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wife-of-all-dilfs · 8 months

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pretty fixation, wicked temptation | b. blake

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summary: season six - one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep made both you and bellamy crave each other’s touch, but you need a place to satisfy your urges without disruption. perhaps a new planet would do the trick. and what better way to heighten the anticipation than with a little challenge?

warnings: porn with plot, sexual crying??, teasing/taunting, mild gore, mild exhibitionism, murphy being a cockblock, mild size kink, mild bdsm, begging

note: this is the first one-shot/smut I’ve ever written so I kinda went overboard, but I promise it’s worth it in the end. you can imagine a different season of bellamy if you want (fuck you) but I personally think he’s extremely hot in season 6.

word count: 16.7k

“…I hope your lives there will be as happy as mine has been,” an aged Monty spoke on the monitor. “Be the good guys. May we meet again.”

You stared out the window of Eligius IV in awe, arms crossed over your chest whilst taking in the view of the planet you would soon call home. Plant Alpha. A place where, hopefully, everyone could find redemption. For you, it would be a place where you would find peace with your friends and family. And your boyfriend, Bellamy Blake.

“I know this is a lot to process,” Bellamy’s deep voice spoke to the group. “Take an hour, and then meet in the mess. We need to game this out.”

A few people in the room had a short dispute, but you tuned out their bickering, gaze locked on the view outside. Everyone began to disperse, leaving the room to gather their thoughts about what the future held for the last remnants of humanity. Everyone but you and Bellamy.

Your vision shifted from focusing on Planet Alpha to watching Bellamy walk towards you in the window’s reflection. He had changed drastically since the day you and the other Ark prisoners were sent to the ground. His body was broader, and more muscular due to the unrelenting battles he fought on Earth. His arms were bigger, stronger, and probably capable of carrying the weight of two people at once. And his hands, god, his hands—they were your ultimate weakness. They were much bigger compared to your own; his fingers were thicker and longer as well, and the things he could do with them… indescribable.

He now had a short, dark beard that circled his mouth and sparsely covered the sides of his jaw. You always loved the way it tickled your face whenever he kissed you and when it rubbed against your inner thighs whilst he went down on you.

What had changed the most was his mentality, which somehow made you fall even deeper in love with him. Bellamy Blake may have been twenty-three when you first met him, but he was then still just a boy. Now, he was a man.

“You okay?” he asked, his arm snaking around your waist as his towering frame stood beside you.

Leaning into his body, you both soaked in the rays of the two suns shining through the ship’s window.

“Just hoping we don’t make the same mistakes we did back on Earth,” you spoke. “There are a lot of people on this ship in need of a second chance.”

Bellamy chuckled. “Yeah. More like a fifth chance.”

You smiled, humming in agreement.

“This time will be different,” he continued, eyes narrowed at the planet in front of them. “We can’t keep making the same mistakes without learning from them. We won’t have bombs, or missiles, or war. I’ll make sure of it; if not for the last of humanity, then for you.”

You turned your head to look at him. Such a softie.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?” You reached one of your crossed arms across your torso and rested it on his which was cupping your waist.

In response, Bellamy’s hold tightened just a little bit more, causing your heart to fumble from the affectionate gesture. “On a few occasions.”

However short the one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep felt to your mind, your body could feel the effects of lacking physical touch for such a long time. Bellamy’s touch. Apparently, he felt the exact same way.

“I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in over a century.” His voice became soft. He turned your body to face him with his back now facing the window. Dark brown eyes gazed down at you with an intensity only he could create, sending a sudden desire to let him absolutely ravage you right where you stood. His free hand reached up to your face and gently stroked the side of your cheek, the other now caressing the exposed skin of your waist. “Or touched you.”

Closing your eyes, you focused on the areas in which his skin connected with yours. Having been in a relationship with him for a few years, his touch became a familiar sensation. Despite that, on a purely physical level, your body had forgotten the pleasure-filled heights to which he could take you. Everything seemed new again, like the very first time he touched you.

And no matter the fact that time in cryosleep seemed like it passed instantaneously, neither of you could deny the obvious pining your bodies felt for one another.

You stepped closer, hands moving to rest on his chest. The distance between your bodies closed and you whispered, “Or felt me.”

His hands stilled, realising what you had meant. He leaned backwards, enough to get a good view of the look in your eyes. It was something deep and hungry for release. Sure, you’ve both had sex plenty of times; you’ve fucked rough and fast, made love sweet and slow—however many other variations there were, you’d done it—but Bellamy had never seen your desire for him appear as powerful as this.

Your eyes were swirling with a dark passion, like rolling waves in desperate need of a crest. Your cheeks were flushed, pupils so dilated your irises were almost obscured, and lips reddened and becoming plump even despite having made no contact with his own yet. It was no doubt a mirror of what you were feeling inside.

He took in a long deep breath, eyebrows furrowed as he took in your appearance, trying to steady his heartbeat which was raging out of control. You looked so beautiful. All the blood in his body drained to the lower half of him, leaving him light-headed and fuzzy, lust being the only thing to fill the contents of his mind. Bellamy could never stop lusting after you, he had just learned to control it. A one-hundred-year wait seemed like a perfectly acceptable reason to let loose a little.

“Fuck,” was all he said before his lips came crashing down onto yours.

It didn’t start slow, but rather fast and desperate. So desperate. Even so, your mouth moved in sync with his, alternating between sucking in quick breaths of air, kissing his soft yet rough lips, and allowing him to run his tongue over your own. Your hands moved up into his pushed-back hair, fingers delving between his brown waves to give a small tug, pulling a groan from inside him that buzzed against your lips.

He pulled you closer to his body with strong arms wrapped around your back, the sensitivity between your thighs coming into contact with his hardness. The material of your pants rubbing against you only enhanced the shiver-inducing sensation.

You reigned your focus back onto his lips. His mouth was hot against yours, unrelenting, catching your lips with his between each frantic breath of air. His tongue rolled over your own, so intricate and possessive as it pushed into your mouth.

Before you knew it, his hands had moved to the backs of your thighs and lifted you into his arms; your lips never disconnected. This was a movement you had both performed many times, so it wasn’t done without skill. He took a few steps forward before placing you on the control bench behind you. You hoped there were no important buttons beneath you that would cause End of Humanity 4.0.

His mouth moved from yours and down to your jaw, cupping his hand on the side of your neck to keep your head steady. You couldn’t tell if it was a moan or a sigh that escaped you. Maybe it was a mix of both, but whatever it was, it egged him on further. He had moved down to your neck, sucking and nipping at the soft, delicate skin. This time you were sure it was a moan you let out.

He curled his hand around your neck just below your jaw, careful not to apply too much pressure, but just enough to remain in control. He loved to be in control; he also knew how much you enjoyed it too. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him, how he could dominate you without an ounce of effort.

Your legs and his were in between one another like two puzzle pieces fit together, his knee between your thighs and pressing against your clit without him even realising it. Grabbing onto his shoulders for support, you pushed yourself further onto his knee, beginning to grind yourself against him as he continued to press kisses to your neck.

“Eager, huh?” his voice vibrated against your skin.

Now he knew.

Having realised what you were doing, he pushed further onto you, heightening the pressure as you rolled your hips against him. Your head fell back. It had been so long since your body had experienced such pleasure; you knew it wouldn’t take much to reach climax. Not that it mattered. It always took you both a few rounds before you were too exhausted to move anymore. Sometimes, even fatigue couldn’t stop you two.

After deciding enough damage was done to your neck, he returned to your mouth, this time slower and more sensual.

You could have easily come undone the way you were going, grinding yourself against him but knew it would be nothing compared to the release given by his hands. Greedy as you were, you wanted—needed—more, and you knew he would never deny such a request. Your satisfaction was his own after all.

“Bellamy,” you breathed against his lips. “Touch me.”

His forehead came to rest against your own, he too breathless from the heat of the situation.

“Didn’t know you were into exhibitionism, princess,” he spoke lowly with a smirk.

“Who said I was?”

“Well, technically, we have a whole world watching us.”

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin stretching across your lips only to be intersected by a short gasp as you felt his hand slip through the waistband of your pants and press against your clit.

The second you felt his fingers apply pressure and begin to move, the door to the room burst open.

“Hey, you guys need… Jesus Christ!”

Bellamy’s hand left you quicker than it came, or quicker than you came to be more exact. The both of you jumped up from your positions and turned to see Murphy standing at the door, eyes squeezed shut.

“You ever heard of knocking, Murphy,” Bellamy grumbled.

“It’s the fucking comms room!” he complained. “Just–we need you guys out in the mess hall. Now. Oh my god.”

He made quick work of leaving the room, mumbling something about rather having a missile dropped on him than ever having to witness that again.

You looked at Bellamy who seemed to share the same flustered state as you.

He blew out a stabilising breath and placed a hand behind your back. “Come on, we should see what they want.”

Still slightly trembling, you nodded, allowing him to guide the both of you out of the room as you attempted to fix your dishevelled hair. After walking together down a few hallways in tense silence, you both reached the mess hall to see the group sitting around a table, discussing something quietly among themselves. Among them was Murphy, who overdramatically shuddered at the sight of you two.

Before you could walk over, Bellamy grabbed your upper arm, leaning down until his hair brushed against your temple and he whispered, “I’m not done with you.”

He slid past you and walked towards everyone else, acting casual as they all burst into conversation. A minute or two passed until you had regained enough composure to join the group.

**********

It had been about two hours since the incident in the comms room. A plan had been set in place regarding their journey to the ground. One minute, you were safe and sound on Eligius IV, and the next, you and a small group were descending into the atmosphere of Planet Alpha in a ship.

There was a giant, wall-length window on the front of the ship that revealed the outside surroundings once you dipped below the clouds. This world was… otherworldly. Literally. The largest sun bathed the world in a constant orange glow, and the surface was covered in an abundance of vibrant green trees that sat atop various hills and rocky snow-covered mountains. All the clouds were a light orange; the sky was more pink and orange than blue. It was like they had entered a landscape painting depicting heaven.

Everyone seemed to share the same look of astonishment.

Shaw turned in his seat to face everyone. “Boys and girls, meet Planet Alpha.”

With a shudder, the ship finally planted itself on the ground, the machine hum cutting off as the rockets stopped firing. Belt buckles clicked as everybody stood from their seats, moving in front of the door, awaiting its opening. You looked beside you to see Bellamy with that same tiny grin he had the first time they opened the dropship doors. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. Technically, it was well over a lifetime ago.

He pulled down the lever and the door began to fall open. A gust of breathable fresh air wafted in your face and you inhaled deeply. It was sweet and unpolluted. Everyone remained still as they took in the incredible scenery. There were no words to describe it.

“Anyone got anything better than ‘we’re back bitches’?” Miller jested.

“Yeah,” you spoke. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.”

There were a few chuckles, a few sentimental words exchanged, along with a few heated words spoken between Shaw and Clarke. Some people were still upset over her betrayal back on Earth. What they were yet to realise was that this was not Earth, this was someplace new, a place for second chances and new beginnings.

They were supposed to be looking for a beacon that depicted a safe place for them to take up residence. Shaw, along with his tracking device, began heading in the beacon’s direction and soon enough everyone else followed suit.

You took a few moments for yourself to take in the surroundings and silently thank Monty and Harper for their sacrifice. A bittersweet smile sat on your lips and a single tear slipped down your cheek. A Garden of Eden this was, and they’d be damned if they let another serpent in.

Without even realising it, Bellamy had stood beside you, his arm wrapping around your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head.

“We’ll do better this time,” he reassured as if he could read your mind.

You turned your head and pressed a quick kiss to his shoulder.

His eyes crinkled as a soft smile grew on his lips. “Come on, let's catch up to the others.”

And so, you did.

Following Bellamy until you caught up with the rest of the group, you began the journey to the beacon, trekking through the new and undisturbed forest. Though it was beautiful, you still had a lingering fear of what might lurking in the thick clusters of trees. Maybe there were Grounders here too. At least they were human beings with actual consciences. This was an entirely new planet in an entirely new solar system so there could be animals or beings they had never encountered before.

All you could do was pray you weren’t on the bottom of the food chain.

An hour or two passed before the forest began to thin out and give way to a lake of pristine blue water surrounded by overlooking mountains.

“Looks like we found a water source,” Bellamy spoke as they stepped onto the tan sand. “We’ll camp here tonight and continue on at first light.”

They were confronted wave after wave with the planet’s beauty without end. It almost seemed too perfect. As everyone was distracted by the new view, Murphy began walking towards the water, removing a piece of clothing with each step, completely disregarding the fact that he had healing bullet holes on his body.

You stepped forward to stop him just as the others did. “Murphy, wait, your–”

He glanced back at you, cutting your sentence off. “Comms room!”

That shut you up, as well as causing your face to redden intensely.

Clarke stepped beside you, watching as Murphy took off his shirt and stepped into the water, diving beneath the surface. “What was that about?”

“Uh, nothing.” You side-eyed Bellamy who was shifting his weight, clearly uncomfortable.

Soon enough, Murphy had resurfaced, his wounds bleeding and turning the water around him a faint rust colour. Not that he cared.

“Come on in, the water’s fine!” he shouted.

Emori was next to enter the water, though not entirely at her own will. It was nice to see her and Murphy enjoying themselves, but who said they could have all the fun?

Without a second thought, you unclipped your backpack and dropped it to the ground, tying your hair into a low bun with the band on your wrist. You lifted your long-sleeve shirt over your head, leaving you only in your low-cut tank top. You had thought it would have been Bellamy who was first to notice, except it was Clarke whose eyes were now trained on your chest.

Brows raised, you motioned to your eyes with two fingers. “Eyes up here, Clarke.”

She cleared her throat and mumbled an apology, focusing back on Emori and Murphy.

You walked over to Bellamy, standing beside him as he watched the scene in front of him. His attention quickly shifted to you as your hip brushed against his hand.

“What d’you say, Blake?” You unbuttoned your jeans, pushing them down to your ankles and stepping out. “Up for a swim?”

His lips parted as he stared down at your half-naked figure. Before he had a chance to answer, you were making your way down to the water with a tantalising grin. You were nothing if not a tease and he knew that firsthand. A little extra sway in your hips was all it took for him to start removing his own backpack and undressing his upper body.

The water had reached up to your hips before a pair of hands abruptly grabbed onto your waist. A short shriek escaped your throat before you were tackled beneath the water. Resurfacing, you wiped the water from your eyes, coming face-to-face with an amused Bellamy.

“Asshole!” You attempted to push his chest, but he didn’t budge, instead, he wrapped his arms around your waist again and began dragging you both further out.

“So easily riled up,” he teased with a smirk.

Sighing defeatedly, you leaned into his grasp, allowing him to keep you both afloat. Bellamy could just touch the lake floor, so you knew if he let you go, you would be drowning. Swimming wasn’t exactly anyone’s strong suit, so you just hoped you hadn’t done anything previously to piss him off.

Your legs curled around his torso. At first, the action was innocent, but then you realised that the little performance you made on the beach had consequences. Hard consequences that he seemed to be very aware of. Eyes blown wide with surprise, you squeezed your legs around his hips, grounding yourself onto him.

He grunted softly, tightening his hold on you. “You do that again and I won’t care if everyone is watching.”

The deep sense of possession enveloped in his voice sent warm tingles running down your spine, replacing the coldness of the water surrounding your body. Knowing him, he probably wasn’t lying either, especially given both of your rising desires for each other. For a split second, you were ready to test the legitimacy of his threat, but rationality was quick to jump in.

As you loosened your hold around him, you were unsure whether the look he gave you was of praise or displeasure. If you couldn’t do that, then you would at least take advantage of the opportunity for another type of intimacy.

Placing a hand on either side of his jaw, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his which he was quick to reciprocate. Droplets of fresh water dripped from the wet strands across his forehead, mixing between your skin and his, and alleviating the heat of each other’s desire.

His hands ran up and down your back underneath your saturated tank top, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake. Over and over, you kissed him and then you’d take a split second to get some air. It quickly became a pattern yet each time your lips met became more and more exhilarating.

The moment was rapidly becoming more fervent with each passing second. Soon enough, you were clinging onto each other, the water rippling from your bodies moving ever-so-slightly against one another to create some kind of friction. You could hear Bellamy’s breathing become quick and uneven, just like your own. You could feel his tongue glide across your bottom lip as if to knock before entering. And just before you could let him in, you were pulled apart…

“Hey. Hey! None of that shit,” Murphy demanded from a distance.

Bellamy pulled away first, visibly frustrated as he turned his head to your interrupter.

You simply pinched the bridge of your nose and groaned, one hand still holding onto his shoulder.

“Shut up, Murphy!” you and Bellamy shouted in unison.

Even Emori was quick to come to your aid. “Come on, John, they were just kissing.”

“You haven’t seen the things I’ve seen,” you heard him murmur to her.

**********

The sky was blanketed in darkness long after the two suns dipped below the horizon. Insects were chirping, a small fire was crackling in the centre of the group, and tiny waves were cresting on the shore. You were leaning against a log of driftwood, legs extended in front of you as you gazed at the giant, ringed planet in the sky, its purple and pink hue reflecting on the lake’s surface.

Peace. Or so it would have been if not for the chaos running rampant in your mind.

Bellamy’s lips. Bellamy’s hands. Bellamy’s fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut. Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy–

A loud pop from the fire sounded which startled you from your thoughts.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the camp. Everybody else seemed to be in their own little worlds too, unable to shake the incredulity of knowing they were now on an alien planet. Clarke was on her back, gazing up at the foreign sky above; Jackson was enthusing about the unfamiliar wildlife. Echo simply admired the tall mountains that encompassed the lake, an expression of gratitude reflecting on her face. You would feel the same way too if your hormones weren’t raging like that of a teenage boy’s.

To add fuel to the fire—quite literally—Bellamy was bent over the flames, cyan blue sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and feeding more wood to the blaze. His dark curls were pushed back from his face apart from a few stray strands. His skin was shining from the humidity, sending your mind spiralling into a visualisation of the times he was on top of you, all sweaty and hitting that eye-rolling spot inside of you over and over.

You sighed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. This was ridiculous; he was your boyfriend and yet every time he was near, your body responded to him like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Something on your mind?”

He had sat down beside you, your shoulders now pushed up against one another.

More like ‘someone’, you thought.

“Nope.” You crossed your legs over one another, thighs squeezing together in the hopes of providing some kind of relief. You couldn’t even bear to look at him, afraid that your willpower would come crumbling to ruins. “No thoughts up here.”

Bellamy eyed your visibly flustered state, one cocky eyebrow raised.

His hand moved onto your leg. “Liar. I know your tells. And this,” he murmured whilst squeezing the inner plush of your thigh, “is one of them.”

Finally, your gaze met his, almost like you were in a standoff. He knew how much you were suffering. Mostly because he was too.

“Bellamy,” you warned.

He turned back to the fire, slowly kneading your inner thigh. “I’ve been thinking…”

“Uh oh.”

The flickering flames reflecting in his dark brown irises turned them a blazing orange but did nothing to alleviate the darkness that was sitting just behind his eyes. Taunting him probably wasn’t the brightest idea at that moment.

Then again, it also held the potential to be a fantastic idea. You knew how he got when pushed to his limits.

“Seems like we can’t go five minutes without being interrupted,” he began, curling his hand around your thigh. “So, I figured we may as well turn it into a challenge.”

“A challenge?” you asked, moving your hand on top of his and taking control.

He nodded.

Slowly, you began to guide his hand further up your thigh, inch by inch. As expected, he showed no resistance. You could even see the imprint on the front of his pants which were now tight for the third time that day. “And what exactly does this challenge involve?”

As you got closer to the destination you craved most, your movements became slower, and more delayed, contrasting to the increasing pace of your chest rising and falling. Your shoulders pushed back against the driftwood, your body reclining just a tiny bit further as you stared up at him, lips parted.

Bellamy watched his hand travel beneath your own, completely transfixed. “We, uh, see who can last longer without…” he trailed off as your thighs clamped tighter around him.

The side of his hand brushed against your clit through the material of your pants and your breath hitched. Thank god everyone else was too distracted to notice the situation unfolding before them. The fire was probably doing you both some favours as well.

“Without…?” you coaxed him on.

You pressed him firmer against you, rolling your hips in small circles to create the sensation you’d been longing for. He didn’t move, only allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. The muscles in your stomach flexed as tingles quickly spread across the lower half of your body, from your toes to beneath Bellamy’s hand. You’d give anything to let him give you your release then and there, but you knew an audience wasn’t exactly favourable.

That didn’t mean you couldn’t enjoy the build-up.

God, Bellamy was right. You really were into exhibitionism.

By the way his brows were pulled together and his eyes looked almost pained, you swore he was about to come undone just at the sight of you.

He clenched his jaw and managed to ground out, “Without touching each other.”

Your eyes flickered between his, showing no sign of stopping your movements even when he finally managed to get out his explanation. You slightly bucked your hips forward, pulling him in further to which he inhaled sharply. Truth be told, Bellamy was the most stubborn person you had ever met, excluding his sister, Octavia. But there was one thing that could overrule Bellamy’s unwavering resolve, and that was you. Hell, on multiple occasions all you had to do was ask and he would be on his knees, mouth between your thighs in the blink of an eye, so he should have known the minute he announced his little game, you had already won.

“Okay,” you whispered with an innocent smile.

Within seconds, you had shot up onto your feet, now hovering over him.

Instinctively, he too moved into a standing position as if under threat. He stood so close that your torso was nearly touching his.

“What are you doing?” He leaned in close, voice low to prevent attracting any attention from the others.

“Um, winning?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, right. I’ve gone over a century without you; I can last a little longer.”

You took one step closer until you were flush against him. How could you not? It’s not like he’d expect you to make it easy on him.

“Only a little? Oh, come on Blake, have a bit of faith in yourself. You can last longer than that.” You looked him up and down. “I would know.”

He peered down at you, eyes half-lidded, and hummed a chuckle, one that was meant to say, ‘You are in way over your head, princess’. Maybe you were or maybe he was. What you both knew for sure was how the game was going to end, and despite your determination to win, that moment couldn’t come soon enough.

His body left yours and he backed away, a smug smirk resting on his face. He retreated over to Murphy and Emori, sitting on the log beside them and began engaging in their conversation.

You turned to face the fire, letting out a shaky breath you were hoping he couldn’t hear. It had become quiet now, the surrounding area seemed different compared to just a few minutes prior, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. The small waves were still rolling onto the shore; the campfire was still crackling.

Something was missing.

You scanned the area for anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.

“Ow!”

Your eyes snapped to the sudden voice. Clarke was sitting on a plank of wood, rubbing the back of her neck with her brows furrowed together.

Walking over, you sat on a log adjacent to her. “What happened?”

“Oh, just got bit by a bug.” She gestured to the dead insect lying on the wood beside her.

It had big, round eyes, and wings like a fly. Wouldn’t have been a cause for concern if it weren’t the size of your palm and had a tail like a scorpion.

“Some bug.”

That’s when you realised—all the insects had stopped chirping.

Almost on command, Jackson and Miller stumbled over to the campfire, gaining everyone’s attention as Jackson rambled on about how he had captured the same bug in a glass jar and its behaviour had randomly become erratic. People began rising from their seats and crowding to watch the insect smash itself against the glass. Clarke and you shared a concerned look.

The air, which once was silent and peaceful, began to buzz like you were all surrounded by a cluster of beehives. Reality was much worse.

“What the hell is that?” Emori spoke.

As if to answer her question, the sky suddenly filled with hundreds, no, thousands of winged insects, which seemed to follow each other in groups that formed large patterns in the air. You were willing to bet your life on them being the same as the one that bit Clarke. Great—man-eating bugs.

“Swarm.”

“Everybody cover up! We’re heading to the beacon now!” Bellamy commanded.

You snatched your backpack from the ground, pulling out a black cotton scarf before slinging the bag straps over your shoulders. Not long passed before the others did the same and you were all running for your lives through the dense thicket of trees. Branches snagged on your clothes, shredding them to bits as you struggled not to run face-first into a tree. You wouldn’t be the first to do it, though…. Murphy.

Your breathing was becoming irregular as your body pushed to its limits. As awful as it sounded, when Emori tripped over a fallen branch and the group had to stop and help her, you praised the lord. Everyone huddled together, the bugs now surrounding the group, flying past and leaving bite marks on your bodies. Luckily, Clarke had the idea to light a flare.

“They hate fire! Light the flares!” she shouted.

Someone came running toward you from where Emori had tripped, placing a hand on each of your upper arms. Upon seeing their eyes, you knew it was Bellamy. He wordlessly scanned your features for any wounds, his gaze a mixture of concentration and worry. You nodded as if to tell him you were alright, and he did the same.

After the ten seconds you were provided to catch your breath passed, you were on the move again, the flares now protecting the group from the swarm. The trees were becoming less and less, and the ground under your feet had turned into a wide gravel path that ended at a large field of crops surrounded by metal rod towers.

You continued running forward, following the others as the field grew closer. In front was Shaw, who was multi-tasking between tracking the beacon on his device and leading the group to safety.

“Here! The beacon’s here!” he shouted.

Just as he passed through the towers that bordered the crop field, a bolt of what looked like lightning struck him. He was sent flying back into the group with a yell, landing at your feet.

“Shaw!” You crouched down, observing the minor burns that were littered across his cheeks and forehead.

He groaned, pulling himself back onto his feet with your assistance. “I’m alright.”

Jackson rushed to his side, immediately pulling out his med pack and assessing his wounds. The damage wasn’t lethal but if they couldn’t find a way to get through to the other side, they would have more to be worried about than burnt flesh.

Clarke was already searching for an answer to their escape and once again, she found it.

“It’s radiation.” She looked around as the bugs began to circle them, blocking their long-distance view. “We need to get through. It won’t affect me.”

Before anyone could stop her, she was running through the shield-like fence.

“Clarke, wait!”

“Get back here!”

To everyone’s surprise, she made it out the other side without a scratch. But how was everyone else supposed to get through without Nightblood?

You felt a warm hand slip into your own, offering a small amount of comfort. You didn’t need to look to know whose it belonged.

“Clarke, the tower—its Eligius tech. You need the failsafe code to turn off the shield!” Shaw yelled out. “Four-seven-eight-one-five!”

Exhaling a sigh of relief, you squeezed Bellamy’s hand. There’s a failsafe code.

Clarke rushed to one of the metal towers, opened the control panel and punched in the code. The energy sources atop each tower dissipated, signalling the shield's termination.

“It’s down! Come on!”

Murphy was the first to pass through, dragging Emori behind him. Copying his actions, Bellamy tugged you forward, the both of you passing through the towers together. Once everyone made it through, Clarke powered up the defence again, causing the swarm of insects to disintegrate upon meeting the shield’s radiation bolts.

No one said a word. Instead, they used the time to catch their breaths, some laying on the ground and others dropping to their knees. You tugged the covering off your head and placed your hands on your thighs for support. Multiple strands of hair fell around your face as you bent over, trying to replace the air your lungs lost, a few strings of curses spilling out in between.

Bellamy, who was so inconceivably fit that his breathing was already slow and even, placed a hand on your shoulder. “You okay?”

Lifting a shaky arm from your leg, you gave him the thumbs up.

He tenderly massaged your shoulder and scanned the group to make sure everyone else was alright.

“What the hell was that?” Echo huffed.

**********

Night cycles on Planet Alpha operated very differently compared to Earth—darkness held the sky for a good five hours before the two suns rose again, much unlike the twelve hours everyone was accustomed to back on Earth. That and this planet sent man-eating swarms of insects whenever night fell. Or so you assumed.

The suns peaked through the distant treetops; orange beams of light were spread across the fields you had walked. A few hours had gone by since you first stepped through the radiation shields. A few hours of walking got you and the others atop a small mountain that seemed to be centred within the large circle of towers, providing a good bird's eye view of the fields of crops below.

You continued trekking up the well-trodden path on the hill, Bellamy and Clarke on either side of you. The last time you interacted with Bellamy was when you entered the protected area, but since then, you had avoided eye contact, physical touch, and conversation. You knew yourself; one wrong move and you would lose his game. Despite almost being eaten alive, you were still determined to stick to the rules, and even though innocent affection and conversation were allowed, you didn’t want to risk it.

Plus, total avoidance would only make him crave you more—the basic rule of men, unfortunately.

Emori walked a few steps in front of the group, her movements quickening as they reached a rounded corner. “Guys, look. Stairs.”

Orange-brick stairs came into view and you watched as Emori began ascending them, everyone else following behind her. You climbed up the stairs, Bellamy ahead of you by a step or two. Not for long though. Your pace increased until you were shoulder-to-shoulder, but only for a split second before you placed a hand on his bicep, dragging your palm across as you moved a few steps ahead of him. You could hear his breath hitch and a small smirk teased the corner of your lips. Now he was the one behind you—how he usually liked it.

If you weren’t going to interact with him, the least you could do was give him a good view.

Once you reached the top of the stairs, everyone stood side-by-side, taking in the view in front of them. It was incredible. It was like all the beauty on that planet had been condensed, thrown into a single area and turned into a village. That was what it was—a village. Plus, a castle?

“They have a castle,” Murphy said in wonder.

It looked like something from medieval times crossed with The Hobbit. The windows were circular and made of multi-coloured glass panes. The structure was made of bricks and rounded towers with various intricate patterns decorating different areas, and two round staircases curving up to a second-level balcony. It was so striking it had to have belonged to some divine being because no one else could have deserved such a beautiful palace. Well, there was one exception.

You glanced at Bellamy whose face was lit up with the brightest grin you had ever seen as he too let the beauty sink in. Your heart skipped a beat and you had to turn away. So, you turned to Murphy.

“Perfect for you, Murphy,” you jested. “King of the cockroaches.”

“Careful. Roaches bite, you know,” he retorted

You raised your hands in faux fear.

Clarke stepped forward. “Come on. Let’s see if anyone’s home.”

Most of the buildings looked modern and were made of glass and coloured wood or shipping containers, surrounded and covered by different types of flora. Flowers were not in short supply there, that was for sure; every garden held a new and exotic type. Even the pond in the middle of the village had flowers in it. There were coloured banners everywhere as well—some that hung from each building, and some that were standalone's. The suns’ light just made everything seem so much more vibrant and enchanting.

You and the others were going door-to-door, knocking on each one to see if anyone was there. So far, you had no luck, if that’s even what it was. Almost every home had been checked, but there was no one. The last house to be checked came by and apparently Murphy ran out of patience for simple pleasantries. He kicked the front doors open.

“Well, look at that.” He turned to the group. “This one’s unlocked.”

He stepped inside and began rummaging through the owner’s belongings, not that it surprised anyone very much. You watched as he bent over and picked up something that looked like a neck cuff connected to chains on a wall.

“Hm. Kinky.” He turned back to the group with a devious grin on his face. His eyes flickered between you and Bellamy. “Any takers?”

He gestured between the two of you with the chains as if he were offering them. Oh, you were so tempted to pull a knife on him.

Your eyes went wide, and Bellamy almost choked on his own breath. All eyes were now on you and him.

You took off in the opposite direction before anyone could say a word. “I’m–I’m gonna find a change of clothes.”

It was a perfectly reasonable excuse to leave anyway. Your clothes were practically threadbare from the rough escape through the forest. Thankfully, you could hear the group begin talking about something completely unrelated before you were out of hearing distance. You weren’t sure where you were headed in particular. Anywhere that wasn’t near Murphy or Bellamy would suffice.

You didn’t want to be apart from Bellamy at all. Quite the opposite. You wanted him. You wanted his hands to roam all over your body, to feel his arms tight around your waist as he thrust deep inside you from beneath, and to have his name dripping from your tongue as he made it impossible for you to distinguish the meaning between the words ‘love’ and ‘lust’.

(If only you knew that he was suffering the exact same way.)

However, his ego was much too inflated for you to let him win. It was a sacrifice for the greater good. The greater good being not having to constantly listen to him tease you for losing in the future. But as time went on and your body started physically reacting to the separation, losing started to seem like not such a terrible idea. You were conflicted. Give in, or push on? The decision was painfully frustrating and also just downright painful.

While amidst your thoughts, your feet had carried you to the opposite side of the village until you were standing outside a dark red-wooded house. Covering the poles that held up the structure’s second story were apple blossoms. “Let’s not bite the apple this time.” That was the first thing you had said after stepping onto the ground—a reference to the story of Adam and Eve. Now here you were, contemplating handing yourself over to desire. A literal bite of the apple.

You shook your head, pulling down the door handle to the red house and it opened. Locks didn’t exist in this place it seemed. Stepping inside, you noticed several cardboard boxes on the ground both opened and unopened. There was furnishing such as couches, bookcases, a round glass dining table, and leather seats, but they were all scattered across the room and half had white sheets covering them. It looked like the owner had just been moving in.

As you assessed the room, you noticed a floor-length mirror attached to one of the walls, so naturally, you moved yourself in front of it. The reflection did not match the person you were before leaving Eligius IV. Your bun wasn’t even a bun anymore; half of it had fallen out whilst the other struggled to stay within the hair band. Your clothes had more holes than you could count and were covered in a thick layer of dirt and insect blood. A grimace fell across your face. Gross.

At your feet was another cardboard box; it was opened with a variety of fabrics spilling out. Crouching down, you pulled out the black material at the top to find that it was a long-sleeve off-the-shoulder shirt. It wasn’t exactly practical, but it beat wearing insect organs. You exchanged your two previous shirts for the black shirt; the material stretched around your curves, clinging to your body like a second skin.

Next was a change of pants. You kicked off your shoes and peeled off your jeans, leaving you only in your black underwear and socks. And so, the search began. A good ten minutes went by and you found nothing but long skirts and dresses. You were not about to walk outside dressed up like some grounder princess. Not now at least. Maybe there were more boxes upstairs?

After locating the staircase to the second story, you began to climb. Just like the first level, there were boxes and furnishings. There was a large thigh-high mattress against the back wall with two glass doors on either side leading to a balcony. The mattress was covered in several different blankets consisting of shades between white and purple with a mountain of matching pillows at the head of the bed. On the wall facing the mattress was another floor-length mirror. These people had a vanity problem.

Much to your displeasure, none of the boxes upstairs contained any pants either, so there you stood in the middle of the room wearing only a tight shirt and underwear. You sighed in frustration, tugging your hair band from the bun and letting your locks cascade over your shoulders and down your back. With nothing else to do, you decided you might as well go outside and see what the others were doing. You stepped out onto the balcony; the house’s architect had the right idea by designing it with a concrete fence that covered your lower half.

The others were still lingering on the other side of the village. You rested your forearms on the balcony fence, watching as Murphy signalled for Shaw and Bellamy’s assistance with pulling a heavy wooden crate from inside one of the houses. Knowing Murphy, it was probably full of stuff he was going to take for himself, which would have explained Bellamy’s reluctant stance. There was also something else that seemed to be troubling him. He looked distracted, almost torn between choices, his eyes occasionally wandering to the opposite side of the village where you had previously walked off to. Nevertheless, he eventually did give in to helping Murphy.

And then suddenly time all around you began to slow down. You were in a trance and it was no one but Bellamy’s fault.

He shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves to his elbows, exposing his tanned and veiny arms beneath. He placed his hands underneath the crate and lifted in time with Murphy and Shaw. Even from such a distance, you could see his muscles tense and flex under the weight, the size of his biceps nearly doubling and bursting through the seams of his shirt. His face carried a strained expression, something you had seen many times before but in very different circumstances.

Your skin flushed with heat, and your bottom lip curled between your teeth as you struggled to keep your breathing under control. Blood was buzzing in your ears; you felt fucking intoxicated. You were aware of how feral your behaviour had become but it was inevitable. In a game like this, it had to be.

Once the crate was outside, he and Murphy placed it on the ground. Bellamy ran a hand through his hair, his gaze already beginning to wander once again. As if he could feel your stare burning straight through him, his eyes found your distant ones up on the balcony. The feeling of a hole being burnt through him was understandable because your eyes were ablaze with sin. That had to have been the tenth time you’d made him hard now and it was becoming painful.

You weren’t embarrassed to be caught staring, instead, you were intrigued as to what his next movements would be. But he made none. He simply stared at you over his shoulder, eyes stern and calculating. Who was going to win wasn’t the question anymore. The question was: How could either of you prepare for what was coming? A century’s worth of abstinence was also a century’s worth of build-up, meaning the release would be messy, and Bellamy wasn’t one to hold back.

Finally, he broke the eye contact, but only for a few seconds. His eyes moved to the building beside him and then back to you as if he were trying to get you to follow his gaze. So, you did. What he had gestured to was another pair of chains and handcuffs connected to a wall. Instinctively, you gasped, feeling a pulse in your stomach which you knew was his exact objective. You looked back at him, seeing the self-satisfied grin plastered on his face before he turned back to the group.

That son of a bitch.

Your back slid down the concrete fence until your ass hit the cold marble floor. He was driving you to sex-crazed insanity and you didn’t know how to fight against it. You needed something. Anything to relieve the torment. But you knew if you started, your hands would never stop, not until they were replaced with his.

Maybe the cuffs weren’t such a bad idea.

“No!” you had to verbally reprimand yourself.

Your head fell in your hands. This was all getting too much for you. One-hundred-and-twenty-five years… and a day! You wouldn’t call yourself a nymphomaniac but holy fuck. It was getting to the point that even his name had you aching, tearing yourself to shreds. You couldn’t take it any longer.

Moving onto your hands and knees, you began crawling—yes, crawling—back inside. You managed to pull yourself up onto the mattress with trembling arms and fell back against the quilt and cushions in the middle of the bed. A shaky breath left your lips. If Bellamy couldn’t be there to take care of you, then you would finish the job yourself.

You slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric covering your heat, fingers racing to meet the spot you needed. Back arching into the bed and stomach tightening—that is what you expected to happen when your fingers began circling your clit, but it was nothing of the sort. All you felt was skin on skin and the slightest of sensations. Even when you pressed harder, and moved faster, there was nothing.

Letting out a quiet, distressed cry, you readjusted your position and switched hands. You began rubbing back and forth, side-to-side, every way that had gotten the job done in the past. You moved one hand under your shirt and began massaging your breast, pinching and grazing your nipple, trying to replicate all the moves Bellamy had pulled on you before.

Still, there was no relief from the ache you felt. You needed to go further. Your hand moved lower, fingers hovering over your slick opening before sliding one in. This was never your forte; it was Bellamy’s. Whenever you needed to pleasure yourself, you would stick with outside stimulation, so all you knew was what he had done to you. After sliding your finger in and out a few times, you added another, but it still didn’t feel right. There was something you were missing that he usually did.

He took over your thoughts and you tried to imagine it was his hands instead of your own, but you were just fooling yourself. They were your fingers, not his. You were alone and you were desperate. No one could make you feel as close to heaven as him, not even yourself. Somehow, he knew the workings of your body even better than you did. Without him there in your desperate time of need, it was useless…

So, you started crying—like, actual tears-running-down-cheeks-and-sniffling crying. You felt utterly pathetic and that was all you felt. There was nothing you could do to help yourself. Bellamy was outside with the others, and it wasn’t like you could just waltz out there without pants on and ask him to fuck you incoherent.

Your fingers slipped out from inside you, wet and splayed across your bare stomach as you stared up at the ceiling, condemned to the unshakable longing within. Too distracted by your inability to satisfy yourself and your attempts to stop the tears from flowing, you didn’t hear the door downstairs open and closd. You sniffled, continuing to feel sorry for yourself.

Footsteps were coming up the staircase, but you didn’t hear them either. Nor did you notice the familiar figure that was now leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest, feeling that same terrible longing that had led him to you. Only when he cleared his throat did you shoot up into a sitting position.

Bellamy.

“Bellamy,” you whispered, eyes wide and full of new-found hope.

He didn’t say anything, just simply observed you. First, he noticed the sparse clothing on the bottom half of your body; his pants became the tiniest bit tighter. Then he saw your eager expression—even tighter. And then, his eyes found the fingers lying in your lap, coated in a shine that had his entire body pulsing.

The drying tears on your cheeks were a dead giveaway of the desperation you had for him. He tilted his head, insincere pity washing across his features that you knew was only meant to taunt you. “What did you do?”

Your mouth opened to speak but you couldn’t find the words. “I–I–”

He pushed off the doorway and slowly walked over to you, each step measured in regard to prolonging the time it took for the distance between you and him to close.

You moved onto your knees as he got closer.

Once he finally stopped beside the mattress where you were sitting, he peered down at you. “Just couldn’t wait, could you?”

His arms were doing that thing again where they bulged beneath his shirt. He was right in front of you, all you had to do was reach out and touch. So, you did. You reached for his arm, but he was quick to intercept, catching your wrist in his hand. He looked like he was holding back a smirk, but his scheming eyes revealed how he felt. Smug.

For a moment, he moved his attention to your hand, turning it side-to-side to watch the light catch on the wetness. His eyes returned to yours and it was suddenly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He gently began to pull you forward, guiding you off the bed and you let him, oblivious as to where he was taking you.

When your feet hit the ground, he led you towards the wall. What you had failed to notice when you first entered the room was that there was another pair of chains connected to a handcuff. Scratch what you had thought before—these people had a bigger kink problem than vanity. Before you even had a chance to think, the leather cuff was bound around both your wrists.

You looked up at Bellamy. “Wait, wha–what are you doing?”

He sat back on the edge of the mattress. “Giving you another chance to win.”

The game. You had almost forgotten.

Winning and losing were a foreign concept to your mind now. All you wanted was Bellamy and he knew it which was why he found teasing you so entertaining. You tugged on the chains, trying to reach out to him even though you knew it was useless.

“Don’t think that will work, princess.”

You stared at him, exhaling sharply. Frustration was quickly building, and you wondered how long it would take until you were in tears again.

He looked around the room as though he hadn’t a worry in the world.

“It’s kinda hot in here, don’t you think?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Then he was pulling his shirt over his head and you were sinking to your knees. That was just cruel. His entire torso was exposed now, from his well-defined abs and chest to his broad and muscular shoulders. So cruel.

Your head fell back against the wall. “Bell–”

“What were you thinking about?” he interrupted, arms crossed over his chest again. There was no material preventing you from watching his muscles expand, from seeing the crafted curves of his toned arms. “Before I came in.”

I was pretending it was you who was touching me, you thought of saying, but your voice failed you.

He leaned forward, forearms resting on his spread knees. Staring at you expectantly, he was quick to realise he wasn’t getting an explanation. He nodded as if to say, ‘I see how it is’.

“Was it my fingers…?” He began cracking his knuckles one finger at a time, gaining all of your attention. “Or was I inside you?”

Your walls spasmed at the thought and you sighed softly.

“Were you imagining what it would feel like to have me between your legs after so long?” You closed your eyes, listening to him put the images in your mind. “How good I can make you feel? How fast?”

Goosebumps spread all over your body, your skin tingling with anticipation. You heard the bedsheets ruffling. He had moved off the mattress, now crouched in front of you, but you didn’t dare to open your eyes.

“You know, I’ve been thinking about it too.” His voice was a low murmur now. “I can’t stop.”

He watched your eyes screw shut even tighter as he got closer. You looked like you were hurting, and he almost gave in, with heavy emphasis on the ‘almost’. Instead, he ghosted a finger across your collarbone. “I think about kissing you here.” He trailed up your neck. “Here.”

You could feel the air flexing between your lips and his finger, and you shivered. “And here.”

Your eyes slowly peeled open to see his face in front of yours. His dark eyes flickered between your own, peering deep into your soul which was entwined with him. He was already inside you without even touching you; he was inside your mind and under your skin. Your body was his and his body was yours. You loved him so intensely that whenever he fucked you, you forgot you were two different people instead of one.

To Hell with the challenge. To Hell with losing. He was your Heaven, and such torturous deterrents wouldn’t keep you away from the rapture he gave.

In a single move, you leaned forward and crashed your lips to his. Your body curved into him and he caught you with both arms, holding you upright against him. There was a split second before Bellamy responded as realised you finally gave in which meant he could too, and his lips began moving against yours. Just like the first kiss you shared on Eligius IV after waking up, this one was hungry, but that word sounded inadequate compared to what it really was. ‘Ravenous’ was more accurate.

You moaned into his mouth, your body feeling like it was coming alive.

His movements were intoxicating and so were the small sounds he made when he tried to fill his lungs with air. There was a rumbling in his chest, and he sounded almost primal. He brought a hand to the side of your head, fingers buried beneath your hair as he deepened the kiss, merging your lips with his.

Your bodies rocked backwards and forwards, your cuffed hands pressed against his chest meanwhile his were around your back and the other was in your hair. Bellamy’s hand moved to squeeze your waist and your mouth opened, giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside and meet your own.

He rolled his tongue over yours during one kiss, and the next, yours had asserted dominance. You swirled around him, tasting him, mixing with him. During the time you took to explore the inside of his mouth, the floor beneath you had disappeared and was replaced with his arms. Your back was against the wall and if he wanted to, he could have dropped you at his feet; you had no way of holding on except for your legs which were wrapped around his hips.

You returned the power to him for a few seconds only to then lightly bite down on his bottom lip. He let out a quiet groan and slowly drew back to press his forehead to yours. For a while, you both stayed like this, breathing in each other’s breaths with your eyes closed.

Everything around you began to spin, and your head felt euphoric as you used his air as your own. The sensation spread through your body, it coursed through your veins and you needed to move, to feel it come to life. Your hips bucked forward but he was quick to push back, pinning you against the wall with a small grunt. His erection pressed between your legs, but he didn’t move. Eyes snapping open, you sent him a pleading look. How much longer was he going to make you wait? You tried to move your cuffed hands between your bodies, but he held them to his chest with one hand.

You wiggled against him, but it was futile.

“Bell,” you almost sobbed. “Bellamy, please.”

He lifted a finger beneath your chin, watching your reddened lips whisper the word ‘please’. He watched your eyes water, tears threatening to spill over the edge. You begged him over and over, and he allowed you to. He let you humiliate yourself in the hopes that he would give you what you wanted. You had completely fallen apart, and now he was going to piece you back together.

“What do you want?” His thumb brushed across your lips.

“Just touch me,” you pleaded.

A few more moments passed of you both just staring at each other, and then it was like something finally snapped in his eyes. He set you down on your feet. At first, you thought he was going to sit back on the bed, and you nearly choked out an objection. That isn’t what happened.

Instead, he pressed another tender kiss to your lips, then to your jaw, your neck, and down your clothed chest. His hands moved down either side of your body as he sunk to his knees in front of you and trailed kisses across your exposed stomach.

Your breaths started coming out in shorter, shallower intervals as he moved further down.

His hands squeezed your hips as he kissed the skin below your navel, causing your eyes to nearly roll back then and there. Finally, he made it to just above the waistband of your underwear. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly now. So close. His hands moved onto your thighs and he leaned in, briefly pressing his warm lips to your thinly covered heat. A jolt of pleasure moved up your body and you gasped. You could feel it—him.

He glanced up at your impatient expression before pulling the underwear down your legs, lifting each foot until it was completely discarded. He eyed the soaking mess that you already were and licked his bottom lip. This was all because of him. His eyes found yours once more, this time wordlessly asking for access despite your obvious enthusiasm.

All you managed to get out was a frantic, “Please”.

And when his mouth finally found your clit, a tear fell from your eye.

Your bound hands fell on top of his head, tugging at the soft waves as his tongue delved between your folds and flicked across your clit. His warm hands moved to the backs of your thighs, burying his face even deeper, exploring you even further. He moved down to your opening, spreading his tongue flat against it and dragging up to collect the mess that you were already becoming. Once he had returned to your clit, his mouth suctioned, sucking with pressure that caused you to let out a cry.

It wasn’t long before you felt the ghost of your orgasm begin to slowly step into the white light. The muscles in your stomach were tensing and rubbing together, preparing for a release that they were guaranteed to have.

Your back arched off the wall as you felt Bellamy’s teeth softly graze against the most sensitive part of your clit. He circled the surrounding area, the nerves beneath your skin setting alight with pleasure under his tongue, burning you from the inside out. When he mumbled something against you, you could feel the vibrations of his voice bury itself deep inside you, and you couldn’t hold back the filthy moan that had been begging to escape.

He pulled back an inch, your hips unconsciously following him as he said, “You lose.”

His mouth returned to your heat, focusing his attention on your throbbing clit, switching between flicking it with his tongue and sucking it into his mouth.

“No,” you managed to breathe out. There was no way something like this could be called ‘losing’. You were the one who got to feel Bellamy’s mouth between your thighs, bringing you to an extreme state of ecstasy. You were the one who had him on his knees before you. “I win.”

He groaned at the sound of your voice and you felt the pleasure move up another level. Your legs buckled beneath you as you tried to grind on his tongue. He took that as a hint to haul one of your legs over his broad shoulder. Now you were another level higher. Your hips bucked against him, feeling almost like you were vibrating as he continued his movements.

Just when you thought the sensation couldn’t get any better, you felt his thick finger suddenly slide deep into your opening and curl. Another tear ran down your cheek and you gripped onto his hair as your head fell back against the wall. You couldn’t even moan; there was only a chorus of strangled noises leaving your throat. He pushed upwards into the soft fleshy wall inside you over and over at a fast and steady pace, and suddenly, you were on the edge of pure bliss, ready to dive into the consuming waters.

His mouth sucked on your clit, tongue circling its peak, meanwhile, he added another finger to pump inside of you.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Your voice had risen an octave, all breathy and needy.

Like a heartbeat, you could feel yourself throbbing, pleasure building more intensely with each pulse. The muscles in your stomach were so tight it felt like they were being burned with a white-hot flame. Your insides were twisting and coiling and with every curl of his fingers, the feeling only intensified.

Bellamy glanced up at you from below, your eyes meeting in a short exchange.

It all happened so fast.

“I’m–” Before you could finish your sentence, you were shot back up into space, seeing stars.

Your legs tensed up, heel digging into his back as your body began to shake. The coil inside your stomach unravelled, exiting through your opening but not before aggressively rubbing at your insides on the way out. For a moment, you forgot where you were. All you knew was the release, the buzzing in your ears and the way your vision swayed through half-lidded eyes.

Bellamy’s name flowed past your lips like a mantra. He didn’t stop; he kept pumping, kept sucking, prolonging the sensation for as long as he could. Everything was pulsing—the air, his fingers, your pussy. Everything. You would’ve thought you had ascended to a higher dimension if it weren’t for the man beneath you.

You felt his mouth disconnect from your body, fingers still moving inside, although, his pace was beginning to slow and so was your orgasm. The feeling was fading away, leaving you with an overwhelming feeling of weakness in the lower half of your body. Bellamy could feel your legs shaking, so he slid his fingers out. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore and the next thing you knew, your legs buckled, and you were collapsing to the ground

Bellamy caught you in his arms, pulling you into his lap. He watched your thighs tremble as aftershocks washed over you, creamy liquid dripping down your skin. Your furrowed brows, half-closed eyes, and parted lips were a sight to see; he’d never witnessed anything more beautiful in his life.

You peered up at him through your lashes, cuffed hands resting on your stomach, and you smiled. Then you laughed, and then he was laughing too. His chest vibrated against your skin. Your hands reached up to push back a strand of his hair from his face and suddenly you were kissing again.

He placed a hand on your back and guided you until you were sitting sideways on his lap. Your taste was on his tongue and you loved it. You felt it seep into your own tastebuds as you rewound back to when you came on his fingers. You used his chest as support to help swing your legs on either side of his folded thighs so that you were now facing him.

His hands ran down your sides, stopping at the hem of your shirt before pulling it up over your head, exposing your naked breasts to the warm air. Bras were impractical when you were Bellamy Blake’s girlfriend; he’d always find some way of removing them anyway. Hell, you wouldn’t have been surprised if he had burned all the ones you used to wear.

He lowered his head to your chest, hair tickling your neck as he began making it his mission to cover your breasts in bruises that marked you as his. Despite feeling like your ability to walk was eradicated, you could feel yourself craving more of him, more of his sex. As previously disclaimed, sometimes fatigue didn’t stop you two from going multiple rounds and this time wasn’t an exception.

If only your hands weren’t bound. You wanted to touch him the way he did you. You wanted him to feel the world disappear and be replaced with a mind-numbing sense of sinful pleasure. You wanted to give that to him, but you couldn’t. Your hands were cuffed, and he had the key.

“Uncuff me, Blake,” you whispered.

His head lifted from your breasts, reluctant eyes meeting your own. “Why should I?”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness and turned your head away from him, but he was quick to pull you back with two fingers on the side of your jaw.

“You still lost, remember?” he added.

As if you didn’t already know that. “That was not my definition of losing.”

It was his turn to roll his eyes and even though you were supposed to be in a minor disagreement, you couldn’t help but think about how fucking sexy he looked. You leaned forward, lips ghosting over his. “Uncuff me, Blake.”

His jaw clenched and he leaned in, but you quickly pulled away. His eyes narrowed at you and the smirk you were biting back. He had played the ‘humiliation game’ with you and now it was time for payback. Bellamy may have been the one with the keys, but it was you who now had the control.

“C’mon, we both know you’ll give in before me,” he said, arrogantly.

Always count on Bellamy to be egotistical, even in bed. Well, ‘on the floor’ would be more accurate.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

You hummed, placing your restrained hands on his chest and slowly grazing them down his torso. When you reached his stomach, you made sure to slow down and drag your nails across his skin.

He inhaled sharply when your nails scratched the area above his pants’ waistband. “Very conceited for a boy who can’t even handle being touched.”

His chuckle came out as a harsh exhale. “‘Boy’?”

“A man would take these chains off me.”

“You think taunting me will get me to break?”

Provoking words wasn’t what was going to break him; you knew that. It was underestimation that was going to be his fall. When it came down to it, men were very simple creatures. They chased after pleasure like it was the one thing that kept them alive, and you knew each and every weakness this man had. He thought just because he won the game, he also won the war. Well, guess again. You were going to knock him right off his high horse.

Your fingers dipped into his waistband. His hand quickly clamped over one of your wrists, pulling it away from his pants. Not that it mattered; you didn’t need your hands. He held your hands in the space between your bodies, his chest rising a little more irregularly than before.

You leaned forward, tantalisingly slow. This time he made sure not to move a muscle, allowing you to do exactly what you wanted. Your mouth hovered in front of his and you could feel his warm breath fan across your lips. Softly, almost as if the moment had become sugary and sweet, you pressed a kiss to his lips, a tender closed-mouth moan buzzing in your throat upon contact. He responded with the same energy.

And then the mood abruptly shifted as you glided your tongue across his bottom lip.

You could feel his cock twitch beneath you, and you knew you were headed in the right direction. Grinding down on his lap, you managed to slip your tongue into his mouth as he grunted. One weakness down; four to go. Your tongue swirled around his with each open-mouth kiss, and he had no choice—you both knew he was having the time of his life—but to reciprocate since he had already given up that area of defence.

Your hips continued to rock back and forth across his lap, occasionally applying a bit more pressure in the hopes he would be triggered to move. He wasn’t. Yet. So, you left his lips and moved down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the skin. His head tilted to the side with a sigh, allowing you easier access. This spot was not your main target, though. Your kisses trailed up to his jaw, running along the sides and the curve of his jawline before dipping just beneath the area where his jaw and neck connected. That was one of his weak spots.

His next exhale was shaky, paired with the quietest of groans. Two down. Then you moved on to the next target: just below his ear. Your tongue grazed the area before you left your mark by sucking on his soft skin. He was louder this time and your confidence soared higher. Three; two to go.

He had let go of your wrists now, resting his hands on the curves of your hips with his eyes closed. So much for the whole my-willpower-is-stronger-than-yours dispute. You watched his face as you dragged yourself back and forth over his erection. His eyes screwed shut, brows pulling together, and his fingers pressing hard into the soft plush of your hips.

Come on. Come on, you thought.

“Let go, Bell,” you purred into his ear. Your entire body weight shifted onto his lap and you almost revealed the same weakness you were trying to pull from him. He was so incredibly hard now that it probably wasn’t even healthy. He would have to unchain you soon. And just to pour gasoline on an already roaring fire, you added, “I want to feel you inside me.”

That was it. He couldn’t deny himself the heaven you were giving anymore. His hips bucked up into you, creating a pseudo-sensation of sliding between your folds—an action that erupted a full-fledged moan from his lips, causing your inner walls to flutter and your stomach to drop.

Weak point four—check.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before suddenly snatching the knife from the holster on his belt and splitting the leather cuffs around your wrists.

And five. Check yes Juliet.

Wow. he couldn’t even manage to grab the keys.

Your hands were free at last, and you wasted no time in using them. They rushed down to unbuckle his belt and tossed it on the floor with a clink. Before you could continue any further, Bellamy rolled you over so that you were now lying caged beneath him. His lips came down on yours in a flurry of passion.

Now that you had full-body autonomy, you couldn’t help but explore every inch of him that you were once denied of touching. Your fingertips ran over his back, over the ridges of his shoulder blades, and around his large biceps. You wove your fingers into the roots of his hair and tugged just because you could.

He reached under the curve on your back, pulling your body up into his, your pelvis’ meeting in a rough collision. He was a mess of grunts and groans and you were quickly inhaling more air than you needed.

You moved a hand to his cheek to deepen the kiss as your touch explored his body further, slipping between your bodies and settling on unbuttoning his pants. Unzipping his flier with one-handed skill, your warm, soft hand slipped into his boxers, finally coming into contact with his hard cock.

His head fell to your chest with a broken moan.

Your fingers curled around him, beginning to stroke up and down his length. Bellamy had taken many of your firsts, including your first time so you had no one to compare him to. However, you were well aware that he was bigger than average. Even if he hadn’t been, you were certain he would satisfy you the same; he was just that good.

He managed to lift his head back up and return to your lips as your arm pumped up and down. His hips lurched forward as your grip increased. All he could think about was how good you were going to feel when it was your heat that was engulfing him, how wet and warm you always were.

Your hand reached the head of his cock, thumb rubbing circles over his tip as you felt drops of precum coat your fingertip. He was usually able to last a long time, just like you, but this was different. Everything inside him was built up for a century, and it would not take much until he was coming in your hand. You wanted him to reach that point as soon as possible.

You left pecks trailing from his mouth, across his cheek, and to the side of his jaw. The bone of his jaw fell victim to your grazing tongue as your pace increased along with the pressure of your grip. He was breathing heavily now, every second breath mixed with a low, breathy moan or grunt. You were throbbing just listening to the sounds he made.

A few curses left his mouth, revealing how close he was—that and the way his cock was practically pulsating in your hand. You twisted your hand with each stroke, effortlessly gliding your palm down his large veiny length. Your thumb grazed over the sensitive band of skin beneath the head of his cock, and his entire body flinched.

He was almost over the edge; all you had to do was give him a little push. Wanting to see his face one last time before you did, you leaned back, cradling his jaw in one hand whilst the other continued below. His eyes were shut, inner brows pulled upwards in a painfully blissful expression and strands of dishevelled dark hair had fallen across his forehead. God, he was gorgeous. What you wouldn’t give to…

No. You had your pleasure; now it was his turn. With each jerk and twist of your hand, your fingers ran over his tip then moved back down to lightly squeeze and repeat. You pressed one last peck to his lips before travelling to that spot below his ear, running your tongue over the skin and then sucked.

His cock twitched in your hand, stomach tensing against your forearm before he finally let go. He let out a loud guttural moan of your name, almost a cry, as he released onto both your hand and the inside of his pants. His head fell forward into the space between your neck and shoulder, groaning into your heated skin which sent vibrations down to your breast.

He remained in that spot for a few moments as you continued to slowly pump him up and down whilst pressing kisses to his shoulder. As he attempted to get his breath back, you removed your hand from his pants and moved both onto his back, lightly dragging your nails over his skin.

Now you were both even, but it was clear this was far from over.

Warm pants fanned across your face after he recovered enough to hover over your body. You were about to tease him for coming quicker than you did, but his tongue was suddenly in your mouth, rolling around your own. And then you felt it—he was already hard again.

That’s a lot of stamina for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man.

He left your lips again and rose to his knees. His carnally intense eyes never left yours as he pulled both his pants and boxers down to his lower thighs. You watched as his cock sprang from his boxers and bounced off his toned stomach. Still looking good for a hundred-and-fifty-one-year-old man too. Extremely good. Like, actually drool-worthy good.

And it seemed he was thinking the very same thing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he spoke, almost like he couldn’t believe the fact himself before he descended back down to you, mouth hot on yours.

His hands were on the floor on either side of your shoulders, essentially trapping you beneath him. You loved how small he made you feel compared to him; almost like he could hold you in the palm of his hand like a little china doll. The treatment he gave you was also like that of a china doll—such a delicate and treasured touch. Though, there were times when he would practically throw you around like a rag doll, mostly when you were both deep in an intense fuck session.

The length of his cock glided over your stomach as he moved his body into each kiss. It was so close to where you needed it, yet still so far. Your legs curled around his hips in an attempt to guide him to your entrance, but he showed slight resistance. His tip was just pushing through your folds, sliding across with each movement he made. It was torture.

You pulled back from his lips, hands almost clawing at the sides of his chest. “Please, Bell, just–”

A gasp escaped you both as Bellamy finally pushed inside you in one fluid movement, his hips almost meeting yours as he filled you as much as your previously abstinent body allowed. Your walls welcomed him and the long-awaited feeling of his cock brushing against that back-arching spot deep within you. He hadn’t even moved yet, but your eyes were fluttering, and your throat was already tightening as you struggled to let out a moan.

Neither of you could do anything but struggle to keep your composure, waiting for the overwhelming heat of pleasure to subdue just the tiniest bit so your bodies could start moving without the world crashing down around you. After moments of stillness passed, Bellamy finally began to move, his pace slow but so, so deep. His gaze was intense as he found his rhythm, sliding almost completely out and then pushing himself back inside you. Fuck, the way your warmth consumed him was hypnotic.

It was kind of like the first time you had slept together those many years ago, minus the nearly unbearable pain when he first entered you, of course. It was intense yet still so full of adoration.

Your body soon grew accustomed to the feeling of his cock stretching you open, making room for him to bury even deeper, to feel your walls completely swallow him whole. That is when his pace started to increase. Your arms hooked around his biceps, bringing him closer as he continued his thrusts.

Not long passed before his hips were snapping against yours; he wasn’t just sliding in and out of you anymore—he was fucking you, pounding into you. Each time he buried himself deep, the area above his cock ground against your clit, stimulating you from the inside and out, so much that it was impossible to hold back a moan.

He moved a strand of hair away from your face, nodding his head as if to praise your vocalisation. The sight of him praising you for simply enjoying yourself as he fucked you was something that turned you on beyond belief. Not that you needed any more turning on at that point, but still, the reaction stood firm.

You wanted him deeper, in any way that was still physically possible.

And then, a sudden, lust-bound thought entered your mind and before you could even ponder it, you had used all your strength to roll yourself on top of his body. Now, his hands were on your hips, head thrown back on the floor and mouth hung open as you rode his cock.

“Oh, fuck!” Bellamy groaned.

Your hands were on his thighs as to hold up your half-reclined position and you were bouncing up and down, rolling your hips so you could feel him everywhere inside you.

A shudder ran down your body, peaking the nipples of your bouncing breasts. You swore you could almost feel him in your stomach. You shifted your body weight into your arms and pushed yourself upwards, sliding his cock nearly all the way out, circling your entrance around his tip before sinking back down to his base.

The both of you let out a synced noise of satisfaction.

His eyes followed each roll of your breasts in a trance, and then he cupped one in his hand, circling his thumb around your sensitive nipple. You gave Bellamy a smile, one that was so sweet and unintentionally seductive. He let out a half chuckle, half groan.

Your legs began to burn, a reminder of the experience you had with Bellamy’s tongue just before this. The way your clit was slapping against his pelvis each time you dropped mimicked the way his tongue had previously flicked and rolled around it. Your pace was beginning to slow, and your rhythm faltered, but you didn’t want the sensation to stop. Instead, you let yourself sink fully down on his cock, and your eyes rolled back. Ok, now he had to be in your stomach because there was no other explanation for the deepness you felt.

He was permanently in that spot that had blood rushing to your head, and with your hips rocking back and forth the way they were, your gut was throbbing with a build-up of ecstasy.

“I–” you panted. “I can’t hold myself up much longer.”

You squeezed his thighs, surely leaving behind red marks as you tried to push yourself up and down a few more times, pleasure and pain fuelling each of your repetitions. It was no use; your arms were trembling, and muscles were burning.

Bellamy was quick to your aid. “I’ve got you, princess, don’t worry.”

His hands moved to your back, pulling you forward, and colliding your breasts into his chest. Next thing you knew, he was pounding hard up into your pussy, his movements so fast you couldn’t even count the number of thrusts he made every five seconds, but it felt so good. So good that you almost screamed.

Your clit was throbbing, inner walls clenching around his unrelenting cock. You were hot, your body slick with sweat, but it wasn’t just that; there was also a fire pooling at the bottom of your abdomen, spreading through your muscles, through every fibre of your being and you didn’t want it to stop.

Bellamy’s arms were wrapped around your waist, rendering you immobile to each of his insatiable thrusts but it made you feel all the more incredible. He was hitting that soft, fleshy spot inside you over and over again, and you felt like you were going to burst. Your stomach was fluttering, his cock was pulsing inside you, and you were a mess of whines and moans.

“You feel–” he couldn’t even speak without releasing a rough moan. His arms tightened around you, mouth moving against your shoulder to say, “Feel so good.”

You couldn’t help but cry out at his words; he sounded so drunk on pleasure.

He began pressing rough kisses to your neck and the noises leaving your throat were utterly impure. His knees bent inwards, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. You were both overcome with desire, hellbent on chasing your release that was taunting you from the shadows. Bellamy seemed almost animalistic, sucking and biting at the skin of your neck whilst pounding into you from below.

Like always, he had made it so that you didn’t have to lift a finger, and he liked it that way. He was making you feel like you had slipped into heaven, and only he could do that. One of his many sources of joy was that your body only knew his cock, and it would forever only know his because that was how long he planned to love you.

You placed a hand on the floor beside his head, hovering your face above his. His eyes were quick to find yours as you gazed down at him.

In between each of his thrusts, you breathed out, “I–love–you.”

He looked so flustered, so puffed out. He was unable to repeat the words back without them sounding like a laboured breath of air so instead, he jerked forward and latched his mouth on the bone of your jaw, turning your skin red and purple.

Your head turned to the side to give him easier access only to unexpectedly come face-to-face with yourself being absolutely destroyed in the mirror’s reflection.

Well… It sure wasn’t a vanity problem these people had, you knew that now.

“Bellamy, look,” you gasped.

His entire body stilled at the sound of your voice and he eyed you with a worried expression. “Did I do something?”

“No,” you tilted his head with your hand so that he was looking at the mirror too. “I just…”

He didn’t need to hear more; Bellamy knew exactly what you wanted—to watch. Watch as his cock plunged in and out of your pussy, watch it curve into your entrance, watch your body bounce on top of his with each thrust. Damn, he’d wished either of you had noticed the mirror before so he could have watched you ride him from two point-of-views.

His gaze returned to you. “Hop off.” You were about to protest, but he beat you to it by clamping a large hand over your mouth. “Trust me.”

You gave him a puzzled, hesitant look but eventually submitted to his command, sliding off him and onto the hard marble floor. His body had left yours entirely, leaving you feeling cold and empty, inside and out.

It wasn’t long before he positioned himself to face the mirror, kneeling in front of it. He curled an arm around your waist and slid you across the floor towards him. Like a rag doll. He pulled you backwards onto his lap so that your back was almost against his chest and your thighs were spread open on either side of his.

“Lean back,” he said, and you did.

Your back was flush against him, and you could feel his racing heart reverberating in your ribcage. His arms wrapped around the space beneath your breasts and he pulled you upwards, supporting your weight, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself up.

“Ready?” he whispered into your ear as you watched him in the reflection.

You nodded, reaching around to rest a hand on the side of his neck.

He kissed your cheek and your eyes closed at the sweet act of affection. One of his hands moved beneath you as he guided himself to your entrance, his tip pushing against your wet folds. Bellamy watched over your shoulder, his eyes focusing on the way his cock teased opening.

He finally slid inside, and you instantly fell further against him. Muscles were very handy in this kind of situation. You were captivated—his length disappeared into your body and then returned almost to the tip, covered in a thin layer of both your juices. His movements continued over and over, but you never found yourself bored or wanting to look away. Neither did he.

Your lips parted with a moan when he abruptly took one hard thrust up into you. You looked up at your reflection, seeing the expression on your face, seeing your dishevelled hair… your bouncing breasts. Not that you would say it aloud, but you looked sexy. For a split second, you found yourself finally understanding the attraction Bellamy had to you, and then your mind was torn apart once again.

His speed increased and he was hitting your insides harder and harder with each passing second. You saw your thighs slightly jiggling and weren’t insecure or afraid of Bellamy noticing, but instead found yourself feeling even more turned on.

The room was full of sex—the sounds were wet and harsh, the smell of your pheromones clung to the wall, and the visuals were etched into the mirror in front of your bodies. It was beautiful.

You moved your gaze up to Bellamy’s eyes, seeing him just as captivated as you were, alternating between watching himself slip in and out of your pussy and watching your breasts recoil from each bounce. He then met your gaze, talking to you through unspoken communication. Though you were unsure of the specifics, you were certain he was telling you how much he loved you, how beautiful you looked with his cock inside you, how no one else could ever compare.

His tip repeatedly curved into your G-spot, the rest of his length rubbing against your walls, causing the flames in your stomach to start rising. Bellamy could see the fire in your eyes, and he was ready to turn it into a blazing inferno. He shifted his hold on you into one arm, reaching around your body with the other. His fingers found your clit, instantly applying pressure as he rubbed fast circles around it. That was the gasoline.

Your orgasm was no longer creeping up inside you, but rather rocketing to the surface. You were pulsing around Bellamy’s cock, driving him even closer to his own high. His hips were slapping the skin of your ass as they kept snapping upwards. His abs were more defined as the muscles in his stomach tensed up, trying to keep you upright whilst fucking into you and controlling the orgasm that was threatening to release. You always came before him. Always.

His fingers pressed harder into you, moving side-to-side. Your G-spot was being hit without mercy, only intensifying the pleasure you felt as he rubbed your clit. You alternated between holding your breath and letting out shallow, laboured breaths, signalling how close you were.

You could feel it, Bellamy could feel it—you were pretty sure everyone outside could feel it too, feel the powerful energy leaking from the house you were in. That is what it felt like. Powerful. And now it was about to take over your entire body.

“Bell, I’m gonna–”

“I know,” he panted. “Me too.”

Your hand fell over his, pushing down on it, applying more force even though you weren’t sure he could even press any harder. His hand was almost blurring in the mirror, and his cock was pounding. He was breathing so heavily against your back and into your ear that it sounded like he couldn’t even control the grunts and moans leaving his mouth anymore.

He circled your clit a few more times before your hand moved further down to the place you both connected. Your fingers found the area between his cock and your pussy, feeling him slide over your fingertips as he moved in and out. That was what sent you over the edge.

The blaze in your stomach exploded, sending sparks throughout your body. Your moans were uncontrollable, rebounding off every corner of the room. Your ears were buzzing with overwhelming silence, your vision partially blacked out and you felt so, so good. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, but you hardly noticed, unable to think about anything except Bellamy’s cock. You had ascended to a higher dimension and he was right there with you, endlessly pounding up into you, prolonging your mind-numbing high.

Feeling your walls clenching around him was all it took for Bellamy to fill you up with his come. His cock twitched, and the warm liquid came rushing out in spurts, coating your insides with white—with him. The thick warmth of your mixed juices leaked from your opening and dripped down his length. Your inner thighs were drenched.

His thrusts were sloppy and rough, desperate to keep the feeling coursing through his body as long as possible. The sounds he made were so guttural and raw that you weren’t sure if they made you come again or if they just prolonged the orgasm you were already having.

Somehow, in the midst of both your highs, you had ended up on the floor, partially laying on each other whilst frantically gulping down air.

You couldn’t move. One of your legs was tangled between his, and one arm was thrown across his chest. Your breasts were pressed against the hard ground, head turned to the side facing Bellamy. Everything was shaking, or maybe it was just your entire body uncontrollably quivering. Even your pussy was still clenching, causing you to flinch with each fraction of a movement it made.

Bellamy had a forearm over his eyes, panting heavily; his other arm was still wrapped around your waist.

The both of you just lay there for a few minutes, not talking, not moving, just recovering. Eventually, Bellamy gained back enough strength to speak.

“We didn’t even make it to the bed,” he chuckled.

You then realised you were both literally lying naked on a stranger’s bedroom floor and laughed. “We would’ve ruined the sheets anyway.”

“Probably,” he sighed, contently. He pulled you further onto his chest, bringing your face to nuzzle into his neck. He pressed a kiss into your hair. “I love you too, princess.”

You smiled into his skin, remembering the declaration you previously made. Tilting your head up and resting your chin on his chest, you stared up at him, eyes full of reverence. He peered down at you with a grin, and then his lips were on yours again, soft and slow; so tender that you–

“Oh, come on!”

You both pulled apart at the sudden new voice. In the doorway stood a very irritated Murphy. He seemed too shocked—more like too horrified—to even look away.

Bellamy ripped a blanket from the edge of the mattress and pulled it over your body. “Murphy, I swear to god I’m gonna kill you! Get out!”

“Oh my god!” he shouted in response. “I can’t catch a fucking break around here!”

His voice echoed down the staircase as he fled the building. Someone probably needed to find him a shrink after the number of times he had walked in on you both. He had made it back outside, returning to the rest of the group, though not far enough away for you to miss his very loud complaints.

“Where are the damn carnivorous bugs when you need them?!”

“What’s wrong?” you heard someone ask him.

“What’s wrong? They’re fucking animals, that’s what’s wrong!”

You turned back to face Bellamy, grinning in a daze. “I’ll say.”

Bellamy smirked, humming in agreement as he rolled back on top of you.

It was hard to say how many more rounds you went. The only time you stopped was when your bodies were screaming for a break, and during that time, all you could think was thank god for contraceptive implants.

#wife-of-all-dilfs ✍️#bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x y/n #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fanfiction #the 100 #bellamy blake imagine #bellamy x reader #bellamy blake drabble #bellamy x clarke #bellarke #bob morley #bob morley smut #the100edit #clarke griffin #john murphy

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zanarkandskylines · 3 months

Text

Operation: Shut Down

『♡』 fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ Senior year of UA | Characters are all 18 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡ summary: during their senior year of UA, midoriya, bakugo and todoroki return to endeavor's agency for senior internships. while on a supervised patrol, bakugo experiences his first 'failure' as a hero-in-training and takes it extremely hard. reader makes an attempt to care for his fragile state when he returns to the dorms. tags & warnings: failed mission, ptsd/trauma, mentions of blood/gore/violence, depression & anxiety, mild angst, emotional comfort, semi-fluff, bakugo and midoriya hug!? a/n: similar to the "tidal wave" story, but this one is a bit grittier and heavier subject matter. hopefully this also isn't too OOC for bakugo! i figure at some point during their time at UA, or in the field, they’ll have to go through something similar to this on their own. ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,671 ꒱

Ahh, Saturday mornings - one of your favorite times of the week! There's something refreshing about being free from classes, surrounded by all your friends as you laze around the dorms. Yourself and Bakugo are usually the first two awake, often bumping into each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Midoriya and Kirishima are typically next, followed by a random assortment of the rest of the class. One thing's for certain, though, Kaminari is always the last one awake. Jiro swears it annoys the shit out of her that she needs to have an extra alarm to get him up, but he never fails to make her smile when she does.

Today, the dorms are on the quieter side as most of the class are off at their senior internships for a long weekend. You completed yours a few weeks prior, leaving yourself and Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido and Yaoyorozu hanging around this weekend. Meandering toward the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, you run into Midoriya, sitting at the small table - alone.

"Hey! I thought you guys were gone 'til Monday?" you ask, confused as to why he's back early. As you approach the table, you see the somber emotion painted across his face, the usual radiance in his eyes dulled.

"Oh, hey y/n. Yeah, we got back late last night."

There's something unsettling about the way he said "late last night." He still hasn't looked up at you. You place a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Everything okay?" He jumps a bit at your touch, startling you. He's not typically this jumpy. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Zu."

You can see he swallows nervously, his eyes glued to the table.

"Christ, Izuku! You're scaring me, spit it out already!" you urge, growing impatient with his evasiveness.

Midoriya finally turns to face you, his face not able to hide the fact he didn't sleep last night, the darkness growing under his eyes.

"It's Kacchan...," he starts, stopping for longer than you were comfortable with before continuing quietly. "He's in his room and hasn't come out since last night. He won't talk to me or Shouto."

Your stomach cartwheels with a sour feeling.

"You can't just say that and not give me more background on what the hell you're talking about."

He shifted uncomfortably in the diner chair, placing his head in his hands on the table.

"We were on a supervised patrol with Endeavor after dinner last night. The three of us were responsible for escorting a family across the city when Endeavor received an emergency call, taking Kacchan with him and leaving myself and Shouto responsible for the original task."

Midoriya paused, letting out a soft exhale.

"While on the emergency call, Endeavor ended up getting hurt -," he puts his hands up, waving them as he quickly interrupts himself to say he's fine before putting his head back down. "- due to a fall. Supposedly, the villain they were pursuing took advantage of that as a distraction. Kacchan was able to subdue him..."

Again with the damn pauses.

"...but?" You try not to sound too annoyed, but can't help it. You loved Izuku dearly, but he really needed to learn to get to the damn point.

"...but the civilian he captured wasn't so lucky."

What the hell does that mean?

Something in your gut tells you to sit down for whatever it is he's going to say next. You take the seat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh for reassurance.

"You...don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Zu," your tone shifting from your previous annoyance to concern.

He puts a hand on top of yours and gives it a squeeze. "T-thanks, but it's okay. Maybe you could try to talk with him? I had Kirishima try, too with no luck."

"Okay, sure. Do you wanna tell me what happened, then?"

You're not really sure if you should know, at this point. If Bakugo's locked himself in his room and refuses to speak to anyone? Some serious shit must have happened. He's not one to completely shutdown and isolate himself, let alone from Midoriya and Kirishima.

"The...civilian didn't make it. The villain planted a bomb inside of the civilian as, uh...a backup plan, I guess. It went off as Kacchan was escorting them to the ambulance for evaluation."

Your stomach stirs a second time, afraid to confirm what you think happened. "...so, you're telling me he saw someone...explode?"

He hesitates. "Y-yeah. Endeavor told us he went into shock, which isn't like him at all but completely normal, all things considered. He went non-verbal until we got back last night. He didn't even yell, told us he was going to bed, walked off and slammed the door."

"Fucking hell...do you know if he at least got some sleep on the drive back?"

"Funny enough, yeah. He fell asleep on my shoulder." He smiles faintly, trying to look at the positive in this situation. You can't help but smile, too, imagining Bakugo passed out on him without a care in the world.

Midoriya rubs two fingers against his temple - he's intensely fighting to stay awake. But who could blame him? His best friend just went through something extremely traumatic and he doesn't know the best way to help him.

You rub his back, attempting to calm his visible anxiety.

"Alright, I'll tag in. Please Izuku, go to bed. You need to rest," you assert, knowing that he would keep himself up until he physically couldn't stand if it meant helping a friend - especially Bakugo.

"Yeah. Thank you, y/n," Midoriya says wearily. As he stands, you jump up from your own seat to wrap him in a tight hug. He accepts, sighing into your shoulder as his body deflates into yours.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

───

After you walk Midoriya back to his dorm room, you go inside with him for a few minutes to be sure he actually gets into bed. He lazily crawls under the sheets, letting you tuck him in as his eyes are fluttering closed. You pat his head and mutter a 'night Zu' as you tip-toe to the door, carefully shutting it behind you.

Jogging up to the 4th floor, you make your way down the hall to Bakugo's room. You stand outside for a moment before knocking twice.

No response.

You give him a few seconds before knocking again.

Nothing. You don't hear any movement on the other side of the door, either. Maybe he's asleep?

One final try before you give up and resort to calling him.

Thudding footsteps are stomping on the floor from inside his room after the third set of knocks. The sudden sound shocks you as the door flies open, Bakugo's scowling face emerging from behind it, the whites of his eyes faintly pink in color. Has he been crying?

"God dammit, nerd! I fuckin' told you -," He doesn't notice it's you right away as he's shouting in your face. Once the realization sets in, he visibly recoils at his mistake. "...sorry. Thought you were Izuku."

"I could go dye my hair and draw freckles on if you wanna yell at me," you joke.

He doesn't laugh - not even an eyeroll.

Your heart sinks.

Neither of you say anything, standing there awkwardly as the air thickens between the two of you. Bakugo audibly exhales and you can't tell if he's annoyed, angry or...sad.

"Can I come in?" you ask humbly.

He says nothing, retreating back into his room - but, he leaves the door open for you. You take that as an accepted invitation, coming inside and closing the door behind you. He sits on his bed, knees tucked up to his chest as he scoots back to the wall.

Seeing Bakugo like this tugs at your heartstrings, despondent and detached, the opposite of any emotions he'd usually carry. You follow him to the bed and quietly ask permission to sit with him.

"Do you want me to sit with you, Kat?"

He doesn't move, just answers with a muted 'whatever.'

As gentle as you can, you climb onto the bed and shimmy next to him, back against the wall. You'll take this as a win, especially since Midoriya mentioned him not answering anyone else. You're about to say something as you hear a sniffle, confirming your suspicions.

Bakugo was and has been crying.

You reach over to put a hand in his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Instantaneously, he smacks your hand away - hard - and a spark jumps off his palm. Normally, he'd let you touch him without an issue - to an extent, of course, but right now? You understand why he wouldn't want any physical touch.

"Okay, I'll sit here as long as you want," you affirm, retracting your hand and pulling your own knees to your chest. "You don't have to say anything."

With that, the flood gates busted wide open. Bakugo whips his head in your direction, his nose red and eyes swollen, and frantically scrambles on to you. The two of you fall sideways into the pillows at the head of the bed as he wraps his arms around you into an awkward embrace. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, latching onto the back of your shirt with an ironclad grip as he begins to sob.

You have never heard him cry this hard over anything, not even after his fight with Midoriya back in their first year.

You don't wait for Bakugo to say anything before you're cradling him against you, one hand delicately stroking his hair while the other massages light circles on his back.

"I've got you, Katsuki, it's okay," you whisper soothingly while trying your damndest to stop yourself from crying along with him. You wish, more than anything in the world, that you could physically remove the memory from his brain to free him of this trauma.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay as long as you want."

He doesn't respond, only pushes himself deeper into your embrace. You can feel the material of your shirt sticking to your skin at your collarbone from his snot and tears, and you're definitely going to have bruises on your back from his fingers digging into you for support. None of that matters though in the moment, what matters is that he's getting the initial shock out of his system.

You're not too sure how long you both lay there, but with time, you can tell Bakugo's calming down by his sobs mellowing out. His body begins to loosen up, the tension melting from his tightened grip around you. And then you hear it - a low snore.

He'd fallen asleep.

You tilt your head back to get a look at his face. His features have relaxed around his puffy eyes and pink nose. Without thinking, you run a hand through his bangs, exposing his forehead and press a tender kiss to it. He doesn't stir and continues to take deep, sleepy breaths.

───

Bakugo wakes an hour later, dazed and exhausted. When he starts to shift in your arms, you open your eyes. You give him a hearty smile as he releases his hold, rolling onto his back next to you.

"Mornin' sunshine. How're you feeling?"

He snorts as his eyes focus on the ceiling. "Like shit."

He pauses before looking back at you. "But less than before. Thanks. I'm just fuckin' tired."

"You scared me, I've never seen you that upset before," you admit. "You don't have to talk about it now, or ever, just know that I'm here for whatever you need."

"I don't even know what to say about it. Shit sucked, but it's what we signed up for." He's very monotone, but at least he's talking.

You roll over to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

Bakugo sighs. "'S what it is. I'll get over it. Endeavor told me the first one is the hardest, better to get it outta the way before becomin' a pro."

Damn, that made your heart ache.

"Just 'cause we wanna help people doesn't mean we can't also ask the same for ourselves. Heroes need a hero, too."

He lolls his head to the side and stares at you, a gleam in his tired eyes. "...yeah."

The room is silent as the two of you take a break from the rough conversation. If he doesn't want to continue talking, you don't push it. Instead, you offer a distraction.

"I'd love to take you hiking today, if you're up for it," you say with enthusiasm. "I know how much you love that one trail nearby with the overlook of the city."

Bakugo felt his heart flutter at the proposal, confusing the hell out of him, but offered a sense of comfort that he needed. He loved that you remembered something so niche about his interests.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Sure! You tell me how early you wanna go and I'll get my ass out of bed. Just for you," you tease, jokingly smacking his arm. "We can get lunch on the way back from the hike, too. Wherever you wanna go!"

Between the swirl of emotions from earlier and how sweet you're being to him now, he's overwhelmed with a feeling he can't quite place.

"Y/N, can I ask you something?" he asks abruptly.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

"Always, Kat. What is it?"

He stalls his follow up, seeming to think a little longer on how he wans to phrase his question.

"Why...are you here with me?"

His question baffles you. "Because you're my best friend?"

Best friend, he repeats in his head.

You notice the pondering look in his eyes as he turns to face you, shifting to lay on his side.

"It's because I care deeply about you, Katsuki. Nothing'll ever change that."

"...promise?" His voice is shaky, a nervousness to his tone.

You reach out and touch his cheek, stroking it lovingly with your thumb.

"Is that even a question? Yes, I promise. You're stuck with my ass forever, like it or not. I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way."

He laughs - genuinely.

And then he smiles. Your heart soars into the heavens.

"There's my favorite firecracker!" you boast, squishing his cheek in your hand.

Bakugo huffs at the sudden affection, a dusting of pink on his cheeks and nose.

"Th' fuck?!" he curses, playfully poking your forehead. "I'm not a firecracker!"

“Coulda fooled me, Mr. Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight.”

The two of you play fight, cackling like children as the tension melts from the room.

Even if it’s just for a little while, Bakugo forgot about the agonizing dread from hours ago.

───

Later on in the dorm lobby, you’re sitting on the couch with Bakugo, feet in his lap watching TV as he’s reading a book. Midoriya comes prancing into the room, fresh faced from his nap. His eyes brighten when he sees Bakugo on the couch.

“Hey guys! Kacchan, how are you feeling?” he asks cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

Unexpectedly, Bakugo wraps an arm over Midoriya’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“Fine, nerd. Thanks.” He lets go, puts a hand on his head and roughly fluffs his curls - just like when they were kids. Midoriya is so taken aback that he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and relaxes next to him.

“What are we watching?”

You lean sideways to catch a glimpse of the boys together on the couch, co-existing without any negativity. Even after all the shit life throws at them, they still find ways to shove it all away to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, they just need a little help getting back to that mentality.

A silent huff escapes you as you lay back into the couch.

These boys are going to be the death of me.

i love these goobers and wanna buy them a lifetime’s worth of ice cream and take them to disney world to make them happy :’)

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #bnha #mha #☆.rei writes

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medusavsviperz · 1 month

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CATNAP X READER

HEADCANNONS

warnings: SMUT!!!!! cussing, mild gore

relationships: catnap x fem! reader

writing style: second person/smut

genre: smut

• i personally hc catnap to be extremely dominant. in no way will he EVER be a bottom. only type of bottom you'll ever get is a sex position where you're on top. hes never gonna be a submissive (different story for dogday tho, hes both. thats a story for another day)

• during sex, you will be marked. either with his teeth or claws.

• BIGGGG size difference. like omg. how on earth does that monster fit omg

• sometimes likes to include dogday. but he can only watch. nobody touches you but him.

• he has retractable claws. so he can, and loves to finger you.

• big. long. black. tongue. all i gotta say.

• if hes not worshipping you, hes fucking you.

• favorite position is doggy. its like the cats mating pose.

• makes you wear his pendant during sex. likes to watch it bounce against your tits while he fucks you.

• hes more of a pleaser, he doesnt mind receiving (trust me hes rough when you suck him off) but just prefers to please YOU.

• he likes to make you sit around his neck. he likes the feeling of your pussy throbbing while he purrs.

• his purring is like a vibrator

• he is a patient lover during sex. will wait on you to get used to his dick before he moves. (will take about 10 mins bc of his size Imao)

• will absolutely have public sex. (not in front of people but like in the shadows)

made by medusavsviperz

#poppy playtime #catnap #dogday #fanart #artists on tumblr #catnap x reader #smut #daddy's good girl #daddy k!nk #catnap x y/n #catnap x female reader #ns/fw

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rottmnt-residuum · 1 year

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Some Things You Aught to Know (this also the index)

“At the end of it all, what’s left of you?”

The long reaching ramifications of an alien invasion… it all starts here. After the Kraang were defeated, the boys have taken a back step from their usual activities to heal. Which has been surprisingly easy due to sudden lack of activity from their rogue gallery. At least, until Donnie disappears.

Hi! Welcome to the side blog that hosts my comic, Residuum. This little brain baby of mine was conceived in a dream my subconscious cooked up one night and then refused to leave me in the morning! Yes, yes, very interesting, but why is that relevant? Well, my darling reader, dreams can get really, really fucked up. As suuuch, this comic gets kinda, okay a lot, fucked up (￣▽￣|||)

So, this handy dandy pinned post is both the content/trigger warnings and where to find parts. The warnings do contain some spoilers for future installments, so I’ve put them under the read more. I do stress again that this comic is fucked, but to those who don’t read the warnings:

Probably don't read this if you're squeamish. It will contain a lot of, uh. Gore. Seriously. I'm not kidding around here.

This comic will not contain anything sexual, consensual or not. Nothing implied, either. (I can’t believe I have to say this, but no incest, and yes, I am kink-shaming you.)

Directory | F.A.Q.

Parts

Parts that have gore or the more extreme tw's will be red. Parts with mild-ish tw's will be yellow. Censored versions of extreme gore will be blue.

Read it chronologically: [censored gore] [full gore] (only works on desktop as far as I am aware. also! part 17 isn't showing up in either of the links, and i don't know why...)

(Updates every other Sunday at 3:30 pm PST) Update Progress: 22.5%

Content/Trigger Warnings

Subject to change, I’ll tell y’all if they change when I update. They probably won’t change much, but the creative process is annoying :)

Feel free to message directly for any reason, be it clarification or something else

Desturbing Imagery, Trypophobia, Kidnapping, Manipulation, Guns, Gun Violence, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Ableism, Coercion of Minors, Solitary Confinement, Contractual Slavery, Blood & Gore, Implied Death/Actual Death, Major Character Death, Animal Death, Animal Experimentation, Dismemberment, Disembowelment, Non-Consensual Medical Procedures, Irreversible Alterations, Cannibalism, PTSD, Anatomically Correct Organs, Lobotomy, Imprisonment of Innocents, Medical Experimentation, Body Horror, Police Brutality, Corrupt Government Institutions, Xenophobia

#rottmnt residuum #residuum

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noneorother · 6 months

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By far the dumbest movie reference no one caught in Good Omens is : The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse

I'm working on a theory that requires many hours of movie watching, so here we are. Many people have already mentioned that the nazi zombies/Furfur is a The League of Gentlemen comedy troupe shoutout. But I'm taking it one step crazier. Remember the opening scene from the 1941 minisode of S2E4, the one with the london bombing and the Angel statue in the bottom right corner ?

Haha sorry my bad. That's the climax intro scene of the movie The League of Gentlemen's Apocalypse. Here's the opening scene of the 1941 minisode:

You can excuse the confusion after seeing both, with how they look pretty much identical (yes this is giving me The Tales of Hoffmann PTSD, thanks for asking) And it's not very coincidental when you know who helped write the minisode.

You know, just the fourth member of The League of Gentlemen and writer of the movie LG Apocalypse. So shall we tease out all the (I'm warning you) EXTREMELY dumb quotes and story beats this terrible movie has lent to the 1941 episode? There are quite a few. But there's also a potential story arc that isn't so dumb... (TW offensive comedy, including mild gore)

In order to understand this you probably have to know a bit of background on British show The League of Gentlemen. "[A] surreal British comedy horror sitcom... follows the lives of bizarre characters, most of whom are played by three of the show's four writers – Mark Gatiss, Steve Pemberton, and Reece Shearsmith – who, along with Jeremy Dyson, formed the League of Gentlemen comedy troupe in 1995." You don't need to know all of the characters or backstory of the show, just that it's a fictional town with many fictional characters played by the same three writers (and an invisible fourth).

(Also known as all these people right here) Want to know who they plays a stand-in for Jeremy Dyson in LG Apocalypse and gets murdered first with black marker on his face?

Say hello, baby Sheen!

So we've seen the bombing scene, what about the car driving through fire and Aziraphale's suggestive line at the beginning?

Yup.

Do the characters make a deal with a Reece Shearsmith character to enter the real world through a church?

HECK YEAH. Bonus points for the green background.

A gag about fake lips with Steve? Sure.

Steve Pemberton seen here as a nazi zombie, and also here playing "Herr Lipp" (also known in the actual script as "the worst pun in the world" in the movie. Groan). What about Mark Gatiss Stealing binoculars from Steve to spy on two important characters? But of course.

Surely not the arm falling off too?

Oh dang. It's a big plot point in LG Apocalypse you say? Then, in the climax, does someone in dark sunglasses who doesn't know how a rifle works fire it at a main character, and the other character who he misses says fuck? Now you're pulling off my arm..

Well I'll be damned. The only difference here being Steve's head exploding, naturally.

I'll admit, I have trouble seeing where a giant 3 headed chimera beast that destroys a bunch of characters fits in at the end of the 1941 miniode, but I don't think 1941 is meant to be a stand in for the whole movie, because at that point in the movie the role of the main characters shifts to become the real versions of Shearsmith and Gatiss, not the characters. But even though the end of the movie doesn't track with 1941, I think the moral at the end is interesting : "In the church, Lipp says he will kill Gatiss. The other characters try to dissuade him, saying that once all the writers are dead, Royston Vasey will cease to exist and they will die. Lipp claims that they will in fact be better off, because as long as they're controlled by someone else they have no free will and can never change for the better. Tipps tells Lipp that because he saved the day and can therefore change, Lipp need not kill Gatiss. He persuades Lipp to hand him the gun, only for Tipps to accidentally fire it and kill Gatiss.

With all the writers now apparently dead, the residents of Royston Vasey prepare for the worst. Instead, everything calms down and The Apocalypse is averted. The characters realise they now have free will. Herr Lipp adopts some orphaned children, the vet, Mr Chinnery, finds a rabbit and is able to take care of it without killing it, and Bernice and Pauline become romantically involved. Tipps leaves the church, waving goodbye to Edward, Tubbs and Papa Lazarou. It appears that Royston Vasey can continue to exist independently of its dead creators." This struggle for free will outside of the plan originally set out by their creators, especially in the context of said creators not really caring about them anymore, really starts sending red flags up for me. Crowley's existential crisis at the beginning of S2E1 seems to be mulling over similar themes. The lack of any God narrator as in season 1 might be a change in storytelling technique, but might also point the the creator being absent, or having moved on without really letting her original creation know it gets to exist on it's own now. Funnily enough, this is the second movie with shot for shot quotes throughout, that places a specific set of characters at the center of their own deeper plot that has a meta level to the storytelling. I'm starting to think there's a pattern here...

_______________________________________ Here's my series on the Tales of Hoffmann, another movie hidden within the series.

#good omens meta #good omens 2 #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #go2

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cuckoo-on-a-string · 2 years

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Younger Gods: I

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader (unnamed)

Dream is protective of his ravens after Jessamy, and he's still bad at listening. The reader finds this out the hard way.

Warnings: extremely mild gore/injury to animal, language, Dream is his own warning

A/N: Playing a little fast and loose with dream physics, but we're just here for a good time, right? I read the comics an age ago, and thought I might as well pop back into the fandom for a quick swim after falling in love all over again via Netflix. Aiming for 5 chapters, but we'll see where this takes us.

*Remember, to like is kind but to comment/repost is divine.

**If you'd like to join the taglist, please let me know in the comments!

Chapter 1: Just don't bite me

“How did you get here?”

She stared at the injured raven hopping across her garden like it might open its beak and speak. Give her some answers. It’s eye fixed on her, pinning her even as it fought gravity and pain, flapping with a wing bent the wrong way.

Glossy black feathers hid the blood it left on the long grass. If it didn’t move like something hurt, didn’t struggle to hold up its broken wing, she’d never guess it had crashed into her little world by accident. Which brought her back to the question.

It fluffed the feathers around its neck in an attempt to look bigger, croaking as it shuffled farther away. Soft thunder purred in the clouds, and the steady rain dripped from the tip of the raven’s beak. She held up her hands. Sank low on her heels, as near to the raven’s level as she could reach without falling flat on her belly. If that’s what it took to earn its trust, though, she’d get a little muddy.

For all that it was uninvited, the bird was her guest now, and if she didn’t take care of it, it could never leave. Maybe it would haunt her. Maybe she’d just feel guilty as hell.

“You’re hurt.”

The raven twitched, its head tilting three different ways, studying her expression from varied angles, like it would reveal malicious intent in the right light. He could look all he wanted, but she needed to get him out of the rain.

She started unwinding the thick, knit scar from around her neck, speaking low in an effort to keep the bird calm. “I have something that can help. It’s just a salve, but you’ll heal much faster, and I’m sure you’d like to be on your way as soon as possible. But I’m going to take you inside first, so you can get warm and dry. The rain never really stops.”

Prepared with the folded cloth, she crept forward a few steps, giving the bird time to move away. When it didn’t, she closed the distance and muttered, “Just don’t bite me, okay?”

“No promises, witch,” the raven said.

Her hands stilled an inch away from his feathers. So, he was magic. Magic and rude as fuck.

She spluttered, “I’m not a witch.”

“Yeah?” The raven looked up at the clouds and down at her cottage. “Well, this place is weird. And so are you.”

“It was the best I could do.” She carefully wrapped the scarf around him, mindful of the bad wing – and the beak. “Sorry it doesn’t live up to your standards.”

Her first guest, and all he could do was insult all her hard work. He scoffed but held still in his swaddling as she pulled up to her chest and tramped back inside.

It wasn’t her fault it rained all time. Well, technically it was, actually, but she liked it. The water looked beautiful running down the windows, and the cozy fire glowed bright enough to warm a soul when the trees rustled in the wind. With rain hushing over the roof and a whisper of distant thunder to keep her company, she never felt lonely.

Tasteless corvid.

She set him down by the fireplace while she chose a good blanket to craft a makeshift nest. Only when she’d stripped off the scarf and moved him to the softer resting place did she tug off her own drenched sweater, shivering until she found a good replacement. Her wet hair clung to her neck as she pulled a sweater three sizes too big over her head. The sleeves dangled past her fingers, and she shoved them up past her elbows in thoughtless habit.

The bird hadn’t taken his eyes off her, but he still mustered enough faith to thank her. Sort of.

“This is… nice.”

It sounded like an olive branch, so she took it as one. The one room cottage was her haven. Even if it looked small and worn, she found it warm and soft, kind in the way a home ought to be.

“I like to think so.”

She moved to the workbench under the window that looked out to the garden, where she’d been sitting when the raven dropped out of the clouds with an all too human cry. Her fingertips ghosted over herbs and pots and potions as she looked for the little vial she wanted. She only finished it a week ago. It would take three months to make another. But that was alright. No one else really needed it.

When she knelt beside the bird, vial open and ready to drip over his injuries, he clacked his beak at her.

“Not a witch, huh?”

The wing felt so fragile in her hand. She couldn’t let him distract her. “My mother was. I’m… weird.”

“You can say that again.”

“This might hurt.”

“What do you -?” He broke off in a sharp caw, instinctively jerking away as she pulled his bones straight.

“Sorry, sorry. The worst is over now, I promise.”

He had a wonderfully colorful vocabulary for a raven, and he shouted a few rainbows while she wrapped his wing in the best position to heal. The white gauze practically glowed against his onyx plumage, and he looked just a little more pitiable.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

The bird shook himself, stretching and folding his good wing three times to push away the pain.

“Son of a bitch,” he hissed. “Fucking damn. Teach me to pay attention. Kids and their fucking rocks.” He’d been staring into the fire as he recovered his equilibrium, but once he could pause his cursing, the bird looked back at his host.

“Name’s Matthew. What do I call you, weird girl who isn’t a witch?”

She shrugged. “Whatever you like.”

“I was asking for your name, lady.”

“I don’t have one I can give you.”

“That’s not helpful.” He looked around the room, probably on the hunt for something to critique, and although his beak opened, it snapped shut again when he looked back over his shoulder. He stared at her in the firelight, but not at her face. “What happened to your neck, lady?”

Her hand flew up to cover the scars, a landscape of smooth, raised, and sunken marks ringing her throat. She’d forgotten when she took off the scarf. Horror and humiliation twisted in her stomach, and she was wildly aware of being ugly and vulnerable in the same breath. Instead of answering, she rushed back to her closet, pulling out an even longer knit piece than the one she’d wrapped the bird – Matthew – in outside.

He picked up on the subtext, deflating a little and pointedly changing the subject.

“How long will this magic potion of yours take? I need to get back to the Dreaming. My boss is waiting for me.”

The scarf’s tail dropped from numb fingers, one loop short of her goal, left to trail on the ground as she wondered how the fuck her day could get any worse.

“The Dreaming?”

“Yeah. Know of many other realms with talking ravens, lady?”

“No,” she admitted, cursing herself in the privacy of her own thoughts. “It will take a couple days for you to fly again, I think.”

“That’s no good.” Matthew pecked at his bandages, and she rushed over.

“Stop that. You’ll make it worse.”

“Can’t fly with this,” he said, mouth full of gauze.

“You can’t fly without them, either,” she said gently.

Giving up with an enormous sigh, the raven wriggled down into the blanket and glowered through the window at the continuous rain. A little bolt of lighting reflected in his gleaming eye, like an idea sparking to life.

“Your weird little house is pretty close, you know,” he said. “To the Dreaming, I mean. I bet you could walk there.”

“It takes a day to walk in or out.”

“Why?”

“Because I made it that way.”

“Oh, you’re definitely weird.” He paused, like he was finally noticing the blanket nest and the empty vial glittering by the warm flames. When he spoke again, he sounded the slightest bit contrite. “Weird but nice. And I still need your help.”

“I don’t want to go to the Dreaming, Matthew.” She couldn’t bring her voice to carry more than a whisper. She was so afraid of her dreams she didn’t even sleep anymore. Not much. Walking into the fertile fields of the Dream Lord’s imagination…

“You don’t have to go in,” the raven insisted. “Just get me to the gates and I’ll be someone else’s problem. I promise.”

She couldn’t answer. She really didn’t dare. The laws of hospitality urged her to pick up the bird and carry him wherever he wanted to go, and he made it all sound so reasonable, so easy. Just a stroll and a hand over to a friendly face eager to welcome him back. It wasn’t, though. Oh, the walk was fine. She came and went from her hideaway world all the time, but her heart thrummed in terror to even think of the Dreaming. Was she really so close? Her home didn’t feel as safe as it had that morning. The security of the cozy storm left something wanting now. None of this was designed to keep other entities out. It was just… out of the way. On the other hand, if she left the bird – one of Dream’s ravens! – here to recover and his master came for him, it would never be a sanctuary ever again.

Maybe… if she was quick…

“I’ll –” Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’ll try. I’ll walk you to the gates.”

“Thank you.” At least he sounded like he meant it. Lack of gratitude wouldn’t change her mind at this point, but she appreciated it. Walking twelve hours with a rude bird muttering under his breath didn’t sound like the fun kind of adventure.

None of this sounded like the fun kind of adventure.

Fun adventures involved late night diners and questionable life choices after two bottles of wine.

“My master needs me,” Matthew said, like he still needed to prove his point.

That was fine. That was great. Dream would be missing his raven soon. She was tempted to take a faster mode of travel, but she wasn’t sure what that would do to the raven, so she hurried to gather everything she’d need for the walk instead. Tall rainboots, a hooded jacket, and two shawls. She wrapped one around Matthew to keep him warm and tied the other around herself like a sling. With the bird nestled close to her natural warmth, she charged back into the rain. She didn’t even take the time to bank the fire.

Matthew, apparently, decided her rush was entirely for his benefit. “Thanks for this. I mean it.”

She paused at the edge of the garden, standing in the gap in the stone wall as she studied the horizon, looking for something to tell her where to go.

“Which way to the Dreaming?”

Matthew fidgeted and jerked his beak at a random point. “There. I can’t see it, but I can feel it, you know?”

She didn’t know or she wouldn’t have asked, but her breath was better saved for walking. Nearly running, she sped through the emerald green grass and low white flowers in the verdant moss. She didn’t look. Didn’t appreciate. Didn’t stop to touch, or pick, or smell. If she had the stamina to run the twelve hours, she would.

Pattering rain sounded louder inside her hood, and the sky broiled with clouds promising a real storm.

Maybe he could hear her heart pounding by his ear, or he finally realized she was moving awfully quickly for someone who didn’t want to go on this trip in the first place. Whatever his inspiration, Matthew dragged their conversation back from the dead to persuade her she’d made the right choice as she forded a narrow stream.

“You don’t have to be afraid of Dream,” he said. “If he’s upset, it will be with me. You’re doing me a favor.” He paused, struck by a new through that almost immediately spewed out his beak. “You’re not old enemies or something, are you?”

“No. I’ve never met him. I’d rather not meet him today.”

Matthew croaked. “Why not?”

Sometimes the truth was the simplest path to peace, and she’d like the bird to shut up for a while. “I have bad dreams. I don’t want to get any closer to them. Thanks.”

“You know, he could do something about that.”

“I don’t like favors.”

“But I’d argue he owes you one.”

“I’d argue that I don’t care.”

More croaking, this time accompanied by rustling from his safely bound wings. She remembered ravens were in the business of knowing things, watching and listening until they could deliver a secret whole and unbroken to their master. Her cagey replies must bother him on some deeper level.

“So why are you doing this? You clearly don’t want to.”

“Because you were hurt. You needed help. And I don’t want your master to come looking for you here.”

He cast incredible side-eye for a creature wrapped in home-knit outerwear strapped to a stranger’s chest.

But at least he shut-up.

It was the perfect landscape for long walks. She’d designed it that way. Gently rolling hills melted into copses of trees just too small to be forests but deep enough to lose the daylight below the tangled canopy. Any other day, she’d enjoy this trek. But now she wondered if she’d ever be able to enjoy it again, knowing which direction the Dreaming lay and how close it pressed to her border.

She slogged up the hills and slipped down the muddy sides, careful not to tumble and crush the fragile bird she carried against her chest. She slipped through the woods, ignoring the sweet smell of old loam and dried leaves. When the heavy rain came down in a curtain as the crested the last hill, she pushed through that, too.

The raven stayed awake for the entire trip. She shaved a full three hours off her usual time, and she reached the end exhausted. She should’ve packed a stimulant. Maybe an energy drink. Maybe a potion. Something. She had to get herself back home after this.

A field stretched to the cusp of oblivion, a black void at the edge of the turf her mind fought not to notice. She walked to the edge, slowing until she came to the brink, and then she had no ideas.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well, you’re not a raven,” Matthew said. “I see where we need to go. Just trust me. There’s a path a few feet to the left.”

She shuffled obediently to the side, but she still saw nothing.

“Just take a step,” the bird insisted. “I’ll guide you through it.”

She didn’t want to. Every instinct from every element of her pedigree screamed that this was a Bad Idea. Relying on blind faith and a raven’s intuition might lead her into the Dreaming, but she bet she’d have a long fall someone with wings wouldn’t consider a problem. Some little oversight would swallow her whole, and nightmare would eat her alive, or she’d be trapped in her own night terrors.

“Why don’t I just leave you here?” She could hear the panic in her wobbling pitch, and her trembling hands banished any doubt as she reached for the knot in the sling.

“I thought you didn’t want Morpheus to come looking for me in your weird little bubble realm.”

She closed her eyes. Drew a shaky breath. No, she didn’t want that, but would it be worse than voluntarily stepping into that darkness? The raven couldn’t protect her. He wouldn’t even know what was safe for her, really. He was flying on a lot of assumptions, and she didn’t want to pay the price for his optimistic naivety.

“I don’t know what the void will do to me,” she confessed. “I’ve never actually… touched it.”

“It won’t do anything,” the raven said. “And it’s so thin you won’t even notice. The Dreaming is right there.”

Fucking hell. Her hands seized air, opening and closing like she could snatch courage out of thin air. Damn it all.

She lunged into the thing she didn’t even want to look at, and for the barest moment, she felt it. Nothing. No pulse. No breath. No thought or feeling at all. A gap stretched between past and present, like she’d been snuffed out – or never began to exist in the first place.

Then her momentum carried her through in a boggling mess of physics, and she was somewhere again.

Air punched into empty lungs, and she stumbled, nearly falling to her knees as light, sound, and her own heartbeat returned.

“Whoa! Hey! Watch out for the water!”

Matthew’s shout brought her eyes down, and she saw dark waves lapping at her feet, sucking them into the black sand as the foam tried to climb up and over her rain boots. The fact that sea foam was trying to do anything clued her into the water’s threat, and she darted away with her newly-beating heart in her throat.

“Well done. You see? Not so bad. You’re fine.”

It had been one of the worst experiences in her fucked-up life, and she might’ve told him so if she had the breath. Instead, she barely managed to mutter, “I think I hate you.”

“Nah.”

She stopped to push the last of the void from her lungs, sucking in oxygen like she’d never tasted it before, and the sensation stirred several memories she couldn’t take time to stop and fight. Not on the shores of the Dreaming. Not so close to the Lord of Nightmares. She wrestled them down, threw other thoughts and needs over them like a rug over a stain. Her horrors would have to wait until she slept again, and she planned on putting that off for a long, long time.

When she felt ready and able to move again, she asked, “Where to now?”

“The gates,” he said, like he thought she was the stupid creature alive.

She looked away from her feet and finally noticed the looming doors further down the beach. Silently, she had to agree that she was, in fact, incredibly stupid. They were hard to miss, taller than a skyscraper, carved over in faces, beasts, and scenes she didn’t recognize, gleaming like aged ivory. Beautiful and awe-inspiring in the way an angel or the Milky way inspired reverence and respect. Something a little too vast for her to grasp, but towering over her regardless.

Yeah. Time to get this over with.

As she power-walked across the cold sand, shadowed by the rocks piercing out of the waves, she unknotted the sling and pulled Matthew out of his cocoon.

“This bus has come to the end of its route,” she said. “We hope you’ve enjoyed your trip.”

The raven cackled, trying to stretch his wing in spite of the way she still cradled him. “You find a sense of humor in the void?”

“No, just a sense of relief. Seriously. Watch where you’re flying next time. I won’t have another healing salve like a gave you for several months, so if you do this again, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” He was all but straining forward in her hands, eager to get home, to complete his mission and reassure his master that all was well. “You sure you don’t want to meet my master? Or Lucienne?”

It didn’t matter she didn’t know who Lucienne was. She didn’t need to meet any more dreams – or servants of dreams. “Very.”

“So, you’re just going to ding-dong-ditch Dream of the Endless?”

“Yup.”

“Suit yourself.”

The sand made it harder to keep her pace, sliding away under her heels, sapping her strength as she hurried to drop her guest off at his front door. Waves of power rolled down from the high wall, and she felt trapped against the tide of Dream’s domain and the dark ocean lapping up the shore behind her. Everything looked grand and stark. She didn’t belong with her green boots and her rain-slicked jacket. The hood had fallen back, and a damp strand decided to stick on her cheek. With her hands full of bird, she had no way to pull it off.

Cold, wet, disheveled.

Tired.

Afraid.

She was ready for this adventure to end.

“How are you going to get back through the void?” the bird asked.

She shook her head, amazed. “You just thought to ask that? Never mind. I have a shortcut.”

“What kind of shortcut? Why did we just walk for nine hours in the rain?”

She plucked at the end of the second shawl, the one she used to keep him warm on that nine-hour trip through the storm. Such gratitude.

“Because I didn’t know what it would do to you.”

“I can survive the void, lady, you think your shortcut’s tougher than that?”

How far away was the damn gate? Would this beach never end?

“All that matters,” she panted, “is that you’re going home. I’m going home.” She turned the bird in her hands so they were eye-to-eye. “And we will never have to see each other again.”

Sounding more human than ever, the bird tutted, but whatever he wanted to say was swallowed in a sudden, sharp wind.

The austere stillness consumed itself in a rage, lifting black sand and sea spray into an impenetrable haze. One second, she could see the gate. The next, she could barely see three feet in front of her. Shielding her eyes from the sand with one arm, she instinctively tucked the bird close, bending over him protectively. The grit gave the wind claws, and it lashed her bare flesh raw.

What have you done with my raven?

The question pressured her from all sides, a crushing, physical weight ringing in her ears as it forced her to cower in on herself. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t breathe. Matthew squawked and fluttered in her arms, flopping free with half a scarf still wrapped around him, tangled in his claws. “Sir, wait! Sir!”

The raven’s call settled the hurricane, but the overwhelming pressure remained. The lingering effect of the voice pressed against her soul like a death knell as a figure gathered itself, standing between the two travelers and the gate. The raven struggled towards the tall, dark shape, and she all but slapped herself in the face in her fight to get the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

Matthew called the newcomer sir.

She was peering up at Dream of the Endless.

He knelt to accept the bird, face dark as a nightmare. Long, pale fingers explored the broken wing. When they pulled away, a few rusty crumbs of blood clung to the pads, and eyes burning with angry stars lifted to pierce her.

He asked again, “What have you done with my raven?”

This time the voice was a voice, not a force of nature. He sounded like smoke and sand, deep and sure as the ocean at her back. That voice might scour her away like a rough patch in his perfect Dreaming, and nothing in his tone said she was welcome.

Now she felt like the raven – a little bird with a hoarse cry and hollow bones all too easy to snap.

“You hurt something of mine.” A snarl carved into his face, and even as Matthew squawked for his lord’s attention, the Dream Lord reached out.

His shadow stretched long and dark from his feet, against the light. It crept towards her, darker than the black shore, and she stumbled over her own feet as she backed away, landing hard on her hands.

“I didn’t,” she whispered. Her voice was long gone. It fled and left her to die whimpering and pathetic, the traitor. Scrambling back as the shadow approached, she shook her head. “Please, don’t.”

Cawing and flapping, Matthew shouted, “Sir, stop!”

The shadow slowed, just for an instant, and she leapt to her feet. Tears burning her eyes from fear and grit, she ran three steps back, never daring to take her eyes off the threatening Endless. She clawed into her own mind, grabbing for the half of herself she preferred to leave wandering the sky over her cottage. A rumble drew Dream’s eyes to the dark clouds gathering at the edge of the Dreaming, and she saw his eyes flick back to her just as the lightning struck.

Her summoned bolt traced down to catch her up in a flash of burning light. The crackle was almost unbearable, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and Dream’s shadow was still snaking after her.

She wasn’t there when the shadow reached the place she’d stood. The lightning blast reached through her to the ground and then back up into the clouds. It took her with it.

An echoing strike deposited her in the cottage garden.

She fell to her hands and knees as the power zapped away into the sky. Mud squished up between her fingers, and she shuddered in place, too busy shaking to move. Rain rolled down her face, cleaning the salt of sweat, tears, and sea. Her limbs felt impossibly heavy after weightless, electric travel, and she bowed to the animal urge to just freeze in place for a while. She needed to think. Maybe then she could remember how to stand.

An Endless wanted her dead. Dream, no less. She had more reason than ever to stay awake. Maybe she could find a trick to avoid sleep forever.

But his raven knew where she lived, and it wasn’t a long trip.

She needed to run.

Chapter 2

#morpheus #morpheus x reader #sandman x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #fanfiction

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fractualized · 5 months

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2023 Batjokes Secret Santa Round-Up

Happy holidays! Big thanks to everyone who participated in the exchange this year. Gifts are listed below, split between art and fic, and SFW and NSFW. (Most art titles are unofficial, just text for me to link.)

90% of the gifts are batjokes; nonbatjokes are at the end of each section. I’ve included some other notes and warnings with the links, but as usual it’s on you to check fic tags.

🎄 SFW Art

Summer Selfie [Lego Batman] by arcthie

Lego Meme/Holiday Wrapping/Shark Repellent [Lego Batman, DOTF] by batjokestm

Joker by botoartist

Destined Dance [Telltale] by chokit-pyrus

Team-Up Selfie by clownedcrime

Under the Mistletoe by flurpyz

Gentleman's Arrest by the-hopeless-fanboy

Caught in the Spotlight by kitty-cat-boi

Partners [Telltale] by Koda

Christmas Sweaters [Batman '66] by garrett-strangelove

Cozy Christmas Evening [Telltale] by maple-chuu

Christmas Headgear [Telltale] by m-e-f-y

Rooftop Dance by metionohre

Caught by pipermint8magic

The Joke's On You [Batman '66] by Nex

His Bat and His Clown by occultkings

Playing Cards by pinkopalina

Keeping A Promise by powrbottomjoker

Visiting Room by riddlekid

I Won't Tell [genderbend] by Star

Loving Embrace [TDKR] by stewbud

Snow Globe [Telltale] by stryx123

Knife Dance [BTAS] by vongeist

Eye to Eye [riddlebird] by foolcunting

The Heart Outweighs All [twiddler, mild gore] by Ingo

Well-Trained [Punchline/James Jr] by venombiote

Wallypillar [Welcome Home] by marxtheimpish

Octogoblin Christmas [Spider-Man] by moxis

🎁 SFW Fic

Normal People Things (Rated Mature) by bang-the-smoke

once isn't enough (Rated Mature) by batsyjokes

This Strange Effect (Rated Explicit, but not in chapter 1) by battybrownboo

A Fine Addition To My Collection (Rated Teen and Up) by darkpurpledawn

What to Get for the Man Who Has Everything (Rated Teen and Up) by faygomonkey

kiss me (you animal) (Rated Teen and Up) by luxamea

That Deathless Death (Rated Mature; vampire Bruce) by superherogrl

I’ll Be Your Mirror [Breaking Bad; Mike/Jesse] (Rated Mature) by TheDykeKnight

🎅 NSFW Art

Hello Nurse [bondage] by drones-art

Lazy Morning Breakfast [pregnant Joker] by Emilia

Santa Lingerie by K

Tunnel of Love [TDKR] by Mara's shelter

Threshold by razzbatty

Men of Science [extremely dubious consent, Arkham staff] by Ring

⛄ NSFW Fic

let our bodies be awoken (Rated Explicit; zombies) by distortopia

I want to make you proud and play with your head (Rated Explicit; AU) by fractualized

If I missed your gift, let me know and I’ll add it.

Happy Holidays!

#batjokes #BatjokesSanta #BatjokesSanta_nsfw #fan art #fanfic #secret santa #xmas

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alittlehurtwithyourcomfort · 3 months

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The Dragon Prince Whumplist

Character: Callum (voiced by Jack DeSena)

Age Rating: TV-Y7 (FV)

Show available on Netflix

Genre: Animation, Found Family, Action, Adventure, Fantasy

Synopsis: In the magical land of Xadia, magic comes from six primal sources: the sun, moon, stars, sky, earth and ocean. When human mages create a seventh kind of magic -- dark magic -- they start capturing and harvesting the unique magical creatures they need as ingredients, which sparks a war between Xadia and the Human Kingdoms. Three kids from opposite sides of the conflict -- two princes and an elven assassin sent to kill them -- discover a secret that could change everything and decide to join forces and go on an epic journey. That trek could be their only hope of ending the war and restoring peace to both worlds. (Via Google)

Notes: This show is GOOD. If you like ATLA, you'll enjoy this. It gets progressively darker and more violent as the show goes on, so fair warning for that. The relationships between the characters are amazing, and there's also great diverse representation! I highly recommend.

TW's: Violence, mild blood/gore (audio/visual gets worse in later seasons), death, child abuse/neglect, child endangerment, emetophobia (very mild), mild torture

List Key:

bold = most whump, best whump, or favorite whump scenes

~ = a scene break

THIS LIST CONTAINS MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

1x01: sparring ~~ upset, argued

1x02: teary-eyed, emotional goodbye ~~ knocked around, holding his head ~~ threatened

1x03: betrayed, stressed ~~ manhandled, restrained, voice taken (by magic), heavy breathing ~~ scared, gets voice back and coughing ~~ terrified, shocked and teary-eyed, out of breath

1x04: stressed ~~ held at swordpoint

1x05: stressed

1x06: extremely worried, scared

1x07: emotional conversation, stressed

1x08: scared

1x09: scared, stressed

2x01: sad, stressed

2x02: extremely emotional, sobbing ~~ grieving

2x03: grieving, worried, teary-eyed ~~ sobbing, comforted ~~ betrayed

2x04: stressed

2x05: grieving, stressed

2x06: crying

2x07: glowing eyes, passes out, concern for him ~~ helped to stand, weak

2x08: helped to walk, delirious, weak ~~ in pain, delirious, unconscious ~~ terrifying dreams ~~ concern for him ~~ struggling to breathe, concern for him

2x09: still struggling to breathe, held, concern for him, wakes up gasping

3x01: stressed

3x02: none

3x03: stressed

3x04: stressed

3x05: stressed

3x06: emotional

3x07: out of breath, almost passes out

3x08: frustrated

3x09: stressed ~~ choked, gasping for air ~~ crying, terrified, almost falls

4x01: stressed ~~ startled ~~ solemn, crying

4x02: stressed, startled

4x03: angry ~~ solemn

4x04: angry ~~ scared, choking, half-collapsed, possessed, body puppeteered, glowing eyes ~~ still possessed, concern for him, collapsed, unconscious, held

4x05: crying, choked up ~~ emotional conversation

4x06: stressed

4x07: emotional conversation, "i need you to kill me", talking about possession

4x08: stressed ~~ sleeping spell, weak, collapsed unconscious

4x09: rough awakening, scared

5x01: stressed

5x02: stressed

5x03: stressed

5x04: terrified, worried about his aunt

5x05: stressed

5x06: none

5x07: half-collapsed, magical exhaustion, struggling to breathe, helped to stand, supported, concern for him ~~ tired ~~ hands chained behind his back, chin grabbed/manhandled

5x08: unconscious, chained to a pole, shaky breathing, slowly waking up, scared, threatened, electrocuted/beaten (off-screen)~~ slowly waking up, still chained, blood and bruises on his face, heavy breathing, in pain, chin grabbed/manhandled ~~ scared ~~ manhandled, hands chained behind his back, stumbling, collapsed/forced to his knees, concern for him, weak ~~ extremely worried, yelling, angry, knocked out ~~ chained, struggling, pained voice, collapsed ~~ weak, "blood freezing", choked, gasping in pain, struggling, dropped, struggling to breathe, concerned ~~ sad, concern for him, hugged, guilty

5x09: concerned ~~ slammed into the ground, restrained

#whump #whump community #whumplist #whump blog #whumplists #whump recs #whump list #animated whump

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babyjakes · 6 months

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forever and a day | 54. you didn't.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!) →

summary | a story in which america’s favorite captain gives a new life and family to a five-year-old girl who has suffered well beyond her years at the hands of hydra.

characters | dad!steve rogers, girl/willa rogers (original character)

warnings | AU similar enough to OU to include spoilers to many Marvel movies (Age of Ultron and beyond). action and fight scenes with violence and killing. injuries/mild gore. mature themes related to and semi-graphic depictions of child abuse/neglect, past CSA and CSM, and their aftermath (emaciation, wounds, scarring, etc). medical abuse (including sterilization) and experimentation. ptsd/trauma symptoms in a child (developmental discrepancies, de-humanized behavior, detachment, extreme fears). medical treatment of CSM and other aftermath of abuse.trauma-informed therapeutic treatment of ECT. minor mentions of disordered eating. themes relating to abuse of power/authority and immoral interrogation tactics including SA (with brief depictions.) evil!Tony Stark.

[Steve]

If the night at Bucky's had been an isolated incident, I wouldn't have thought much about it. Unfortunately, in the days that have followed, things have only seemed to get more and more difficult for Willa.

It started the following morning, when I woke up around 5:00am to find the little girl in the bed next to me, bawling her eyes out. I had quickly switched on the bedside lamp, checking her over to see what was the matter, and I found her to be in the grips of a seemingly hellish night terror. She had no mind channel open, no crimson glow, so there was no way for me to know what she was dreaming of. Immediately, I had gathered her in my arms, rocking and soothing her as best I could while simultaneously hoping to rouse her from her torturous sleep. But it was no use; she was far too deep in the nightmare to break free. She flailed and sobbed and sputtered incoherently for hours, and all I could do was hold her and watch. By the time 7:00am rolled around, she finally woke up, and at that point she was inconsolable.

I couldn't get anything out of her that entire morning. She had fought her way out of my arms and crawled deep under my blankets, and I simply had no heart to remove her. I tried coaxing her out with the promise of cuddles, breakfast, and even her favorite movie, but nothing worked. Eventually, I decided to leave her alone and let her determine when she felt safe to come out, but she ended up staying there for most of the day. When she did finally emerge, she was a puddle of tears, her eyes begging for comfort and reassurance. But at the same time, she wouldn't let me come anywhere near her. When bedtime came around again, I offered to let her sleep with me in my room for another night, and she surprised me greatly by agreeing to it.

Through the night, she had another horrific nightmare, one so terrifying that it sent her jumping out of the bed in fear when she awoke. As soon as she saw me waiting for her with the lamp on, a deeply concerned expression drawn on my face, she grew so afraid of being punished that she began hyperventilating, eventually passing out from her compromised airflow. In the agonizing process of her panic attack, she wet herself again, and it was at that point that I decided I needed to speak with Jenny.

"Did anything happen in the days leading up to her shift in behavior that might've been cause for such a regression?" the mild young lady asks as she sits across from me in the living room. Resting back against the soft cushions of the sofa, I pick apart the past week in my mind, ultimately unable to identify anything.

"No," I sigh with a shake of my head. "There were small incidents here and there, but that's always the way it's been with her. Nothing major happened, at least, not that I can think of." It's now later in the morning, and Jenny and I are wrapping up a last-minute session I requested while Willa plays in her room. The doctor started off speaking with the child herself, but after half an hour or so of not getting much response at all, she decided to come out and work with me instead.

"I see," Jenny notes, scribbling something down on her legal pad. Closing up her pen, she brings her eyes up to meet mine, a familiar sense of warmth and patience lingering in her gaze. "Steve, with everything that Willa's gone through, her road to recovery isn't going to be as smooth as any of us would like it to be." I nod, not sure where the doctor could be going with a statement like that. "And even though things seem like they're getting worse with her, this is actually a pattern that's seen quite frequently with survivors of abuse and trauma who've recently escaped. Willa's body and mind were suppressing a lot of emotions, a lot of fear during her captivity, and even at the tower due to the things Tony did; her system couldn't handle addressing these feelings, so it shut them out. Now that she's in a truly safe place, with a safe person who only loves her and takes care of her, those things are beginning to show themselves because it's safe for them to." A wave of relief washes over me as the woman finishes her explanation, and I let out a deep hum.

"So this... is normal?" I ask. She nods.

"It's a difficult part of the process, since it might seem to both of you like things are getting worse when they should be getting better, but it's really just a sign that her body and mind are ready to start doing some deeper repair."

"I see. That's..." my voice trails off as I bring a hand up to brush through my hair. "That's so good to hear," I finish honestly. "I was really worried that I had done something wrong, or was messing up in some way."

"I don't think you need to worry about that, Steve, not at all. You're doing a phenomenal job with Willa. She just adores you." A faint smile crosses my face as I think of the little girl, and how much love and care I hold for her in my heart as well. "As far as dealing with her new or returning behavior, I'd recommend allowing her to get it out, as much as you possibly can. A big part of her might just need to respond in the way her body originally wanted to. She might need to go through the act of being scared or crying or getting sick, since those were all responses that were made impossible for her up until now. In regards to the increased accidents, it's a very common indicator of sexual trauma in children. I know it's frustrating, but try to be as patient with her about it as you can."

"No, no- it's not even frustrating," I assure her quickly, meaning the words with all my heart. "Really, it's not. It's not a hassle when it happens, not at all; it just makes me so worried."

"I know it's alarming to see her regressing in that sense, but it's totally normal and shouldn't pose an issue permanently as long as she remains in a safe environment where she isn't violated sexually. We're just meeting her where she's at, if that makes sense, and where she's at might go forward or backward for a while before we really start making linear progress. I know you know this already, but Willa is in many ways somewhat younger than five still, at least internally. And that's okay. We just have to let her exist at whatever developmental age she's at."

"And you think- you're sure it's okay? That I'm kind of, well- I don't know, kind of 'babying' her, as Tony would say?" I ask, wanting to be sure the doctor still approves of my controversial approach. Jenny smiles, allowing me to relax even more with relief.

"Yes, that's completely acceptable. Actually, it's probably very therapeutic for her system to be allowed to have those critical early childhood experiences that she was deprived of for so long. Whatever helps her feel safe and secure, even if it's meant for younger kids, is completely fine."

"Good," I nod, feeling slightly more sure about myself as a parent from all of Jenny's encouragement. "I'm sorry she wasn't up to working with you today," I apologize again, "I told her you were coming and asked her to do her best to be open and honest, but... I don't know. At the same time, I don't have much heart to push her."

"It's completely fine," Jenny reassures me once more, shaking her head at my persistent apologizing. "Therapy isn't ever something that should be forced upon a child. She'll talk when she's ready." Glancing down at her notepad, she offers, "I was wondering, though, if maybe the three of us could wrap up the session together? I believe Willa's still playing by herself in her room, and a lot of times children can be demonstrative of what they're thinking or feeling through the ways that they play. Maybe we could sit in with her for a little bit, if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all," I tell her, earning a smile as she rises to her feet.

"Alright, then," she says with a nod. "I'll let you lead the way."

Leading the woman back through the house, I stop just outside the child's half-open door, knocking a few times against the sturdy wood before pulling it the rest of the way open. Willa sits on the floor beside her bed, a few toys scattered around her as she holds a small wooden doll in her hands. Her big green eyes meet mine warily, and my heart sinks as she begins to tremble. "Hey sweetheart," I greet gently. For a moment, I remember that just a few days ago, she would beam every time I entered the room. Realizing that we're back to such a state of fear and uncertainty, a tinge of disappointment builds up inside of me. But then, I remember the doctor's words, and I'm able to remind myself that Willa's behavior is actually probably a good sign, in some weird way. "Things are starting to show themselves because it's safe for them to."

"Your daddy and I were wondering if we could sit and play with you for a little bit," the young lady's soothing voice overlaps her previous words running through my head. A look of skepticism forms on the little girl's face as she glances between the two of us, but thankfully after a few more moments, she nods. "Wonderful," Jenny says with a smile, and we enter in, both sitting a few feet back to give the child some space.

"What're you playing, Willa-bug?" I ask in a gentle tone, now able to get a better look at the toys she's taken out of her boxes. She has a bathtub and a sandbox from a dollhouse set, as well as Captain America and Ironman figurines, and the little brown-haired doll she's holding in her hand. The clothes are half torn off the doll, the hair messed and tangled. Big, frightened eyes look from the doll to me, and then back. "Who've you got there?"

"Willa," she says simply, holding up the doll that seems to represent herself. I nod.

"Is Willa getting dressed?" Jenny asks politely.

Swallowing hard, Willa shakes her head. "Off," she mumbles, removing the toy's purple dress and placing it on the floor. She then removes the doll's underwear as well, leaving it completely naked. Next, she reaches over and picks up the sandbox, opening up the cover. Almost urgently, she begins to dig, not stopping until she's created a little hole in the center. Then, she takes the Willa doll, placing it in the center of the hole. A lump forms in my throat as she buries the tiny pair of underpants with it, not paying any mind to the dress.

"Oh, you're... is Willa playing in the sand?" I ask, trying to understand the child's actions. Not giving a response, Willa simply continues with her scene, picking up the Ironman action figure and extending its arm. Clumsily, she begins using the plastic hand of the figurine to begin shuffling sand back over the doll that represents herself. "Willa, sweetie, what- what is Ironman doing?" I question carefully.

Once the wooden doll and her underwear have disappeared completely beneath the sand, Willa extends the other arm of the superhero's body, making them now both stick out straight. With a concerning amount of force, she begins jabbing the hands into the sand, uncomfortable sounds of plastic and wood colliding as the man apparently attacks the girl. Glancing over at Jenny, I see that her brow is furrowed in concentration. All I can hope is that she's understanding what Willa's actions mean, because to be completely honest, I have no idea what to make of any of it.

After several more moments of the violent motions, Willa finally stops, putting Ironman's arms back down and dropping him to the floor. Sifting through the sand, Willa pulls out the wooden doll, shaking her off slightly before finding her purple dress and redressing her. Turning back to the sandbox for a moment, she uses a single finger to re-bury the underpants, causing my brain to ache with questions and concerns. When satisfied with the way the piece of clothing is hidden, Willa picks up the bathtub, once again removing the doll's dress before placing her in the tub, coming to what seems to be a stopping point.

"Sweetheart?" I ask quietly, unable to even form my thoughts into a question.

"Can you tell us what you're doing, Willa?" Jenny fills in for me. "Willa's taking a bath now?" The little girl nods. "What about Daddy? He's with you when you take baths, right?" she continues, picking up Captain America off the floor and offering it to the child. To my surprise, Willa shakes her head, pushing the doll away. Jenny lets her. "No help from Daddy? Okay, that's okay, hun," the doctor says quickly, wanting to avoid upsetting the chidl.

"What was... what happened in the sandbox, honey?" I ask, not sure if I should be asking so many questions but ultimately too worried to refrain from doing so. Willa flinches slightly at my question, her bottom lip quivering as she gives me nothing but silence in return. "Okay, it's okay, sweetheart," I coo soothingly, not wanting to push the subject too hard, "that's okay, you don't have to tell us."

"How about you keep playing, sweetie," Jenny suggests, "it's okay. You said Willa was in the bath?" The small girl nods, looking back down at her toys before pulling the doll out of the tub, redressing her in her purple gown. Then, the child surprises both me and the doctor by repeating the same exact process all over again, starting with digging out the underpants in the sandbox, putting them back on the doll, and then completely undressing it.

My brow creases in perplexion as I watch Willa 'play,' her motions almost seeming like a routine or ritual that her body knows by heart. She repeats the entire scene once, then twice, and by the point in which she's buried herself a third time with her underwear, preparing the Ironman doll to perform his assault, I finally speak again, causing the child to pause. "Willa," I breathe, my heart pounding faintly in my ears. "What are you doing?"

Her wary gaze rises to meet mine and she blinks, her arm beginning to tremble as she clutches the action figure tightly.

"Could you explain it to us?" Jenny adds, her voice laced with concern. "What is Ironman doing to Willa?"

"Why is she buried with her underwear?" I ask, earning a glance of warning from the doctor. Sighing, I take a moment to breathe, not wanting to say anything I might regret. "What is- sweetheart," I murmur as I notice the poor thing's eyes filling with tears. "What is Tony doing to you?"

"Hurting me," she concedes, her voice barely loud enough to hear. Her big green eyes peer up at mine and beg for what she's too afraid to out loud: to not hurt her, myself, to not be angry with her for expressing her feelings with her toys.

"Okay, Willa-bug," I nod, not completely understanding but deciding that at the moment, I don't really need to. My biggest priority for now has to be showing Willa that she's safe and that she's not in trouble for what she's admitted. "What if- how about Daddy comes and helps you?" I offer hopefully, taking the Captain America figure from Jenny carefully and holding it up for the little girl to see. "How about Daddy comes and protects you?"

"N-no," Willa refuses, picking up her sandbox and holding it slightly closer to herself, almost in a protective manner.

"Why not, sweetheart? How about Daddy comes and- comes and makes Tony stop, stops him from hurting you," I try, reaching out with the figure and trying to place it in the sandbox with the other two characters. Unexpectedly, Willa jerks it away, bits of sand spilling out from the sides as a look of anger forms on the child's face, a look I've never seen before. "Willa, please-" I insist, extending a hand to take hold of the sandbox.

But to my complete surprise, instead of pulling back again or allowing me, Willa throws the entire thing at me, sand dumping all over my clothes as she snaps, "No. You don't. You didn't."

As the dust settles into my lap and I blink away the sand from my eyes, I'm met with the sight of Willa staring back at me, any indication of anger or frustration completely drained from her face. Her eyes are as wide as saucers as she gawks at me, as if she, herself, can't believe what she's done. And before I can say anything, before I can reassure her or even try to calm her fears, she's jolted up onto her feet, running right out of her bedroom door.

← last chapter | series masterlist | next chapter (coming soon!) →

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still-a-morosexual-help · 3 days

Text

unnamed gender neutral MC x Mammon Fic Update:

The Vacancy (Chapter 1 link)

New Update -> Chapter 5 (link) - The Feast

Chapter Warnings: (Accidental?) Self-Harm, Flies & Maggots, Mild Gore, Unreliable Narrator

*is2g this is a happy fic

**MC's just really fucking insane

***some questions are finally answered

Summary:

What they have always wanted was a place to belong. A place for themselves, full of love and purpose and family. Where people were happy to greet them each morning. Where their existence mattered. Isn't that what everyone wanted?

Wouldn't you do anything, everything , to find that place?

Tags: •Alternate Universe •Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting •Horror •Psychological Horror •Body Horror •Fluff •Twisted & Fluffy Feelings •Mild Gore •Unhealthy Relationships •Happy Ending •Cults •Human Sacrifice •Self-Harm

Rating: M

Comments? Kudos? Reblogs? Theories? Hugs & Kisses? Questions? Just wanna say Hi or talk? All Welcome! And extremely loved and appreciated - Sam🐸🩷

Tag List (if you want to be added like this -> post. If you want to be removed lemme know);

@ashplsstfu

@kadythethief

@aspiring--cryptid

@wanderwelle

@sansarawheelvictim

@nagitokomaeda-the69th

@knight-clover

@butterflywaffle

@believemeimeverywhere

@weareparanoidcynicalpeople

@jolynetodd

@lunaslemons

@silverinnia

@val-monny

@alexeizzo

@obervation-subject-753

@niacks

@naughtybodypillow

@baby-jeonginnie

@ask-angel0

@yourimaginaryfriiendd

@whatamidoing89

@mammonismyfirstman

@kuro-personal

@pandapantslovesyou

@mammoneythegreat

@kawaiiartsstuffowo

@novanight87

@oooowl

@pajamasatepb

@saccharineconcinnity

@techsharkie

@itzblazekun

@medicinalkiwis

@heavenly-greed

@sidgethegamer

@timetomakeanewwish

@mozzarellatelevision

@stale-cheetos-and-fragile-egos

@obeymeharemowner

@hauntedcatnerd

@darkflowerav

@mxsunnybop @betta-phish @anxiously-sidequesting

@jabesa0

@luciel-levine

@dweeb-central @noblognamepleasee @fully-automatic-ass

@sweetbrier2908 @reikabae17 @emiosb

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barbatusart · 4 months

Note

Do you have a recommendation for a specific book of your work for folks who showed up for your Bg3 stuff? (Also if you read the parts out of order would that be an issue?)

welcome aboard!!! thank you so much for checking my bg3 stuff out, it's a pleasure to have you

as i said in my other post over here, im predominantly an extreme horror artist! i 100% decline to call myself an eroguro artist because personally i dont find the kind of gore & horror i do particularly erotic, but im super fascinated with the horrors of the body & the darkness of the general human experience, so thats the kind of stuff i tend to make. it isnt the worst most heinous Ever you'll find out there, but im fully aware that it's A Lot, so everything i make with @meanbossart is thoroughly warned for so nobody goes into our body of work unaware & gets a nasty shock.

bg3 in particular goes some pretty dark routes (some bits in a dark urge run even made me kinda reel back and go "jesus"), so id say for people coming in from bg3 your mileage may heavily vary. if torture & really extreme body horror doesnt bother you, you may be OK with SAD SACK (sus.space/sadsack) and its current wip sequel SORTIE (sus.space/sortie), but i would still recommend reading each book's individual content warnings thoroughly before choosing to spend any money. (everything is paywalled to further deter minors.) if you're on the fence about how much horror content is too much for you, or if you're curious about these titles but find the content warnings to be concerning, my DMs on tumblr+twitter and my IMs are always open if you have any questions about particular CWs or even need specific page numbers so you can either skip that bit of gore or be informed enough to approach the page number(s), take a Deep breath, and proceed when youre ready! for these 2 titles in particular, unfortunately they do have a linear story, so to fully grasp what's going on requires reading the books in order. again if it's something youre curious to the point of wanting to try but on the fence about, i am always welcoming of inquiring DMs to help make the experience thrilling + chilling but Not genuinely upsetting.

if you're OK with a little violence and body horror but not as splatterfest as these titles, im currently chipping away at the preliminaries for my giant project LOVOS4017 (lovos4017.the-comic.org) which is a love letter to TNG scifi and 80s cyberpunk anime. im currently on pause with the roughs since last year due to COVID frontline burnout, but ive by no means abandoned it; this IP is my baby that ive been workshopping the show bible for for over a decade & i want to see it through to the end B)

finally if you would like to read our work but want to avoid gore and extreme violence entirely, we do have some stuff that is violence-free! [email protected] (suscomics.itch.io/pooppix) is a comic with a really bonkers premise but no violence and no visible onscreen poop i promise about finding genuine human connection over unusual shared interests on the internet. ATTACK DOG (suscomics.itch.io/attackdog) is also a short solo comic i did myself about sex, quasi-submission fetish, & the requirements of true love (theres some mild gooey body weirdness but no gore i promise)

overall i thank you for showing interest in what @meanbossart & i do! we tend towards strange & unusual premises and presentations, but i hope that you find something within our body of work that entertains you. if you every have any questions about anything, please please please feel free to DM me at any time; my goal in life is to entertain & provoke thought!

#q&a #sad sack #sortie #lovos4017 #[email protected]#attack dog

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ebiemidnightlibrarian · 8 months

Text

𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝕾𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖎𝖓 𝕸𝖞 𝕲𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖊𝖓

𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔰 𝔖𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔰

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖊 When Erin leaves Crockett to have her baby, the teaching position becomes vacant in the dominical school, so the Town Council decides to call in someone from the mainland to fill in the vacancy left behind.

Lydia Hatcher accepts the proposal without thinking twice, when she catches the Breeze she meets a mischievously handsome man to which she feels immediate attraction. The same happens to him, but what she doesn't realise is that he has way more planned for her than she might conceive.

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊𝖘 AU — Canon Divergence; Dark fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 Rape/Non-con Elements, Gaslighting, Angst, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Catholic Guilt, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, Non-canon Character Death, Use of Biblical passages as a way of gaslighting, Attempted Murder, Poisoning, Extremely Dubious Consent, Suicidal Thoughts, Stalking, Dom/sub Undertones, Smut, Distorted Ideals of Romance, Obsessive Behaviour, Horror, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Religious Fanaticism.

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 WIP

𝔈𝔵𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔲𝔪 ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔫

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖊 Nothing here yet :)

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊𝖘 AU — Canon Divergence; Dark fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Distorted Ideals of Romance, Non-Canonical Character Death, Mild Gore, Animal Death, Blood Drinking, Murder, Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Catholic Guilt, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Dubious Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Horror, Pregnancy Kink, Smut, Angst.

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 TBA

𝔑𝔬𝔩𝔦 𝔗𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔢

𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌 Dark! Father Paul x Fem! Reader (OFC)

𝖘𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖊 Nothing here yet :)

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊𝖘 AU — Canon Divergence; Dark fic; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 Rape/Non-con Elements, Past Rape/Non-con, Distorted Ideals of Justice, Non-Canonical Character Death, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking, Murder, Coercion, Stockholm Syndrome, Religious Fanaticism, Cult, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Canon-Typical Violence, Gaslighting, Dubious Consent, Dom/sub Undertones, Horror, Attempted Murder, Smut, Angst, Major Character Death.

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖘 TBA

More notices to be added if needed. Let me know when something requires to be added to the warnings/tags, I’ll probably forget something.

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊

First of all, I feel that I require to warn you that English isn’t my first language, so might happen you find some writing mistakes, I also don’t have a beta reader, again I’m sorry for any errors. If you feel comfortable, you can tell me about them, so I can fix it.

Initially, this story was planned to be a 2nd person reader fic, but I turned into a 'character x OFC'. However, don’t worry, dear grasshopper, as everything has been handled as vague as possible so that everything can be read as a reader fic.

If you desire to be tagged use this Google form to inform me, please, so I can keep it organized =)

This series has a playlist on Spotify, you can find it here, or just by searching for ‘the blood you spill in my garden’ in the search bar.

THIS IS A DARK FANFICTION! Be aware that you will find descriptions at least unpleasant for the more sensitive, if these obscure topics are not your thing man, don’t read, seriously DON’T READ!

If you, dear reader, have decided to ignore all warnings about this story, you are on your own, I am not responsible for anything you find. By the way, minors, this is obviously not for you!

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

@stardustandgunpowder, @liesandghosts, @pruitts-tight-fucking-jeans, @girlwiththenegantattoo, @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade, @sterwild, @thegardenarcher, @snapessecretdiary, @judarspeach, @hungrhay, @midnight-mess, @ledzeppelindeanmon, @novywhere @un-kiss-de-breakfast @vivi-venus

If your name is striped, it’s because Tumblr don’t let me tag you for some reason. =(

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ryleigh130 · 2 months

Note

Could you do something with Gaz being like a protective older brother? (Doesn't have to just be Gaz) Maybe after a mission 141 all go out for drinks and when at a bar someone 'hits on' the reader and is making them uncomfortable so the team step in?

Completely fine if not!!! <333

Have an amazing day/evening/night.

-🚁

Beers & Tears - - ryleigh130

Characters- ghost, cap. price, gaz, and soap

Word Count: 1.7k

Relationships- platonic!gaz & gn! reader, platonic!141 & gn! reader, implied! ghost/soap

Warnings- sexual harassment, alcohol, profanity, pet names, gore (mild), 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself]

Note- first fic in a while let's go! Sorry I’ve been absent for a while. I've been tied up with school but I’m back so let's get this started! As always thank you and I hope you enjoy it!

The evening started off great. You and the other members of the 141 just finished an extremely taxing mission that has left everyone a bit on edge and in need of a break. So, you and the boys decided to have a night out and enjoy a few drinks before the inevitable happens and you get assigned yet another case.

You now sit across from Gaz and Price watching Soap trying to entice Ghost to go and dance with him. You and Gaz share a knowing look at each other as Soap practically drags Ghost off to the dance floor, all the while Ghost looks like he’d rather be anywhere else then here right now.

“You know, if anyone else other than Soap was trying to get him to dance, he wouldn’t hesitate to put them in an early grave.” Gaz rolls his eyes and gestures to the pair. Price gives him a gentle smack on the back of his head and a stern look, although you can clearly see the affection in his eyes,

“Oh leave ‘em alone you muppet! They deserve to have a good time, especially without you instigating anything” Price scolds while giving Gaz a stern look. You let out a soft chuckle and take a sip from your drink, you’re not a huge drinker but you decided today since you all were celebrating you’d have a few drinks so as not to dampen the mood. You empty the glass and go to stand up,

“Imma grab a refill, be right back” you announce to Price and Gaz, the only indication of them hearing you is Gaz waving his hand and muttering,

“Yeah, uh huh, go ahead [y/n]” before moving back to bicker with Price. Once again you roll your eyes as a gentle smile graces your face and you feel the tension of the last couple of weeks roll off your shoulders, being surrounded by the people you consider family.

You maneuver around the semi-crowded bar, muttering “excuse me’s” and “sorry’s” to anyone who you happened to bump into until you finally arrive at the bar top. You take a seat on one of the stools as you motion to get the bartender’s attention, the bartender nods at you and makes a “one moment” motion, to which you nod and play with the rim of your empty glass whilst waiting.

Whether it be the alcohol affecting your sense of awareness or just the crowd in general, you jump in surprise when a rough, calloused hand lands on your shoulder that you haven’t seen nor heard coming. You look up and notice a tall, lanky man attached to those hands. The man was around 25-30 years in age, he was tall, thin, had black, slicked back hair, and was dressed in a tailored suit that screamed designer labels and questionable taste. He had an… odor that was hard to describe, but it made you want to puke as it hit your nostrils. Nevertheless, you give the man a polite smile and tilt your head questioningly,

“May I help you, sir?” you practically shuddered as you watched the man’s eyes darken and watch as his mouth opened in a smile that could only be described as predatory.

“Oh I should be the one asking you that” The man purrs, “Wow,” he whistles “Aren’t you a stunning little specimen” you watch out of the corner of your eye as the man shifts closer to you, like a predator trapping its prey.

Unsure on how to react, you look desperately towards Gaz and Price, but they aren’t looking and you can't catch their eyes. You quickly search the crowd to try and find Soap and Ghost but sigh as you don’t see them anywhere. You turn back towards the man awkwardly and give a shaky, unsure grin,

“Um… thank you? I- um- sorry but I’m just here to grab a drink before I go back to sit with my friends.” You state firmly. Almost like to prove your point, the bartender walks up to you with a friendly smile,

“Hello, what can I get for you!” you nod towards the bartender and push your empty cup towards him,

“Yes, can I get three fingers of rye?” you ask, watching the man next to you out of the corner of your eye. The bartender nods and heads off to grab your drink, meanwhile the man next to you butts in once again,

“I’m Vincent Rossi by the way, but you can call me Vince” The man, Vince, winks at you,

“What’s your name sweetheart?” you cringe at the name but before you can tell the guy to piss off the bartender comes back with your drink and sets it down. You nod thanks and reach into your wallet to pay the man, before you can though, Vince slaps down a few dollars and nods towards you,

“No need love, I’ve got it for you.” you quickly shake your head no,

“I’ve got it. Thanks” you give him an annoyed look but he just shakes his head again and insists. You finally just relent and thank Vince before turning around to go back to your table to meet up with the boys and get away from Vince. Before you can take a step away, Vince grabs your arm roughly and pulls you back,

“Woah there! Where do you think you’re going? I don’t even know your name, beautiful!” You yank your arm out of his grasp and snarl,

“Listen man, I’ve said thank you already but I’m not interested. Sorry dude.” You try to back up again but once again, Vince pulls you back, this time harder. He spits in your ear harshly,

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think you realize how this works. I buy you and drink and you… help me out. If you know what I’m saying.” You push away from him harshly and slap the man across his face sending him tumbling into the bar top, not expecting the hit.

“Oh you FUCKING BITCH!” the man seethes as he rights himself and wipes away the blood running down his face with the back of his hand. A crowd gathers around you two as you back away in slight fear as Vince steps towards you with dangerous intent. Suddenly Vince charges forwards in an attempt to hit you, before you can raise your hands to defend yourself, a large figure steps in front of you and blocks the man. You look up and see Gaz absolutely SEETHING with anger. He’s holding Vince’s wrists and breathing heavily as he looks at him struggling against his grip.

“Gaz!” you yell out in relief. Gaz turns his gaze to you and you watch as his eyes soften slightly,

“[y/n], are you ok?” he asks worriedly, before you can respond Vince spits in disgust,

“[y/n]. So that’s the whore’s name. Should’ve known they’ve already have a fuck toy they can play with.” That sets Gaz off. Vince can call him whatever he wants but when it comes to you, or your reputation, he doesn’t play. Gaz kicks the man in the gut and sends him sprawling across the bar’s dirty, wooden floors. When he’s down, Gaz jumps him, he kicks Vince in any spot he can hit all while cursing him out,

“If I EVER catch you talking about MY kid like that again, I’ll kill you! Is that understood!” Gaz yells while stomping Vince’s knee causing a loud POP to echo through the stunned bar. Before Vince could answer, you feel two pairs of gentle hands on your back, leading you outside of the bar. You look up at Soap and Ghost as they guide you through the crowd and outside where a large armored vehicle is waiting. Before the three of you get in, a pissed Gaz and an equally pissed Price come barreling out of the bar doors, Gaz still struggling and spitting out curses as Price shoves him through the doors.

“What the FUCK Price! I wasn’t finished with the bastard!” Gaz snarls, practically foaming out the mouth. Price snaps at Gaz angrily,

“That is ENOUGH soldier! Stand down! I said, STAND DOWN! THAT IS AN ORDER!” Finally, Gaz snaps out of it and starts to calm down slightly, he notices you, Soap, and Ghost staring and rushes forward. He stops and kneels in front of you, grabbing your hands and inspecting you for injuries. When satisfied you aren’t harmed he sighs in relief and wraps his arms around you,

“Oh thank god, are you ok kid?” he asks softly as you wrap your arms around him and drop your head on his shoulder. You nod and sigh softly,

“Thank you” You whisper as his arms tighten around you.

“Of course kiddo, I’d do anything to protect you. Anything.” You smile warmly and let out a little sniffle. Suddenly an awkward cough comes from behind you, you look to see Soap, Price, and Ghost standing near the car doors awkwardly. You roll your eyes and walk forward giving them each a tight hug,

“Yeah, yeah, thank you all too” you chuckle. Your smile widens as Ghost ruffles your hair and Price gives you an affectionate look,

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Soap suggests, you nod and file into the truck one by one. As you look out the window and watch the traffic roll by, you smile as you think about how lucky you are to have been blessed with such amazing friends. No. Family.

#cod mw2 #fanfic #john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #found family #no means no

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stellar-constellations · 2 months

Text

Bound Together: Chapter 3 (ONGOING SLOW BURN SERIES)

WARNING: This series will include; mild gore, toxic relationships that should NOT be replicated in real life, murder, yanderes, cursing, implications of misandry (male misogyny), Non-Con (perhaps Dead Dove since it could be disturbing to some), violence, bullying, sexual harassment and possibly more.

Reader has a huge fear of adult men/rape. Reader is EXTREMELY MANIPULATIVE. Reader is a foreigner (American, to be specific). Reader has their own backstory.

I've genuinely never got into BNHA, so the timeline and such is most likely inaccurate, but Hitoshi managed to steal my heart so here we are.

Yandere! Hitoshi Shinso x Yandere! Fem! Reader:

Wordcount: 14,000+ words

Series chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Current, ongoing.

Weeks passed since that day at the festival. It became more of a norm for (Y/N) and Hitoshi to sneak into each other’s apartments and sleep together. After the first night, they both realized how easy it was sleeping with one another. (Y/N) just further explained convinced how they should sleep together more by giving him a list of facts of why it’s healthy and how it improves sleep.

It was (Y/N)'s turn to sleep at Hitoshi’s place. They usually slept there more as his parents didn’t quite care what Hitoshi did with his life after finding out about his quirk. (Y/N) at first despised their negligence, knowing how bad it was for Hitoshi’s health after first-hand experience with it, but now she’s thankful for it as it not only allows her to sleep in Hitoshi’s room with little consequence, but it also made it so he sought out her comfort and affection once he realized just how nice it was to be held after having that need neglected for so long.

Hitoshi’s tried numerous times to convince himself that their relationship was normal. He’s seen girls with their best friends hold hands together down the street, even kiss! (Y/N) and Hitoshi hold hands often now, and they’ve only accidentally kissed once, so their relationship is pretty normal, right? Sure, they sleep together every night in the same bed, cuddling each other and refusing to let go of one another, but he bets other friends do that same thing too! Even if they don’t, this must just mean that their relationship is extremely special and beats all other relationships, right?

He’s really really tried to convince himself on that, but he doubts best friends usually have your heart pounding while doing those things. He doubts that your best friend’s smile knocks the air out of your lungs and makes you want to crack a stupid joke to keep said smile on their face. He doubts holding your best friend’s hand makes you want to cherish the warmth and hold on tighter. He doubts wiping your best friend’s hair out of their eyes is supposed to create an electric shock in your heart or fingers when they make eye contact with you. He doubts that looking at your best friend unconsciously lick their lips when they’re concentrating on something makes you want to kiss their lips instead.

Yeah, all just friendly things in a friendship between two really good friends.

Hitoshi was coughing in his sleep and his body felt hotter than usual. His body temperature was too hot that (Y/N) woke up early, hating how hot it was. She placed her palm on his forehead and woke him up.

“How is your throat?” (Y/N) questioned.

“My throat?” he questioned right back, before realizing what she meant with how croaky it sounded.

“You’re sick, Toshi. You need to stay home and rest.” (Y/N) spoke, getting up from his bed.

She grabbed her school uniform and walked out of his room, getting dressed in his bathroom and fixing herself up for school. She grabbed a bowl of warm water and wetted a towel, along with grabbing some morning medicine from his medicine cabinet. She walked back into his room, setting towel on his forehead and giving him a cup of medicine so he could drink it.

“I’ll be back after school to check up on you. You go back to sleep now, okay?” she spoke.

Hitoshi nodded, not having much fight in him as he closed his eyes. (Y/N) grabbed her backpack and walked out of the front door, heading to school alone.

He has a weak immune system. Karma spoke.

You can’t talk, you don’t have an immune system. (Y/N) retorted.

Exactly. Mine isn’t weak because it doesn’t exist. Karma explained.

(Y/N) walked to school and changed her shoes at her locker. She walked to class, finding there was still free time before class started. She opted to putting her head down and resting, passing the time for until class starts.

She woke up when the bell rang, keeping her head down to listen to the teacher’s lecture. The beginning of class was just a study period, she’ll go back to sleep until their science lesson begins. She laid back down until the next bell rang for science.

School is boring without Hitoshi. (Y/N) thought to herself.

Let’s skip. Karma spoke.

(Y/N) thought about the idea, not seeing too much trouble in it. The least the school will do is lecture her, the only reason she really got into the school was so the school could be credited a “we accept all diversities."

Sure. (Y/N) spoke. How are we getting out? She questioned, looking around, then to the agenda board.

Science has a lab today, she’d be placed in group work. She waited for the teacher to place her in her group, a group of all girls (usually, if Hitoshi was here, the teacher would place the two together in a group since they worked well together). She pretended to check her phone for a minute, then frowned.

“I’m really sorry, but I have to leave class right now. My friend is going through a really tough time at the moment and right now she’s sobbing her eyes out. I hope you understand.” She spoke to her lab partners, grabbing her backpack and running out of the room when the teacher turned her back.

If the teacher noticed she was gone, her table mates would at least have that excuse to give the teacher. If she wasn’t noticed missing, that would also work in her favor.

Where are we skipping? Karma questioned.

We have to wait out until lunch, that’s when students can leave campus. (Y/N) explained.

For student council only. They’ll check our ID’s. Karma explained.

You can help with that, can’t you? (Y/N) smirked. Just find a third-year that looks similar to me, look for the gold sticker, then steal their ID.

Karma didn’t have any objection to that, she can skip boring studies and get to run around. She considers that a major win. (Y/N) took off her backpack and let Karma crawl out.

Third story have all the upperclassmen classes, be careful of the hall monitors though. They’re strict with making sure the seniors don’t try to skip their classes. (Y/N) explained. I’ll be in the library “studying”. Find me when you’re done.

Karma ran off to the stairwell, a skip in her step to show her enjoyment of skipping school.

I should go to Hitoshi after getting out of here. (Y/N) thought, walking down the hallway.

The school was big so she had to navigate her way through security and student council’s jobs. It took a lot of work and patience having to wait out the stationed security—she even had to hide in an open locker. Thank God she didn’t close it all the way, she didn’t want to ask Karma for help opening the locker since Karma would never let her live it down.

She almost made it out of the hallway until she had to make a quick duck in a classroom because of a quick turn a security officer made down the stairwell.

(Y/N) whipped into the nearest classroom, almost slamming the door (she made sure she shut it gently, she didn’t want all her hard-work wasted).

“What are you do—“

(Y/N) turned around quickly, placing a finger to her lip.

Great, just my luck. She thought, seeing Hiro and his gang.

She ducked down, signaling all of them to get down too. They looked at her funny before hearing footsteps in the hallway, then they decided to listen. The group of boys and her glared at each other in silence until they no longer heard footsteps, waiting a minute just to be sure they were gone. Gen stood up first, being the first one out of all of them to break the silence.

“What are you doing out of class?” he questioned.

“Going to the library.” (Y/N) spoke.

“And you’re ditching the security?” Kishō questioned as all the boys stood up from their spots.

“I forgot to bring a pass.” (Y/N) lied, getting up off the ground.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be skipping.” Hiro smiled, walking towards her. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. First you get into fights, then you sleep in class, now you’re skipping class?” Hiro clicked his tongue. “I thought you were better than this.”

“Uh, yeah.” (Y/N) brushed him off carelessly, turning around and grabbing the door to slide it open.

Someone grabbed her shoulders and pulled her away from the door. They turned her around, meeting face to face with Hiro as he dragged her to a counter. Yamada grabbed her backpack off her shoulders and threw it to the ground while Hiro pushed her back against the counter as all the guys circled her.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Jāo smirked.

Karma, I need your help with Hiro and his gang. I’m near the third-year classrooms by the last stairway to the commons. (Y/N) informed.

“You’re certainly forgetting personal space.” (Y/N) huffed, pushing Hiro away and elbowing Kishō as she moved away.

Gen grabbed her hand and pulled her over, pushing her into the nearby counter, caging her against the counter with his arms.

“We need a little something to keep quiet about this.” Gen nudged.

“I don’t follow.” (Y/N) hissed, using her arms to push against his shoulders and create space.

“Just put on a show for us. Just for a few minutes, yeah?” Gen spoke, his hand gliding up her skirt.

(Y/N) quickly kneed his crotch, causing him to hunch over and give her the perfect opportunity to punch him, knocking Gen out. He fell on the ground just as Jāo grabbed her arms to hold her still. (Y/N) leaned her arm back to the counter and grabbed the first thing she felt in her hands, grabbing a pencil and stabbing Jāo’s shoulder. Jāo backed out of the fight to tend to that, unsure of whether to rip the pencil out or keep it in as his hands shook indecisively.

Hiro and Yamada stepped in quickly. Hiro dodged one of (Y/N)'s fists and got behind her, grabbing her arms since she seemed to enjoy fighting with those the most. Hiro forced his legs in between hers, locking them in his so she didn't try and kick any of them like she had to Gen. Yamada grabbed a pocket knife out of his pockets and held it up to her throat, forcing her to quit squirming so she didn't get hurt.

Wow, okay. Didn't know Yamada would have the biggest balls of the group. (Y/N) thought to herself, taking a deep breath in to calm her nerves and think of her next move.

It's hard to think when you're sandwiched between two guys, both your arms and legs being restrained while someone else had a pocket knife to your throat. Yamada's knife trailed down to her unbuttoned uniform, slashing a rip from the top of her collar to the end of her shirt. Alarms went off in her head as she dealt with the attack, before noticing the shadow figure coming up behind Yamada. Karma had quickly knocked Kishō out with a swift karate chop to the neck, but she wanted to be quick so she could get to Yamada.

(Y/N) planted her feet down firmly, using force to push her weight into Hiro, knocking them both back a bit to where Yamada's knife was no longer near her. Karma grabbed Yamada's knife out of his hands, using her other arm to grab his head and slam it down into the nearest desk, not stopping until his body fell limp. (Y/N) turned around and fought Hiro's hands at they both tried to gain control of each other. (Y/N) knew she'd be overpowered almost easily, she planted her legs down and squatted, grabbing his arm and using her legs as leverage to throw him over her shoulder. Hiro fell onto a desk, momentarily stunned as the air from his lungs was stolen. Karma decided to take over, grabbing Hiro's head and hitting it against the desk until he went limp too.

They both turned their heads to Jāo, the only conscious one out of the bullies. He put his hands up real quick to surrender, flinching at the movement due to the pencil stuck in his shoulder. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, walking up to Jāo.

Get Yamada's pocket knife and put it in my backpack. (Y/N) ordered to Karma.

"Do you have hand sanitizer?" (Y/N) questioned to Jāo.

He nodded hesitantly, "In my pocket."

(Y/N) felt his front pockets before finding it, taking it out of his pockets. Luckily, it was pure alcohol sanitizer, no added aromas or troublesome chemicals.

Grab paper towels from the wall. (Y/N) told Karma.

"This is gonna hurt." (Y/N) spoke.

(Y/N) grabbed the pencil from Jāo's shoulder and ripped it out quickly as he let out a yelp. (Y/N) grabbed the paper towels Karma handed her and padded the pouring blood away, then lathered the wound with hand sanitizer (getting another yelp out of Jāo). She wiped away the excess blood and told him to hold the paper towel there, fishing around in her skirt pocket before finding a little container with bandages.

"You just carry those around? That's dumb." Jāo spoke, stifling a soft laugh.

Kinda cute too... Jāo thought.

"It's coming in handy, is it not?" (Y/N) spoke, allowing a small smile to appear on her lips.

She opened the container and grabbed a bandage, peeling off the wrapping. She moved Jāo's hand (ignoring the way his face heated up slightly) and applied the band-aid on his wound.

She could care less how deep the hole was or anything, it was his fault to begin with. If he wanted to go to the ER and get it checked out, he can do it without her.

"There. All better. And don't worry, you won't get lead poisoning." (Y/N) explained. "Your friends are gonna wake up in at least ten or thirty minutes." (Y/N) spoke as Karma touched her back, returning inside of her.

(Y/N) picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. She pushed her hand against the classroom door but stopped when she heard Jāo speak up.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled, gaining her attention as she turned around to look at him. "It wasn't cool for us to corner you and threaten you... like that." He huffed. "Wasn't cool all the other times we hurt or picked on you either."

He says this, but he won't make it an effort to change. Karma huffed. Tomorrow he'll go back to being a pain in our ass!

"You say this, but I don't believe you're actually sorry." (Y/N) admitted, speaking out both her and Karma's thoughts.

"That's understandable." Jāo nodded. "I can prove it."

(Y/N) hummed, thinking about it. Well, it'd certainly be nice to get some blackmail on them.

"Jāo." (Y/N) spoke, gaining his attention.

She paid attention to the blush on his face and mentally smirked.

He likes the caring type? Huh? I can play that. (Y/N) thought, nearing him.

"What information can you give me on all the boys here, huh?" she questioned, getting up close to his face.

"I-I can't really—" (Y/N) placed her hands on Jāo's cheeks, leaning her face closer to his.

"C'mon, Jāo. If you tell me, I might give you a little reward." (Y/N) pushed, licking her lips to make him pay attention to how close they were to his.

"Um... Kishō has daddy issues." Jāo spoke, immediately throwing his bud under the bus. "Yamada stole that pocket knife from his older brother, who would genuinely kill him if he found out..."

"Any more, hon?" (Y/N) questioned, wiping her thumb gently on his face to lead him further into her trap. "Just some more details. I'll make it your worthwhile."

"S-sheesh. Um... Gen has a crush on his cousin from his mother's side, Aunt Debra, her eldest daughter Josie." Jāo explained. "Hiro... has a crush on you and likes picking on you because you'd notice him that way."

Woah, wasn't expecting that. Karma admitted, as (Y/N) blinked, almost slipping up her act.

"What about you, cutie? Surely there's a little something you might tell me about yourself?" (Y/N) smiled.

"I-I might have a crush on you too now!" he blurted out, his face beet red as he got embarrassed.

(Y/N) giggled, letting go of his face and backing up as he covered his face with his arms, ashamed of easily being swayed with just a few words.

"Are you ready for your reward?" (Y/N) questioned. "Close your eyes."

Jāo removed his hands from his face rather quickly, his face still red but a determined smirk on his face, closing his eyes real tightly. (Y/N) wound up her fist and punched him in the face, a crack being heard as his nose gushed blood.

"W-what the hell?" Jāo spoke, holding his nose with his hands.

(Y/N) took a step closer, bending down so Jāo could get an eyeful of her chest through her destroyed shirt as an apology. She removed his hands and swiped under his nose with her thumb, applying the crimson shade on her bottom lip, closing her mouth and smearing the blood on her upper lip. She placed her hands on Jāo's jaw and kissed his cheek just under his right eye.

"Mwah!" she kissed audibly so he could hear, moving away to admire the kiss she left on his cheek. "Do me a favor and keep this whole incident and all between us. You can do that, right?"

Jāo nodded as (Y/N) took a few steps backwards, then pulled out her phone from her backpack. She pulled the camera out and took a picture of Jāo's vulnerable, pathetic, bloodied (and slightly aroused) state. She shoved the phone back in her backpack and walked out of the class, licking her lips to rid herself of all the blood as she made her way out to the gardens.

What are you doing? I thought we're going to the library? Karma questioned.

We can't wait until lunch, Hiro and the others will be conscious then. They'll be furious at us, and I already told them we'd be there. Going to the library is a death wish, we're going past through the back gates. (Y/N) explained.

She ran to the back where the security was, having Karma get out of her back and take shape of a random student. Karma ran past the security quickly, causing the security to chase after her. (Y/N) ran to the gate and climbed it, jumping over and landing on her feet.

I got out. Let's go. (Y/N) spoke, running away from the school and to Hitoshi's apartment.

(Y/N) waited at a stop sign for Karma, catching her breath. Karma caught up and touched (Y/N), going back into her body. (Y/N) made it to Hitoshi's apartment and climbed through his bedroom window. Hitoshi jolted awake at the noise, seeing (Y/N) on the ground with a torn-up uniform and messy hair.

"Hi, Toshi." She smiled, standing up from the ground and throwing her backpack on the ground.

"What happened to you?" Hitoshi questioned, alarmed as he sat up from his bed.

"The usual. Hiro and his gang." (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders.

A scowl formed on Hitoshi's face as he was about to stand up, only for (Y/N) to push him down on his bed.

“What do you think you’re doing, mister?” (Y/N) lectured, placing her hands on her hips. “You gotta be in bed sleeping off this sickness!”

“How can I sleep when your whole shirt is basically ripped and your chest is hanging out?” Hitoshi grumbled. “What all did they do to you?”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but stopped.

Does he not like my chest? She thought, a tinge of insecurity crawling into her mind.

Would another girl with a bigger bust satisfy him?

Focus. Karma huffed.

(Y/N) adverted her eyes for a second, her silence only concerning Hitoshi more, before looking back at him.

“Just some light touching, but I’m fine now. I had Karma help me escape.” (Y/N) spoke, crossing her arms to make herself seem a little tougher, but in actuality it just gave away that she was feeling small and weak at the moment.

“Come here.” Hitoshi sighed, the scowl still present on his face but he at least tried to make it look softer so that he wouldn't accidental scare her.

She had no objections coming near him (Hitoshi was thankful she still trusted him and his touch). She climbed into his lap without needing to be told, wrapping her arms around him and placing her head on her shoulder.

Hitoshi used one of his hands to rub circles on the exposed skin of her back where her uniform’s hole was, petting her messy hair with his other hand.

“Are you okay?” Hitoshi questioned, his voice soft.

(Y/N) took a moment, deciding whether or not she really wanted to answer that.

“No…” she mumbled. “I-I was really scared that-that they’d do more than just touching.” She admitted, tears forming in her eyes. “If Karma didn’t come save me, or if she wasn’t out which would’ve made Hiro’s quirk take effect, they could’ve really done more. They had a knife and threatened me, ripped off my shirt and tried going up my skirt.” She cried, shoving her face in his neck.

Hitoshi listened to her, using all of his will power to not stand up and find the group.

“I didn’t like their touches. I hated it. I like your touch better. Your touch makes me feel safe, it makes me feel happy. I like being able to touch you like this, not with anyone else but us.” She confessed, sniffling. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on a rant.” She muttered.

“No, no. It’s fine. I’m glad you can talk to me about this. It won’t ever happen again. They’ll leave you alone, I promise.” Hitoshi spoke, the promise coming out of his tongue without even processing the words himself. “You should be allowed to talk about your feelings with me.”

“I’m sorry for bothering you. You’re sick and tired and you need rest.” (Y/N) spoke.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I want to you go to me when you’re upset or in trouble. You’re not a bother.” He admitted.

She nodded, more tears escaping her eyes as she sobbed more at his words. She hid her face in his neck, not caring how sweaty he was from his fever or how hot he felt to the touch.

“Thank you.” She cried. “Thank you so much, Hitoshi.”

“Here, you go shower and you can spend the night. Okay?” Hitoshi spoke.

(Y/N) nodded, hesitating to stand up from his lap and escape his arms. She ended up getting up reluctantly, unwrapping her arms from his head. She rummaged through his closet for a big long-sleeved shirt before finding a black one she liked. She walked out of his room and to the shower, undressing.

Hitoshi bought bath products for (Y/N) when she started to stay the nights more often ([Y/N] bought some for him too at her house, though it’s hidden in her room to hide from her family). It brought her joy to know he bought products for her and just her. It made her happy knowing she was the only girl staying at his house, sleeping in his bed cuddling him at night.

Karma suddenly forced her way out of (Y/N)'s body, shocking her as she jumped.

“Karma, what the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) questioned, instinctively covering herself up with a towel.

“I need to run. I have too much adrenaline still. I’m going to go crazy cooped up in your body.” Karma groaned.

(Y/N) huffed, rolling her eyes, “Fine, fine. Go. Just be quick.”

Karma walked through the door and to Hitoshi’s room. Karma walked through Hitoshi’s door, alerting him.

“Hey, lover boy.” She spoke. “I have a little proposition for you.”

Hitoshi looked at her suspiciously. He knew that if she was out, there usually was trouble to follow with her.

“What is it?” Hitoshi questioned.

“Me and you both know those bullies aren’t going to stop leaving her alone. We have to do something about it.” Karma spoke.

“… Like what?” he asked.

Good, he’s actually entertaining the idea. Karma thought.

“We could kill them, make them transfer schools, something like that.” She suggested. “I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“What? We can’t do that. I want to become a hero and so don’t you?” Hitoshi questioned.

“Sometimes… heroes have to make sacrifices. Your good deeds will outweigh your bad ones. Besides, no one is going to find out. I won’t even tell (Y/N).” Karma egged on. “Cross my heart.”

Hitoshi paused, thinking.

“You… wouldn’t happen to know where they all live… would you?” Hitoshi questioned.

“I’ve done my own spying while she’s been asleep. I can write down the addresses.” Karma spoke, an invisible smile on her face.

Hitoshi ignore the slight fear that bubbled in his chest at Karma’s words. He gave her a paper and pen as she started writing the names and addresses.

“You’re going to make sure she stays asleep tonight while I take care of them. Okay?” Hitoshi ordered.

“I can do that.” Karma agreed. “I’ll even do you a favor and unlock all their windows so you can go in.”

Karma walked outside of the house, going to fulfill the promise she gave Hitoshi. Hitoshi looked at the list Karma gave him, going on his phone and opening tabs for all of the locations as he sat down on his bed. He decided on the shortest route to get all of them in one night, putting his phone in his pocket just as (Y/N) knocked on the door, entering his room.

Hitoshi opened the covers for (Y/N) to climb into, noticing how she had no problem getting in the bed. He noticed her dull eyes glance at the paper on his desk. (Y/N) swore she recognized that handwriting.

He ignored the paper and hoped she would too. She didn’t mention anything as she hooked her legs around him and rested her head on his chest.

“Are… you okay now? Do you want me to sleep on the couch tonight?” he questioned, not wanting her to be uncomfortable or scared.

“No!” (Y/N) exclaimed, sitting up rather quickly. “Don’t leave me, anything but that.” She spoke, her eyes starting to form tears in them.

Right, Karma’s gone so (Y/N)'s emotions are unstable at the moment. Hitoshi thought.

Karma is apart of (Y/N)'s body and mind in a sense, so she shares half of (Y/N)'s limbic system (the emotional part of the human brain), so when the two of them separate from each other, their emotions are unstable and their logic can be scattered. It's one of the annoying parts of their quirk, which can be troublesome quite troublesome to making the right calls in battle.

“No, no. I won’t. I just wanted to make sure you feel safe.” Hitoshi mumbled, his voice quiet to soothe her.

“I feel safe with you.” (Y/N) spoke, not even taking a second to think about her answer as she stared at him with an unusual seriousness in her eyes.

Hitoshi smiled softly, gently guiding her head back down onto his chest. She didn’t hesitate laying back down, allowing Hitoshi to pet her wet hair with one of his hands, the other wrapped around her to keep her close.

“You tired?” he questioned, keeping up with petting her head so she’d fall asleep quicker.

“Yeah.” She admitted, her hands clutching onto his shirt to keep him close to her and to anchor herself.

Hitoshi took off her glasses and placed them on his nightstand, continuing to soothe her until he was certain she was fast asleep.

Karma phased through the window, being careful not to knock anything down. She walked up to Hitoshi and (Y/N), standing over them. She opened the window gently, pulling through a long rope and black gloves.

“They’re not home.” Karma spoke, leaning down and rummaging through (Y/N)'s backpack.

“Where are they?” Hitoshi questioned.

“The abandoned cabin near Lake Samui.” Karma informed, pulling out Yamada’s brother’s pocket knife and handing it to Hitoshi.

“All together?” Hitoshi asked, receiving a silent nod from Karma. “What’s with all this?” he questioned, talking about the rope and gloves as Karma handed him the knife.

“Just in case you gotta round them up like cattle. Keep your fingerprints off the knife and bodies too. You never know when you need a knife.” Karma smiled, indirectly screaming at Hitoshi to murder them.

Hitoshi sighed, “Okay, you make sure she stays asleep.”

Karma nodded, helping Hitoshi untangle himself from (Y/N)'s grip. Hitoshi managed to break free, taking a second to look back at the two.

Should he really be trusting (Y/N) in her care? Sure, they’ve lived together for basically their entire lives, but still, Karma has a knack for creating chaos. And can he really ensure such an important secret to Karma?

Karma waved her fingers teasingly, as if knowing his thoughts.

“Don’t worry. Have fun~” Karma whispered, a childish glee in her voice.

No. No, he won’t. But as long as he just gets the boys expelled or convince them to moving schools, then she wouldn’t have to endure such abuse when he’s not looking. He gathered the rope, gloves, and pocket knife Karma gifted him and climbed out of his window, landing on the ground. He pulled his phone out of his pockets, discarding the route originally made. He knew how to get to the lake, it’s best not to use a GPS, especially at this time to look up where the lake is. That’s be suspicious and a possible connection to him.

How convenient of them all to be at the lake, did Karma do something? he thought, walking towards the lake.

It was an hour walk on foot, giving Hitoshi all the time in the world to reconsider and turn back. He’d force them to switch schools, get a good few punches in to give them a taste of what will happen if they don’t comply. Hell, he can send Karma to go after them and she’ll do it just because she can get away with it.

The laugh of the group echoed throughout the lake’s thin woods, giving away their location as Hitoshi walked near. He needs to get rid of Hiro and his quirk; Hiro can disengage someone else’s quirk within ten feet of him, so if Hiro activities his quirk before Hitoshi can get him under his brainwash, it’d be a fight of 5 against 1 while he'd be temporarily quirkless—he doesn’t exactly like those odds.

Hitoshi got close enough to see their silhouettes by a fire they made. He could make out their voices, their laughs and taunts, their grumbles and grips, talking about what they did to the junior high senior.

“Did you how her bottom lip trembled?” Yamada giggled.

“I was kinda knocked out.” Gen huffed, annoyed.

“Two kicks was all it took for you to get knocked out? Let alone two kicks from a girl half the size as you.” Kishō giggled, messing with Gen.

“Wish I would’ve saw. You should’ve took a picture, good material for later.” Hiro sighed.

“Gross, man.” Kishō gagged. “I don’t need to know how often you wank it.”

“Shut up.” Hiro hissed, punching Kishō’s shoulder. “Can't blame me. She’s American. Exotic, they say. It’s not everyday you see what a naked American looks like face to face—they’re naturally more curvier than Japanese women, you know.”

“Hiro’s got a thing for foreign women.” Gen teased. “Besides, you can’t talk, Kishō. Your dumbass got knocked out by the shadow. How the hell did you manage to not see that?”

“Dumb luck! I had my guard because you and Yamada were taking care of things. I didn’t think she’d try anything with a knife against her throat.” Kishō sassed back.

“Oh! That reminds me! She took my brother’s knife! He’s gonna kill me when he founds out it’s stolen, and he’ll probably drown me in my own blood once he figures I took it.” Yamada groaned.

“We can just get it Monday. Shinso wasn’t there today, probably won’t be Monday. Even if he was, she won't be with him all the time.” Hiro shrugged his shoulders, before a smirk spread across his face. “Hey, maybe we can get her tomorrow. See the birthday suit?”

“She was a piece of art at that festival. That image is still stuck on my mind man. Japanese kimonos look hot on foreigners.” Gen admitted, giving his own devilish grin.

“Hey, guys. I really don’t think that’s a good idea.” Jāo spoke up.

“Finally fucking speaks.” Gen spoke, before realizing what Jāo said. “What do you mean? You didn’t have a problem with messing with her today.”

“I didn’t know we were going to go that far.” Jāo admitted. “Don’t you think that’s kind of messed up? Trying to assault her like that?”

“What? You want her to yourself or something?” Hiro snarled. “You’re even lucky I’m willing to share.”

“Bros before hoes.” Yamada hummed.

“For God’s sake, you tried raping her! Don’t you see what the problem is? That’s way too far!” Jāo exclaimed.

“What? You gonna tell or something? You realize you were there, you could’ve stopped that. You’re just as guilty as us. If we go down, you’re going with.” Hiro explained. “You won’t be a damn hero if you’re in prison.”

“I don’t want to be a hero. I don’t want any of us to be heroes if we’re going to be crooked like that.” Jāo huffed.

Kishō looked at the two friends argue before he whistled, a smile on his face as he hit his palm with his fist.

“I get it, man! You like her!” Kishō laughed. “She stabbed you with a pencil, then bandaged ya up, then fucking punched ya and kissed your cheek! You like the crazies!”

Jāo opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He couldn’t defend himself, not with how red his face was. He could still feel the sting of her punch, but also the warmth of her kiss.

A bubbling feeling started to form in Hitoshi’s stomach and chest. It was like anger, but different. He’s not sure what it is or how he’s describe it, but he knows he hates the feeling.

“Sorry, Hiro called dibs.” Yamada spoke.

“Bummer.” Gen spoke sarcastically, clicking his tongue.

“Yeah. You can’t just steal her like that, I called dibs years ago, before you joined our group.” Hiro growled, standing up from his spot on the dirt.

“She’d like me better than you anyways. At least I still have some morals, not to mention the kiss she gave me.” Jāo spoke seriously, standing up from the ground too so he could challenge Hiro.

The bubbling feeling in his chest and stomach exploded. His hands shook and his body felt awfully hot for a winter night. He walked up to the group and looked at Hiro.

“Hiro.” Hitoshi spoke.

“How the hell did you find—“ Hiro’s eyes went blank, the string of words he was going to say now nonexistent on his tongue.

“Gen.” Hitoshi called out as Gen neared him, a pissed off expression on his face.

“I’m still mad abo—“ his eyes went white too, no longer vocal.

“Kishō.” Hitoshi acknowledged.

Kishō charged at him without a word, swinging his fist at him. Hitoshi dodged and grabbed his arm, slamming him down onto the ground.

“You son of a—“ his fell under Hitoshi’s quirk.

“Yamada.” Hitoshi spoke.

Yamada stayed where he was, unsure whether to run like a coward or fight and most likely lose.

“Speak. Or are you too scared of me?” Hitoshi questioned, hitting a nerve in Yamada.

“I’m not sc—“ he fell too.

A headache was forming for Hitoshi, his concentration close to breaking, but he had just one more person. Jāo stood there, not in fear, but in understanding. Like he knew this was their punishment.

Hitoshi deemed he wasn’t a threat and quickly grabbed the pocket knife from his pocket, cutting the long rope into four sections. He tied nooses with the rope and he walked to the motionless men standing in front of him, placing the nooses on their necks before tightening them tightly.

Jāo now understood what Hitoshi was doing, but he was too afraid to try and stop him with force, so he used his words.

“Wait, aren't you supposed to be a hero? You can’t do this.” Jāo spoke.

His words almost snapped Hitoshi of his concentration, almost snapped the strings connected to the brains of the gang.

“Justice is blind in the eyes of the law.” Hitoshi spoke. “Heroes have to make sacrifices.” He spoke, relaying the words Karma told him.

Hitoshi found a big rock to stand on as he lifted one of the bodies—Gen—by their rope, tying the ropes end on the tree. He broke Gen out of his concentration, moving the rock away so Gen couldn’t use it to stand on. Gen immediately snapped his hands to his neck, trying to undo the noose but it only made the rope worsen, tightening itself around his neck more.

Hitoshi heard the footsteps behind him, Jāo’s scared but pissed off expression reaching his eyes as he turned around.

“You can’t kill them. You can’t have all of them suffocate and die slowly like that.” Jāo explained, walking closer to him.

“Did you guys stop when she said to?” Hitoshi questioned.

She said it herself. If Karma wasn't there to save her, they wouldn't have stopped. Hitoshi thought. So why should I stop?

Jāo’s eyes held uncertainty, and his mouth wasn’t quick enough to try and defend him.

“W-well, no… but—“ and the last domino falls, completing the game as he too fell under Hitoshi's quirk.

Hiro, Jāo, Gen, Kishō, and Yamada are the losers of tonight’s game.

Hitoshi handed the pocket knife into Jāo’s hands.

“Jāo, cut your wrists.” He ordered.

Jāo brought the blade to his wrists, and cut, over and over again, then moved on to the next one.

“Sit down on the ground, lay on your back.” Hitoshi spoke, prepping him for his framed suicide.

He left the knife in Jāo’s hands, turning around to see Gen take his last breath. He grabbed the rock and found another sturdy tree branch, repeating the process of hanging Kishō up, then breaking out of his concentration for him so Kishō could feel the air be taken from his lungs, before meeting with Death. He repeated the steps with the others bullies until there were no more.

He grabbed all their phones from their pockets, using their thumbs from their dead bodies to unlock them, and texted to all of their parents a message.

“I love you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t forget about me.”

“Stay strong.”

“I hope you understand.”

He sent the texts at the same time, changing up each message so it didn’t sound exactly like one person typed it. He quickly left the crime scene, knowing it’d only be a matter of time before one of the parents read the text and call the police. Their phones would be tracked and authorities would get here in ten minutes or less. Hitoshi ran like hell, his thoughts foggy as he guided himself out of the woods.

I’ve should’ve let them suffer longer, but that was the only way to make their deaths look at least semi-normal. He thought.

He could be in bed right now, cuddling (Y/N) and getting an amazing night's sleep, but he’s here, running away after committing first-degree murder for her.

The realization set in on what he’d done. There’s absolutely no way he can even try justifying the murders, not to the law at least. In his brain, he knows what he did is wrong, but his heart is saying that it wasn’t enough. He’s a convicted felon now, a runaway. He hopes that the police have no traces of him, hd hopes he didn't overlook something and accidentally leave a trace of him there. He doesn’t feel sorry for what he did to them, only angry at the crime itself. How wrong can it be for him to kill bad guys? Sometimes prison cannot redeem a man of his wrongdoings, it just worsens the man. They seemed too far gone for help.

Seriously, talking about being a hero when hours ago you tried to assault a vulnerable woman? Not to mention all the times they’ve hurt her before that. Justice was served on a bronze platter, they should’ve have worse done to them.

Hitoshi wasn’t sure who he was more mad at, Jāo or Hiro. Hiro’s claim about owning her, calling dibs on her before all of them. Jāo’s right, like she’d pick him over Hitoshi. Hitoshi’s her friend, Hitoshi never treated her like how he treated her. Hitoshi gave her space and an ear, all Hiro’s given her is bruises and trauma.

And Jāo, the damn lucky bastard. How’d he get a kiss from her, willingly? Hitoshi doesn’t care that it was on the cheek or that she messed him up the most beforehand. He only cares that she gave him a kiss.

At least I was her first. Hitoshi thought.

Those two boys combined could never be good enough for her. They didn’t understand her like he did. He knew her moods, her favorite foods, what to do when she cries, her past. He would be a much better fit for her, if she’d allow it. They’re such good friends that they’ve stayed up together, spent days playing video games together, slept together in the same bed, wore each other’s clothes, even kissed (though accidentally). Hitoshi’s the best person that could ever be a part of her life. She doesn’t hug them, she doesn’t whisper secrets to them, or make funny jokes or wear their clothes or sleep with them—if she did, he probably would’ve killed them sooner.

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of police sirens wailing down the road. He was at least five minutes away from the lake’s woods, so it’s be suspicious to see him nearby after they discover the dead bodies. He ducked to the playground nearby, hiding in the bathroom stalls there, waiting until there were no more sirens.

He walked out of the bathroom and continued his way down the road, sticking closer to the shadows.

He shouldn’t have been thinking like that. That’s wrong. He killed five people. He didn’t really mean to go that far, only wanted to teach them a lesson. But they didn’t learn the first time he taught them, so he had to go to more drastic measures, right?

These thoughts aren’t normal. They aren’t healthy. What would (Y/N) think?

(Y/N) this, (Y/N) that. He might be going insane. He blames it on his sickness, his fever. Maybe that’s why he’s so disillusioned at the moment! Maybe he’s just sleeping right now! This is all a dream and he didn’t commit the murders!

He finally made it to his house, crawling into the window quietly as Karma waited patiently.

“What happened?” she questioned, her curiosity comparable to a morbid child’s.

“They’re all dead. I killed them.” He spoke blandly, grabbing a pair of clothes from his closet. “I’m going to shower.”

Karma nodded, resisting the urge to giggle.

Now that they’re out of the picture, Karma won't have to worry about their annoying asses. Now (Y/N) can calm her brain down and shut up about those stupid bullies. (Y/N) will be so happy once she hears they’re gone! She’ll be even happier when Karma explains why.

Hitoshi needed to rid himself of all the dirt on him. He needs to scrub his skin raw, confirm he still did have feelings and didn’t commit that act out of insensitivity or something like that.

When he finished showering, he put on the new change of clothes and made sure to throw out the gloves in the bathroom trash to dispose of later. He walked out of the bathroom and back to (Y/N), seeing Karma had disappeared. He opened the covers and crawled back inside, awaking (Y/N). She jumped, startled.

“Sorry, it’s me.” Hitoshi whispered.

“Why did you leave bed? Where did you go?” she muttered, climbing in between his legs and resting her body on his, placing her head down on his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Bathroom. I went to shower.” Hitoshi lied.

(Y/N) subtly rested her cheek on her right, facing Hitoshi’s bedroom. She peeked at the clock on Hitoshi’s nightstand with blurred vision, making out that it was 10 P.M.

She came here around 1 P.M. when she ditched class, then fell asleep around 2 P.M. She felt Hitoshi leave her arms at 4 P.M. but Karma told her to act like she was sleeping, so she did. When she heard Hitoshi leave the room, Karma simply said Hitoshi had a surprise for later and forced (Y/N) to go back to sleep after an hour of worrying about where he’s going, who he’d be with, if there would be any girls. Karma didn’t answer her and didn’t allow her to leave the room, resulting in (Y/N) using the scent of Hitoshi’s pillowcase to fall back asleep. Then he wakes her up around 10 P.M. fully showered in a new pair of clothes.

Suspicious. She thought.

“Go back to sleep. I’m here.” Hitoshi muttered, resting his hand on her head and the other on her back.

He combed through her messy hair to lure her back to sleep. It worked as she closed her eyes, figuring tomorrow Karma would tell her all about what he’s been up to.

The shame from earlier diminished from his chest and mind as he looked at the girl comfortable in his arms. The warmth in his chest made what he did so worth it. At the end of the night, he was the one she laid with, not any of them. She’s safe now, exactly what he wanted for his friend. . . (Y/N) woke up first before Hitoshi. That was a rare thing, it only proved how exhausting his night was yesterday.

The gnawing feeling of curiosity appeared in her stomach, wondering where he was. It shifted to jealousy, a rabie-like bite as she needed to know who he was with doing what.

She admired his sleeping face, rested her thumb under his eyes

Karma. (Y/N) called out, seeing if Karma would answer or make her suffer more.

Yes? Karma questioned, a giggle in her voice.

It appears she’ll spare (Y/N) the trouble.

You know where he went, don’t you? (Y/N) questioned.

Lake Samui. Karma answered.

A lake? Did he go skinny-dipping with some broad she doesn’t know of? It seems unlucky, but maybe he’s in a rebellious phase of his life? She knew her chest wasn’t big enough to satisfy him!

I can tell you’re overreacting and I’m not even in that section of your mind. Karma sighed.

There were three thought sections in her mind. One designated to just (Y/N), one designed to just Karma, and one where they shared their thoughts and talked telepathically.

Who was he with? (Y/N) questioned.

Hiro and his gang. Karma answered.

What? Why? (Y/N) questioned.

Check the news. Karma urged.

(Y/N) huffed, rolling her eyes. She grabbed Hitoshi’s phone on his nightstand, gently picking up his thumb and using it on the touchpad. The phone unlocked, showing a picture of him and her resting on the grass under their favorite tree. She had encouraged him to take a picture of the two since they didn’t have any photos together. The picture he has as his screen saver is also matching hers, the fact bringing a smile on her face.

(Y/N) took a minute to scroll through his messages and photos before Karma redirected her attention back to the news. She opened up his browser and typed out “Japan news” along with their city.

Multiple articles from just hours ago brought up the suicide of five. Every article she read had very limited information, all she knew was that five teenage bodies of boys were discovered at Lake Samui last night, seeming to be suicides, the authorities say. She didn’t know the names as the police wouldn’t disclose personal information for the sake of the minors, but she could piece out it was Hiro and his gang since they had five members and there were five bodies.

What was Hitoshi doing there? (Y/N) questioned. Why would he be there late at night?

He killed them, obviously. Karma huffed.

Hitoshi? Do something like that? I doubt it, he’s a sweetheart. (Y/N) spoke, defending Hitoshi when he couldn’t. I mean… he’d tell me! We're friends!

Come on. I’m serious! He even asked for my help while you were in the shower. Karma insisted.

But why would he do that? They don’t mess with him anymore. (Y/N) questioned.

Obviously, he has a thing for you too. Karma groaned. You’re supposed to be the experienced one in this field, not me.

I apologize for not believing the falsehoods you lead me to. I don’t appreciate you lying for entertainment. (Y/N) huffed. Especially if you’re involving Hitoshi.

I’m not lying! Cross my heart and everything. You’ll see, he seemed a little out of it last night when he returned. I bet he’ll crack. Karma giggled.

Karma’s last comment brought a sense of fear into (Y/N)'s heart. What if he does break down? What if he tells the police and they take him away from her? What would even be the point of being a hero if it’s not by Hitoshi’s side. If he left, she’d probably quit everything about being a hero, move out of Japan and back to America, start a career in nursing. Or worse, she might kill herself. She was barely able to survive the weekend without seeing Hitoshi before, but now that they’re on a touching basis, she can’t survive five hours without seeing or feeling him.

(Y/N) noticed movement from Hitoshi and quickly deleted the search history so Hitoshi didn’t know she was searching the news. She deleted all other tabs she opened and put the phone back on his charger, hoping he wouldn’t reach for it when he wakes up and sees the battery is down by 2%.

“Morning, Toshi.” (Y/N) whispered, brushing his purple hair out of his eyes.

“Morning already?” he groaned.

“Well, really it’s 2 P.M.” (Y/N) corrected, looking at his clock for a second before turning her attention back at Hitoshi. “Want breakfast?”

“I want to go back to sleep.” He sighed, tired from last night.

“I don’t have a problem with that.” She spoke, immediately squirming herself deeper into the covers as she got in a comfortable position, being held by Hitoshi as she faced the fan he bought for her in his room. . . On Monday, news vans and police cars invaded the front gates. Police tried to hold off the media while anchormen tried to interview students about the dead kids, looking for any information such as who they were, why they could’ve committed suicide.

The police thought it was awfully suspicious for five kids to commit suicide together, of course they could’ve done a suicide pact, but there was nothing for the hanging kids to stand on before they hung themselves; raising some alarms for the police. Not only that, but from student reports, the kids weren’t well-liked either so there was definitely a chance they had enemies. If it was a murder, it was premeditated and five accounts of first degree murder alone.

Hitoshi looked normal per usual, but (Y/N) could tell his nervousness. His brows were furrowed a little more than usual and he avoided all eye contact from her and the police, instead keeping his eyes on the ground. His hands were slightly clammy but it was winter so there should be no reason Hitoshi’s feeling overheated.

Maybe Karma was actually right. (Y/N) thought. She said she helped him. The day he went out there was a paper on his nightstand that wasn’t there when I arrived but it appeared after I shower. The messy handwriting was obviously Karma’s, Hitoshi doesn’t write as passive-aggressively as Karma does to a piece of paper.

(Y/N) spared Hitoshi a glance, gaining his attention from the corner of his eye. He turned to look at her. They both stared at each other in silence before (Y/N) smiled, squeezing his hand slightly to give him reassurance.

We know your secret~ Karma singed, acting as if Hitoshi could actually hear her.

What’s his next move now? (Y/N) thought. We’re going to need to keep an eye on him in case he tries to rat himself out to the police.

He seems easy to crack under pressure when he feels guilty, and he definitely feels guilty right now. Karma commented. You can watch him during the day and I’ll watch during the night?

Why are you trying to help? You’ve already done enough damage. (Y/N) huffed.

Because I unlocked all their windows and rummaged through their rooms. That looks suspicious. The time that Hitoshi left last night, if the police tracked his phone, they would see he wouldn’t have had enough time to go to all their houses then the lake, and he never even passed them. So they’d think there was an accomplice, which was technically us because I broke into their houses and told Hitoshi where they were. Karma explained.

I shouldn’t be held accountable for your actions. (Y/N) sighed. But that’s just more of a reason to keep him quiet. We all will go down if he confesses.

We can still kidnap him? Karma questioned.

You’ve lost the smart streak you just had. (Y/N) commented.

(Y/N) and Hitoshi walked into class together, letting go of each other’s hands as they walked to their seats sat next to each other ([Y/N] made Karma change the seating charts digitally when the teacher assigned the seats). (Y/N) noticed the way Hitoshi kept his eyes on the window. He wasn’t very talkative today, but (Y/N) wasn’t either.

Is she sad that they’re gone? Is she mad at whoever did it? Is she mad at me? Is that why she’s quiet? Hitoshi thought anxiously.

“Toshi.” (Y/N) whispered, getting his attention. “Why are you so scared?”

“It’s just… surreal that they actually died.” Hitoshi whispered back.

“It’s not so bad, I mean. At least they won’t pick with us anymore?” (Y/N) spoke, then realized how dehumanized she sounded. “But, it’s a little depressing since they were apart of our lives. Even if bad.”

That makes them sound important. Hitoshi thought, resisting the urge to grimace.

He seems displeased. Was that not a good enough response? How do I feign grief while seeming not out of touch? (Y/N) thought. Should I start crying? Will that prove to him I’m a little affected by their deaths so it doesn’t seem like I’m crazy or apathetic, yet I don’t care much about what he did so I wouldn’t hold it against him?

Human emotions are very complex. Karma sighed.

I agree. (Y/N) commented.

The bell rang, signaling for everyone to get into class. The students that walked in either whispered or didn’t speak at all, seemingly stunned at the loss of the five students.

What’s the big deal? Five students out of the entire student body, who cares? They were assholes anyways. I say it should’ve been done sooner. Karma huffed.

Humans are social beings, I supposed it’d be natural to feel sympathy for the loss of others. Think about their friends and family, they’re probably heartbroken at the news. It’s like watching a kid die in a movie, it touches the audience and brings out the wanted reaction of sadness. (Y/N) explained.

So, you’re telling me humans can feel another’s pain? Karma questioned.

Yeah, that’s probably the closest you’d get to understanding it. (Y/N) confirmed.

Karma’s not as good with emotions as (Y/N). Karma has more battle IQ and brawn, but (Y/N) has more emotional IQ and brains (even if the emotional IQ is just a little more than Karma’s).

When lunch rolled around, Hitoshi hesitated a bit with standing up to go outside. The media might try to talk with any students who leave the school to get lunch, hell, news reporters will go as far as to trespassing school grounds to talk with the students because their company needs the latest details first before any other rivals get a hold of them.

“Our tree is in the back, away from the front gates where the reporters are. We’ll be safe from their greedy hands.” (Y/N) reassured.

“I just hate all the attention. Too much noise.” Hitoshi sighed, the lie believable enough for any outsiders hearing, but (Y/N) knew better.

They walked out of the classroom with no fear of being tailed by Hiro’s gang, heading to the vending machines to buy lunch; probably something like chips and a drink. (Y/N) didn’t make any lunch last night due to all the events that unfolded so quickly.

(Y/N) guided Hitoshi to their tree outside, being right as there was indeed no reporters, just stray students walking around and the high kids hiding near the dumpsters.

(Y/N) sat under the tree, watching as Hitoshi basically collapsed onto the ground. She waited a minute for Hitoshi to speak about something, anything really, just hear his voice and thoughts.

But he didn’t say anything, he kept quiet.

“Do you think it was actually a suicide?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Hitoshi sighed.

“Understandable.” (Y/N) nodded, not wanting to pry and have him mad at her.

She didn’t want to sleep on the couch, or in her own bed alone if she made him mad. Hitoshi hadn’t kicked her out yet so she’ll fully abuse every opportunity she gets.

That led her wondering to what their relationship really was. Friends don’t sleep in each other’s beds holding each other late at night; especially if they’re the opposite gender. They especially don’t kill for each other either. It made (Y/N) wonder if Hitoshi finally likes her now. The signs are there, he spends almost every day and night with her now. They eat meals together, sleep together, watch TV together, hold hands together, almost anything that can come to mind. The only time they seem to be apart is when they’re in the bathroom or (Y/N) has to go back to her father's to avoid suspicion (Hitoshi always ends up climbing through her window to sleep with her during those nights though).

Why don’t you ask to date? Karma questioned.

Are you serious? With what’s going on in his brain? He’s obviously affected by what he’s done, I don’t want him to panic and say no! (Y/N) hissed. When he’s in a more stable state, I’ll confess. So I’m going to have to wait a few months, perhaps when high school starts.

Their lunch was quieter than usual. No little games or random questions, the silence they had wasn’t even a comfortable one, but it wasn’t awkward either—just dead.

The pair stood up and headed back to class when the bell finally rang. For once, (Y/N) was more worried about Hitoshi than the math equation on the board. Hitoshi couldn’t even focus, he started to speculate that (Y/N) knew—there’s no way Karma actually has the ability to not tell (Y/N) something that can cause problems. From now on, Hitoshi has to keep a close leash on (Y/N).

Hitoshi may have a leash on her, but (Y/N) knows she can drag him in the dirt if she truly desired. . . Hitoshi knows it’s wrong. He understands he’s making his friendship unhealthy and risking his friendship by doing this. He used to believe he and (Y/N) spent almost all their time together, but now he knows they truly do.

He refuses to allow (Y/N) to leave bed without him, even if she has to go to the bathroom (he’ll wait in the hallway). He’s always watching from (Y/N)'s shoulder whenever she’s on her phone, even going as far as to unlocking it while she’s sleeping so he can go through text messages, call history, and search history to make sure she hasn’t contacted the police or spoken about the possibility of her knowing. He doesn’t allow her to go outside in public without him, always making sure he’s holding her hand in case she tries to wander off to the police station. Perhaps he’s being a little too paranoid and probably only setting alarms off in her head, but instead she seems to be enjoying the attention.

He doesn’t miss the big smile she gives him when he initiates hand-holding first, or when he hugs her tighter to make sure she doesn’t leave bed. It was exhilarating to be on the receiving end of the clingy affection. Her heart speeds up and her face gets red, but in a good way. She hopes that whenever she holds Hitoshi’s hand that he feels the same way she feels when he grabs her hand first.

He hopes—prays—that (Y/N) doesn’t notice how he’s purposely going out of his way to spend all his time with her. Even on the days she goes back home to spend at least some time with her family because her father is finally off with her hero work, Hitoshi would be staring through the window, waiting for the second she finished the little social intervention so he could call her to come over again. He’d read her lips to make sure she wasn’t spilling anything about him or the five boys who “committed suicide”.

He wants to say he feels terrible about stalking her like this, but he’s been learning so much more about her now that he’s going out of his way to pay attention. He’s an observant person as it is, but now it’s like he really knows her like the palm of his hands.

He knows of the burn marks on both her hands. He was peeking over her shoulder one night while she was texting (making sure she wasn’t contacting the police) and he noticed the pale marks. He questioned her about it and noticed how her face turned red yet played it off. “Oh, just some accidents I had as a kid. I was clumsy cooking.”

She was embarrassed of the scars because she was afraid it’d be unattractive to have damaged hands, but he didn’t seem to mind, in fact starting to absentmindedly trace the scars whenever they held hands (it never failed to make her face explode red when he did this).

He had learned about her writing books. Sometimes during mid-conversation or in class, she’d pull out her phone and write notes that came to her mind, ideas for her current stories or ongoing stories, thoughts for her to unravel and piece together later. He found the book on her shelf one day when he was alone in her room when she went to go shower. He noticed her name on the book and opened it, reading the first chapter until she finally came back. When he questioned if she wrote it, she nodded and showed him her laptop with the ever growing story ideas and plans.

Since then, whenever she published a book, he’d be the first one to buy it. He usually read them while she slept or in his rare spare time since she got embarrassed when someone would read her work in front of her, unsure if they’d enjoy her hard work or not. She was ecstatic when he returned and rambled on about the characters and story ideas inside of just saying a “that was good” or “good job” like everyone else did.

It made her feel as if the hours of researching, writing, planning, editing, rescaling, formatting, and tears she spent on the book was for nothing or had little value. It made her smile knowing he genuinely enjoyed her work and it left a mark in his head that he had to go to her and talk about the details he noticed. He actually pointed out the small details, actually put in the time to observe the words she had written.

Her writing gave him a better understanding and glimpse of her thought process. A writer usually puts themselves in the main protagonist’s shoes that way their actions, words, and thoughts would be of the protagonist, but sometimes, a writer’s true perspective accidentally slips into the page, whether it’d be a favorite color or a character. He noticed how one of the characters in her book had a little more screen time than the other characters, a good friend of the main protagonist who struggled with insomnia, so the pair would go out on long night drives to battle her friend’s insomnia. The characters were hinted of having crushes on one another, and he noticed how (Y/N) got especially more flustered than usual when bringing up how he liked the bond between the two characters.

It made him wonder if that was her true feelings about him, but he didn’t want to jump to conclusions. The story was about the murder of the main protagonist’s friend, and how everyone forgot him except her. He returned to her one day in spirit, asking for her help to find his killer. The crazy thing was there was a clone (more of a shell) of the best friend wandering around the place, helping erase people’s minds of the murder. A tale of mystery and the supernatural, of romance and of betrayal. It was definitely something more different from her other books, but he felt enraptured all the same. The dead friend’s tired eyes, his soothing voice, his pale skin, his teasing yet sarcastic remarks, his actions such as holding the protagonist’s hand through her anxiety—all of it left his face red and heart hammering at the possibility (Y/N) was describing them, his face in mind when she was writing (friendly blushing, of course, because they’re friends, he tried to convince himself).

His stalking led him to noticing many things. The items she had saved on her online shopping cart (he went through her phone). The books she read (mostly of slasher horror, fantasy, and true crime, but he did notice a couple of manipulation and deception, whatever those were for). He noticed the TV shows she enjoyed. He noticed the pattern of stuffed animals she had; big and fluffy and cute, oddly enough for her personality. Even learning her favorite foods in each category.

All these details help create an image of (Y/N) in his head, each new thread of information helping perfect the image and expand ideas of how to react in situations and what to buy for gifts (friendship gifts, of course).

Unfortunately, his prayers of her not noticing could not be answered (whether there was no God or he wanted to see Hitoshi suffer for his sins), as he was caught. Many times.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) questioned, sleepy eyes recognizing her phone case in Hitoshi’s hands, along with seeing the threads of messages he was reading.

“Nothing.” He spoke, waving it off despite the sweat rolling down his face from being caught.

He’s been caught scrolling through her phone while she slept.

“Toshi? What are you doing all the way over there? I can walk to the mailbox myself.” (Y/N) shouted, spotting Hitoshi from down the street when she got too paranoid and turned around to make sure she wasn’t being followed.

“The weather is nice!” Hitoshi shouted.

“But… it’s pouring? And you don’t like getting wet?” (Y/N) spoke.

Caught tailing her in public (not only to the mailbox, but the grocery store).

Those were only two scenarios of the many stalking situations he’s been finding himself in. He tells himself it’s just to make sure she doesn’t learn the truth, and if she does, keep her mouth shut, but he’s convinced it’s because of the beating in his heart. The heat in his face. The sudden inability to breathe. The soothing tranquility of her touch. The luring relaxation of her voice. The blood rush to his ears and—

“Toshi? What are you doing out my window? It’s 2 A.M?” (Y/N) spoke, suddenly opening her window and scaring the soul out of Hitoshi.

“I—Uh.” He stammered. “Couldn’t sleep without you.”

“Oh.” (Y/N) spoke. “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep without you either. Come in. It’s cold out there.”

Hitoshi climbed into her room, shutting the window behind him as she walked to her door and locked it.

“You know, you’ve been acting a little weird lately. Mind telling me?” (Y/N) questioned.

Hitoshi looked to the side, unsure of what excuse he can use this time.

“It’s complicated.” He sighed.

“Sure is. You’ve been on edge for weeks.” (Y/N) pointed out, walking to Hitoshi. “Could it be? No…” she muttered, purposely audible for Hitoshi to hear her.

It’s time to let the mask slip.

“What?” Hitoshi spoke quickly, alarmed.

He knew Karma couldn’t be trusted.

“It’s just… Karma told me something funny a few weeks ago. The day after the those boys committed suicide. But it’s probably noth—“ he was so quick, she didn’t even notice he moved until she felt herself get shoved down onto her bed.

He had pushed her down and pinned her wrists, his legs in between her legs, trapping her from trying to escape him. Her fear of men be damned, he couldn’t even remember that if he tried to, at the moment he was too worried on what she knew. He needed to know what she knew.

“What did she say, (Y/N)?” Hitoshi muttered, his voice quiet, as if scared anyone else would hear their conversation, serious enough to acknowledge her name (something rare from him).

“She said you killed them. Hiro, Yamada, Jāo, Gen, and Kishō.” (Y/N) spoke.

“She’s a liar.” Hitoshi snapped.

“Oh, but it makes sense, Hitoshi.” (Y/N) retorted, a smile growing on her face.

For the first time, he didn’t like her saying his full name. Not as sinisterly as she said it.

“You left that same night they died. You left late. There was a paper on your desk that had Karma’s handwriting. I read their names and the addresses. Then you left when I fell asleep. I woke up because you weren’t there and Karma was on watch. You came home hours later with gloves on your hand and your clothes smelt like the woods and Jāo’s cologne. You showered right when you came back and crawled back in bed. My pocket knife I stole from Gen was missing, found at the crime scene later on the news.” She explained. “Why aren't you the killer?”

“It was a mistake. I didn’t mean to.” He hissed.

“Oh? Hitoshi, what happened to you saying you didn’t kill them? I thought Karma lied, you said.” (Y/N) pointed out.

“Fuck. I-I… I did. I did do it.” Hitoshi confessed, his lungs having a hard time breathing at his confession, as if telling him to not utter the words. “But I didn’t mean to.”

“How could you not mean to? You got their addresses. You figured out where they were. You walked hours to them. You were fully dressed and tied your shoes. You had gloves, rope, my pocket knife. You couldn’t stopped at one, at two, at three, hell even four, but you stopped at five. You stopped your murder spree when there was no other man left to kill.” (Y/N) explained. “You know what that makes you? Do you know what killing five people makes you? Not only a murderer, or even a serial killer, but a mass murderer.”

Wow, Karma really set him up on that. Was that planned?

“It. Was. An. Accident.” Hitoshi hissed, his grip on her wrists tightening.

“You can say that, I can say that—the police won’t.” (Y/N) hummed.

His heart fell out of his chest, betrayal lacing his eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that, love. You’re almost making me feel bad.” (Y/N) pouted. “Why’d you do it? Huh?”

“I…” he paused, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves as he started shaking. “I was mad. They hurt you—and that wasn’t even the first time. They could’ve done worse if Karma didn’t step in.” He confessed. “I wanted you to be safe. For them to never hurt you, I killed them for you.”

Yeah, he killed them for her. She’s safe now. He saved her. She’s basically indebted to him now. The least she can do is keep a measly secret for him.

“Jāo was killed different. Why?” (Y/N) questioned.

“Just felt like it…” Hitoshi muttered, adverting her eyes.

“He was my favorite one.” (Y/N) hummed. “He was cute too. I would’ve gave him more than one kiss, but—“

“Shut up!” Hitoshi snapped, his grip tightening on her wrists more.

She relished the pain, imagining the bruises for later as she let out a giggle, obviously enjoying this little moment between them.

“You were jealous. I knew it.” She laughed. “You wanted your own kiss, didn’t you?”

Hitoshi refused to look at her, his jaw tight and clenched as his eyebrows were furrowed, showing his rage.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you.” (Y/N) barked, gaining his attention.

She thought it was funny, she was the one pinned under him yet she held entire control of the conversation and situation.

“Now tell me, were you jealous of Jāo? Were you jealous that I patched him up? That I kissed—“

“Yes.” Hitoshi hissed, his teeth gritting together as he cut her off, anything so he didn’t have to hear the dreadful details of the two sharing an intimate moment he should’ve had with her.

(Y/N) hummed, pleased of his submission.

“You know. I didn’t kiss his lips. I could’ve, but I saved that for you.” (Y/N) admitted. “You’re the only one I would want to kiss like that.”

“…Huh?” Hitoshi voiced, confused.

A few moments ago, she was beating it into his head that he’s a mass murderer, and now she’s talking about wanting to kiss him?

“I can’t do that if you’re in jail. So, let’s make a deal.” (Y/N) smiled. “I’ll keep your secret safe if you kiss me. A real kiss, not a peck.”

“W-what? But… we’re friends. Friends don’t kiss each other.” Hitoshi mumbled.

“That’s because we’re special friends. Me and you have been together for a long time, so we’re special friends. Special friends can kiss each other.” (Y/N) explained. “You said you wanted to kiss me, did you not?” she questioned, tilting her head and licking her lips so a gloss appeared on them.

“I-I mean… yeah.” His words are getting twisted by her, he knows that much, but he also knows she’s speaking the truth he tried to hide under his words “but—“

“I’m willing to go to jail for you. I’m willing to be an accomplice to murder, the least you can do is kiss me, Hitoshi.” She spoke, pouting her lips.

He was shocked, unsure of what to do. His heart told him to do it, but his brain had alarms going off at her red flags he’s just now noticed. He’s too deep in now, and if he backed down now, she can easily turn him in and wouldn’t be an accomplice because she’d have the excuse of “not knowing” until now since he gave an official confession.

He’s not sure when he leaned in, but found himself giving in as he brought a hand up to her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. (Y/N) used the opportunity to take her hand and rest it on his cheek, using her other hand to grab his shirt and pull him in closer, resting his chest on hers. Hitoshi pulled away after a few seconds, maybe three.

“My lips are now sealed.” She whispered, looking into his eyes with nothing but sickening-sweet adoration.

Hitoshi let out a relieved sigh. He hopes that she’s better at keeping a secret than Karma. He looked down and noticed the smile on her face, her cheeks red as she looked up at him.

“See? It wasn’t so bad! Did it taste like strawberry?” she questioned.

Hitoshi took a moment to think. He couldn't exactly focus on the kiss, not his with pounding heart or shaky hands. The fear of almost being caught and blackmailed, then the sudden request of a kiss, was working his heart and brain overtime. He couldn't even process the kiss, his first purposeful kiss (both kisses that he coincidentally shared with her).

"I-I don't know..." He muttered. "I gu—"

(Y/N) grabbed his shirt and smashed her lips onto his, stealing another kiss from him. His eyes widened, shocked at her boldness, but he soon closed his eyes, taking the time to relish the taste of her lips like how she wanted. His hands found their way to her head, wrapping his fingers around her tresses and positioning her head in a more comfortable position for them both. She gave his bottom lip an experimental lick, silently telling him to do that same. He did, and somehow the intoxicating strawberry taste got stronger, like a drug he couldn't get enough of. Before the kiss could develop any further, she pulled away. He found himself chasing her lips for a second before gaining his composure. A fire red took over his cheeks, ashamed of how caught up he had himself over a little kiss with his best friend.

"Did you taste it then?" she whispered, her voice low and sultry to tease him.

He nodded, adverting her eyes so he didn't have to look at them and have his heart quicken again.

"Tastes good, yeah?" (Y/N) questioned, receiving another nod from him. "You can kiss me as much as you'd like to taste it again."

Her comment shocked him, forcing his eyes back to her as he opened his mouth.

"But—"

"Special friends, remember? We're allowed to kiss each other." (Y/N) spoke, before her lips turned into a pout. "Do you think I'm lying to you? You think I'd like to you, Toshi?"

Hitoshi noticed how she went back to using his nickname again. He was a little relieved of that, it must mean that the tense situation disappeared. Hitoshi realized that even know he wasn't pinning her arms anymore, he still had her caged on her bed.

"Oh, sorry." He muttered, backing up a bit to give her space before remembering her question. "No... I don't think you'd lie to me."

He honestly wasn't sure he believed his answer himself. He believes he's lying to himself too.

"Don't be sorry." (Y/N) smiled. "I liked it." She confessed.

Hitoshi looked down to advert his eyes, noticing the marks he left on her purple wrists.

"Ah, crap. Your wrists..." he pointed out.

He wanted to reach out and touch them, gently rub them in hopes that their normal pale color would reappear and the dark red marks would disappear. He didn't even realize how rough he was treating her.

"I'm sorry." He finally got out.

(Y/N) trailed her eyes down to them, noticing the coloring. It'll bruise later, but she doesn't mind, she actually looks forward to seeing the vibrant color later.

"Oh, don't worry about it, Hitoshi." (Y/N) waved off.

"But I hurt you." He spoke, his eyebrows furrowed, angry in himself. "I told you I killed them to protect you, but I ended up hurting you."

"Hitoshi..." (Y/N) sighed.

She used his first name, becoming serious once more (something he didn't quite like, not after everything that's happened tonight). She stood up from her bed and walked towards Hitoshi. She noted that he didn't even try to back up, he just stayed in place and watched as she got closer, close enough to rest her hands on Hitoshi's face, forcing him to make eye contact with her so he knew she was being serious.

"I trust you. I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. I wouldn't have let you pin me down for as long as you did if I felt unsafe." (Y/N) admitted.

Hitoshi nodded, his nerves at ease as he looked into her eyes, before noticing the way she started smiling.

"Besides, it felt good. I like it when you do it." (Y/N) confessed, backing up from him to give him space. "You should do it more, yeah?" she hummed.

Hitoshi almost choked on air at her confession, his eyes darting to her as he gulped air down.

"Hey! Y-you can't just say that!" Hitoshi spluttered.

"What? I'm just being honest." She smirked. "Anyways, you're probably tired, huh? It's been such an emotional roller coaster for you. Come to bed."

Hitoshi hesitated for a second. After everything they've been through tonight, is it really a good idea to sleep in the same bed with the girl who not only is blackmailing him, but who he was also kissing just moments ago? His mind grew fuzzy just remembering the kiss again. He's convinced she has her own brainwashing quirk, there's no way a memory should have that much of an influence on his heart.

(Y/N) was already in pajamas, but she went through her drawers and gave a pair of clothes for Hitoshi. She unlocked her bedroom door and walked out of her room, going to her bathroom to brush her hair and use the restroom. She left Hitoshi with his thoughts.

He's not sure if (Y/N) is a sociopath or a psychopath or both. Considering her mood swings tonight; from prying, to cunning, to straight up manipulation, to teasing, to seriousness, to manipulation, to teasing once more. He's certain a stable and normal person wouldn't act like that (he's also sure a "stable and normal person such as himself" would stick around and deal with this too).

As (Y/N) brushed her hair in the bathroom, Karma tried leaving her, but (Y/N) fought her reigns.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, accidentally speaking out loud, then recognizing she was verbally speaking and retreating to the subspace Karma and her shared to communicate with one another in private.

I'm not going to let you cause anymore trouble! (Y/N) huffed.

I can't believe you allowed me to stay in your body during that kiss! With absolutely no warning given to me! Karma snapped.

I didn't know it would happen, besides, you didn't feel it. (Y/N) sighed.

I don't want to be in your body at night with him anymore! she whined. Who knows what else you both will do! Teenagers and their damn hormones!

Shut up! (Y/N) growled. Fine. You can leave at night, as long as you stay in the house and don't communicate with anyone!

She knew damn well Karma would leave the house, she just hopes she won't create as much trouble as she has lately.

Deal. Karma agreed.

(Y/N) sighed, pulling up her nightgown so Karma could leave her body without ripping her clothes. Karma quickly escaping, turning to look at (Y/N) before running through the bathroom door, going who knows where.

(Y/N) opened the door and walked back to Hitoshi, opening her bedroom door before turning around and shutting it, locking it behind her. She crawled into bed and opened the covers for him, noticing the slight tensing of his shoulders before he relaxed, laying down in bed with her yet keep his distance.

Like I'm going to allow that. (Y/N) thought, scooting closer to Hitoshi and grabbing his head, leading it to her chest and making him the little spoon as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, before resting her hand on his hair and threading her fingers through his hair.

She noticed how his eyes widened, and before he could speak, she stopped it.

"It's about time for you to be the little spoon now." She spoke, then smiled. "Want a goodnight kiss?" she teased.

Hitoshi let out an exhale of air to let out a huff, rolling his eyes to seem annoyed, but she knew he wasn't by how the corners of his lips raised and how his cheeks had a dusted pink sunset on them. He leaned up and gave her a goodnight peck on the lips. Even though it was a peck, she supposes it'll suffice.

She knew she had him wrapped around her finger, but she knew he didn't mind it either.

That was the last of what I had for this series! The Amnesiac! Obsessive! Patient! Andrew Graves x Yandere! Nurse! Reader is currently my main priority to write, so the next chapter for this series might take some time.

Want more Hitoshi Shinso content? Check out the Hitoshi Shinso masterlist!

Inbox is OPEN for requests!

Series chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Current, ongoing.

38 notes · View notes

alovesongtheywrote · 7 months

Text

Hide and Seek | Eddie Munson x Reader

♥ Summary: When your first meeting with boyfriend's family goes off the rails to a murderous degree, you call your cute co-worker for help. as it turns out, he has a couple demonic tricks up his sleeves [Demon!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader]

♥ Warnings: 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni. graphic violence, extreme gore, a rape metaphor, threats of sa, vomiting, stabbing, murder and attempted murder, gun related violence, violence against women, derogatory terms used for the reader by someone other than eddie (whore, slut, skank), multiple side characters infer that the only purpose of individuals with wombs is to have children/make sacrifices for others, unprotected sex, p in v sex, mild breeding kink, monster fucking, angst, mediocre smut imo, fluff. if you've ever seen ready or not, take that, and combine it with labour paris paloma. if i missed anything, please let me know so i can tag it

♥ A/N: other content tags include: modern au. demon au. there's vague lore to this, i might write a follow up. for more author's note, please check the bottom of this post.

♥ Word count: 23041

♥♥♥

“Grace couldn't be happier after she marries the man of her dreams at his family's luxurious estate. There's just one catch- she must now hide from midnight until dawn while her new in-laws hunt her down with guns, crossbows and other weapons.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you hissed, snatching the movie away from your coworker, “Do not read that shit to me right now, I’m anxious enough as it is.”

A laugh slipped out from Eddie’s soft lips as he scrunched his face up in sympathy, “That bad, huh?”

“Don’t laugh at me,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands, “I never should’ve agreed to this. I’m so stupid.”

Eddie shrugged, pouting slightly, “No, you’re stupid for other reasons. This isn’t stupid. This is far from stupid. You’re just meeting your boyfriend’s family, I mean, that was gonna happen one way or another, right?”

You didn’t give a verbal response right away. You just let out a pained scream, muffling the sound of it with your palms.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Eddie gave your arm a sympathetic pat.

“It’s just,” you pulled your hands away from your face, “It feels so soon- and I didn’t think my first meeting with them would be a weekend long getaway at their giant fucking mansion. How the fuck am I supposed to deal with that? A giant fucking mansion? Who the fuck has a giant mansion in this economy?”

“Your boyfriend’s parents.”

You let out another distressed sound, “I mean, I knew Roman had money, I just… I didn’t know it was McMansion money.”

Eddie nodded, hopping up on the counter of the always quiet video store, “I see. So what exactly are you afraid of here? Slipping on marble floors? Breaking their solid gold antiques? Using the wrong fork in such an egregious fashion that you get yelled at?”

“Honestly, I’m mostly afraid of blaspheming or something. His parents are like, hyper-Catholic.”

A smile crossed your face, but it faded far too fast for Eddie’s taste, “God, his parents are gonna hate me.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, or an adorable baby cow. You weren’t entirely sure how he managed to pull off that expression. Everything about his appearance seemed to scream tough, scary metalhead- except for his eyes. His eyes betrayed the fact that under layers of leather, chains, and eyeliner, Eddie Munson was deeply kind.

“And now you’ve lost me,” he leaned back, tipping himself over the counter to a dangerous level, “How could anyone hate you, angel?”

“Eddie, I work a minimum wage job in a nearly-defunct movie store that sells DVDs. I go to a community college for a degree that won’t take me anywhere. I’m pathetic, and I have no energy ninety percent of the time, and even though I’m going to try and look nice this weekend, I know I’ll look like a mess. I’m nothing. I’m nothing, and I’m going nowhere, and in a hundred years I won’t be anything more than a footnote on a footnote on their son’s wikipedia page. They’re gonna see that I’m not good enough for him. I’m never gonna be enough for him and they’re gonna hate me for it.”

“Sweetheart-” his eyes were wide. He looked completely shocked, taken aback that you saw yourself as nothing.

“You know, whenever we get an angry customer, everyone here hides behind you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unsure of where this was going. Eddie continued, “It’s because you’re strong as hell and you’re terrifying- and you can make anyone see reason. You’re smart as fuck and you take no shit from anyone. You’re the furthest thing in the world from pathetic..”

“You’re just saying that-”

“I’m not!” he leaned forward, “I promise! And I mean, besides all that, you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met- and you’re definitely the hottest.”

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, finally cracking a smile, “You know Steve.”

“‘The Hair?’ Well, I mean, I have eyes, I know he’s gorgeous, but you? You’re a total knockout,” he threw a few punches into the air. You couldn’t hold back your laugh.

He smiled at you, just admiring the way you wheezed at his eccentricities.

“You aren’t nothing,” he said as your laughter subsided.

“I know,” you didn’t really believe your own words. You were pretty sure he picked up on that.

“I’m serious! You could have the entire world if you wanted it. Forget a hundred years, I give it six months before the Earth is yours.”

“Are you sure about that?” “Six months! Then the world is yours and the rest of us are just living in it.”

You scoffed, hopping up on the counter beside him, “Make it four.”

“Or less!”

A soft, content silence passed over the two of you. You watched as Eddie’s long, slender fingers tapped a beat into his thigh. You reached out, taking his hand into your own, running your thumb over the blue veins that lay beneath his skin. God, you didn’t know a person could have such beautiful hands.

“Still,” with his hand still in yours, you leaned into his shoulder, using it as an oddly soft pillow while you spoke, “Even if I am taking over the world, I haven’t done it yet- so this weekend is going to fucking suck.”

“Hey, if there’s anyone who can deal with hellish in-laws, it would be you. Pretend they’re just customers. If anyone can deal with a couple of rich in-laws for a weekend, it’s you.”

“Is it?” you sighed, “Or are they gonna kill me because I used the wrong salad fork?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, a smirk crossing his lips. He gave your hand a squeeze and let go before he jumped off the cash desk, “They’re not gonna kill you, sweetheart. You think Roman would let them?”

“Who knows? Think of Grace. Think of Chris Washington. This could totally be a Get Out, or a Ready or Not!”

You were playing around now, dabbling in worst case scenarios to ease some pressure off of your worried mind. Eddie played along with you, as he so often did.

“You’re right. You’re totally gonna get murdered this weekend. I’ll have to find someone to pick up your Monday shift.”

“I know,” you feigned a wince, “Sorry in advance. I’ll be too busy getting sacrificed to the devil.”

Eddie paused for a split second. His smile wavered so briefly that you didn’t quite catch it as you continued on your dramatic rant.

“And yes, I should have informed the company over text, at least! But!” you shrugged, “I was too busy getting murdered by my in-laws.”

“That’s no excuse!” Eddie gasped, taking on some weird, posh sounding accent- presumably the sound of the bourgeoisie, “You should know that the interests of Family Video come before personal crap like getting murdered.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Boss Man. I’d ask you not to fire me, but, y’know. I’m dead.”

Eddie’s smile returned in full force as he twisted away from you, focusing on the new task of placing films back on their shelves. As you gazed at his back, gears began to turn in your brain. Maybe keeping someone in the know about your whereabouts wouldn’t be such a terrible idea.

“Hey, Eddie? Would it- would it be okay if I did inform you? Over text? If something happens, I mean.”

He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was much softer, “Nothing’s gonna happen to you, sweetheart.”

“I know that. Logically, I know that- I’m talking about a scenario where everything goes terribly wrong and I end up offending the hell out of his parents. If they hate me, can I call you?”

Eddie nodded, his sweet eyes widening as his strong hands wrapped around the plastic case of another film.

“Of course, sweetheart. Of course.”

You bit your lip as you watched him turn. The way Eddie spoke to you filled something inside of you. It met a deep dark need that ached somewhere in your chest. You wondered if, in a different universe- one where you had met Eddie before you met Roman- you would still have that need.

You kept your eyes on Eddie for a few minutes before you finally turned away.

Hours later, the clicking sound of your heels echoed across the front lawn of a rather imposing mansion. The smell of freshly cut grass overtook your senses, nearly covering the underlying stench of metal. Already, the grass was covered in fallen Autumn leaves.

A mildly uncomfortable dress clung to your body, exposing your shoulders to the chill of the early evening air. An expensive bottle of red wine sat heavy in your hands. Behind you, you could hear the muttering of butlers (butlers!) as your luggage was removed from the car you’d arrived in.

Roman stood at your side, his piercing blue eyes dead focused on the door a few paces ahead of you. His suit was perfectly tailored to every sharp edge of his toned form. The harsh scent of his expensive cologne stung your nose. He was the very picture of confidence- next to him, you felt like a lost, sad stray puppy.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked, not bothering to turn to face him. You knew he wouldn’t look you in the eye for a question this trivial, “You really think I’m ready to meet-”

“You are,” there was no hesitation in your paramour’s voice. There was no compassion, either.

“And you think they’re ready to meet me?”

When you were met with silence, you steeled yourself. You took a deep breath, clenching your fists as your lungs filled with the scent of cut grass and cologne.

“Now, the second that door opens, you are quiet and polite, got that? Don’t speak out of turn, laugh softly, and for once in your life, do as I ask.”

You didn’t have time to respond.

The door swung open as you and Roman approached, revealing the smiling faces of a middle aged couple. You had been informed about them on the car ride up- and you didn’t fail to notice the way they looked you up and down, judging you in a practiced silent way.

The woman, Roman’s mother, had short dark hair, styled neatly so her bangs framed her unwrinkled face. From what you’d been told, she was a fan of diamonds, anti-aging creams, and vintage reds- hence the bottle in your hands. The man next to her, Roman’s father, Benedict, shared your boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes. The watch on his wrist was expensive, though you already knew it would be. When it came to the finer things in life, Benedict (never Ben) was something of a collector.

The couple was perfectly warm as they welcomed you into their home. Cecilia placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, and Benedict clapped his son on the back, expressing a sort of fatherly pride. Still, as you stepped through the heavy oak doors, you were overwhelmed with a sense of wrongness. It took all your strength to smile through it. You had to ignore every instinct you had- all of which were currently screaming for you to run.

A chill ran up your spine as the doors swung shut behind you, trapping you inside with a heavy thud. Someone took the wine from your hands. You had no choice now. You were in.

You tried to shake off your unease as you moved through the hallways. Each space you entered dripped with the trappings of wealth. Everything was crafted with fine materials by the very best craftsmen. The decorations were decadent and modern and entirely overwhelming. You could just tell that everything in this house was more expensive than your car.

You did your best to listen as Cecilia and Benedict took turns delivering the history of the marble floors and fancy trims, but you couldn’t help but focus on their taste in wall decor. Oil portraits hung on the walls; painted visages of men and women stared down from golden frames. Their bodies were bathed in painted finery, and their eyes seemed to watch you as you passed through their hallway.

“Ah, I see you have an eye for art!” Benedict exclaimed, stepping away from your side for a moment to gesture to the portrait of one woman in specific. She had the saddest honey-brown eyes you had ever seen. You wanted to reach out and hold her hand- which was odd, considering the fact that she was a painting.

Benedict continued, ignoring you as you became lost in your own mind, “These paintings are all originals, all commissioned by the family.”

Your eyes followed the line of portraits as far as you could see. In each gilded frame, a different face peered out at you with sad, desperate eyes.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Cecilia took your elbow in her hand, pulling you closer to the painting of the brown-eyed girl, “She was Benedict's darling first wife. She passed so tragically young.”

Her words told a tragic tale, but her tone was nothing short of upbeat. You stood straighter, becoming more aware of Cecilia’s proximity to you and the smile on her face as she continued to speak of Benedict’s late partner.You couldn’t help but notice that the woman in the frame was missing a ring.

“She died in childbirth, as did her baby- her only child. When she left us, we had this portrait made.”

“Tragically, that’s the case with most of these old things,” Roman said, placing a hand on the small of your back, “When a LeBuer passes, we commemorate their life with art. It’s a nice way to keep them close- to keep them from leaving. Someday soon, you’ll join them.”

You nodded, entirely unsure of how to respond to that statement. All of your jokes with Eddie had been just that- jokes. Now, however, with the eyes of the portraits boring into you, you were actually starting to get freaked out.

“Come now,” Benedict’s voice boomed through the hallway as he guided the group away from the portrait and down the corridor, “It would be rude to leave the rest of the family waiting.”

“Oh, yes. They’ve all been so excited to meet you! Roman has told us such wonderful things.”

You peered at Roman from the corner of your eye, wondering what, exactly, he had told his family. He kept his gaze on the portrait, glaring at the woman within as if she had done him a personal injustice. He remained there, stock still with that look on his face until his parents pulled you away, leaving Roman behind.

A short ways away, the hall opened up into a second foyer that was somehow even grander than the first. A chaise lounge sat in the middle of the room. On a small table next to it, dried flowers sat perfectly arranged in a vase that definitely cost more than you could hope to make in a lifetime. An elegant staircase twisted up one wall. Beneath it stood an oak door, covered from top to bottom with fine gold detailing. When you looked closer, you could see that the gold made up tiny illustrations of what you had to assume were biblical stories.

The other walls were decorated with more portraits. More finely dressed men and women, more piercing eyes staring down from gilded frames. You suppressed a shiver of discomfort.

Roman’s parents stopped you just as you reached the door beneath the stairs. Benedict stood behind you, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders as Cecilia gathered your hands in her own.

“Now, some members of the family were unable to make it- tonight you’ll be meeting our daughter Medea-”

“And her no good husband,” Benedict continued, the tone of his voice and Cecilia’s eye roll betraying the truth behind his joke.

“You’ll also meet our eldest son, Adam, and Roman’s aunt and uncle, their son, and-”

“Cathrine,” Roman announced his return to the group, “You’ll get to meet Cathrine.”

Honestly, you had no clue who the fuck that was. Cathrine could’ve been the family pet for all you knew- but something about the way Roman’s lips curved around her name, the way his voice took on a tender tone that he never even used with you- that said otherwise.

“Are you ready, dear?” Cecilia took your hands in hers again as she asked. Her words were kind, but you couldn’t help but think her smile looked fake. You drew in a harsh breath. Your heart began to race in your chest. You drew your lower lip between your teeth, nibbling at it as your nerves twisted in an anxious dance. Cecilia’s hand drifted up towards her neck, where she laid a few dainty fingers over a necklace- a gold chain and a crucifix. For a split second, and only a split second, you could see disgust cross her face.

“I-” you stuttered, “I think I need a moment.”

Cecilia said nothing. She no longer looked like she wanted to throw up at the very sight of you, but there was still a cold look in her eyes. Benedict was unaffected by his wife’s sudden frost.

“Just as well! We’ll let the family know you’ve arrived.”

He took his wife by the elbow and gestured for his son to follow, guiding them both through the massive doors into what looked like a void of darkness. Before you could question it, the patriarch’s voice called out to you.

“Come in soon, dear. They’re waiting for you.”

You smiled, attempting to cover the tremor that ran through you at the echoing sound of Benedict’s voice. The second the doors shut behind the happy family, you let your facade drop. You collapsed onto the chaise lounge. At a different time, you might’ve felt glamorous doing that, in the moment, you just felt anxious.

Moving quickly, you pulled your phone from your dress pocket. Your lockscreen was a photo of you and Roman at a beach. His arm was wrapped around you, his eyes and smile confident and self assured. Beside him, you simply looked inadequate- tired and anxious. Unlocking the phone, you were met with your homescreen- a photo of you and Eddie where the flash made his eyes go red- and a text from the man himself.

EDDIE: hope you got to the haunted mansion safe and sound (ooooooo ooooooo *spooky sounds*)

Your thumbs flew as you typed a response.

Y/N: i’m here, and i haven’t been murdered yet. this place is fucking *weird* though

EDDIE: what brand of weird are we talkin?? good weird? bad weird? me weird? that time gareth got drunk and tried to organize the gravel behind my place weird?

You paused, smiling before you resumed typing.

Y/N: ok, tbh, i don’t think anything is gonna top gareth weird

Y/N: but things are like… weird weird.

Y/N: i don’t mean to be a bitch. his family is perfectly nice, it’s just… they have paintings?? oil paintings of all these dead people. apparently they’re all relatives, but there are so many of them

EDDIE: huh

EDDIE: maybe it isn’t ready or not, maybe you’re in crimson peak, and one of his relatives is murdering all of their wives

EDDIE: hey if you see tom hiddleston wandering around looking sad, lmk, i wanna get in on that

Y/N: ha ha, very funny

Y/N: but seriously, i hate these damn paintings- it feels like the eyes are following me

Y/N: I’m On Edge, eds. seriously, Roman told me I was gonna join the paintings on the wall one day, and maybe it was a marriage proposal, but it felt more like a threat

There was a pause, a moment where all you had were three little dots telling you he was typing. For a split second, the storm of anxiety brewing in your chest threatened to overtake you. Your breath came in harsh pants as your hands began to shake. Eddie would think you were overreacting. It was just a comment from your boyfriend- you thought for sure Eddie would call you crazy. Roman would have called you crazy.

EDDIE: do you want me to come get you? I can be there in half an hour if i drive fast enough

Just like that, the storm faded. The thundering beat of your heart returned to normal. You couldn’t help the grin that crossed your face as you stared at your phone, nor could you withhold the relieved sigh that left your lungs.

Y/N: don’t break any traffic laws for me just yet… but leave your phone on, just in case

EDDIE: as you wish. stay safe, sweetheart

You stared at your phone until the screen went black, trying to fight the warmth that crept up your face. After years of knowing Eddie, those damn pet names never lost their effect on you. You tried to shake it off, steeling yourself to prepare for your next challenge.

In-laws.

With a calming deep breath- and then a second and third calming deep breath when the first one didn’t do its job- you pushed open the doors and made your way into the next impossibly fancy room.

Immediately, you were overcome with the sense that the very act of entering this room was a massive mistake. It was almost as if the space itself knew you did not belong inside of it.

A wide, oval shaped table took center stage in the middle of the room. Like everything else in the house, it was finely crafted- and probably custom made. The surface was carved with strange, intricate shapes. Chairs had been scattered around it haphazardly, as if a family sat down only to get right back up again. The walls were covered in paintings alongside various taxidermied trophies from various hunts. Unlike the paintings, the glass eyes of the deer, foxes, rabbits and bears didn’t seem to follow you. Two cabinets sat at the far end of the room, both well stocked with guns and other weapons that you could just see through beautiful glass panes.

The entire LeBuer family fell silent and turned to face you, as if you had rudely interrupted each and every one of their conversations.

You stood there for a moment, facing Roman’s family with wide eyes. His parents were standing with a pregnant woman, her hands clutching the arm of the man that stood beside her. That would probably be Medea and her husband if Benedict ’s clenched fists were anything to go by. Across the room from them, another couple stood talking to two young men, presumably Roman’s aunt and uncle, his brother and his cousin. At the very back of the room, in front of a massive portrait of a dark-eyed man with a devilish smirk, stood Roman. With him was a woman you did not recognize. Cathrine.

Each and every one of them wore an expression like you had just kicked their dog. Lovely.

The room seemed to drop a few degrees in the following moments. Silence filled the air as you stared at the family, and they stared back. You had half a mind to turn right back around and call Eddie, and you were about to follow through with it when Benedict moved towards you.

“Ladies and gentlemen! And other creatures of the night,” he pointed at Roman’s uncle with a grin, “It is my honour and privilege to introduce you to the newest member of the family.”

You felt like that was a bit extreme, but really, you were just glad someone was talking.

“Miss (L/N),” Benedict ’s hand was on your back, guiding you through the room, “I’d like to introduce you to my brother, his lovely wife, their son, Alexander, and our boy Adam.”

You tried to hide the tremor in your fingers as you made your introductions and shook their hands. Roman’s aunt and uncle gave you polite but cold smiles. Alexander looked completely uninterested in you. Adam almost looked too interested. He wouldn’t let go of your hand until you pulled away with moderate force. The smell of his cologne was overwhelming.

The storm of anxiety Eddie had eased moments before had returned in full. You could feel it clawing at your ribs- it was a force of nature that became less like a weather event and more like a feral creature the longer you stood in that room. Every moment you spent speaking to Roman’s family was a moment your instincts screamed at you for not running away.

But you were being silly. These were just nerves. You wanted to make a good impression. You wanted to get along with Roman’s family. You wanted them to approve of you- to make him happy. He wasn’t even looking at you. Even as you crossed the room, as you were introduced to his sister and his brother-in-law, his eyes stayed on that other woman. Cathrine.

“We’re so excited that Roman has finally found someone,” Medea let go of her husband’s arm, placing her hands over her bump, “Maybe our little guy will have a friend to run around with someday soon.”

You didn’t even try to make your laugh sound genuine. You just smiled, and nodded, and pretended you were totally down with that idea.

You were not totally down with that idea.

“Roman!” Benedict called out, “Come here, son. Introduce your sweet girl to dear (Y/N).”

It took you a moment to process Benedict ’s words- his phrasing was odd, and perhaps it would be a touch hurtful if you were a jealous woman.

Across the room, Roman took Cathrine’s hand, cradling it gently in his. He looked at her like she was precious to him, as if she was something he’d searched all of time and space for and finally found. He looked at her as if she was a divine and expensive creature.

If you were a jealous woman, this would have been more than a touch hurtful- it would have been a punch hurtful, perhaps. Roman never looked at you that way.

“(Y/N), dear, this is Cathrine,” those weren’t Roman’s words. He didn’t even bother to introduce you to her. His mother did, “She was a childhood friend of Roman’s.”

“They’ve always been close,” Benedict said, putting a hand on your shoulder. It was probably meant to be reassuring, but it felt like a dead weight on your back, pushing you forward into the event horizon of a black hole.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for so long,” Cathrine smiled at you, her voice was sweet as honey- with a special sort of poison lurking just beneath, “Roman’s told me so many good things.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” you tapped your fingers against your wrist in a rapid, anxious rhythm, “I’d be a little sad if he only told you bad things.”

Cathrine laughed, but the sound was fake; a cheap plastic vase in the place of a porcelain one. You knew your joke was bad, but still, the sound put you on edge. When her tiny nose wrinkled with laughter, you were almost sure she was scowling at you. As her chest rose and fell, you caught sight of her choice of jewelry- a gold chain with a dainty crucifix.

“Oh,” she hummed, “You’re so funny! That’s such a good trait. You’re so pretty, too. I’m so glad Roman picked you.”

She looked at you the way a hawk would look at its prey moments before they tore it into little tiny pieces. You thanked her quickly and cast your gaze to the floor, unable to stare down her bloodthirsty expression.

You didn’t have to avoid her gaze for long. The massive doors creaked open. The sound echoed through the room. Neatly dressed men in white shirts and black dress pants filed through, each of them carrying a tray with a single flute of champagne on it. It seemed incredibly inefficient, but you were just happy that something had distracted Cathrine from her murderous thoughts.

Benedict took his place at the head of the table, standing behind the chair that you assumed was his. The rest of the family followed suit. There was a place saved for you beside Roman. Feeling petty, you took a spot away from him- an empty seat closer to the head of the table. No one seemed to mind, and the place that would have been yours was filled by Alexander.

“My beloved family,” Benedict raised his glass, “A toast! To good company, good fortune, and a bright future.”

You watched Roman’s family toast and drink. You did the same. You had never tasted such salty champagne.

Benedict continued, “To my brother-” he turned to Roman’s uncle, but you could not make out the man’s face. You shook your head, trying to clear your head. Benedict’s voice became briefly inaudible as your vision blurred.

No one paid you any mind. Roman’s father continued, his glass still held aloft, “To my darling wife-”

You gripped onto your glass, breath coming fast as Benedict’s voice faded in and out. Black dots swam in front of you. Something was very wrong.

“My dear children. You have ensured that our family will prosper for yet another generation. First, my sweet Medea, and now Roman. You’ve brought home the perfect girl- and the perfect sacrifice.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. The world seemed to sway, spinning around as you tried to stay steady on your feet. Your stomach flipped and your throat burned as you fought the urge to vomit all over the table.

“You’ve done an excellent job, Roman,” Cecilia’s voice was immeasurably fond. Her eyes were on you.

“Did you really have to pick such a cute sacrifice, though?” Medea whined, “Now your kid is going to be cuter than mine.”

“Does the demon have a preference?”

You stumbled backwards, champagne glass slipping from your hand as you tripped away from the family. The sound of shattering glass was entirely lost on you.

“What-” your voice was weak. You could barely hear yourself over the static in your ears, “What the fuck-?”

“Relax now, dear,” Benedict put a hand on your shoulder, “You will come to understand in time.”

You jerked away from him, nearly collapsing to the floor in your haste to get away. You could see Roman approaching you, hands outstretched as if you were some feral creature he wanted to soothe.

“Darling,” he whispered. You couldn’t hear him, you could only see his lips moving.

“The drugs are in her system, Roman. You’ll have to speak up.”

Roman sighed, throwing his hands in the air as if annoyed that he’d have to expend anymore energy on calming you. You were kind of used to that gesture, actually.

“(Y/N), darling- my family has a tradition. We can’t further the family line until-”

“Until we spill the blood of an innocent and summon the ancient gods,” Cathrine spoke, stepping towards Roman and wrapping her arms around his waist. She grinned as confusion spilled across your features, and she spoke to you as if you were a small child, “Don’t you understand? You’re here because I wanted to have a child with my husband.”

Ice spilled through your veins as realization sunk in. The agony of betrayal bit at your heels like the feral dog this family imagined you to be. Anguish spread through you, burning in your throat and behind your eyes. You were hurt, you were sick, and over everything else, you were annoyed.

Because you had been right, and Eddie would never hear about it from you.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Roman took a step closer, “I wasn’t the only one in our relationship who loved someone else. I had Cathrine. You had that boy from your work. You should have stayed with him.”

Roman’s words stung like tiny razors dancing across your skin. Of course this was mostly because he was excusing his own deceit, but it was also because he was kind of right. You didn’t want to admit it. You didn’t want your killer to be right about anything- but here, in what could be your last moments, you were thinking of Eddie.

You made an attempt at retreat, but your back hit something. A cabinet.

Roman’s eyes were on you. His family’s eyes were on you. His wife’s eyes were on you. Your intuition had been right all along- you were the prey, and they were the hunters. You were never welcome here. You were never going to be welcome here. Your mind raced, eyes flitting around as you tried to find a way out. They were going to kill you. Roman’s family was going to kill you in a stupid, cliche way.

But the LeBuer family, in their infinite wisdom, had made a mistake.

They backed their prey into a cabinet filled with guns.

You let out a shuddering breath, folding in on yourself as you tried to project the image of a woman defeated. You let out a sob, a genuine sound, even though it was a distraction.

“You’re right,” your voice betrayed your terror, “For both our sakes. I should have stayed with Eddie.”

Roman didn’t have time to ask what you meant. None of them did, and you couldn’t imagine them being super curious about what you had to say, anyway. You were livestock to them. Something to stab so that they could further their family lineage, or whatever the fuck they had said. You couldn’t remember it clearly, and as you stood, the thought completely vanished from your mind.

Adrenaline flooded through your system as you threw your elbow into the glass panes of the display cabinet. You didn’t feel the glass pierce your skin, or your blood dripping over the wood. You just felt the solid reassuring presence of a weapon in your hands.

You weren’t sure if it was loaded. Even if it was, you were not confident in your ability to shoot straight given your drugged state. Therefore, when the first of Roman’s family members approached you, you decided to use the shotgun in your hands as a club.

Alex went down like a fucking chump.

You hit him in the face and he collapsed to the floor with a sharp screech. Adam was next. You ducked under his open arms and nailed him on the inside of his thigh with the butt of the gun. Just as he fell to the ground, Roman’s uncle moved in. You jumped up, hitting his chin from below and sending him stumbling into his wife.

The other members of the family began to back away. You turned the gun in your arms, aiming it at them as if you knew what you were doing. They raised their hands in surrender. You kept the weapon trained on them as you began to stumble through the room, your back to the wall as you headed for the door.

“Now, (Y/N), sweetheart,” Cecilia began, “You have to understand- this is for the greater good! Your sacrifice would give Roman and Cathrine the ultimate gift- a child! Don’t you want that for them? Don’t they deserve it? The joys of mother and fatherhood?”

“Isn’t this your place as a woman?” Adam decided to join in, “To give life? Don’t you want to fulfill your duty as a woman?”

“Don’t you love our son, (Y/N)?” Benedict asked, “Please, help him with this. No marriage is truly blessed without children.”

You almost lowered the weapon, shocked at their audacity, “It was never gonna work out. Turns out he’s married.”

You were almost there, almost out. Just another few steps, and then you could run. You didn’t know how far you would get, how long the adrenaline would last, but it had to get you somewhere, right?

You would call Eddie. You had to call Eddie.

Just as you formed a concrete plan in your mind, someone’s arms wrapped around your throat. They pulled you back, nearly throwing you to the floor before you had a chance to fight back. You scratched at their hands with your free one, managing to draw blood. The angle was awkward, but you did your best, using the gun to try and beat them away from you. They tried their best to pry the thing from your hands. You fought back. Their arm was tight against your windpipe. With their other hand, they reached down. Their finger wrapped around the trigger.

The sound of a shot made your ears ring. The arms around your throat dropped in a millisecond. You stumbled away, hand wrapping around the gun as you dared to glance behind you.

Roman’s uncle was on the ground. The space where his face had been was nothing more than a mass of blood, bits of skull, and scattered brains.

You aimed the gun at your hunters. You could faintly hear Roman’s aunt screaming, but you tuned her out. It was easy enough- your ears were still ringing.

“Are you still going to kill me?”

There was a moment of silence. Blood pooled on the marble floor near your feet. The light from the chandelier caught on the broken champagne glass you’d left on the floor. You were seeing double again.

Roman nodded. So did the second, drug fueled vision of him that only you could see.

“Fine,” you hissed, shutting your eyes against the harsh reality you were facing. When you opened them again, Roman was much closer, staring you down with a look of pure disappointment. The fucking audacity of these people. You turned the gun in your hands again, hitting him in the dead center of his face.

“Good luck with that.”

With that, you were gone, tearing out the doors and down the hallways. The mansion that Roman’s family called home was a fucking maze. Even without the drugs coursing through your system, you would’ve been lost in seconds. The only thing you could do was find a place to hide.

You let out a small laugh at the thought. Your night had, despite all improbabilities, actually turned into Ready or Not- a cursed game of hide and seek that would end with somebody dying. You would never let Eddie forget this.

That is, if you saw him again. To do that, you needed to survive long enough to call him, and get help. You could do that- you had to believe that you could do that.

You could hear voices and footsteps far down the hallway. Someone was coming. With your goal in mind, you ran. It was a struggle to avoid falling or tripping over the stupidly lavish hallway runner. There were no significant landmarks to tell you where you were going. There were no windows, no doors, and every damned wall was covered in those paintings. The portraits with sad eyes watched as you tried to make your escape. You weren’t afraid of them anymore.

After coming upon two dead ends, you finally found some way to make progress. A twisting stairway led up to another floor. You didn’t have time to weigh your options. The voices of your pursuers were only growing louder. With the shotgun in hand, you threw yourself up the stairs and bolted onto the second floor.

Immediately, you were blessed by the last rays of light that the sun had to offer as it sunk below the horizon. You didn’t have time to enjoy it. You just ran down the hallway, past windows and portraits until you finally, finally found a series of doors.

The first few you tried were locked. Sweat pooled in the palms of your hands as you heard someone running up the stairs. The ground seemed to shift beneath your feet when one of the doors finally swung open beneath your palm. Counting yourself lucky, you tucked yourself inside and gently shut the door behind you. Moments later, you heard footsteps thudding passed your hiding place.

You took in your surroundings. You were in a bedroom. Though it was beautiful, the space smelled of dust and neglect. The fine silk sheets on the bed clearly hadn’t been used in some time. A bronze crucifix hung over the bed, though it had been tilted to the side ever so slightly. The rug was expensive, but its red hue had been darkened from dust. The other furnishings had suffered a similar fate.

You took a step forward, trying to explore the room further and get away from the door. Your leg gave out beneath you. Nausea overtook your body as you struggled to stand. The world wouldn’t stop spinning. Again, your vision doubled, though this time it faded to black at the edges.

You were about to pass out.

In a desperate attempt at self preservation, you checked the door behind you. There was no way to lock it- no keyhole, no mechanism, nothing. You glanced at your surroundings again- there was a bed, an oak chest that was far too small for you to fit inside of it, a nightstand, and a door. You had no choice but to crawl to it, dragging yourself across the floor, burning your skin on the rug.

You had fully assumed that this door would lead you to a closet, but to your luck, you found a small ensuite. It was just as neglected as the bedroom- particles of dust floated through the air, coating the counter and catching in the fluffy towels that hung on the wall- but the door had the ability to lock. That was all that really mattered to you.

You slid the shotgun in first, tucking it beside the toilet before you slid yourself in, knees and thighs clinging to the cold tile. The moment you were in, you pulled the door shut behind you and locked it. A moment passed. The silence was broken only by your deep, haggard breathing. Your hands clutched at nothing as you tried to calm the erratic beat of your heart.

Though you desperately needed a second to catch your breath, time was not on your side. Your body shook almost violently on the cold bathroom floor. Your vision continued to darken, and you knew that whatever drugs were in your system would slowly drag you under if you let them. You didn’t know if you would wake up from that.

Pulling yourself over to the toilet, you made yourself vomit to the best of your ability. You did everything you could do. Still, the world swam in front of you. As you faded from consciousness, you managed to pull your phone out from your pocket. Roman’s smiling face mocked you from the screen as you unlocked the damn thing. In the final moments before the world went dark, you managed to send out one text. You hoped that Eddie left his phone on.

Y/N: sos. sos. please.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your phone clattered to the floor. Night fell as you lay there, alone and asleep on the bathroom floor. All the while, Roman’s family searched for you, becoming more agitated as they did.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the tile floor pulled you from your sleep. The bathroom was dark and cold, and you shivered as you sat up. Your skull ached. Your throat stung. Your limbs hung heavy at your sides. In other words, you felt like total fucking garbage, and in that sweet moment before you remembered what hell you were living in, you swore you were going to shatter your phone for robbing you from your peaceful sleep.

And then you remembered that you were in deep, deep shit.

You immediately began to search for your phone, pawing mindlessly through the darkness with only the occasional vibration to guide you. When your fingers wrapped around the sweet little device, you almost cried tears of joy. You unlocked it quickly, wincing at the agonizingly bright light that spilled from your screen.

Your phone was flooded with missed calls and texts, not only from Eddie, but from Steve, Robin, and Nancy. Your dear friend had raised the alarms- and you were so thankful that he did.

EDDIE: what’s up?? are you ok???

EDDIE: what’s going on???

EDDIE: (Y/N)???

EDDIE: do you need me to come get you??

EDDIE: is this a joke?? if this is a joke, it fucking sucks :(

EDDIE: you’re freaking me out, man

He called you. Of course, you hadn’t been awake to answer.

EDDIE: come onnnnn, (Y/N), pick up the phone

EDDIE: ok, im making steve call you

EDDIE: if this is a joke, he’s gonna be so mad

EDDIE: he’s gonna go full dad on you, just wait

EDDIE: and if it isn’t

EDDIE: please tell me this is a joke

There was a missed call from Steve, then a missed call from Robin. The latter had spammed your phone with texts and direct messages, sending you your name a thousand times on three different apps. Steve had sent a few frantic texts of his own. Both Steve and Robin were clearly worried by the end of it, but neither of them could top Eddie. From his texts alone, you could tell he was terrified, and that was without all the missed calls (of which there were at least 20 and at most 200. You didn’t bother to read the number correctly.)

A twinge of guilt ran through you as you kept reading.

EDDIE: ok, you aren’t answering steve or robin

EDDIE: i don’t like this

EDDIE: please tell me what’s wrong

EDDIE: please

EDDIE: if you don’t respond, i’m calling hopper

EDDIE: i swear to christ

EDDIE: (Y/N) my heart can’t take this, please pick up your phone

EDDIE: ok, that’s it, im calling hopper

That was the most recent message. You responded.

Y/N: do it and hurry

EDDIE: HOLY FUCK YOU’RE ALIVE

EDDIE: thank god

Y/N: i need you to come get me, now

Y/N: please

EDDIE: i'm on my way

EDDIE: are you okay? can you tell me what’s going on?

There was no way you could tell him- not through text, anyway. There was no way he would believe you based on words alone. You tapped his name in your contacts list and hit the little phone icon. He picked up on the first ring.

“(Y/N)? Sweetheart, what’s going on?”

His voice was distorted by static, but you could still hear every ounce of his concern. Your body warmed as tears pooled in your eyes.

“I- I don’t even know, Eds,” you cringed as your voice cracked, but Eddie didn’t miss a beat.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Just take deep breaths for me, angel. You don’t have to say anything, Just stay where you are, I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. Okay, just be careful. They-” you paused, taking a shuddering breath as you remembered the feeling of drugs coursing through your veins, of an arm around your throat and hands grasping at your body. You knew it had happened. The shotgun lying beside you and the blood spattered across your body told you that. Still, you barely believed that any of it was real.

“What did they do? If they hurt you, I swear to god-”

“I think they drugged me,” you sounded so painfully small, broken in the middle of this strange bathroom, “They drugged me, and Roman’s uncle tried to choke me, and I- they said something about sacrifice?”

“What the fuck?” Eddie sounded just as terrified as you felt, “I’m calling Hop, he’ll meet us there.”

“Call an ambulance too, please. I don’t know what they gave me, and I feel sick.”

“I will. Just hang on, sweet girl, just hang on for me.”

“Okay,” you whispered as tears finally spilled down your cheeks.

The line fell silent for a moment as your mind raced over the events of the day. With another shaky gasp, you spoke again.

“Roman is married.”

“Shit- what?”

“He’s married. He has a wife. They want to kill me.”

“Jesus H. Christ-”

He’s about to say more when you cut him off, “And Roman’s uncle shot himself in the face. He- he was trying to kill me.”

“Holy fuck- and he shot himself in front of you? God, angel, I’m- I’m so sorry.”

A small, breathy laugh escaped you, “Don’t worry. It was kind of metal.”

It was such a weird joke, but you were coping in whatever way you could. Eddie laughed cautiously over the phone, clearly concerned but allowing you to cope. The line fell silent for a few moments. You could hear him scrambling around, grabbing his keys and trying not to trip over himself. Despite the situation, you were filled with overwhelming affection for the man on the other end of the line.

“I love you, you know,” you weren’t sure he heard you. You didn’t try to speak up, “If I don’t make it out of here, I want you to know that.”

“You’re gonna make it out of there. I promise, I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I love you, too, sweet girl.”

You let out another small, terrible laugh. Tears kept spilling down your cheeks. You couldn’t hold them back anymore.

“Y’know what’s funny? I was right. I’m hiding from my boyfriend’s family members while they try to kill me- this is just like Ready or Not.”

“You’re right. You were right, and this is just like that fucking movie, and you’re gonna get to rub this in my face for the rest of our lives, just stay put, baby. I’ll be there soon, ok?”

Before you could answer, a floorboard creaked somewhere nearby. You pulled the phone away from your ear. Footsteps thudded down the hallway. A chill ran up your spine. You threw yourself away from the door as quietly as you could, seizing the shotgun with your free hand.

The bedroom door opened.

“Eddie,” you whispered, “Someone’s here. I have to go.”

“Okay,” he sounded frantic, “Okay, okay. You go, stay safe, I’ll be there soon, sweetheart. I love you.”

“I love you,” the words were barely there. You hoped to whatever force was out there that he heard you. The light of your phone dimmed down to nothing, and you were left alone in the dark and the quiet.

You slipped your phone into your pocket with the utmost caution, trying not to make even the smallest of sounds. Moving slowly, you wrapped your other hand around the shotgun, holding it in front of you like the world’s worst shield. Someone was breathing on the other side of the door. You could hear them moving around, getting closer and closer to your hiding space.

Suddenly, the bedroom fell silent.

The smell of cologne became overwhelming.

Adam knocked on the door.

“(Y/N)?” he drew out the sound of your name, his voice violating every syllable, “I know you’re in there, sweetheart.”

You remained silent, praying that he would decide that you weren’t actually in the bathroom and leave. Those prayers went unanswered. The doorknob twisted, but it didn’t give. You had locked it. Now Adam knew you were in there.

“Who were you talking to, Miss (L/N)? Was it someone special? No, it couldn’t be, you already have a boyfriend… well, had.”

Something was tapping against the door- something metal.

“But now you know the truth- or at least part of it. Roman is happily tied to the lovely Cathrine, and you’re nothing but a lamb for slaughter.”

Your knuckles were white around the shotgun. Adam went silent for a terrifying moment.

“You’re real a cute lamb, though. It’s a damn shame, if you ask me. A real waste of a body like yours.”

You tried not to gag.

“Y’know,” something dragged across the door, fabric, then metal again, “We could always figure something out. If you came with me, Roman and Cath would just have to find another sacrifice- and we could get a sacrifice of our own.”

You tried to take deep breaths.

“You look like the kinda girl that would like that- summoning a few demons, having a few kids. You’d make a cute little housewife. That’s what girls like you are made for. And I’d treat you better than my shit head brother ever did.”

You remained silent, biting your lip until it bled. The taste of iron spilled into your mouth, but even that wasn’t as vile as the man on the other side of the door.

“On second thought, I might not keep you, Miss (L/N). You’ve been too quiet. I like girls who can scream.”

You could hear the sound of a gun, cocking, loading, fucking whatever, you didn’t know how guns worked. You just knew that you had to do something, and you had to do it now.

Just before the sound of a shot could fracture the uneasy silence, you unlocked the door and threw it open, smacking Adam in the face. He collapsed to the ground in an undignified heap, the gun in his hand skittering across the floor. Without a second thought, you ran for it and kicked the thing into the hallway. When you turned back to Adam, he was still sprawled across the rug, clutching at his face. Blood gushed from his nose, dripping into his mouth and spilling across his lips and chin. You hoped the taste of it was fucking vile.

“YOU FILTHY BITCH!” Adam screamed, “You broke my fucking nose!”

“You deserved it,” you held the shotgun like a bat. You didn’t know how to shoot, but you did know how to hit something with a blunt object.

Before Adam could struggle to his feet, you hit him again, right in his bloodied nose. He shrieked in pain, scrambling back as you went to hit him again. He took his face out of range- an intelligent move, in theory. Unfortunately for Adam, this put his knees right in your line of fire.

You weren’t sure what damage you did, but by the time you’d finished, Adam was curled into himself, and you no longer felt human. You staggered away, covered in the blood of not one, but two of Roman’s family members. Your hand found purchase on the window sill. You leaned against it, desperately trying to catch your breath.

Outside, someone screamed.

You looked down, only to see some of the LeBuers gathered in the driveway. Medea was half-way inside of a car, looking up at you with horror and rage painted across her features. Immediately, half of the people with her raced back into the house. Cecilia remained outside, ushering her daughter and son-in-law into the vehicle before she, too, went back inside.

They all knew where you were now.

You were deeply, deeply fucked.

You could hear Adam laughing at you as you raced into the hallway, scooping the discarded gun into one hand and keeping the shotgun in the other. You sped down the corridor, stopping every now and then to throw open whatever doors you could find. You hoped that Roman’s family would think that you’d disappeared into another hiding place- anything to give yourself more time.

You ducked into one of the open doors just as Roman’s family spilled into the hall. They weren’t quiet in their searching- you could hear Benedict barking orders, and Cecilia’s distressed cry upon finding her beaten and bloodied son. As the hunting party panicked, you slipped into the darkness, moving backwards into an endless and ill-lit corridor that you hadn’t even noticed.

When the voices of your pursuers faded, you finally let yourself turn around. The hallway seemed to stretch on forever into infinite darkness. You could just barely see the frames of portraits that still lined the walls. The floor runner beneath you muffled the sounds of your footsteps, and you followed it diligently, staying silent until you found yet another fucking door.

You held both guns in one hand as you pulled it open. The next room contained another goddamned staircase, this one descending to the floor below. Before you could truly question the design choices of the rich and powerful, someone shoved you forward. You collapsed to the ground, losing your grip on both guns. Exhaustion filled your bones as you watched both weapons tumble down the stairs.

A well polished shoe slammed into your ribs before you could move. You didn’t have the chance to respond before your assailant kicked you again, bruising your ribs if they hadn’t already. You let out a sharp cry as you tried to sit up. Your attacker spat at you as you struggled, and when you looked up, you saw Alex’s disgusted face.

“Get up.”

You didn’t move. You just laid there with a shocked expression on your face. Alex leaned in, grabbing the front of your dress and dragging you to your knees.

“I said get up, you stupid whore.”

This time, you did as he asked, moving slowly as your shocked body tried to catch up with your equally shocked mind.

Alex didn’t appear to be armed. If anything, he looked like he hadn’t expected to find you. It was pure coincidence that he’d happened to wander down the same hallway you had. Alex was doing his best to look angry- furrowing his brow and glaring down at you- but the disgust on his face betrayed him. Locating you was nothing more than an inconvenience.

You hoped you could use that to your advantage.

“Alex, listen,” your voice was more sure than you expected it to be, “You can let me go. You can let me run off. You won’t have to get your hands dirty. You can just- you can pretend you never saw me.”

“Mm, yeah, I could,” Alex drew out every syllable he could, whining as a way of mocking you, “But this whole thing will end faster if I drag you back by that skanky little dress of yours. So-”

He pulled you to your feet, hands still tangled in the fabric of your dress. Adrenaline surged through you as he pulled you to the door. You fought him, scratching at his arm, drawing red angry lines into his pale flesh. He shrugged you off for the most part until you leaned in, seizing his neck with one hand and pulling it towards your mouth until you had the opportunity to bite.

Alex screamed as your teeth broke his skin. Blood filled your mouth, hot and metallic. You wanted to pull away, to stop biting and spit out the vile liquid, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not yet.

With your teeth still embedded in the flesh of Alex’s throat, you used your hold on his neck to drag him backwards, towards the stairs. He didn’t struggle or fight- he only screamed louder.

When he finally let you go, Alex lost his balance. You watched as he stumbled, staggering away from you as he tried to stop the bleeding. With his blood dripping from your mouth, you walked up to Alex and shoved him down the stairs.

You watched him fall, tumbling and bending in ways that human beings were not meant to tumble and bend. His screams stopped about halfway down the staircase. You shut your eyes. You just listened to the sounds of bones breaking in silence until that, too, came to a stop.

Then, the only sound was your breathing.

You felt around in the darkness for the banister of the stairs, and you clung to it as you collapsed to the floor. You sat there in the quiet, staring into nothing. For a moment, you were lost to the world as a numbing sort of panic filled your lungs.

“Holy shit.”

You knew that voice. With a gasp, you looked up. Of course, given your luck, the first thing you saw was Alex’s mangled body. His knee was twisted the wrong way, as was his left arm, and you winced at the sight of it, but your attention was quickly pulled away to the thing right next to Alex.

A pair of beat up white sneakers. Black jeans, a Metallica t-shirt, a leather jacket and violently wild hair.

“Eddie?”

The familiar boy at the bottom of the stairs didn’t say anything for a second. He just examined the body below him. At this angle, you couldn’t see his face. For a moment, you were terrified. You might’ve taken a man’s life- and that in itself was horrifying- but to add more fire to the hell you were in, you’d taken that man’s life in front of your best friend. What would he think of you now?

“Eddie?” you asked again, your voice trembling unpleasantly.

“Holy shit, sweetheart,” he finally looked up at you. His expression wasn’t disgusted or afraid- in fact, if you didn’t know better you would almost say he was impressed, “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Tears filled your eyes as relief washed over you. You were safe now. Eddie was here, and he would take you away from this place, and these people, and you wouldn’t be brutally murdered because Eddie would never let that happen to you. And on top of that, he didn’t seem to mind that you had just maimed a man.

A smile crossed your face as you called down to him, “Will do.”

He returned the grin, but it immediately slipped from his face. His eyes were no longer focused on you. In the silence that followed, you could hear Roman’s family coming down the hall.

“Run, run!”

Eddie really didn’t have to tell you twice. You sped down the staircase just as Roman’s aunt stepped into the room, a silver hunting knife clutched in her hand. Adam limped in behind her, bruised and bloodied but still well enough to hunt you down. Clearly, you hadn’t kicked his ass enough.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, you leapt over Alex’s body and into Eddie’s arms. He caught you and pushed you behind him, getting you as far from the new threat as he could. As you moved towards the exit, your foot hit something metal. You knelt quickly, seizing the guns at your feet and handing one of them to Eddie.

The moment you did, Roman’s aunt noticed her child’s crumpled form on the floor. For the second time that night, you heard a mother scream at what you’d done to her son. You couldn’t find it in you to feel any sort of guilt.

“YOU WRETCHED JUDAS!” she screamed as she stormed down the stairs, “You’ll pay! You’ll fucking pay!!”

She ran at you, knife raised, but before she got the chance to enact her vengeance, a deafening shot rang out. The shotgun was still in your hands, unused and useless. Blood soaked the woman’s shirt as she collapsed to the floor. You and Eddie watched in silence, the gun still smoking in his hands as she pulled down the steps into a bloody heap at the bottom.

“No- no!” Adam’s face was painted with his rage. His eyebrows were furrowed, cheeks red, and the look in his eyes could only be described as murderous, “You fucking wretch! I’ll make sure the last thing you hear is her screaming as I tear her apart! Do you understand that you stupid bitch? I’ll break you open and I’ll make him watch!”

You resisted the urge to vomit as you and Eddie ran out of the room, his hand slipping into yours as you fled. The beating you’d given Adam bought you more time, but you didn’t let yourself indulge in the illusion of safety. Even as Adam’s threats faded into silence, the need for escape haunted you. Your fear followed you like the eyes of the paintings on the walls.

“Do you remember the way you came in?” you asked, panting and out of breath from your run.

“I did, but I think we lost it two hallways ago- who the fuck lives like this, man?”

“Rich people.”

Eddie barked out a laugh. With his hand still in yours, he pulled you to an abrupt stop. Before you could ask what was wrong, you were in his arms again.

“Please never date a crazy rich dude with a homicidal family again. I don’t think my heart can take it.”

You laughed into his chest, wrapping yourself around him and grabbing fistfulls of his shirt in your hands.

“I don’t think mine can either. I’m barely functioning as it is, I can’t even begin to think of doing this again,” you moved your hands up to gently cup his jaw, making his eyes meet yours, “Let’s make a deal- we are never doing this again. Ever. For any reason.”

“Agreed,” his smile was damn near blinding, betraying his mock-exasperated tone, “Because all of this is just fucking crazy.”

“I know! It’s crazy and it’s cliche, and if I ever fall for another psychopathic rich man, I want you to kill me.”

He laughed, but there was a look in his eye. You couldn’t really tell if it was guilt or some other kind of remorse. Your smile fell from your lips as you remembered, unsure of how you had ever forgotten- Eddie had just killed a woman. He had done it for your sake, to save your life, but you didn’t know how that action would weigh upon his shoulders.

“Thank you,” you whispered, “For coming to get me. And I’m so sorry for- for everything else.”

Eddie shrugged, as if shooting someone hadn’t bothered him in the slightest, “Anything for my best girl. Now come on, we need to find a way out of this fuckin place. Hopper’s on his way, he’ll be here soon- not soon enough, but soon.”

You nodded, but you stood still as he began to pull away. Before he could get far, you launched yourself at him again, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“I mean it,” your voice was muffled by his body, firm and solid beneath your lips, “Thank you. And I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get us into this mess, I should’ve followed my gut, and-”

“Hey, hey,” two of his fingers slipped under your chin, tilting your head up, “Look at me, angel. Look at me.”

His eyes were soft, gentle, and indescribably comforting. You raised your hand, slipping it into his much larger one. You couldn’t help but watch as his muscles flexed, his fingers wrapping around your own.

When he spoke again, his voice was soft and quiet. For a fleeting moment, you found yourself captivated by his lips, “You don’t need to apologize. For any of this. Look, I’m a coward. I know I am. But if you’re in trouble, I need you to know that I will always come to get you. It doesn’t matter if it’s this homicidal family, another homicidal family, or some other shit.”

He paused. His hand was so cold in yours. You never wanted to let go of him.

“When it’s you, I can put the fear aside. When it’s you, I can be brave.”

The air stilled for a moment as you let his words wash over you. They warmed your skin like soft flame, and without another thought, you brought his still freezing hand to your lips. You pressed a gentle kiss across the back of his fingers, silently returning the affection he's given you. When you met his eyes again, his cheeks burned an impossible red, but he could not hide the smile that spilled across his face like wine across a fine linen.

“Now,” he cleared his throat, “We’re gonna get out of here, and Hopper’s gonna fix this shit, and I’m gonna take you home, and we’re gonna stop for soft tacos on the way, and we are never watching Ready or Not again. Sound good?”

“That sounds amazing,” you returned his grin, but before you could say anything else, you heard voices echoing through one of the endless hallways. It was time for more running, “Let’s go.”

“Good plan!” Eddie kept your hand in his as he bolted, “You’re so smart, did you know that? I always love your plans. “I think I love your plans more!” you panted, knowing that you, at the very least, were not talking about plans.

You weren’t sure how Eddie felt about you, but as the two of you threw open doors in the hopes of an exit manifesting itself, you became sure of your own feelings. Truly and completely, you were in love with Eddie Munson.

Maybe you should’ve been worried about that. Maybe you should’ve felt some heavy sense of dread that he wouldn’t return the feeling. Maybe, under normal circumstances, you would’ve felt that way. However, given the fact that this self-professed coward had broken into this place for you, shot a woman for you, and saved your life, you were pretty confident that he felt something for you.

“This way! They went this way!”

But you would never know for sure if Roman’s family managed to find you before you could ask.

You threw open every door you found as you ran, again looking for an escape while creating a million distractions. Eddie followed your lead, catching on quickly as if he was built for this exact insane situation.

Behind each door was the same kind of shit- bedrooms, closets, storage spaces holding extravagant nothings (you were pretty sure you saw the shape of a grand piano.) You could feel your hunters closing in. The hallways and corridors of the mansion seemed to close in around you and Eddie. Then, there came the final door.

It was painted red, though the colour had faded and chipped away through the years. Without a second thought, you seized the brass door knob and turned it. The door opened to reveal an empty black space. You couldn’t see the end of the room.

A frigid draft blew in through the new space raising goosebumps on your skin. The smell of rotting flesh overtook you. You shivered, trying not to retch as you looked around, desperate for another escape. Other than the red door, you had found yourself at a dead end.

“(Y/N), come on, let’s hide and find another way out.”

“There’s no time,” there really wasn’t. You could hear Adam’s enraged screaming getting louder and louder with every passing second. You wouldn’t let yourself be caught.

You grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him into the dark. As you ran further into the room, the light from the hallway shrunk down until it was nothing but a pinprick. The smell of mold and decay got stronger as you ventured further inside. Flies buzzed around just out of swatting distance. Your body trembled, struggling to get warm as the room got colder and colder. Eddie’s hand was an anchor in a sea of nothingness. You held him tighter, desperate to know that he was there.

Towards the back of the room, another light came into view, blood red like a warning. You raced towards it, Eddie’s hand in yours. The dim crimson light illuminated a set of poorly painted metal stairs. You didn’t even stop to wonder what the hell they were doing in a mansion like this. You didn’t stop to wonder where they led. The breeze on your face- though it smelled putrid as anything- felt like freedom. You moved down the stairs faster than was safe. Eddie followed behind you hesitantly, though he didn’t slow you down.

You seemed to descend for an eternity, moving down until the light faded and you were in the dark again. When you finally met solid ground again, you surged forward, running in an animalistic panic through what you had to assume was a basement. You kept telling yourself that you would be safe, that you were almost out the door.

Then, the floor fell out from beneath you. The shotgun slipped from your hands, landing somewhere deep below with a dull thud. A scream tore itself from your lips, echoing back up the stairwell and giving away your location instantly.

Eddie pulled you back to solid ground and turned you, keeping your face tucked into this chest. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you secure in his embrace. He was muttering something, but you couldn’t hear him over the rush of blood in your ears. Your fingers gripped his shirt so tightly that it made your knuckles sore. Your ribs ached as your breath came to you in harsh pants.

You turned to look at where you had fallen.

All too late, Eddie’s voice finally became clear, “Don’t look at it, (Y/N). Don’t look, you don’t need to look.”

You had nearly fallen into a pit. It was deep. Wide. And the bottom was absolutely lined with corpses.

You could see bones sticking up through tattered old finery. Flesh still clung to fingers, decorated with once gleaming rings. Eyeless sockets stared up at you through matted, fetid, rotting clumps of hair and scalp.

You were looking down at centuries of sacrifices, first and second and third wives of the LeBuer family, victims of a ritual that you could not hope to understand.

If it weren’t for Eddie’s hold on you, you would have collapsed.

“I see you’ve found your future tomb.”

You whirled around. As your eyes adjusted to the low light, you could see Adam standing on the stairs. Alex limped down behind him, his mouth drawn up in a pained grimace. Eddie pushed you behind him, trying to protect you from this new, hellish encounter.

“You won’t touch her,” he growled, “Not while I’m here.”

“Oh, shut up, guttersnipe. This isn’t about you. This could never be about you. All we want is the girl,” Alex hissed, though you couldn’t tell which was stronger in his voice- hatred or agony.

“Look, trailer trash, we’ll even make you a deal for her,” as Adam spoke, you wrapped your hands around Eddie’s wrists, trying to provide some form of comfort. You weren’t sure if it worked, or if it just made you look like a damsel in distress, but at least you tried.

“We’ll set you up for a few years, and in exchange,” Adam continued, “You give us the girl. And you keep quiet about this, of course. The LeBuer name has a reputation. If any of this were to get out-”

“Any of what? The demon sacrifice? The murder of innocents for your own selfish needs?”

“And how would you know about any of that you fucking heathen?”

Eddie shrugged, “Just trust me on this one, man. I know.”

“Look at him, Adam,” Alex wheezed, “He would know demons. He fucking looks like one.”

Adam scoffed, shaking his head at Alex’s attempt at a joke… or was it an insult? You were too tired and terrified to give a shit.

“Okay boys, fun’s over, I’m afraid I’m not up for exchange this fine evening. Now if you’ll excuse us, I think it’s time to leave. Thank your parents for hosting, Adam, it’s been wonderful-”

The deafening sound of a gunshot cut you off.

You screamed, reaching up at your ears to protect them from the noise. Eddie had the same idea, and Alex and Adam ducked right to the ground, lying on their bellies as you all looked up to see who had shot.

Roman stood on the stairs, his back just bathed in the faintest crimson light. In his hands he held another fucking gun. Honestly, by that point you were so fucking tired you almost hoped he’d just shoot you with it.

Clearly, God, Roman, and also Eddie, had other plans.

Eddie tucked you behind him, making it absolutely fucking clear to everyone in the room that if they wanted to hurt you, they would have to go through him first- and oh, how your heart sunk as you realized you were something Eddie wanted to protect. In that moment, you knew you were precious to him. Maybe you were something he’d searched all of time and space for and finally found. You wanted to fucking scream again, but your throat was really starting to hurt.

Roman just sighed. As he made his way down the stairs, his pace was leisurely and completely self assured. He didn’t even aim the gun at you or Eddie- he barely even spared you a glance.

“My good gentleman, I assure you, this isn’t how we wanted this night to go.”

“Don’t even start with that bullshit, man. Don’t fucking gentleman me. Maybe you didn’t want to spend the night in your corpse dungeon, but I’m perfectly happy to be here,” Eddie’s voice had a harsh edge to it, one that made you want to cling onto him and never let go. If you were too tired to fight this battle- which at this point in the night, you had every right to be- you knew he would handle this thing for you. For the both of you.

“Are you? You’re happy to defend an empty vessel? Happy to stand on the edge of a pit filled with the lowest form of decay? Well, I guess it’s an upgrade from whatever hovel you crawled out of.”

Nevermind. Fuck lying dormant while Eddie protected you. You were going to protect him, too.

“Oh, would you fuck off, Roman,” you barked, woken up from your angst-filled exhaustion, “How long have you been bottling up the classist insults? Just through our relationship? Or did you hide even before that? Come on, then. If you’re hurling insults at people who don’t spend stupid amounts on whatever pathetic bullshit you call “luxury,” you should probably spare one for me. We were partners, after all.”

Eddie’s eyes were filled with pride and fear in equal measure- he looked like he wanted to kiss you and shove you back behind him for your own safety. Roman, on the other hand, had the audacity to look hurt.

“Were?”

It was your turn to scoff, “You were planning to sacrifice me to the devil for your own sake- and for the sake of your secret wife. You expect me to serve you, to die so you can have a kid. You used me, Roman, and I’m sick of your shit. We’re fucking done.”

He stood still on for a moment, his eyes darting between you and Eddie from his place on the stairs.

“I was right,” he finally mumbled, “It’s you and him.”

In the silence that followed, Eddie’s hand found its way back into yours. Your thumb traced over his knuckles, over every ridge and vein his hand had to offer. He squeezed his fingers around yours in return, pulling you close to him with no intention of letting go.

“Very well, then,” Roman pointed the gun at Eddie’s chest, “You’ll both die screaming.”

You knocked Eddie to the ground as Roman fired a shot. The overwhelming sound of gunfire echoed off the walls, making everyone in the room wince and cover their ears. It gave you an opening.

With Eddie’s hand in yours, you bolted towards the stairs. Alex recovered from the sound first. He jumped towards you. Eddie let go of you for a moment, just so he could fight off your assailant. As his punches landed, Alex staggered back. He made weak attempts to return Eddie’s blows, but he was no match for the metalhead. For the second time that night, Alex went down like a bitch. He rolled across the floor, coughing and swearing until he fell off the edge of the floor.

The third time Alex went down that night, he went all the way down to the corpse pit.

You froze, listening to Alex’s scream as he plunged out of sight. A dull thud echoed through the room as he landed. Bones crunched beneath him, rotten flesh squelching as Alex slipped through old blood and viscera. You could barely hear him screaming over the buzz of disrupted flies. The smell of rancid meat rose into the air. Bile rose in your throat as the screaming turned to desperate retching. Eddie stood still, gazing into the pit with an expression you couldn’t name.

Before you could reach out to him, an arm wrapped around your throat. You let out a yelp as someone pulled you into the firm plane of their chest. Your heart fell through your chest as you clawed and scratched at your attacker. You couldn’t afford to show them mercy. You bit and tore at them, drawing blood and shrieking like a feral animal as their other arm curled around your waist. Through your adrenaline fueled haze, you were absolutely sure that it was Roman’s voice calling you a bitch.

Eddie raced to help you, moving faster than you thought a person could go. Adam interfered, advancing on Eddie viciously. Unlike Alex, Adam was adept at fighting and capable of heinous violence. The two men exchanged blows with equal force and brutality, landing hits until Eddie’s nose was bloodied and the side of Adam’s face was painted purple.

In the interim, you didn’t stop fighting. As Eddie and Alex beat the shit out of each other, Roman tried to pull you towards the stairs. In retaliation, you took a sizable chunk out of his arm with your teeth. You gagged as you spat out his flesh- the sensation of hot, metallic blood spilling past your lips was almost too much to bear. Roman growled, and you could feel his hand tangle itself in the roots of your hair, pulling you away from his new wound.

“I’ll credit you with this, my darling,” Roman grunted, pulling you backwards as you spat out his blood, “You’ve put up a good fight. But you have to know, this can only end one way.”

Beside the body pit, Adam had finally managed to pin Eddie to the ground. You watched as the bastard gripped Eddie’s jaw and turned his head to face you. Eddie looked absolutely devastated. Panic swirled in his warm brown eyes as he kept trying to free himself. No matter how hard he tried, he was still forced to look at you as Roman wrapped a hand around your throat and started to squeeze.

As your vision began to swim, Adam leaned down, pressing his lips to Eddie’s ear. You clawed at Roman’s arm like an animal. Your nails tore at his already open wound, but he held you fast, placing another hand just below your navel to keep you still.

“I get what you see in her, pretty boy,” you could hear Adam’s words, muffled slightly by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears, “She’s hot when she struggles.”

Beneath his assailant, Eddie growled, digging his nails into any flesh he could reach. Adam barely winced.

“It’s a shame you won’t leave this room- I mean, the things we’re gonna do to her once we get upstairs. It would be a wet dream for a freak like you.”

Tears spilled from your eyes as the threat set in. Fear burrowed itself inside of you, eating away at your flesh as flies fed on the bodies below. Across the room, Eddie grit his teeth, his eyes flashing with rage. You didn’t see him land his next hit. You didn’t see him claw at Adam’s face. You didn’t see anything- it was all too fast. All you knew was that one moment, Adam was smirking down at Eddie, and the next his face was covered in blood. Adam shrieked, his hands hovering over his face as crimson gushed from four deep, perfect wounds embedded in his flesh.

In his panic, Adam made a terrible mistake. He let Eddie go. Without a second of hesitation, Eddie tackled his assailant. He wrapped his pale, slender hand around Adam’s throat and squeezed. You watched Eddie’s knuckles turn white, his veins standing out against his skin. Beneath him, Adam gasped for air, thrashing desperately in an attempt to escape. You could hear him choking on his own blood as it poured down his face.

You heard something snap. A smile snuck its way onto your face.

Adam was still gasping, though the sound was almost nothing now. Static filled your ears. Roman screamed, a sound of deep rage, right in your ears. Eddie looked up at you, his eyes wide. A thick strand of scarlet something dripped from between Eddie’s lips.

And then he was gone.

You watched as Eddie fell back into the pit, dragging Adam with him. Someone was screaming- you. You were screaming. You couldn’t feel the strain in your throat. You could barely hear the sound. You hadn’t heard the gun go off, even though Roman had shot it inches away from your skull. You couldn’t feel Roman pulling you back. You couldn’t feel the stairs hitting the backs of your legs as he dragged you back up into the house.

All you could see was the dark void that Eddie had fallen into. All you knew was that dark void. There was nothing else. Tears ran down your cheeks. Eddie was gone. Broken sobs left your body as you collapsed into Roman’s arms- into the arms of the man that had destroyed your world in seconds. You were nothing but a wounded animal, now. Hunted, maimed, and brought forth for slaughter. You took some bitter joy in that thought. You knew you would see Eddie soon enough.

The hallways of the LeBuer mansion blurred into nothing. The portraits on the walls had the decency to look bereaved, but every little Jesus on every little cross you passed seemed to laugh at you. All the fight had been drained from you like blood from a cadaver. You said nothing as Roman pulled you back into the dining room. You didn’t flinch at his family’s carnivorous smiles. You didn’t make a sound when Roman let you drop to the floor.

Bruises began to form on your arms and shoulders but you didn’t feel the pain. Someone took your phone, not that it mattered. You let the family place you on their table. You let Roman tie you down. You let Cathrine tear open your dress. Even the chill of the room on your exposed flesh didn’t bother you. You just laid there, still as death, while Benedict approached with a large, intricate blade. He handed it off to his son.

“Roman, dearest, did you drug her?” Cecilia asked, “She hasn’t moved an inch. Usually they squirm so much…”

“Don’t worry, mother. As far as it concerns us, she’s already dead.”

“That’ll make the next few steps a lot easier. Perhaps she’ll bleed less,” Cathrine put a hand to your cheek, gently brushing the smooth pads of her fingers over your flesh. Her face was the only thing you could see, the only thing you had to focus on as the knife finally dug deep into your skin.

You refused to scream. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Your tears, however, spilled from your eyes without your consent. Cathrine’s smile grew wider as her family tortured you, as you were penetrated again and again with the blade. You couldn’t see what they were doing. You didn’t know when they would finally end your suffering. Your world was made up of her cruel eyes and nothing else.

Your blood burned as it dripped over your sides, pooling beneath you until you could feel it between the table and the flesh of your back. You could hear drops of it falling to the marble floor. The sound was enough to drive you crazy- that is, if the pain didn’t do it first.

The blade ripped through your skin, diving deep into you with such brutality that your body shook from the force. You could feel yourself choking on blood. The world was turning gray, tunneling into a mess of static. The grunts of effort from Roman’s family were muted by the panicked sound of your own breathing. You were going to die here. You were going to die here, and Cathrine would be the last thing you would see. You didn’t try to fight it.

In a weird way, it was almost like sex- the blade thrusting in and out of your body, making you bleed, making you hurt. It was a violent intrusion. A man imposing his will on you to serve his own desires.

You didn’t have it in you to fight, but you did want to throw up really badly.

When she finally pulled back, you had just enough strength to look up and see what they’d done to you. You’d been stabbed. Just stabbed, a thousand times without a hint of grace or tact. You could see yourself bleeding out, blood pulsing to the surface with every weak beat of your heart. The sight made you sick. There was something viscerally wrong about your mutilated body lying before you.

You let out a soft cry as Roman put his hand low on your abdomen. It was a pitiful sound, the only thing you could make as your heart struggled to keep you alive.

“Thank you. For your sacrifice,” he pressed down, a final act of cruelty.

Cathrine wrapped her arms around him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “It’s what any woman would do.”

“My family,” Benedict began. Though his voice sounded miles away, you could still hear the jovial tone in his words, “Let us begin the prayer.”

You watched as Roman took Cathrine’s hand in his- specifically, his hand that wasn’t stained in your blood. She grabbed the golden crucifix around her throat and held it with a look of pride and hope.

“Our father,” you couldn’t tell who was speaking anymore. You just knew that they sounded happy.

“Forgive us this trespass and send us a servant of the one below.”

The lights flickered. You almost wanted to laugh. This was some cheesy fuckin shit. The air took on a sudden chill, not that you could feel it. Your blood provided you with a scorching heat as it spilled from your veins.

“A servant of your fallen son, to bless this fallen daughter.”

The lights flickered again. You could hear something loud above the voices. Something crashing, loud like thunder but not as natural.

“To bestow upon our family the ultimate gift- a child-” their voices cut out, “And your name.”

You were pretty sure one of the ten commandments was not to murder anyone- but you knew you weren’t a person to them. Thou shalt not kill didn’t apply to slaughtered lambs. Why would it apply to you?

“Accept this most humble offering, this lamb to slaughter, this child of Abraham.”

You heard a door open.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. Or whatever. Amen.”

That voice- that voice was new. Roman’s family stopped their prayer. You could hear someone gasp. They sounded terrified. You wondered, briefly, what they would have to fear.

“You- you can’t be here. You’re dead.”

“Huh. Thanks for filling me in, I wouldn’t have noticed otherwise.”

“I shot you-”

“I’m aware.”

“Roman, who is this boy?” Was that Cecilia or Cathrine? For the life of you- something that was quickly coming to an end- you could not fucking tell.

“You asked for a demon,” you heard a pause. Footsteps. Something fell to the floor with a crash, “You got one.”

“No- you’re not, you can’t be-”

“Roman, darling-” was it concerning that you still couldn’t tell if that was your ex’s wife or his mom? It didn’t matter. The next thing you heard was Roman, enraged. You were sure of that. You heard it enough times.

“ENOUGH- I’m going to end this! I’m going to end-”

A shot rang out. There was another pause. Something small and metal clattered to the floor. Silence followed.

The lights went out.

Bathed in darkness, the voice of the new guest suddenly became clear, and when he spoke a fresh round of tears fell from your eyes. You were dead now. You were sure of it. The afterlife was fucking weird, but you were certain.

“Hey there, angel. You’re gonna be okay. I’ve got you. Just tell me what to do.”

You drew in a shaky breath, your chest rattling, aching with the effort. The cold air hurt your lungs. You felt like you were burning from the inside out.

“Help me, Eddie.”

In an instant, his presence was gone. The room was still dark. When Eddie spoke again, his voice came from the doorway again.

“You’re going to get away from her now,” his voice was low, his words a warning, “This is your only warning.”

Footsteps echoed through the room. Someone was running. There was a grunt, a sound like someone exerting effort, throwing a punch.

There followed an awful, fleshy, tearing sound. Roman’s screams of agony met your ears, just as the snap of breaking bones jolted you back to some level of reality. There was another shout, a scream of paternal rage. More footsteps- and again, the sound of flesh being torn from bone. You couldn’t find it within yourself to feel bad about that. In fact, you almost laughed.

The next cry that rang out was definitely Cecilia’s. The noise she made was cut short, overtaken by cracking sounds of a shattering rib cage. Someone choked on their own blood, gagging and sputtering their way to a brutal death. You couldn’t really feel bad about that, either.

Roman was still screaming. You could hear Cathrine’s voice, demanding Roman’s freedom. It didn’t help much. The next thing you heard was Roman’s pained gasps for air.

Eddie’s voice rang out again, a source of comfort amid all the auditory gore.

“Let me get this straight. You two shit stains wanted a child so badly that you were willing to torture an innocent woman to get one? You were willing to brutalize her for your own sake?”

“It’s tradition! Roman’s family is cursed- they must have a sacrifice in the name of God! A holy baptism of blood! A new mass! The killing of one womb so that they may conceive in another-”

“God doesn’t give a shit about your family’s tradition of torture porn,” Eddie’s voice was strange, caught between a growl, a laugh, and a sob, “I’m half convinced he doesn't give a shit about anything. He doesn’t see you, Cathrine. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t bless you, he doesn’t bless this fucked up family, and he doesn’t bless your husband.”

You heard a weak wheeze before Roman spoke, “She- she gave her consent. I had her, she whored herself out to me. That means-”

“THAT DOESN’T MEAN SHIT,” Eddie had been enraged the entire time he’d been speaking, but this was something new. From your place on the dining table/alter, you could see a red light flickering off the ceiling.

“Consent to sex is not consent to ritual sacrifice, you stupid fuck.”

You were pretty sure the black mass that flew across your vision was Roman. You weren’t sure how Eddie managed that one, but you sure as shit weren’t complaining. A deafening crash came from one of the cabinets. Glass shattered on impact. You laughed- the sound was wet and broken, and the laugh itself was painful, but the sound still escaped. You hoped that whatever had happened to Roman had fucking hurt.

“Roman!” Cathrine’s scream all but confirmed your theory. You heard her footsteps as she tried to get to her husband, but something stopped her.

“And you. Well, you’re just a fucking disappointment. Tell me, kid, what makes you think you’re any different? What makes you think you’ll be spared from him? From his wrath? From his family? There’s a pit in the basement full of bodies, full of people this family has sacrificed for their own gain. What makes you think you won’t join them?”

“He- he loves me. Roman loves me.”

“He told (Y/N) the same thing. Look what he did to her. Look what you did to her.”

“She- she would have done the same thing! She would have killed me!”

“No. Not like this. I, on the other hand-”

Eddie didn’t finish that sentence. You just heard the squelch of skin splitting, the sound of something wet falling to the floor, and a half scream from the woman who watched as the light in your eyes faded to nothing. Like that, she was gone. You couldn’t help the smile that slipped across your face. You shut your eyes.

“(Y/N)- (Y/N), come on, keep your eyes open.”

You did. Eddie was above you, haloed in red light- and something was different. His eyes were dark, pupils blown. It almost looked like the dark overtook the whites of his eyes. His skin was pale, ashen, far more so than it normally was. You reached towards him and when he moved to take your hands you noticed them. Massive leathery wings stretched out behind your boy. You had to be dead already. Or at least close to it.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his hand squeezing yours, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never wanted you to get hurt, I never wanted you to see me like this-”

“You…” your voice was weak. Your blood stained your lips and teeth, “You’re pretty.”

He let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. It broke your heart, a little bit. You wanted to pull him close to you and never let him go, but it hurt to move. You just wanted to close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

“No, no, no, come on. Stay with me, angel, stay awake.”

You could only hum in response.

“I- I’m going to have to touch you. Is that okay?”

You wanted to tell him that he could touch you however he wanted to. He could do whatever he wanted, he could finish what the LeBuers had started and cut you to bits and you would let him. Whatever was left of you was his. You loved him, and you wanted him to know that. All you could do was lie there and nod.

Apologies spilled from his lips as he let go of your hand and placed his own over your wounds. His touch was feather light. It should have hurt. By all logic, it should have hurt, but you didn’t feel any pain. You could feel something sharp against your flesh, but whatever it was, it didn’t cut into you. It just scratched sweetly across your skin as his fingers traced over your stomach and your ribs.

Eddie brushed over you slowly, gently, in a way that filled you with want. You could feel his hands start to tremble as they moved lower and lower. Warmth seeped into your body wherever he touched you. Slowly, the agony you felt- the sharp sting of your torn flesh, the bruised ribs, all of it- it just faded away.

You opened your eyes and slipped your hand into Eddie’s. Your fingers tangled with his over your stomach. Where you expected to feel blood, you only felt your own skin- and something sharp, attached to Eddie’s hands. Claws. Neat.

Your strength was coming back slowly, inch by inch, but you could feel it- you could feel life return to every vein and nerve you had.

“Whatever you’re doing,” you whispered, “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

A smile broke out across his face, “I won’t. I promise, I promise I won’t.”

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead and giving you a good view of those things behind him- wings. Actual fucking wings. They were beautiful, terrifying, and they were half wrapped around you, keeping you close to Eddie. You loved them, instantly, but good lord were you confused.

“Am I dead?” your voice was still quiet, still fragile despite your growing strength.

“No, sweetheart. I couldn’t let that happen to you. I couldn’t let them take you from me.”

“So this…” your eyes searched his face, “All of this is real. I’m not dead or dreaming?”

“You’re not. You’re awake, and alive, and in a few minutes we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

“Oh,” you nodded, “That’s nice. Are you going to fly me out of here?”

He paused, seeming surprised, as if he had forgotten about the massive wings behind him. A deep blush overtook his face, painting him red from his jaw to his ears.

“Yeah, about that,” he winced, “I know this is a terrible time to tell you, and I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but I’m not really a person. Or at least, I’m not anymore. I’m so sorry that-” You cut him off before he could say anything else.

“They’re perfect. You’re perfect. It’s all very metal.”

He laughed at your words, ignoring the tears that spilled over his cheeks. Without a word, you reached for him, trying to maneuver yourself into a sitting position as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He leaned down, meeting you halfway, and burying his face in the bare skin of your shoulder. His messy curls stuck to your skin. His strong arms curved around your back, his fingers digging into you as if he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

“Just hold me for a second, please,” you whispered, running your fingers up and into his hair, “Don’t let me go.”

“Never,” he gasped, his voice trembling terribly, “I almost lost you. You’re not leaving my sight ever again.”

“Good,” your voice broke, your eyes burning as tears of your own began to fall, “Don’t let me go. Don’t ever let me go.”

“I won’t. I promise. I’ve got you.”

Eddie pulled away first. You made a small sound of protest, but he wasn’t gone long. He didn’t even take his hands off of you. He just took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

When you looked down at your body, at his clothes covering you, you couldn’t help but notice that you had been healed of every single stab wound and every single bruise. There wasn’t even a scar left behind.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.”

“I mean it, Eds. I would have died if you hadn’t come to get me, I-” you paused, watching as Eddie anxiously bit his lip. Heat pooled in your stomach like the births and deaths of a thousand stars. You couldn’t tear your eyes away. You really wanted to kiss him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you moved closer, your lips barely an inch away from his.

His eyes went wide. His grip on you tightened. You could feel his breath catch, feel the way he tensed up in anticipation. Everything about him betrayed how badly he wanted you.

“Shit, I-” he took a shuddering breath, his fingers kneading a pattern into your skin, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

“Good,” you leaned in, but he stopped you, placing a hand on your shoulder to put some space between you. You paused, tilting your head as his fingers ran down to your hip.

“Wait,” his voice was so quiet, “Just wait. I don’t want to- I don’t want to take advantage, y’know? You just went through something terrifying, and I-”

“You don’t want to hurt me,” you reached up to cradle Eddie’s jaw in your hands, letting your thumbs stroke across his skin, “You’re still protecting me. You’ve been doing that all night, y’know. You should let yourself take a break.”

Eddie tried not to grin and failed. His grip tightened on you as you pulled him closer, your chest pressing against his as you sat up properly.

“Hey, I have a demon question for ya,” you pulled one hand away from his face, tracing lines up and down his arm. You followed the thick ridges of his veins, a deep blue against his pale skin. You hid your grin as he inhaled sharply. His fingers would definitely leave bruises on your hip, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind.

“Demons usually offer their aid in exchange for something, right?”

“Where are you going with this?”

“Just answer the question, Munson,” you looked up at him through half-lidded eyes, and you watched him melt in front of you.

“Yes, we usually take souls and shit, but I couldn’t ask you for that. I couldn’t, I-”

“Could you take something else?”

He let out a half gasp, “Wh- what?”

“Could you. Take. Something else?” you met his gaze dead on, “A firstborn, maybe?”

“Oh, sweet girl, you are trying to kill me.”

You giggled- actually fucking giggled- and leaned into his chest. Maybe you were trying to kill him, just a little bit. Maybe you wanted something else.

Just as you opened your mouth to speak, something across the room broke. Beneath the collapsed gun cabinet, something was moving.

“Shit,” Eddie whispered, “Get behind me.”

Without another word, he let you go and moved to stand in front of you. His wings spread wide, blocking you from sight as someone began to rise from the rubble.

“I’ll kill you,” Roman’s voice was weak, “I’LL KILL BOTH OF YOU!”

“Don’t you people ever die?” Eddie asked, exasperated as his body tensed, preparing for a fight.

You stepped to the side ever so slightly, getting a glimpse of Roman that you very much could have lived without. There he was, your ex boyfriend, his face painted red with his own blood. His shirt was torn revealing bruised and broken skin beneath.

He looked like a monster. And he looked like he wanted to kill Eddie.

For whatever reason, your gaze turned to the side. You winced as your eyes fell upon Cecilia’s body, lying across the room in a pool of crimson. Eddie had destroyed her. He’d destroyed all of them. It was a gorey sight, but you had a hard time finding sympathy for a woman who watched as you were held down and tortured. If Roman wasn’t being a little shit, you might have grinned.

Beside her, in a puddle of viscera that you could only assume was once Benedict , was the elaborately decorated knife that almost brought about your end.

“You haven’t even seen the worst that I could do to her,” Roman growled, “You love her, don’t you, demon? Then it’ll hurt you even more when I flay her alive.”

“You won’t live long enough to get the chance.”

“Won’t I? I’ve lived this long! You killed everyone else, but I’m still here! I-I have been chosen! By you- by God!”

You slipped under the table, dashing across the room to grab the knife.

“Man, I genuinely thought you were dead until right now. Your survival was a mistake.”

“There are no mistakes, demon. I was meant to be here. I was meant to survive! To carry on the LeBuer line! And I think I’ll use that pet of yours to do it.”

Eddie made a deep, inhuman sound at the back of his throat. From your space across the room, you watched as he lunged at Roman, teeth and claws bared. He was ready to attack, and so enraged that he didn’t see the grin that spread across the LeBuer boy’s face.

When Eddie flew across the room, Roman dove out of the way, bending down and seizing a wayward piece of glass. He leapt at Eddie, shoving him into the wall and bringing his forged weapon to his chest. Roman’s hand bled where it clenched around the sharp object, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’d kill you now, demon, but it would be much more fun to make you watch,” he pressed the glass into Eddie’s shirt. Honestly, it didn’t do much. Eddie pulled back, his neck tensed. He looked absolutely murderous. Realizing his mistake, Roman dropped the blade and wrapped his undamaged hand around Eddie’s throat. It took everything you had to keep from screaming- and you couldn’t scream- for the sake of stealth.

The two men were so focused on each other that they didn’t notice you coming. They didn’t notice you leveling the knife at Roman’s back.

“Roman,” you called his attention to you. Roman turned, and from the look in his eyes alone, you knew that given half the chance, he would make good on every threat he’d made.

You took a deep breath and drove the knife straight through Roman’s chest. You didn’t stop until you had run him through. Roman let out an agonized screech as he stared down at the blade protruding through his body. You winced as he collapsed, his weight pulling the blade from your hands. As he spit blood at your feet, you whispered, “We’re. Fucking. Done.”

A moment passed, silent and still. Your hands shook slightly. Taking another deep breath, you looked up at Eddie. His big dark eyes were already on you. Without another thought, you leapt over Roman’s body, running into Eddie’s arms. You fell into him, and he caught you like he was made to do just that.

He held you close, his grip strong and reassuring. You buried your face in his chest for a moment, your hands gripping onto him hard enough to bruise. You could feel his wings wrap around you again, locking you in a soft and safe dimension of your own. Eddie whispered something to you, several somethings, but you couldn’t quite hear him. You could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest, but you couldn’t register anything. It was all just static.

You looked up at him, eyes wide. His soft lips were moving, speaking, and the motion was hypnotic.

“Can I kiss you now?”

He paused, lips parted slightly and eyes wide. You spread your fingers across his chest, brushing your thumb across his collar bone.

“I saved you. You saved me,” you leaned closer, “We’re even now, right? So we can kiss each other without feeling bad about it?”

He stared at your lips. His eyebrows furrowed together slightly, creating the picture of a conflicted man. You could feel his heart racing in his chest, just beneath your fingertips.

“Eddie?”

“Fuck it.”

Eddie’s lips were on yours before you could make another sound. His hands were on your face in an instant, cradling your jaw with such a sweet intensity that you almost melted into him, then and there. Your hands came up to grip his arms, and you followed them up the shape of his body until your fingers wrapped around his shoulders. Without another thought, you pulled him closer.

He let out the sweetest sounds as you parted his lips with your tongue. You wrapped one of your legs around his, desperate to feel his touch everywhere you could. He lowered a hand to your waist, nearly clawing your side in his desperation to hold you. Need turned the both of you into animals just a few shades from feral.

“We’re even,” he spoke against your lips, breathless and panting, “We are so, so even, angel. Fuck-”

“Haha, I get it now. You’re a demon, and I’m-” you cut yourself off, whining into Eddie’s mouth as he bit down on your lip just hard enough to make your flesh sting.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered as pressed kisses to your jaw, “You’re my angel. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Eds, I’m- I’m perfect… When's Hopper gonna get here?”

He paused, tilting his head, “Not for a while… why?”

“Because I have plans for us, pretty boy.”

A wicked grin crossed Eddie’s lips as he dove back into you.

Eddie may have seen you as angelic, but the thoughts running through your head were anything but holy. Your blood seemed to burn wherever he touched you. Sparks flew with every touch he left on your skin. You were seconds away from catching fire, from burning brighter than any star the sky had to offer. You let out a soft moan as Eddie’s lips trailed down your throat.

“I need you,” you panted, “I need you, Eddie, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweet girl, whatever you-”

You cut him off by leaning forward and wrapping your lips and teeth around his shoulder. You bit down, marking him up without drawing blood. The moan that slipped from him was far too pretty for you to handle. Your hips moved against his thigh, grinding against him desperately. You were very much aware that you were acting like a pathetic slut, but you didn’t really care. You needed him- and judging by the hard length pressed against you, he needed you just as much.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck, pulling him blindly towards the altar/table in the center of the room. He followed eagerly. You both stumbled, nearly falling to the ground since you both refused to break the kiss.

Your back hit the altar with a harsh thud. You let out a soft whine, jumping up to sit on the flat surface just as Eddie pulled away.

“Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt-”

“I’m fine,” you reached behind you and unhooked your bra, exposing your breasts to the cold air of the sacrifice room, “Can you do me a favor and tear off what’s left of my dress?”

Eddie didn’t move. He didn’t say anything, either. He kind of just froze for a second. When you looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes were completely glued to your chest. A sweet blush graced his cheeks, and you couldn’t help but grin.

The fact that he wanted you, that he couldn’t look away from you set off another set of sparks deep inside your body. Absolute want pooled at your core as galaxies formed in his eyes. You were his universe. You could see it.

“You okay there, Munson?”

“You’re so fucking pretty.”

You let out a laugh before reaching out and pulling him close. Once you had him between your thighs, you wrapped your legs around his hips.

“Thank you, Eds. Now are you gonna help me with my dress, or am I going to have to take it off myself?”

You tilted your head to the side, unable to wipe the smile from your face as Eddie continued to devour you with his eyes. His hands came up to your sides, trembling slightly as he took you into his hands. Something dark and dominant flashed in his eyes. His grip tightened.

“You’re gonna have to wait a second,” his voice was low, almost inhuman, and fucking delicious to your ears. You laughed again as he buried his face in your chest, kissing and biting your skin, leaving purple marks behind. Your laughter quickly gave way to breathy moans and desperate pleas as Eddie’s lips moved across your exposed flesh. Your hands found their way into his hair, tangling at the roots and giving them a slight tug. He growled against you, biting down hard and marking you with the shape of his teeth.

“God, I want you to do terrible things to me.”

“You’re-” he cut himself off with a kiss, “Adorable.”

“I’m serious! I almost died today- we both did. I’ve come face to face with my own mortality, and I realized that life is too short. If I don’t ask you to rail me now, who knows if I’ll get another chance? In other words, please fuck my brains out before we get hit by a meteor or something.”

He laughed. You could feel the vibrations in every place his skin met yours. You kind of wanted to scream.

“We’re not gonna get hit by a meteor.”

“You don’t know that!” you sat up, pulling his face from your chest and holding his jaw in one hand, “We could get meteored any second, so I need you to know that I love you.”

His soft brown eyes bore into your soul for a moment, and honestly, you wouldn’t have cared that much if a meteor did smite you at that particular moment. You had Eddie. You had everything you needed.

“I love you, too,” he pushed you back and finally, finally set his claws on your dress. He tore it off slowly, making you ache with anticipation. You could feel the sharp, pleasant scratch of his nails against your skin again, slipping beneath the waist of your underwear. You really wouldn’t complain if he just ripped you open, but you knew he wouldn’t. Not unless you asked nicely.

“By the way,” he leaned up to kiss you, “I wouldn’t let you get hit by a meteor.”

“Is that something you could prevent?” you tried to come off as confident, but your voice snapped into a million pieces as he pulled your panties down your thighs.

“I’d do my best,” he shrugged, tossing your underwear to the side for the moment.

“That’s comforting.”

“You’re the one that came up with the meteor thing,” he gripped your thighs, claws just biting at your flesh as his fingers flexed, “You know I’ll always protect you.”

He would. He had. He’d proved that much to you. He leaned in slowly, kissing your lips again before moving down to your throat, tracing the pattern of purple bruises and bite marks that he’d already left. You squirmed in his hold, hips thrashing slightly. You could feel yourself dripping. Arousal gathered between your thighs as he eased his way down your body.

Eddie’s arms hooked themselves around your thighs, hands spreading on your hips- he was holding you in place. After pressing another kiss to your skin just below your navel, Eddie paused. When he looked up at you, you could feel the space of the universe fill your lungs. When his eyes met yours, the heat of the sun made its home within your ribcage.

“Please,” you begged. It was all you had to say.

He bit his way down your thigh, leaving another trail of marks on your skin. His lips were so soft against your skin. When he reached your aching pussy, he grinned.

“You’re soaked for me, sweetheart. How long have you needed this?”

“Too long,” you whimpered, though the sound turned into a moan as he pressed a kiss to your throbbing clit.

“My poor girl,” his tone was soft with the slightest hint of mockery. You opened your mouth to respond, but you cut yourself off with a whine as Eddie’s tongue met your entrance. He lapped at you, collecting your arousal like something feral. His nose nudged against your clit, making you cry out his name.

“That’s it baby,” he moaned, “Just like that, fuck.”

You called out his name again, and he buried himself deeper inside you- a reward for your good behaviour. You could feel Eddie smile against you, grinning like a madman and lapping up your arousal as it dripped down his face. You could feel your body clench around nothing, feel yourself draw closer to the edge.

His hands reached up, moving over your hips to your breasts. His calloused fingers brushed over your nipples, squeezing and circling until you threw your head back against the altar. You tugged at his hair again, pulling him closer to your core with a desperate whine- not that he was any better at keeping his composure.

The noises he made were nothing short of delicious- hungry praises and moans that let you know just how much he wanted you. After the blood-soaked night you had, you needed to hear that. You needed to hear him moan your name. You needed to hear how badly he ached for you. It sent you right over the edge.

You let out a weak cry as he devoured you, as he sucked and bit softly, and as his fingers dipped down to find your dripping entrance. You clenched around nothing, your hips thrusting into his face of their own accord. The world faded around you, disappearing into a void of stars that burned half as brightly as you did.

“You taste so good,” he whispered, sounding almost mindless, rambling as if eating you out had decimated his ability to think, “So, so fucking good.”

You simply panted in response. Your grip relaxed on Eddie’s hair for just a second before you pulled him up to face you. He went willingly, obediently, following the unspoken order. When you brought his lips to yours, you could taste yourself on him.

One of his hands left your chest, moving to your back to pull you closer, deeper into the kiss. His fingers spread out across your back, rough fingertips dug into you carefully, almost gently. You pinned his other hand to your chest, threading your fingers through his and pressing your joined hands into your skin. You and Eddie wrapped your bodies around each other, refusing to let go as you kissed the breath from his lips.

His body was soft but firm beneath your hands. He was your anchor, keeping you tethered in the real world, ensuring that you didn’t float off into another world while you were with him. You needed that.

Slowly, keeping his hands on you, you sat up. You wrapped your free arm around his neck. He literally couldn’t get any closer to you, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying. The hand that you had tangled with his slipped away, tracing a line down his chest until it reached the button of his jeans.

You let your fingers play with the fabric, slipping beneath it to feel the rough, scarred skin of his hip. You paused for a minute, surprised at what you felt. Eddie pulled back for a second, a mildly embarrassed look on his face. You didn’t let him stay away for long. You pressed your lips to his again, hard and fast as you full on attacked his jeans.

“You must want me pretty bad, huh, angel?”

“How do you figure?” you asked, pulling him closer with the arm around his neck and bringing your lips to his neck. You kissed the column of his throat for a few moments before you bit down harshly, lips and teeth completely unforgiving. When you pulled back, a large swath of his skin was stained purple.

“Yeah, pretty boy,” you pressed a kiss to the sore spot, “I want you.”

“Good,” he growled, pushing you back onto the table and pulling you to the edge of the surface. He brushed his hand across the side of your face before lowering it, tracing down your side until he reached your cunt, “Because I want to do unspeakable things to you, pretty girl.”

You moaned, your face burning hotter than the heat death of a small universe. Eddie slipped his fingers into you. He took things slow at first, torturing you by easing you into things, pumping into you gently with just the tips of two fingers. You mewled, craving more of his touch. You’d given up on wondering how his claws weren’t cutting you. You just wanted his calloused fingers to go deeper.

Eddie silenced your pleading whines with a kiss. Slipping deeper into you, he whispered, “You have to be patient, angel. You can be patient for me, right?”

“I-” you moaned as he sunk his fingers deeper. His dark eyes watched your face intently, taking in every change in your expression.

“Come on, sweet thing. You can be patient, right?”

You whimpered, opening your mouth to respond. You didn’t get the chance. Eddie moved his fingers again, moving his fingers in and out of your dripping slit. You moaned softly, and as your lips parted, Eddie added a third finger. The sound you made snapped, becoming louder and more desperate as your demon brought you to the edge again.

“Eddie,” you whimpered, “Please. Don’t be mean to me.”

He laughed a little, pressing a kiss to your lips as he brought his thumb to your clit. You came quickly, thrashing slightly in his arms as you clenched around his fingers.

“God,” he groaned, “You’re so fuckin tight. Such a good girl for me.”

You let out a little whine, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down on top of you. The two of you stayed there for a moment, holding each other again as you calmed down.

“Think you can give me one more, pretty girl?”

“Is that even a question?”

He kissed your throat again, keeping you distracted as he freed his cock from his pants. He pulled away for a moment, allowing you to see the absolute monster he kept between his thighs. You knew, now, why he had prepared you so thoroughly. It was necessary.

His cock was almost unnatural- long and thick, red near the tip and covered in veins. It looked… demonic. And you wanted to take him inside you as soon as you possibly could.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“I do,” you grinned, reaching out for him. He leaned in, placing his face against your palm. He smiled down at you, his eyes incredibly fond. You were the thing he had searched all time and space for- and you had searched for him. Now, you were both found, both real- as batshit insane as it was that this was the place that made you so.

“Let me know if it hurts,” he whispered, “If I need to stop.”

“I will. I promise.” He pressed into you, slowly and gently, letting you feel every single ridge and vein. You shut your eyes, moaning softly. Eddie braced himself with one arm, using the other to knead at the soft flesh of your chest. His lips were on your throat again, adding more marks to the sea of purple that he’d already made.

Once he was inside, he paused, just taking a moment to feel your body around him. You clenched down on him, running a hand into his hair to tug at it again.

“You’re so fucking warm,” he growled in your ear, “So fucking tight.”

“Thanks, I worked hard on that.”

Eddie lost his composure, thrusting into you gently as he laughed, “You are so deeply strange. I adore you, did you know that?”

You thrust your hips up towards his, “I kind of figured, I’m not gonna lie.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, his thrusts increased in speed as you bathed in the light of his smile. You could feel his cock deep inside of you, pressing against every sensitive spot you had. You moaned softly as his thumb stroked over your nipple. The stimulation of his calloused touch on your breast had you arching your back, pressing further into him.

“You’re so deep inside,” your voice wasn’t much more than a whimper, though you willed it to be stronger, “Fuck, keep going.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he thrust into you harder, leaning down to bite your chest, clearly not satisfied with the job he’d done on your neck.

His hand slipped down to your clit, pressing into your swollen nub. He circled it in time with his thrusts, alternating between heavy pressure and feather light touches until you were seeing stars and screaming his name.

“Are you gonna cum for me sweet thing?”

You didn’t even get to answer his question. You came around his cock quickly, and he fucked you through your orgasm without a moment of hesitation. Your body spasmed, your walls clenching down on him until he moaned your name into your skin.

Your chest heaved as you caught your breath. Eddie’s lips didn’t leave you. He laved his tongue over the bite marks he’d made, and you could feel his smile against your skin.

“You’re so perfect, sweetheart. Such a good girl for me.”

You clenched down around him again, moaning this time at the praise. You searched your mind for a witty comment, something cute to say to make him laugh, but your brain was full of stars and nothing else. Every time his cock stabbed into you, another damn galaxy found life behind your eyes.

You used the hand you had tangled in Eddie’s hair to pull him closer. You pressed your lips to every part of him that you could reach.

“I love you,” you whispered, “I love you. I love you so fucking much.”

“I know, sweet thing. I love you, too.”

You tugged his hair, biting down on the side of his throat, and he moaned softly. You clenched your now sensitive walls around him, whimpering slightly at the sensation. He let out a sharp exhale, and his hand left your clit to wrap around your hip. You could feel how wet your cunt was just from the feeling of his damp fingers on your skin.

His thrusts grew harsher, his pace speeding up to something unforgiving. His grip on you was bruising, but you wouldn’t mind the marks.

“Are you gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” you asked, “Are you gonna cum inside me?”

His hips stuttered, and you could practically feel his heart skip a beat, “Can I?”

“Please. I want to feel you- I want this.”

“You- you promise you want this? The whole- the whole deal about your only purpose being to create life, that isn’t in your head, right?”

You shook your head, “No. Not with you.”

One of his hands found one of yours. Your fingers tangled together like they were made to do just that. You leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Besides, I’m on the pill, anyway.”

He laughed again, briefly against your lips before he went right back to kissing you. He squeezed down on your hand, his teeth grazing your lip. You could feel him twitching against your walls, could feel his cock throbbing inside you.

He thrust all the way inside you as he came. Ropes of hot cum flooded your walls, filling your cunt and warming you from the inside out. Another orgasm took you by surprise, rolling over you suddenly and making you clench down hard. Cum spilled down your thighs, pooling on the altar beneath you.

When Eddie pulled out, you were both completely breathless. His hand was still in yours, his body still draped over top of you. You wrapped your free arm around him, your fingers landing on the spot where his back met his wings. They unfurled behind him, showing you their impressive size in whole.

“You’re amazing,” your voice was quiet, trying not to ruin the post-orgasm haze, “I don’t know how I managed to land you.”

“Are you kidding?” he murmured, his voice just as quiet, “I don’t know how I managed to land you. You’re terrifying,” he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, “And sweet,” another kiss, “And you’re fucking stunning,” a third kiss.

He pulled back, warm eyes dead focused on you, “I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I have been for a while.”

“Good. Because I love you, too, and I think all of this would be a touch awkward if you didn’t love me.”

He grinned, pressing his face into your shoulder and pulling you up. More cum spilled out of you and onto the altar. You reached down, collecting some of it on your fingers and putting it in your mouth.

“Fuck-” Eddie hissed, “Don’t do that. You’re gonna make me cum again.”

You threw your head back, cackling as Eddie put his forehead against your shoulder.

“Would that really be such a bad thing?”

“Normally? No. But I just noticed that that painting looks kind of like my dad, and it’s freaking me out,” he pointed at the wall, to the massive portrait of the smirking gentleman with black hair.

You tilted your head, casually running a hand through Eddie’s hair. If you squinted, you could almost see the resemblance between Eddie and the man in the painting. You didn’t want to think about it. You’d had enough creepy shit for one evening.

“We should get going,” you murmured, wrapping Eddie’s leather jacket around you again, “Hopper will be here soon, and I don’t really want him to see us like this.”

“Fair enough,” Eddie looped his hand beneath your knees, “You brought your stuff for the weekend, right?”

“I-I did. Eddie, wait-!”

Before you could stop him, he lifted you up, carrying you over the bodies and out of the room. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly.

“Am I not-? Do I weigh anything to you?”

“Demon strength. It’s like lifting a bunch of grapes.”

You scoffed, letting your head rest against Eddie’s shoulder, “I don’t know where the butlers put my stuff. My bag could be in the body pit for all I know.”

“It’s not, I was down there.”

You scoffed again, ”Well, we’ll have to hunt for my shit I guess.”

You did. It didn’t actually take long. Most of your things had just been left by the door. As was the-

“Oh shit! The wine!” you exclaimed, patting Eddie’s chest until he put you down. You ran over to the bottle, which had been left just beside your bags- bags that you ignored entirely in exchange for the sweet bottle of vintage.

“Angel, don’t you-? Want your clothes first-?”

“Eddie, you don’t understand, this wine was fucking expensive and I didn’t think I was gonna get a chance to drink it.”

You struggled helplessly with the cork for a few seconds before you gave up and handed it to Eddie.

“Demon strength?”

He laughed at you a little, but he did open the bottle for you. While he did, you pulled some clothes out of your bag- a shirt you’d meant to sleep in, and some pajama pants. You kept Eddie’s jacket wrapped around your shoulders.

Once you were dressed, the wine was ready to go. You gave Eddie a cheer, and a small round of applause. He joined you, and for a moment you both applauded like idiots in the foyer of Roman’s big ass house. The portraits seemed to smile down at you, grinning your approval as you drank the blood coloured wine.

You and Eddie passed the bottle back and forth wordlessly as you made your way to the door. Your hand slipped into his again. Every time you held his hand, you felt more and more like that’s what your hands were supposed to do- what you wanted them to do. When you weren’t busy taking over the world, you wanted to hold Eddie close to you.

The two of you sat together on the front stoop of the McMansion. The porch light cast a warm glow over the front yard. The freshly mowed lawn had drowned beneath a sea of leaves since you last saw it. You let your head rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“What the fuck are we gonna tell Hopper?”

Eddie took a drink of the wine, “The truth. Your in-laws tried to kill you. We didn’t let them.”

“I’m pretty sure we both committed several counts of murder tonight.”

He shrugged, “Eh, it wouldn’t be the first time. For me, anyway.”

You looked up at him, concerned, though you didn’t move away from his shoulder, “Should I be concerned?”

“I mean, I haven’t technically killed any people? It’s a long story.”

“Oh,” you nodded, taking the bottle from him and taking down a deep sip of wine, “So. What about the melted puddles of people? How do we explain that? Do we just tell the cops that you’re a demon?”

Again, Eddie shrugged, though a wince crossed his face, “Well, Hopper knows.”

“WHAT?”

“Yep. And Steve. And Robin. They know.”

“What? Okay, okay, who else knows?”

“Nancy doesn’t know officially, but I think she’s aware. Also, you know those kids who come into Family Video like, constantly?”

“Mhmm, the freshmen.”

“Yeah, they know. One of them was there for it.”

“It?”

“The incident. I’ll tell you about it another night, we’ve… we’ve been through a lot today.”

“That’s one way of putting it. I think tonight was my incident.”

“You could definitely call it that.”

You smiled, lacing your fingers with Eddie’s, “If this was my incident, I’m glad you were here for it.”

“Yeah?” he asked, placing his head on top of yours.

“Yeah.”

You let your eyes flutter closed then, knowing that you were safe from harm. When you woke, there would be no sirens, and no flashing lights. Just the guy with the sweet daughter, who bought literally all of the Barbie movies and Die Hard. The former for his daughter and her friend, the latter for his daughter’s other friends.

When you woke, Eddie would be there with you. His eyes would be brown again, and his wings would be tucked away so well that you would wonder if this whole nightmare had been a terrible dream. You would feel his hand around yours, and you would know it hadn’t been. You would know, finally, that you were no longer anyone’s prey.

You were the hunter.

♥ A/N: I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS SINCE SEPTEMBER WHAT THE FUCK. IT'S SO LONG MY EDITING SOFTWARE WOULDN'T ACCEPT IT, SO YOU'RE GETTING THIS THING RAW. happy halloween babes, i hope you enjoyed this. thank you to @mxcheese for reading this a million times, and to my partner for listening to me ramble about various plot points with no context.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #read the tws on this one man #im nervous to actually tag them since tumblr's been Bad about that lately #lmk if i should #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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