#HE BE RUNNING AROUND TOWN!!!! AND THEY SPEAK OF HIM!!!!!!! they speak of MY boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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RUMOURS ABOUT MY BOY!!!
#HIS LITTLE ADVENTURES!!!#HE BE RUNNING AROUND TOWN!!!! AND THEY SPEAK OF HIM!!!!!!! they speak of MY boy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#aww he8s BLUSHIGN NWO DVDKSHFJDFKSSHJFGJWHIDHIDHJFHJFHSID#live blogging ispen’s holometabolism
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For a few weeks, Claudia thinks that she’s collecting her son from the hospital after he’s visited Max Mayfield.
Then she finds out that’s only partly the truth.
Usually Dustin’s already waiting in the parking lot for her, Steve by his side. They chat, Steve insisting that he could drive Dustin home, it’s no trouble, and Claudia thanks him for the offer, kindly refuses; the poor boy looks run ragged these days.
One day neither of them are there, so she heads inside. There’s still a long line at reception, the aftermath of the earthquake, so she finds a nurse in a corridor, describes Dustin—my boy, about this high, curly hair (smiles like the sun, she wants to add)—and the nurse smiles, says, “Follow me, ma’am.”
She has a passing thought that this isn’t the direction to Max’s room, but reasons that she must’ve been moved. The nurse leaves her at the door before being called away.
Claudia opens the door quietly.
It’s not Max who’s in the bed.
She recognises him from the posters—his eyes first, then his long hair. He’s holding a battered copy of The Hobbit, the spine broken, and he’s reading so softly that she can’t quite make out the words.
And there, lying so peacefully against Eddie Munson’s shoulder, is Dustin. He’s fast asleep.
Eddie’s got an arm around him, and he’s slowly running his fingers through Dustin’s hair the way she used to when he was little, to help him drift off.
He looks up from his book at the sound of her entering the room, and his face goes as white as the bedsheets.
She takes one step forward.
Eddie inhales, breath stuttering, and it’s a fragile, heartbreaking sound.
Dustin stirs. “Hmm? Wha’s wrong?” He lifts his head up from Eddie’s shoulder, and his eyes meet Claudia’s, and he’s suddenly wide awake, scrabbling upright. “Mom.”
Eddie’s mouth keeps moving, like he’s desperately searching for words. “I-I’m not—” His breathing catches again, eyes wide; Claudia realises, with a heavy heart, that he’s deeply afraid of her. “It’s just a stupid board game, I swear.”
“Mom,” Dustin says again. Pleading.
And of course, Claudia never once believed the frenzied cries about Satanic rituals. Still, throughout that awful Spring Break, knowing that her son was lying to her, all she could think was that she was once a teenager, too—remembered how easy it could be to get caught up in something scary, something beyond your control.
She looks into Eddie Munson’s eyes, and knows deep in her bones that she has nothing to fear from him.
She beckons Dustin over, hands him the car keys.
“There’s a pillow on your seat, hon,” she says softly, because there’s a sleepy haze returning to his eyes despite his obvious concern for Eddie.
Dustin blinks, so unsure.
She smiles reassuringly. It’s okay. I promise.
“Okay,” Dustin says slowly, and he looks back at Eddie, raising his eyebrows like he wants to convince him of something. “See you tomorrow, Eddie.”
Eddie nods, but doesn’t speak.
He lifts his hand in a weak wave as Dustin leaves. It’s shaking.
Claudia sits down by the bed. Puts her hand in his.
Eddie stares at her.
“I’m so sorry,” she says. “I’m so sorry for what we did to you.”
Eddie shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “You didn’t—” He clears his throat. “It wasn’t you.”
Claudia shakes her head, too, slowly—prays that he can really hear this. “No, no, please. Listen to me. I’m so sorry.”
It would be an easy thing to say, that the town of Hawkins wronged Eddie Munson. But that would make it sound so impersonal: like it was inevitable, just one of these tragic things that happened, nothing to be done about it. Like earthquakes.
But that wasn’t true. People were behind this, and Claudia knows that they are all the town, every single one of them. And what did it say about them, that the fear and mistrust and cruelty spread like wildfire? That not one adult in the town hall stood up, begged people to stop, to think again?
“Th-thank you,” Eddie says. It sounds so uncertain, almost like a question.
Claudia squeezes his hand. “You were with Dustin, weren’t you?” she asks. “When the earthquake…”
His hand is shaking again.
“Yes,” he whispers. “I-I’m sorry, I—” He swallows. “I didn’t want a-anything to happen to him.”
“Oh, honey.” She reaches out cautiously, and when he doesn’t freeze up, she cups his cheek; her heart breaks at the rough indent of a scar beneath her palm. “You’re not God.”
Eddie reaches up, pressing her hand further against his cheek. He’s crying.
Claudia wipes his tears away as much as she can. She keeps up a steady murmur: “Shh, shh. I know you kept him as safe as you could. I know, I know. Shh.”
When he starts to calm, she thanks him again, but for something lighter.
“Dusty… he was so nervous, starting high school. But his first day, when I picked him up, all he could talk about was getting invited to have lunch with… well, a club.” Claudia smiles. “Oh, he was talking a mile a minute, I could hardly keep up. But I… oh, Eddie, I understand now. That was you.”
Eddie grins back. His cheeks are still wet.
“I didn’t do much,” he says. “You’ve…” For a moment, his eyes fill up again, but they look like happy tears. “You’ve got some kid, Mrs Henderson. He’s—he’s a real gem.”
She laughs. “Oh, I know.”
It’s one of the many things she loves about Dustin: that he’s always been so unashamedly, so joyously himself.
And Eddie had clearly seen that in him, had taken him in and nurtured everything that made him so.
The door abruptly slams open.
Steve’s in the doorway; he must’ve been running, is still gasping for breath as he says, panicked, “Claudia, I can—”
“Steve,” Eddie says softly, and that’s all.
But it’s clearly enough, because Steve’s shoulders drop in relief, and then he’s shutting the door, coming to Eddie’s bedside like he belongs there, and Eddie’s smiling at him, so tenderly…
And oh, she was young, once. She knows what she’s looking at.
Of course, she doesn’t mention it, can still sense some residual anxiety radiating from them.
Instead she looks around the room, spots a pile of laundry in the corner. It’s been stuffed into a bag; she recognises that as belonging to Steve, but there’s some shirts in there that are definitely Eddie’s, entwined with Steve’s things.
She stands, but before she can even pick up the bag, it seems like Steve’s read her mind, because he’s stepping forward, stopping her with a touch to her forearm.
“Oh, you don’t have to—I’m taking care of it, Claudia.”
She pats his cheek, lingers there until he smiles. “I know, sweetheart. But… would you let me? It’s the least I can do.”
Eddie reaches up from the bed, squeezes Steve’s elbow. Steve sighs, briefly leaning into him.
“Okay,” he says. “That’s… thank you.”
“As long as you do one thing for me.”
“Of course,” Steve says immediately. “Anything.”
Claudia brings out a notepad and pen from her bag. “Write me a list? Anything you’d like, I’ll be shopping anyway.” She looks Steve in the eyes, adds firmly but with a smile, “It’s no trouble.”
Steve takes the notepad, twirls the pen hesitantly.
“Anything you’d like,” Claudia repeats. She glances at Eddie, says, “You know, if you want a different shampoo than what they have here, things like that, or—”
“Oh, uh, it’s okay,” Eddie says quickly. “Whatever’s on sale is—”
“I know, honey,” Claudia says patiently, “but what would you actually like?”
The last extended hospital stay she’d had was fifteen years ago; Dustin had been a preemie, and one of the few things that kept her calm was the familiar: scents, food, people…
Steve chuckles. “I’ve got it.” He writes on the notepad, and Eddie must be able to read it, because he suddenly turns a little pink.
“How did you know that?”
Steve shrugs, smiles. “I notice things.” He writes down just a couple more things, then hands the list back. “Thank you so much, Claudia.”
“Any time, sweetie, I mean it.” She hugs Steve goodbye, then reaches one last time for Eddie’s hand on the bedspread. “It was lovely to meet you, Eddie. Hope you can go home soon.”
“Yeah, me—me too. Thank you, Mrs Hend—” Steve squeezes Eddie’s shoulder, and Eddie stops. Smiles. “Thank you, Claudia.”
She looks back once to shut the door behind her. Steve’s pulling up a chair, as close as he can get, and as the door closes, she hears him tut softly, gently swiping at the remaining trail of tears on Eddie’s face: “Hey, what—?”
They look like they belong together. Dustin’s boys.
Dustin’s asleep in the car, pillow pressed against the window. Claudia puts the bag of laundry in the trunk before quietly slipping into her seat.
Dustin wakes anyway as they drive out of the parking lot. “Eddie… okay?”
“He is, honey. Steve’s with him.”
“Mm… good.” There’s a pause, and Claudia thinks he’s fallen asleep again, but then he says, tentative, “Mom?”
“Yes, Dusty?”
“If I tell you something… d’you promise to keep it private?”
“As long as it’s not hurting anyone.”
“It’s not,” Dustin says firmly. “Um. Steve and Eddie, I think… I think they’re…”
Claudia smiles, nods encouragingly. “Oh, that’s lovely.”
Dustin hums in agreement. “They’ve not told me. Did I… do something wrong?”
“No, baby. You just keep doing what you’re doing.” Claudia feels a lump in her throat. “You’re a good friend.”
Dustin makes an uncertain noise.
“You are, baby. They love you very much, you know that, right?”
“Yeah.” Dustin sighs. “I know.” His eyes are closing.
“Sorry, baby, just before you sleep—are there any candies Steve and Eddie like?”
Dustin nods. “Eddie likes anything sweet. An’ Steve…” He yawns. “Anything w’peanut butter.”
“Great. Thank you, honey.”
Dustin’s already asleep.
Claudia knows that even with what she’s learned today, she still only has half a story, if that. That there’s something more to Dustin’s exhaustion, to just how Eddie ended up in a hospital bed.
Today, she’ll do all she can. It’s not a lot, but it’s something. Laundry and shopping, reading the brand of shampoo Steve wrote with a careful eye. She’ll fill her cart up with treats, things that won’t solve anything; they might make staying in that hospital room just a little easier, though. Make it feel a little warmer, a little more like home.
But first, she’ll take her boy home; she’ll park the car as close to the front door as she can get, and when he doesn’t stir, she’ll run a hand through his hair, gently put him to bed.
#one line from my current Dustin fic wouldn’t leave me alone & then this happened ❤️#claudia henderson fic#eddie and dustin#dustin and claudia henderson#henderfam#steve and dustin#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steddie#eddie and claudia#steve and claudia#claudia henderson#dustin henderson#eddie munson#steve harrington#steve x eddie
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Hi lovely! As a fellow bisexual id love to see something about reader maybe coming out as bi to Joost or maybe reader runs into her ex gf while with him? Or something totally else! Only if you’re comfortable ofc 🩷🫶🏻
I never claimed to be sane, so here is another request today! This one admittedly took a little longer, I got sucked into the story lol
LOVE ME SOME BISEXUAL Y/N! Hell yeah!
Enjoy!
Cool | Joost Klein x fem!reader
Summary: It was hot, and it was glorious, just the two of them in a country of which language they didn’t speak, people they didn’t know and fucks they didn’t give.
And in this suburban, secluded town they have specifically chosen to not run into any people they may know, or ones who may know him, they ran into her.
Word count: 1997 (the clownery)
WARNINGS: swearing (it's a given with me, I'm Polish), degrading and not in a fun way, angst, hurt/comfort, talk of sexuality <- YELL AT ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING, thx <3
Author's note: it is very strictly a female reader in here, again, sorry to disappoint folks. But I have one request for a bromance turned romance in my inbox so stay tuned!
Not proof-read, sorry
‘Oh my God, Y/N? Long time no see!’ a high voice shrieked in the distance. The girl in question startled, looking around to find whoever was calling her name.
Her and her boyfriend, Joost, were currently on vacation. The Italian breeze was lightly blowing, more often than not tangling her hair and making her huff. The boy next to her always giggled, took the strands out of her mouth and kissed her nose, finding the whole shebang to be insanely cute and ridiculous.
‘Serves you right for having such long hair’ he would chuckle, elbowing her jokingly in the side. And she would pout and punch his bicep, sticking her tongue out at him.
‘Har har, fuck you’ she muttered once, making him laugh in a loud, raspy belly laugh.
And it was amazing, the vacation of their dreams to be frank. They took a week off, packed their suitcase (yes, singular, luggage fares are simply too high to bother) and embarked on a journey to some small, suburban town in the south of Italy. He wore linen shirts and his wife-beaters, she wore floral dresses and thin shorts, both of their bodies glistening with sweat. It was hot, and it was glorious, just the two of them in a country of which language they didn’t speak, people they didn’t know and fucks they didn’t give.
And in this suburban, secluded town they have specifically chosen to not run into any people they may know, or ones who may know him, they ran into her.
Y/N recognized her in a second, the pixie cut, the floral shirt, the bisexual disaster of a girl with a big smile plastered on her face. And she looked good, damn her. A thin sheen of sweat making her face glow, and not look like a sweaty monster, her legs looked long and slender in her cutoff denim shorts and her arms were littered with tattoos, even more so than when they were together.
Mhm, yup, that’s the kicker. Here Y/N was, on a wonderful vacation with her hotter-than-hell (famous!) boyfriend and who did she meet? Her ex-girlfriend. Yummy.
Joost cocked his brow and squeezed Y/N’s hand, silently asking if she’s okay.
‘Oh, Vee, hi!’ Y/N replied to the girl, ignoring her boyfriend’s question. Of course she wasn’t fine, the nerve of him. She took a deep breath and tugged Joost along to the other one, meeting her halfway.
‘Oh my god, it’s been too long! You look… nice!’ the other woman exclaimed, eyeing Y/N from head to toe. A crimson blush was biting Y/N’s cheeks, making her roll her eyes.
‘Yeah, sure, same to you’ she replied. ‘Oh, um, Joost, this is Vee. Vee, meet Joost, my boyfriend’ she introduced the two, waving her hand between them.
‘Hi’ the boy murmured, not entirely rudely, but off-kilter. She chanced a look at him and saw him scanning the other girl from over the rim of his sunglasses.
See, Joost didn’t like Vee. She seemed fake from the very first sentence she uttered to the both of them, her smile never quite reaching her eyes and said eyes sharp and calculating, rather than warm like her voice would suggest. And he saw how his girl’s shoulders slumped, how her mouth was just slightly downturned, how she didn’t answer his question before.
So he stood a little taller with his back straight and chest puffed, not so much that it would look silly, but just slightly.
Meanwhile in Y/N’s head there was nothing but the, seemingly looped, word “shit”. And for a good reason, because Vee was trouble and Joost was sunshine and she hated those two worlds colliding.
‘Oh, a boyfriend, huh? That’s sweet, Y/N, you finally stopped fooling yourself?’ she asked, feigned kindness lacing her voice. She giggled and shot her a wink, turning to the boy next. ‘Do I know you from somewhere? You seem familiar’ she inquired; her eyes squeezed as if she was looking at sun itself.
And in Y/N’s eyes she might as well have because the boy meant so much too him, and he picked up on her nervousness the second Vee appeared. And her heart was beating to the beat of techno music, pumping so much blood through her veins she felt lightheaded.
But Joost, sweet, kind, lovely Joost, just shot Vee a long look took a step to be in front of Y/N. Nothing too big, not like the teen dramas on Netflix or a dick measuring context, no. Just playing it off as casual while they both knew he was trying to make her feel safer. Bless his soul, he had no idea who Vee was, didn’t even suspect that it could have been Y/N’s ex-girlfriend. How could he, anyway, when she has never made it known to him that she was bisexual.
And it wasn’t for the lack of trying, she wanted him to know who she was. Ha, she yearned for his acceptance and to be able to share this part of herself with him, but she couldn’t. No, not really.
‘I don’t think we’ve met’ Joost answered nonchalantly. And his voice seemed to do something to Vee, you could almost see the information clicking in place as she raised her brows in disbelief and let out a low chuckle.
‘Shit, you’re the guy from Eurovision, aren’t you? The “Friesenjung” one?’ she exclaimed, smiling broadly at him. ‘Oh I love your music, man! I had no idea you were dating little Y/N over here, she never mentioned it!’ she exclaimed gleefully. And that dig didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N, she knew what she wanted to imply, but she couldn’t find the words to disagree, to say that they haven’t talked in years, how could she have mentioned it?!
‘You must not be really good friends, then’ he shrugged, putting his arms over Y/N’s trembling arms and soothing her with his presence. He started to rub his thumb up and down her arm, almost as if saying “I’m here, you’re fine”. And it helped, it really did.
‘Oh we were very good friends until little miss “my-new-boyfriend-is-famous” didn’t dump me for, seemingly, fame’ Vee rolled her eyes, winking at Joost. ‘She’s like that, you get it, a little sleazy and conniving.’
‘I think that’s enough’ the man interrupted, his face stern and lips pulled into two thin lines. ‘Go and spew your venom somewhere else, we’re not interested.’
And so he turned on his heel, dragging Y/N’s dumbfounded body with him, not even looking back at the girl. They took a turn, then another and only after a few minutes of walking in silence did Joost loosen his hold on her shoulders, steering the girl towards a bench.
It felt as if she was sitting next to the loudspeaker for a little too long, the ringing in her ears persistent, her mouth dry and hands shaking where he held them in his lap. Neither of them said a word, both just leaning against each other and people-watching.
They often did that when one of them was overwhelmed. Back home they could just climb the roof of their house and sit there, hidden behind trees that grew closely together, but not too closely so that they could still look at people walking around. They would play a game where they would guess what someone is thinking about, laughing if it sounded a little too close to this one dialogue from “Twilight” and holding hands. Sometimes they didn’t speak, just existed together in silence disrupted only by honking cars or laughing children.
And here in Italy they didn’t have their own place, but the bench would do. It was a little further away from the trail, between two bushes and under a lovely tree with colorful flowers. So they sat there, their hands clasped together, her forehead resting on his shoulder. And he would sometimes hum a tune, and she would pick it up and so the minutes passed.
Sometime later she stirred, almost like waking up from a bad dream. She opened her eyes and raised her head slowly, her eyes glistening and cheeks red.
‘So, um, that was Vee’ she muttered, laughing hoarsely and looking out into the horizon.
‘Delightful persona’ he answered, squeezing her hand again. Their palms were sweaty but it was okay, he would always hold her hand when she needed it.
‘Tell me about it’ Y/N sighed, rubbing her forehead with her free hand. ‘It’s my ex-girlfriend’ she whispered, looking into the opposite direction, too scared of what might happen next.
And Joost just stared at her, his face blank and a million thoughts racing through his head. Okay, it made sense, there was some weird tension between the two women, but he wouldn’t have guessed that they used to be a thing. Hell, Y/N never mentioned to him that she was bisexual, he didn’t really expect it.
‘Oh?’ he hummed, tugging her a little closer. He could feel the tension seeping from her, clogging her pores and presumably giving her a headache. ‘Hey pretty girl, look at me’ he whispered again, reaching out to grab her chin and make her look at him. Her eyes were squeezed shut but she went with the movement. ‘Y/N, honey, breathe please’ he reminded her and she took a big gulp of fresh air.
‘Sorry’ she muttered. She didn’t know if she was more sorry for the situation or for hiding such significant part of herself from him. ‘It’s, uh, complicated’
‘I gathered that, yeah’ he said, leaning down to kiss her knuckles. She sighed deeply and opened her eyes. There he was, smiling down at her, his sunglasses raised to sit on the top of his head, leaving behind red marks on his nose. He was smiling softly at her, his eyes earnest. ‘You don’t have to say anything that you don’t want to say just because that happened. We can go grab some food and pig out on it in bed. Or I can buy you one of those overpriced coffees with enough sugar in it to kill a horse?’ he offered, making her chuckle wetly.
And God, how was he so perfect? So loving and understanding, no raised voices, no judgement in his voice. She heaved out a long breath and turned to him.
‘I’m bisexual, Joost’ she admitted. She looked like a spooked animal, her eyes scanning his face, legs ready to run if things turned ugly.
‘Cool’ he answered, smiling down at her. ‘Thank you for telling me’ he added after a heartbeat and kissed her sweaty forehead. Y/N raised her eyebrows at him in disbelief.
‘You’re welcome?’ her voice was high, a nervous giggle making its way out of her mouth. ‘That’s it? You don’t think I’m, what, faking it?’
‘Why the hell would I think that?’ he asked, amusement in his voice.
‘That’s what Vee thought’ she shrugged, looking away yet again. And that just simply wouldn’t do, so he once again reached out for her, but this time put his hand on her cheek and slowly turned her back to him.
‘Well, as we have established, Vee is an idiot’.
And then he kissed her sweetly, pecking her lips and pulling her to his chest. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes with a fruity undertone of a slushie he has spilled on himself earlier that day.
Y/N chuckled and shook her head, her worries melting away with just one kiss. She felt so foolish, of course Joost wouldn’t agree with Vee.
He was her sunshine, he shone just for her and that was final, bisexual or not. So they stood up, fingers laced and cheeks wet, not only from the heat this time, heading towards some restaurant he quickly found on Google.
A few hours later they laid in bed, legs intertwined, chests pressed closely together with her head in the crook of his neck when he whispered:
‘We can talk about boobs now’.
#joost klein#justice for joost#eurovision#esc 2024#joost klein x you#joost klein x reader#joostice#joost klein angst#joost klein fluff#hurt/comfort
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electric touch - eddie munson x reader
summary: eddie hasn't had much luck with dates - not until you.
warnings: ppl being mean to eddie (only for a little bit!) and some discussion on eddie's penchant for kinda being used by the popular girls but there's so much fluff and some kissing at the end
word count: 2.8k
a/n: i started this when speak now tv came out and then completely abandoned it but she's my little brain child
When Eddie was in eighth grade, he spent a week rehearsing the best way to ask a girl out on a date. He practiced in the mirror every day, making sure to sound hopeful, but not desperate, eager, but not pushy. He’d almost given up and asked his Uncle for advice, but in case it didn’t go the way he wanted it to, he didn’t want Wayne to be waiting for an update.
There was a new horror movie premiering in the theater downtown, and he’d heard that scary movies were the best to bring a girl to - because if she got scared, Eddie could put his arm around her and protect her from the fictional monsters.
He never even got the chance to ask her. He’d tried, to be sure. Monday morning of the next week, when he’d worked up enough nerve, he walked up to the group of cheerleaders she was a part of, and didn’t even open his mouth before the group of girls ganged up on him - asking him what he wanted, calling him a freak, telling him to get away from them. Later, the girl he’d been pining after approached him - sans clique - and apologized on behalf of her friends. She didn’t feel the same as them, but she couldn’t ruin her “reputation.” They saw each other in secret for half a year before she got a boyfriend on the basketball team. Typical. It hurt Eddie more than he was comfortable admitting.
Eddie doesn’t love referring to himself as a cynic, but the repetitive cycle of being used by popular girls for a night of fun - fulfilling their dream of sleeping with the town’s resident bad boy before never speaking to him again, exhausted Eddie to the point of declaring that true love was a capitalistic ruse created to sell laboratory made diamonds. It would never work out for him, and he convinced himself that he was okay with that.
For the remainder of high school, Eddie continued to play the part. Rich kids invited him to ragers and tried to weasel their way out of paying full price for his weed, even though they were buying with daddy’s money, not their own. He hooked up with random popular girl after random popular girl, always leaving immediately and feeling like shit after. But at least he was getting laid, right?
✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩
Now, Eddie is sitting on the couch in his living room, meticulously arranging and rearranging Wayne’s automobile magazines that live untouched on the coffee table. Has there always been this much dust on them? He wasn’t sure, and the thought only offered a momentary distraction before the nerves swept him back into the electric current of anxiety running through his body.
He’d already spent most of the past hour making sure there was no visible trash laying out in the open for you to see. He’d even gone so far as to make his room slightly presentable in case you wanted to go in. He wasn’t expecting anything - quite the opposite, actually. He was sure that you’d see the place he lives, turn around and walk out without giving him a chance, and never speak to him again.
Logically, he knows that this won’t be the case. He knows that Dustin wouldn’t lie to him about your reciprocated interest. He’d spent the entire drive back to Eddie’s trailer for their Hellfire meeting trying to convince him that he saw how giddy his sister had been when she opened the door and saw him standing there. She’d known Eddie was coming to pick her younger brother up, and she’d put on mascara to greet him - as if Eddie truly knows enough about girls to take that as a surefire sign that you were excited to see him. Dustin hears you talking over the phone to your friends about him all the time, and he only shares with Eddie that what you say is positive - not wanting to disclose the nitty gritty. It’s not your fault that the walls of your adjoined rooms are thin, and your friends are loud.
Still, Eddie is nervous. When he gave you his phone number under the assumption that you might want to call to check up on Dustin, he was shocked that you called days after the Hellfire meeting had ended, and Dustin had returned home. So shocked, in fact, that he wasn’t even the one who had answered the phone - Wayne was. When he’d heard the sweet lilt of your voice on the other side of the line, he’d practically shoved his uncle to grab hold of the phone. You sounded unsure saying hello to him - nervous and breathy and a little bit quiet, but not unenthusiastic - and Eddie knew that Dustin had been telling the truth.
Eddie spoke to you for an hour that night before he worked up the nerve to ask if you might want to come over to watch a movie. “No funny business, just the sweet sight of David Bowie in tights that no other man would ever be able to pull off.” You’d giggled - a sound Eddie was determined to hear again - and asked how he knew that Labyrinth was your favorite movie. The truth was that he’d overheard Dustin complaining about how you chose it every time it was your turn to pick for family movie night, but he brushed off the question and said that he just “Had a feeling.”
The sudden appearance of headlights beaming through the trailer window brings Eddie out of his reverie long enough to remember to wipe the dust from his hands onto his jeans. The sound of your car door opening and closing, and the crunch that your shoes make on the gravel pulls Eddie like a siren song from the couch to his trailer door, and the creaking of the wooden steps leading up to said door, has him pulling it open faster than he means to.
You’re a vision of comfort. Of soft things. Of light wash jeans with no rips in them, of cardigans and sweaters and rose perfume. Your fist is raised in the air like you were about to knock, and for a moment, Eddie thinks this whole thing was a mistake.
“Oh-”
“Sorry, I-”
There’s a beat of silence. The energy between the two of you is almost palpable - eyes wide and palms clammy - before he breaks the connection and moves out of the way for you to come in. He knows he can turn on the charm once you’re settled, but this has been the part he’s been dreading the most.
It doesn’t matter to his friends that he lives in a trailer. It doesn’t matter when there are beer bottles on the coffee table or old socks on the couch, he knows the guys won’t care. But as you step in, and your eyes begin to sweep over the small living room, the reality of his economic status has never felt bigger, or made him feel smaller.
As he looks at you though, he notices the soft smile on your face. Taking stock of the collection of hats and mugs lining the walls, of the throw blanket laid over the top of the recliner.
“The uh, the hats and stuff are my Uncle’s.”
“They’re really cool,” his eyes trace your movements as you walk along the edges of the room, arms at your sides, reading the puns and state names embroidered on them. “has he always collected them?”
Eddie makes his way to the couch, and sits - trying to direct his line of sight to the same ones you’re looking at. Trying to put himself in your shoes and guess what you might be thinking, but coming up short.
“Wayne was a trucker for a few years,” you turn to look at him, to pay attention to what he’s saying. Eddie does a lot of stupid shit to get people to look at him, he knows that. It doesn’t matter that the expressions he receives the most often are sneers or ones of annoyance. Exasperation. But you look genuinely interested in what he has to say, and it throws him for a loop. “And then he got stuck with me, so he doesn’t really get to buy new ones anymore.”
“Stuck with you?”
“I mean, yeah, kind of. It’s a long boring story,” Eddie claps his hands together and launches himself up and off of the couch, and you know to stop pushing. “Want the grand tour?”
“Absolutely,” you nod.
“Well, my lady,” you watch from your position by the recliner as he struts to the middle of the living room, puts his arms out horizontally at his sides, and bows deeply, “welcome to Castle Munson. The maid did actually remember to show up tonight.”
“Oh yeah? She did an excellent job,” you huff out a laugh, and Eddie snaps back up to a vertical, a smile on his face that showcases the lines around his mouth.
✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩
“Eddie? Can I ask you something?”
After giving you a short but enthusiastic tour of the main parts of the trailer and presenting you with the array of snacks he'd gotten for the movie, you both settled on the small couch in the living room. You'd had to resist the urge to curl up into his side, and instead curled up into the arm of the couch.
“Anything, sweets. Go for it.”
“How did you really know this was my favorite movie?”
“I’m psychic,” He taps his index finger to his temple a few times. “I didn’t tell you that?”
“Eddie.”
“Y/n.”
“I’m being serious!”
“So am I!” He matches your raised pitch - teasing, but not condescending - and you almost raise your hand to hit him on the shoulder, but you don’t know if you’ve reached that level of familiarity yet.
“You don’t have to answer the question if you don’t want to. I’m not weirded out or anything - just curious. Honestly, I’m kind of like, flattered, I guess? I don’t know.”
Had you overstepped? Eddie’s eyes flit over different things in the room in rapid succession, and he exhales - you can almost see the cogs turning in his head - like he doesn’t know whether to keep joking or offer a moment of true vulnerability. You don’t think the latter comes naturally to him.
“I heard Dustin complaining to Wheeler that you always pick it for family movie night. It seems like the kind of thing you’d like. Very dreamy and hazy, that kinda thing.” Eddie shrugs and looks off to the side, trying and failing to put on an air of nonchalance, but his tinted cheeks suggest otherwise.
“Is that how you think of me? Dreamy and hazy?” You duck your head to try and meet his gaze, and when he turns to look at you, you think it’s the first time you’ve ever truly seen him. The boyish, innocent version of him that he doesn’t allow to rise to the surface all that often. His charm is still there, and bright as ever, but you can see the uncertainty in the way he struggles to keep his eyes on yours.
“Maybe. Is that a problem?”
“Not at all.” The smile that graces your features is so easy and genuine that Eddie has no choice but to beam his own right back at you.
You settle into an easier silence for the remainder of the movie, save for the comments the both of you share. You think it’s especially funny when Eddie compares The Fireys playing volleyball with their own heads to a “Muppet snuff film on acid.” When it’s over, he grabs a few Dr. Peppers from the fridge and asks if you want to smoke with him before you head back home. You decline, because driving while high makes you nervous, but you don’t mind sitting with him for a bit longer.
“Plus, there’s one more room I haven’t given you the tour for, if you’re interested…”
“I get to see the King’s quarters?”
“More like the dungeon,” he gestures to himself, still clad in his Hellfire shirt, “but yeah, totally.”
“Lead the way then, dungeon master.”
He looks behind himself to see if you’re following, and extends his hand back so you can hold onto it. It’s not like you’re gonna get lost - the hallway is less than ten feet, but it gives you an excuse to finally touch without overthinking it. Eddie doesn't care to ask whether the jolt of static he feels when your hands meet for the first time is because of your shuffling socks on the carpet or the nervous current running between the two of you. Guessing by the way you suck in a soft breath - one he could barely hear - he doesn’t think you care either.
✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩
“All I’m saying is Jareth’s a weirdo for wanting a whiny sixteen year old to be his queen.” Eddie is laying on his stomach, legs bent at the knee and ankles crossed in the air. When you’d entered his room, he’d shown you his favorite things before quickly ushering you to get comfortable on the bed. He said that he needed to have an in depth conversation about the movie you’d just watched.
“The age gap is bad for sure, and she is whiny, I totally get what you’re saying, but-” You’re sitting across from him, elbows resting on your criss-crossed legs.
“But? Y/n. Are you about to defend him?”
“Let me finish!” You giggle and Eddie swears that he can feel it in his chest - another spark.
“I cannot let you finish if you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say. Morally. Ethically. I cannot let you finish.” In true dramatic Munson fashion, he sweeps his hands in front of him, palm facing out for you to see. He’s almost pouting, lips folded in and corners turned down.
“What I’m trying to say,” you look pointedly at him to see if he’s going to interrupt again, “is that I think that his proposition isn’t so bad when you really think about it.”
“Well now I have to hear your reasoning behind this.”
“Think about it. He’s offering her literally anything she could possibly desire, and all she has to do is love him back.”
“Oh that’s all? I think you’re forgetting the part where he says she has to obey his every whim or whatever the fuck.” Eddie fights the urge to change his tone from teasing to serious - his heart twinging at the idea of making you uncomfortable.
“You don’t think that love is enough? Or that maybe all love has a level of devotion attached to it?”
“I think my idea of love is too fucked to give you a real answer.” He’s refusing to look at you - gaze directed towards his ringed hands fiddling with the metal tab of the soda can, eyebrows furrowed.
“I could fix that, if you wanted - make it all dreamy and hazy for you.”
Eddie can feel the wires in his brain short circuit. In the back of his mind somewhere, he knows that he only has a few seconds to respond before you start to think that maybe you said something wrong, but he can’t seem to reconnect in time. All he manages is an out of breath -
“Yeah?”
“If you wanted, yeah,” you nod, like you’ve decided something, and slowly reach to pull his hand from the soda can - taking it with you and setting it down on the crowded bedside table. “I think you deserve it.”
“Really?” He’s looking at your joined hands, but he doesn’t wrap his fingers around yours. Not yet.
“Yeah, Eddie. Really.”
His fingers finally wrap around yours as you pull him from his position on his stomach to lean over you - rising onto his knees and walking on them before planting his arms on either side of your torso. He can feel your breath, soft against his cheeks as he leans in and connects his lips to yours - once, twice, three times.
That same sparky feeling that Eddie has been getting in his chest all night finally rumbles to life. Like a car being hotwired, he can practically feel your hands pulling wires he thought were long dead and breathing life back into them - rubbing them together until the spark catches and the engine starts.
“That was-” You pull away slightly to look up at him, lovesick and dopey.
“Dreamy? Hazy? I think those are two words I would definitely-”
You laugh, already pulling his face back towards yours.
“Shut up and kiss me again, Munson.”
✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩
a/n: ahh! thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed this story please like and reblog i would appreciate it endlessly !!!
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fic#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson my beloved#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things imagine
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COMPASS — TEASER
Bad boy!Sanemi x Reader • Gang AU
A/N: was this supposed to be limited to a “bad boy Sanemi takes your virginity” prompt? Yes. But y’all should know by now I don’t know how to control myself. And I’m going to a show tonight so I figured I’d feed y’all before I left.
Legit hyped for this one because gang member Sanemi is 🤤
Before anyone asks, yes this will end up being a multi-part fic. I don’t wanna hear a THING.
CW: Sanemi being a huge fucking flirt • this fic will be HELLA nsfw so MDNI • like super fucking explicit lmao • Reader runs a bookstore
You’re in the process of double checking delivery logs to ensure all your new inventory has arrived when a large thud against the clerk’s counter startles you.
It’s him again — all ivory hair and silvery facial scars that somehow are less imposing than the irritated sneer he wears.
“This book was shit,” he scoots the novel across the counter to you with distaste. “I want a refund.”
You level his pout with a frosty glare of your own. Wordlessly, you lean over the counter and tap a single finger against a laminated sign duck-taped to its edge.
Return-exchange only. No refunds.
“But it was shit,” he repeats, as though that will somehow spur you to change a policy you didn’t create. “You let me waste twenty bucks.”
“I did nothing,” you rustle the pages of your delivery log in pointed dismissal. “You’re the one who decided to buy a book before checking it out.”
You glance down at the discarded novel. “Figures,” you scoff. “He’s not even an author. He uses ghost writers and takes all the credit.”
“Woulda been nice if you’d told me that before you let me give him my money.”
You hum idly as you cross off the log’s boxes for new releases. “I suppose I was too stunned that you even knew how to read. Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to your shit choices.”
“Oh?” And you glance up to see Sanemi smirking at you. “The Princess has claws, does she?” He leans against the counter, propping his cheek under a loose fist. “So, what are your recommendations, gorgeous?”
“I’m not your Princess,” you snap imbuing the nickname with as much venom as you can muster. “Call me by my name or call me nothing at all.”
His eyes drop to your name-tag, pinned neatly on the front of your sweater. That insufferable smirk of his only widens. “Alright, alright. What are your recommendations, Y/N?”
The syllables sound rich and honeyed and suddenly, you wish you’d let him stick with Princess, grating as it was.
Because your name should not sound so sweet, should not roll off his tongue so seamlessly, as it just did.
You’ve never been one to indulge in rumors. But in this city, as economically fractured as it is, gossip is a currency everyone keeps in their back pocket. And though you keep your head down and mind your own business, even you have heard the rumors swirling around town about the eldest Shinazugawa child.
Rumors that he has ascended the ranks of the same Mob that claimed the life of his deadbeat father long before the bastard was shived in the back for a debt he’d owed (their words, never yours).
Rumors that he holds a unique position within the gang, known clandestinely only as the Corps, and that position requires him to do things most won’t speak about.
But the rumor that screeches to the forefront of your mind has nothing to do with his alleged status with the Corps. It’s his reputation as a flirt; a rumored womanizer, through and through, that is a splinter under your skin.
Determined to pick him out, a wicked idea blossoms. “Fine, here.” You stalk purposefully to the section marked Literature. Your finger drags down a line of titles before finally settling on one. You pull it free with a soft grunt, the book sitting thick and heavy in your hand as you dump it into Sanemi’s.
“Read that.”
His eyes flick between its cover and you, incredulous. “This ain’t a book; it’s a brick.”
“It’s a classic,” you counter. “One that examines age-old question of destiny versus free will, generational curses.” Your head cocks to the side, a challenging smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Love and lust.”
His eyebrow raises and you cross your fingers. If he falls for it and ultimately ends up hating the book, then perhaps he’ll decide your taste in reading material is indeed shit, and maybe then he’ll leave you alone.
Sanemi considers you for a moment but then he takes the bait. “If you say so,” he sighs. “But if it’s shit, I’m taking my refund.” And then he leans in close, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body.
His breath is hot against your ear. “Regardless of your shitty little policy.”
You refuse to let him see how much he’s knocked you off-kilter. “So I can expect to be robbed? Will it be at gun or knifepoint? Just so I’m prepared.”
His chuckle, low and dark sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Worse,” he promises before he draws back. His grin is wolfish, all teeth and feral hunger. “You’ll owe me a date.”
He looses a low, appreciative whistle as he steps back and rakes his eyes over your rigid form. “Though, I might just take you out anyway.”
“You assume I’ll say yes — or are you planning on kidnapping me? I’m sure you’re rather proficient at it, given your occupation.”
Something dark flashes across his face, and it’s enough to make you step back, a sudden fear creeping up the back of your spine.
Stupid, you chastise yourself. You never know when to keep your mouth shut.
But the shadows in his features recede as quickly as they appeared, and Sanemi’s mouth eases back into that same, cocky smile.
“You’ll say yes, Princess. You won’t be able to resist the temptation.”
“Temptation?” You force out a laugh. “And what makes you think I can’t?”
Sanemi’s eyes find your current read, open flipped over on the counter, marking your current page.
It’s a mystery novel. Your third of the month, born of a new hyperfixation on the genre.
You want nothing more than to wipe that smug grin of his clean from his face. He gives an affectionate shake of his head as he turns and makes his way toward the door. “Habits, Y/N. It all comes down to habits.”
You should throw it at his head, but Sanemi exits the store before your hand can find its spine.
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#sanemi shinazugawa#kny#kny x reader#kny fanfic#kny sanemi#sanemi x reader#shinazugawa sanemi#sanemi x you#sanemi smut#sanemi x y/n
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Dead on Main part 6
Masterpost
This town is weird. Jason knows he shouldn’t be one to judge, considering Gotham and his own attachment to it. But this place is like a nightmare, stuck in time backwards-ness intermingled between the people and the place itself. It reminds him of Fawcett, which is not a good thing. He feels judged just walking down the street.
The head into a diner looking restaurant, fast food by the looks of it, that is in fact named Nasty Burger. Jason knows he shouldn’t judge. He’s doing it anyway.
There’s a girl behind the counter who seems to be glaring at Jason. Or Danny, but since he’s Jason right now, he decides he doesn’t need to deal with whatever her issue is. With little faith, Jason tells Jazz to order for him and goes to sit in a booth.
The couple in the booth next to him watch him as he heads to his booth and gape at him as he sits down.
“Danny, come on.” The guy whines, he and the girl both stand and come over to sit across from him. “What was that? Don’t want to sit with us?”
Jason tenses. “Uh.”
“Hey guys!” Jazz says, coming to sit next to Jason. She places a tray with a burger, fries, and a soft drink in front of him and he eyes it warily. “This is Jason.”
They two across from them get these stupid dumbfounded looks. The girl behind the counter is listening to their conversation.
“Jason, these are Danny’s friends, Sam and Tucker.” Jazz motions to the girl and then the boy.
“Nice to meet you.” Jason inclines his head at them, and decides to try a fry.
“Is he…” Sam stops herself. “Does he know about Danny?”
“Not much, but they haven’t officially met yet, obviously.” Jazz is eating her food like it’s normal, so Jason follows her lead on the burger as well. “Danny should be here sometime tomorrow.”
“Where is Danny now?” Tucker asks, concerned.
“With my family.” Sam and Tucker look at him strangely. He can tell they’re concerned for their friend though. “He’s being driven back now, they’re rotating drivers so they don’t have to stop for the night. He’ll be here as soon as he can.”
“Danny will be fine until he gets back.” Jazz comforts them. “Danny was more concerned about Jason, considering the food at our house.”
Sam and Tucker tense in response. “Right. I’d be worried about that too. Might want to stay at the house after this anyway.” Sam says lightly. Jason can tell he’s being talked around. Can hear them talking about something they don’t want him to know under the guise of their conversation, but he doesn’t know enough to make sense of it.
“Let us know if anything comes up of course, but Danny won’t be able to hang out for a while.” Jazz smiles at them, but her eyes are concerned.
“Sure thing.” Tucker says.
“If you guys want to have a chat where you can actually talk to each other, I can leave you along for a bit.” Jason tells them all.
“No!” Tucker says quickly. They don't seem like they care that he caught on, there's no shame to be excluding him. They all just seem worried about something. “Best you stay with Jazz.” He turns back to her. “The GIW tools were deactivated. The whole fiasco yesterday was a lot for everyone. But they should be up and running again by tomorrow.”
Jazz nods at them and Sam and Tucker leave, whisper-arguing to each other as they go.
They eat quietly for a minute, but Jazz stiffens as she looks at something out the window.
Jason follows her gaze to see her tracking a man outside. He’s pretty smarmy looking. Long grey hair, in a full suit, seems like more Brucie’s crowd than someone who would be in a place called Nasty Burger. But he’s spotted them through the window and does seem to be on his way in. ““Hey Jason, would it be cool if you went to the bathroom for a second? Nevermind, there’s no time, follow my lead.”
The man walks right up to their booth.
“Daniel, Jasmine, lovely to see you both.”
“Vlad, can we help you?” Jazz asks politely, Jason just glares at them man.
“You know I always love to see you, but I would like to speak with Daniel for a moment.”
“Unfortunately, Danny and I have places to be, Vlad. I’m sure my parents would love to speak with you though. Dad has been meaning to stop by.” Jazz gathers the trash and remnants of their meal and stands, going to throw them away. Jason gets up to follow her, but is stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He feels a tickle in his throat and his next breath comes out cold and foggy, visible in the air.
“Daniel, don’t you want to have a talk?” The hand on his shoulder is forceful.
“Don’t touch me.” Jason turns himself out of his grasp, backing away towards the door. Jazz pulls him quickly back onto the street towards home.
“Who the hell was that guy?”
“Danny’s godfather, friend of our parents. They went to college together.”
They’re walking past an alley when Jason feels that tickle again, he stops as his breath comes out cold, then something rams into him, pushing him to the ground farther in the alley.
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kissing lessons: 1
synopsis: ellie’s a year older and the smartest girl you know. such a shame she can’t stick around.
song: kissing lessons - lucy dacus
pairing: young!ellie x young!reader
warnings: none????
a/n: this was so fun to write and pt 2 will be out, this lowkey just sets up the next part(s?) also barely proofread, im lazy
part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4
“mom, can i go meet ellie?”
“did you finish your dinner?”
you hummed, setting the dirty plate in the sink beside her. “please? i did my homework too. and fed the dog!” she stopped washing dishes and looked to you. “pretty please? with a cherry on top?”
she sighed and rinsed a plate. “alright. but you come right home when the street lights turn on. okay?” you hugged her waist and slipped on shoes before running out the door.
she was waiting for you standing on the seat of a swing. “that looks dangerous!” you called as you ran over.
she turned back, hopping down when she was it was you and sitting properly. “says who?” you rolled your eyes and set at the swing beside her. “did you see mr. anderson today?”
you giggled and nodded. “i feel bad for abby, must be kinda embarrassing to have your dad as principal.” ellie nodded in agreement, humming a tune.
“i dont like abby.” you cocked your head at her, a silent question in your eyes. “she’s such a show off in p.e. and she gets special treatment because of her dad. so unfair.”
you kicked off, sending the swing into motion. “i think she’s smart. and pretty.”
“yea…” ellie joined you, pumping her legs back and forth to get higher. “my uncle’s in town.”
“your uncle?” she nodded, looking forward at the tree line. you thought for a moment before speaking. “have you ever even met him before? what’s he like? is he like mr. miller?”
she smiled softly. “he said to stop calling him mr. miller. said it makes him feel old.”
“he is old!” you both laughed, still flying high in the air.
ellie stopped kicking, though you didnt notice, very slowly losing air. “uncle tommy is nice i guess. his wife scares me a little.” she sighed before turning to you. “i didnt see you at recess, where were you?”
your feet grazed the ground as you came to a stop. “cole asked to play tag.”
“but you hate tag,” ellie said, getting off to stand in front of you. “did you play tag with him?”
you shrugged before nodding. “my mom said i should. says he likes me.” you kicked at the ground, staring at the wood chips moving. “boys chase girls they like.”
ellie huffed and crossed her arms. “but he’s mean, he teases you. all the time!”
“boys are mean to girls they like too.”
“that makes no sense.” she flopped to the ground, arms still crossed across her chest.
you got off the swing, sitting in front of her. “what do boys like?”
“i dont know… kissing i guess.” she averted her gaze as she said it, choosing the ground to focus on.
you were taken aback. kissing? only old people did that, you thought. how do you even kiss? what if he tried to kiss you, and you didnt know how? “do you know how to?”
“what? how to kiss?” you nodded shyly, meeting her eyes. “yeah. i could teach you tomorrow, after school. joel and tommy are going out.” you nodded again. “okay. we’ll walk to my place from the bus stop then.”
the lights flickered on, signaling your time to leave. “i better get going.”
ellie nodded in agreement, getting up and holding out a hand to you. she pulled you in a hug before pushing you towards your house and walking backwards to her own. “ill see you tomorrow!”
you smiled and waved as you both ran home, butterflies fluttering.
“who is this ellie character?” your mom looked to you in the rearview mirror as she asked.
you smiled, sitting up to tell her. “my friend. she’s a year older than me, but she lives across the street. mr. millers daughter.” your mom hummed as you continued. “she’s really funny and nice. im going over to her house after school today.”
“and mr. miller doesnt mind?” she asked as she pulled into the drop off line.
“no ma’am.”
she parked and turned around, a smile on your face. “alright then. you have a good day, and please be good at the millers.” you nodded grabbing your backpack.
the day dragged as you waited for the bell to dismiss you. when it finally did, you met ellie by the bus, clambering on together.
“i found lip gloss in sarah’s room. she told me i could have it because she didnt use it anymore.” ellie smiled as she told you the plan.
“i wish i had a big sister. sarah is so cool.” you both nodded before moving on to some gossip you’d heard that day.
you entered ellies house hand in hand and she pulled you to her room. giggling as you sat the on the bed, ellie grabbed the gloss from her nightstand and sat in front of you. you tried to keep a straight face as she put it on you, and she tried to when you did the same.
“okay, now do this.” she puckered her lips as you giggled. “c’mon…” you nodded and copied her. “okay. now we lean in and… close our eyes!” you felt nervous as she sat up straight. “ready?”
you both leaned in without a second thought, your lips barely touching before you both pulled away giggling. “this is so weird.” ellie agreed with you, nodding and smiling.
“good weird.”
you ‘practiced’ a couple more times and fell beside each other on her bed.
“was that your first kiss?” you wondered aloud.
she hummed, turning to look at you. “yea. was it yours?”
“yea.”
“what do you mean you’re moving?”
you jumped up from the bed when ellie gave you her big news. how could she be moving? she couldnt leave you.
“dad says he wants to be closer to uncle tommy. apparently he and maria are… ‘in the family way’ or whatever.” she picked at her cuticles, pressing down on her thumb when it began to bleed.
you groaned and crossed your arms. “thats so unfair!”
ellie’s eyes teared up and you sat down beside her, leaning your head on her shoulder. “im gonna miss you.” you whispered. “a lot.”
“me too.”
you had to have been mistaken. ellie had moved away so long ago, there was no way she was back. there was always new people filtering in and out of your town, must’ve been one of them.
but mr. miller was harder to excuse.
“ellie, isn’t that your old friend?”
the butterflies crept back in as she turned around, her eyes locking with yours.
“damn. you grew up.”
#💋kissing lessons💋#ellie williams x female reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams fic#ellie willams the last of us#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams x y/n#ellie williams angst#ellie the last of us#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie x reader
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Math for Aviators | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader
Summary: It's your fault that Bradley finds math so sexy now. When he surprises you by sneaking into one of your lectures, he gets rewarded with a little time alone with the professor after class.
Warnings: Fluff, swears and smut
Length: 2400 words
Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)
This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Check out my masterlist
"See you two at the Hard Deck later?" Nat asked as Bradley climbed into the Bronco after work.
"Nah, it's my wife's late night on campus," he replied with a smirk. Calling you his wife had such a nice ring to it, he had all but stopped using your first name around his friends. "I'm gonna drop by. Maybe take a peek at her calculus lecture."
She rolled her eyes in response. "Tell your wife I said not to forget about brunch on Saturday."
"I'll let my wife know."
He zipped out of the parking lot, still in his khaki uniform, and headed across town to San Diego State University. If there was one thing Bradley never thought would get him going, it was math. But you made it outrageously sexy with your PhD and your slutty little math tattoo.
The fact that Bradley never got to attend one of your lectures during your first semester teaching in California felt like a crime. He'd wanted to, in the worst way, but your classes ended by six o'clock every day last term. But this time, you taught level four calculus on Thursday evenings.
He parked and headed toward your building, smiling as some of the college aged girls looked at him as he strolled past. If they thought he looked good in his uniform, that was nothing compared to the fuss you usually made over him.
Bradley followed a kid holding a skateboard into the mathematics and computer science building and turned left. He was only four minutes late for your class as he followed skateboard kid inside the lecture hall and let the door close softly behind him. The room was quite cavernous, but there were only about forty students in attendance. You always claimed you preferred the smaller classes so you could spend more time getting everyone where they needed to be individually.
When his eyes met your body, Bradley almost moaned. You were leaning over the long table at the front of the room taking attendance, and you were wearing a white blouse tucked into that wool skirt he liked. Even your loafers looked cute. One of his favorite pastimes was picking on you for your east coast wardrobe, but holy shit, the professor look did things to him. Or maybe it was just you.
As you called out names, Bradley realized he was just standing in the back like an idiot, so he walked up a few rows and took an aisle seat.
"Francis?" you asked, and a girl who looked extremely disinterested raised her hand. "Luca? Alex? Did I miss anyone?"
When you looked up, your eyes found Bradley's almost instantly. The softest smile graced your lips, and Bradley desperately wanted to run down to where you were standing and kiss you. Instead he just winked, and then you were opening two additional notebooks on your table.
"Before we get started, just a reminder about my office hours," you said, your voice projecting beautifully. Bradley had to adjust himself in his seat, because you were speaking right to him. "I'm always available to spend a little extra time with you should you need it."
He was well acquainted with your office and the way your voice echoed off the walls when he made you scream his name. He would make it a point to join you for some office hours again soon. But right now, he was going to sit back and enjoy how much smarter you were than him.
"If you recall last week, we talked about the theorems of Green and Stokes. Let's focus a little more on the Green theorem. This is simply the relationship between the macroscopic circulation around the curve C and the sum of all the microscopic circulation that is inside C."
Bradley was already breathing a little heavy. Holy shit. Was he actually married to the smartest person in the world? It fucking sounded like it. And then you ran your fingertips gently along the side of your neck, and he sat up a little taller in his seat. But so did skateboard kid who was sitting in front of him. Bradley glanced around the room, and it looked like all the twenty something guys were hypnotized by you. The looks of open adoration on their faces as you turned toward the white board to work out a problem reminded him of the way he used to stare at you when he was twenty one. If he was being honest, he probably still did.
As you worked out the problem and bent at the waist, Bradley needed to adjust himself again. And when you turned to see if anyone had a question, you looked directly at him as you touched your neck again.
"She's so hot," skateboard kid whispered to the guy next to him.
"Yeah," he grunted in response. "She's like extra hot today."
Bradley leaned forward, grinning and softly said, "That's my wife."
They both turned around to look at him briefly. Skateboard kid nodded in appreciation, and the other guy said, "Well done."
And then Bradley settled back in his seat and watched every move that you made. When you wrote out another equation in your tidy handwriting, you made the variables spell out B-E-E-R-B-O-Y. Every time you glanced at him, your fingers were touching your body somewhere that he was familiar with. He was itching to get his hands on you.
It was an hour and a half of pure sexual tension, and Bradley knew you were enjoying yourself. Knowing he was sitting in the lecture hall seemed to be making your voice a little breathy. You were throwing out terms like "gradient, divergence curl, line and surface integrals, and differential equations" that were making him hard. This was foreplay at its finest.
When you ended your lecture with some reminders about your class schedule, you had your hands on your hips, and your diamond ring was glittering on your hand. Bradley smirked as a line of students, mostly male, formed in front of you once you dismissed everyone. And now he understood why you got home so late on Thursdays. Because all these guys had a crush on you. On his wife.
Bradley was semi hard, and you kept glancing up to make sure he was still there. He wasn't going to go anywhere, you must know that. When you were finally helping skateboard kid with whatever question he fabricated just to have a chance to stand next to you, Bradley glanced down at his lap. Maybe you'd let him have some private office hours right now.
When the lecture hall was finally empty, save for the two of you, Bradley watched as you continued to tease him. You didn't glance to where he was sitting at all as you packed up your bag. And when you erased the board, he could tell you were standing on your tiptoes to make your ass look extra enticing just for him.
"Professor Sugar," he groaned, rubbing himself through his khaki pants.
You glanced at him over your shoulder with a devilish look on your face. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to my lecture?" you asked quietly, but he could still hear you perfectly.
Bradley grunted. "Got dismissed a little early. Just thought I'd surprise you."
"Did you learn anything new?" you asked, grabbing your bag from the table and heading his way.
"Nothing new," he replied. "Just a refresher course on how smart and hot my wife is."
You smiled as you set your bag down next to his seat. "I love it when you call me that." Then you came to stand between his spread thighs and leaned down to kiss him gently. Bradley let you tease him with feather soft kisses for a minute before he was aching inside his pants.
He ran his rough hand along your pretty neck and asked, "Can I join you for some office hours? I really need them, Professor Sugar." When you giggled against his lips, Bradley wrapped his muscular arms around you and palmed your ass, pulling you onto his lap with a squeal.
"Beer Boy!"
"Please? I'll be your top student, Baby. Better than that loser with his skateboard."
"You know, I'm starting to suspect that Luca might have ulterior motives for taking my class again this semester."
Bradley chuckled as he pushed your skirt up your thighs a few inches. "Yeah. His ulterior motive is your ass." Then he lightly slapped said ass as you raked your fingers through his hair and straddled him in the auditorium seat. "I know you can feel me, Sugar," he whispered. "Office hours? Or are you gonna make me wait until we get home?"
But instead of responding, you just rubbed yourself against him. If you weren't wearing panties, he would have a pretty, little wet spot to show off as he walked back to the Bronco. You tugged harder on his hair so his head was tipped back, and you kissed him a little rougher.
"I'm in charge in the lecture hall, not you. And I say no visit to my office."
Bradley groaned as you sucked on his neck, and he muttered, "Making me walk back to the Bronco hard?"
"No," you whispered, and his cock throbbed. "I'm going to suck your cock right here." Your smug smile as you pulled away from his neck left him blushing, he could tell.
"Right here?" he asked, but your hands were already working on his belt buckle and zipper, and he lifted his hips in the seat so you could yank his pants down a little bit.
"Mmhmm," you hummed against his lips before you walked to the back of the auditorium, leaving him sitting there with his hard cock out.
"Sugar?" he whispered, covering himself with both hands as he craned his neck to see where you went. You flipped the lightswitch next to the door and peered out the small window into the hallway, and then you strolled back to where he was sitting. Bradley let you take his hands in yours and set them on his thighs as you knelt on the floor in front of him.
You looked so pretty, your skin illuminated by the soft lighting shining around the perimeter of the room. Your eyes were bright and mischievous as you looked up at him and kissed the precum away from his tip. Your pink tongue darted out to clean your lips before gently swiping the underside of his cock, and Bradley had to grip his thighs to keep from thrusting. Because it was clear you were going to take your time right now.
"You are so hard, Beer Boy, you're absolutely throbbing."
When you took an inch or two between your pouty lips, Bradley's head tipped back. "I love math," he groaned. "It really gets me going. And I love your smart mouth."
You hummed around his length as you took another inch and swirled your tongue. Then you pulled him out with a soft pop, his head snapping back up to look at you. "You're such a good student," you whispered. "Top grades. Teacher's pet. Big cock."
"Fuck," Bradley grunted. "I'm coming to your lecture every week, Professor."
You smiled as you gripped him in one hand and licked up and down along the underside of his cock until he could feel your saliva dripping down his balls. He ran his thumb along your cheek, and then you took him deep so he could feel himself there. He groaned your name as he tapped the back of your throat, and you gagged for him. It was so fucking pretty the way he made your eyes water.
If you weren't concerned about getting caught, then he certainly wasn't going to bring it up. He'd be lying if he said the idea of a public blowjob wasn't adding to his arousal. Hell, he thought the way you and he went at it in the college library study room was hot, and that door had a damn lock. So this was next level.
Bradley grunted in the quiet room, and the acoustics made the sound carry. You were bobbing along his length, making obscene little noises, and he just couldn't take it anymore. His hands found the back of your head, and after one thrust, your moans echoed around the room.
"I love that sound," he growled, slowly fucking your face as you sucked on him. You kept eye contact with him as he started to come undone, his hips leaving the seat as he wanted more of you. Now you were gripping his thighs, ready to take his cum like a champ. He was there. He was right there. One more tap against the back of your throat. All your saliva dripping onto your blouse. It was everything.
He knew you already knew it, but he grunted, "I'm cumming," as he spurted into your mouth and down your throat. Gripping the back of your head, he fucked your mouth with shallow thrusts until he slumped back akwardly into the seat with a long groan that filled the room.
When you withdrew him, his cock was messy and you were grinning as you stuck out your tongue, showing off his load. "Gorgeous," he whispered with a smirk, watching you swallow him down before licking his softening length clean. "I love being the teacher's pet."
You giggled as you helped him get tucked back into his khakis. "I only suck the dicks of my students with the highest grades."
"Hey now. You're my wife. You better only be sucking my dick," he rasped as you stood up in front of him and shrugged.
"Then you better keep getting top grades, Beer Boy."
Bradley was obsessed with you. He quickly wrestled his belt into place as he followed the sway of your ass up to the auditorium doors. "I can't wait to see that skirt on the bedroom floor when we get home," he said as you pushed the door open. And there stood the janitor, about to enter the room to clean it. "Shit," Bradley grunted, still fiddling with his belt.
But you just waved and said, "Goodnight, Herman," as the janitor smirked at Bradley.
He didn't even bother with his belt after that. He just took your hand in his and walked with you to the Bronco, thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you once your skirt was on the bedroom floor.
----------------------
This was written to celebrate the birthday of the lovely @mak-32 ! Beer Boy and Sugar wouldn't even exist without you, Mak! I hope you have the most wonderful day! Thanks for your help and the banner @beyondthesefourwalls
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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster fanfic#rooster x you#rooster x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley rooster x reader#rooster bradshaw fic#rooster bradshaw x reader#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#math for aviators
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BILLY HEADCANNONS PLS HES FHE LOML
billy the kid hc's
request
— he’s a genuine sweetheart in general, but with you, he seems exalted by your presence. because he is.
— he’d devote his life to you, i know it. he’ll always have his yearning for justice, but it’s you he lives for.
“c’mere honey, let me help you.” / “the boys wanted me to go practicin’ with ‘em, but you look too damn pretty to say goodbye to.”
— if he’s playing cards, better believe he’s both playing for you and your honor. billy doesn’t mind losing, but when you’re around he’d rather get bitten by a rattlesnake than meet defeat.
you’d be nervous he’d waste all his money, “that was pure luck, billy! come on, pack up and take me home.”
he’d smile at you, lovestruck expression in his eyes, “yes ma’am.”
— i see him falling pretty quick for you. he’d also be quick to figure out his own feelings.
— he’d be cleaning the barrel of his gun, staring at the stars, and realize that it can’t be normal for his mind to drift to you so much.
— billy will find any excuse to ride into town and see you. someone needs something from the general store, he’s offering to go. the boys want to drink their lives away at the saloon, billy will tag along. anything, to see you.
— he’d love listening to you talk. it could be about anything too, he’d listen so intently with a little grin on his lips.
“what’d y'do then, honey?”
— better believe that if you’re billy’s girl, no one is messing with you. if they do, they’re a dead man. he’d try his hardest to be just with his retribution, he’d never blow a man’s brains out just for speaking with you— but let them touch you with any immoral intentions and he wouldn’t even hesitate.
you try to pry the older man’s fingers away from your waist, head twisting away from his puckered lips, “let me go!”
he ignores you, pushing you further into the secluded bars’ wall.
“get your fucking hands off of 'er!” billy’s voice cuts through your terror, warming your heavy heart.
the man drops you, backing away from you as fast he can. you look to billy, he’s got his anger bubbling up underneath his loving gaze, “run outside, darlin’. m’just gonna talk to our friend here.”
— he’d swear to settle down with you, and he’d mean it. he’d start saving and everything. he’d start the beginnings of establishing himself as a true gentleman for you.
“see that ranch o’there?” he asks, pointing to the serene homestead in the distance.
you nod and he smiles, “m’gonna set us up with one. one day. for my pretty lady.”
— he’d sing for you, if you ever ask. mostly just beautiful irish songs he remembers his momma singing him.
— speaking of his momma, he’d be very scared if you ever got sick. even if it’s nothing too serious, he’s fretting over you and calling the doctor back before the man’s even left the property.
— i also seeing billy singing to you when he’s drunk. coming over to your place, being loud, causing you to shush him.
“wan’ sing to you, honey! be practicin’ since i left the bar!”
— billy will take you riding with him any chance he gets, if you need to clear your mind or get out of town for a little, billy is offering himself and his horse.
"packed us some food, 'case you wanna stay out."
— the gunslinger would generally try to be realistic. he knows he should be, living where he does. but when it comes to you, he's completely romantic. if your pretty eyes are on his he can't help but to think that everything's going to be okay.
#you better keep spamming my inbox with billy thoughts#i need him... viscerally#billy the kid#billy the kid x reader#william h bonney#william h bonney x reader#billy bonney#billy bonney x reader#tom blyth!billy the kid#tom blyth#coriolanus x reader
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some of my favorite challengers (2024) moments
art playfully biting tashi's hand when they're sitting together on the couch
the boys leaning back in unison while watching tashi play
patrick gripping art's thigh
the way tashi twirls when she hits the winner
patrick pressing his lips to the coke bottle while staring at a poster of tashi
art saying "she's a remarkable young woman" like he's a loser loverboy from the 1930s
tashi lounging on that rock like a fucking siren
patrick "it's an open relationship" zweig
the way patrick looks to art first, to see what he's going to say, when tashi asks if anything ever happened between the two of them
"what about my grandmother?"
"i hope she has a stroke."
art "i just don't want to be left out" donaldson
the way art laughs when patrick indirectly tells him that he and tashi fucked, and the way his face falls when patrick turns around
art tripping patrick on their way out of the cafeteria after the churro scene
speaking of the churro scene ... the churro scene
patrick pulling tashi's shirt up with his teeth
tashi's fingers in patrick's mouth
the whole scene of them having sex in the dorm room. god.
tashi "you're not a member of my fan club?" duncan
patrick wearing the 'i told ya' shirt when he runs into tashi in atlanta for the first time in years
"it was his grandmother's."
"how is she?"
"she died. stroke."
every bit of the sauna scene
but especially the way patrick looks at art throughout the whole thing. desperately.
not technically in the movie but that bit in the script during the pre-tire town final bedroom scene where art can't get hard and asks tashi to just hold him
the score!!!! so good so cunty so intense
the way that even when one of them isn't there, they're there.
i'm team throuple for life btw please do not separate them!!!
#challengers#mike faist#josh o'connor#zendaya#art donaldson#patrick zweig#tashi duncan#art donaldson x patrick zweig#art donaldson x tashi duncan#patrick zweig x tashi duncan#patrick zweig x art donaldson
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Trailer park Steve AU part 59
part 1 | part 58 | ao3
cw: canon-typical horror/gore (like for real this time), emetophobia, reference to minor character death. ty to @thisapplepielife for indulging my weirdly specific research about headstones
Steve tries to follow her — gets shot down before he even gets within speaking range, Max shouting at him to give her a minute the second she spots him coming over the hill. He backs off, hands raised in surrender, and then…
Well, then he’s already out of the car.
Well then his feet know where to take him.
His dad’s grave isn’t far. Maybe a football field away, close enough that he’ll be able to hear it if Max calls for help. He moves toward it without thought, his legs carrying him past simple overgrown markers in the oldest part of the park — crumbling remnants of civil war soldiers, farmers and shopkeepers and factory workers, people who worked the mines, people who died before his grandfather was born. People who might have been loved once, before time and moss and water stripped their names off of the stones.
Up the next slope, the markers get more elaborate, shift from bronze to granite to marble, to monuments and mausoleums and a fucking obelisk; ostentatious displays of the town’s oldest money. The coal barons, the oil tycoons. Rotten bastards, Wayne might say.
The Harringtons aren't that rich. They're further down the hill in a neatly manicured row of Indiana limestone; fresh flowers on each grave, the weeds plucked, the grass trimmed.
Dad's buried right next to Grandpa Otis.
It almost looks nice.
Crisp, clean, dry. Nothing to suggest the messy wet red of his father's demise. Steve shoves his hands in his front pockets and steps up to his dad's plot, toes the edge of it, the rounded lump of earth, sparse grass and loose soil where his father's bones are laid. The ground gives a little under his weight, the dirt compacting. Could he dig this up with just his hands? Could he claw through until he reached the bottom, pry open the box and peer inside? Unbidden, the image forms in his mind: worm food and rot, half a man left inside, somehow still frowning in disappointment with his jaw bone shining clean.
Steve's stomach turns. A sick shiver runs through him, saliva flooding his mouth, sweat beading at his hair line.
This isn't right.
Something's not right.
There's a sudden chill in the air, frigid wind carrying a smell like roadkill in the summer — heat wafting from the pavement, death clogging up his throat. Steve covers his nose and wills his shoulders down from his ears; tries to mutter words of comfort to himself under his breath. “Just a graveyard, Steve. Just a totally… normal…”
Ice on the back of his neck. Steve tenses every muscle, turns his good ear toward the sound of whatever's creeping up on him; something taller than him, something slithering and wet, its rasping rattles of frozen breath sending goosebumps down Steve's arms. His hands twitch inside his pockets.
Then, a voice — a voice that isn’t his, that can’t be anyone’s, because the man it belonged to is dead. “That Munson boy was right about you."
Steve can't fucking breathe. Dark clouds roll in around him, violent as a blooming bruise, and that voice behind him echoes — distorted, vicious; hungry.
"You are a black hole."
Steve grabs two fistfuls of his own hair and tugs; wills the pain to dispel the nightmare, his eyes swimming from the sting.
The thing behind him laughs. "Look how you ruined your mother," it snarls. "Look how you tore her apart.”
"Shut up!" Steve barks with his hands over his ears.
“Steve…” The voice deepens, beckons, thick with malice and rot. Steve slowly turns to face it, trembling all over, pulse thudding in his ears, and his shoes squelch in the dirt, and when he looks down he sees that the dirt has turned to mud that now turns to oozing red, a viscous river beneath his feet, flowing up over his ankles, pouring from his father's grave. And there, in front of him, a mangled remnant stands. The ruined corpse of Richard Harrington, his skin shriveled and gray, the torn parts of him held together by his clothes. There’s a hole in his torso where the exposed ribs glint like knives.
Steve throws up on himself.
The ground gives way beneath him, goes spongy like rotting meat, and the thing wearing his dad's face cackles as Steve sinks into the earth, the grave swallowing him whole, up to his calves, his knees, his thighs. "Join me," it offers, lipless smile full of teeth.
The glamor peels back to reveal a monster underneath, its scarred skin crawling in mucus-coated vines; naked, long-limbed, stitched together with burnt flesh.
Steve screams as he scrambles for purchase, up to his hips now in the muck, his feet on the lid of his dad's casket. He claws blindly at the loose ground but it’s all thick and wet with red, and the air itself is red; blood in the sky, in his eyes, in his lungs. He's going to die here. The voice tells him so. It's in his head now, a bellowing echo as the monster draws near, one hideous hand outstretched, an all-consuming join me, join me, JOIN ME—
“HEY!!!”
Max shouts directly in his face, shaking him hard by both shoulders where they're crouched on the cool ground, Kate Bush leaking from the headphones slung around her neck. Steve gives a startled shout and jerks back out of her grip, falling hard on his ass, landing harder on his elbows.
The world shifts back to blue. To dry, clean grass. To breathable air.
Steve pants up at the sky. His shirt clings to him where he's soaked it through with sweat. When Max offers him a hand, he stands on shaky legs, looks at the ground beneath his feet and screams again, scurrying back until his ass hits a stranger's headstone.
There’s a dent in the earth where he was standing. A smudge of packed dirt where he really did sink in. Steve stares at it; feels it reaching out for him, the dark patch thudding like a heart beat, spreading out like snaking vines.
He clutches at his heaving chest. Max’s eyes are huge on him.
"Okay, what the fuck?" she begs.
"What the fuck yourself!"
No heat behind the words, but they burn him, anyway, pushed out on a weak gasp. Is this what she was talking about? Is this what she calls nothing?
This doesn't feel like fucking nothing.
“Shit," she says, and her eyes go even wider. Steve can see the veins in them. "Shit, Steve, your nose…”
He swipes his arm across his face.
It comes back red.
—
part 60
tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)
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Quit Staring
ethan brainrot dont talk to me this got me like 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜
The Halloween party was loud. Extremely loud, and you could barely hear yourself think, let alone the guy that was attempting to hit on you.
“So like, I’ve got this cool new game upstairs. It’s called a Ouija Board and you talk like, to the dead and shit. Wanna try it out?”
What.
“Ouija? The game literally everyone knows about?” You took a long sip of your watered down vodka red-bull and looked the frat boy up and down. “You know there’s a movie right?”
“Ah whatever.” He seemed to be slurring a bit, blinking lazily at you. “Nice dress by the way. What are you, an angel?”
You only stared, wondering if barking at him would make him go away, when an arm slid around your waist and pulled you into their chest. You tensed before realizing it was just Ethan; he’d lost his helmet at some point in the night and his dark hair was a tad bit sweaty.
“She’s Juliet.” He told the guy, gesturing to his knight costume and your angel wings. “I’m Romeo.”
“Is that, like, a movie?” The frat boy asked, peering at you in confusion. You almost gawked.
“Dude are you serious?” Ethan’s eyebrow raised. The frat boy, looking suddenly a bit embarrassed, found himself somewhere else to be. “Jesus, what an idiot.”
You snorted and pulled away, turning to face him. He seemed a little tipsy but not too bad, his expression warm and eyes soft as they stared down at you.
“Thanks for saving me.” You said, reaching out to adjust his costume a bit. “I thought I was actually losing brain cells.”
“Yeah he—”
“Ohmygoood.” A girl cooed, pausing in front of the two of you. You raised your brows and took a sip from your rapidly emptying cup. “I love that movie.” The side eye Ethan gave you was so astronomical you almost spit out your drink. “Wow. And Leo is so hot, right?” She continued, oblivious to the both of you’s disinterest.
But when she laid her hand on his shoulder, smiling flirtatiously, you felt something strangely territorial run over you. If knives could be magically produced by your vision this sorority sister’s hand would fall off.
“You don’t really look like Leo, though.” She said and you moved forward, wrapping your arm around Ethan’s waist. Her eyes widened and she immediately moved back, to her credit. You almost admired her rapid retreat. “Oh shit. I’m sorry. I’m drunk. Are two you a couple?”
“Yeah—” Ethan said, at the same time as you said, “Couple of besties.”
Ethan turned his head to look at you and you avoided his stare, sure you would laugh if you saw what would most likely be his amused expression as well. The girl whistled under her breath and nodded, mumbling ‘okayyy’ under her breath as she moved away.
The second she was gone you laughed, pulling Ethan closer to you and glancing up at him. He was looking down at you with a quizzical expression on his face, his brows knit. You shook him a little, an awkward laugh leaving your mouth.
“Quit staring at me, E.” You teased. You tousled his curls and grabbed his hand, dragging him along with you. “Come on. I say we get super drunk, go to my place, and order takeout. I would massacre a small town for a Caesar salad and a Diet Coke—what?”
He’d tugged you to a stop, those brown eyes of his on your face.
“Do you—” he started, seeming hesitant, and you smiled.
“Do I what?” When he didn’t speak you took his face in your hands, ignoring the stunned expression he now wore. Lord, you must’ve been tipsier than you’d thought. “Spit it out E.”
He swallowed.
“Do you like me?”
Your eyes narrowed, thinking, before you let out a laugh. He tensed, mouth forming into a frown, but you only giggled, running your thumbs across his cheeks, not allowing him to pull back from your grip.
“Of course, E, what the fuck?” You tugged him forward and his breath hitched, but he let out a cry of protest, batting you away when you placed an extremely wet, extremely loud kiss to the side of his face.
“Jesus, Y/N.” He wiped at his cheek, glaring, but you could tell he was holding back a laugh. “That was awful.”
“I could try again.”
“I’m extremely seduced, thank you. Good god.” He wiped at his face a couple more times, cringing, before allowing you to yank him towards the drink tables.
-
An hour or so later the two of you sat bundled up in your bed, eyes glued to the screen as you watch Girl vs. Monster.
You had insisted on watching a classic horror movie and, when Ethan had asked if you wanted to see Stab 1 or Halloween or something, you’d opened up Disney Plus. Of course Ethan, being Ethan, only pretended to protest before he’d gotten into the film.
“These outfits are questionable.” He said, taking a long sip from your Diet Coke. He had his arm wrapped around you, you snuggled up into his side. “I mean, extremely.”
“This is peak Disney Channel fashion.” You argued, glancing up at him, he pressed his lips together in a smile that made him look so boyish, so adorable, that your stomach dropped. “They um—” You looked away, your face warming. “If you think this is bad you should’ve seen Shake It Up.”
“Wait, do you know that scene in Camp Rock where the girl’s playing the keyboard thingy and it’s awful and everyone pretends it’s great?”
“She’s really good.” You gasped, and Ethan’s laugh made you grin.
He tugged you further up onto to him and propped his chin on your head, his free arm looping over your waist so that he held you completely in his grasp. You felt his fingers twitch against your stomach, him getting adjusted and comfortable, and when he’d finally settled he began running his fingers lazily back and forth over your stomach.
You swallowed.
You weren’t sure why you felt like your skin was buzzing, your heartbeat quickening as you felt his chest rise and fall against your back.
“E?” You whispered, and heard the vibration of his hmmm? run through you. “When you uh,” you took in a slow breath when his arms tightened a fraction around you. “when you asked me if I liked you, what did you mean?”
His movements stilled and he sighed, shrugging. You turned in his grip to face him, your eyes searching his own.
“What did you mean?” You pressed, your cheeks flushed as you stared at your friend. He seemed to take in your expression with a hint of surprise, then with encouragement, as he reached out ran his fingers through your hair.
“I think you know what I meant.” He said, those doe eyes finding your own, and he’d barely opened his mouth to say something—you didn’t know what—before you lunged forward and kissed him.
He let out a noise of surprise that quickly turned into a sigh as you pressed your mouth against his own, clutching his shirt in your hands as his arms slid further around your back. You moved away a fraction to look at him as he pulled you to straddle his lap, and the smile he gave you was so gorgeous you screamed internally.
You felt like you needed to take a lap, to run around, to call Ethan and tell him what just— You wanted to tell Ethan about himself. Good god, this was what you got for kissing your friends.
“So I’m assuming you do like me?” He teased, biting nervously on his bottom lip, and you leaned in to kiss him again. This time it was slower, your mouth parting his own as you licked into him, and he groaned. “You have no idea,” he whispered, moving his hands to touch your face, “how long I’ve had a crush on you for.”
The butterflies you felt were insane. Especially when he asked, kissing you softly, “will you please be my girlfriend already?”
You laughed and nodded, slipping your fingers into his hair.
this shit got my kicking my FEET
#ethan landry#ethan landry x reader#fluff#just pure fluff#friends to lovers#scream six#scream 6#ethan landry fanfiction
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the leaders. (m)
pairing/wc; woosan/f.reader, 14.7k
summary; you wake up in a rusty cell, an oddly familiar helping you out. once you step out into the world, it hits you – this is in fact the wildwest, and somehow, the singers you adore are cowboys?
content; wild-west au, violence, guns, murder, smut. overuse of cowboy terms/slang, obsessive behavior
note; again, may seem familiar since i have written this before on a different blog with different characters ♡
You gasp, eyes flicking around. Bars surround you, dust underneath your fingertips. You move forward, tugging on the iron that prevents you from leaving. A groan leaves your lips.
“How the hell did I get in here?” You grumble.
“Pretty ladies like ya aren’t supposed to be cursing,” You hear a voice say behind you. You roll your eyes at the words and turn, eyes widening. He wears a long brown trench coat, leaning against the bricks behind him as he looks up, before his gaze meets yours. You could remember those bright eyes which are now partly covered by the shadow from his hat.
Choi San. And here he is, odd sounding and covered in dirt and grim, probably from trying to get out like you were just doing. But there’s something different about him. He doesn’t resemble the man you remember from the shows. More country is the only way you can describe it.
“I think you would curse too if you wake up in a cell,” you murmur. “Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be at a show or something?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “I ain’t no puppet, darling. And my boys will be here soon.” He stops talking, listening to the shouts outside. “Speaking of which…” He moves away from the wall, leaping forward to bring you into his arms. You shove against his chest, ready to cause a scene before the loud sound of a bomb exploding breaks your eardrums.
The walls blow down, San covering you with his body as debris flies. After a few more seconds, he kicks open the jail door with remarkable strength, running out. Before he jumps through the hole, he looks at you. You can see the gears running through his head as he thinks, before dusting off his black hat.
"We don't have all damn day, S!" A voice rings out, bringing you both back to reality. San rolls his eyes.
"Well, my chucklehead pal W over there could use some explaining to do, but he's not the ripest apple in the bunch," San points over to a man too far away for you to spot, his hand holding out for yours. "But I always have room to help a lady. Take my hand here, and I'll be off your back in a jiffy."
You stare at it for a moment before he takes in a big gulp of air, pulling you from the ground. You yelp, tumbling into his arms.
His smile widens as he sees how close you're pressed to his chest, a wicked grin plastered on his cheeks. "Ah, I don't seem to remember the last time a fine lady like yourself fell into my arms." He holds you back, tipping his hat once.
"S, I swear on my mom’s grave—!"
"Ah, I'm coming ya deadbeat!" He looks back at you sympathetically.
"Unfortunately, I don't have time to be more gentlemanly, my partners get a bit under the weather whenever I delay. I gotta hop on outta here before the sheriff comes and see what’s the hustle and bustle, but I do think I'll be seeing the likes of you soon enough." He nods his head once at you, before hopping onto his horse.
"See you in a hog killin' time, pretty lady!"
He coaxes the horse forward, yelling out a loud yip before galloping off. If you squint hard enough, you can see a few more horses running off into the sunset. Your mind runs miles per minute, glancing around. Old stables and buildings surround you, too real and old to be just an amusement park or a movie set. You walk slowly into town, glancing over at a poster that’s nailed into the side of a tree.
Wanted:
$10,000 REWARD!
Mischief group of bandits called “The Leaders”
Bribery, Murder, Thief
Please contact Sheriff Kim Hongjoong if spotted.
Portraits are displayed below, but one sticks out to you. One smile that you’ve seen just moments ago, busting you out of your prison cell that you have no idea how you got into. You blink slowly. Shit. Shit. You pinch your skin, wincing at the pain. So this isn’t just a dream. They are actually in the Wild West, and you’re… well, what are you?
"Hey there!"
Your head whips over to a man that's slowly walking over to you, his hands on his waist as he takes you in. Your eyes widen as you trail over his fingers. Spokes on the back of his boots, slacks dirty from wear and tear, pronounced belt head that still barely manages to keep his pants up. Best tucked into that, a silver sheriff's badge hanging on his shirt pocket. Your eyes flick up to his face, eyes popping out of your head as you realize who's standing in front of you. Hongjoong stands there, eyes narrowed as he takes you in.
"You don't look like you're from 'round here, young lady."
Young lady? There's barely a difference in your ages, not enough for him to speak like that to you. But you clear your throat, trying your best to sound at least a little like them.
"Howdy." Shit. For effort, you'd give yourself an A+, even though the grinding teeth and wink probably drops that down to a failure. His hand slowly wavers over his gun, and you could imagine this now. Being killed by Kim Hongjoong? Not sure if that's your life goal, but it's not a bad reputation to have. "What if I told you that I'm from the future?"
"I'd think you're trying to play games with me, miss," he says simply, slowly taking his hand away from his waist. "Where you from?"
Taking your chances and saying you don't remember is the best bet. If you even explained that he was from a popular band and you have no clue why you're suddenly transported into a wild west, starring them as if this is a horrible, yet fascinating dream. Amnesia path it is.
"I don't remember. I just woke up in a cell, and then this guy kicked me out of jail with dynamite? And he said something about having to leave and—"
"Wait one second!" Hongjoong holds up his hand. "You were involved in that escape that yahoo just did? Do you know each other?"
Yahoo. This man, with his full chest, really said yahoo. Trying to stifle back a laugh, you shake his head.
"I've never seen him in my life, and if I did I don't remember it. But," you gesture to the wanted poster next to you. "I'm assuming he's a notorious criminal."
Hongjoong paused, eyes flicking between you, your outfit, and the poster. He moves his hand away from his belt, crossing his arms as he sighs. "We've been trying to catch him and his group of bandits for months and we've just caught up with him. But yet again, he slips through our fingers." He runs his fingers through his hair, eyes moving to yours. "You couldn't be part of them anyway, too soft and they wouldn't be leaving any strays behind."
Wow. You don't know whether to be offended or pleased that he believes you. At least that gun of his isn't being pointed at you.
His gaze is focused on the destroyed wall behind you. "Why did he help you out, do you know? Because I don't even remember you being kept in there, but it's strange that he'd take the time to rescue a lady. Those men don't have any morals, at least any that I can see. Do you mind coming with me, miss...?"
He waits for your name expectantly.
"y/n. It's y/n. And I wouldn't be able to tell you why he helped me either, usually I'd say it's from the kindness of his heart but since he's a criminal..." you trail off.
He clicks his tongue, nodding once. "Ah, yes. Don't remember hearing your name round these parts neither. But your talk is a little fancier than mine, maybe you're from some town far away. I can bring you to the town doctor, but I'd rather we go on foot. Just in case you got something wrong with your organs or whatnot."
Hongjoong gestures in front of him, and you walk alongside him. "Do you know anything about our little town? Ah, wait," he rubs the back of his neck, a soft blush creeping on his cheeks. "You wouldn't know even if you did, since that memory loss of yours. We here are in a little town of mine called Mist."
...Mist.
"Not many folks pass by and stay, so most of these people you see walking down these streets are their mama and pop's third or fourth generation of family. We are a crop growing town, not a mining one. We aren't the richest or the poorest, just right in the middle. My pap and his pap before him were corn crackers, but I ended up being the sheriff, much to their dismay." He smiles down at you, his teeth shining in the burning sun. You'd never thought you'd be standing this close to him, but you'd rather not dwell on it.
It looks like Mist is ripped straight out of the history books. Streets lined with a saloon, a library, small homes and other knick knack shops. Rust covers most surfaces, horses neighing as you walk by. Your hand itches to pet the glossy fur, feel their hair between your fingers. But you know you'll just scare them off, and being kicked by that brunt force isn't on your agenda.
Hongjoong talks on and on about the history of his home, explaining that San used to be a citizen of it as well. "Strayed. Found that being here wasn't his cup of tea, wanted to make a name for himself. We were good pals back in the day, some would say brothers. But I wanted to walk the straight and narrow, and that was too good for him. Wonder what could've happened if I arrested him that day he robbed the general, what would've become of him." Hongjoong sighs.
"I still wanted to fix our friendship, you see. Even now, I still see the good in him, between his robbing and stealing. I see the Choi San who wanted to be a farmer when he was younger, before he banded the Leaders."
"Do you know the other people who are a part of it?" You ask, and Hongjoong shrugs.
"All we know is that there's many of them. W, a few others, and San. Our people haven't been able to identify anyone but San and a few others, since they are the face of the group. Know him enough that he'll keep the people he cares about hidden. Kept away from the public eye. Which makes me think why you aren't someone special to him," he smiles at you. "Not sure if you'd want to be, miss. Being with him only leads down a treacherous path. Full of murder and blood on your hands."
"I'll keep that in mind," you nod softly. Is this what San would be like in an alternate world? In this alternate reality? Dangerous, full of anger and greed? You just can't imagine the kind man being that cruel. There has to be more behind it, more than Hongjoong even knows.
He clears his throat, standing in front of a door. He knocks once, glancing down at you. "Doc should be in."
The door flings open, showing the town doctor. You should be used to it, seeing the members hanging around. But seeing Choi Jongho in all of his glory, standing in front of you only makes you smile, your mouth struggles to hold back your squeal of delight. He smiles at Hongjoong, before looking at you.
"Ah, what do we have here? Another one of your one nights, Hongjoong? Have you slipped up again?"
Hongjoong hits his arm, his ears burning red. "You know I'm a gentleman, doc. Don't make miss y/n assume things about me!"
Jongho grins, leaning against the door. "Ah, but you’re known as the town heart breaker. So many of our ladies throw themselves at you and you don't budge. Some even thought you swing the other way," he winks. "Not that I would mind. Patient room's always open for you. And for you, miss y/n. What seems to be the problem?"
Whiplash. The only way you can describe it as pure whiplash. This man is a mystery in itself.
"I'm at a loss," Hongjoong mumbles, scratching his head. "She ended up in a cell, next to San and he let her go? Can't recall anything before that."
"Ah, amnesia." Jongho opens his door wider. "Mind taking a seat? Just want to make sure your head is screwed on okay and you don't have any injuries," his eyes flick to your arms. "Although I already see some bruising on those pretty arms a' yours."
You walk into his office, Hongjoong following as they shut the door behind the three of you. So much for doctor-patient confidentiality? Did they not practice it here?
“Usually the sheriff wouldn’t be with a female patient,” Jongho explains, walking over to his tool table. The list of items there are very limited; bandages, an assortment of drugs, syringes, and a few knives here and there. He grabbed what you can only assume is a stethoscope, turning to you. “But this is an extenuating circumstance, is it not?”
He glances over at Hongjoong for a moment, before asking you to breathe in and out as he listens to your heartbeat, looking for any oddities. Hongjoong looks away, his ears burning red. The only thing this sheriff could do is blush, but you don’t mind it. It’s endearing, how he hunts down criminals but turns red when he’s watching you being examined.
“Are you nervous, doll?” Jongho asks, raising a brow at you. “Your heartbeat is rapid, like you just chased a herd of rabbits!”
Hell yes, you’re nervous. Jongho is literally inches away from your face, measuring your heart rate. Who wouldn’t be jumping out of their socks? Oh no. Your thoughts, they’ve turned cowboy and it’s only been a little over an hour.
“A bit,” you confess. “Not really sure where I am or how I got here. Just want to go home, wherever that is.” A small white lie. If you’re really dreaming, hanging out with the men in the wild west isn’t such a bad experience.
“Ah,” he mumbles, resting the scope on his neck. “Does your head hurt? Any throbbing feeling in your limbs?” You shake your head. “Hm, well this is a bit odd, if I think about it.”
“What’s odd?” Hongjoong asks, finally turning back.
“Don’t see any signs of injuries besides her physical cuts and bruises,” He grabs the homemade bandages off the counter. “But this could be something we can’t quite see from our eyes, Joong. Might be some brain disturbance. Can tell she aint lying about the amnesia,” he crouches in front of you, wiping your arm with the antibiotic, lightly wrapping the gauze around your arm. “Has those honest eyes. Bright,” Jongho smiles at you. “Reminds me a bit of Hwa-”
“Ya know not to mention him,” Hongjoong utters, Jongho sighing softly.
“Times are different, you know. Maybe he’ll come back to Mist, see the brighter sides of things…”
“He won’t. San manipulated him. His parents are still in a rut over it.” Hongjoong rubs his neck.
Seonghwa. So he’s part of San’s rebel squad as well. You’d like to ask more about it, but prying into their lives would only make you look suspicious, and you’d rather stay under the radar. Even though Jongho believes you, not everyone will. You’d end up in one of their hospitals rather than home. Somewhere you’d at least want to see one last time.
“But we should bring y/n to the motel. Yeosang owes me a favor, anyway. At least until she recalls her home.” Hongjoong glances at you. “A ways away, it would be better to take Angel.”
“Angel?” You ask, and Hongjoong’s eyes light up.
“My lady. You’d like her, she’s the sweetest gal in this town.”
Jongho rolls his eyes. “Stubborn. Can’t get her to listen to a word, gets all ruffled up. But she might like you, she prefers women.” Jongho clears his throat, stretching his back. “Time for a nap, don’t you say? Keep mind of your head condition, and I’ll give you some bandages. Nothing really happens ‘round here, so we have a large supply.” He passes you a roll. “Fixing to see you ‘round here more often, yea? Maybe Joong will have a more special lady.”
Hongjoong scoffs, his hair growing as red as a tomato. You’d definitely not get used to it. “Ah, shut your mouth, Jongho. Let’s go, ‘fore he makes up some more nonsense.” Hongjoong opens the door, gesturing for you to go ahead.
You hop off the stool, “Thank you, Jongho. Hopefully, I see you without bandaids.”
His eyes sparkle. “Please do. It gets lonely ‘round here without some company. Leave Joong behind, I’ll show ya a good time.” He winks, watching as you go.
-
Hongjoong stands in front of a horse, patting her coat softly, feeding her a carrot. “Hey there, Angel. How’s it goin’, beautiful lady?” He whispers, his smile the widest you’ve seen it. “This here’s y/n, a visitor that’ll ride me with you, so don’t be too mean. Can’t have her runnin’ to the Leaders.”
Hongjoong looks at you, a teasing glint in his eyes. You roll your eyes. Tentatively, you run your fingers along her coat. She whines, moving closer to your touch. Hongjoong nods appreciatively. “She likes you, so that means you're a good one.”
“You’re beautiful, Angel,” You said, and she neighs, pressing her face into your cheek. “How did a lady like you end up with a scruffy sheriff like him?”
A groan falls from Hongjoong lips. “Hey, I grew up with her, mind you! Took care of each other, feeding each other. This’ my best friend, right here.” Hongjoong presses his lips to her coat, before tugging on her saddle, leaping up onto her back with ease. He holds out his hand for you, and you stare at the height.
No fucking way.
“Never hopped on a horse before?” he teases, but you nod. Shock crosses his face. “Wait, you ain’t kidding?”
“I’ve never been this close to a horse.”
He blinks quickly. “Ah, you must be from the city, then. Everyone for miles has been on a horse since a babe. Give me your hand, miss. Won’t be too hard to help you hop on her. You’ll be sitting in front of me, so make sure you don’t fall off the saddle.”
“… Can’t we just walk?”
Hongjoong’s eyes almost boggle out of his head. “What? Did I hear that correctly? It’s a long walk, miss. Too far. And you just been in a traumatic accident, can’t have you falling to the dirt from lack of breathing. Easy once you get the hang of it. Trust me, you'll be clean and clear.”
You grab his hand as he instructs you to put your foot into the stirrup, pulling you up with his full strength. You’re surprised at how strong he is, the lack of effort shown on his face as you sit in the saddle with him. You're partly sitting on his lap, and you’re thankful this time that you don’t have the chance to see his face.
“Keep your self pressed against me, alright? And hold on to that horn- yes, that. We’ll be going slower for you but once you get used to Angel, we’ll gallup the rest a’ ways.”
Hongjoong flicks the straps, and Angel walks forward. You yelp, your hands clawing into his thighs. His breathy laughs tickle your ears. “Ah, you’re definitely gotta be from one of those fancy places. It’s cute.”
“Don’t patronize me, Mr. Sheriff,” You grumble, only causing him to laugh louder.
“And the fancy words too. You'll be fine, I’m here for you, and we won’t be burning the breeze so you needn’t worry ‘bout that.”
You hold on tightly the rest of the way there, Angel slowly going into a steady gallop. Hongjoong chats your ear off about everything and anything, and you’re grateful for his presence. The stardom away, he’s just like anyone else. At least, in the cowboy sense. He’s funny and charming, and you’re a bit curious as to why he hasn’t snagged himself a partner in life yet. From what Jongho says, he’s popular. Popular enough to reject everyone that’s ever appeared.
“Are your standards high?” You ask after a joke of his.
You can’t see his face, but you can only imagine his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Pardon, miss?”
“Doctor Jongho was talking about how you reject everyone that’s interested in you, and I was just wondering why, as all. I mean, you seem like a good guy from what I can see, I just don’t understand why you haven’t picked someone special for you. Even Jongho was interested.”
Hongjoong quiet as Angel walks on the grassy path. You quickly think you’ve overstepped, opening your mouth to apologize.
“I didn’t mean to- pry.
“No need to say any sorries, miss.” You hear Hongjoong rub the slight scruff on his face, thinking. “All of their advances felt disingenuous,” he confesses. “They wanted to be involved with me because of my position, not my personality. As you can see, I don’t lack in that department.”
You laugh, not seeing the smile that graces his lips.
“Haven’t gotten along with any people except for long time pals a’ mine. Kinda hard to meet new folks when you're in a town like ours, you see. Same folks and same faces day to day. Gets a bit dry.”
“So I assume that you’re happy that I’m here,” You joke.
You don’t see the panic crossing his face, the gulp as he looks away from your head for a moment. “I am, miss y/n. You bring bit a’ spring to my step… Ah, we’re here!” He reigns in Angel, resting her at the stall slightly away from the building. It’s only two floors high, but it’s long, probably home to a dozen or so rooms. Hongjoong hops off of Angel, holding out his arms as he helps you down.
You trip a bit falling off, landing in his arms. He steadies you easily, the usual pink on his face. “Should be more careful, miss. Some men aren’t as kind as myself.”
“Oh, you kind?” You hear a laugh, and turn to the new voice. Blond hair tucked into a hat, he leans against a pole that holds up the building, looking between the both of you. “Not used to seeing the Sheriff entertaining traveling folks. Assuming that you’re y/n?” His eyes flick to you, and you nod. “Ah, the woman spotted with one of those Leader men. Surprised you didn’t arrest her immediately, Sherriff. Loose ends don’t end up tied ‘round here as of late.”
“Ah, Yeosang, be nice for once, will you? She’s not involved with ‘em. Can’t even think back to before today. One of those fancy folk, you know? Probably came from the city.”
Yeosang’s eyes trail over your figure, narrowing his eyes as he takes in your clothing. You’re wearing a t-shirt and jeans, completely different from the corsets that you’ve seen the women wear around there. You wished that Hongjoong offered something so you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb, but to no avail. And you’re a guest to this town, so asking for something when you’re already unwelcomed would be pushing the little luck that you have.
“Didn’t think to give her a new pair of those? She’s practically in the nude in that wear.” He leans up from his spot, walking over to the both of you. His walk is lazy, stare matching. He holds up a bit of hay to Angel, her eating it out of his hands as he eyes Hongjoong. “No wonder you wanted to ride Angel over here. Haven’t felt another in a bit, hm?”
“You and Doctor Jongho seem to like to tease,” You say, earning a raised brow from him.
“Joong here grew up with us. Feed the same bread and wore the same trousers. Families closer than two peas in a pod. Joking is in our blood. Would ya like a new pair of clothes? Get you in something that won’t make the men ‘round here ogle you , their minds aren’t that pure as you can see.” He gestures to Hongjoong standing just feet away from you. “Didn’t even bother offering, his dirty mind.”
“Hey-!”
“I would like that, thank you. But, could I wear some trousers instead? Those skirts are too tight fitting and I can’t move in them.”
Yeosang’s grin slowly spreads across his face as he looks at you. “Thinking that I’ll like you more than the other misses he brings ‘round. Anything you need, miss y/n. Speaking of needs, Hongjoong. Why’d you bring her in these parts? It’s not the calmest area in our town. Could get hurt.”
Hongjoong glances around, seeing obvious sketchy people walking around. Some spot him and turn in the opposite direction. “Need a favor. She needs some place to stay-”
“So you thought it would’ve been an excellent idea to waltz over here and give her to me. Have enough of those skum walking through my doors, don’t need more eyes to cover an innocent virgin.”
You scoff at him, and he looks at you sympathetically. “In their eyes, you are.”
“Please, having her at my home won’t be proper, you know how the townspeople talk. City slicker in my home will only lead to chit-chatting.”
Yeosang places his hat back on top of his head, thinking. “How long?”
“I can’t quite tell ya that. Don’t know when her memory is going to come waltzing back in and saying howdy. Give her a few weeks, give or take.”
Yeosang grumbles, but nods. “Favors gone now, sheriff,” his eyes move over to you. “Let’s get you set up in some proper cow-poke slacks. Wouldn’t mind seeing you in some fancy clothing, though,” His grin widens as he looks at you.
That was flirting. That was definitely flirting. Your face warms as he tips his hat to Hongjoong, gesturing for you to walk ahead. You turn back to Hongjoong, and he nods once, lifting his hat up slightly.
“I’ll be in contact with you, keep your ears clean and your eyes open. Those bandits could be anywhere, and Yeosang’s place is prime time for their kind. Won’t be surprised if they slip ‘round here, causing a ruckus.”
“Not in my place,” Yeosang grumbles.
“Thanks, Sheriff Hongjoong. For bringing me here, and trying to keep me safe.”
Hongjoong flushes, “Ah, no need to thank me, miss. It’s only my job, even if you’re a city slicker.” He teases. He gets back on Angel, whistling at you once before disappearing down the dirt path.
Yeosang clears his throat next to you. “I’ll show you to the back. Can't quite find your size, but pick off these racks here and sure enough find something."
Yeosang holds the door open for you, gesturing to the racks in front of you. "Don't quite trust you by the way, miss y/n. Popping up 'round here out of the blue and yip yapping about some amnesia. Jongho a doc, but he ain't the brightest tool in the shed."
He eyes you. “You don’t even talk like a city-slicker or country folk. Can’t quite pin you down yet. Just don’t bring no trouble ‘round here, and we’d be peachy. Got that?”
“I do,” You say, Yeosang completely reading you. He’s even analytical in the wild west, but you shouldn’t have expected anything less. You’re surprised Hongjoong or Jongho didn’t peep a word about your accent. Maybe they think you’re from some far off town, a place where no one speaks in their slang. “I won’t cause a ruckus, either. Thank you for your hospitality.” You try speaking like him, a grin on your face.
He only rolls his eyes in response. “Nice try. I’m leaving your key hanging on your door, just outside. Grab it whenever you’re ready and your room will be prepared. Some gal will be bringing you more clothing for your stay.”
He gives you a wave as you thank him, closing the door behind him. You stare at the racks in front of you, grabbing whatever looks close enough to your size to wear. You tuck your feet into the boots and stare at the hats. It tempts you, your mouth watering, thinking about living out your cowboy dreams. But you sigh, giving them one last, longing gaze before leaving.
You’re already an eyesore, everyone looking at you wherever you go. Wearing a hat would only cause more people to ask questions, many you can’t answer. Where did you come from? Why do you speak like that? Wait, you don’t know what “insert term” is? You shower everyday? Endless questions that’ll only leave you in a stuttering mess, palms sweaty. You should probably grab a dress and corset and shove yourself in one, but who do they think you are? Walking around uncomfortable from day to day?
You grab the key that’s hanging outside your door, walking slowly down the hallway. Thankfully your room isn’t too far. You insert the key and unlock it, glancing inside. How the lady or man came into your room quick enough and dropped off clothing is beyond you, but you thank them silently, sitting on the edge of the mattress. The room couldn’t be more than ten by ten, a small window with the thinnest panel you’ve ever seen. You run your fingers along the quilt, humming softly.
What do you do now?
You remember seeing a bar just off the hotel, and nod. Sure, this couldn’t be scary. Just a normal bar in the Wild West. Probably some gunfights and glasses thrown everywhere, but that’s normal enough, you suppose. Maybe you’ll come out with an honorary bloody nose. You walk out of your room, locking the door behind you.
You turn, bumping into a body just outside your door. The impact is rather hard, making you stumble on the rug that’s on the floor. Before you can fall back, a hand grabs you, holding you steady. Your eyes look up, ready to thank the mysterious stranger. Dark eyes stare down at you, thick brows just above them, His hair is long, brushing against the nape of his neck. You never thought during this time there were piercings, but you can see them tracing up his ear, small gold studs. He pulls you up, eyes never leaving yours. You can recognize that man from anywhere, his face so distinct.
“Are you alright, sweet pea?” Wooyoung asks, his deep voice resonating in the quiet hallway. You nod, as he lets you go. He wears black from head to toe, boots shining with a line of silver around the heels. His hat rests on a string, hanging on his neck. He tilts his head, wavy hairs falling to his forehead. “Don’t remember seeing a gal as beautiful as you ‘round.”
You don’t know how to respond, and you can tell by his face that he knows the effect he has on you. He chuckles slowly, ring covered fingers running through his hair. “Fine night, isn’t it? Too dangerous out there for a sweet pea like you to be alone. Where you going?”
You purse your lips. “It’s dangerous out there, like you said. I can’t tell strangers where I’m going.”
He laughs. “Ah, you’re a slick one. I like that.” His eyebrows flick up slightly.
Fuck. The charisma from this man is dripping from his every word, every flick of his eyes. But you keep yourself grounded enough to roll your eyes, giving him your back. You’re not here to flirt.
…
Well, you aren’t sure why you’re here.
“Never had a lady give me her backside,” Wooyoung walks next to you, arms resting on his back. “Haven’t told you my government yet, and you’re already running. Let me at least say a bit more before you make me into a bad egg. Didn’t see a ring, so assumed you were an Angelica.”
“Angelica?”
His eyebrows furrow for a moment. “Ah, must be small-town lingo. Not tied down, I presume. No lover.”
“Why does that even matter?” You know. You can feel the heavy flirting between his words, the smirk on his lips. And you’re tempted, but something is different about him. There’s an aura around Wooyoung, more than the flirting. Mysterious, intimidating. Something you can’t quite point out. You reach to open the door, but he opens it for you, gesturing for you to exit. “Thank you.”
“Anything for you. You make any cowboy balmy.”
He walks along with you to the bar, no longer trying to start a conversation with you. You embrace the silence, but his mere presence is intimidating in itself, his looming finger just behind you. As you make it to the outside of it, he opens the door for you once more, his smile hidden on his face.
“Came here to bend an elbow as well. A bit glad I didn’t go to the bed-house, found better sights here. See you ‘round, miss…” He waits for you to say your name, but you don’t give him the pleasure. “Hard to get, I see. Admire that.”
You walk in, him just slightly behind you. The bell rings, eyes of the patrons looking over to see who entered. Their loud talks slowly dissipate, an audible hush falling amongst the crowd. You notice that they’re looking behind you, so you step to the side, letting Wooyoung walk in front. He looks back at you, an evil glint in his eyes.
“Name’s Wooyoung. But you’d’ve learned soon enough,” he takes your hand, lightly pressing his lips against the back, intense gaze on yours as he flicks his eyes to your lips, letting go. He seems to ignore the stares as he walks to the corner of the bar, a familiar silhouette there as well. But you can only see their back from where you’re standing.
You walk to the bar, sitting on an empty stool. Some of the men next to you eye you but don’t utter a word, probably assuming that you’re with Wooyoung. You don’t mind it at all, trying to figure out how to get back to your time is what you’d rather do. Although, hanging out with them isn’t half bad.
“Joong’s gal?”
Your eyes look up into softer ones, his contagious smile and plush cheeks easily recognizable. He holds a glass in his hand, cleaning it slowly. He leans against the counter. “Could tell by your trousers. No lady ‘round here would dare.”
You snort. “And what does that mean? I’m not a lady?”
Yunho looks at you in shock, his lips in the shape of an o. “Absolutely positively not, sweetheart. You’re different, bettermost from the others, makes you more fascinating, you see. Make any get one hellofa brick in his hat. Makes you a target as well, but you’re safe enough.”
“How so?”
He grins. “You’re with me. Talk more after I get these men outta da way.” He tips his head, walking over and sliding people their beer.
The saloon is bigger than you expected, probably about fifty or so people hanging out and about. There’s few women around but Yunho’s right; all of them are dressed to impress, makeup perfect on their faces. You spot Wooyoung, and finally, get the chance to see who he’s with.
San slides laid back in his chair, legs manspread as his eyes lazily trail along the crowd. You can't move, knowing that if you even tried his eyes would immediately land on you. So you try your best to keep attention away from yourself, sitting on the edge of the barstool as Yunho makes a drink for you.
The hairs on the back of your neck raise, knowing the heavy gaze that now rests on you. You thank him for the drink, using it as an excuse to down it quickly, eyes flicking over to where San is. His gaze is focused on you, a sly smirk slowly forming on his lips. He drags his tongue along them, eyebrow raised slightly, as if he's challenging you.
"Involved with a fella like him?" Yunho interrupts, forcing your eyes away. "Could only lead to bad endings, sweetheart. Only keep you on your toes long enough to say hello. Throw you right into the dust."
"Do you know him?" You ask, and Yunho laughs.
"Know him? We part of the Leaders together." He watches as the shock slowly crosses your face, his smirk rising. "Too bad he don't like to share."
"Share what?"
Yunho only winks.
The Leaders. San, Wooyoung, and Yunho. All of them are part of the bandit group. You’re a bit shocked that Yunho is, why would he be a bartender? But now you’ve figured out why Wooyoung feels so off. He’s a criminal, his dark gaze filled with more than just lust. He’s seen things you can’t imagine, things you’d rather not think about. San probably has blood on his hands as well as Yunho, his eyes taking you in as you think deeply.
“Never thought I’d see the likes of you again, darling.” His voice is next to you now, one you’ve just heard earlier today. “Can’t say I’m disappointed. W was just chatting about you, telling me about this daisy damsel, a city-slicker. Got me curious, I reckon, but when I saw you eyeing me, dead giveaway.”
“Was it a coincidence,” you mumble, not daring to meet his gaze. He doesn’t smell like alcohol at all, not even slightly. You’re a bit surprised, but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t expect to see you again either.”
“Ah, it’s not a bad thing,” San nudges the man next to you. The man grunts, ready to start something. But once his eyes scan San, a frightened look crosses his eyes as he stumbles from his stool, moving far away from the two of you. Hongjoong talked about how notorious and dangerous they are, but it didn’t sink until you entered the bar. They’ve made a name for themselves here, and not in a good way.
He rests on the stool, half sitting. “Never told me why you were in the calaboose. Don’t really look like the doozies that creep in there. Much calmer, strange.” He sees the look on your face, and chuckles. “In a positive way, darling.”
His eyes grace over your figure, a teasing glint in his eyes. He slowly brings the glass to his lips, eyes unblinking as he watches you through the blurry glass. His lips wrap around the lining of the glass cup, before placing it down to the counter. "You’re quite a mysterious one, miss y/n."
Your blood runs cold. You haven't uttered your name around him, or Wooyoung. How did he even know it? He sees the puzzlement in your eyes, gaze moving away from you to Yunho, a few feet away serving someone else.
"Town's small and townspeople chat. Hard not to figure out who you were. Cant get the details on your background, no matter how much pig digging. Not even your sheriff knows, and seems like you don't know either. Don't believe that in the slightest." He waves over another bartender, their quick pouring of the drink showing you in the simplest ways San's power in this town.
The shaking hands of the man as he pours, the laser sharp gaze of San as he watches, as if he'll jump over the counter if the man makes the slightest mistake. Wooyoung and he command attention and obedience with their presence. Completely different from the soft energy around Yunho, flirting smiles as he continues to intoxicate the saloon customers.
"We own this here saloon, love. The Leaders. Imagine my shock in seeing you stumble through those doors, W just behind ya. I saw the looks he was givin' you, that poor bastard..."
"Ah, talking about me while I'm not here to defend, sir? No wonder my ear was itching."
You're so absorbed in San's every word, ignoring the slow walk of Wooyoung behind you. He doesn't even bother asking the man in the opposite seat to move, the person leaving on their own accord. Unlike San, he molds his body into the stool, letting out a soft sigh before moving his eyes to you. A small grin teases on his lips, an eyebrow slightly raised.
"Care to share?"
"Not interested. In either of you." You clench your ice tea, alcohol free. You don't see the looks they exchange over your head, wordless communication.
"Heard you talking to the sheriff," Wooyoung says.
"Wondering if you told any tidbits about our encounter. Isn't wise if you did," San adds. "Could be life risking, if you ask me."
You can feel the intense stares they give you without even glancing their way. Your eyes move to Yunho, who watches you from the other side of the bar. It's too loud for him to hear what you're saying to them, but you can tell that he knows. The blank expression he gives you is enough to know. Are they going to kill you? There isn't even any information to give Hongjoong, even if you wanted to.
"What could I say to him? He knows who you are, what you look like. And you barely exchanged three sentences with me before riding off into the sunset," you sip slowly on your drink. "Is that why you came over here? To bother me?"
San chuckles dryly. "You’re a smart one, hm? Think we can put you in your place?" He moves closer to your ear, a breath away from his lips touching your skin. "Can tell you’re flustered, your fingers are all shaky. Scared?"
Wooyoung leans on the counter, head resting on his hand. You notice his arm covered with tattoos and bracelets. His gaze is heavy, eyelids hushed as he licks his lips, flicking between yours and your eyes. "Pretty gal like you may be thinking 'bout something different though. Could tell right when we met, the look in those beautiful eyes of yours. Full a' wonder, and... ah." He reaches out, inches away from your hand, before pulling back.
"The things I want to do."
From the thumping in your ears to the breath of San tickling them, to the seductive look Wooyoung is giving you, it's overwhelming. You leap from your stool, ignoring the chuckles falling from their lips.
"Leaving so soon? Haven't even heard our proposal to you," San pouts. "It's worth a wild."
You hesitate in your steps, glancing back at the two of them. "And what is the proposition?"
Wooyoung leans back on the counter, legs outstretched in front of him. "Distract that sheriff. Tell him falsehoods, get his nose away from us. In exchange..." His heavy gaze moves up your body, before flicking to your eyes. "Join us."
.
..
...
....
"...join you? Why in the living hell would I ever join you?"
A dark look passes through both of them. San jaw clenches, fingers straining against the glass in his hands before he takes a breath, closing his eyes and opening again. He looks at you calmly once more.
"We need a lady in our ranks. Some things a man just can't do. You’re already a criminal, can't judge us."
You blink rapidly. "How am I...?"
Your mind trails off to your first meeting with him, in prison. He's assuming that you're as bad as them, that you'd break the law. But the worst thing you've ever done is kick a ball into someone's face, and you cried after doing that. Breaking the law? You could barely break a pencil, let alone the law.
"No." You say briskly. "I've changed, I think. Started anew. My past is behind me."
Wooyoung snorts at that. "Oh, is it now? Every soul in here sees you talking to us. Probably got to the sheriff already. He must be suspecting by now that you’re in cahoots with the Leaders."
They're trying to bait you. You've watched enough movies to know the moves. The evil glint behind the friendliness. The way Wooyoung's fingers rest on his hip, inches away from his pistol. It's subtle, but you know if you deny, they'd probably retaliate somehow. But Hell, you’ve dealt with men like this before.
"You're underestimating him. See y'all around." You tip your invisible hat, earning a chuckle from Yunho who watches. You turn your back to them, push the double doors open and leave.
Wooyoung goes to stand, but San grabs his forearm, stopping him in his tracks. He looks at him in confusion. "We won't stop her?"
"No. Sooner or later, she'll come crawling to us."
"Not too sure 'bout that," Yunho says, walking to them. "Gal seems independent. Can't see her listenin to you."
San quirks his brow. "She'll learn who I am soon 'nough."
-
You close your eyes, taking deep breaths just outside the bar. Your eyes flick to the sound of heavy panting, seeing a black stallion in the darkness. Its eyes glow faintly, focusing on you for a moment before huffing again. You try to calm your heart rate as you take in its calming presence, a soft neigh echoing in the night.
Your head is filled with several emotions; fear, confusion, lust. You can barely keep up with the heavy waves. The beating slowly drops into a more steady thumping, your eyes flutter as you take another breath, walking through the grass to meet it. It stomps its feet, warning you with gestures. You hold your hands up in surrender, showing it that it shouldn’t be afraid. It slowly stops moving, letting you stand next to it silently.
You don’t dare run your fingers on its coat, too afraid that it startles easily. You stare off into the night, eyes on the sky. The stars are the brightest you’ve ever seen; they glow their own lights in the small town. You glance around, seeing the flickers of torches and stakes, loud voices of people entertaining themselves. The horse neighs softly as you pout, running your fingers through your hair.
“I don’t belong here,” You say softly, glancing at the horse. “I have no idea what to do, how to get back to my home. But I have to admit, it’s nice being around here. The fresh air is completely different. Feels more natural out here.” You hear a crash behind you, but don’t even give the sound the light of day, continuing to hum softly.
“It’s a bit chilly out here too, and all I have is this shirt,” You pull at the material, frowning. “It’s barely thick enough to cover my boobs from showing through.”
“Boobs?”
You jump at the sound, turning to see a man, hair wild as the wind blows through it. He wears a dark blue outfit, cowboy boots shining in the darkness, probably from the flickering of the candle in his hand. He cocks his head, eyes watching you curiously.
“Is that the fancy way of saying bosoms?” You can hear the innocence in his voice, although the scars across his face tell a different story. “Strange city slickers.” He grins, walking to you. You’re not sure how he is compared to the rest of the bandits you’ve encountered, but you don’t take any chances.
“What do you want?”
Confusion is drawn in his expression, before he mumbles something to himself softly. “Ah… you’re with my horse. Seems a bit suspicious, don’t you think?” He points to the horse next to you, patting it softly. “Surprised he didn’t try to kick you. A feisty one, he is. Probably thinking about doing something to you.” He grins again, winking at you.
You move away from the horse and Seonghwa takes a step to it, pressing his lips against it. It nudges against him softly, and he giggles. You blink rapidly. Him. He is in a bandit group, an infamous group. You don’t even feel the dangerous aura around him, not like the other three. He’s much softer, calmer. He looks at you, still petting his horse lightly.
“Heard ‘bout you from the others. Potentially joining’ our ranks,” he looks you up and down in thought. “Don’t know why they’v’d even consider, don’t look impressive to me.”
“Excuse me?”
“Ah, pardon my behavior. It's true, though. You’re light on the eyes, but that’s all I see. Don’t look like you’ve even held a pistol, and from the looks of it, probably run your bazoo and snitch,” he wrinkles his nose. “I ain’t as trusting as the others. For good reason, too.”
He lets go of the stallion, leaning next to him as he watches you. “San trusts you, though. We aren’t what you think, what the chit chatting be saying about us. Hiding among the willows, filled with bug juice. It’s nothing of the sort.”
“Then why don’t you defend yourselves? Everyone is convinced you’re the worst criminals there are, that you’d shoot before anything else.”
There, you see it. The flicker of fury in his irises, the locking of his jaw, the dark glow to his eyes. But as quick as you see it, it fades away. He smiles again, and this time it doesn’t seem as genuine.
“Some of those rumors are true. Don’t be so beef-headed, miss y/n,” he tilts his head as he watches you. “Standing in front of this bucket of blood. Right where you stand, Yunho murdered a man.” Seonghwa flicks his gaze to the grass, pursing his lips. “Speaking of that, being alone is risky. This town ain’t as safe as the sheriff makes you think. Better to get to your home, something’s going down in a few clicks or so.”
Another shout comes from the bar, and Seonghwa sighs. “Go ta Yeosang’s place. Lock your doors, and don’t go by those windows.”
He kisses his horse’s face once more before walking around you, his arm brushing lightly against yours. He glances at the spot, eyes focused on yours. His expression is unreadable, and he nods once before, pulling his gun from the holster, kicking open the bar doors. You take that as your cue, half running, half jogging to the hotel. You ignore the whistles and shouts from the people standing not too far away from the front, running to your door and shutting it behind you.
The gun shots ring around you as you cover your ears, shaking as each one shoots through the air. A deadly reminder that you don’t belong here, that you should be home in modern society. That no matter how cool it is to be in the wild west, it isn’t cool to think about one of those gunshots ending up inside of you.
You need to get home.
-
“Won’t be that bad of an idea,” he says, brushing off her coat slowly. You lean against the tall pole next to his stall. He eyes you for a moment, scanning your skeptical expression before sighing. “We need to arrest them, y/n. Take them in for their crimes.”
“And why do you need me? I was in that jail for a reason, one that I don’t know. You’re being so harsh on them, and easy on me.” You flick off a leaf that falls, waiting for his response. You might be digging yourself into a hole, but it’s the only thing that you could think would stop him from this crazy idea of his. There’s no way you’d try to infiltrate their ranks, the risk is too high. These men aren’t like the ones back home.
“You’re not a threat. Don’t sense the bad mojo on you, can tell by looking into your eyes. You'll be safe; no harm will come to you. Bet a cat’s foot on it.” He snaps his fingers, winking at you.
You narrow your eyes. “Bet your life.”
Hongjoong widens his eyes as he looks at you. “I… no, miss y/n, that’s-”
“Yea yea, superstition and all.”
“You don’t believe in that?” He asks, watching as you shake your head. “Gotta be careful, miss. You’re a good one, that I know.
“Do you?”
“Mama ain’t raise no fool,” He says simply, patting Angel. “Be careful, you hear? Those men aren’t as kind as they may show you. Killed too many to consider them friendlies. Those men ain’t nothing but trouble. Don’t want to see you hurt. But if you don’t accept their invitation under the eyes of me, they might insist in ways I cannot help you with.”
You purse your lips. They’re walking freely through the town, through the darker sides that you don’t see right here. It’s a bit strange; shouldn’t they be put in jail? You’re sure that Hongjoong knows that’s their bar, and yet he hasn’t stormed it and arrested them. Angels neighs softly, stomping her feet. Hongjoong mumbles something against her fur, brushing hairs away from her eyes.
“Why don’t you just arrest them? You know where they’re at, right? Or is there some law that doesn’t allow you to?”
“Ah,” Hongjoong nods slowly. “Forgot about that place. Can’t arrest them if that town doesn’t want me to. You see, they’re infamous bandits in Mist, but not there. I dropped you off just outside of Mist, a smaller town called Halazi. Because the laws are different there, those slickers didn’t cause any ruckus there, so they ain’t going to be arrested. Deputy doesn’t allow me to’ even arrest any bodies there, especially those men. Brings in money to their town. Ain’t going to give that up anytime soon.” Hongjoong’s eyes flick to you.
“Assume you've seen them? Have they spotted ya?” You don’t respond, and he sighs. “Ah, you have then. Just… don’t get too close then. Please. And if you do, at least let me know before something happens. So I can keep an eye on you.”
You nod. “Of course, I won’t.”
-
“Joong’s paranoid. You’ll be fine. These boys don’t mess with no innocents, only the likes of them,” Jongho says, cleaning off a tray with mysterious blood on it. “Can’t believe he didn’t chain you to a fence, in all honesty. That Sheriff is a good one, but scared of a fly.” He clicks his tongue, washing his hands before looking at your wound again. “Ah, it’s healing well, ain’t it? Your skin is going to be pretty again, miss y/n, don’t you worry ‘bout that.”
“Thanks, Doctor,” You say, smiling. “But I think he has reasons to worry. I didn’t exactly tell him the complete truth.”
Jongho raises his eyebrows. “Hm?”
You rub your arm, looking at the healing cut as you speak. “I met the guys. All of them; San, Wooyoung, Yunho, and Seonghwa. They wanted me to join their ranks, something about me being alluring. I refused, but then they responded that I won’t be refusing for much longer? I have no idea what that means, but in my honest opinion-”
“Sounds like a threat,” Jongho whispers slowly, and you nod. “Joong ain’t tell you ‘bout their crimes, did he? Nothing except the little flyers he has hanging round town?” You shake your head.
“San can tell his own story; it’s a big one, one that’ll take too long,” he grins. “The others joined after he decided to leave. Joong and them, friends for a long time. Since they were little ones, until he left. Yunho used to be my assistant, until he went away. Wooyoung is a mystery; lived here his whole life but decided to leave when Yunho did. Seonghwa was Joong’s partner, unofficially. Glued to his side like a worm in the gravel on a hot day. When they had a falling out, he was distraught, choosing between his two friends. Joong ain’t never going to forget when Seonghwa left him.”
“Their crimes are not as serious as it seems. Yes, they burglarized and murdered, but thestories behind each of them are cause for protest. They ain’t ever raised their pistols to an innocent, that’s why Joong ain’t that worried about you in that regard. Only murderers and people who gone against them but for good reasons, in my humble opinion,” Jongho begins cleaning off your cut.
“Then why does Hongjoong want them arrested? If they didn’t actually do anything horrible?”
Jongho thinks for a moment. “In a way, it’s ‘cause he’s heartbroken. But also, just because a person is bad don’t mean you go ‘round killing. There’s due process; jail, and from there punishment.”
He grins as he looks at you. “Like Wooyoung, for a teeny example. He killed many, but all of their crimes were dark, too explicit to even tell ya. Seonghwa hasn’t killed, that I know of but most of the others have. Yunho usually sits in the bars at night, though. More of an informant if anything.”
“It’s a good thing I didn’t tell Hongjoong then,” you mumble to yourself, Jongho listening along. “He has a grudge and rightfully so, but some things should just be kept to myself. I think he’d take me out of Yeosang’s hotel immediately if he found out,” You tease, causing Jongho to chuckle.
“He would've, My lips are sealed, swallowing the key. But I’m still keeping an eye on you, don’t you forget that. Keep your ears cleared and your eyes open, miss y/n. Them guys ain’t that bad, but there’s trouble always surrounding them. Don’t join them, not even under fallacies. Those boys can sniff a rat amongst the willows.”
He taps your arm as he finishes. “Come back again, no one ever comes to see little ‘ol me.” He leans against the counter, looking at you. It looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t do anything but give you that signature grin. “Tell them, especially Yunho, I said howdy if you ever come ‘cross again. Big part of me thinks you will.”
He winks.
-
You’re not sure how you ended up here. In the middle of a field, flowers and other plants are seen for miles. Taking a small hike, you only expected more dirt and pesky bugs. You’re not sure if any diseases from the mosquitoes are actually cured by now, but it frightens you whenever one of them lands on you. You hum to yourself softly, letting the soft breeze swirl around you. It’s been a few weeks in between Mist and Halazi. You’ve seen San, Wooyoung, and the others more often than you’d like, their words enticing you more and more. But you’ve resisted for the most part, avoiding them whenever you turn the corner.
San and Wooyoung have been particularly insistent. You already moved out of Yeosang’s hotel, and into a room and board, farther away from the bar. But it seems like every time you step out of the doors, those two aren’t as far away.
Despite your very thinning resistance, you’ve ignored their requests for the most part. Even though Jongho told you that their crimes aren’t as bad as you may think, you don’t want to involve yourself with them. Hongjoong is happy as well, hearing from you that you didn’t dare join them. In a weird sort of way, it feels like a mouse and cat game, the duo dropping their cheese in front of your nose, and you running away from it.
“Didn’t expect to see you out here,” A voice behind you hums lightly. You yelp, turning to the voice. Wooyoung stands there, hands tucked into his slacks as he looks at the peonies around you. He tilts his head, eyes flicking to yours. “Thought you left, S was a bit ruffled.” He hums softly, leaning against a rock.
“Did you follow me out here?” You ask sternly. “I told you two I’m not joining your little crew of bandits-”
Wooyoung clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “Ah, watch your words, miss. Just ‘cause we been nice, don’t mean we can’t stop.” He motions his hands in a scissor motion, winking at you. “And I ain’t follow you. Here’s my resting place, ways away from commotion of Halazi. And it’s my mama’s land, so you’re intruding, not I.” He grins at you. “Could get yourself shot, miss y/n.”
Your heart drops to your stomach as you scramble to your feet, panic in your eyes. “Shit- I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-”
Wooyoung wiggles his fingers, shaking his head. He reaches back, putting the hat on his head as he watches you. “Mama ain’t so easy to forgive, lucky she ain’t see you out here. But, since I did catch you,” He taps his finger against his pouty lips, pretending to think deeply. “You owe me now, don’t you?”
His eyebrows raise as his lips slowly curl into an evil grin. You mentally slap yourself. What were you thinking? All land must have been owned around here, it is a small town after all. And look at what you’ve gotten yourself into. Wooyoung watches as you go through the hoops in your mind, your nose scrunched up as your eyes flick back and forth. He rests on the rock easily, humming again.
“What do you want me to do?” You ask.
He shrugs. “Can’t think of any at this very moment. Get back to you?” He says, “But we gotta shake on it. Can’t be having some white lies told, you know?” He holds out his hand. If you looked closely enough you could have seen the slightly wicked look in his eyes, the pure lust as your fingers curled around his for a shake. He lifts up your entwined hands, pressing his lips against it lightly.
“Best get a move on, Mama be home soon enough. Can’t be having any daisies ‘round, she carries the big guns.” Wooyoung flicks his head, “Unless you’d like to stay. I have enough room for a visitor.”
You’re at least fifty percent sure he’s asking for you to twist the sheets with him, as they say. Or in your language, fuck. Your face warms furiously as you pull your hand out of his, shaking your head.
“As you said, I need to get moving.”
He watches as you walk past him, eyes struggling to keep them on only your head, nothing lower. It’s not common to see a lady dressed in tight-fitting clothing, and little did you know, they were luring away the men who dared to creep on you. Stares are fine, but the words that Yunho heard in the bars... Speaking of that, his eyes move to look in the distance, at the cowboy that’s been watching you as of late. Wooyoung moves away from his rock, fingers lingering to his holster as he begins his approach.
-
“They’ve killed again,” A voice says softly between the crowd. You don’t pay any mind, knowing who they’re talking about. You can’t quite keep up with the drama that happens with the Leaders, their names constantly at the edge of people’s tongues. Instead, you push your way through and stay in the library, also owned by Yeosang.
He sits in the corner as you read through books, trying desperately to find a way back to your time. You think you’ve had enough of the sand in places you’d rather not mention, and the lack of water to take showers in. You’re sure someone saw you trying to clean yourself in a pond. Oddly, though, the guys didn’t smell bad. But you’d rather not dwell on that thought.
“You've been here for three days, miss,” Yeosang says, glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. “Can just ask what you're looking for, youknow.”
You shake your head. “What if I told you I’m trying to figure out a way to go to the future, where you’re part of a boyband?”
Yeosang stays quiet for a moment, before he chortles to himself, shaking his head. “Spent too long with Jongho, sounding just like him. Boy band? Is that some sort of Sheriff department?”
You hold back your laughter, “Maybe I have been around Jongho too long.” These books in front of you could barely help you, most just telling you about folk tales, things you don’t need to know about right now. You put the books back on the shelves, thanking Yeosang before walking out. You hear a loud crowd in the distance, and squint, seeing men wearing black, surrounding someone on the ground. Your stomach drops once you recognize the figures from this distance.
Stay away, you say to yourself, keep under the radar. They already want you a part of them, and involving yourself in things like this would only entice them more. Make you tied up in drama you have no business being in. You look away, despite the growing yelling. This isn’t Hongjoong’s town; he’d never show up. But some part of you tells you to look, and you see someone running up to them. A shotgun is in their fingers, the Leaders’ backs to him.
Your eyes widen. He’s going to shoot them. He’s going to kill them with their backs to him. Your body immediately starts running, barely keeping yourself on your two feet as you breathe through your nose, pushing through randoms walking around. The man is so close, so very close. You might be too late, you might see one of them being killed -
San stands just over the man on the ground, an angry sneer on his lips as he aims his gun at him. Wooyoung stands next to him, Seonghwa on the opposite side with Yunho staring down at him. They don’t see the man aiming his gun, eyes narrowed as he adjusts his shot.
“San, move!” You scream, feet away. The shotgun man turns around as you yell, but turns back, finger slowly pressing on the trigger. You leap, shoving your body against San as the shot rings through the air. You’re not too sure where the others are, too focused on getting him out of danger.
You both fall to the ground in a loud thump, his body somehow rolling on top of yours. You hear commotion behind the two of you as you take heavy breaths, eyes on one another. He looks between yours, flicking around your face. A hand reaches out, brushing your hair away from your eyes.
“Shit, you got a cut. What the fuck were you thinking, funning in front of a shot like that?” He curses, anger in his voice. But you can only see the worry reflected in his eyes as he looks over you. “Don’t be stupid,” he hisses.
“If you paid more attention to who’s around you maybe I wouldn’t have to be stupid, stupid.”
He narrows his eyes at you. “Stubborn gal.”
“Quit kissing faces and get up,” You hear a voice above the both of you, anger dripping from his words. You look back, seeing Wooyoung staring down at the both of you. “No time for flirting. Gotta show them no mercy.”
San looks down at you, a silly grin on his lips. “W sounds a bit cheeky, don’t he?” He lifts himself away from your body, holding out his hand to help you up. Reminds you of the first time you’ve met him, saved from the prison. But this time, Wooyoung helps you up from behind, San slowly dropping his arm.
Wooyoung glares at the blood dripping from your forehead, ignoring the scowls his partner gives him. “S is right, you know. Keep yourself outta trouble, you here? Ain’t want you to join us this way.” He grabs something from his back pocket. It’s a roll of cloth, he wraps it around the small wound, whistling.
He secures it with a metal clip, smiling lightly at his handy work before straightening his back, looking at the others. Yunho and Seonghwa stay silent, exchanging looks, while San’s fuming, his glare having the potential to melt any man who receives it. You can tell that Wooyoung knows he’s furious but chooses to ignore it, eyes moving to the man on the ground that attempted to kill them.
Some people that you don’t recognize hold him down. San crouches over, narrowing his eyes at him.
“Lucky this darling here is watching,” San stands. “Hwa. Take care of him, have other matters to tend to.” His eyes look at you. “Follow me.”
-
San paces around the room, Wooyoung sitting in the furthest corner. He watches you silently, darker eyes blinking rarely. His trenchcoat that drapes to the floor is oddly terrifying, making your eyes look over to him every so often. A part of you itches to speak up and ask exactly why he isn't blinking, but now seems like the wrong time. Yunho and Seonghwa are dealing with the man who tried to assassinate San, somewhere in the Halazi station. You bite your lip nervously, wondering why they insisted on you coming with them. They gave you room to refuse, of course, their gentlemanly cowboy ways superseding their need to speak with you.
San finally stops pacing, stopping a few feet away from you. "You’re strange." He says softly, eyes looking through his hair. "Can't seem to' wrap my noggin 'round you. Cold Cool as a winter's morn' but warm as Mama's sweet apple pie."
...
"Um—"
"You tell us to stay away, and we do for most parts." San nods at that. "Keep them sleazy men away from you since you insist on wearing revealing wear." He eyes your pants, before looking away. If you squint, you can see a slight color change to his cheeks.
If they call your pants and very thick shirt revealing, you could only imagine them in your time. Seeing short sleeve shirts and ankles. They'd go mad.
"But you saved me," he mumbles softly, rubbing his bottom lip. "Woo," his eyes flick to his partner. "Don't you think it's awfully strange of miss y/n to help us? Aught to make one wonder.“ He strokes his chin, humming to himself.
Wooyoung’s brows raised slowly, clicking his tongue. “You’re right. Why she helping us? Could’ve just left us for dead. Let the vultures pick off the bones. Seems like this lady cares ‘bout us.”
You can’t help but scoff at them, eyes-rolling. You don’t catch the clenching of Wooyoung’s jaw, San’s eyes narrowing at your action. “Talk about being full of yourselves. If you were anyone else I’d still do the same thing. Don’t try to stroke your ego.”
Wooyoung’s rings glisten as he moves away from the wall, taking slow steps closer to you. “Can’t help but talk like that, hm? It’s been a few now, you should’ve learned.”
“Learned what?” You say, keeping your voice steady. You hear a slight crack in your tone, hoping that they don’t notice. But from the slow curving of their lips, they know.
“Learned that the Leaders are called that for a reason, sweet pea. Learned that we only tolerate so little, and you crossed the line more than once,” he raises his fingers, flicking each one up as he counts. “Too many to even add up, you see.” He slowly tucks his hands in his pocket, chain glistening against his neckline.
San nods along. “That pretty face a’ yours only seems to get you in trouble. You know how many men we’ve fought off? Your feet are golden, darling. And you still walk around here like you own the town. Makes us look weak, and we can’t have that, hm?” He tilts his head, earring brushing against his skin as he eyes you. “Heard you owe Woo a favor.”
You don’t know whether to be frightened, scared, or a third thing. You watch as Wooyoung places his hat to the side, loosening his jacket. Your eyes glue to his exposed skin like you’re a deprived man from the 1700s seeing ankles for the first time. He reaches for his rings, but stops himself, smirking.
“You like the rings on me, don’t you?”
You swallow slowly, and San raises his eyebrows at you. “Answer the question, darling.”
“I do.” You say, seeing Wooyoung glance back at you. He slowly takes off his vest, leaving the loose-fitting shirt the only thing covering his chest from the both of you. San’s eyes drift over Wooyoung’s figure, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. But you can see the piercing gaze that Wooyoung gives him, the need dripping from his pupils as he looks back. Your heart pumps in your chest, quickly realizing what’s happening.
“I have the favor ready,” Wooyoung says softly, loosening the first few buttons. You see the golden shine of his chest as he moves closer, now inches away. “Ready to hear?” His voice rumbles in his chest, surly. His eyes lazily slide to your lips, before moving back to your eyes. San slowly approaches, taking off layers of his skin as Woo stares you down.
“Yes.”
He sneers, finger slowly trailing over the curve of your chin, stopping at the corner of your lips. He presses lightly on the skin, “Here’s my favor. Try not to scream, sweet pea.”
“Doubt that, don’t you think? Lady looks like a faucet,” San’s tongue trails over his lips as he watches Wooyoung’s fingers slowly go down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Your eyes flutter through trembling breaths as the rough pads of his thumbs dig lightly into your hips, slowly sliding you closer to him.
“There’s always room to say no, sweet pea,” Wooyoung says, barely above a whisper. “We love our ladies rough, but we always respect them. Like true gentlemen,” he snickers lightly. “Well, the gentle part isn’t as true.”
“Remember seeing you for the first time in the calaboose,” San says, watching as Wooyoung’s hands slowly slide underneath your shirt, rubbing lightly against your skin. He keeps his eyes steady on yours, biting his lip each time you twitch under his hold. “Thought you were an owl hoot, there to serve your time, but I suppose not?” He throws his hat to the side, fingers gracing over his pistol, before he lays it on the counter of the saloon.
Wooyoung distracts you, pressing his hips into yours. He slowly brings your body forward, light moans each time you rub against his hard bulge. You try to concentrate on San’s words, but Woo is taking up most of your attention, head leaning down and peppering kisses against your skin.
“Too pretty to be in that place, covered in dirt. Didn’t think I’d see you again, but look at what we've been through! Pistol whips, visits, bumping into one another. Don’t believe in soul’s meeting, but,” San walks to the door of the bar, locking it behind him, putting the closed sign on the outside.
It was open this whole time? Anyone could have walked in, seeing Wooyoung pressing himself against you as San watched. You tremble at the thought, Wooyoung biting your skin lightly.
“You smell too good, sweet pea,” he whispers against your skin. “Wonder if you smell good in other places.”
“Ah, you're spoiling her, don’t you think?” San nudges Woo’s arm. He presses one light peck to your neck before moving back. San stares at you, tilting his head in thought. “Wanted to see you like this for a while now. Didn’t expect to have ‘nother in the room, but that only makes things interesting.”
“Take our time?” Wooyoung asks, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Bar opens in less than a nick’s time. Can’t have any ol’ seeing her like this.”
San sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Choices?”
Wooyoung rubs his chin, glancing at you. “Wait ‘til tonight, might be-a few hours, passed drunk fighting. Or, have sweet pea here and now, tonight can be round two.”
San nods slowly, eyes moving to you. “Your choice, darling.”
“Now.” You say simply.
San’s lip twitches in the corner. “Now? Can’t wait for us, can you?”
Wooyoung snickers, “Look at our sweet pea. She’s trembling just thinking ‘bout what we’d do to her.”
“Or that you’re taking too long to even start,” You say softly, eyebrow flicking in challenge. “Two boys in front of me but neither are even trying.”
You hear a low rumble from Wooyoung’s chest, taking a step forward. San stops him, quirking his brows. “Can’t stop that mouth of yours, hm? Still haven’t learned.”
You reach for your vest, slowly unbuttoning each one. Their eyes trail to your fingers, watching each one come loose. Once you reach the bottom, you toss it to the side, your smirk mirroring there’s from earlier. San moves first, pressing his lips against yours. It’s in no way gentle, feverish as you let him pull off your shirt. Your teeth clash against one another as he loosens his belt, throwing it to the side. You hear a crash, your head slightly turning to the sound. But San’s wandering hands feel your breasts, a soft moan falling from your lips.
“You’re a pretty thang, aren’t ya?” He whispers. You’ve forgotten about the other for a moment, at least until you feel his ring covered hands slowly moving underneath your trousers, tugging them down. San leans back slightly away from you, lifting you up against the counter as Wooyoung takes them completely off, leaving your bottom bare against the counter.
You shiver at the cold of the counters. San slowly spreads your thighs, flicking below. “Ah, you’re soaked, darlin’. Gonna make my bar all dirty.”
You feel the metal of Woo’s fingers press against your core, a low growl falling from his lips as San flicks your nipple, squeezing your breasts. He slowly presses kisses into your skin, covering your nipple with his lips, lightly sucking. You wrap your fingers in his locks as Wooyoung slowly inserts two fingers into you.
“Sucking me right in,” He mumbles, a featherlike kiss pressed just above your clit. You moan as he chuckles, tongue slowly trailing over the nub. Your hips lift forward at the touch, his fingers moving in and out of you quickly. “Feel you squeezing around me, sweet pea. How can I even fit if you’re already this tight?”
He sucks on your slit, enjoying you trembling at his ministrations. San takes your other breast in his mouth as Wooyoung increases the pace, another finger added. You feel him pressing his thumb into the other hole, slightly spreading your ass. You widen your eyes as he uses your slick to press two fingers into it.
“Shit,” You gasp. The buildup to your high is quick, Wooyoung’s eager growls into your cunt, skilled fingers sucking him in with little resistance; San’s soft lips, teeth biting lightly. Plump lips wrap around your slick as your cunt sucks in his fingers with little resistance. Your eyes roll back as you spasm against his fingers. You push him away as you slowly reach the point of overstimulation, his head moving away. You can see your slick covering his cheeks, fingers covered in you.
“As sweet as a pumpkin pie, sweet pea,” he says softly. “Would give Mama a run for her money.”
San rolls his eyes, “Talking bout ya momma right now?” He strips off his pants, your eyes immediately flicking between his thighs. His cock springs out onto his belly, dripping with precum. You groan at the size, until you hear the ruffling of another pair of pants. Their eyes scan your body, too clouded with lust to think of anything else. San’s eyes scan yours, waiting for your consent.
“Both of us, at the same time. Think you can handle that?” He rubs his length slowly, enticing you.
“Think you can handle me?” You say, smiling up at him.
His eyes go dark, your face reflects his eyes as he leans down, pressing his lips lightly against yours. “Lift up for me, darling. W is gon’ take your behind, I’ll take you right here…” he cups your cunt.
You get off of the counter when he lets go, Wooyoung replacing you. He looks at the clock, worry in his eyes. “Less than cooking time now.” He looks at you. “Your words say a lot, let's see if we can prove it true.”
You slowly move forward, San slapping your ass as you press your lips against Wooyoung’s. His fingers curl in your hair, kiss much more gently than San’s. His tongue plays with yours slowly, before he pulls back. Through the lust, you can see the tender look he gives you. Something you haven’t seen from him.
“You’re doing so well. Can’t wait to see you sitting on me.”
You roll your eyes, turning around as he laughs. He helps you sit on his lap backward, his cock twitching against your ass as he groans, licking the curve of your neck. “Ready for me, sweet pea?”
“Yes.”
You slowly sink on his cock, fingers digging into his thighs at the stretch. His descent into you is slow, his lips pressing against your neck as you groan, trying his best to distract you from the burning feeling. You sit there for a moment, the overwhelming feeling of your ass being filled distracting you from San for a moment. Wooyoung continues to press kisses into your skin, until San clicks his tongue.
His cock looks as if it's almost vibrating, waiting. “Ready for me, darling?”
San watches as you nod for him, moving towards you. He wastes no time; rocking his cock a couple of times before sinking into your cunt with vigor. You didn’t realize how long he is; the head of his cock nudging at your cervix. You moan, his balls resting at the entrance. You feel more full than you’ve ever did before, your mind consumed with only them.
Wooyoung moves tentatively, fingers digging into your hips as he moves.
“Relax up, y/n,” San mumbles, rubbing your arm softly. You wrap your arms around his neck, forehead pressing against one another. “Can feel you movin’, W.”
“Move, fuck… move, or else I’ll cum right into her,” Wooyoung says through clenched teeth, moaning every time he feels your rim squeeze against his cock. San lets out a breath as he slowly drags his cock out of you. His gaze moves between your legs, watching as Wooyoung’s cock moves, his disappear in and out of you.
“You look so pretty underneath me,” he mumbles.
You open your mouth to reply, but he takes that chance to sink into you quickly, pressing lips against yours. Your combined moans echo in the room as they move in sink; San in, Wooyoung out. Wooyoung pushing in, San moving away. The rolling of San’s hips hitting yours with ease, skin pressing against your clit each time he pushes in. Wooyoung’s hips move with the force of San; not stuttering once.
“Faster,” You encourage, causing Wooyoung to laugh behind you.
“You’re real different, y/n,” he says, but his body agrees with your request, picking up the pace. The feeling of being moved between both of their bodies, Wooyoung’s shirt covered chest pressing into your back, San’s sweat dripping onto you makes you weak, your breaths stuttering.
You hear a knock on the door. San’s pace quickens, hips becoming bolder as he collides with you, the squelching sounds echoing in the small bar. Wooyoung’s grip is so tight, you’re sure he’s going to leave a mark. They don’t seem to care about how loud their being, the knocks disappearing quickly.
San groans as he slowly reaches his high. “Gon’ empty in you, y/n. Tell me no, if you don’t want it.”
“San,” You struggle through your gasps, and he grins at you, your eyes moist and head thrown back. “Please.”
“You’re doing so well for me, y/n. Look so pretty underneath me. But I n-need to know-”
“Cum in me,” You say through gasps. “Both of you.”
His groan makes your body tremble. Your fingers are probably putting cuts into Wooyoung’s thighs as you scream, cunt squeezing against their cocks as you finally cum.
Wooyoung’s muscles strain as he holds you up, veins popping out on his arm as he revels in the feeling of your cunt around him. His hips seem to only go faster and faster, trying to hit his high. But once the squeeze of your rim tightens against his cock, he groans, pressing in once more. His hips sputtering as his cock-squeezing out his cum.
San isn’t too far away, desperate gasps as he slams his balls against your cunt. He pushes in once, twice, before his hips sputter, his balls slapping against you. You feel the hot of his cum hit your walls, his warm body pulling you into his chest, pressing kisses into your forehead. Wooyoung wraps his arm around you from behind, your pants echoing around the room.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. We got five,” San mumbles, his cock popping out of you. The smell of sex surrounds you all as he quickly grabs a piece of cloth from the side, slowly cleaning you off. He grins at the mess they made between your legs, Wooyoung taking his cock out. San presses the fabric into your holes as you whine, pushing him away.
“Wait.”
“Can’t have the children on the floor, darling,” San winks. “W, bring her to the back. Can’t have her ‘round when the doors open.”
Wooyoung wastes no time in picking you up with a yelp, holding you gently as he carries you to the doors behind the bar. He looks at you, pushing your hair away from your face.
“Haven’t seen you more beautiful than now, sweet pea.”
He lightly places you on the bed, looking around for a water bucket. Once he finds it, he slowly cleans you up, humming softly. You don’t know what to say. What’s your relationship now? Are they going to throw you away right after this, a one time thing? You’re not even sure if you want to continue it, but the thought of never seeing them again makes your stomach twist.
Wooyoung seems to see the conflicting emotions on your face, because he stops bringing the pants up your legs, lightly cupping your cheek with his hand. “We ain’t gon’ give you up that easily, sweet pea. If you want us, that is.”
You widen your eyes, holding back your smile as you look at him. “So, this isn’t a one time thing? You’re not gonna toss me away?”
He laughs, shaking his head. “When you hit gold, do you just throw it away? No, you cherish it, keep it as your own. We want you as ours, sweet pea.” he looks into the distance. “All of us do.”
“…All of you?”
Wooyoung gives you a lopsided smile, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You thought we two were the only ones?”
#fic: the leaders#wooyoung x reader#san x reader#ateez smut#ateez fanfic#ateez angst#ateez fanfiction#jung wooyoung x reader#choi san x reader
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could you write a smut where you and peeta have been dating for a month, but havent gotten intimate yet? finally he asks if yall could get intimate and it becomes very spicy - fem! reader pls ❤️
warnings: oral (fem! receiving), p in v, lil bit of filth, sub Peeta oops 🤭
summary: request above
author’s note: ahh i love that idea sm tyyy 🫶 sub peeta is my religion 🙏🙏🙏
Masterlist Pinned xx
Peeta sat down beside you, placing a warm hand on your leg. You swung your legs over his, lying back against the armrest. He traced circles and patterns with his fingers on your thighs sending shivers up your back.
You and Peeta had been dating for a month now, you didn’t think you’d ever been so in love with a boy as you were with him. His gentle gaze set your heart on fire, his careful touch and soft expression eating away at your resolve. You’d spent day after day with him in the woods, walking through town, sitting at home. There was one thing buzzing in the back of your mind, despite all of the happiness and butterflies the last few weeks had brought… you couldn’t help but crave more. Every innocent touch had you melting under his hands, you had trouble resisting your urge to straddle him and fuck him right now. His jaw clenching in the firelight, his strong arms across your legs, tickling at your sensitive skin. Suddenly your horny silence was broken by his deep voice.
“Hey Y/N?” he asked, looking to you suddenly.
“Hm?” you responded, turning your eyes to meet his own.
“I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve been spending together… I really do like you and-,” he paused, contemplating his next words, “If you’re not ready I would never push you, I just wanted to let you know that I’m ready… when you are I mean,” he finished awkwardly, his cheeks blushing.
“Ready for what?” you asked feigning innocence as his eyes flicked across your face trying to read your expression.
“You know… I want to feel you, around me,” he said quietly, looking down at the his fingers as they traced your thighs. You smirked at his sudden shyness, pushing yourself up onto your elbows to see him better.
“You want me to fuck you, pretty boy?” you asked slyly, relishing in his embarrassment. He paused for a moment before nodding. You sat up coming down to straddle him and cupping his jaw in your hands. You leaned in kissing him gently. He pulled back, trying to speak.
“Can I taste you?” he asked with a sudden burst of confidence. You felt him grow hard beneath your ass as he grew increasingly desperate.
“I don’t know…” you said, cocking your head at him. God how you wanted to hear pathetic begs fall from his delicate lips.
“Please,” he nearly whimpered, his hands gripping your hips tightly.
“Beg me for it,” you demanded, looking down at him and running your hands up his chest slowly.
“Please Y/N, can I please eat your pussy? I haven’t been able to stop touching myself thinking of how you must taste,” he confessed, his cheeks bright with embarrassment and need. You smiled, satisfied with his answer. You climbed off him, gesturing for him to lie down before you shimmied out of your panties and pulled your shirt over your head, baring yourself to him. Peeta’s breathing quickened at the sight of your body, he clenched his hands into fists trying to regain control as his cock throbbed painfully in his jeans.
“Go on, take your dick out darling,” you said, wanting to see how he got off on pleasuring you. He obeyed quickly, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants before lowering them enough to release his cock and balls.
“Fuck, such a pretty dick,” you moaned, nearly drooling. You held yourself back from your urge to spend hours licking and sucking his fat, dripping length. You snapped out of your thoughts when Peeta cupped his sack, whimpering loudly.
“What’s wrong baby?”
“Need you, need to taste you,” he whined. You tugged his shirt over his head before straddling his shoulders. You placed a soft kiss on his head and brushed his sweaty blonde hair from his face. You then moved forward, lowering yourself slowly down onto his outstretched tongue. You moaned as his open mouth embraced your sensitive pussy. You felt his whimpers spread from your core up your spine. You threw your head back whining as he devoured you like a starved man. He sucked at you, filthy noises filled the room as he latched onto your soaked pussy. You felt your legs shake around him as you clutched his face into you. Suddenly he pulled back making you groan at the loss of contact.
“Please, I want you to cum on my cock pretty girl,” he said lowly, squeezing your hips gently. You smirked down at him before moving back down to straddle him.
“Normally i’d punish you for stopping mommy from cumming but my cunt is fucking dripping,” you said, pressing a firm kiss to his sore tip. He whimpered at the feeling and bucked up into your face. You grasped his hips, pinning him back down.
“Can you be patient for me Peeta?” you asked slowly. He moaned at your use of his name, grinding his hips and nodding needily. You brought a tight fist to his hard length, easing yourself down onto him. He shuddered, his face contorting in pleasure.
“Oh my god, you’re so fucking tight,” he nearly whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut and clutching the sheets beneath him. You moaned at his words, slowly setting a pace as you bounced on his thick cock.
“You’re stretching me out so good Peeta,” you said breathily as your wet hole burned at the size of his length. He rutted up into you at your praise, his cheeks turning crimson.
“You like it when I praise you, don’t you pretty boy?” he nodded pathetically, his eyes begging you to continue.
“Such a good boy for me, letting me milk your big cock,”
“yes mommy i’m a good boy,” he whispered, his eyes shut in pleasure. He suddenly realized his slip up, he sat up slightly in shock, his eyes snapping open. “I- I’m sorry i didn’t mean to say that,” he stuttered nervously. You laughed softly, cupping his cheek.
“You don’t have to apologize, that was beyond hot baby,” you pushed him back on the bed, plunging his throbbing dick into you harder than ever.
“Mommy,” he whined, testing the waters as you rode him furiously.
“Such a good boy for mommy, think you can fill me up with you stickies?” you asked, breathing heavily as his dick rammed into your sweet spot with each stroke.
“Yes mommy, gonna fill you all up,” he cried, his body stiffening as he shot ropes of warm cum, coating your walls as you rode him wildly. Your own orgasm hit you like a train, you pulled yourself from his dripping cock and rubbed at your clit, shaking. You came hard, squirting all over his chest and face as your hips bucked and your hole leaked his hot cum.
You lay beside him, your bodies leaking fluids and the smell of sex and fresh sweat coating the sheets. You kissed him deeply, as he held you tight.
“I love you so much Y/N,” Peeta whispered. You smiled against his lips.
“I love you too baby,”
#peeta supremacy#the hunger games#peeta x reader#peeta mellark#smut#the hunger games peeta#fanfiction writer#imagines#i love peeta#thg peeta#team peeta#peeta mellark smut#peeta mellark imagine#peeta mellark x reader#peeta smut#peeta imagine#peeta thg#peeta#thg x reader#thg smut#smutty#sub peeta
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Dude, get a restraining order
(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (Previous) (Next)
(As promised Damian falls in love at first sight!)
Minutes ticked by like hours as his English teacher droned on about topics he’d learned years ago. Surface-level information dumbed down to its simplest form. Todd had already given him the assigned book years ago. A classic written sometime in the 1950s. He’d claimed it’d be a book he could relate to. He’d quizzed himself, writing an essay to prove he actually read it when Todd came around again.
He guessed that’s why when the discussions of symbolism and deeper meanings started, his interest plummeted. He focused on a worksheet, only half listening as the teacher read aloud. Vocabulary and its context, all of it so dull. painfully easy, but still father wouldn’t allow him to skip grades, nor would the school. Something about him having “Poor social skills,”
Tch, lies and slander. It wasn’t his fault his classmates were too cowardly to speak to him face to face. They’d been the ones to label him as intimidating and cold. If not being a spineless pushover made him intolerable, then he didn't want to be friendly. He wouldn’t allow himself to be taken advantage of, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let anyone talk down to him without facing the consequences.
He didn't need to be social with these hooligans. A waste of time! Plus, he’s certain everyone in class already held a certain distaste for him. It’d be better if he was homeschooled, but father said he needed to be seen by the public so the media wouldn't talk. Journalists and tabloid writers were like vultures they'd squawk regardless if he was in school or not. Father hadn't seen his argument valid so he was stuck with yet another year of this dull nonsense.
A new transfer student from a small town in Illinois should be here today. An outsider spending a whole seven months in Gotham, it should be equal parts entertaining as it’d be inconvenient. The backlash that’d hit them if they let said transfer student die within city borders would be tremendous. He could only hope this Daniel Fenton wasn’t just late and instead backed out like any sensible person would.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case as the teacher stepped outside, coming back with a smile of faux sweetness on their face, waving her hand, signaling someone inside.
A boy with eyes blue like sapphire stones stepped into the classroom. His shoulders lax but the way he fidgeted in place screamed he’d rather be anywhere but here. His features were soft, electrical scaring running down the left side of his face, creeping down the boy’s chin and neck. Hair pitch black with short splotches of white-ish gray framed his face. A small silver necklace shaped like Saturn hung from his neck, a clear dress code violation, but clearly, he hadn’t been accosted for it yet. Their teacher encouraged him to introduce himself.
“Hi, My name’s Danny and I hope I don’t die here,” Daniel joked, his posture jovial despite the morbidity of his words.
“Though, I wouldn’t be shocked if I did,” He finished, earning a quiet chuckle from those who could see the boy’s scars.
Daniel glanced around the front row, eyes landing on the empty spot beside him. Daniel quickly took this spot without hesitation, ignoring the multiple students who waved him over with a simple gesture to the left side of his face.
With a closer view of Daniel's left eye, he could see the slight milky discoloration of the pupil and iris. He's likely blind in that eye, but the circumstances of him being born with the impairment are unlikely, judging by the damage around his eye socket. It had healed well for what he could only infer was a grievous injury. The scar tissue looked fresh, no older than a year or so, signaling this partial blindness was relatively new.
He seemed relieved that the teacher was reading out loud like nobody had offered him any sort of accommodation for his disability. Considering Daniel came from a small town in Illinois, he doubted any school accommodations were made for him besides maybe a week or so off school when he was recovering. Gotham wasn’t much better, but Father poured a decent amount into the city’s healthcare and educational systems.
“Tuck your necklace under your shirt,” He whispered to his new seatmate when the teacher turned her back. “It breaks the dress code, you’ll never get it back if a teacher spots it,” A warning deadly serious, a bit stern for something as frivolous as a piece of jewelry, but Daniel looked as if that simple warning had saved his life. Daniel shoved the necklace under his dress shirt with alarming speed, tucking the thin, bronze chain beneath his collar, making the boy’s neck look deceptively bare.
They both continued their work in silence, mutual respect between the two of them to stay out of each other’s way. When Daniel’s pencil lead broke, Damian offered him a sharpener. When their teacher called on him despite his hand being down, Danny answered instead, giddy that “he” was called on. Giving the English teacher the easy choice of admitting she was targeting students or playing the part of a welcoming teacher eager to have the half-blind kid engage with her class.
Daniel did it on purpose too, that was sure. He made class time more bearable that was certain as well. The way his seatmate engaged the subject in an intelligent manner despite frequent mutters of English not “being his subject,” was admirable.
When brought into discussion, Daniel meshed with his new peers relatively quickly, quick to snap in with a clever quip when the opportunity arose. He was by no means a social butterfly but fell into the rhythm of a conversation with practiced ease.
Often, when not writing he fidgeted, picking at black and white polish on his nails or twirling a pencil between two fingers. He’d rest his face on his palm and pursed his lips when confused. Though his mannerisms were somewhat awkward, some might call them cute.
It wasn‘t long until class was over, the bell calling all the students to coagulate by the door, slowly filing into the hallway. All except him and Daniel, who stared at a schedule and a map with furrowed brows. They shared their next class too, an idea that filled him with an odd giddiness.
Damian pulled a copy of his own schedule from his bag, tapping Daniels's shoulder and showing him their matching second-hour classes.
“It would be easier if we went together,”
Daniel smiled, canines sharpened to a point. His heart boomed in his chest, a strange but…Pleasant experience. It was too early to tell, but he thinks he’ll enjoy having Daniel here for the next seven months.
#dp x dc#dpxdc#dc x dp#dcxdp#deadserious#dead serious#deadseriousship#tagging everything so people can filter properly#These bitches gay as hell#good for thems
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Belladonna, Forget-me-not, Hyssop, dwarf sunflower 🌻
ouagh thank you for sending a request <3 check out the list here! <3
Inc: Lilia (both present and general), Reader, Silver, Sebek mention
WC: 3.5k
Warnings: War mention, arson, crimes committed during war time (all my homies hate Silver Owls). Lilia cussing, as he should.
Flowers: Belladonna (a confession given without words aka we are pining mentally in the club), Forget me not (the one thing I remembered and how it brought me back to you), Hyssop (one last walk through a house—sort of), Sunflower, dwarf (how many ways do I have to confess for you to believe me?). Some flexibility with these.
Summary: A trinket he had forgotten pulls him down a path of memories that he wishes he could forget.
There’s a sunflower in the garden this year.
He thinks it’s quite curious when he first sees the bud, its petals still closed tight as though afraid to enter the world. He’s standing outside of the front door of his cottage with a mug in hand as he gives it a scrutinizing look. The silence of the forest surrounding his home lets him focus ample attention on how this oddity came to be. Silver has run to town and won’t be back until the evening, aiding Sebek in purchasing school supplies for the coming year, and Malleus is likely packing in his eagerness to get out of the palace for another ten months.
It’s just Lilia, his mug, and the sunflower.
“Shy, are we?” He murmurs in amusement as he raises the mug to his lips before they twist to a wry grimace. Perhaps being alone is not good for him—he’s beginning to speak to his gardens like an old man already.
He wisely turns heel and re-enters the cottage as he downs the bitter coffee before discarding the mug in the sink. He’ll wash the dishes before Silver gets home, only because he knows the boy will do it all himself if he doesn’t, which would do nothing but make Lilia feel guilty. Silver insists it’s fine, he’s happy to help his father—but it shouldn’t be that way. His brow furrows in dissatisfaction as he weaves through the cottage's halls to arrive at his bedroom.
Contrary to his room at NRC, this one is so barren it looks downright unoccupied, like no one has ever lived in it to begin with. Lilia had moved most of his valuables with him when he had received notice of his pending enrolment alongside Malleus. This at least makes sorting out what he’s to wear today much easier as he pulls open the closet to peer inside. His fingers dance along the various fabrics as he hums, and haws, and already knows he’s going to wear the same outfit he wears essentially every day.
Lilia Vanrouge has become a man of consistency—another factor that serves to paint him as ‘old’.
“Decrepit, even,” he grumbles to himself as he tosses his clothes onto the bed. Perhaps he can spice it up a bit to combat these self-perpetuated accusations through the application of an accessory. The thought pleases him enough to make him reach for the top shelf of his closet, his hand hitting against objects and shoving things around in his bid to grab something useful. Maybe he would have benefited from just floating up to see what he needed to get, because his hand soon hits an item that topples off the shelf and nearly clocks him in the face.
“Shit!” He snarls as he moves back. The box clatters to the floor by his foot with a loud rattle, causing him to glare down at it accusingly. His eyes narrow as another low curse slips out and he fumbles to pick the box up.
It’s made of carved wood—oak, by the weight of it. Each etching along the sides paints a tale that draws Lilia to a stop as he turns it over in his hands. A figure perched on a tree branch with another sitting beneath, a blade and wood in hand. The two figures are next in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. Then they are standing beside each other by a body of water; the carving here is detailed enough that he can see apprehension in one’s gaze and sternness in the others.
The final carving is incomplete, only because a blackened char mark has burnt the wood to an unusable state.
Ah.
He remembers why he didn’t take this to NRC. He remembers why he had it shoved in the back of the closet like something rotten, something meant to be concealed. He feels his mood darken as he turns the box over again. Each nick, each mark, tells a tale of something that stirs a burning shame in his gut. His hands tighten enough that he hears the wood creaking under his strength before they relax once more.
Then, he pauses. Silver won’t be back until far later in the day. He has nothing to do but wash a mug that now sits fermenting in his sink. Beyond this, he’ll simply be wandering from room to room in his cottage like a ghost, perhaps cutting some firewood, perhaps seeing if the bloody quails that have been tormenting his vegetable gardens are back.
Lilia moves until the back of his knees hit his bed and he sits down, cradling the box more gently now. A sudden urge—a bit of masochistic curiosity—tugs at his heart as his lips curl into a sneer. His thumb brushes against the carving of the figure crouching in the tree.
Well, if he needs a good way to kill an hour or so.
“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.”
_________________________________________________________
The memory begins as it always did any time that he did this. He’s just over 300 years old, his hair long and his body perched on the branches of a tree. He forgot that if he’s personally in the memory, his magic has a habit of tossing him headfirst directly into his body again. The scent of pine overwhelms him as he looks across a Briar Valley that once was just as full of life as he. Green, as far as the eye can see, and the songs of birds that have since gone extinct filling the warm air.
He shifts on the branch and closes his eyes for a moment as he drinks it all in. Things long since gone, things he wishes he could experience just one more time in his current life. He almost loses himself in the memory—a dangerous risk—before he hears the faint sound of scraping from beneath where he’s perched.
Lilia’s eyes snap open and his gaze travels down to see a figure with a cloak sitting against the pine tree, their hood pulled up as their hands expertly carve a piece of wood with their blade. He can’t quite tell what it is they’re making—and truthfully, he’s long since forgotten.
But the sound of their voice as they hum an old folk song he hasn’t heard since the war times makes him tense all the same.
You.
Fuck.
The uncomfortableness of the situation, the realization that perhaps doing this was a mistake on his part, makes him shift back on the branch. This is enough to make a few twigs snap and force your attention to jerk upwards to where he lay. His red gaze locks onto yours as every sound in the forest falls silent and all he knows is the confusion in your eyes.
“How long have you been up there?” You blurt out, your voice sounding exactly how he hears it in his dreams for the past four hundred years. A strangled sound leaves his throat, and with all of the energy he can muster, Lilia jerks himself free of the memory.
_________________________________________________________
He stutters for air as his eyes open once more and he grips the box tight. The carving of his body on the branch overlooking yours at the base is now just a mockery for things he foolishly lost. The only way he can know you now is through the use of magic, and even that cannot return you entirely.
He shouldn’t be doing this. A glance at the clock on the wall tells him he was in the memory for fifteen minutes, despite it feeling only like mere seconds.
He shouldn’t be doing this. He turns the box over in his hand to look at the next carving. The two figures in a home, with a few flowers hanging to dry from a window. He notes with a bitter amusement that they’re all sunflowers.
The box should go back on the top shelf. He should lock it away again and forget it, leave it for Silver to find only once his father is dead and rotting under the earth. Perhaps the boy can finish what the humans started—burning it to nothing but cinders.
He shouldn’t be doing this to himself, and yet…
“All is as if it were days long past. No matter where it takes us, it will all be over in the blink of an eye. Far cry cradle.”
_________________________________________________________
Lilia finds himself standing in a small cottage eerily reminiscent of his own. He knows a few months have passed since the first encounter by the way there’s snow falling heavily from the skies outside. Briar Valley’s winters are vicious—as untamed as the land itself once had been before metal teeth had torn it apart and left the fae to clean its viscera. His gaze travels to the window nearby to look out at the landscape before it’s drawn upwards to the flowers hanging down from the sill.
Sunflowers, which look as fresh as the day they were likely picked, paint a cheery picture against the bleak backdrop beyond.
“I am afraid it isn’t quite perfect, but it should do the trick to warm you up.” Your voice's soft cadence causes his shoulders to tense as he doesn’t turn around to face you. He can hear you humming, the sound of a bowl being set on a nearby table, and the aroma of something so intoxicating it makes his stomach twist in phantom hunger. “Why were you rushing through this blizzard to begin with?”
Lilia blinks as silence falls. You’re waiting for his response. This likely won’t play out unless he gives it.
“Her majesty bid me to deliver a missive to Princess Meleanor.” He murmurs, eyes still fixated on the sunflower. They almost look real to him despite the knowledge that this is nothing but an illusion. He hears you hum in disapproval. You often did that—hummed a lot, laughed a lot.
“Terrible weather to be doing so, but I suppose if it’s urgent, you can’t sit on it. At least have something to eat before you go braving Briar Nation once more.”
His head turns slightly so that he can catch a glimpse of you in his peripheral vision. Your back is to him as you scoop more food into a second bowl. You’re not unique—just another fae in a nation of many—but you stand out to him. Four hundred years later, he still struggles to rationalize why.
“You must like sunflowers a lot.” He comments abruptly. He didn’t say this in the memory, and he can tell by the way it seems to stutter around him. You still turn and look at him in confusion, however. “You only have sunflowers hanging on your window.”
“Oh!” You seem surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces your face. He wishes he had never seen that again. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
He wants to say something, perhaps ‘I know’, but the memory melts away before the words can leave his tongue.
_________________________________________________________
Lilia tastes copper when his eyes snap to the clock on the wall. Thirty minutes have gone by now—another fifteen in the previous memory. His hands shake slightly as he turns the box over like a man under a compulsion. The carving of two figures by the water seems to be taunting him as his thumb traces across your body.
He doesn’t even bother speaking the phrase clearly this time. It comes as a mumble, and suddenly he’s falling into darkness again.
_________________________________________________________
Tension is palpable when Lilia opens his eyes. Although it’s spring, the warmth seems nonexistent in the air as deafening silence fills where he stands. You’re by his side, your arms crossed tight over your chest as you stare at the pond beyond. By your feet, a patch of sunflowers smiles up at the bright skies above.
“How much longer do you think it will last before they wipe it clean?” You ask, your voice containing barely concealed rage as your nails dig into your sleeves. His jaw clenches as he shrugs one shoulder.
“A week. A month. A year. It could be any amount of time. They have new machines that they’ve been using—new means to rip open our nation to reach its heart.” He scoffs and turns sharply. “Fucking humans. Why did they need to come here to begin with? We were fine before they came crawling onto our shores, with their bitching, and moaning, and noxious fucking machines!”
“Lilia.” Your voice is calmer as he feels your hand touch his arm. His fury simmers slightly under this action. “At least we’re gaining some ground against them, right? And they haven’t reached all of Briar Nation yet. I can still provide game and herbs to the neighbouring villages—there’s an abundance surrounding my cottage.”
Lilia wants to say that’s because all of the animals are being driven deeper into the woods, but he holds his tongue as he meets your steadfast gaze. In the period of time since he’s come to know you, he’s also realized that your stubbornness will have you refuting every claim with an optimistic one of your own. Already you had staunchly refused to leave your cottage despite the looming threat drawing ever so nearby.
“I need to go soon.” He finally sighs as he tears his gaze away from you to the pond again. He hasn’t seen this pond since the war era simply because he knows it was drained for the Silver Owls' use. He hears your own sigh slip out as you remove your hand. The skin that you touched aches in its absence.
He steals a glance at you and tries to preserve your side-profile in his mind. If he could, he would carve it onto every surface he possessed, marking every line and bump that comprised the masterpiece that is you to his liking. He has already devoted himself by this point to mapping these curves with his fingers under the shadow of Briar Nations endless nights. He has memorized every sound you make, as sweet as any song can be, and which places on your body elicit such music. You had both entered this dance as a means to release stress—but now, four hundred years later, he knows it meant so much more.
He wants to sweep you in his arms. He wants to pull you to safety, to silence your protests with hushed whispers and utterances of his devotion. He wants to pour his heart into your hands until he’s empty and belonging entirely to you. He is a man who, once he devotes himself to something, gives endlessly until he remains a ghost of who he once was.
He loves you in this moment, where the sun dapples your skin, and he can pretend he’s still in the Briar Nation he knew. So, he breaks conduct again.
“You should leave.” The memory wavers at his words. In the past, he had simply turned at this point to begin returning to your cottage so that he could ready his travel pack. “You should go to the next village over. Go somewhere safe.”
The memory wavers again, fraying along the edges, and yet still Lilia finds himself persevering. “Please. I don’t want to see what’s going to happen next.”
You turn to look at him as his vision begins to darken. Your brow furrows, confusion etching your face as the last words you speak feel like a nail in his own coffin.
“Lilia, this is my home.”
_________________________________________________________
He doesn’t immediately speak as he comes back again. The clock shows forty-five minutes have passed now, and the lighting in the bedroom he sits in has altered to reflect this. A numbness has crept into his body and settled just below his skin. It fluctuates and writhes like an insect and causes him to shiver as he rotates the box once more.
The last carving is incomplete. The black marks that mar its surface guarantee this. Faintly, he can smell smoke on both the box and his hands as he traces his thumb across this, as well.
It comes back filthy.
Lilia’s expression schools itself to a blank look as the silence of the empty cottage perpetuates. Only his breathing breaks the still air, stuttering slightly as his lips part.
“... far cry cradle.”
_________________________________________________________
Lilia can smell it before he sees it. Wood, smouldering in the unforgiving winter sun, accompanied by something more pungent and feral. He’s already running by the time he snaps into the memory, his feet dragging through heavy snow as he fights against the elements to reach the treeline. He can see dark smoke pluming upwards.
It’s always too late by the time he arrives.
His steps slow, his feet drawing to a stop as cold snow soaks through his pants. Before him lays a painting of carnage, crafted by human hands, and displayed for the eyes of any fae passing by. Footsteps trample in the aged snow that surrounds the smouldering husk of the structure. Your words regarding your cottage being in a hot spot for game and herbs ring as a mockery now in his ears as he slowly, slowly, inches closer.
“Hello?” His voice cracks as the words leave him. The forest echoes them back—hello? Hello? Hello?
Stone dust scatters across the white earth as his hand comes to touch the frame you had been so proud of when you had first shown it off. Burnt, with embers still smouldering in the wood. He feels afraid to step further, but he knows that if he doesn’t then he’ll never get the satisfaction of knowing whether you may have survived it or not.
Lilia passes through the door frame. He looks up to what remains of your roof, to the space where sunflowers once hung, and then just beyond the large wooden table you had carved for yourself as well. A small box sits perfectly on its blackened surface, like it had been placed on display intentionally for his discovery.
The memory begins to blur at this point. Things that should be there soon bleed into black outlines, dripping down onto the floor with a rhythmic thump. He can see static in what looks like the shape of an arm peeking out from behind the table leg as his stomach twists, and rage begins to flood through his veins in place of blood. A stuttering breath leaves him as the static arm remains still.
He is General Lilia Vanrouge. He is a soldier. He is meant to protect his people, and yet, and yet—
_________________________________________________________
Lilia snaps out of this memory by throwing the box to the floor. It clatters at his outburst before he kicks it viciously into the closet, his breath leaving him in ragged gasps as he does. His mind is a blur as his one hand grips the sheets beneath him and the other grabs his collar, trying to ground him in the moment before the whole world spins out of proportion.
He is not General Lilia Vanrouge. He is not a soldier. He is not walking into the home of the person he thought he loved, forced to bury what was left of them in a pauper's grave—just another loss in the wartime.
He is a man, sitting in his cottage, with a son who will be home by evening and a school he needs to pack for.
“Fuck,” he groans, pressing his face into his hands as he shakes himself free of the thoughts. “Fuck... fuck!”
A brief glance at the clock shows an hour has passed by now. His chest feels heavy, and his mind full of cotton as he dresses in a mechanical manner before going about his chores for the day.
By the time Silver returns, he’s fought off the quails, weeded the garden, cut firewood, and cleared the gutters. What he hasn’t done is clean the mug that’s been sitting in the sink since the morning—a task that Silver happily takes on after Lilia looks close to losing it.
If his son notices anything else off about his father, he says nothing about it, but Lilia does note the way Silver seems a bit more talkative than usual this evening. Lilia’s mind continues to replay the memories he experienced in a macabre theatrical viewing as he tries hard to listen to what Silver is saying. Eventually, they both fall silent as Silver washes the mug, along with the dishes from dinner in addition. The sun is beginning to set when he pauses to peer out the window with a curious expression.
“Did you see the sunflower in the garden?” Silver asks, his voice soft as he finishes drying off the mug. Lilia raises an eyebrow as he looks up again.
“What about it?”
“It opened up.” Silver looks surprised, and then delighted as a smile graces his face. Lilia’s eyes widen as he notes the similarities between the childish joy on his son's face, and that which he once saw on your own.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
#lilia vanrouge#lilia x reader#(ish)#twst#twst x reader#twst fanfiction#twst spoilers#yeah#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst lilia#phew ok girlies i think that hits it#anyway went off kinda... oop
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