn’t necessary and on the odd trips you took with elliot he’d always insisted on driving. pushing on the pedals now felt like learning anew, especially with the flat.

kyle and johnny watched you reverse with frowns on their faces, arms crossed and stood tall.

“speed up, fucking hell, get on the main road already before they catch up,” elliot hissed, eyes wild.

the gears grinded as you tried to speed up down the short road that led to their house, the steering wheel fighting against you on the uneven road and flat tyre. you glanced in the rear view mirror at elliot’s words, worried they were already on your tail but they were still stood still.

you wondered briefly if they really were just trying to help when you suddenly spun out on the gravel leading up to the barn.

your head smacked into the wheel as the car slammed to a stop against the fence and you groaned as you sat up, panting and clinging uncomfortably tight to the steering wheel as you tried to blink the stars from your eyes and gather your bearings. everything was going too fast, the afternoon turned upside down so quick.

elliot clambered out of the car, limping towards the barn without giving a second look back towards you. with weak hands you pushed open the door and followed him, shaken but uninjured.

you followed him into the barn and he slammed the door behind you, slotting the latch down as though that would do much good to keep anyone out for long.

“that man, price, he tried to shoot me,” elliot whispered, fresh tears mixing with the blood on his cheek. “when i fought him he punched me and then hit me with the gun. i had to run for my life, i think ive bloody broken this ankle, if it wasn’t already.”

“what do we do?” you asked, voice wobbly and quiet. “where can we go? they’re— they’ll be outside already.”

“we need to hide,” he said. you clenched your eyes shut. that didn’t sound like much of a plan.

“what if kyle and johnny aren’t in on it?” you asked hopefully. if they weren’t that gave you more options to escape price at least.

elliot went to speak but the sound of another door opening had you freezing in place like deer. you’d not thought about other entrances, not thought about how you’d come in a completely different door when you’d visited marmite.

hide, elliot mouthed before diving behind a pile of boxes, covering himself with the loose corner of tarpaulin.

you moved further back into the barn and watched as johnny came in to view. he whistled as he let his eyes wander around the large barn, winking across to marmite.

“where could he be, marm? eh?” he asked rhetorically, stopping beside elliot’s hiding spot. you noticed belatedly that the awkward way your husband held his ankle to ease the pain meant it stuck out glaringly, his expensive trainers clear as day.

you wanted to call out, give him a chance to make a break for it, but your voice failed you and you watched as johnny stomped his heavy boot onto elliot’s ankle.

you sobbed at the scream he let out as it echoed in the barn. shivering at the pain in his voice as you muffled your own cried behind your palm.

johnny yanked him out of his hiding spot and dragged him back outside through the open door, laughing at elliot’s gasps and whines of pain.

you spotted a shovel opposite you and grabbed it following close behind, careful not to make any noise. you raised the shovel high with gritted teeth, ready to swing, when kyle’s arms wrapped around you, tight and restricting.

he stole the makeshift weapon from your hands too easily and threw it out of reach as johnny watched with wide, impressed eyes focused on you, elliot whimpering at his feet.

one second you were struggling in kyle’s grip and the next you were winded, wrestled to the ground at johnny’s feet with kyle pressed to your back.

“ready t’watch, hen?” johnny asked gleefully, kicking elliot out of his feral position before kneeling over him. he glanced at you to make sure you were watching and kyle’s broad palm came up to cup your chin, his fingers digging into your cheeks to make sure you were facing towards them.

“doin’ this f’r you,” johnny said earnestly before bringing his fist down in a heavy punch, hitting elliot’s cheek hard enough it recoiled into the solid ground below him.

you watched with bleary eyes as johnny beat your husband until his face was sunken, didn’t blink as he grabbed a nearby rock to continue until elliot’s arms stopped prying at johnny’s chest and face and his breaths eventually stilled.

“please stop, please, you’re hurting him, please stop.” you hadn’t realised you’d been mumbling, begging and pleading, while johnny’s hands dripped red.

“you’re ok, pretty,” kyle cooed against your temple, his lips brushing softly against your skin like light kisses.

he nuzzled your cheek where his thumb dug into the squishy flesh as you heard footsteps.

“need help cleaning up?” price asked.

“only this one as planned, sir,” johnny said as he pushed himself back onto his feet, groaning at the pressure on his knee.

“could’ve been a bit cleaner about it,” kyle complained.

“you saw how he was treating her?” price confirmed. “right then. and you’ve both spent time with him alone, know he’s fucking insufferable.”

gaz huffed a short breath through his nose. “being polite with that one, cap.”

“i think i did well lasting the full mornin’ with him,” price said haughtily, grabbing your husband by the collar and hefting him up halfway off the ground while johnny grabbed one of his arms to help. “let him run this far, did ya?”

“was fun watching him tire himself out,” kyle said and you clenched your hand trapped beneath your body.

“doesnae matter now, the jobs done,” johnny said. “we can fix this.” he waved to you and kyle and you shivered.

kyle eased up on your back and let go of your face as you watched them drag elliot’s body towards the back garden and the woods, presumably where the shallow grave they'd prepared for him was.

“right, love,” he started, and you took advantage of his slip in concentration and the looser hold to swing your elbow up and back into his face. he reared back and you rolled him off of your hips the rest of the way, scrambling up onto your feet and sprinting away as soon as you were free.

“fucking hell,” he swore loudly.

you didn’t dare look back, already feeling like your steps were too slow already as you aimed for their car instead of your own.

you imagined finding their keys magically in the ignition or in the drivers seat visor and being able to drive off without a bump, find help and—

you were suddenly hit from the side, johnny's full weight heaved into yours as he shoulder barged you against their car door so roughly your head bounced off of the truck’s window with a crack.

your knees crumbled on impact, all strength leaving your body and replaced with pain as you slumped to the floor.

your vision swam as he laughed excitedly and crouched before you. “fucking’ wily one, you, hen,” he crowed and reached out to pat your face. “c’mon, up ye get.”

he hefted you up, gripping you under your arms even as you tried to wiggle away, pain flashing across your eyes when you moved your head too quick.

“christ almighty, yer stunning,” he gushed. he opened the door with one hand and slipped in backwards, leaving his feet planted on the edge of the door as he dragged you to lean over the seat and his lap until your toes were just scraping the ground. “such a beautiful wife.”

you whined at the uncomfortable position, the pressure the edge of the seat put on your tummy, but you couldn’t move due to how harsh his grip on your arms was as he rested your head in his lap. “lemme go,” you groaned.

he scratched lightly at the back of your neck and grinned at the goosebumps that flared up.

he’d only just gotten you settled fully into position when you felt a second pair of hands at your arse. you jolted in his grip, but the firm body behind you stopped you from moving too far. pressed completely between them like a pinned butterfly.

kyle didn’t hesitate once he saw you were unable to move far, didn’t bother to ease you into it, snaking one hand to your front to release the button on your jeans and then pulling both your jeans and pants over your arse to tangle at your knees. he palmed at the bare skin revealed, nudging a knee between your thick thighs when you tried to kick back at him.

“fuck you,” you seethed. “get the fuck off of me.”

“you don’t have to play pretend anymore, love, elliot’s not here to get mad,” kyle said. he squeezed your hips and groaned. “fucking hell, bet you’re wet already, drooling in johnny’s lap like that.”

you gritted your teeth and tried to gain some firmer footing but the shift of your legs only encouraged the pair and the breeze against your pussy had you tensing.

“oh baby, you’re really desperate for it, yeah?” kyle cooed meanly. he lifted his hand to johnny, sticking two fingers out. “get these wet for me, eh, soap?”

you couldn’t look up from how johnny held you close, but you felt him lean forward, heard the eager, wet noises as he sucked at kyle’s fingers with abandon.

kyle pulled them free with a slick pop and trailed them between your legs, slipping one inside your pussy even as you winced at the too-dry stretch, johnny's spit not lending enough give to kyle’s long finger.

“gonna thank us for getting rid a’him?” johnny asked, squeezing your neck.

you felt your lips wobble and hid further into his lap. feeling humiliated as they laughed. endeared by your cowed behaviour.

gaz was quick to get with the program, knowing he wouldn't get much further and slipped his finger free with a gentle shush in your ear. he tilted your hips up and wedged his arm between you and the car seat, planted his spit-slick fingers over your clit instead and rubbed in sharp circles until you were squirming.

“there ya go,” johnny said. “that’ll do ‘er.”

“shh, be a good girl for us,” kyle grunted. “c’mon, don’t fight it, love, make it easy on yourself.”

you felt your hips twitch against his hand as he focused meanly on your clit until your pussy was clenching and creaming around nothing.

you let out a ragged gasp, your voice breaking as kyle continued to pinch and play with your throbbing clit for a moment longer until you felt a whine build in the back of your throat. you clenched your teeth to hold it back and pushed your face into johnny's solid thigh.

when kyle saw your resistance he ran his fingers lower until they met the hot slick leaking from your cunt and grinned with accomplishment up at his husband.

“don’t worry love, it’ll feel good. i’ll make sure of it,” kyle promised against the sensitive skin of your neck.

he slipped his finger in again, easier this time, and followed it too quickly after with a second. you groaned at the stretch, your hot panting breaths damp against johnny’s tented trousers. the instinct to bite his cock through his jeans and not let go like an untrained dog flashed through your mind as the start of an escape plan, but johnny gently stroked the apple of your cheek and it distracted you enough to lose the thought and chicken out last minute.

“no need t’worry, bonnie. ahm no’ gonna make ye take my cock at the same time, not today,” he said soothingly. “ah know how overwhelming two at a time can be.”

you felt sick as you identified the feeling blooming in your chest as relief and gratefulness. felt worse when you thought it could just be pure pleasure as kyle’s fingers learned the shape of you.

“so bloody tight, don’t know how i’ll fit, johnny,” kyle complained good-naturedly, a sly smile plastered across his face.

“she’s made fer it, gaz,” johnny insisted, mumbled a gruff, our good girl as he looked down at you. “test her out already.”

“no,” you whined, knowing he’d barely gotten his third finger in.

kyle took johnny’s encouragement as blanket permission and pulled his fingers free, chuckling at the rhythmic clenching of your pussy.

“christ if you could see this, john,” he said with awe. “look at that pretty pussy, just begging for me. eager to please, aren’t you?”

you tensed at the sound of a zipper, thrashed when you felt the head of his cock push between your glistening lips, slicking it up not nearly enough before he prodded a little more insistently.

your hands gripped at johnny’s leg and the car seat as he pushed the head in, your brows furrowed as he panted behind you.

“there ye go, hen, give it all t’him,” johnny cooed, eyes molten as he watched kyle fuck into you for the first time.

“need to try your arse next time if this is how tight your pussy is,” kyle moaned. he pushed in a little further and you whined, sucking in a sharp breath when he pulled back out again. johnny chuckled, lifting one hand to wrap around kyle’s neck, his thumb petted softly at his adam’s apple as kyle bit his lip and leant into the pressure.

he thrusted in and out slowly, going deeper with each push back in and testing your resolve as you tried to bite back your sounds.

“let us hear ye,” johnny pouted, pulling his hand back to push two fingers into your mouth. he held it hinged open on kyle’s next thrust and you let out a deep gargled noise.

kyle huffed, his cock leaking pre inside you.

“how’s she feel, garrick?”

“like sin,” he sighed. “tightened up as soon as you got your fingers in her mouth.”

“dirty little slut,” johnny said, delighted. “maybe not so much our good girl after all.”

your orgasm crept up on you, focused as you were on staying quiet and still, when kyle’s hand drifted from where he’d been palming your arse it barely took a moment of attention to your clit to have you reeling.

“there we go, fuck. look at that,” kyle groaned as you tightened up, a flood of slick leaking out with every pull of his cock and gathering at his pubes on the thrust back in. “give it to me.”

you gasped and moaned around johnnys fingers, drooling down his palm and into his lap. you saw through hazy eyes how his cock jumped in its confines, eager for attention and the pleasure gaz had described.

kyle moaned, his thrusts getting rougher, uneven. “keep cumming, love, take it.”

“fucking temptation incarnate,” johnny whispered as you pushed back into kyle’s hand and cock trying to prolong your own pleasure.

kyle folded over you and thrust in his cock hard and shallow, hips bruising your butt cheeks as he groaned. he stilled and you felt the flood of his cum settle deep and heavy, a sudden spark of anxiety kicking through your afterglow.

you didn’t acknowledge the part that gleefully thought of the possibility of a baby, finally.

you shivered, slumped in johnny's lap as he held you up when gaz slipped out, whistling in appreciation at the sight of the pair of you. you felt gaz lightly tap his cockhead against your butt cheek with a wet plap before he tucked himself away again.

“don’t let it drip,” johnny reminded gaz before too much of his cum could dribble out of your puffy hole. kyle was gentle as he tugged up your pants, even when he patted the gusset crudely before bending low for your jeans. he pulled you back up against his chest as johnny shuffled forwards and out of the truck cab, plastering himself to your front once he was on the ground.

you ducked your head to avoid his kiss and he chuckled. “still so shy after tha’?”

they shuffled you back to the farmhouse, pressed so close to your sides that it made it impossible for you to lose your footing, both of them keeping you upright even as your legs felt like jelly.

they got you laid down in their bed, the room closer to yours and elliot’s than you’d realised.

it felt like a herculean task keeping your eyes open despite the mid-afternoon sun shining through the window. if you could bring yourself to string more than two thoughts together you’d think it was the shock or the adrenaline crash. but for the moment you could only think about how pretty gaz looked stood at the corner of the bed smiling or how warm johnny felt kneeling between your legs.

at the feeling of your jeans being removed again, you frowned.

“what’re y’doin’?” you slurred, a second away from passing out.

“shh, bonnie,” johnny whispered. “y’r fine.”

you felt his fingers tease at the opening of your cunt, playing with the cum trickling out, tacky and sticky where some had dribbled down your thighs.

he groaned and stuck his fingers in his mouth as kyle laughed.

you drifted in and out, barely registering the feeling of his cock rubbing through the mess and nudging at your clit, his own leaking pre only adding to the smooth glide.

you passed out finally to the feeling of his teeth at your neck, his groans in your ear and kyle’s eyes watching over you both fondly.

---

you woke up slowly, your head thumping and it took you a moment to recall where you were and what had happened. you sat up slowly and saw you were alone in their room.

you cringed at the dried cum between your legs and the way your skin stuck to itself and the sheets. if it wasn’t for the physical proof crusting on your skin and the smell of their aftershaves on the duvet, you think you might’ve been able to convince yourself none of it had happened.

your threw back the duvet when you were sure they weren’t about to jump out at you and grabbed your trousers from the floor.

you hesitantly pushed open the door to the left of the room and found an en suite bathroom.

with a sigh of relief you closed and locked it behind you and started cleaning yourself up in the sink with hurried movements. a shower would've been preferable but you weren’t willing to risk the noise or the time, so scrubbing away the cum, sweat and tears with your hands and some soap would have to do.

it took all of your energy to keep yourself calm as you felt sticky globs of cum drip from inside you and replace what you’d just cleaned on the inside of your thighs.

you got dressed hastily and peeked out of the window to try and spot johnny or kyle prowling outside. when you saw no sign of either, you held your breath and cracked open the bedroom door. when they didn’t appear from nowhere waiting to catch you trying to leave, you crept down the creaky stairs, sucking in a tight breath as if it could make you lighter and the stairs any quieter.

you cringed as you made it down and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw the kitchen empty.

your eyes zeroed in on the knife block and you scampered over to it and grabbed the biggest one, sufficiently sharp.

you snuck out the back way to avoid the sound of your trainers on the gravel out front; given your last escape attempt you figured they’d have their car locked and keys kept safe so there was no point attempting the cars again at the front and you weren’t sure you’d be able to outrun them all the way to the main road out in the open. whereas the forest out back would provide enough cover for you to make your way to… well, you didn’t really know where, part of you thought you could maybe find their elusive neighbour while another thought you’d more likely get lost in there trying.

better the devil you know, the traitorous voice whispered.

you shook your head and looked around frantically, your head on a constant swivel as you jogged across the garden, eyes peeled for a hint of any of the three of them. you slowed as you neared the veg plot to the right and the open grass and shed to the left.

you headed left, despite the lack of cover it proved, it was closer to the woods trail you knew and although there was nowhere for you to hide it meant there was also nowhere for them to be lying in wait, unlike all the tall climbing veg you’d originally been impressed by on your first day.

“think we should probably ring him later to see—“

you span around at the sound of their voices drifting on the wind, and saw them making their way from the front of the house. panicking, you jumped towards the nearest hiding spot - the little shed.

it was unlocked, but you were too worked up to wonder were the thick lock you’d seen days prior had gone. despite the sun shining through the little windows, it was dark in the little shed. you cursed not having your phone on you for the light but figured you’d have not wanted to garner the attention either way.

you could tell it was clean from the smell, whatever was stored in there was well looked after. shelves were pushed against the back and right side of the shed, full of boxed items.

johnny’s sister’s items, you remembered.

you stepped forward quietly, dropping the knife onto a lower shelf when a stack of photo albums caught your eye. you picked one up at random and flicked it open to find a picture of soap and gaz, younger and stood in their fatigues. You flicked further in and saw another of them in their civvies, then a third of them in their wedding suits.

why wouldn’t they keep this in their house?

the next book answered your question as you looked at kyle and johnny wrapped around a woman in a wedding dress. you paused, your breath hitching before you looked at the next few photos quicker, the unknown woman was dressed casual for a few pages, then replaced by a third unknown man in a suit.

there were less photos of him dressed casually before he was replaced by another woman in the same dress as before; then another, a man in a suit. they kept changing, never lasting more than ten pages in the albums as kyle and johnny got older through the photos.

their third never reappeared once they’d disappeared.

you breathed in shakily, understanding that you weren’t their first, likely wouldn’t be their last if they caught you trying to escape again. christ, how many were like you that would be killed before they were forced to put on the wedding dress or suit.

you put the book back with shaking hands and grabbed your knife again. you weren’t going to sit there and wait for them to come looking for you, but you’d foolishly gotten distracted and hadn't heard where they’d gone when you were looking at the photos. you pressed close to the door and held you breath while listening out for them on the other side.

when it had been quiet for long enough for your legs to feel tired, held rigidly still in the cold shed, you pushed opened the door slowly and stepped out. you stopped mid step when you saw kyle and johnny sat patiently at their garden table just opposite, staring at you with wide smiles.

“mornin’,” johnny called across and you reflexively brought up the knife in front of you.

“what’s the knife for?” kyle asked, amused, his lips pulling up at one side as he glanced at it lazily. “got the jitters, love? it’s normal, i still get butterflies and we’ve done this how many times now, johnny?”

“countless. but ah’ve got a good feeling about this one.” johnny’s grin turned salacious as he looked you up and down.

“me too.” kyle let his smile spread.

you stared for a moment, debating running. “what are you going to do to me?”

kyle’s grin stretched and he dipped his head to take a drink of his tea to hide it, laughing a little at your shaking hands.

“it’s our wedding day hen, you forget already?” johnny cooed.

you frowned, gripped the knife tighter.

“price was good enough to agree to officiate today instead of the end of the week, last minute changes cannae be helped though,” he added with an easy shrug. “hopefully simon’ll be able t’make it too.”

“the cake…” you mumbled, feeling betrayed at how many people they had in on it. how long they’d planned this and played pretend with you.

“she caught on quick. smart one this time, think we’ve made a good choice.” gaz stood as he spoke to johnny causing you to stiffen in unease. you lifted the knife up high in front of you again where it’d dropped to your side.

“now now, come on. you think you know what you’re doing with that, love? think you could kill me if you had to? johnny too?”

you stared at johnny behind kyle’s shoulder; the picture of relaxed, but you could see how sharp his eyes were as he watched you threaten his husband.

“sas, remember? even if you did manage to knick me, and that’s a big if, love, johnny would have you laid flat before you had a chance to blink. he’s broad but he’s bloody quick even with the knee.” he pointed to your bruised temple as he took another step. “but you’ve already experienced that. let’s just think about what you want to do here, yeah?”

frustration welled inside you and you blinked as tears ran down your cheeks. “i want to go home,” you whispered.

gaz smiled softly, the mean glint in his eyes gone when he nodded. “we can do that.”

“you just have to put down the knife first, hen.”

you shook your head, working yourself up as you felt your fight or flight turn to freeze as you stared them down another minute longer, desperate to find a way out.

gaz took another step and you swiped desperately to stop him from getting too close, but flinching back yourself when johnny barked out a sharp, “hey!”

gaz ducked out your reach but lifted his arm under yours to control its trajectory, elbowing you in the nose with his other arm. you felt a crunch and stumbled back, the knife falling from your grip and into kyle’s.

“guhh!” your hands flew up to your aching nose as you gasped, the pain sharp and ferocious, pinpointed to your sinuses as you bent forward to instinctively protect your face.

“ah shit.” you heard kyle sigh.

“bit bloody rough, garrick,” johnny chastised as he finally came closer, kneeling before you, keeping one hand tight on your calf to keep you close as the other gently, but insistently wheedled your hands away from your messy face.

“used to manhandling you aren’t i, soap?” kyle groused, but sending you worried looks all the same. he stepped away to drop the knife on the table, grabbing the small tea towel they’d had folded next to their plates and handing it to soap when he got close again.

you hissed as johnny cleaned you up as best he could with the scratchy cloth, sucking in a ragged breath through your mouth and gagging at the rancid taste of your own blood.

they herded you back to the farmhouse and sat you in kyle’s lap in the kitchen.

you took a sick satisfaction when he grunted at your weight on his legs, but the firm squeezing of your hips had you wiggling away. his grip was firm however and he kept you from hovering above him as johnny wiped at your nose with a wet rag.

“this is gon’hurt, cannae lie t’ya,” he said as he cupped either side of your face, his thumbs pressed along your nose. “wee bastard broke it, but i’ll make it good as new.”

kyle grumbled and johnny huffed, corrected himself. “wee bonnie bastard.”

you whimpered and jerked in kyle’s hold when johnny pushed it back into place, wiping it down once more.

“ye play nice and forgive each other, now, yeah?” he ordered. “close contact always helps w'that i've found.”

gaz nuzzled in close at that, hummed against your cold skin. “i’m sorry, baby. been a while since we played with someone so delicate.”

you stayed silent and johnny tilted your head to get a better look at your nose with the bleeding slowed down.

“looks good as new, bonnie,” he confirmed, ducking down to kiss you.

you winced when his nose knocked yours and felt his grin against your pursed lips.

suddenly, deliriously, you thought of the wedding photos they’d want to take. they’d be ruined, you thought with glee.

you told them so and watched as gaz pouted over your shoulder. johnny hummed.

“we have plenty of time to make memories together,” he settled on saying finally.

“you’re better than they were,” gaz agreed. “you’ll be better.” last longer, went unsaid.

you shook your head but they ignored it as they pulled you to stand up between them.

“now, you better start getting ready, price will be here soon and so should simon. we want to get this done quickly so we can get to the good part,” gaz said.

“consummating the marriage,” johnny winked.

you let them guide you back to your room where you saw the wedding dress laid on the bed, matching shoes on the floor set neatly.

sat on the bed next to the dress you ran your hand over the silky material, the intricate sewing and beading.

your head pounded, the injury from what you now knew was the day before and now the nose had your ears ringing. you grabbed the glass of water from the side table and downed it, uncaring if it was from two nights ago, suddenly parched as you thought of the amount of tears you’d shed.

when you could finally bring yourself to put on the dress you marvelled at the fit, the way the material looked draped over your curves.

like the sisterhood of the travelling pants but for two psychos’ fucking wedding, you thought and snorted.

you were truly connected to all their victims before you now.

you slipped on the shoes and let yourself hide your face in your hands as your hope finally crumbled. this was happening and you weren’t sure how to feel about it.

christ, whether it was the bump to the head or maybe elliot’s treatment for the last few years had done a worse number on you than you’d realised, but you couldn’t help but wonder if this would still be better than how you’d be living in london.

you wiped your face and headed for downstairs. it was like a sick repeat of the night you’d all gone out as they cooed and fawned over you when you got to the bottom. and once more you liked it.

liked it the same way you’d liked their attention every time they focused on you, complimented you. a slut just like elliot had spat. like johnny had moaned.

you swallowed thickly and hid your shaking hands behind your back.

they led you outside and you took the time to try and think of elliot’s face as he was beaten to death not twenty-four hours before; hoping to get a wake up call from these tumultuous, traitorous feelings. but you could only think of the lipstick mark on his neck and the photos of his cock on his phone that you knew he’d never sent to you, the texts he’d hide, the video you’d finally found of him fucking another woman.

you thought about how kind and gentle kyle and johnny had been over the last few days and bit your cheek harshly. switched to thinking of johnny using you while you slept, kyle taking you half inside their car, but it didn’t horrify you like you’d expected it to.

the gut clenching panic you’d expected to feel was absent as you remembered the feeling of their hands on you and instead you were ashamed to feel yourself grow wet.

were you so fucked up, so lonely and starved that you were going to willingly ‘marry’ these men and let them treat you like that?

if you took a moment to think about it, were they even a step up from elliot?

you looked up and ahead and saw price get out of his car, a genuine smile puffing up his cheeks as kyle waved. you assumed the ceremony would be starting soon enough.

kyle leant in to kiss your temple and johnny removed his hand from your shoulders and instead took yours in his own with an excited squeeze.

well, you knew the answer to the first question at least.

want to email johnny? click here

#dog meat fic #final part!! hope you’ve all enjoyed over the end of the spooky season #this was a lot of fun #and poor reader - very much out of the frying pan into the fire with getting gazsoap after elliot #this really well and truly isn’t edited as well as it should be but it’s 2am right now so who cares!!#johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader x kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader x gaz #soap x gaz #soapgaz #soapgaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #cod smut #soap x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #fat reader

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p0orbaby · 2 months ago

Note

Hiya, I’m not sure if you write for Niamh but I had a blurb idea,, and if you obviously don’t write for her it’s totally a-okay :)

Reader falls asleep on Niamh during a team movie night and Niamh feels like she can’t move or wake R up because she’s never seen R this peaceful or comfortable

It’s supposed to be a team bonding night. Someone’s idea of cohesion apparently involves watching Shrek for the fourteenth time in the dimly lit corner of someone’s living room. You’re slouched into the cushions next to Niamh, the faint scent of popcorn lingering in the air.

The scene in question: Donkey introducing his waffle-making prowess. Everyone’s laughing, the kind of tired laughter that comes after a long training day. You’re vaguely aware of Niamh muttering something about how she could really go for waffles right now when you let your head drop to her shoulder.

It’s not deliberate; you don’t plan these things. But Niamh freezes like you’ve just told her you’re about to run away and join a circus. You feel her body tense underneath you, like she’s debating whether she’s allowed to breathe.

You don’t notice, of course, because within seconds, you’re out like a light.

Niamh, on the other hand, looks like she’s being held hostage. Her eyes dart around the room as she tries to work out her next move.

“Everything alright, Niamh?” Guro asks, nudging her from the other side.

“Yeah, yeah,” Niamh whispers, though it’s very much not alright. You’re now fully nestled into her side, breathing softly, your hand unconsciously gripping the hem of her hoodie.

She feels her heart clench. When was the last time she saw you like this? Peaceful. Completely relaxed. Never, that’s when.

“I can’t move,” she mouths to the Norwegian, who raises an eyebrow.

“You can’t move, or you won’t move?”

Niamh shoots her a look. “Shut up”

“You’re whipped,” Guro whispers, smirking before turning her attention back to the movie.

Niamh tries to focus on the film, but all she can think about is you. You’re impossibly warm against her, your breath tickling the curve of her neck. The room starts to feel claustrophobic, and she’s vaguely aware of her arm going numb under your weight.

She considers shifting you, just slightly, so she can feel her fingers again. But then you sigh contentedly, nuzzling closer, and she decides that maybe she doesn’t need full circulation after all.

“You’re gonna have to pee eventually,” Guro whispers again, clearly enjoying this.

“Shut up,” Niamh hisses.

When the movie ends and someone turns the lights on, Niamh winces like she’s been caught doing something illicit.

“Is she asleep?” someone asks.

“Yes,” Niamh says, a little too defensively.

“No way.” Millie leans over to get a closer look. “She never sleeps during movie night”

“Well, she’s asleep now,” Niamh snaps, glaring at Millie like she’s about to throw hands if anyone dares wake you.

“You’re a goner, mate,” Millie says, laughing as she heads to the kitchen.

Eventually, people start packing up and heading out, leaving Niamh trapped on the sofa with you still draped over her. She debates waking you up—seriously debates it—but then she looks down at your face. You look so utterly content, and she knows she’s not going to be the one to ruin it.

So instead, she settles in, letting her head rest against yours. “Guess we’re staying here tonight,” she murmurs softly, running her fingers lightly through your hair.

You don’t respond, of course, but she swears you lean into her touch. And that’s all the encouragement she needs to endure the dead arm and growing hunger pangs.

#niamh charles #niamh charles x reader #woso #woso x reader

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syrma-sensei · 7 months ago

Text

→ Somewhere In Your Heart, Ch.1: Tenderly.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Fem!reader.

Rating: Explicit.

Setting: Pre-canon; in the early 1980s.

Warnings/tags: Ben's foul mouth, sexual innuendos, misogyny, racism, antiquated mentality...

Summary: Soldier Boy lives through the ennui of his peak, but everything is about to change when he has a shift in his heart.

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes at Legend, “No, ain't doing another stupid song. Let Noir do that shit, the kid's been so fucking eager to see his star shine.”

“It wasn't that bad, people loved it. Your fans loved it, and they want more from you,” Legend tries to reason, “Plus, can't win a Grammy award for best record of the year if it sucks. Moreover, it's pretty popular among the young folks.”

The supe sneers, taking a gulp from his drink, he relishes in the burning in his throat even if it's momentarily, “The young folks can suck on my balls. Honestly, the fuck went wrong with young men these days, huh?” He clicks his tongue, “Christ, it is true; good times do create weak, sappy men.” His head jerks to the side sardonically, “Bunch of pussies seeking some women's attention with shitty songs and snivelling lyrics. Chicks don't want no men like that.”

“Yeah well,” Legend shakes his head, a sly grin on his face, “The world's changing, Soldier Boy, if you don't keep up with it, you might end up outdated, just saying.”

Soldier Boy raises a conceited eyebrow, “I'm America's son, hero of all heroes, an actual fucking legend; people practically worship the ground I walk on. In what fucked up sense would that seem to you outdated anytime soon?”

“Time is a tricky thing,” Legend answers with a sigh, “But only for us I presume. I mean look at ya, your sixty-fourth birthday was last month and you don't look a day past thirty. Some lucky bastard you are.”

Soldier Boy grins smugly, placing his glass on the coffee table in front of him where they sat in the living room of his personal quarters in Vought America tower.

Legend decides not to take the time topic any further, because he knows better, such discussions with the strongest supe ever lived are futile and meaningless. Furthermore, he doesn't want to poke Soldier Boy's massive ego, the latter isn't infamous for his temper for nothing. Legend is back to ground zero. So, he tries another way.

“You'll be doing it, though. It's your next mission.” The playful tone from Legend's voice vanishes, a more professional, assertive one replaces it, “It's nothing you can't do. Think of the gals who'll cream their panties when they hear your voice singing their favourite hit.”

Soldier Boy’s lips flip pensively, “Tempting. But still no.”

“Can arrange a collab with whoever female singer you want.” Legend tries again.

“Can ya pair me up with Monroe?” Soldier Boy gives his manager a shit-eating smile.

“For fuck's sake, Soldier Boy,” Legend says with a frown. The little shit, greatest superhero or whatever else, can honestly be a huge pain in his ass. “Be serious.”

“Oh, I'm dead serious,” Soldier Boy grumbles, “Can you do it or not?”

“She died thirty years ago for Christ's sake, of course I can't pair you up with her.”

“Then the answer's still no. I'd rather spend time rubbing one out at Pauline from Donkey Kong than contributing to entertaining a pansy dogshit audience.”

Fuck you. Legend really wants to spit it out loud but he carefully curbs himself. He pinches the bridge of his nose, “Can't help but notice that making my work harder everyday is your new favourite sport, isn't it?”

“C'mon, don't be such a wuss,” Soldier Boy drawls, “Where would be the fun of an easy job? I'm doin' ya a favour; making you truly earn each penny you get paid. It's something we used to call 'hard work' back in my days.”

“Hard work can kiss my ass in that case,” Legend says humorously, shaking his head. Soldier Boy shares an amused chuckle with him.

“Seriously though—”

“Noir's cut out for that shit, not me. He'll be thrilled to do it.” Soldier Boy smirks wickedly as he interrupts him. The kid may not be funny. Fuck, he ain't, and that's precisely why he didn't get Axel Foley at Beverly Hills Cop — but it'd be hilarious to watch him fail in singing. Even if he didn't, nobody can beat Soldier Boy's performing talents.

Before Legend can answer he proceeds, “And tell him while you're at it that he has me to thank for giving him a window like that. He may as well make it fucking count. Make sure he does.” Legend shakes his head.

Soldier Boy and Legend continue to discuss business for another half an hour. Among the offers though; Nintendo wants to make a video game about Soldier Boy.

“For fuck's sake, do those Nips have any dignity?” Soldier Boy jeers.

“Well, it's all about business nowadays.” Legend says. “Arcade games have a large foot in the market, y'know. And, we're hiring many Japanese developers into our new entertainment department. So, I friendly remind you to tune down your slurs.”

Soldier Boy scoffs again. “I’ll see about that…”

When the talk is done, Soldier Boy dismisses the Director of Superhero Management of Vought.

“See ya at the wedding.” Legend says before he steps out of Soldier Boy's quarters.

“Hope fucking not.” The supe murmurs, taking the last gulp of his drink.

This evening Soldier Boy is to attend Dr. Jonah Vogelbaum's daughter's wedding as the guest of honour. The bride is a huge fan of his; her father has personally invited him to the wedding. What better honour can one get than having the greatest superhero ever lived as a guest at their wedding?

Soldier Boy heads to his dressing room to choose a formal outfit for the occasion. He's not going to wear his supe gear even though Vogelbaum made it very clear that he should. But Soldier Boy takes no shit from a nobody, and who the fuck Vogelbaum thinks he is to tell him what to do? Plus, that attire is for business, and him going to that wedding is a mere pursuit for pleasure. He isn't on some mission tonight but to find a good fuck for himself. Women, nonetheless, would throw themselves at his feet regardless of what he puts on. However, fancy tailored suits and bowties seem to pull women more effectively into his charm. When he clads in his supe suit, he's more intimidating; a god walking among men. Women would sigh at his sight and eye-fuck him, but beneath the layers of infatuation, he can perceive the lick of fear in their eyes. Like he's an invincible idol that cannot be touched by lesser hands. Not that he doesn't fucking relish in having such an impact, but he still prefers to pluck a catch in such occasions. Some nice chick who's eager to warm his bed in fearless vigour, some girl who can actually handle his raw strength and superhuman stamina. Especially when Countess won't be up his ass sulking like the bitch she is whenever he pays another woman his attention.

His relationship with Countess is nothing but for show. Pure business. Vought thought they looked good together and had an appealing chemistry in the public eye. Power couple and that shit. But in fact, Soldier Boy has no ounce of romantic feelings for her. Sure, they fuck around every now and then, but nothing more to add to it.

When he's fully dressed and spruced up he looks at himself in the full-length mirror and nods in approval. He'll definitely make the ladies' panties drop tonight.

Soldier Boy arranges a few lines of coke for himself on the coffee table. It'll help him handle all of the cock-sucking kiss asses he's going to interact with tonight.

God fucking damn.

It takes the mightiest of his steel aplomb not to roll his eyes or hiss a curse. The moment he arrives at the wedding in the swanky hotel, he has everyone's attention all to himself. Guests swarming around him with hearts in their eyes, already forgetting about the wedding. Happy shrieks emit from the gals, and full admiration in the eyes of pals.

Ben puts on an expertly-feigned and charming smirk as he nods his head and shakes hands.

“Oh my Gosh, it's really him!”

A pretty woman in a dashing white dress wobbles down in his direction. The fucking bride. Soldier Boy's grin couldn't get any wider. The girl practically left her fucking husband standing with his groomsmen and came marching to him. Something huge and satisfying sprouts in the depths of his chest when he sees the young man briefly stink-eye in his way.

“If it ain't the queen of the show,” He drawls with a stentorian voice and a conceited raise of his brow. The bride holds a breath, her companion bimbos of bridesmaids sighing dreamily, “Well, congrats on tying the knot, darlin',” Large hand taking the bride's gloved one as he leans down to press a light kiss on her knuckles, and the girls squeal.

“Thank you, sir,” The corner of Soldier Boy's lips curls up into a half grin as he hears the groom's curbed voice, “A huge pleasure for us having the greatest man alive honouring our wedding,”

The man extends his hand out for a shake and Soldier Boy doesn't disappoint. “What can I say, Sonia is one of my best girls,” He sends a playful wink to the bride, and her groom's face rises in colour. However, she giggles timidly with blushing cheeks, and covers her mouth slightly.

“Thank you again, sir, for coming,” Sonia chirps, “Means a lot to us… to me, right, darling?”

Her new husband answers with tight lips, “Yeah, of course, please enjoy your time here, sir.”

Sure hell I'll do.

After signing some autographs, which mostly came from the bridesmaids on this special occasion, Soldier Boy lets out an elongated sigh before plucking a flûte of champagne from a server wandering around with a full tray of pleasantries. With the first sip invading his strong taste buds, he regrets it instantly. That shit is extra fruity with enhanced floral notes, it made his face controt in disgust.

“You're late,” The Doc's voice comes curt when he appears next to him, eyeing him disapprovingly. His unpleasing presence made the twitch of his face worse. The little shit. He should be kissing his ass and thanking him for wasting his time on this crap. Soldier Boy should hand it to him, though, he's got some balls. He scoffs. Ever since Vogelbaum gained Stan Edgar's infinite corroboration and support, he's become insufferable. And perhaps sometimes looming dangerously close to make Soldier Boy's hackles rise.

Ben grins indifferently at him, “Had a tight schedule,” Be glad I'm here you ungrateful old fuck.

Vogelbaum stretches his lips and nods, “You have my thanks anywho,” He grumbles, “Though I strictly told you to honour us with your presence in your suit.”

“Yeah, you did,” Soldier Boy replies with a shit-eating grin, “But wasn't in me to steal the light away from your breathtaking helluva daughter,” He patted the doctor's shoulder, “Cheer the hell up, Doc, it's your daughter's wedding and you have the greatest man ever lived as your guest!”

Ben can't endure another second of this man's company. He hands him the flûte and threads his way to the bar to order a drink. A real fucking drink. He sights a vacant stool next to a pretty woman who seems to be without company. He grins to himself when he catches a better angle of her. She is a beauty. Maybe she's the lucky one tonight. He smoothes his suit jacket and adjusts his bowtie before sliding nimbly on the stool.

He orders a strong liquor from the bartender and the beauty next to him cooes, “Make it two, please.”

He turns his head to her with an arched eyebrow, because fuck does he appreciate a woman who's not a lightweight, “Tough night?”

Her painted mouth curls up into an inveigling smile, “Should I ask you the same question?”

Brave. Tempting. He loves brave. Whereas most women are intimidated by him, this one here though, she looks unfazed. He likes it. He wonders what she's gonna sound when he's balls deep inside of her. Timid, brave, strong, weak, they all sound the same in his bed when he touches the magic button. One thing he was certain of was she'd sound pretty in her throes of pleasure.

He gives her figure a quick scan; she isn't one of bridesmaids that's for sure. She's wearing a forest green dress. Her skin is glowing beneath the velvet, and a pleasant fragrance emitting from her body. Her neck and ears are adorned with gold and rubies. She looks hazily beautiful.

“Groom's or bride's?” He asks when their drinks are served.

She flashes him a grin with those tempting lips, “Why wouldn't you hazard a guess like when you do on a minefield?” She winks, taking a gulp of her drink.

Interesting, he raises an amused brow. At least she ain't playing easy. He has to give her that; she's making his night way more entertaining. He likes to play prey and predator let alone when she's practically inviting him to do so.

A playful grin graces his lips, replying, “Can't risk bursting a pretty lady like you tho, can I?”

She lets out a small laugh, “God forbid, what kinda superhero would you be then?” His eyebrows knit together slightly as he watches her grabbing her purse and preparing herself to leave.

“It was nice running into you, sir,” She remarks, “But you'll have to excuse me…”

“Sure, sweet cheeks…”

She nods as she moves away with such grace and swiftness. Ben doesn't realise he was holding his breath until it clicks within him. Fuck, he forgot to ask her her name. But nothing to worry about, he catches her entering the powder room. In moments, he'll go after her and take this rather interesting conversation somewhere else.

He waits though. For more than fifteen minutes. Vogelbaum makes his way on the stage to raise a toast to his daughter and her groom, and he doesn't forget to give Ben a word of gratitude for being here. People cheer and applaud when the lights shine upon him, and he smiles and nods at them. On another occasion, he'd enjoy this to the fullest. His mind, however, is occupied by finding a pretty seductress. Can it be that she left? No, he doesn't think so. Fuck, if only he could distinguish her voice out of the many nattering and yapping voices despite his superhuman hearing. He considers asking Vogelbaum about her later. Maybe the man would be useful to him for once. But he will not have to, though.

The lights of the hall ebb away, save for the ones above the music stage.

A wide grin slips into his lips when he sees her behind the microphone, and their eyes lock for a moment. She gives him a teasing wink.

The little minx, he thinks.

Tender music emanates from the piano and she starts to sing with a silky voice.

The evening breeze caressed the trees tenderly

Damn, he likes that song. And her voice couldn't be more on brand for it!

The trembling trees embraced the breeze tenderly

He feels the said breeze of her cooes and it makes him shiver.

Then you and I came wandering by

And lost in a sigh were we

Ben conjures a vivid image of her sighs of pleasure.

The shore was kissed by sea and mist tenderly

She's the shore, and his mouth is the sea.

I can’t forget how two hearts met breathlessly

Your arms opened wide

And closed me inside

You took my lips

You took my love

So tenderly

A loud applause erupted from the guests when she finished, and Ben found himself amongst the riveted clappers.

God fucking damn.

Ben knows a lot of singers, hell, he works with them sometimes. But never has he ever heard such a mellifluous voice like this one! How come he hasn't known of her before? A new face, he guesses. He wonders if Legend knows her.

Ben stops clapping as his conversation with Legend that afternoon flashes through his mind. That's it.

Shortly after the wedding, Ben heads back to his quarters in Vought's tower, impatiently dialling Legend's number.

“That sappy song you wanted me to do—” He says right away.

“Well, good evening to you too,” Legend drawls from the other end, “As happy as I am to hear that, Ben, but I'm kinda fucking tired to talk business right now. Despite my marvellous traits, I'm still a human.”

“I'll do it.”

Soldier Boy could hear Legend switching the handset of the telephone to the other hand. And before the latter says anything he proceeds.

“Only on one condition...”

🦅 Next Chapter: A New Window.

🦅 Somewhere In Your Heart Masterlist.

🦅 Soldier Boy Masterlist.

Taglist: @thebiggerbear, @zepskies, @deanbrainrotwritings, @deansbbyx, @deans-spinster-witch

@venus-haze, @kaleldobrev, @k-slla, @ketchupjasmin...

#soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x y/n #soldier boy imagine #jensen ackles #soldier boy x oc #soldier boy imagines #the boys fanfic #the boys fanart #jensen ackles characters

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threepandas · 3 months ago

Text

Bad End: Century Demons

The steam engine blasted vapor into the air. Cacophonous chatter from the crowds all around us, pressing like a physical weight. I truely did hate traveling. Granted, there was nothing for it, we were needed. Being their Majesty's Special Task Force and all. But STILL! Awful. Just, awful!

It was the pushing, really. The constant shoving. Flashs of insight into lives I wanted nothing to do with. That individual? Marriage was collapsing. This one? Had debts. The girl who just stepped on my foot, thought she was in love, but honestly? Any adult could tell you how badly it was going to end. He was using her.

Frankly, I wish we could walk. At this point? I would honestly take a flipping DONKEY! But nooooo! What has my husband decided to do? "Let's take the TRAIN, darling! It'll be an ADVENTURE! Save so much TIME!"

He's lucky I married him AT ALL. Fuck. I HAD options! Could have been a Baron's wife. Well-to-do! But NO, I wanted to HELP people. Like a FOOL. Gods, my mother was RIGHT! Cute air-heads WOULD be the death of-!

I finally spot Arthur, the sweet idiot, looking lost by our baggage. Map in hand. Like a confused puppy told to do arithmetic or be scolded, his anxiety is palpable. I gather my skirts and shove. Fuck being polite. Everyone ELSE seems to be fine, being stampeding herd animals. Why not I? Move!

"O-Oh thank goodness! Darling!" Arthur gasps, nearly dropping the map as he reaches for me as I get close. His eye are wide and his expression frazzled. Tone as though someone has been compressing his chest. "There are-! There are so many PATHS! I didn't-! And I-! Oh dear. W-what do we do? Darling, I can't-! It's so-!"

Damn it! I KNEW this would happen! This was an awful idea! Reaching for my husband's face, I cup his cheeks, propriety be damned. Pull him close to press his forhead against mine. Match my breath, dear. Focus, darling, just... focus. Close your eyes. You do not See. Curse crowded places and what they do to us. We should have moved to the countryside years ago.

But no, no Arthur would never leave his Sister. And I'll not leave him behind. Damn it all, why? WHY?

Why did she have to pick the Nobility Route?

It was bad enough, remembering this world "wasn't real". That it had a "plot" for Gods sake. Bad ENOUGH to realize that the monster under the bed very much WERE a real and present threat, that I SHOULD be concerned about. But fool that I am? Did I HAVE to fall in love with the Protagonist's brother? Sweet and foolish? A simple, if air headed man? Apparently!

All I could do, now, was try to protect him. Try and protect myself.

Ignore the nasty, judging looks, being sent our way. Piss off! The lot of you! I took no vows to YOU. Stood in no church! There us exactly ONE person in the train station I care about, and it is NONE of you, so keep your snide opinions to yourself! Breathe, Arthur. There we go, dear.

Pulling back slightly, I check his eyes. They flick and track things unseen. He is still unusually pale. He... he will be rather disappointed. He was excited to try the trains. To him? They are a bold new technology.

Maybe once we get farther from the city. Here, at least, he is drowning.

Then, a change. Sudden and swiftly building. Whatever Paths my husband traced were disappearing, narrowing, even as terror sweeped across his face. Only twice I had ever seen this before. Once, was an earthquake. The largest seen in over 400 years. The other? A bombing just before the royal wedding, we had been still engaged then. But the way he had frozen? Mid-sentence?

It is BURNED into my mind. Just like the horror that followed.

Bellowing, I command everyone to get out. Evacuate.

NOW.

But already... it is too late. Down the line of the train, terrible symbols flash into being. Molten red metal, on the side of the train cars themselves, instants before the BLOW. Unspeakable shrapnel bombs. Made of people and metal and MAGIC. The train cars lifted from the tracks by the knock back, smashing into fleeing crowds, even as the next car goes off. And then the next. And the next.

A writhing chain of death.

Like the dying spasms if a great snake.

My husband is frozen. No. As I drag him down? I realize with horror, worse. Seizing. It has NEVER been this bad! What is HAPPENING?! What Path is he SEEING that could cause such OVERLOAD? Terrified, I watch as thin trails of blood, seep from his eyes, his nose. Oh Gods. Oh GODS! Arthur? ARTHUR!

Love! Stay with me! Please! D-Darling, Please! Focus on my voice! You have to let them GO! Close your EYES, Arthur! Don't look! Please, DON'T LOOK! It's KILLING YOU!

"That's rather the point."

I stop. From on the ground, where I crawl. Dragging my unresponsive husband to safety. My gaze finally whips around to ahead of us. Amongst the chaos... stands a conductor. Pressed uniform clean and hair entirely too long. His eyes... oh Gods, his EYES. I do not need to touch him to know. That? THAT is not a human.

Not anymore.

Shrapnel flies harmlessly over us, but comes no where near him. As though where he stands is Forbidden to touch. All around him, those fleeing? Suffering? Do not notice him. Do not SEE. Yet, on instinct alone... avoid him.

Because, of course they do. B-because that?

That Is A Demon.

We weren't even remotely prepared for this. And even if we WERE. Everything is packed away. Pressed to the floor, all I can do? Is drag my husband close. Feel tear begin to fill my eyes and choke my throat, as I curse the Gods. Damn it. D-Damn it! I drag Arthur under me. A-as though... as though we were just... just resting at home. Cuddling, as we so often do.

I-It will be okay, darling. Come back to me. Arthur... Please...

(We promised to go together...)

"He really is useless, isn't he? Can't protect you. Couldn't warn you. Can't even die, where he's supposed to be. Really, how hard is it? To just get on the damned train? Quite inconsiderate, your worthless lump of a first husband. It really won't be hard, no doubt, to surpass him in every way."

I drag Arthur closer. Cradling his head to me chest. You'll have to go through ME, you fucking monster! It's.. it's a laughable defense. I'm tissue paper. We both are. With out supplies and the proper anti-demonics? H-he's going to SHRED us. But... but! I took a VOW.

Married this man.

I... I love him.

Even if he's not awake. Even if he's trapped in his own gifts by this BASTARD of a Demon. That's.. That's okay. I'm still here. W-We're still together. And I love him. Silly, ridiculous, air-headed fool that he is. My quite scholar. M-My best friend. I glare at the damnable creature before us.

"You really do have such lovely eyes." It notes, tilting it's head. "Does he appreciate them? Somehow, I doubt it. He makes you live in squalor, after all. Dresses you in rags and works you like an animal. You were meant for so much... more. I can feel it."

With a boneless grace he squats, bringing him closer even as I try to drag us away, he reaches out. One hand both perfectly human yet tipped with claws. In the distance, I hear doors being forced open. Commanding voices. Prayers and the glimpses of shining light. The Paladins are here.

Too late... I... I fear it is too late.

Demon skin touchs my face and I scream, as I am cast beneath the waves. It is so dark. Oh Gods. OH GODS. IT IS SO DARK. HELP ME. HELP ME! IT HURTS! It HuRtS! HELP M-!

"Shhh, drink deep and sink down, Love. I will be there to catch you. Forget about him. Forget about everything. You are made for so much more. We were meant to be together. Just let go, sweet."

"Just let go..."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yanblr #reader insert #yanderecore #yandere otome #demonic yandere #married reader #psychic reader #bad End century demons #bad end century demons au #tw death

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devildomwriter · 2 months ago

Text

Be Forever Near Me | Simeon x Reader

1K+ words | GN! Reader | CW: none

The sound of joyous music echoed through the halls from the record player. The smell of cookies lingered in the air and the fresh batch waited on colorful plates in the kitchen to be eaten.

Snow could be seen falling outside the window, bringing an unusual calm to the Devildom. The streets outside were illuminated by tall lamps wrapped in green and red tinsel and every door on every home had a wreath whether they wanted it or not.

Christmas had come to the Devildom again and after several misadventures which you’d come to expect you finally had a moment of rest. You could think of no place better than Purgatory Hall, commanding the brothers to leave you be for now unless there was an emergency.

Solomon, Luke, and Raphael were gift shopping which left you with a fortuitous opportunity to be alone with Simeon—a genuine Christmas angel.

Simeon was rearranging the navigation scene specifically to bother Raphael as you both waited for the cookies he and Luke made to cool down.

You prepared two mugs of hot cocoa and listened to the soft melody Simeon sang in tune with the record player.

As expected, the only Christmas music played in the purgatory hall was in celebration of the origin of Christmas. So you’d come to learn every lyric by heart for Silent Night, What Child is This, Mary Did You Know, and many others on repeat.

Simeon giggled to himself as he finally stepped away from the nativity scene, having put baby Jesus on the roof of the manager and the animals inside of it. Solomon had done this originally and Simeon was leaving Raphael to believe that the sorcerer was solely responsible. He couldn’t help but mess with the people he mentored at least a little bit. He was very motherly but in contrast also a bit of a brat and you loved that about him.

Simeon placed his hand on the small of your back and smiled over you at the cocoa mug. You handed him the penguin and took Santa for yourself because you knew that mug weirded him out the way its blue eyes seemed to stare at you.

“So considerate,” Simeon whispered and held your hand, leading you to sit on the couch with him.

He placed his mug on a coaster on the side table and unrolled the Christmas blanket Satan had gifted them—the one covered in cats with Santa hats. It made you both laugh whenever you saw it.

Simeon threw the blanket over you both and scooted in closer, you did the same, feeling the side of his hip against yours. The contact made you both blush even though you were used to slightly more intimate encounters. This was a secret of course.

Simeon handed the remote to you to find a good Christmas movie so you chose Little One, a cute Disney short about the donkey Mary rode before he became her donkey. It brought you to tears despite the happy ending and Simeon smiled warmly at you and hugged you closer.

“You have such a big heart,” he chuckled as he rubbed your head.

He took a sip of his hot cocoa so you did the same and sighed.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concerned with such a deep sigh.

You smiled and nodded, “Yeah. It’s a relaxed sigh not a stressed one.”

You could see him immediately relax as he grinned and leaned back into the couch. He looked at the clock and his expression saddened just enough you could see.

“What’s wrong Simeon?”

“Oh…” he said, looking guilty. “I was just thinking I don’t have you to myself much longer…”

You blushed and shook your head. “I can just text Solomon that we’re taking a nap and not to bother us.”

Simeon laughed. “Do you think he’ll buy that?”

You shrugged, “he doesn’t have to buy it. He knows not to bother us either way.”

Simeon thought over the idea for a moment and smiled in confirmation. “Yes. Let’s head to my room then.”

“I’ll grab some of the cookies!”

“Oh, yes. That will be nice.”

You followed Simeon to his room with too many cookies for just the two of you and set it on his writing desk.

You both sat at the end of his bed and he tilted his head curiously. “Ah. Well…now what should we do? We can’t be too loud, Luke will be home soon.”

“Raphael too.”

“Right…”

You felt a yawn come on and quickly covered your mouth when you got an idea. You looked at the snow falling outside, the cozy warm bed, and listened to the gentle music outside.

“Why don’t we actually take a nap.”

Simeon smiled brightly. “That sounds heavenly.”

Simeon sifted through his closet to find a weighted blanket warm enough he could crack the window just slightly to bring in enough cold air to lull you to sleep.

He took off his shoes, socks, cape, and jewelry and hopped into bed next to you already on your side grinning up at him.

Simeon pulled the blanket up higher facing you with an equally bright grin. You felt him move his feet between yours and he rested his hand around your hip while the other cupped his cheek against the pillow.

You sighed again in unison with him causing a small chuckle to escape his lips.

“This really is heavenly,” he commented to himself looking more relaxed than he had in a while.

You both exchanged a few words back and forth until finally Simeon no longer responded. Even though you’d assumed you were more tired than Simeon it was clear he needed this a lot more.

You snuggled in closer, careful not to wake him, and rested your head beneath his chin feeling the small warm puffs of breath against your head until you too joined him in sleep.

#obey me shall we date #obey me simeon #obey me x reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me simeon x reader #obey me shall we date simeon #obey me shall we date simeon x reader #obey me short fic #obey me fan fic #obey me fanfic #obey me drabble #obey me story #obey me writings #om simeon #om Simeon x reader #omswd simeon #omswd simeon x reader #obey me 25 days of Christmas #25 days of obey me Christmas

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foundtherightwords · 2 months ago

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Fallen Empires - Chapter 6

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: none (just a brief mention of arousal... things are heating up between Daphne and Geta!)

Chapter word count: 3.6k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

Chapter 6

It was almost the ides of June. The weather grew unbearably hot. Geta had toured extensively in the Eastern provinces, but it had always been in the comfort of an imperial convoy, with litters and tents for stops along the way and marble palaces to rest in once he reached his destination. Even when marching with the army, he'd never had to deal with such blistering heat. The elevation of the hill did little to help. The sun beat down so relentlessly that the rocky ground became quite literally baked and remained warm even long after the sun had set.

Due to the heat, Daphne now did all her work at dawn and in the evening, when the heat was more tolerable. During the day, she retreated inside the hut, where the mud-brick walls provided some relief. This meant she was a constant presence around Geta these days, and he was rather uneasy about it. Why he should feel uneasy about her, he didn't know. He no longer suspected her of duplicity and betrayal. If anything, he'd grown to trust her. Yet her presence put him on edge, and he found himself watching her while she moved about the hut, working on her potions and poultices or practicing her lettering. She had made some labels for the garden by scratching plant names on thin, flat pieces of pine board, and was now working on the labels for her medicine by stitching letters onto long ribbons to be wrapped around the jars.

When he offered to teach her to read and write, he'd only wanted something to occupy his mind, something to divert him from the tiring thought of retribution and punishment. To his surprise, he had rather enjoyed it, perhaps because it was the only time he could tell her what to do. He had enjoyed teaching her to play draughts as well, even though she was annoyingly good at it. In the army, the soldiers would sometimes challenge each other or place bets on games of draughts, to make them more exciting. Daphne could've cleaned out any of them.

He told himself he enjoyed her company simply because it was the only company to be had for miles around, other than the goats and the donkey. It was true that she was nothing special. She was only a peasant woman, with simple thoughts and simple feelings. And she wasn't even attractive. Her chin was too pointy, her nose too long, her mouth too large. Her figure—what he could see of it, swathed in layers of voluminous linen to combat against the sun—was too thin, all sharp bones and hard muscles developed from her trek up and down the hill, with none of the soft curves Roman women often boasted about. Only those green eyes promised some beauty, but they were so frank, so displeasing in their open stare that Geta sometimes had to turn away from them, afraid they could see to his very core and lay bare all the lies and the guilt, wriggling there like maggots.

The only time her eyes had looked at him with some softness was after the encounter with that odious father of hers, and even then it had only been briefly.

Perhaps that was why he enjoyed teaching her. She wasn't looking at him then. Instead, he could watch her frowning in concentration under the lamplight, her long lashes lowering as she bent over the wax tablet. He didn't have to worry about catching her eyes.

Damnation. For someone who didn't like her eyes, he certainly spent a lot of time thinking about them.

But what else was there to think about? Thinking about his would-be assassin and the conspirators got him nowhere, and thinking about Rome and the constant grumbling of the Senate only exhausted him. Even the possibility of conquering Parthia no longer held much appeal. He might have managed to sack Arbela, but the Parthians had proved to be formidable adversaries, and in his current state, he could never face them. He'd never realized before how tiring and tired it all was, this constant warring and conquest and ruling. So he turned away from them and thought of something else, something more pleasant.

One morning, he was up before his usual time. He went outside, intending to make the best of the cooler air by putting in some hours of sparring at the pine grove, when he spied movements in the garden. It was very early—only a border of pale pink snaked along the horizon, while the sky and the rest of the world were still covered in a bluish-gray veil, and some remnant of the night air was still lingering amongst the stones, not yet melted away under the sun—too early for anyone else to be about. His hand immediately went to the hilt of the dagger that had never left his side, a reminder of how close he'd come to death. He crept around the side of the hut to come up to the garden from the back, so whoever was there would not see him.

It was a woman, dressed in a short saffron tunic. She was moving between the garden rows, shaking the branches of the olive trees above them. Dewdrops fell from the branches, glittering around her like diamonds, splashing on the plants below. At the end of a row, she turned around and saw him.

"Kalimera," she said, using the usual Greek morning greeting. "You're up early."'

It was Daphne. She must have gotten up before him, and he hadn't noticed her empty cot in the front room when he went out.

For a moment, he stood transfixed. It was Daphne and yet not Daphne. Without her usual stole and mantle, she was no longer the dour woman always hurrying from one place to another, worry permanently etched on her brow. Standing before him was a fresh-faced girl, skin rosy and eyes sparkling in the light of the breaking dawn, disarmingly, magically smiling.

"So are you," he said, once he'd found his voice again. "What are you doing?"

"Watering the garden. Out here we have to make use of every bit of moisture we can get." She shook another olive tree as she spoke, and ducked away from the ensuing sprinkle.

"Why don't you just let the dew fall on its own?"

"No, it'll disappear when the sun rises. You must catch it at the right time, when the air is warm enough for the dewdrops to form, but not too warm that they melt away." She glanced at him. "Want to help?"

Geta was no gardener, but he had to admit this was rather sensible. He shrugged, put the dagger back into its sheath, and joined Daphne. Grabbing hold of one of the olive trees, he gave it a vigorous shake, bringing down a shower of not just dewdrops but old leaves and dead branches as well. Daphne laughed.

"Not so hard," she admonished. "Stay away from the branch, or all of the dew will fall on you and none on the garden. And shake it gently, like shaking ripe fruits from a tree." She gave the tree a firm but quick shake. Geta, who had never shaken ripe fruits from any tree, followed suit. "That's the way."

Nodding in approval, Daphne plucked the leaves out of his curls and brushed the dew from his forehead, her gesture natural as if she wasn't even thinking about it. Only when her fingers grazed his skin and their eyes met that she seemed to realize what she was doing. She dropped her hand and turned away, coloring slightly.

As they went down the garden path side by side, working together in silence, Geta kept glancing at Daphne. Something about her was different. It wasn't just because she had left off her usual covering and was showing a body that was unexpectedly lithe and elegant, with long, slender limbs and rounded shoulders. It wasn't just because her hair had caught on a branch and come loose from its usual tight knot, and was now framing her face like a soft cloud. It wasn't just because she, too, was stealing glances at him, her eyes no longer staring and critical, but with a curiosity that matched his own, and a gentleness that made him think of peaceful green hills and calming rivers again. It wasn't just because the rising sun was making her skin glow, reminding him of the rosy-fingered Aurora in her robe of saffron, hastening from the streams of Okeanos to bring light to mortals and immortals, just like Homer had written.

Confound the woman. Why did she always turn him into a bloody poet?

It wasn't because of any of those things, or perhaps it was because of all of them. He'd thought her just a simple peasant woman, but perhaps there was something confounding in her after all. She was like these rocky hills where she grew up, harsh and forbidding at first glance, but soft and nurturing to those who knew what to search for and where to look.

He didn't get any sparring done that morning, but he didn't mind.

The heat continued relentlessly and showed no sign of letting up. One evening, Geta could take it no more and went into the garden, intending to have a swim in the cistern.

"Where are you going?" Daphne asked, looking up from the wax tablet.

He told her. She looked appalled.

"You can't!" she exclaimed. "We must save the water for cooking and drinking. Not to mention that your lungs cannot stand being in such cold, they may get inflamed again—"

"Fine, fine," he said impatiently. He'd learned that when Daphne put her healer's voice on, it was best not to argue with her. "I only want a bath, is that too much to ask?" Daphne had never given him more than a basin of water, which sufficed for washing but not enough to cool him down in this infernal heat. He didn't know how Daphne could stand it. Even in her layers and layers of linen, she always appeared cool and fresh.

Now she got to her feet. "All right, I suppose you can have a bath. But inside, mind."

She dragged into the hut a wooden washtub, just large enough for a grown man to sit in, and set it by the fire, where the embers were still glowing weakly after cooking their supper. Geta expected her to fill the tub and was greatly disappointed when she only set down two buckets.

"That's all?" he said glumly.

"You have to get used to it. We're on the edge of a desert, you know," said Daphne sternly, as she set a pot of water on the fire and added a handful of dried herb to it. The water boiled, and the herb gave off a pleasant scent, so clean and fresh that it seemed to chase the heat away despite the boiling pot. With a start, Geta recognized it as the scent he'd always smelled on Daphne.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Soapwort," said Daphne, pouring the fragrant concoction into one of the buckets, and the water immediately started to froth. "We have no bath oils here, so this is what we use for washing." She put down a washcloth and a towel on a stool next to the tub. "Right. That's everything you need. I'll just be outside if you want anything." She picked up her wax tablet and a lamp and went out, tactfully closing the door behind her.

Geta had bathed this way while on active campaign with the army, so despite his grumbling, he managed to acquit himself quite well. Sitting in the tub, he used a dipper to pour the soapwort water over his body then scrubbed himself with the washcloth as best he could. There wasn't nearly as much water as he'd like, but it felt good to get thoroughly clean for the first time in months. As he lifted his arm to reach behind his back, however, a groan escaped him. The wound on his shoulder was still sore, the skin and muscles stiffened despite his exercising, and he couldn't reach far enough behind him to scrub his own back.

After a few tries and grumbles of frustration, he gave up and called out for Daphne.

She came in at once. "What do you need?"

"My back—I can't reach—" he mumbled, awkwardly covering himself with the towel. It was ridiculous. He'd never had any qualms about appearing naked in front of others—indeed, in his youth in Rome, he had attended many feasts and orgies where nudity was the accepted uniform—so why was he suddenly uncomfortable about being unclothed in front of this woman?

Daphne seemed to have noticed his discomfort. "Don't worry," she said, chuckling. "It's nothing that I haven't seen. Who do you think washed you while you were delirious with fever?" Her lighthearted tone did nothing to set him at ease.

She took the washcloth he put on the edge of the tub and started scrubbing his back in vigorous, practiced movements. No maidenly blushing, no modest lowering of the eye. At such a complete lack of bashfulness, Geta's own embarrassment subsided.

"You're probably used to a more civilized form of bathing than this, I imagine," she said.

Geta thought of the bathhouses of Rome with their many rooms and pools of various temperatures, with their masseuses and strigil-wielding slaves. One of those had been built in his name just shortly before he left for the East. They had their uses, but like most things in Rome, they were also temples to hedonism and excesses, where people came to do much more than just bathing. He wouldn't exactly call them civilized.

"I'm in the army," now he said with a shrug. "We're lucky if we get to bathe at all."

"Where were you before Parthia?" Daphne asked. Then she quickly added, "I didn't mean to pry. You don't have to tell me."

"It's all right." He was sick of keeping secrets. "I was in Germania. And Caledonia before that."

The washcloth stopped moving on his back. "You were in Caledonia?" Daphne asked, her voice hushed.

He cursed under his breath. She probably had an acquaintance in the army. A brother, a sweetheart, or a husband? But if she did, it would have been—what, eight, ten years ago? Her acquaintance would likely have been in the auxiliaries, one of the troops offered up by King Abgar VIII to prove his loyalty to Rome, back when Osroene still had some form of independence and was not yet a province.

To confirm his suspicion, Daphne continued, "Do you know anyone from the auxiliary forces there at all?"

"No, not really," replied Geta. It was the truth. His father had dragged him and his brother to Caledonia to take them away from the decadence of Rome, in the hope of mending their dissolute ways and teaching them how to rule. It hadn't worked. Even when Geta became sole Emperor, though he tried to mingle with the troops and marched and ate and fought with them, he could never be one of them. The soldiers always viewed him with a certain suspicion, more fear than respect. He didn't mind, as long as they didn't question his authority. And that was with the legions. The provincial auxiliaries were essentially strangers to him.

"Why do you ask?" now he said to Daphne.

"My husband," she replied in an expressionless voice.

Her husband? Geta thought of the tunics he'd been wearing, of her strange behavior the day he first got out of bed. That explained it. He found himself wondering what the man had been like. Must have been a good one, since Daphne obviously still mourned him.

The thought of mourning reminded Geta of his predicament. Who would mourn him? Had they given him up for dead and mourned already? Had he been replaced? No, he couldn't believe that. At least his mother would never, not until she saw his body with her own eyes. Unless the army informed her of his disappearance, she may believe that he was still Edessa. He hoped it was true. Knowing his mother, she would've torn the Earth apart searching for him if she'd known. Macrinus must be keeping the truth from her. He felt the old anger flaring up again. What in Hades was Macrinus doing, sitting about twiddling his thumbs? Why hadn't they found him by now?

"He was killed in Caledonia, eight years ago," Daphne continued in that same flat tone, though he thought he could detect a trembling touch in it, like she was trying not to cry. "Or so I was told."

"We lost a lot of men in Caledonia," he said, as if that could be any comfort. The Caledonian campaign had been a success at first, but then the barbarian tribes, with their primitive but devastating tactics, had driven the Roman force behind Hadrian's Walls. Then his father had died in Eboracum, and Geta had no longer seen a point in pursuing the tribes. He'd had more pressing matters, such as his brother's presence and growing ambition like a thorn in his side. He'd hurried back to Rome to secure his power, leaving the Caledonians to their cold and misty land, thinking nothing about the lives that had been wasted in a campaign that led nowhere.

"I never find out what happened to him," Daphne said. She began scrubbing again, so hard it almost hurt him, but he made no sound. "Just a message saying he was killed. I don't even know when he was killed, or how long that message took to reach me. That's why I asked. I was hoping you could tell me something. Anything."

He didn't turn around, but he could hear the grief, despair, and resignation in her voice, and feel a strange little twinge in his heart. When his father decided to lift the ban on marriage for soldiers, Geta had gone along with it, believing it would raise morale and make them more popular with the army. But now, listening to Daphne, he was no longer so certain. Let the men have their fun with the camp followers and the local women of the garrison towns, but allow them to marry and leave behind wives to grieve and wonder for the rest of their lives like this? It was cruel.

Daphne dropped her hand on the edge of the tub. It looked small, vulnerable, like the wing of a wounded bird, so unlike the strong, capable hands he was used to. Without thinking, he reached out and placed his hand on top, his fingers fitting perfectly in the dips between hers.

She took in a small, sharp breath. Her hand flexed gently under his, as if she was trying to feel its grasp more thoroughly. Before he could stop himself, he was caressing her hand, running his fingertips over her knuckles. Something smooth—her forehead, or perhaps her cheek—came to rest on his bare back, and a slow, shuddering breath, like a quiet, choked-back sob, escaped her lips, blowing hot against his skin.

His heart thumped. She had never sat so close to him, had never touched him in any way other than medically; yet here she was, practically embracing him, her hand in his, her face pressed into his back, her hair tickling his shoulder blades, and that earthy, enchanting fragrant was everywhere, until he didn't know if it was coming from him or her or the very air around them.

One thing he did know: he was becoming aroused. And it wasn't the purely physical type of arousal he usually got upon waking up in the morning. He was aroused by her.

Even though she was behind and could not see him, he froze, not daring to move a muscle lest the traitorous towel chose that moment to shift and reveal his condition to her.

Hades. What was the matter with him? He, who used to think nothing about pulling a serving girl out of a banquet and having his way with her in the anteroom before sauntering back in time for the second course, he who had had camp followers fighting for a place in his tent at night while on campaign, was now blushing and squirming in the presence of a woman, like a boy still wearing a bulla around his neck!

Daphne seemed to have noticed his tension, for she lifted her head from his back—much to his regret—and leaned down. "Is everything all right?" she asked with professional concern. "The water's not too cold for you, is it?"

Her mouth was right by his ear, close enough to touch. Hades. This was more than a man could endure.

"Everything's fine," he said, snatching the washcloth from her. "I can manage now."

She sat back, clearly put out by his brusque tone, but when he started scrubbing his chest with rather too much force than necessary, she only said, "Careful, or you may tear your wounds open again," in the same wry tone she often used with him, and went out again, taking along the pot of leftover soapwort.

Chapter 7

A bulla is an amulet worn by Ancient Roman boys before they came of age.

Soldiers in Ancient Rome were forbidden to marry while on active duty (though this didn't apply to centurions and higher-ups), but Severus Septimius did lift that ban in 197.

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #gladiator 2 #emperor geta #gladiator 2 fic #emperor geta fic #geta #emperor geta x ofc #geta x ofc

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cheonstapes · 1 year ago

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toji fushiguro stars in... 'PEACH GUMMY CANDY' ☆ ～('▽^人)

a/n ~ i was literally just eating these japanese peach gummies and i felt a sudden surge of inspiration, and i love toji so it was a match made in my tummy. this is a lil self indulgent cause i'm addicted to peaches and just needed an outlet to express that ( ‾́ ◡ ‾́ )

summary; toji never liked peaches. well, not until he met you.

wc; 400+

pairings; toji fushiguro x fem!reader

cw; SMUT!! toji being a hater, reader loving peaches, oral, dom!toji, sub!reader, fingering, squirtin, established relationship, he really loves you, peaches, peaches, peaches, peaches, 🍑, nawt proofread - just peaches

saying you liked peaches was an understatement.

peach soap, peach perfume, peach shampoo, peach themed makeup, peach flavoured lip gloss, literal peaches. it was kinda overwhelming. toji hated peaches. he’s never had a sweet tooth, being the greek god he is - he refused to eat anything he deemed ‘too sweet’, and peaches were the highest on that list.

it irked you at first. the petty sneer that he’d pull whenever he sensed anything remotely peach related around him, he just couldn’t understand how you were so obsessed with the stupid fruits. but of course, toji could never resist spoiling his sweet baby. soon, you started seeing peachy little gifts all around the apartment.

the fridge stocked with peach tea, a basket of fresh peaches in the kitchen, cute peach slippers by your bed. you thought he had officially lost it. you weren’t complaining though, after seeing how happy you got with each gift they seemingly doubled in amount.

he would never say it out loud, but toji was starting to like peaches.

especially after he got a taste of your sweet cunt. he didn’t think it was possible but the sheer amount of peaches you consume made you taste even better than you already did. head between your thighs, stubble tickles your skin as he sucks on your clit - two rough fingers scissoring your tight hole. a fat glob of his spit trickles down your entrance, pooling under your ass as his tongue massages your insides.

“t-toji- fuuhck!”

he doesn’t respond. too focus on tasting as much of you as he could, shaking his head side to side as he makes out with your pretty pussy. his large hands grip your thighs open, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin, too gentle compared to the way he eats you out like a mad man. he can feel the way your legs quiver, cunt clenching rapidly on his tongue - your stomach tightening so good, locking eyes with your boyfriend as he looks up at you with smoky eyes from behind your mound.

he couldn’t stop, not even after you squirted that sweet juice all in his awaiting mouth, not after you begged so sweetly for him to slow down - hands weakly pushing his head away from your aching pussy. “move yer fuckin’ hands, baby. ‘s not my fault ya cunt’s all sweet, now let daddy enjoy his pretty girl’s pussy.”

toji didn’t like peaches. but if peaches taste like your pussy? well, he fucking loves them.

-This one is for my one and only true love Princess Peach

Peach, you're so cool And with my star, we're gonna rule Peach, understand I'm gonna love you 'til the very end

Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches I love you, oh Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches I love you, oh

Mario, Luigi, and a Donkey Kong too A thousand troops of Koopas couldn't keep me from you Princess Peach, at the end of the line I'll make you mine, oh

Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches, Peaches I love you, oh

Peaches, Peaches, Peach, Peach

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x black reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro smut #cheonstapes films!🪷#cheonstapes

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cainhart · 6 months ago

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My brief theories on hybrid psychology, biology, lifespan, historical connections to our world, and the possibility of other hybrids in the DMC world aside from the loser twins and Nero.

In Devil May Cry, being a hybrid is not exactly seen as a freak of nature but rather as something disgraceful on the demons' side. The reason for this is quite simple: humans are considered "food" for demons. Human blood is both literally and spiritually a fuel, an essential substance that feeds the demons. The fact that a demon has "disgraced" itself to the point of mating with "food" is a big deal among demons. A lot of Devil May Cry media comment on this—it's even directly said of Sparda that he "turned into a lustful monkey," because, in their eyes, humans are lustful monkeys. Worse, humans die very quickly; they're weak and fragile. You can imagine how much worse it is for demons, where power is everything.

As for humans, there is no canon information about their perspective that I know of. My theory is that some of the "demigods" and mythological figures mentioned in the history of the world are hybrids who were born on Earth before the separation of the two worlds, but that's a topic for another day. As far as we know, the hybrids that are on Earth right now are Dante, Vergil, Nero, and (probably) Matier.

What confuses me more is biology. Humans and demons are different species, even though they were once "one." And even devils differ from each other by looks, too. While Mundus looks like a human man, particularly Zeus, Sparda looks like a bug. Agrosax has both a female and a male body. But it looks like they can alter their looks and DNA enough to have a human-like body by using their demonic magic. And they can have hybrids, hybridity works strangely in humans and animals too.

In Homo sapiens-Neanderthal hybrids, only the female was fertile.

In the animal kingdom, female hybrids are usually fertile unless there is a direct biological problem.

This is a Mule. A hybrid born from a female horse and a male donkey. Female Mule can only breed with male horses. Male Mule are infertile.

This is a Hinny, born from a female donkey and a male horse. Both male and female ones are infertile.

Liger's are both thought to be unfertile, but like Mule's, female Liger's can breed with male lions, creating Liliger. Tigon females are fertile, but males are not. A female Tigon and a male tiger had bred and created Titigon.

The reason for this is Haldane's Rule. When I tried to apply it to demon-human hybrids, I came up with something quite funny: Vergil shouldn't have been able to have a child. The Sparda twins are supposed to be infertile. But if we replace this with demon fuckery, we get at least the following result:

Male hybrid: Can breed with human females. Cannot breed with demon females. Cannot breed with Hybrid females.

Female hybrid: Cannot breed with human males. Can breed with demon males. Cannot breed with Hybrid males. A sad day for people with Vergil/hybrid!Nero's mother OCs because hybrids are unable to breed and produce offspring. Probably. Their partial infertility isn’t the strange part—that’s expected. Hybrids are known to have accelerated healing, incredible strength, agility, speed—the list goes on. These are part of their demonic heritage. But the truly fascinating aspect is how it plays into their biology. The human body can't display even half the strength of hybrids unless adrenaline is involved. If humans could perform such actions, our muscles would tear, our bones would break, and our blood vessels would rupture. Not to mention the risk of brain hemorrhage, blood coming out of the eyes and ears, or even heart attacks. The reason hybrids don’t suffer from these conditions might be due to their superior healing abilities, but even that explanation only scratches the surface. It’s directly related to the fact that they are hybrids.

The reason why Dante and Vergil can fall or jump from great heights (with Vergil literally falling into hell and only fainting, and Dante jumping off a cliff in DMC4) and continue on as if nothing happened is perhaps due to the high ratio of collagen, protein, and hydroxyapatite in their bones. This trait likely begins developing in the womb, as their bodies produce an abundance of osteoblasts. However, it would be nearly impossible for human women to survive such pregnancies. The human body would struggle to provide the immense amount of nutrition a half-demon child requires, leading to either a miscarriage or the mother dying from malnutrition and exhaustion. This could explain why hybrids are so rare.

How Eva carried TWO hybrid babies remains a mystery, but Sparda was likely-no, surely highly active during and after the pregnancy. Otherwise, Eva would not have survived, since there are six hours between Vergil and Dante’s births.

I believe that if a hybrid woman ever became pregnant by a human male or a hybrid male, her pregnancy would be shorter. Since hybrids are not fully human, their bodies function in a way that's almost like Homo sapiens 2.0. Their growth factors would be insane: -Growth hormone would be highly elevated. -their IGF1 would be mutated, leading to significantly increased cell growth and development -mutated CDKs would regulate the cell cycle to promote faster cell division and growth. -placental efficiency would be enhanced, with Vascular Endothelial Growth Factor doubling the blood flow and nutrition supply. The cyncytin genes would also be more active. Anyway, you get the picture. Hybrid women could grow and pack a whole ass baby in about 4 months and call it a day. This process may be even faster in Devil Trigger form, but Hybrids can't hold their DT long enough. What bugs my mind is whether female hybrids would have periods. I think so? But the duration and intensity would likely differ from human women. One day I will write in-depth about female and male hybrid anatomy but for now, this is enough.

Another thing is, assuming hybrids are not easily cut or pierced by mundane weapons, their skin must produce high levels of keratin. Keratin is a protein that gives nails their hardness and forms the outer layer of the skin (epidermis). The calcification—the storage of calcium salts in the skin—must be high. At the same time, neither Dante, Nero, nor Vergil have any scars, acne scars, blackheads, or blemishes. Their skin heals perfectly, restoring itself to its original state. The white blood cells of hybrids must be working like crazy lol. To put it crudely, when they get a cut—or any wound, for that matter the white cells ring alarm bells and rush to close the wound. Blood clotting (hemostasis) begins, then cytokines are released and after that the bleeding stops, what follows is tissue formation (Proliferation). This happens in such a short time that it is hard to believe. At the same time, as I mentioned above, the high collagen and keratin ratios of hybrids also prevent scars. It's really strange.

Another thing is that hybrids have a highly developed sense of smell, hearing and sight. In DMC5, Dante could smell Urizen from quite a distance. And demons, even hybrids, have their own scent. According to Dante, it's not a nice smell. That's my guess, too. I think the sons of Sparda are fire-based demons, considering their devil trigger form (I don't know what to think of Nero because his DT form is very vague and very humanoid. But he still can be a fire-based demon, considering Sparda, Agrosax, and Berial are prolly fire-based demons but none look alike). Therefore, the smell of all three could be like burnt flesh or a sooty, weird grotesque smell which I like the idea of. This is probably the smell of their demon blood mixing with their human blood. The hybrids smell must differ from each other based on their type. We've seen demons from the four elements throughout the series, but I think there could be more concept-based demons, like ‘darkness’ because nobody knows where to put these demons, so they just call them darkness or void… things like that. Even though we humans are the same species, we can give ourselves different names to feel special, so it's not surprising.

Hybrids also have the ability to sense energy. This is something we humans possess as well since we live in an energy field and are always in touch with it, we can feel the energies around us. It’s the same for hybrids, but their ability to transfer and sense energy is far beyond what we can ever achieve. It’s canon that demonic energies can bring a hybrid’s demon side to the surface, calling and provoking it. In Deadly Fortune, when Yamato is fixed/healed by Nero, Dante feels a sudden and all-too-familiar demonic energy that unintentionally triggers his demonic side for a moment. This is Yamato’s call. Dante’s demon side is provoked by her and, inevitably, by Vergil’s energy because I wholeheartedly believe Yamato contains a part of Vergil’s soul. They are inbound.

Not much is known about how long hybrids live, but they do age, as we’ve seen with Dante and Matier. Interestingly, Matier lived long enough to meet Sparda. I think hybrids outlive humans, and an average lifespan of 300 years, like Tieflings. I’ll delve into the biological factors of this separately another time.

In the Devil May Cry anime, there’s an episode about a devil’s sincere love for a human. This kinda confirmed my belief that there MUST be other hybrids besides shit twins, Nero and Matier. People in love sometimes have sex, and if they want to, children are born as a result. However, based on what I mentioned earlier, I’m not sure how healthy the pregnancy would be.

The character themes are the best source for understanding the inner conflict a hybrid experiences. Their demon and human souls and blood clash with each other, fighting to see which will come out as the victor. This is evident even with Nero, which is interesting because he’s only about 15% demon, having a hybrid dad and a human mom. It’s weird because, physically, demon blood is dominant, but according to the lore, the human soul is superior. Nero has so little demon blood that he nearly lacks the demonic smell (Dante in Deadly Fortune and Malphas in Devil May Cry 5 comments about this). He’s more human than the twins—a very domestic boy. His psyche should be stronger than the twins.

Dante's theme songs, however, are understandable, he is a half-breed, a perfect balance of two opposite sides. We see that these demonic urges are directed toward other demons, but I’m curious about whether hybrids have any violent urges toward humans. They are half-demon, after all. Demons are the predators of humans—Sparda himself ate humans before he awoke to justice. We humans even have cannibalistic urges, thanks to female genome transaction, our time cannibalizing each other has scorched into our brains. Human blood is not just tasty to demons yet hybrids are not berserkers or lesser demons with zero intelligence. They have a brain and a human heart; I don’t see them openly fantasizing about mauling or eating people. But I’m pretty sure the smell of human blood would be appealing to them. It might be like smelling a barbecue and thinking, “Damn, that smells good.” But maybe it wouldn’t be enticing enough to make them attack or eat people. You wouldn't want to eat an alive cow while it stands there cowly, eating grass. You may even interact with it in a nonaggressive way. That’s how I think hybrids would act towards humans if they were in control. Yeah, IF. Returning to Sparda Kin’s theme songs, the inner conflict of a hybrid makes sense with what I’ve said earlier. When you lose control and your demonic side takes over, you essentially leave part of your human consciousness in the hands of an apex predator. In such moments, you could harm those you love or innocent people, or commit worse acts. In the Bible, Nephilim are said to eat humans. This is, of course, a biased point of view, assuming that Abrahamic religions derive their sources from ancient records. But these Nephilim (hybrids) are not all the same; they are all different from each other and this is proven by science, human hybrids and animal hybrids are always different. It is also said that Nephilim are immortal, but there is no explicit mention that they are truly immortal; they simply die. However, the existence of man-eating Nephilim might suggest that some hybrids would indeed have a desire to eat humans. By the way, Nephilim are directly related to our world and the DMC hybrid concept—giants. Hybrids result from the mating of Annunaki people left on Earth with humans.

And don't even get me started on the creepy similarity between the Annunaki legend and Sparda and Mundus. :l

Well, uhh, that's all. I didn't touch on everything I wanted to touch on, but this post would be too long if I let myself go. Have a good day!

#i wish i could examine a hybrid im so curious about them #i want it so BAD. they are so weird my teeth itches #dmc #devil may cry #vergil #dmc vergil #dante #dmc dante #nero #dmc nero #dmc headcanons #dmc meta

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literaila · 1 year ago

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Ur writing is great and all but can you write something where Peter is nicer?! I'm over here squirming like a donkey with a carrot dangled in its face and idk I wanna see Peter squirm for once

Ps. I literally inhaled all of ur blurbs in one sitting

dress

tasm!peter x fem!reader

a/n: actually i am physically incapable of making either one of them nice. it’s a character flaw

“peter,” you call, slipping some elaborate strap through shoes you know you’re going to regret later, but are far too good, too hot for now. “are you almost ready?”

last you heard, he’d been putting on his socks and just needed to grab his tie—which he had conviently forgot about.

but knowing peter, you’re not so sure.

you hear a grunt from the other room which means absolutely nothing, and, of course, everything.

“babe,” you whine, standing up to admire your leg for a moment, and then walking into the bedroom, click-clacking on your way. “we’re already fifteen minutes late.”

peter is standing in front of the mirror messing with his hair while his tie hangs loose from his neck. “ j’st one sec,” he mumbles, flipping his mop of a head to the other side like it’s going to fix anything.

“you know you’re supposed to tie that, right?”

“it’s in the name,” peter answers, rolling his eyes before they meet yours in the mirror, and widen every so slightly. “ouch,” he says, turning around you look at you.

“what?”

“that’s what you’re wearing?”

you look down to your dress; you’d been saving it for some special occasion, been waiting at least a year to pull it out from the back of the closet. it’s long and elegant, shows off just the right amount of skin, and is in peters favorite color (not that it matters).

you frown. “yes? is there something wrong with it?”

peter turns around again, clearing his throat. his hands reach for the ends of his tie, but he doesn’t do anything more. his eyes are on yours through the mirror. “nothing,” he says, while watching you.

but his voice is off and he’s still frozen, like he can’t move until you look away.

but you’re not going to back down first, obviously. he doesn’t get the win.

“no,” you say, walking to place a hand on the side of his waist. “what’s up?” you ask, leaning up so your whispering in his ear.

“it’s pretty.”

“then why do you look like i’ve just stolen your baby or something?”

peter shakes his head, and finally, he looks away. his hair gets more messy with every movement he makes. “i’m just nervous.”

“you’re nervous about a charity event that you volunteered both of us to go to?”

“i think the mayor might be there…” he mumbles, messing with the cuffs on his sleeves.

(it’s only slightly distracting)

you snort. “you literally asked the mayor for a fist bump on the news the other day.”

“hey,” peter says, tilting his chin up, “i didn’t do anything.”

“whatever, peter. what’s really going on?”

“i already told you.”

he’s messing with his tie again, but his hands are shaking a bit. and even though he’s pretending to wrap two ends around eachother, he’s not really doing anything at all. just mindlessly fidgeting.

you look at his face, brows furrowed. there’s a hint of pink on his cheeks, and when his eyes meet yours for just a split second, he’s flashing them away like he’s afraid that you’ll catch him.

you blink, frowning, and then you get it.

you smile at him, a bit cruelly.

“you’re nervous, huh?” you say, moving even closer to him. a hand falls on his shoulder, and the other plays with a loose strand of his hair. “this is a big event.”

“uh-huh.”

“i completely understand. who knows what might happen,” you whisper, faux pity in your voice. you turn so you’re facing him, pulling him towards you from the two ends of his tie. peter follows almost limp. “here,” you say, smiling at him, “let me help.”

you wrap the ends into a knot, not looking away from peters eyes for even one moment. you don’t think he’ll mind if his tie turns into a bow.

“you look really nice,” you tell him, whispering even though he’s the only one that can hear you. “i knew you’d look good in a suit.”

peter swallows. “you’ve seen me in one before.”

“mmm, this is different. i’ve never seen you put one on before.” a finger trails up his jaw, and you tilt your head at him.

“oh.”

you giggle, and finally look away, tightening the tie up to his neck. when it’s done you look up at him, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his chin. “there. good?”

peter clears his throat again and turns from your hands to look in the mirror. he straightens the tie, though clenches his fist before he can do it. he nods at you. “thanks.”

“anytime,” you tell him, moving away. you look in the mirror, playing with your hair. “do i look alright?”

peters head snaps towards you. “of course. you look great.”

“really? cause i wasn’t so sure about this dress…” you look down at it, a false pout on your lips.

“it’s beautiful.”

“are you sure, peter? because you kind of froze when i walked in, so… if there’s something wrong with it—“

“no,” peter interrupts. he spins you so your facing him. “it looks great. you look great.”

you sigh, and pull away the tiniest bit. “i guess i could still change, but we might be even later.”

“you don’t need to change,” peter says. his cheeks are even rosier now, and his eyes seem almost pained. but he doesn’t look away from your face.

“you cant even look at me, peter. you don’t need to lie.”

there’s a pause where you’re looking at peter—and even though your face is serious, your eyes are deadly. you want to watch him break. he’s looking back at you, eyes faltering, mouth opening and closing like he’s not quite sure what to say.

and then he shakes his head, sighing. “i cant look at you,” he admits, voice a bit harsh but quiet.

you tilt your head, “why not?”

“we’re already late.”

“what do you mean?”

peter hangs his head for a moment, laughing at the floor. then he looks back at you, and pulls you in by your waist. “if you want to leave any time tonight, then we can’t stand here any longer. i’m already going crazy.”

“why? are you okay?”

he scoffs at you. “c’mon, don’t tease.”

“i would never, peter.”

he rolls his eyes. “i know what you’re doing,” he whispers, leaving a peck on your nose. “and so do you.”

“i’m not doing—“

but he kisses you, rough like he’s been waiting to do it for years on end. his mouth his hot and his hands are desperate as they cling to your waist, your neck, keeping you from moving even a centimeter away from him.

you cant breathe when he kisses you like this, but it’s not completely necessary. you kiss him back with just as much fever, your fingers wrapping into his hair.

when he pulls away, he’s breathless and his eyes are dark. “we really have to go,” he says, voice raw.

you smile up at him, feeling just as breathless. “so you like the dress?”

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avionvadion · 4 months ago

Text

Eleanora Quince and Wynter Northcliffe, and- a third character to introduce- Veronica "Nico" Solaris.

Veronica was twisted from the princess in the tale of Donkey Skin, Wynter was twisted from Jack Frost, and for those who don't follow me... Eleanora is my Yuu OC.

Eleanora is paired with Malleus while Veronica will most likely be paired with Vil. Wynter just happens to be childhood friends with Jack, as his mother runs the ski resort where the Howl family likes to vacation and is in the same class with Silver. As of the moment, he is not paired with anyone. I just really wanted him to be a reoccurring character in the fic, lol. I was writing him in one of the newer chapters and went, "Huh. He could be neat." So I went and made a design and backstory for him.

Veronica's backstory is under the cut! As well as very mild Ignihyde spoilers.

It isn't as disturbing as the original tale that she's twisted from, but does have similar elements. The stars, moons, and sun earrings and clothing details were inspired by the three dresses the princess gets, as was the idea to make her eyes "as golden as the sun" and her disguise's hair color "silver like the moon". Her purple hair is supposed to resemble the night sky, hence the star-patterned scrunchy.

Her parents used to be good friends with Ambrose before their death, where her uncle took her in. Their family held powerful magic, but they were rather poor, and her uncle began searching for potential matches since many nobles have their eye on obtaining more powerful magic in their families.

This leads to one suitor being particularly stubborn (to the point of stalking and threatening) and she wishes more than anything to escape him.

One day, while cooking (something that comforts her) and lamenting the way her life had turned out, wishing she could run way, she suddenly awakens her Unique Magic, which allows her to completely disguise herself. She can disguise herself with this magic (though has to eat something she’s made once every 24 hours to keep up the disguise) and those who see her in her disguise can only ever clearly remember her golden eyes. Everything else about her is a blur. But if you know her true name, you can see and remember her clearly for as she truly is.

Veronica contacts Ambrose- who was listed as an emergency contact- and he agrees to hide her in RSA, provided she can keep up her disguise, as it was her parents' dying wish for him to help her should she ever be in trouble.

Unfortunately, the people in RSA are a little too... nice- and won't be willing to give her the help she needs as they'll be too hesitant or "kind" about approaching and dealing with the stalker. But then she finds out about the Overblots. During the Glorious Masquerade, she approaches Eleanora to try and win her to her side, as well as get her help in speaking to Headmaster Crowley about switching schools. She believes if she can befriend Eleanora, she can make use of Eleanora's powerful connections to get rid of the noble wanting to force her hand in marriage.

Because of her powerful magic, she eventually ends up sorted into Diasomnia.

After the events of VDC, she drops her disguise and attends school in earnest as Veronica and not "Nico", and goes with Rook and Epel to rescue the Overblot!Boys and Eleanora from Styx.

#twisted wonderland #twst #eleanora quince #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #wynter northcliffe #veronica solaris

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writersdrug · 1 year ago

Text

Ghost x Reader x Konig: I Don't Need You (Ch. 3)

<- Previous - Next ->

Summary: Price has a solution to end the fighting between you and Ghost - permanently.

Chapter Warnings: cursing

Notes: Aaand here's the next chapter. Things are about to get better(?) in the next few. Konig will appear soon, I promise. Ghost will be absent for a bit though. Might write some oneshots for him to keep yall happy in the meantime. But ch. 4 is in the works!!

(Y/N) (M/I) (L/N)

“BONNIE”

D.O.B. 10.22.94 / D.O.S. 10.22.13

Navy Seal, USSF / Sniper / Marksman

-----

Price had knocked on my door this morning, waking me up at an ungodly hour on my day off. “Come to my office at nine hundred. Don’t disappoint me.” He had said. He then walked off, leaving me in the doorway with a rats’ nest head of hair and puffy eyes from crying the night before. I stared into the hallway as I processed his words. Figures… throwing a knife at Ghost wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

I peered out beyond my doorframe, watching as Price stopped in front of Ghost’s door. It creaked open, words were exchanged briefly, and then Price moved on. There was a long pause before Ghost’s door slammed shut, followed by a bang as he punched the wall in his dorm.

What a child…

I looked back in front of me; Soap, whose dorm was adjacent to mine, was poking his head out. He winced mockingly. “Ouch… I think he didn’t like your assassination attempt, lass.” He mimicked me throwing my knife.

I stared at him for a moment, unamused. “Go fuck a donkey, Soap.” I barely caught a glimpse of his pout before I slammed my door shut.

-----

I got there at nine hundred on the dot, my hair still wet from my shower, and for the first time since I had met him, Price was the one who was late. Or rather, held up in his office by someone. But, nonetheless, his streak of punctuality was broken. A bad omen, for sure…

I listened, unintentionally, to the conversation in Price’s office. I heard him speaking with a man I heard called “Jax” – a higher-up, a therapist, someone from the “HR” of the military… I didn’t know who he was. But it appeared he would be deciding how Ghost and I would get reprimanded for the rift we were causing within the team.

“Bonnie?” said the unfamiliar voice. “Like Bonnie and Clyde?” followed by an affirmative grunt from Price. “Why?”

“She’s got looks, she’s small, but she’d blow your head open for the thrill of it. And you’d best believe she never misses, either.”

The unknown man paused, glancing over the file – my file, I could tell – and reading the details. “Sniper, marksman, Navy SEAL…“

Price huffed. “Stealth is her specialty. If her head is in the game, she’s a quick thinker, and an even quicker hitman – she once took out a whole checkpoint on her own. Killed ‘em all in less than a minute n’ a half, never even made a sound.”

The man whistled low in admiration. “How’d you get your hands on her?”

“Military couldn’t handle her attitude,” Price admitted, “but they didn’t want to waste the talent either. Bought her off of them before she could end up in the wrong hands.” He sounded smug.

“Leave it to you to pull an operations team out your ass, Price.”

“If it were that easy I’d have a lot more soldiers, Jax.”

The muffled lull of their conversation continued, and my mind refocused on what I had planned to say to Price. It was never supposed to be this messy. We both made a mistake, and a damn big one. We caused issues for the team, we were only thinking of ourselves… basically, share my side of the story, and admit and own up to it all. It was the truth, after all, as well as the best possible way to come out of Price’s office with my head and my job.

Of course, I’d leave out the part where Ghost insulted me – more than once. Or, where he was the one who started the fight in the hall. I mean, technically I did… but I was trying to right my wrong, he had no reason to go after me. Why did he do that? I suddenly realized that Ghost had been seeking out fights ever since a month ago. At first, we avoided each other, but he was the one who lurked around in places I frequented, just to single me out and argue.

That fucking prick.

The conversation in Price’s office ended, ended, and the door swung open. A tall, burly man stepped out: he looked down at me with scrutiny. I stared back. He chuckled.

I tilted my head up and narrowed my eyes. “Can I fucking help you?”

“I guess we’ll see.” He replied, before walking away with a smirk on his face. I scoffed in disgust just as Price stepped out of the office.

“C’mon in, Bonnie.” He stepped aside and gestured me into the office. I reluctantly stood, stretching my limbs and trying to seem unbothered, and entered. Price closed the door behind us. Feels like I’m a kid again in the principal’s office.

I took a seat in the chair facing his desk and immediately stared at the ground. I was hoping this was just going to be some stern, disciplinary lecture. Don’t let it happen again. Which I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t have lashed out at all, if Ghost hadn’t been pushing every single one of my buttons, when he was the one who created this whole landslide in the first place. Honestly if Ghost had just acted like nothing had ever even happened, like I was trying to do –

“- Bonnie, you with me?” Price said, snapping me back to the present. He was now sitting across from me and waving a hand in my direction.

I cleared my throat, doing a poor job at hiding my anxiety. “Yes sir.”

“Alright then. Let’s talk about it.”

I nodded. “Well, after the job in Mexico, maybe about a year – “

“Oh no, no…” Price cut me off with a shake of his head. “I don’t need a recap. I know everything that the two of you have been up to. The whole damn base does.”

I felt a shameful blush rise into my cheeks. If I had any confidence before walking into Price’s office, it was long gone by now. “Oh…” I mumbled.

“‘Oh’?” Price repeated. “Don’t tell me you actually thought you were goin’ under everyone’s nose, did you?” He tapped his pen on his desk with an irritated look. “Aren’t you supposed to be an ex Navy SEAL, here?”

I stared back at him, unamused and unphased by his comment. “Ok, so we may not have tried that hard to keep it a secret. But it was initially just a casual thing.”

Price nodded as he listened. “Initially… so what did it turn into? Because this – “ he gestured to me with a flourish of his pen, “ – is not from something casual.”

I couldn’t answer him. I averted my eyes to his desk, feeling his eyes burning into mine. Into my soul, trying to bring me to the breaking point. But if there was one thing I was perfect at, it was avoiding. So I let myself burn under his gaze, knowing the storm would eventually pass. One way or another.

Price sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Look, it happens. You throw a bunch of people in a room, deprive them for a few months, and stress them the hell out – they’re bound to make mistakes.”

There was that fucking word again.

“I won’t lie, I’ve been there myself.” Price continued, and I raised a curious eyebrow at him. He ignored it. “And I’m not going to try and prevent it, it’ll only muck things up more. But, when it causes such an issue that my entire team is suffering, something needs to be done. And clearly you and Ghost aren’t reaching any solutions.”

I chewed my lip, leaning my elbows on my knees and anxiously bouncing my knee. I wanted to jump in and tell him my side of the story. I knew for a fact that Price had let Ghost spill his guts on the subject. He always listened to him no matter what. I wanted to explain why I was angry, exactly what Ghost had said and how I had felt – but I know he wouldn’t listen. Not to mention, it would have been extremely personal.

“So, going off of that –“ Price reached across his desk and grabbed a pile of papers, “ – I found a solution for the both of you.”

I sighed. Therapy, workplace relationship, probably anger management for me… Honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he suggested one of us moves to the other side of the barracks –

“That man out there? ‘Jax’. Director of a private military group, just like us.” He flopped the papers on the desk in front of me. I hesitated, looking at Price with confusion, to which he tilted his heads towards the papers. “Take a look.”

I sighed and grabbed the documents. He’s got to be so fucking dramatic, doesn’t he. I scanned the first page: Major August Jax, a very decorated ex-marine. Served two terms, now owns a private military special operations force. Based in Arizona, mostly deals with hostage situations –

“I’m sorry,” I toss the papers back onto the desk. “Why am I reading this?” I asked, my tone a little too angry. It gave away that I knew exactly what Price was thinking, feigning innocence just to push it away a moment longer.

“Jax’s got a good team on his hands.” Price began. He wouldn’t look at me. I leaned forward and glared into his eyes, daring him to look back. Fucking look at me when you throw me out the window, Price.

“He’s always looking for the best soldiers to add to his group. We got wind that he’d been asking around for a marksman. I offered him you.” He paused, noticing the hurt and anger building in my expression. “You’re a good soldier, Bonnie. I would only recommend you to the best team out there. And I might not even have half a mind to do this, if it wasn’t for the situation at hand, between you n’ Ghost.” His face showed compassion, although I felt none of it. It was a façade.

Instead, I felt betrayed. Maybe I did deserve some sort of reprimand for the way I’d been acting, but this felt like a banishment. That’s exactly what it was.

“You’re kicking me off the team?”

Price sighed, facing the dreaded conversation ahead. “This is a reassignment, I’m not- “

“You’re getting rid of me.”

“You’re making this seem much worse than it is.”

“How much did he pay you for me, huh?”

“Bonnie.” Price warned. Watch yourself, now. I was treading awfully close to the edge of the knife here, but I knew he had received some sort of payment or trade for me.

I sank into the back of my chair and huffed, folding my arms over my chest. “So Ghost gets a slap on the wrist. I get sent away.” I looked away from Pierce’s stern gaze and chewed my lip. The anger was quickly boiling over. “Like a fucking dog.”

“Ghost will get his dues.” Price said. “You both were causing issues for the team, now you’re both cleaning your mess up.”

I looked back at Price, taking a moment to glower at him. “Then why does he get to stay?” I said.

Price faltered, searching for the right words. “Ghost is a lieutenant, and he’s an important member of the team.”

I scoffed. “Wow, thanks…”

“- and…” he continued, “… because he’s been a part of this team for so long, he’s essential to it. He’s a leader for the 141, and I’d be ripping the group apart if he was the one goin’.”

“I’m waiting to hear how you somehow avoid insulting me in this next part.” I sent him a glare full of daggers.

“You’re not making this easy, girl.” Price leaned back in his chair. He was unphased by my anger; one of the few who were. “You’re a wild card: you’re a damn good shot, and your wit has gotten our missions through on the better side of things, more than once. But no one outside of our team knows that. You’re good at your game, but you don’t stand out – to the enemy, anyways.”

There was a pause in the conversation as Price let me process his words. They scraped the inside of my mind like burning daggers. Why is this such an easy decision for him to make? Did he decide this last night? Or in the last few days? Looking into Price’s eyes, I felt humiliated. Like I was never as important to him or the team as he made me feel. And it felt heartbreaking, watching his unreadable expression behind his locked fingers.

“Sir, I’m not a fucking baseball card.”

“No, you’re not.” He replied. “But it’s easier for you to move teams. No one knows what you’ve been involved in, because you managed to stay under everyone’s radar. And I salute you for that – it takes a lot of skill.”

His words weren’t convincing. They felt like colorful ribbons tied around a pile of trash. I huffed. “You’re a load of horseshit, you know that?” My anger clouded my judgement as I spoke, forgetting that Price was my superior.

He sighed, seeming to fight some internal war. “Jesus, y/n, I don’t want this anymore than you do. But you know this is how it has to be.”

“Is it?!” I raised my voice (something Price seemed to fully expect, as he remained unbothered). “No – you know what? You’re right.” I got up out of my seat, walking to the far corner of the room, pacing in small circles. “Ship me off to whoever gives you the most money, why don’t you? It’s not like I was a part of the team just as much as he is. But whatever, keep your happy little group together, right? Keep your favorites and to hell with everyone else, huh? I don’t care. I don’t fucking care anymore. I just want to get the fuck away from you all, so maybe you’re onto something, John.”

Price leaned forward in his chair, looking at me with stern eyes. He made it clear that I was dangerously close to crossing a line, if I hadn’t already. “You listen hear and you listen good, alright? We do dirty work in an even dirtier world for people who don’t deserve shit. I run things smoothly by having a team that respects one another. They know they have each other’s backs out there. They work together. You’d best be very careful with what you say about how I operate my team. Now you n’ Ghost have been causing way too much trouble for way too long. It’s been affecting the whole team, and the two of you have been so selfish that you can’t even notice. You in particular have completely lost yourself to your emotions. It’s my job to make sure that my division stays in-tact and on top of their shit. And you bet that the moment I see a flame threatening to burn all that down – I snuff it out. In whichever way gets it done.”

I’d never seen Price so angry before. At least, not with me. Knowing that I had disappointed him – and was currently doing that – felt worse than a bullet to the chest. Price had saved my ass when I was about to be dumped in a military prison; I respected him for that and was forever thankful. So, when I realized how I had just disrespected him, a hint of shame tugged at my mind.

But I forced it down. He was uprooting my entire life from the past ten years and expecting me to ‘take one for the team’. Maybe I hadn’t done as much for everyone as he had done for us, but he said it himself all the time: “Your skills are unmatched.” “We would’ve had a lot more losses without you out there.” “You’re essential for a smooth mission, Bonnie.” The only reason he was doing this was because Ghost had probably talked him up about it. Ghost could really be manipulative when he wanted to… but this still hurt. It still made my blood boil, thinking that Price was so quick to get rid of me, like I was a weed in his garden.

“So that’s it.” I said, defeated, the sting of tears threatening to fall. There was no coming back from this. “I’m out.”

Price nodded, his lips pressed into a tight line. “Afraid so.” He said curtly. He’d had enough of trying to sugarcoat things. I could tell he just wanted me to skip to the acceptance stage and start packing my bags.

I blankly stared at him. I felt my body slump as the realization finally hit. I felt the need to say something, anything, but nothing worth saying came to mind. Instead I looked at Price, sitting behind his desk, hands folded as he watched me process it all. A sudden anger flooded my veins. This is just another transaction for him. He would have done this for any situation. I narrowed my eyes as my mind was brimming with rage.

Price could tell I was getting worked up again. He sighed in annoyance, glancing at the paperwork on his desk. “Look, girl, it’s all said and done. Best you start packing your things tonight, get some sleep before you leave tomorrow.”

Like a weed. Like a thorn in his side. My breaking point had been reached. Crushed. I was back at the bottom of the ladder, where I started out with the 141.

“You know what, sir… “ I leaned over the back of my chair, placing my hands on the arm rests and glowering at Price. “… respectfully- “

“Bonnie-“ he warned, but I didn’t care.

“ -fuck you.” I shoved my finger indignantly in his face, then immediately turned on my heels. I punched open the doors to his office, feeling the buzz of my anger radiate off of me.

Price doesn’t say anything as I storm off. He doesn’t have to. The decision has been made – I could shout and curse and fight all I wanted, but I was being taken off of the team, whether they had to handcuff me and drag me out or not. I felt humiliated realizing that the whole base would be able to guess what happened, and why. I knew that Ghost wouldn’t dare open his mouth about it – but he wouldn’t stop the rumors, either. Price wouldn’t even care.

Fucking push-over. Of course he chooses Ghost. Two peas in a fucking pod, they are.

-----

I didn’t sleep. I had packed everything – my clothes, personal files, knives, and whatever else I cared to call mine – in less than an hour and in three duffel bags, which were now piled by my door. I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at them. My head was empty, unable to process a single thought or emotion. I was spent from my conversation with Price. I didn’t cry after, like I usually did when I fought with Ghost. At least that will be over. I tried to think optimistically, but it was hard. It was hard to think at all. The hours ticked by like minutes as I waited for the dawn to break.

Finally, at seven hundred and nine hours, a knock rapped against the door. I knew who it was. I stood up and swiftly grabbed my bags, opening the door – Jax stood there, a proud smile on his face.

“You said all your goodbyes?” he asked.

“Yep.” I lied. I hadn’t said anything to anyone after leaving Price’s office.

“Great. Let’s get moving, then.” He grabbed one of my bags from me, throwing it over his shoulder. “I’ll give you a hand, young lady.”

Already, I could feel myself hating the reassignment. Already, Jax was treating me like a fragile, sensitive girl. To be fair, the 141 did at first, but they had grown to see me as the skill and potential that I am. An independent soldier. I didn’t want to start over and try to prove myself to a new team. No use crying over it now.

I followed Jax, passing Soap as he stood leaned in his doorway, looking melancholic. I looked back, emotionless. I would miss him. He was one of the only people I would miss at this point, after what had gone down. He was always there to listen, and either offer solutions, or just let me vent. Whichever I needed, he provided. Losing him was going to hurt the most.

But I wasn’t going to let it. I turned my head from him and kept moving.I saw that it looked like Soap wanted to say something. I ignored it.

Beth and Skyline weren’t there. Neither were Gaz or Price. I knew Ghost was somewhere, lurking from the sidelines as I loaded my bags onto a heli. But I didn’t care. I did, but I didn’t let myself look back. If I did I would be in shambles, realizing how much I needed this place and the people here. I felt like a tree being torn out of the ground, roots hanging in the air, searching for a place to ground myself. As long as I didn’t look back, as long as I pushed back the pain and the loneliness, the voice in my head screaming for me to get closure, to say goodbye and get one final look – I would be fine. Or at least, it wouldn’t hurt as much.

I slapped a headset over my ears, sliding into the back of the heli. Jax and an unfamiliar soldier sat in the front as we prepared to take off. “Where are we headed?!” I asked over the deafening sound of the spinning blades. I ignored the sickening feeling of loss that ebbed in the back of my mind.

“Didn’t you read the file from Price?!” Jax turned and looked at me through his dark sun glasses, a smirk resting on his lips. “We’re going to Czech Slovakia!!”

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