#feeling the cold fucking hand reach from the depths of the water
Text
when driving past the cliff, while looking over the edge of the railing, when peering deep down into that cave as you clutch the roots of the old oak, desperate to prevent a fall
it's so easy to catch your foot, to dislodge a rock,
or to simply hear that siren in the depths, biding your decision to join her
#tw depression#this is to say that flirting with the devil might get a response lol#got in the fuckin 'leon headspace' and now i'm#ok no this has been a growing problem for awhile but im using my hyperfixation as an excuse :/#depression edging lmfao#it's like playing chicken with a train#feeling the cold fucking hand reach from the depths of the water#and suddenly sinking doesn't seem too bad#a weird nostalgia
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
if i could bring you anything, i swear to god i'd bring you peace
pairing: suguru x reader
wc: 811
a/n: had a sad girl moment yesterday, so enjoy this fluff i dredged up from the depths of my drafts <3
listen
The muffled sound of your music goes quiet, and you wait a few beats before pushing yourself up to check what’s wrong. You take a deep breath as you breach the surface of the water, lungs burning at the intake of air, and your eyebrows pinch together almost immediately in annoyance at the sight in front of you.
“What are you doing?” Suguru isn’t even trying to hide the amused, albeit slightly concerned, look on his face. He’s sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, spinning your phone between his fingers.
“Having a sad girl bathtub moment, what does it look like?” you huff, leaning forward to grab the device—he really had the nerve to stop the music in the middle of such a good song—but he holds it above his head and out of your reach.
“Like you’re trying to see how long you can hold your breath. Like you dropped your ring but it fell down the drain when you were trying to get it and you don't know how to tell me so now you’ve given up. Like maybe I should be more worried. Should I be more worried?” He raises an eyebrow and you let out a quiet sigh, your shoulders sagging slightly with the motion, and the sight makes it feel like a weight has settled on his chest.
“No, I’m fine, can I please just have my music back?” You stick your bottom lip out in a pout, giving him the puppy dog eyes you know usually make him fold.
But Suguru still doesn’t hand over your phone and instead sets it on the counter. He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Rough day?”
His voice is so soft it threatens to break down the walls you’ve been holding up since you got out of bed that morning.
“Yeah,” you whisper, “I just didn’t know when you’d be home, and—”
“You could have texted me.” Suguru frowns, but you wave him off.
“It’s not that big of a deal, I wasn’t gonna bother you.”
Suguru lets out an almost exasperated laugh, and the sound makes your belly warm. “Anything that makes you want to do this is a big enough deal to me.” He grabs your phone off the counter. “Tell you what. You have until I’m done making dinner to finish sad girl bathtub hours. You can still be sad, and we can talk about your day if you want to, or we can do something else. But what I’m not going to let you do is turn into a human-sized prune in our bathtub.” He sets your phone on the edge of the tub and leans down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Okay?”
You nod slowly, relaxing at the lingering feeling of his lips on your skin before tilting your head up to urge him into a kiss.
Suguru hums into your mouth, pulling back for a fleeting moment to nudge his nose against your cheek. “Say okay,” he whispers.
“Okay,” you breathe, and you lean closer to capture his lips again and deepen the kiss. You pull one hand out from under the water and cup his jaw before pushing your fingers into his hair, your teeth flashing in the briefest glimpse of a grin at the way he jumps when water trickles down his neck.
He pulls away and you have to fight off a laugh as he wipes at the back of his head and noticeably shivers. “I’ll call for you when dinner’s ready.”
“Or…” You tilt your head to the side and give him a sweet smile. “You could join me?”
Suguru huffs out a ‘no-fucking-way’ laugh and shakes his head. “Absolutely not. That water is way too cold.” You pout, but he’s already standing up and turning toward the door. “I mean it. We can have sad girl blanket burrito hours or sad girl movie marathon hours, but we’re not going to have sad-girl-getting-hypothermia-in-the-bath hours.”
And this time you do laugh, and in that moment you both know he’s made the breakthrough you needed from him. “Okay, okay. I’ll see you at dinner.”
He nods, and he begins making his way back out of the bathroom when you call for him.
“Suguru?”
He turns back around and raises an eyebrow in a silent question.
“I love you,” you murmur with a voice so soft it makes his heart swell. “And thank you.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up. “I love you too.”
You watch him leave the bathroom and then close your eyes, letting yourself take what feels like the first deep breath you’ve been able to manage all day. And then you look at where your phone is still resting on the side of the tub, waiting for you to press play, and you reach forward and pull the drain.
fun fact i felt like i needed to title this some phoebe bridgers lyric but i'm sadly not a phoebe girlie and i couldn't lie to y'all like that
reblogs & comments always appreciated <3
#geto x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto fluff#geto x reader fluff#geto suguru x reader#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#geto angst#geto x reader angst#jjk angst#jjk x reader angst#jjk x reader fluff#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader angst#jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
only for you || j.m.
pairing || joel miller x fem!reader
summary || there was one routine that you and Joel never broke, not even when the world goes up in flames.
author's note || a part two to singing in the shower! but also can be read as a stand alone. this was supposed to be posted two sunday’s ago but um procrastination kicked in. hope you enjoy <3
warnings || angst, some fluff, mentions of death, canon typical violence mentions, reader is five years younger, soft!joel, hurt/comfort, joel with wet hair, SMUT, vaginal sex, praise kink, soft sex, creampie, soft dom!joel, [18+ only]
Joel wasn’t as soft as he used to be.
His calm, gentle smile that shined when you and Sarah danced around in the kitchen, listening to Johnny Cash, had faded into hard lines and gray stubble. His movements were brash and jarring, almost threatening with his hard-set glare that bore into everyone around him.
He never smiled anymore, not really.
His lips would quirk slightly upwards in amusement from your insults to other people in the QZ that deserved it, or his lips would curl in delight from the safe haven of his apartment, but that was all you really got. You didn’t complain much, though. It wasn't like you smiled that often either.
Only with him. Only with each other.
Instead, Joel tended to show his affection toward you in ways of touch.
He was protective—that much is true. Any time you had to leave the albeit protection of Boston for whatever reason, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. He would have his hand guiding you by the small of your back. His arm would reach out to stop you from walking any further to the dangerous depths of the unknown.
He always squeezed your wrist in anticipation of what was to come. He never lets you walk behind him, ever. You are always first. He would make hard-set rules with you on outing trips, despite the grit of your teeth from irritation.
It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t handle yourself. No, he knew that. He has watched you decapitate a shambler or two over the years. He has seen you take on about five men at a time and make it out with only a couple of stab wounds. He knows you can handle yourself just fine.
He just couldn't bear to lose you. Not on his watch. He has lost a fuck ton in his life, and the thought of losing something that is keeping him on his last thread and something so pure and good to him—well, it terrifies him.
You are the only thing that matters to him.
So, his only way of truly showing affection, to know nothing has changed with how he truly feels about you, was through his feather-light touches and protective manner.
It was endearing, really. You knew he still loves, and fuck, did you still love too.
There was one guarantee, though, through all of his overbearing protectiveness and crinkled wrinkles of menacingly deadly eyes that you knew Joel was still enamored by you. There was one constant—a routine that never changed. If there was one thing he could look forward to, it was that constant. It was you that he could rely on.
It was simple, really. It almost seemed stupid that there was one moment in time every single day that the two of you could count on one another.
You both always showered together. Always.
It didn’t matter if the water was cold or if there was barely even any water, to begin with. It didn’t even matter if you weren’t in the QZ. Overgrown hot springs and vastly green rivers still counted as getting clean. The shower walls of your shared apartment weren't the biggest, either, but the two of you made it work.
But that one constant that he could always look forward to was holding you in the shower and pressing gentle kisses against the juncture of your neck and shoulder.
He craved it.
Joel would always walk through the front door with a grunt after getting home from smuggling Oxy to some FEDRA soldier with Tess. He was tired, absolutely exhausted. He was like that pretty much every day, and he could feel his age catching up with him.
You were sitting criss crossed on the beat-up couch, reading Meditations by Marcus Aurelius. He could feel something beat and sprout across his chest at the sight. You have read that book probably about ten times by now, and yet you read it all the same with an immersed furrowed brow.
He had gotten the book for your birthday a couple of years ago. He watched you unwrap the shitty old newspaper with animated eyes as you stared at the cover.
He could’ve sworn he saw tears on your lash line. You enveloped him into a hug—hands pressing tightly against his back to keep him close and you kept him there. You both sat like that for a long time.
He always loved watching you read. He didn’t pay that much attention before everything went to shit, but now, it was his favorite pastime.
Your lips would lick the corner of your mouth in concentration, and your eyes rapidly scanned each individual page as if you were hanging on the edge of your seat. It was always a heartfelt reminder for him of you—of how much he truly cherishes you.
Before the outbreak, you had been a philosophy professor at UT Austin. It’s how you met, actually. You were grading papers in a coffee shop when you saw the two of them walk in. Sarah had begged him for a chocolate chip muffin, and since it was a special occasion to be in the heart of the city, he couldn’t resist saying yes. He had accidentally bumped into your table, causing the three of you to have a lengthy conversation as if it was the most normal thing in the world.
“Long day, handsome?”
His eyes focus back on you. It was like his thoughts had put him in a trance until your soft voice punctured the air.
You were peering through the dusty book, and a ghost of a smile wrapped around your lips. He nodded, stretching out his hand for you to take it. You dog-eared the book and placed it face down on the couch. You took his hand—feeling the dry calluses and rough skin.
“Long fuckin’ day.”
He guided you to the cramped bathroom, and you squeezed his hand. He turned on the shower head while you took off your shirt and pants. A shiver ran through your body from the lack of isolated heat. He did the same, unbuttoning his plaid shirt and tossing it carelessly onto the floor.
He stepped into the shower to place his hand under the water to test it as if he didn’t know that the water was barely even warm. He did it every single time you two bathed. Every time. It was all routine.
You let him guide you into the shower, eyes noticing his own trailing down your figure. Every single day, he couldn’t help but look at your beautiful curves and supple skin.
He wanted to admire you for the rest of his days. He wanted the scene of you washing your body of dirt and grime to be seared into his brain like a farmer branding some cattle. You close the curtain behind you and watch as his eyes never leave you.
“Pretty girl.” He whispered into your ear. You felt yourself softly smile—something you hadn’t done in hours, not since Joel woke you up with a kiss on your cheek.
You let the feeling of him wash over your body and soul, his arms wrapping around your torso and pulling you close. He smelled earthy and bold, with a hint of cedar from his own musk. You could feel his chest fall and rise against your shoulder blades, and his chin dug into your shoulder—endearingly.
You let out a hum before untangling his arms. As much as you love these moments, you know you shouldn't waste too much water. You rubbed a shampoo bar into your hands and lathered them together to create a sudsy mess. Joel felt his eyes flutter close in anticipation for your hands to dig into his hair.
He lets out a soft moan when your hands finally grab hold of his hair. His jaw slacks open, and you try to suppress a smile from his relaxed state. Your hands scratched against his scalp to clean all of the dirt and oil off of him. Joel’s eyes were practically rolling into the back of his head from the euphoric emotions that sunk deep within his chest.
His eyes snap open in disbelief when he feels your hands leave his hair, and you almost laughed aloud. He could see the amused expression radiate off of you, and he felt himself heat up—you never failed to make him feel a certain way.
You gasped as you felt his hand harshly grip your hips, but you saw a bright smile wrapping around his face that almost made you freeze. His smile. It punctured the air and made your head feel dizzy with delight. Your eyes rake over his pearly teeth and deep wrinkled lines on his cheeks. It was ethereal. He was ethereal.
“What you starin’ at, pretty girl?”
You pressed your thumb into the crevasse of his dimple, and his eyes fluttered back closed. “I think you’re the pretty one.”
He lets out a small snort. “Not a day in hell.” His Texas accent was gruff against the planes of your ear. His hand trailed itself up to rest on your cheek, thumb swiping so soft and caring that it brought a bigger smile to your lips. “Ain’t pretty at all.”
“I beg to differ, Miller.” His eyes crinkled in a smile at the use of his last name—knowing you were super serious now. But the teasing gleam of your eyes told him otherwise. “You’re too pretty.”
He clicks his tongue. “Too pretty, huh? Think I’m takin’ a run for your money?”
You shake your head in bubbled-up laughter—adoration spreading from your shoulders to your toes. Throughout all of the tragedy and suffering this world has put the two of you through, you are so elated to have each other.
“Oh, handsome, you took it and buried it deep.” He rolled his eyes and gently pinched your cheek to get you to stop teasing. Although, if there’s one dynamic that never changed, it was giving each other shit.
He lets out a huff. “Whatever you say.”
You gently guided him under the stream of water and rinsed out all of the shampoo. You cupped a hand over his eyes to avoid any product from stinging his eyes. You turn to pump some expired conditioner in your hands, but his rough fingertips halt you to a stop.
“Your turn, darlin’.”
═ ∘◦❦◦∘ ═
After Joel relaxed in the lukewarm shower with you, he always got a little soft. Even if the shower was no less than five minutes, you could always tell how much he enjoyed it.
It reminded him of home. It reminded him a little bit of what once was or what could be.
He always stares—lovingly—at your newly clean body. He watched your chest rise and fall so gently from the calm atmosphere of your apartment.
His soft brown eyes skated across your figure with such love—such hope and elation. He felt like he was in pure bliss just from the exhilarated feeling of the thrill of your gentle touches caressing his skin.
He felt whole in these moments with you.
He watched you gently rub expired lotion onto your skin. Boston was always humid and lacked the airy feel of dry Texas winters, but the frigid cold of light snowfall always broke out your skin. Joel loved to feel your soft curves, and his hands would spread across your legs to relish in the feeling. He was obsessed with your thighs, too, gripping and nipping at them until you had to tug his hands away.
You stood near the bed to find that his eyes were already on you—his naked form sitting on the uncomfortable mattress. His wet hair glistened underneath the yellow glow of the overhead light. He looked so handsome like that. The gray hairs poked loudly against his soft brown ones, and you watched as the water dripped down his neck.
“C’mere.” You didn’t need to be told twice before taking your seat onto his legs—straddling his waist and your hands gripping his shoulder. His thighs were tense and hard, muscles flexing underneath your own.
“Y’smell so sweet—” He whispered into the frizz of your hair. His hands rested on your hips, while his fingertips squeezed around your love handles. “Could eat you right up.”
You looked into those grumpy brown eyes, and pure adoration sprouted from your chest and into your lungs. He was intoxicating in each and every way, from his rough exterior to his soft lingering touches that send love aches into your bones.
“Joel.” You whispered.
You pressed your lips against him, tasting burnt coffee and of him, that lingered in your mouth. Your lips were molding together with each open-mouthed kiss and teeth clashing to be closer and closer. You could feel yourself start to squirm in his lap, and he had to have a tight grip just to keep you somewhat still.
Your hands pushed themselves into his damp hair, spreading your fingers across each strand. You pulled gently at the base of his neck, and a moan vibrated against your lips.
He pulled away from you—much to your dismay—to reach and pull down your underwear. The material pooled around your ankles, and you anticipatingly shrugged them off.
“Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.”
You shivered from the suspense of what was to come, but you wanted to stop him from taking control. He deserved to be loved on too. He deserved to feel the euphoric dance that pooled in his stomach just like you did.
You shook your head. “W-Wanna ride you, Joel. Please.” He let out a shaky breath because god, he could never say no to you. You could ask for all the stars in the sky, and he would give them to you in a heartbeat.
He finally nodded after gaining composure and re-adjusted his hands to rest more gently on your torso. You could tell your wetness dripped from your lips and spread to your hood. Your walls ache and plead for the sweet stretch of his cock.
You watched his cock twitch from your glistening cunt. He knew you were wet. He always knew. He could practically taste it on his tongue if he thought hard enough, but his brain couldn’t catch up. Not when you take your hand to position his length and slowly sink down onto him.
He let out a groan as he listened to your sweet whimpers. “S-Shit.”
You both stayed still for a moment while you caught your breath from the long stretch of his cock. No matter the twenty or so years you have been together, you could never get used to his thick cock filling you up to the brim.
“Fuck, baby, feel so fuckin’ tight.” And you always did. You always hugged him completely and squeezed until your juices ran down his thighs. You were always fucking heaven.
The gentlest of moans left your throat, and as if he wanted to capture them, Joel started pressing kisses up and down your neck. “Y’take me so well, darlin’.”
You grind up and sink your way back down, a whine escaping you. His eyes are glued to watching himself disappear inside of you—hands tightening once again around your love handles. “Goddamn, baby—”
“Fuck, Joel. Yes—”
Your thighs spread even wider as you snapped back down his length—the soft cushion of the bedspread flushed against your knees. “You like this hmm? Like bein’ in control?” His words slurred together, and he took in every snap and roll of your hips.
You nodded. “Love when you’re a mess for me, Joel.” Your head lulled back, and he groaned—sultry and deep as it hit your ears. “Yeah, Joel, Yes—”
Your hand moved to cup his cheek in the softest of ways and it made Joel’s brain short-circuit. He whimpered at the contact of your skin and the simultaneous rock of your hips. You could barely make out the next sentence he says because you squeezed his cock, and Joel became too drunk off of you.
“Fuck, d-darlin’, baby—shit—” He gasped and puffed—chest heaving from the pure sensation of your spongey walls. You started to feel that familiar coil wrap against your stomach, pushing yourself to find that angle.
You started to lean more toward the side to grind and swirl your hips as fast as you could. You could tell the angle wasn’t quite right, so you tried again—gasping and moaning in the process. You almost wanted to groan in frustration alone when you still couldn’t find it.
Joel just watched in amusement as you tried to find the spot he was always able to find. He almost didn’t say anything from your adorable expression until he saw the frown across your face.
“You want me to help, darlin’?” You looked down to see a small smirk in the corner of his mouth. You almost wanted to say no, but you ground your hips again, causing the two of you to moan, and you gave in.
You mewled out. “Please, Joel. I-I need you.”
In one swift movement, Joel flipped you over so that your back was pressed up against the mattress. He presses a kiss to your calf as if it gave you any warning. He swung your leg right over his shoulder and thrust so deep inside you; you had to hold onto the bedroom wall behind you. “Fuck! Joel!”
“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” His cock pounded into you, and he hit that spot over and over and over. You screamed into the night air and chanted his name as if it was the only thing on your mind—and it was. All you could think about was Joel.
“Joel! P-Please! Oh, Fuck—”
“Yeah? Gonna cum, sweet girl?” You couldn't even respond back to him because his thumb presses up against your clit, and your jaw slacks in a silent scream. “Cum for me. Please, pretty girl. Cum.”
With a “JoelJoelJoel” and a clench of your walls, your juices flood around yours and his own thighs. Your eyes rolled back into your head as he thrusts through your climax. “Yeah. That’s it, darlin’. Look at you. Pretty thing.” He almost coos. He could watch you cum around his cock until it was the only thing he thought about.
One, two, three thrusts into your sweet ecstasy, and Joel sighs out your name as he spills inside of you. Thick ropes of his cum filled your walls, and it caused you to clench once more. He pumped his cock to feel the sticky mess of his cum and yours as they swirled together inside of you.
“So good for takin’ care of me, huh?” He joked, breathless. He pressed a sweet kiss to your temple.
You fought the urge to punch his arm. Instead, you rolled over so your back was facing him.
“Shut the fuck up, Miller.”
He pulled you close and wrapped his arm around your torso. You reach around to squeeze his hand, causing a shadow of a smile to stretch his cheeks. You both always cuddled silently before having to take another, very cold, shower.
“Yes, ma’am.”
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#tlou#tlou fanfiction#tlou show#the last of us smut#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#joel miller
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
lurk | feyd rautha
part 3 of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 4.)
summary:
the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.
“i have another gift for you.”
“her.”
you.
wc: 4k.
tw: blood, gore, possessive feyd rautha, bene gesserit shenanigans, determinism but make it sexy, bit of knife play, blood play, wound fucking, fingering, oral (fem recieving), somewhat sub feyd, breeding, inkpie, brief mention of cockwarming.
you’re kneeling. or rather, two guards are forcing you down on your knees, fingers digging in the meat of your shoulder until they reach the bone. you hold back a wince.
you fail.
your breath is heavy, stuttering little gasps leaving your lips with droplets of blood. your left side is on fire, each inhale pure, agonizing torture. use the voice and they’ll kill you.
you’re kneeling before baron vladimir harkonnen in his personal chambers, in a tattered robe. it’s filthy, the way he looks at you like you’re prized meat.
you bare your teeth.
“such defiance, atreides.” from the murky depths of his bath, he tilts his head. volutes of smoke escape his parted lips, slithering towards you. “tell me, why should i let you live?”
careful.
plans within plans within plans. you can’t let your feeble control over the situation escape you. inhale. choke on your scream - like hell you’ll show him your pain.
“if i weren’t useful to your plans, i would be dead.”
an image flashes in your mind’s eye. a spider woven out of human flesh, the mangled bodies of harkonnen prisoners frankensteined together. barely alive. an eternity of torment.
the baron laughs, a deep, cavernous rumbling. it fills the penumbra, fills you with dread. your shoulders tense - nervous impulse. you’re not in control.
“fair enough.” he inches forward, the gigantic mass of him rippling through filthy waters. “where is your brother?”
pain. it ripples through you, sinks its claws in your chest and freezes there, a sinking weight. you can’t breathe. you push through.
“he’s already given his last breath to the sands of arrakis.”
“how would you know?”
“dreams.”
the answer escapes your gritted teeth with frightening rapidity. good. let him think pain clouds your judgment. let him see you as weaker than you really are.
one of the guards tightens his hold, forces you to stand straight. blood drips down your lip. you will not scream.
“dreams?”
the subtle narrowing of his eyes. a quirk of his lip. disbelief. intrigue.
“i’ve followed my mother’s footsteps.”
“ah, lady jessica.”
keep her name out of your mouth.
he leans back in the bathtub. silence settles. stretches. stretches. he’s pensive, the baron. his lips wrap at the end of the pipe, mouth like a maw swallowing it, releasing acrid smoke that burns you. spice.
(visions. shai hulud deemed your brother worthy. on they go. march south or die. maybe the sands haven’t consumed him yet.)
nervous exhaustion settles in. they haven’t treated your wounds. it takes every ounce of energy to remain conscious, every inch of pride to will your muscles to stop trembling. your vision blurs at the edges.
“i’ll ask again, atreides. why should i let you live?”
bastard. you’re on your last legs. he has you cornered.
“because you’d have to kill your heir if you don’t.”
now that catches his attention.
“go on.”
careful. there’s a thin line between usefulness and danger. do not step on the wrong side.
“he’s recognized me in the arena."
the ghost of his touch against the wicked scar of your forearm. the flash of a grin, black teeth like a promise inked at the back of your skull.
you fought well, atreides.
behind your back, your nails dig into your palms.
“he’ll ruin you.”
“is that so?”
skepticism. amusement.
“do you think it wise to try and find out, baron?”
silence. fate looms over you. spins its web in the calculated gaze of the baron, gaze like cold steel cutting through you.
your life is in his hands and he relishes in it. in having you, half bare before him, chest heaving with each stuttering breath, red darkening the black of your dress.
you watch him lick his lips and shiver with disgust.
“do you think it wise to threaten me when i have wiped your house from the surface of the known galaxy?”
oh, right on a silver platter.
your mouth drips shadows as you bare your teeth in a grin.
“only because you were backed up by the imperium and its sardaukar.” you cough. blood drips on the ground. “you were a pawn, and that scum of an emperor could deem you a threat, too.”
a beat.
he’s smiling.
“you’ll be of use, atreides.”
a wave of his hand.
the guards move. drag you up until you’re standing on faltering legs. defiant, still. breath ragged, panting, blood pooling at your feet. you feel soiled, with the way the baron looks at you, eyes dragging down to your womb.
there’s a commotion behind you. you still. in your state, you’ve neglected to analyze your surroundings, only focusing on the biggest threat in the room. you didn’t take into account the harkonnen court behind you. atreides. the baron practically signed your death.
shit.
your vision is darkening in the corners.
“i ought to drown you in that tub.”
feyd-rautha, voice a low growl borne out of primal fury. feyd-rautha, in dark robes, shadow among shadows. you catch the slow twitch of his pale hand, the instinctual gesture of nerves calling for a familiar blade. to kill or protect, you do not know.
the guards freeze. you’re left there, struggling to stand, sweat dripping down your back with the effort of staying upright. how utterly humiliating.
“do not be hasty, my dear nephew.”
a ripple. the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.
“i have another gift for you.”
“her.”
you.
one step, two, until he’s facing you.
he snarls at the guards. they let go of you. you collapse, only stopped from slamming upon the marble floors by two strong arms.
he’s pulling you in his chest, arm wrapping around your waist. you shudder, nerves alight with the instinctual need to get away from this place, from the baron’s lecherous’ stare, from the court’s bloodlust.
i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear-
you don’t realize you’ve been shaking until a hand settles at the back of your head. warm. comforting. rubbing small circles in your scalp until you relax, if only by a fraction. he won’t let them harm you - you know it, deep in your soul.
“yes, her.” dismissive. “and a bigger one. arrakis.”
you feel it, the way the na-baron’s body tenses, the ripple of the hard planes of his chest under the soft silk of his clothes. anticipation. unease. you press your cheek to his heart, listen to the erratic pulse of it.
“what about rabban?”
“he has failed to protect the spice production.”
paul. your fingers clench in your palm, piercing the skin.
“tame arrakis feyd. free the spice, and i’ll make you emperor.”
you still. he who controls the spice has ultimate power over the known galaxy. power is power. knowledge is power.
“how?”
“use me.”
they still. rapt attention falls upon you. your fingers dig into the na-baron’s forearm like a vice to remain upright.
“if the great houses were to learn that the emperor ordered an entire house to be wiped out, they would question his authority. rebel. wage war until one comes on top.” you swallow blood. “you’ll have me as a living witness and weapon.”
“a weapon, huh?”
feyd-rautha looks down at you. there’s something awfully calculating in the way he assesses you, in the way his fingers curl over your hip - possessive. protective.
the baron rises by a fraction, mephistopheles bargaining.
“will you side with us, atreides?”
you let out a shaky breath. laughter. you’re laughing at him, at the absurdity of the situation - you, last of your house, striking a deal with the devil for revenge.
“i will. i only ask for one thing in return - the emperor’s head.”
the baron’s gaze is riveted to you. he nods. bargain sealed.
“this must not leave this room.”
feyd-rautha springs into action, blades drawn out of their sheaths before the baron finishes his sentence.
bodies fall.
carnifex. the butcher. oh, he’s gorgeous, feyd-rautha, twin blades slicing through gaping throats, droplets of blood landing on his pale cheek.
the baron immerses himself in that wretched bath, until it’s only you and the apex predator that is him.
you take a step forward. two. three. until you’re facing him, slowly raising your hand. the motion alone has you gasping for breath. still, you persist, until your fingers settle on his cheek, thumb wiping away at the gore sprayed there.
he leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded, nuzzling in your palm. his own hand cradles yours, warm, smearing blood on your skin. his lips press against your palm, against the many half-moons your nails have left in their wake.
“come, my little atreides,” he mutters. “you need medical attention.”
his eyes sink into yours, magnetic, all consuming. they dart to your parted lips, to the blood coating them. he leans in, breath like fire upon your soul, upon your awaiting mouth.
your breath stutters.
oh.
“catch me, feyd.”
you fall.
.
.
.
fall until you stand in the desert of arrakis. paul has his back turned to you, silhouette burning bright in your retina. corpses. they’re burning, all of them, and with the stench of sun-charred flesh rises a litany. lisan al gaib.
lead them to paradise.
you want to scream. you want to reach out for cruel fate and rip her asunder with your bare hands until that twisted future is no more.
you do not know whether your brother is the kwisatz haderach. you do not know if there is a kwisatz haderach, what’s with the missionaria protectiva’s wretched tale.
warmth seeps in your womb, the gentle press of a lover’s hand. you do not know if the child you’ll bear will be the one.
desert sands slips from your fingers.
you just want your family back.
**
feyd doesn’t expect it, the moment you collapse in his arms with a whispered plea. still, he catches you. slides his arms under the back of your knees and pulls you close, where he knows no harm would come to you.
who would possibly dare to cross him?
warmth spreads across his hand. blood, he realizes. your wound, that vicious strike of his hasn’t been treated. fury washes over him, gaping maw sinking in his heart. it is vicious, too, that fury.
it tells him of blood and death and destruction. death to the baron. death and misery upon those who’ve wronged you - doesn’t matter if he has to face the sardaukar, for he is legion.
the hallways are empty. servants have long deserted the baron’s quarters, knowing not to disturb him. good. no one must know of your presence here.
he looks down at you, at your wan face, at the blood dripping down your chin, spreading, spreading down your throat.
he cannot let you die.
he cannot compromise himself more than he already has by threatening the doctors to kill them should you die in their hands. he leaves you in their care and strides back to his own chambers. they’ll notify him of your condition.
you, last atreides left standing. you, with your sharp wit, sharp blade and sharper smile. you, feral, snarling at him in the arena. you, hands dipped in ink darker than black, spreading it over his back.
he had felt your warmth, back then. felt the softness of your skin on his, shivered as you ran over his deltoids, down to the rib - lower. each and every one of his nerves, raw, exposed, yearning for your touch.
there had been a beat, a split second of hesitation on your part. blood calls for blood, and his house has spilled so much of your blood. it would have been easy for you to take a hold of his blade and sink it in his exposed back.
he almost wanted you to do it.
(he had tilted his head, back then, a low growl leaving his lips at the mere thought of it. he could almost taste it, your sheer want.)
he, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen, lets his guard down, as if waiting for you to strike. why is that?
his steps do not lead him to a place of honor. too much blood has been spilled in this palace - a tribute to harkonnen nature, really. verses upon verses of hymns interwoven with gore and the acrid scent of enemies torn asunder by their blades. hellish epics to those who died bloody.
retribution is second nature - and he expects it from you.
then why is he so soft around you?
you’re still an atreides. your only worth to his uncle as of now resides in this precise fact - that you remain a witness to your house’s demise. a hidden blade, ready to be sunk in the emperor’s back.
his steps slow.
there’s something.
you, standing in the arena, raising your head, voice distorted and hoarse, thousands of your foremothers screaming in righteous fury.
you will not perceive me as i am.
he hadn’t, not until his fingers met the jagged ends of your scar.
a bene gesserit trick.
“are you lost, my lord na-baron?”
a silhouette in the shadows, shrouded in veils. he can only make out a smile - sweet, charming. not enough to conceal the sharpness beneath. witch.
he remains silent.
“what will you do with lady atreides?”
his resolve weakens. here, in the dead silence of the hall, he speaks:
“she will be mine.” a beat. the nervous twitch of his fingers, aching for a blade. “is it not what you intended, witch?”
he knows she is smiling, the bene gesserit facing him.
plans within plans within plans. atreides, harkonnen, corrino, dozens of great houses and they’re none the wiser.
“it was.”
**
none of it is real, it is all an illusion - your touch is wrong, your judgment unjust, faltering. dreams have meaning, this must be one. you can still taste the sands of arrakis, hear the screams of the billions of people starving, begging-
you rise in your bed - information flashes.
a bed. bandages wrapped tightly around your side. harsh, cold walls. antiseptic. blood - a medical wing.
feyd rautha.
you startle. he’s watching you, head slightly tilted to the side. assesses you still, gaze raking over the thin fabric of the covers.
his gaze is free to roam the expanse of your bare throat, to trail down to the dips of your collarbones, to the swell of your naked breasts. you shiver.
“is the sight to your liking, my lord na-baron?”
a chuckle like a rattlesnake. he steps closer, until he’s all but hovering above you, hand lightly pressing down on the mattress below.
“will you have me, my wife?”
you blink.
“we’re not-”
his fingers run up your wrist, press against the long scar marring your forearm.
“does it truly matter? you were made to be mine.” slowly, he sinks to his knees, glacier eyes smoldering in the penumbra. “and i was made to be yours.”
generations of prefect planning for this - you, last atreides left standing, and him, feyd rautha harkonnen, alone in the same room, bred for one another, for the kwisatz haderach to be conceived.
you raise your hand, cradling his cheek.
“have me, feyd-rautha.”
he presses a kiss to your palm, your inner wrist. he grins, black teeth like a gaping maw ready to sink into the marrow of you. your pulse jumps at that, rabbit-quick against the thin skin of your wrist. he feels it, with the way his thumb presses down on the delicate flesh.
his hand slithers under the covers, drags them down, until your side is completely exposed. he presses a kiss there, too, on the stitched up wound at your side. it’ll scar. a living, breathing reminder of him, of the kiss of his blade on your skin. the weapon is in his hand before you know it, slicing through bandages.
you feel his breath before you feel the press of his lips on your side. you gasp, fingers reaching for him, digging in his nape.
his tongue meets raw flesh, teeth worrying at the stitches until they snap. his nail rakes the cut, spreads its edges apart until liquid warmth blossoms at your side, trickling down your ribs.
you scream.
his lips slam against your own. warm. scorching. bruising. he presses himself to you like he wants to sink in the marrow of you and taste.
your hand raises to his chest, a meek press against his heart, fingers weaving with the velvet shadows of his jacket.
closer.
he growls. low, primal, needy. pushes his fingers in the gaping wound at your side - white hot pain surges through you. your mind grows blank. agony never felt so sweet.
your lips part in a cry - he swallows it down with greedy laughter.
you feel him smile against your lips, tongue reaching out for yours. heavy. you bring him closer. his hand twists, index curling up. you think he wants to reach your heart and never let go.
“feyd-”
he stills. nips at your lip one last time, backing away. a spider-web string of saliva links you both. he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a low hum. desire curls inside your lower belly.
“more,” you beg.
“where?”
you take his hand, bring it between your thighs, face heating up. he’s laughing, feyd rautha, the tip of his blood-soaked fingers brushing your cunt.
you gasp at that, at the way he spreads you apart, sinks into you with shameless abandon. you whine as you feel his fingers curl oh so sweetly.
he’s watching you. leaning closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your inner thigh, until-
until his lips press against your heat, tongue lapping at you. you mewl, hand pressing him closer, nails sinking into his nape. you feel him growl against you, a low, needy sound as he tastes you, consumes you, tongue flicking against your clit.
something’s building in you, agonizingly warm, blistering fire spreading over your skin. a low vibration.
he’s purring, you realize, eyes closed in bliss as he laps at you, tongue delving into you, your essence running down his chin. you bite your lip until you taste blood.
it’s all too much.
the way his fingers have you keening his name like holy prayer. the way his tongue burns a path of desire over your slit, skilled little licks having you thrash in his grip, the low vibration of his purr having you squirming in his grasp. his free hand tightens around your thigh, pulls you closer.
his gaze flits to yours, glacier eyes melting under the weight of his desire.
you cum with a whine of his name, a plea for him to stop, to give you more, to please please please, keep touching you.
his eyes roll in the back of his skull at that. at the sight of you, lips parted in sinful euphoria, head thrown back under a tidal wave of pleasure. more. he needs more.
he grasps your hand, presses it against the length of his clothed cock, hard, throbbing, yearning for your touch.
“will you have me?”
“yes.”
as it was meant to be. him and you, bodies pressed so close nothing could come between the two of you, your nails digging in his back as he eases himself into you with a low hiss of pleasure.
him, pressing his lips in the crook of your neck, teeth nibbling at the tender flesh as his hips slowly rock into you.
“mine,” he growls, forehead against yours, picking up his pace until you’re gasping for breath. “mine.”
you close your fingers around his. press a kiss to his lips - you’re so full, so delectably full, your legs crossing over his lower back, driving him closer still.
his teeth break your skin, your lips painted over in blood. the sight has him moaning, reaching out between your legs to rub at your clit until you’re keening his name.
his release follows yours - he groans your name in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering madly against yours.
your breaths mingle - two pieces of the same puzzle slotting against one another. complete. you’re whole, pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his cock settled snugly in your pussy.
you can almost feel it, the satisfied smile of the reverend mother. an heir has been secured, deep in the confines of your womb, growing, second after second. a boy - the kwisatz haderach.
that wretched eons long plan doesn’t matter. not now, not when you run your knuckles against the sharp edge of his jaw, marveling at him.
“mine,” you mutter.
taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire
#feyd rautha x y/n#obticeo writes#feyd rautha x reader#feyd rautha x you#dune#dune x you#dune x reader#dune smut#feyd rautha smut#bald freak supremacy
462 notes
·
View notes
Text
With This Final Breath
Pairing: Male!Siren x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, choking, anatomy difference, possessiveness, hissing/growling, size difference, magic voice, praise, fear play, tentacles (choking/gripping), questionable ending
Word count: 1.5k
Ao3
A/N: Bold of me to write this when I suffer from thalassophibia. But I am dedicated! This is part of my monster event. Very late but I wasn't inspired before now.
There was something that beckoned you to swim out under the moonlight, past the safety line, to dive into the clear blue depths of the clear ocean. It was certainly dark down there, you could clearly see what was in front of you. But even through the water you could still hear it, the sweet, deep male voice singing to you.
"What a sweet angel fish I've caught this time." His voice echoed all around you, scaring you backwards and into... something, someone hard. A shark? No, you could feel the length of a body, a muscular body right behind you. "Careful. Don't drown on me."
Drown? Oh god, wait... you were underwater... alone with... who exactly?
On instinct you jerked away and up to the surface, taking a breath when you broke through, the cool night air clearing your head. You took in your surroundings. You were pretty far from the beach but, "I can make it there."
"Leaving already?" You whirled around, coming face to face with a... man? He looked like a man, a slightly blue tinted one but a man nonetheless, with long flowing midnight blue hair and deep red eyes. All red. But that wasn't what got most of your attention, it was the tail making a splash in the water, with a wide almost shark like fin. "You look sick. I don't want you to be scared of me."
No, but you were, you were so scared in fact that your body looked up looking at his sharp teeth that you started sinking under the surface again.
"Oh no you don't, not under my watch." He swam above you, his body lighting up in a bright white bioluminescent light. His whole body was now visible to you, the swarm of tentacles that floated in place of his left hand creeping close to you, wrapping around your hips, your forearms, your thighs, gentle as they pulled you close, "It's alright human." His lips overlapped against yours, something almost gelatin like filling your mouth, small like candy as you swallowed it down. You pushed him away, expecting to be drowning the second you did.
The feeling never came. You could breathe, you could open your eyes under water. You looked at him with wide eyes, still scared but also in awe.
"Can I-?" Before you even got the words out you realized that yes, you could talk underwater too. Was this a dream? Yeah it had to be, otherwise how could this be real? How could he be real? How could he smile at you like that, so softly. You needed to make sure.
You reached out, your hand slow in the water, to touch his face. He did a playful bite at you at which you jerked back, making him laugh in that melodious voice that drew you here in the first place. Hang on a second here, why were you in the middle of the ocean anyway?
"Why am I here? Are you... gonna eat me?" The fear was back, surrounding you again.
"If I wanted a snack I would have hunted the many fish in the ocean. No, I noticed you earlier in the day you see. You seemed like you belonged in the ocean, so natural, so talented, so beautiful." His hand was so cold on your cheek, the webbed fingers brushing your jaw line, down to your shoulder, "I simply had to get a closer look."
A closer look didn't sound like a bad idea actually, you had to know what you were dealing with. You circled him, taking note of his flowing hair, his tail moving back and forth, the big, sharp looking fin on his muscular back. He wasn't moving, letting you look all you want, but also not showing you the widening grin on his face which turned back into an innocent, if slightly cocky smile when you faced him again. "See? Not that scary am I, angel fish?"
Oh he was. Scary as fuck. And equally as hot.
"You just wanted to talk to me? Couldn't you have done that in a less creepy way?" Provoking him might not have been the best idea, he was definitely faster then you under water. But it seemed to make him happy, make him laugh.
"Apologies. I'll do so in the future. But I didn't just want to talk. I wanted to see if you were well suited, or if I had made a mistake by calling you out here." His smile widened, teeth flashing at you, yet his eyes were comforting, you barely even noticed the tentacles wrapping around you again, "Human, I want to make you mine."
At those words you felt them, around your neck, coiling slowly, moving, but not squeezing, "Y-Yours?"
"Mhm. All mine." With his hand he reached behind you to untie the top part of your swim suit, letting it float up. For whatever reason you offered no resistance, to entranced by his voice, "You see all of me, may this prince see all of you?"
You blinked rapidly, "Pr-prince?!"
"Oh." He chuckled, "Yes, my father is one Four Ocean Kings. And I believe I've found my treasure. So I ask again, may I see all of you?" He inched closer, his lips a breath away from yours as his hand moved down your body, fingering at the ties of your swimsuit.
"You may." The reply was breathy, your body jerking forward in his pull as you found yourself naked.
"What a divine sight before me. I'm sorry, I can't hold back any longer, this is all the strength that I have angel fish. I'm sorry." He pulled you close with force, tentacles opening your legs, lips on yours to swallow your moans as a thick, white cock pushed its way inside you. It was of an average human size thank god but you could feel a slightly rougher texture. "How? How can you be so warm on the inside? I feel like my cock is melting in your depths."
You tried to wrestle free of his tentacles, not to get away but to move against him. No budging, but he did allow you to breathe still, to clench and unclench your fists and moan as loud as you wanted. He moved you up and down slowly like you were but an object for his pleasure while his hand caressed your face and his eyes continued to roam and drink in the sight of your body.
His eyes light up when they landed on your exposed clit, "What's this?" His fingers touched it experimentally, just a light tap and your hips jerked into his hand. "Fascinating. Siren females don't have this. Does it feel good when I touch it?"
"Feels good. Too good. I can show you how." He looked at you, a little skeptical as he released one of your hands, the tentacle wrapping around your hips instead. "I like it like this." You showed him your finger circling the small bug, rough, then up and down and then sliding the entire length of your finger along.
"That- that feels, I can feel your walls tightening." He hissed, cock going rigid, moving you faster, up and down, teeth snapping at the water, creating small bubbles, "Let me try." His movements were frantic as his hand joined yours, trying to mirror your movements. It was so sloppy on his part but the combination of his fingers working together with yours, his tentacles beginning to grope your breasts and tighten around your neck while they rocked you on his cock was enough to send you over the edge. You saw white as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, his following closely behind.
His came when he pulled you close, abandoning your clit in order to wrap his arm around you and bring you against his chest. Oh, he was actually pretty big compared to you now that you were this close.
When you started to relax around him his tentacles let go of your throat, leaving a circular imprint behind. It swirled around, under your chin and brought you into a sweet kiss as your mind began to clear from your post orgasm haze. He pulled out, gooey cum spilling from you, pure white and floating and dissolving in the ocean around the two of you.
"Thank you for this experience human." He whispered into the top of your head, lips pressing against you for a moment, "I would... like to show you something as well. My home, its further down, way down in fact. But you don't have to worry." His cold lips and fangs grazed your ear, "I'm here. As long as you're by my side I'm the only person in this, and every other ocean, allowed to touch you." A surge of his protectiveness lulled you against him, that sweet voice making you lightheaded all over again, body tingly against his own. "Will you follow me there?"
"Yes." It was the only thing you could speak out. When he pulled back he gave you another soft smile, another soft kiss before descending with you into the cold, dark depths.
#monster x reader#monster boyfriend#monster love#monster smut#monster x human#monster x girl#monster x you#terato#monster fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kinktober day 23: tentacles + ovi + Fyodor
Pairing: Mer!Fyodor X afab!gn!reader [3k]
Warnings: smut, monsterfucking, oviposition, breeding(?), overstimulation, cervix fucking, tentacles, I mention reader's tits a lot for someone who hates his own, clit sucking, nipple pain
Additional notes: Remember kinktober? Haha, yeah. Anyway, emphasis on the fact that this focuses on the female aspects of the reader, there's especially a lot of mention of their breasts. Fyodor is not named.
It drags you under before you even have time to scream.
Water rushing around you, ears popping painfully, struggling uselessly as something much, much larger and stronger pulls you through the salty depths. This is it, you're going to die here. Your throat burns, your foggy mind fighting the instinct to gasp in a huge mouthful of air because you know there's none to find.
Just as you give up something throws you out of the water, your head spinning, arms reaching out for purchase. There's salt in your eyes, your nose, your throat, making you cough and hack. It's a cave, and your feet don't touch the bottom. You float there, observing the surroundings, listening to the eerie quiet that's only broken by dripping water and your own tiny, insignificant splashes. Strangely enough you can just about manage to see through the darkness, the black rocks of the cave lit up from below.
From.... below?
You look between your kicking legs and scream, making a break for the edge of the cave. Something silent and huge is circling underfoot, not even cutting the water as it moves, skin glowing so brightly that it lights up the room. There's no time for you to escape, your puny human limbs not adapted to the water even though your panicked movements make you fast.
A long, flexible limb wraps around your ankle and sneaks up your calf, dragging you back to the centre of the cave despite your frantic kicking and scratching. Your nails slide right off the rubbery skin and another limb, another tentacle, grabs hold of your other leg and also holds it still. More of them snake around your hips, your waist, your arms and then finally the creature rears its head out of the black water.
It's a man. Sort of, anyway. Heavy lidded violet eyes with slit pupils regard you with interest, hair as black as oil falling around his face and shoulders. Thin lips and brows and a delicate nose, three huge slits on either side of his neck. Gills. He looks thin, skin so pale you can see blue veins pulsing across his chest, narrow shoulders and hips and a boney torso. Instead of legs his hips give way to a huge, bulbous sort of growth out of which come numerous limbs. Long, thick, wriggling tentacles, a beautiful midnight blue that almost seems to blend with the surrounding darkness, churning the water beneath and lifting you up effortlessly. You tug again, and it does nothing.
He leans closer and you freeze in fear, going rigid. The creature presses a hand against your chest and you realise his hands are webbed, so are his ears. He seems to be feeling out your heartbeat, fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Whatever he finds, he seems satisfied with it. His other hand also goes to your chest and you try to raise your arms to push him away, but are met with thick coils around your wrists that weigh you down.
"Hey, hey!" You say sharply, making the man raise his head. "What are you doing?"
He looks unimpressed, and ignores the question entirely. His hands are boney, spidery, almost human, as cold as the sea itself. They squeeze your sides and prod your stomach while the tentacles raise you so you're hip to eye with the creature and he can get a better look. You're squirming, uncomfortable, but he pays no notice and just feels your hips out, seemingly also satisfied with them.
Tentacles begin to move over you with more purpose now, sliding up your legs and around your shoulders, wriggling under the edges of your swimsuit as you balk and scream obscenities. Your voice echoes off the walls but the man is unfazed, getting under the fabric covering you until it's bulging ridiculously, slimy limbs surrounding your torso. One of the horrid things forces itself into your mouth, hooking its tip into your jaw before sliding down your throat until you can barely breathe, muffling your noises.
All of them flex at once and your swimsuit rips at the seams, falling to the water in tatters. Two deft tentacles circle your chest, weighing your tits and squeezing them curiously. You yell around the appendage in your mouth, kicking your legs and trying to slap them away, to cover yourself up; but the fat, squirming limbs are as strong as they are flexible. The man they're attached to looks on with a sinister sort of satisfaction on his face, grinning as your breasts are pressed together and kneaded. Your choked insults are simply answered with a few clicks and pops from him before he reaches out and pinches your nipple, tugging on it painfully and ignoring your fruitless struggle.
...Something strange is happening, gradually pressing against the edges of your consciousness. The slick coating his tentacles soaks into your skin, leaving a cool, almost tingling sensation as they writhe and constrict. The one deep in your throat is wriggling, teasing your gag reflex and making you swallow around it, something almost salty sliding deep into your stomach and muddling your senses. The smooth, powerful motions almost feel like a hug, and the suckling and squeezing is causing heat to pool shamefully in your stomach. Your wide eyes meet his and he stares back with a facsimile of a smile on his face, something too wide and stiff and full of teeth. Something intelligent. His human half is bent over you while the animal portion keeps coiling around you, exploring every inch of skin.
His hand shoots out and grabs your jaw, a move that could be almost tender if it wasn't for the strength of his grip, the vicious way his claws curl around your face. He seems to be almost pretending, imitating the gesture. Violet eyes peer into your own, watching as you gag and struggle weakly, glittering with curiosity and a tinge of malice. This thing knows what's happening. He can feel your struggle getting weaker as your limbs grow heavy, eyelids dropping. You're suddenly very aware of the icy water and the slick glide of those thick limbs against your bare skin, the ones around your hips, the ones attaching themselves to your inner thighs with vicious suckers, pulling your legs apart in midair. You thrash weakly, a fly caught in a spiderweb, looking into the monster's eyes and finding no sympathy.
The suckers on your thighs tighten, making you mewl against your will. It almost feels like you're drunk, pins and needles running all over your numb skin, each movement of the tentacles making you shudder. The man's eyes narrow, looking satisfied with your reaction and your defeated expression. He creeps closer to you, and that's when you finally notice the cocks between his legs. Two of them, dyed the same deep shade as his tentacles and bobbing menacingly, their tapered heads already leaking in anticipation. The top one is oddly swollen at the base, almost flushed, bulging with…. something. You try to struggle, but by this point you're so wrapped up in the monster's limbs that you can't move at all. And whatever has happened to your body is making you embarrassingly eager to know more about the intimidating appendages, your entire consciousness narrowing down to how painfully empty you feel and how big and inviting his cocks look. They're far bigger than any human ever could be, and he seems to have noticed you staring because he smirks, one of his hands wrapping around the top one and stroking it slowly. You can't help but moan around the tentacle in your mouth, but only a strangled gurgle comes out.
The man seems to accept this, rubbing the tip of one of the dicks against your cunt. It's cold, and he doesn't waste any time in forcing it in. You scream as best you can, trying to thrash around as the thick appendage invades your walls, stretching you painfully and bumping right against your cervix. He looks so smug, as if he can feel the mixture of pain and pleasure running through your veins right now and how it's clouding your senses. He starts moving immediately, and to your horror you discover you're so wet that it doesn't even hurt, the thick girth dragging smoothly along your walls as he sets a quick, steady pace.
His other dick is rubbing against your ass with every thrust, pulsing and leaking against your skin and lighting every one of your nerves on fire. The tentacles don't help, groping your hips and arms and tits hard enough to hurt, suckling mercilessly on your nipples as you're split open on the creature’s cock. He seems to have angled his tip perfectly so that it hits your cervix every time, making you twitch in pain. Slowly, with every thrust, the tight ring of muscle is beginning to open up and let his cock pierce right through to your womb.
The tentacle in your mouth retreats and you choke on your spit, trying to cry out and gasp for breath at the same time. The creature's eyes never leave your face, and you swear he looks even more pleased with himself as tears begin to pour down your face. You can't even think about crying for help, you can barely think at all, your mind too addled by the delicious stretch of your walls. The tentacle that was just in your mouth smears a warm mess of slime and your own drool across your cheek and chest, adding to the overstimulation as it cools on your skin. You can taste salt every time you gasp for air.
Something squirms over your cunt and you cry out in shock and arousal as another tentacle fastens itself onto your clit, beginning to suck gently. The stimulation makes your cunt leak even more, clenching painfully around the thick girth splitting you in two. The man hisses, stilling for a second as a particularly harsh spasm makes you too tight to let him move. His violet eyes are glued to your pussy, to the way it swallows his cock with every thrust. It's milking him so nicely. He puts one of his hands on your lower stomach, drawing his hips back slowly and leaving you clenching around nothing, before slamming back in brutally fast. You howl in pain, trying uselessly to kick him away, but your cry quickly melts into a whimper as the sucker on your clit begins to work its magic again.
Your walls are pulsing and there's a telltale heat swirling low in your stomach. Through your shudders and the squirmy mess of arms assaulting every inch of bare skin, you notice that the man's head is bowed and his long, spindly hands are on your hips. The tendrils begin to move erratically, jerking and twitching across your body, countless suckers fastening onto your skin and making it sting all over. He's close, and to your lingering embarrassment so are you, even with the pain from your tender cervix being pried apart and a far too big cock stretching you out.
Your eyes unfocus and the cold, slimy tip of a tentacle prods your tongue as your mouth falls open. You feel a powerful spasm in your cunt, the creature's cock pulsing rhythmically and almost seeming to swell a little. To your confusion and horror, the tapered head is lodged deep into your womb, prying your cervix open just enough to make space, and you can't move away. Something strange is happening, an alien sensation invading your womb as the monster clutches your shoulders tight and his hips twitch, messy, clearly pushing something into you. His pretty violet eyes are shut tight, dark hair sticking to his cheeks as he leans in close. It feels almost romantic, you think, the notion breaking through your addled brain. That would have terrified you a few minutes before, but now you can't bring yourself to care even as your tummy swells with an unknown, bumpy substance, something almost jelly like. Your orgasm crashes into you almost without warning, setting all your nerves alight despite the concern of your swelling stomach, making you moan loudly. It echoes in the damp cave, your own cry coming back to you amidst all the lewd slaps of skin on skin.
As you tip your head back and whine, shaking with the aftershocks, the creature pumps his hips a few times to finish draining himself into you. One of his hands presses lightly on the bump, massaging it in circles. An odd chirp comes from his mouth, and he pulls out without a warning. You shudder, empty cunt clenching uselessly, suddenly feeling too empty and yet oddly full. There's no time for confusion though, because when you look down you're met with the sight of the monster gripping his second cock, the first one lying on his stomach and contrasting beautifully with his pale skin.
The second one is thinner but no less impressive, and missing the swollen knot the first one had. He wastes no time sheathing himself inside you, but he doesn't move just yet. You groan, confused, peering at the creature to see what he's doing, but he pays you no mind. Your walls are tender and his swift pace makes you flinch, letting out a quiet sob that he ignores. He seems to be panting hard, resting while buried deep in your cunt after that initial stroke. His tentacles are mostly still, twitching occasionally but keeping you steady in midair.
Cold hands find your breasts, the monster’s boney fingers pinching your nipples cruelly. You yelp, trying to pull your arms free so you can hit him, but of course nothing happens. He looks up, still panting, and smiles. He's slightly red, his once pale cheeks now a soft pink. It does little to soften the cruel glee on his face, the sharp teeth peeking out from behind his lips, the cold water dripping down his hair and over his shoulders. He squeezes the tender buds again and you groan, pussy clenching involuntarily. To your dismay the monster makes a sound similar to a purr, clicking his tongue and pulling harshly on your tits. He likes to see you in pain, or maybe he likes the way you twitch and tighten around him, milking him.
Slowly, carefully, he begins to thrust into you, shallow moves that drag his heavy cock against your abused insides. Every time he bottoms out you get your nipples pinched painfully hard, forcing your cunt to tighten around him and making him growl and chirp in obvious satisfaction. The muscles in your abdomen spasm with his movements, your head tossing from side to side. Every steady thrust jolts you in the tentacles’ grip, your skin still buzzing from whatever the creature had rubbed into you, but you dimly notice one of the tentacles slithering back up to your clit.
It sneaks under the hood and fastens directly onto the tender nub, sucking and pulling harshly enough to make you wail in a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation. Of course this makes you clench and the monster groan, his thrusts speeding up and becoming more forceful, the tip of his cock ramming against your cervix as he angles his hips just right. He's not really pulling on your nipples anymore, instead grabbing hard onto your chest to support himself as his human half curls into you, his teeth almost grazing your cheek. The man's breath is cold, uneven, he's slowly angling your hips up so that your legs are over his hips, dangling uselessly.
You close your eyes, hands balling up into fists as his pace stutters and the slimy tendrils holding you up go stiff and tighten. The squeeze almost hurts but it's overshadowed by the feeling of his cock stilling deep inside you and twitching powerfully, right before a strange warmth floods your lower stomach. A final harsh suck from the tentacle fastened to your clit makes you cum again, your vision whiting out as all you go rigid in his grip. The waves of release coupled with his cum swelling your your womb is overwhelming, more intense than anything you've experienced in your life. The man makes a strange, choked off sound, almost a moan, resting his forehead against you collarbone as his hips roll a few more times, then still.
Dazed, you let yourself go limp in his hold, only managing a tired groan when he slowly pulls out of you. Your stomach feels bloated and tender, your cunt drooling, slowly letting some of the creature’s cum slip out. He squeezes your tits one last time, churning the water beneath you as he moves you to the edge of the cave and leaves you on a ledge. The stone is cold and wet, way too hard after the squishy, yielding grip of his tentacles. Violet eyes observe you with satisfaction, cold hands palm the bump in your tummy and slip quickly into your cunt before retreating. You press one of your own hands, weak and shaky, against the taut skin and feel a strange bumpiness. Eggs, you realise. Like frogspawn, but larger and firm enough that you can just about feel them if you press down hard. Your mind is too sluggish to process the information, so you just rub the spot in a bit of a haze while keeping an eye on the monster. His human half is out of the water, supported on pale, skinny arms while he watches you intently.
Your hand drops with a sigh. You feel…. tired, cold, uncomfortably full in a way you're not used to. The monster gives you a quick once over, from your slack face to your gaping, messy cunt, tracing your stomach one last time. He slips into the sea without a sound, and vanishes in the dark water.
#fyodor.bsd#fyodor x reader#sea monster fyodor x reader#mer!fyodor#fyodor smut#fyodor x y/n#shout out to Flora bc reading that first bit of your series gave me the push i needed to finish this#mer fyodor#kinktober 2023
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
Yo! Adrian
Pairing: König x Reader
Summary: You’re determined to find out why everyone thinks König is so scary, afterall he’s just some guy that’s taller than most people right? He’s probably harmless! Well, he’s a little scary, but you still like him anyway.
(No use of y/n or mention of gender/race)
AN: It's finally here, the LAST CHAPTER! What a journey this has been from a silly little oneshot to a whole fucking series that so many people have sent me so many kind messages and fanart of 💕 I'm so excited that I get to share this with you, and I'm so glad that I've been able to complete it and give you guys a full story. Thank you so so much to everyone that has sent me their support and kept the story going. Love you all sm, please let me know what you think whn you're done. I can't wait to see your reactions ✨🥰
Part 10 of A Rocky Start - Full Masterlist Here
-☠️-
You swore you could feel König’s fingers caressing your face.
You could feel his heavy digits tracing over every tiny pore and for a second you could breathe calmly, you felt light. In the shadow of his phantom’s presence you smiled airily and thought of better times. It was as if a rift had opened in the room and you were no longer part of it, you were somewhere far away and lying in an unfamiliar bed, naked under the pale sheets in the shine of moonlight.
Just like always, you fell into each other's arms and drank in each other’s bodies just as greedily as the last time you’d met. His heady piney scent would soothe your tired nerves and his hands would roam your body, chasing off every stray piece of worry that dared linger. It was your memories of comfort that you were clinging onto the most, holding them high above your head as you sunk into the depths of your mind, cold flesh tingling with the thought of König’s fiery warmth.
You weren’t in some hole in the middle of nowhere. You were with him.
There’s nowhere you can be sent to that I won’t find a way to reach you.
You kept repeating those words over and over in your mind, throat constricting as you remembered those whispered promises that he’d given to you in your bunk. He was with you, you and he were joined together inextricably. It didn’t matter if he was actually there or if you were simply losing your mind to lack of sleep and sustenance, he was with you always.
All of a sudden König’s fingers stroked a wave across your cheek, a thin airy line that swung across your face like a breeze. It made you frown. What was he doing? Was he playing a game with you? It was so late, you both needed to sleep. Why was he doing this?
When you opened your eyes again, it was as if you’d been woken into hell. Rousseau grinned down at you, his metal pole hanging loosely from his hands, shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Reality was breaking down in front of your eyes, pieces of it glitching in your peripherals. The bedsheets and moonlight fell away and all you were left with was your dirty sheet in the middle of a crusty smelling shithole bunker.
“Where’s… wh- where’s König?” you croaked.
Getting those words out was like fighting through a sandstorm to talk. Your throat had never been so scratchy, and your head was so clouded and heavy. Everything was such a jumble you couldn’t understand how you were lying with König one moment and then back with Rousseau again tje next, it didn’t make sense.
“What’ve you done with him?” you cried, swaying with the effort it took to speak. “Where’s König!”
Rousseau shook his head and nudged your shoulder with his weapon, the thick metal bar barely even prodded you and you were sent spiralling. Your body tipped like a glass full of water and you spilled onto the floor, lurching onto your hands and knees as soon as you were able. Though you were shaking helplessly even as you steadied yourself, it felt like your muscles were rapidly atrophying in real time, tearing apart and wasting away like bean bag stuffing pouring from a tear.
“You’re not doing very well, hm?” Rousseau taunted, walking around your pathetic crawling form. “There is no König here. Just you and the Captain, Sergeant.”
The way he said König, it sounded like a curse.
You shrank back at his spitting venom and swallowed the bile that threatened to erupt upward from your throat. It was all too much. You couldn’t understand where you were anymore, couldn’t remember what was happening.
You closed your eyes and opened them again, executing the world’s slowest blink. Finally looking around properly, you saw Rousseau and when you swivelled you saw his faithful guard dogs, the men that always seemed to haunt the corners of your vision. A further glance had you finding Price on his knees, swaying gently as he tried miserably to stay upright. He was dancing to the same sick death drum that you were.
Your eyes lit up in recognition.
“You were…I was…you were going to kill me,” you said dumbly, holding your head as you rose to your knees. “Why do you keep playing with us like this?”
Rousseau stood in front of you and tilted his head, watchful dark eyes cascading down your shivering body. It was like looking back at a bear. A vicious giant towering above you, threatening to charge at any second and shred you to pieces. Though he never did. He always stopped just before he could truly break you.
Break your body anyway. You were more convinced by the day that your mind was gone.
“Are you really so eager to die, Sergeant?” He questioned.
His voice was light, playful as a cat batting a mouse around.
“You recorded a video teeing up for a final death blow…It doesn’t look very good if I’m said to be alive after that. Makes your threats look empty.”
Rousseau raised an eyebrow. His gaunt features slackened, but he didn’t look as angry as one might expect a scorned warlord to look. It seemed more like he was considering his next move carefully. Probably gauging what you could take after everything you’d endured already.
“You think I don’t mean to kill you?”
His voice had a harder edge to it now.
“I think that you’ve taken far too long to do it.”
It was true. As much as you still clung to the hope of rescue, you knew well enough that being constantly on the move between decrepit holes and dank pits meant that you weren’t going to be easily tracked. The only other release you could be certain of was death, and at the stage you were at, it felt like it’d be a mercy.
Your stomach constantly ached with clawing hunger, the kind that had you hallucinating little hands inside your belly - scraping at the lining just to try and find scraps. Your lips were dry and cracked and your eyes were always struggling to stay open. Your lids weighed so heavy on you, your entire body did in fact. It was becoming more and more of a chore just to keep breathing, nevermind trading barbs with the torturer in chief.
Soon you’d be as out of it as Price was.
“You are a government dog. All you know is ‘go fetch’,” Rousseau said eventually, straying from your side and leisurely working his way over to Price. “You do things quick and dirty. We are playing the long game, I am building something, I’m heading a revolution. Those aren’t built on quick decisions - no, they are chess moves. I am just aligning my pieces.”
He came to a stop behind Price’s back, his long legs were almost touching Price’s bare body, his black trousers were almost the same colour as some of your poor captain's bruises. Rousseau still held the length of metal piping in his hands, he was swinging it gently in his grip, meaningfully gazing at you and down to the bat. You stared between them from under your hooded eyelids and licked your lips.
What was he going to do?
You winced when you heard the crack.
“Sneak,” Price gasped.
He tumbled forward, his back crumbling as he’d taken on another hit. The Captain's mangled body was only getting worse by the hour, his cuts were weeping again and his bruises looked like animal markings, like something that had become inherently part of him. You had no idea how he was still going.
Even still, you flew forward and urged him up, looking into his tired eyes and trying to coax him back. At least if he was up he couldn’t be trampled. You’d learned that lesson the hard way.
Price gripped your arm and you huffed under the weight, almost screaming as you tried to keep his body aloft with what little strength you had left. His roughened fingers were scraping at your papery thin skin and you clenched your teeth while you fought to balance him. It was getting harder and harder to set him right with every time he fell, but no matter what you’d keep doing it.
Even while you’d gone against his orders he still held you up and made you keep fighting. It was only fair that you did the same in return.
“Price? Price, are you ok? Price?”
He took a moment to reply. His body wobbled a little, threatening to tip again, but he righted himself in the last minute, his scruffy jaw almost swinging as he gasped in a breath.
“Sneak, you’ve gotta shut the fuck up,” he coughed.
You almost laughed despite the situation.
“Affirmative,” you grimaced, resting against him as you managed to work out a delicate balancing act.
“Wait a minute now, Captain,” Rousseau tutted, signalling for his men to come forward. “You should welcome your Sergeant’s words. I’ve spared Sneak for now, but the next video is your final as a pair. I have something special planned…but all in good time. For now you can go back to your crate, dogs.”
The two of you stared at him, looking up through your tired gazes. The news didn’t feel shocking, you’d expected to die minutes ago so you hadn’t been holding out hope to steal time for much longer. It almost felt like a relief for a moment to know that you could be certain of something.
Though the relief didn’t last long. Not when his men finally reached you both and yanked you apart, dragging you along the floor like a couple of retired mannequins. Your skin burned with the familiar feeling of loose gravel and it didn’t take long until you were seething, clawing at the man’s gloved hand just to try and stop his forceful grip. It never ever seemed to help though.
“Try not to get yourself killed from fighting back. It would ruin the plans I have for you, Sergeant!”
The blanket that had previously been slouched on your back was now tangled around your waist. It was gathering itself between your legs and around your hips, snaking around you in a boa like grip. It might’ve felt like a relief earlier on in your time, but you knew well enough the men weren’t bothering about your state of dress, they never did. They would always drag you through the halls kicking and screaming, clothesless and dirty, feral as a child of the forest. Somehow the indignity faded with time, lost to the hurt you were drowning under.
You looked up at the man and his smug bearded face and snarled. You soon took to scrabbling against the floor and trying to get as much purchase as you could. If you fought hard enough maybe you could work yourself into a semi crawl by the his side, relieve the burning of your back and feet. The man wasn’t having it though.
He kicked at your legs and threw your arm away, sending you reeling and knocking into the dark wall by the doorway. Your jumbled head was spinning when you slammed into the concrete. The dim flickering light danced in your eyes and after a few blinks, you regained enough vision to see the man advancing back towards you. You cowered.
You feebly stuck your arms in front of you, blocking your face and hunching up just to try and protect yourself. Even if you thought it was useless, even if you’d tried to do the same thing many times already and failed. You tried anyway.
“You don’t follow orders well, soldier,” Rousseau scolded, voice full of amusement.
He had no idea.
His lackey’s steps barrelled toward you, he shouted something in french and with each ricocheting sound that slapped your ears, you shook like a mast in a storm. You shook, but still you cursed at the man, you cursed at Rousseau and you peaked through your makeshift body shield and cursed at the guard dragging Price away.
No matter what they did to you, you revelled in the fact that one day they would be caught. One day König would catch up to them, he and the remaining numbers in the 141 would crash in and they would draw ten times the blood that Rousseau ever could. They would wreak the kind of revenge you would’ve chewed König out for only months ago.
And you would celebrate it now.
You gritted your teeth and braced, the man was only steps away from you. Rousseau was smirking to himself in the background, metal pipe discarded as he stood with his arms crossed just as casually as if he were catching the tail end of a sitcom. You waited for the hit. You tensed every screaming muscle in your frail body and shut your eyes tight, scrunching your face in full knowing of the hurt you were about to feel.
Your heart beat furiously. You waited.
Boom
The entire room shook and you were sent sprawling and coughing into the smoky darkness. Dust swirled around your eyes and seconds later the room went completely pitch dark. You blinked.
Was this another of your hallucinations?
Were they really getting that vivid?
This felt real.
All of a sudden you were being yanked up and you screamed. Your arm felt like it had been pulled out of its socket and then replaced about five thousand times. It was sheer agony. Though you didn’t have the strength to fight the force. Instead you went along with it, crying out at whoever it was that was taking you further into the darkness.
“Get the fuck off me!”
“Shut the fuck up!”
The voice confirmed it. The voice and the heavy metal weapon that struck your jaw.
Rousseau had taken you from your heap and was now ragdolling through the doorway, stealing you both through the trembling tunnels like a wraith. You had no idea how he was able to navigate the place so smoothly with a fighting captive and sheer darkness and yet he was doing it anyway. Unfortunately for you.
“Come! Gather the Captian!”
More explosions sounded overhead, gunshots rung out like hailstones hitting the ground, all muted and dull. Somewhere up above you there was a fucking massive firefight. The realisation had you grinning from ear to ear, even as blood sluiced from your split mouth.
With the very little brain capacity you had, even you were able to figure out who it was that was up there.
Your stomach was churning and your legs were barely able to crank themselves one in front of the other, but still you knew that König was close. You swore you could sense him even through the concrete. Somewhere in the battering of rock and scream of metal you could sense the six foot, ten inches of vengeance tearing up the ground overhead.
“König,” you choked.
Maybe you were going to make it.
You were tugged furiously forward.
“No one can help you now. Snivelling like that will only make your death worse” Rousseau seethed.
You frowned, stumbling forward only moments later. You tripped over a gap in the flooring and pinwheeled forward, falling through the darkness and onto the ground once again.
You shook your head, but before you could even think of recovering, you were blinded by a sudden shock of light. You let out a howling wail and covered your eyes, reeling as you tried to deal with the shock of it all.
Your head was pounding, the gunshots in the distance were relentlessly clashing with the swelling in your head. Your eyes felt like they might roll backwards through their sockets. Your nose was overwhelmed with thick dust, your throat was clogged with it too. Your ears were practically shrivelling with the wall of sound.
All of it combined was sensory overload.
You blacked out for a moment, temporarily lost. You saw König through flashes, but you knew it wasn’t really him. It couldn’t be. König wouldn’t just stand there, he’d be pulling you up into his arms and taking you away. He wouldn’t watch on as you were dragged around in that new level of hell.
You blinked back through the spots and the flashes of unreality and you were greeted with the sight of a union jack unfurling high above you. The fabric unfurled like an angry ghost and your eyes were filled with dancing red white and blue. The lines didn’t seem to stay still, they were crossing and uncrossing, blurring softly in and out of focus.
“What…what are you-”
“What did I tell you? Shut the fuck up!”
The metal pipe came down on your head once more and you gasped at the pressure, losing the breath from your lungs. You sprawled out like a bearskin rug and pasted yourself to the floor, watching dead eyed as Price was thrown by your side. He was equally as jelly-boned as you.
“What are you doing?” you whispered, too done in to follow the directions you were given.
Rousseau musn’t have heard you though. You followed the swelling blob that you assumed to be him and watched as it adjusted something and then gathered something else. Fuck. You were too fried to see what was happening. Everything was tinged in red, white and blue, nothing was solid, nothing felt real.
Well, except maybe the blood that was still threatening to drown you. You hacked away at that and sobbed lightly, feeling the tears dribbling pathetically down your cheeks. Somewhere in the back of your mind you realised that you weren’t going to live through this afterall. Even if you did, was there going to be much of you left?
Rousseau only confirmed your suspicions as he marched forward and tugged you up by your neck. You screamed and flailed with every little shred of energy you had left, but still it wasn’t enough. He was strangling you with something, wrapping something around your throat while he batted off your hands.
“No! No! No! No! N-” you choked until you couldn’t anymore.
The thing was tightened around you and soon he didn’t have to hold you anymore. You gazed upwards and watched in horror as a long snaking line of rope was yanked upward - with you along with it.
The choking and hacking only got worse from that point on. Your throat was constricting, you were flapping like a headless chicken. The pressure was threatening to burst your eyeballs, but even still you were cursed to see, cursed to watch.
Price was being dragged the same as you, muscles twitching and head swaying like a lolling buoy. The camera was in front of you both, red light blinking ominously from the other end of the room. Rousseau was swinging his arms around and he was proselytising as always, sounding somehow even more passionate than usual. His voice was screeching and booming all at once, it filled the room and attacked the camera, it sent you swinging in his grasp.
“...and now this is what they die for! They may capture me, but they will never prevail! They will only turn to ash, while we burn on forever!”
Out of the corner of your bulging eyes you could see the flag behind you set alight. You gawped at it like a flapping fish, tongue flailing around uselessly even as you continued to fight the rope. It was no use. Your vision was almost completely fading now, black was corrupting the edges and inch by inch it was taking over completely. Your body was losing its strength. Your arms fell limply to their sides.
“Nein!”
A scream of terrible anguish filled your senses. Your body slumped down. The darkness in your eyes receded for a moment.
Boots filled your eyes, you coughed roughly upon seeing them, shocked as the two sets of feet got all too close to coming down on your head. The leading set stopped in their tracks and turned, forcing the other set of feet to back away before any final blow could come. You closed your eyes a moment and focused on hauling in tiny lungfuls of air, coughing like an old hag with every dying choke, but nevertheless you took those painful breaths in like they were bitter medicine.
“You will pay! I will rip you apart, I will stick a knife through every nerve you have! You will suffer for what you’ve done, you self righteous sack of shit!”
You widened your eyes and even through the terrible pain you were fighting, you roared through it and forced your head up. You knew that voice, you knew that high pitched screaming growl. The sight of him only confirmed it.
Was it really…were you dreaming again?
You blinked furiously and choked on a sob. Please don’t be dreaming, please don’t be dreaming. The mantra filled your mind and expanded into every little piece of you. Even through the dizziness and the labouring of your struggling body, you could recognise that man out of anywhere, you could’ve recognised him in the pitch black of the blown out tunnel.
König was laying into Rousseau with the fury of a wounded lion. He rammed him into the wall and forced his head into the concrete over and over, the sound of sickening smack managed to break through the barrier of fuzz in your ears. It managed to break through König’s garbled screaming. Even in your broken state the site brought on an unwilling half smile that came slinking sickeningly from your subconscious.
“Don’t you dare move, don’t you dare do anything but keep breathing! You don’t get to leave this world until I make you regret ever seeing the light of your first day! Do you hear me? Your fight is finished!”
König threw Rousseau to the ground and brought his shining black boot hard down into his stomach. Rousseau panted out, a wormy little gasp broke past his lips but nothing more. He was forced to lie flat on the floor, torn between clutching at his cracked head and his flattened belly. The man who had towered over you had finally been brought down, turned into debris.
You could hardly believe it. You couldn’t move for the shock. You just stared at Rousseau, wide eyed, unflinching through the battlefield of pain that raged through every muscle and bone from within you. Somewhere above you were sure you could recognise your name being called, but everything was too fuzzy, the inky darkness was taking over, drawing you into its loving embrace. The dust was settling, your heartbeat was stilling. Everything coalesced into one feeling. Relief.
You’d have never have felt that way before after seeing something so unnecessarily violent, but after all you’d been through… you weren’t so sure you could bring yourself to be upset.
“…Darling please look at me.”
The faint whisper broke through your spaced out sound barrier. It was anguished, the voice it came from was hoarse and panting. So much emotion was poured into it, it couldn’t help but wash away the patina of death’s touch.
“Sneak, it can’t end like this. You told me you would come to Austria, yeah? You said you’d let me show you home. You have lots still to do. Look at me. Look at me! You said we’d make it through together Sneak, I’m not going to let you get away from me, do you hear me? Look at me!”
You forced your eyes to flicker upward, trying in vain to settle them on your saviour. The light in the room was so bright though, and his face- no his mask was so dark. You could only make out blackness and dark streaks of red.
You grit your teeth and shuttered your eyes, blinking a few times until you could see König’s own big wet eyes staring forlornly down at you. You smiled then.
“It..is…you,” you croaked, voice all but useless from your injuries. “Not…dreaming.”
His eyes lit up at your garbled words, the dim blue puddles turned to shining icy lakes. The corners of your mouth lifted heavily into a pained smile. Those eyes didn’t lie, they weren’t figments of your imagination. This was real, you thought to yourself. Even if you might die, you still got to see him again, you got to look into his eyes again and hear his voice and bathe in the warmth of his presence.
“No, you’re not dreaming,” König confirmed, hastily looking from you and to your surroundings, “you can't dream now, you have to listen to me, you mustn't close your eyes. Hold on for me, darling.”
“Kö…Kön-”
You launched into an ugly coughing fit, your head lit up an alarm system. System failure, everything was red. Your concentration broke and already you disobeyed König. You closed your eyes and lost yourself to the hacking and choking. It felt like your lungs were closing, like they were balloons getting filled so completely they might pop. Every nerve, every wound, every cell in your body was on fire.
You just wanted it to end. Why couldn’t the suffering end?
“Shh, c’mon breathe. Darling, breathe for me and take control. C’mon! Breathe for me!”
König drew you into his arms and wrapped something thick and warm around you. It might’ve been a comfort if not for the sparkling firecracker that was being set off in your chest. The endless coughing that was tearing up through your throat.
Tears filled your eyes. No matter how much you wanted to cling to life, if even just for König, you weren’t sure you were strong enough. You weren’t even sure how you’d made it that far to begin with. Raw hope, you’d supposed. Though it didn’t feel like enough anymore. The agony was too much.
“Sneak, you have to hold on,” König pleaded, rubbing his hands as firmly as your battered back would allow. “Please…don’t leave me alone.”
Dammit.
You wheezed and cried, clenching your fists with all your might. Your ears rang with a high pitched sound, something you imagined to be angel screams ripping through your ears. You were turning away from death and running, you were sprinting towards life again, toward the scrabbling ugly beast that ran through the chambers of your crumbling body and clawed down at the walls. Pain.
You gulped in what felt like a litre of air and held on, falling silent for a second until you slowly let it go and felt quiet once again. König’s arms stiffened around you, you could feel his fingers carving grooves into the melted clay of your skin.
“Sneak?”
You opened your eyes again and settled them on König’s, blinking a few times so that he could still see proof of your presence. He didn’t look as relieved as he did the first time, but there was still a glimmer of hope in his face, still detectable no matter how small. His breaths seemed to resume too, you could see the faint puff start up from behind the dark material of his hood.
“Sneak! Price!” A voice broke through the strangled calm.
You blinked again and directed your eyes toward the sound, only daring to crack your neck just a little so that you could see. It was Gaz.. Well, Gaz and Soap. Gaz was thundering over to Price in seconds, squatting over him and grabbing at him, begging him to come to. However Soap was torn, he was frozen in silent horror in the doorway, barely there even as he stood. His face seemed to hollow as he surveyed the two camps that filled the room, though something dark seemed to fill him again when he settled on looking between your groups.
He was looking at Rousseau.
“Soap, help me with Price!” Gaz demanded.
He didn’t listen to Kyle. He ignored him in fact and strided over to the centre of the room, grinding to a stop in front of Rousseau’s unconscious body. He knelt down and checked for a pulse, lips pursing when he must’ve found what he was looking for. Still alive, you guessed.
Why else would he be pulling zip ties from his back pocket? You hazily watched as he tightened them soundly around his wrists and ankles, double checking each one.
“He seems to be alive. How’re they?” Soap grunted, shooting over to Gaz and settling at Price’s other side. “König, how’s Sneak?”
Watching everyone felt like streaming on a bad connection, your vision was lagging, the frames kept flickering. It was a struggle to concentrate on their movements and breathe at the same time. You were faltering toward the darkness again.
“Not good,” König whined, tightening his embrace on you. “Sneak’s fading fast, we have to get out of here and get to a medic.”
“Price isnt much better,” Gaz grunted, huffing as he lifted Price into a standing position.
Just then another shadow filled the room, it grew and stretched from the doorway like a blight.
“Alright, halls are clear. How’re we looking in here?”
Ghost’s gruff voice echoed off the chalky walls. He looked between you all, eyes darting around and checking in on everyone, gun angled low to the ground. He looked like he was ready to destroy an entire army, his eyes were set hard and his stance was tense and ready. He was breathing fast.
“Bad. We gotta go,” Soap answered.
“Fucks sakes, get Price covered will you?” Ghost growled, throwing one of the discarded blankets toward Gaz and Soap.
You looked down at yourself then, only suddenly realising that König had stuck you into one of his sweaters earlier. He must’ve brought it knowing that you’d be naked…he’d seen the videos. A grim thought took hold after. At least if you’d died then, you weren’t dying knowing that everyone was staring at your naked body anymore.
“Wrong thing to fuss over, mate,” Price coughed, finally piping up after his long silence. “We just need to get out of here - quick.”
He sounded better than you for once. They clearly hadn’t been choking him quite so badly during the filming, he sounded reasonably clear after everything he’d been through. He accepted the blanket that was being draped over him nonetheless, but it was hard not to spot the annoyance that overtook him. His brows were knit together tight.
“We’ll get out, Price, we’ve got things handled,” Ghost assured, finally strapping his gun onto his back. “König, is Sneak going to be alright? Can you get them back to transport?”
“Yes,” König answered, his response harsh through his gritted teeth. “I’ll get Sneak back.”
“Good. I’ll handle Rousseau.”
The way that Ghost said that sounded like Rousseau might not make it back to the transport with the rest of you. Not that you could argue sense into him. Your vocal chords were fried. Though even if they weren’t, you couldn’t be sure you’d have much strength to speak. Your body felt like it was balancing on a knife’s edge, swaying too and fro between darkness and life.
Closing your eyes and accepting darkness wasn’t an option however. You had to keep fighting. You kept blinking furiously and breathed in however much air your struggling lungs would allow you to. You focused on your heartbeats, clung to König’s hard body and willed yourself to keep going. You weren’t going to let yourself fade out. You couldn’t face knowing that you’d leave him alone, couldn’t face knowing you’d break your promise.
“Darling, I know you’ve been through so much, but you have to hold on for a bit longer, ok?” König whispered.
His mouth was lowered to your ear. You could feel the roughened material of his hood caressing your skin, lighting a fuse just beneath the surface. You could feel it feathering through to the surface of your skull.
“Ok,” you whispered.
He stood up at that, your single utterance spurring him on and forcing him to go. Unfortunately you didn’t feel quite the same way, in fact you screamed out raggedly the moment you were forced to change position. It had him apologising furiously in your ear, but you could only shake your head at him, urging him on with a faded look.
“Just stay with me, Sneak.”
You nodded your head this time, though it was easier promised than done. You were aware that König was taking you through the shot up hallways, but you knew yourself that you weren’t staying conscious the whole way.
There were entire sections that seemed to be cleared without your knowledge. Some moments you’d only just be turning corners and the next you would bob your head past König’s shoulder and acknowledge an entire straight corridor behind you both.
Hold on.
You continued to blink sleepily and breathe.
Don’t leave me alone.
Time ran like slow honey. Each breath seemed to span hours. König was talking to you, but you weren’t entirely sure what it was he was saying. They seemed like affirmations, you were sure at some point he was promising to buy you things from that deli that you liked in town, but you weren’t awake for long to hear it.
Towards the end you must’ve been gone for a solid few minutes. You went from almost total darkness then violently awoke to four terrified faces surrounding you at once, all bathed in the yellow light of day like they were standing under buttercups. There was a whirring sound all around you and your body felt like it was smothered in bubble wrap. You could hardly feel a thing.
“The drugs must be helping!” Soap shouted hopefully, his voice almost lost under the loud whooshes of air all around you.
Were you on a helicopter?
You blinked up at the ceiling and smiled euphorically, almost laughing until you were forced to choke back more coughs. It forced your face to scrunch and the light around you to shatter.
Why were you coughing? What was happening? Why were you in a helicopter?
Oh no, it’s happening again I’m dreaming, you thought, absolutely horrified at the thought of waking up in the darkness again. It was the only explanation. How did you go from being beaten to being in a helicopter with all of your boys? It simply couldn’t be real.
“Not…real,” you croaked sadly, “Not…real.”
“Sneak, save your throat,” König roared, his voice sounding similarly distant as Soap’s.
His hand felt so heart shatteringly solid, like something that was really there. Hadn’t you felt him like that earlier and awoke to find it was all fake? His voice as well. The realisation brought on a violent sob. You were reduced to tears in seconds, shivering violently into the hard floor beneath you. You just couldn’t tell what was happening anymore, you couldn’t feel anything properly. Your skin felt fuzzy and your mind was filled with pillow stuffing.
“You’re safe, Sneak. It’s alright!”
You jumped when you heard König’s voice come through loud and clear. A weird snug feeling encapsulated your head and you frowned, not understanding that you’d been graced with a pair of headphones. The drugs really were doing their work, but you were too gone to even think of that.
“Sneak hold on for me, ok? Just a little bit longer, my love,” König begged.
His voice was so hoarse and scratchy. However you heard it loud and clear.
“Mm…love you,” you whispered. “Been…dreaming bout…you.”
Even if it was a dream, you were happy to fall into it now. The warm fuzz was spreading further through your veins, cushioning your insides pleasantly from all the misery and strain. The idea of this being one of your last dreams tickled at your brain and you almost felt like giggling again. The sunshine was returning to the edges of your vision.
“Sneak, listen to König and stay awake, alright? Don’t close your eyes Sneak!”
“Soap?” you frowned.
He’d never been in your visions before. Not that you were angry to hear his voice again, but you were thoroughly confused as to why he’d appeared all of a sudden.
“Stop talking, Sneak. Your throat’s fucked.”
Ghost?
“Yeah, you can relax for a little bit, ok? Just concentrate on us.”
Gaz?
“Stop overwhelming them,” Price growled out. “All of you shut it.”
Were they all there? You strained your head, moaning when you couldn’t move very much. Something was preventing you. Were you strapped down? You struggled and huffed out a few heavy breaths and soon found that it was no use. You couldn’t move. You could only face ahead.
That wasn’t so bad either. Soon König was filling your sights and he was leaning above you, floating into frame like an angel. He was wearing his half mask, allowing you to see his uncovered eyes and messy blonde hair. More than ever you wanted to reach out and stroke it, though you knew well enough that you couldn't in your restrained predicament. You pouted.
“Wan…feel…you…”
“Shhh, darling. Don’t talk. I’m right here, just stay with me. Focus on my voice and keep your eyes open. We’re getting you to a hospital, alright?”
You moaned.
Why couldn’t you just reach out and touch him? You wanted to feel his hard body against yours just one more time, even if you weren’t sure you’d feel him properly in your dreamstate. It didn’t matter, you figured you could convince yourself of anything. If only you were enjoying the spread of his thick fluffy blonde locks beneath your fingers. Even the thought was enough to send you tingling.
“That’s right, you’re going to be ok,” König smiled, gently holding your cheek and stroking it. “You’re going to be ok and you’re going to recover. You’re going to get seen to by the doctors, and you’ll rest up and before you know it you’ll be coming home with me. Yeah? You remember our trip? You’re going to be ok. You’re going to come back to Austria with me, ok?”
Finally you were in heaven. It felt so so real. It felt safe. You inhaled deeply and relaxed back, smiling contentedly to yourself. That was everything that you’d wanted for days. You craved loving gestures like a ravenous addict, the yearning had burnt in your heart for days.
“No! Stop that, keep your eyes open!”
You hadn’t even realised you’d closed them. You blinked sleepily and drew in a deep breath, but the yellow light couldn’t compete with the cool darkness. You craved the shade of rest, wanted to nuzzle into the black.
“Darling please. If you fall asleep now you might not wake again and I don’t know what I’ll do. Please! Please stay with me! You told me you wouldn’t leave me again, Sneak, you promised! Stop this!”
You frowned. Through the last dregs of light remaining you could see his eyes streaming with tears. His chest was heaving with effort to keep himself upright. His hand was wrapped around your shoulder now, and his other had joined your other side. König was clutching onto you like a little boy lost, but you could do nothing to help him. You felt so weak. You could barely hold your lids open anymore, never mind comfort anyone.
Why couldn’t he just relax into the warmth like you? You could both lie in the darkness together, bodied fused in the nothing, just floating. You frowned.
Why was he trying to make you hold on? Didn’t he know that if you woke again you’d be back inside the cell, tied up and shivering like a beaten dog. You didn’t want to go back to that. You wanted to stay in your dream forever now. This was it, you decided.
“Nein! Bitte verlass mich nicht. Ich flehe dich an, bitte bleib!” König sobbed, his voice overtaken by sad gasping breaths. “Please…keep your eyes open. Bitte…please…stop…bitte…Nein…”
Distantly you wanted to remind him that he needed to talk to you in English, but even talking seemed like some far off concept.
You shook your head and lay back into the darkness fully, swaying into the eternal night. You wished König wasn’t so sad. You wished your last dream had been a more pleasant one…but it didn’t matter.
It was just a dream.
Don’t cry König… you’ll find me no matter where I go…
-☠️-
I got pain an' experience... an' you got heart -- kinda remind me of Marciano, ya do.
“How’re things? Any progress?”
“I’ve noticed some twitching, but the doctors keep saying I’m seeing things. They keep blaming it on lack of sleep.”
Rocky, when I was fightin' it was the dirtiest racket goin', see. Pugs like me was treated like fightin' dogs -- throw ya in the pit an' for ten bucks ya try to kill each other.
“...I know it’s difficult, but you need to rest too. You’ve been holed up in here alone with these movies on repeat for god knows how long now. It’s not good for you, mate.”
“I don’t need you to tell me what’s good for me. The doctors said familiar people and sounds will help. Rocky will help. Being here will help.”
“I know but...If-”
“Don’t you dare say ‘if’ Sneak wakes up.”
-
Do you feel you have a chance?
Maybe
“König, enough's enough. Get yourself downstairs, jump in that fucking taxi and go to the hotel. Don’t come back till you’ve gotten that wretched smell off you and do something about the bags under your eyes.”
“For the last time I’m not going! I saw a finger spasm. It really moved!”
“I’m sure you’ve seen pink elephants and all sorts by now, sunshine. Fuck off and go look after yourself. You’re no good to anyone like this.”
“No! I won’t do it!”
“For god’s sakes do you want to stink Sneak awake? C’mon, look at yourself. Don’t you think you’ll scare them if they wake up and see you like this?”
“I don’t care! I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care!”
-
Get outta my life both of ya's.
“Look, I know we don’t really get on but…I bought you a tea. Can I sit for a bit?”
“Are you going to try and make me leave too?”
“Jesus, no. Just wanted to come check in. They keep sayin’ you’re seeing movement…”
... It's cold outside, Paulie.
“I am seeing movement. Today it was a blink, I’m sure of it.”
“Well, that’s good, hm? What’re the doctors sayin’? Do they think there’ll be any change?”
“The doctors never want to reveal much.”
He's scum from the corner, I didn't raise ya to hang with no bum!
“Do you ever get tired of Rocky being on all the time? It’d drive me nuts watching the same thing over and over all day.”
“I barely notice it anymore.”
“Huh.”
-
“Sneak please, I’m begging you. You have to give me something…I’ve been watching you for so long now and you’ve never been so still. Just give me something so I can keep going, yeah? Anything…bitte.”
-
“You know I was looking out at the stars a minute ago. It reminded me of when we sat together that night and looked up at the sky together. Remember that, darling? You fixed my hair for me. I could use that again now. I almost broke my comb trying to put it through my hair yesterday. I suppose maybe I should listen to your team, hm? Garrick and MacTavish offered to sit with you for a little while tonight… Maybe you’d like to have some company with someone else for a bit. Maybe you’d be better off without me, hm?”
-
It don't matter if I lose... Don't matter if he opens my head...The only thing I wanna do is
go the distance -- That's all.
“I’ve tried it all and still you won’t wake up for me! What will it take Sneak? What will it fucking take! I’ve done everything and still it isn’t enough! Why am I not enough! Is it because of what I did that day? Is this my penance? Are you running away from me again? Goddamn it, I can’t take this, wake up Sneak! Just open your eyes!”
-
I love you -- I love you -- I love you…
“Fuckin’ hell, is this still on?”
“Ghost!”
“You know why it’s on.”
“Think I could recite it from memory by now.”
“You’re not helpin’, LT. Leave him alone.”
“Fuck me, there’s only so many times you can listen to that numbskull’s voice. Let the arsehole say Yo! Adrian and turn it off.”
“Well then, it sounds like you can’t recite it from memory then.”
“What?”
“‘Yo! Adrian’ - That’s from Rocky two. He didn’t say it in the first one, see? The movie is over now.”
“Oh, fuck me.”
-
“I was thinking earlier…you said before that you hated not knowing my name. You said that I shared everything with you, except that and it…it killed you not to know me completely. I don’t know why I had to be so stubborn about it now, I suppose it's just not a name I like to hear very much. Apart from my mother, it just reminds me of people I’d rather not think about…but I think if i ever heard you say it I’d like it. Do you still want to know it? What if I told you now, would you wake up?”
-☠️-
Swirling mist danced behind your lids. There was an electric current somewhere sparking in a breeze, you were floating along on it, your skin tingled and your spine burned with the fizz of it. You felt yourself twinge, felt a groan building in the back of your throat even though you couldn’t hear it. There was a vibration running down your body, it built and thrummed through you, undulating with the electricity.
You liked it. You enjoyed getting to float freely, loved the temporary bliss of your shadowy escape. There was no pain there in the darkness, just whooshes and whisps of feeling and giddy deliriousness. An endless drifting cycle that felt like it could go on for the rest of time. However implausible that would be to a sane person.
Ultimately it didn’t last forever though - eventually you felt yourself sinking.
You frowned. No. You didn’t want to sink, you didn’t want to go into the depths, you wanted to remain in the clouds. You hated the falling sensation, you hated the burning that built in your throat, hated the aches that broke out all over your back as if it were cracked glass. You especially disliked the crusty feeling behind your eyes.
You scrunched your eyelids furiously, gritting your teeth when you couldn’t relieve the sensation. With a strangled moan and no small amount of effort you cracked your eyes open. Somehow you resisted the urge to scream. Maybe you were too weak to do anything like that just yet, but your body wasn’t above holding it in, waiting to survey your surroundings first.
You blinked furiously into the light. The room you were in was disgustingly fucking bright, clinically bright. The shocking white glare flooded your vision and kept you fluttering your eyelids for a moment, continuously disturbing the layer of gunk that had built in the gloopy corners of your eyes. The world was in stark contrast to the one you’d just emerged from. What was painless and empty before was now bursting to life with sensation.
Fuck.
There were so many acidic scents and weird feelings around you. Your body felt like it was repressurising, your lungs were reacclimating to your surroundings. Through it all, you wanted to reach up and wipe your face so badly. There was no way you could muster the strength though. You didn’t have enough energy, it was all being used toward your growing awareness.
Why were you so weak? Why couldn’t you move? Where were you?
The questions clawed at your mind and had your brain scrambling until it burnt. There weren’t many memories to help you out. When you tried to think of where you were last, your head came up just as blank as the ceiling above you. That’s when you realised there was only one way you could get any answers.
You would have to move.
For some reason your instincts were telling you not to talk, not to draw attention to yourself. You weren’t sure why, but you sure as fuck weren’t going to go aginst your gut at a time like that.
You sucked in a silent breath and steeled yourself. Then you took in another. Then another. You breathed in and out and kept up a steady rhythm until you felt you’d gathered every miniscule ounce of strength you had and finally you put it all into twisting your neck around. You grunted out in pain, but kept yourself quiet, swivelling and sighing all you could until you were greeted with something other than ceiling.
A lightning shock of messy blonde hair. A black mask. A big scarred face gently slackened into a sleepy frown.
Your heart leaped in your chest. You couldn’t remember much, but one thing was for sure - you knew exactly who was sitting across from you then.
It brought a smile to your sore cracked lips. The corners twitched up and your heart jumped around in your chest like a parading cheerleader. Next thing you knew, something from somewhere next to you, something started to furiously beep. It filled your head and ricocheted through your ears, and more importantly startled the man across from you out of his slumber.
“Ah Oida! Doctor, nurse! The monitor its-”
König looked at you then and you could’ve sworn his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets. The world went still.
You smiled softly at him and watched on as he stayed frozen in his tracks, looking like a perfect picture of fear and disbelief. The room felt like it’d been filled with gas, like it was seconds from ignition. He gaped at you in the heavy silence.
“Am I…Is this…Is this real?” he asked fearfully.
You smiled wider then and blinked a couple times. You couldn’t rely on your voice to work, it felt like your gullet was filled up with gravel. Talking was going to be a luxury, you could tell. It already felt like a miracle getting to lay eyes on your man again, but it wasn’t one you were taking for granted. From the few moments you’d had, you could tell you’d been out for a while.
“My love! It’s really you, you’re really awake!” König laughed.
You mustered a tiny nod from your depleted energy reserves. The second you moved you sent König running toward you.
His boots slapped down on the squeaky tiled floors, with the force he sped to you it felt like he was going to put his foot through the floor. Though you couldn’t focus too much on that, because soon enough he was on you, arms clamping around you as if he’d never let go again.
It hurt so bad to have him wrap himself so tightly round you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. Strangely it was comforting to feel pain from something good. And man did it feel good. It felt like you’d been pulled from the ice, like you were warm again. Safe. You were home.
It made you all the more aware that you really were alive.
“König what the fuck are you doing? You can’t squeeze sneak awake! The doctors are saying you’re causing a commotion in here, what’s going on?”
You smiled wider than you ever thought possible and looked past König’s heaving body and toward the source of the gruff commanding voice. It was a voice for sore ears.
“I don’t need to squeeze Sneak awake, Captain,” König giggled, his entire body vibrating with his maddened laughter.
“Fuckin’ hell you’ve finally crossed the border fully into looney land,” Price growled.
“No! No, see for yourself. See!”
König detached from you, allowing you some more space to breathe again, and you took the opportunity gratefully. However you couldn’t help but wrinkle your nose when you finally caught the pungent smell that had clung to the air around you. Was that…König?
“What are you talking about? What- fucking christ alive!”
You broke out of your hazy thoughts and made eye contact with Price, almost breaking your silence with a fit of laughter when he did the same thing as König. His mouth hung open, his unusually clean shaven face looking thin and haunted from the second he realised that König hadn’t gone mad from grief. He dropped his shivering skinny arms and his whole hospital gown clad body shot up stick straight.
“Bloody hell It’s really…Sneak’s really…”
“See! I told you! I told you all!” König grinned. “I said there had been movement. I told you that Sneak would fight.”
König’s stance was victorious, his eyes were ablaze with pride. It made your chest wrench to see him so happy. Something told you that he hadn’t been doing well at all. If his greasy hair and fierce aroma were anything to go by. At least he would be able to fix that.
You weren’t so sure that you were going to be fixed anytime soon.
All of a sudden, as if awakened by your thoughts, a horrible tearing jolt worked itself through your throat and splintered down your back. It forced a pathetic squeak of pain from your lips and soon the two men were rushing to the door screaming and shouting for someone to come do something as your body heaved and trembled. The alarm and the crazed beeping from the machines only made your condition worsen, the shouting rattled your ears and rung through your head like a gong.
A nurse was by your side in minutes, shaking a little as König stood beside her, urging her to do something. You were in too much pain to pity her though. Your entire being was in atrophy. Chills and hot flashes worked their way through your skin and horrible zipping sparks jumped all around your body, directing themselves toward your tired lungs.
Though soon the trauma ended, and your pain dulled down into a light throb until eventually you felt like you were on a new plane. All the edges in the room appeared hazy and everything seemed to ebb and blur. At first it didn’t feel much better than the agony, but eventually you grew used to it, letting yourself lay back into the soft sheets and smile dopily into the skinny pillow you’d been given.
“Sneak? Sneak!”
“König,” you mouthed, floating steadily back into the darkness.
-☠️-
You’d had a few more encounters like that until you were finally able to stay awake without being shot up with drugs like a dying horse.
The pain started to get more manageable with time, and of course you were able to motivate yourself with seeing all of your loved ones again. König was always there, bar the times you had to raspily whisper shout at him to go take a bath or to go get some rest. He never would leave you alone to sleep though, opting instead to lay down on the empty hospital cot next you. He’d strong armed a young doctor into getting it into your room of course.
Price visited quite a lot too. He was in the room next to yours, thoroughly displeased that they weren’t giving him the all clear to go back to work. He groused that he was just fine and that the bloody doctors didn’t know what they were saying, going on about how he’d been a Captain long enough and he knew better than them that his body was ready to go home and heal there. You both knew it was a lie though. Price was as sick as you, even if he was mostly able to walk and talk. You could see it behind his eyes.
You knew well enough what was lurking in there, because you had the same sickness yourself. It was there when strangers came to touch you and check up on you, the doctors that were only trying to care for you. It was there when the lights went out at night. It was there lurking in the shadows. It was there every time you were forced to get a wash. You screamed bloody murder the first time you were awake for a sponge bath, almost choked up blood you were so terrified of the water. Even the sound of it sloshing at the edges of the bucket was enough to send you into a panic attack. It was a nightmare even having to drink the stuff.
König took it upon himself to look after every facet of your wellbeing after that wash. He bathed you, he fed you when you were finally able to have solid food, and he practically barked like a rottweiler at anyone that tried to touch you without letting him know what it was for. As much as you tried to tell him it was alright and that he didn’t have to do all that for you, he’d shake his head with indignance everytime and shush you with a million platitudes. He said he’d do anything for you. He would serve you until the minute you sent him away, which wasn’t very often, but it was necessary to tell him to eat or get himself a shower.
Price had confessed to you one night that he had reacted much the same as you after they’d brought him in. König had been sent away, and so your Captain sat on the foot of your bed drinking tea from a wonky paper cup, occasionally grimacing with his weird naked face as the bitter after taste sunk in. You were still getting used to seeing him without a beard, even after all you’d been through, that was still completely out of the ordinary.
“It’s the only reason I drink this utter shit,” he’d remarked, drawing the tea close to his lap. “I’d rather have something with a taste to it. Something with a bit of colour.”
“Glad to know its not just me,” you’d said bitterly.
Your voice was still raspy when you spoke, the doctors told you it would take a while to heal, you just had to keep your voice to a whisper for a while. Apparently your throat had suffered so much trauma that you were lucky you were getting to speak at all after what you’d been through. Not that you felt particularly lucky.
“You know…when we go back we’ll have to get tested…medical tests, psych evals.”
Your lips parted and you sucked in a low breath. In the back of your mind you hadn’t forgotten that Price was going to waive your little misstep with König. You were technically allowed to go back. That aside though, would you really be capable? Could you pass a psych eval? You screamed bloody murder most nights because of the awful nightmares you were having. Your body was frail and your scars were deep. Not all of them would heal.
“You’d let me back?” you asked slowly.
“Well, if you managed to pass - of course,” Price shrugged. “I was serious when I said that the whole mess with König didn’t matter, I think we’ve been through enough together that none of that means anything anymore. The most important factor is, do you want to go back?”
You caught eyes with him then, locked into his hard stare. His blue eyes were shining dully in the dim yellow night light. You could see the hollows in his cheeks more prominently now, the shadows were digging their palms into his face. He was right - you had been through a lot together.
You weren’t so sure about your abilities anymore, if you would have the nerve to get out on the field again. A dark part of you also wondered about the alternative, what if you’d enjoy it too much? What if you’d want to take your vengeance out on those who hadn’t even done anything to you?
Even through the haze of your memories of being rescued, you could still remember the way you stared at Rousseau's crushed up body and the feeling of your smile still haunted you.
Of all the things that that man had done to you, the most horrific of all was the taking of some small part of your humanity. It brought a shiver to your core each time you thought of his head being smashed against the wall, and how you couldn’t even imagine telling König to stop even if you’d had the ability at the time.
It was something you desperately tried not to dwell on, lest your chest cave in from the pressure.
Both you and Price wordlessly let the uncomfortable silence linger. Soon enough he cast his gaze away and flickered his attention over to the TV. It was playing a crappy sitcom that neither of you had seen before, nevertheless you were both as captivated with it as if it were your favourite. Neither of you brought up coming back again that night. It made for too many questions that you didn’t have the answer to yet.
It was easier to pretend that everything was going to be fine. Your head felt clearer when you plastered on a smile and acted like everything was normal. That was the tactic when Ghost, Gaz and Soap finally came to visit and it worked well then.
They’d all flooded into the room with faces like slapped arses. Gaz and Soap were fighting each other to apologise to you first while Ghost stood solemnly by your side giving you one of the sorriest looks you’d ever seen from those hard blue eyes of his. You weren’t going to have any of it though. They didn’t deserve to drown in their guilt because of a series of reckless choices that you’d made.
“All of you have got to stop apologising. You already did enough getting us out of there, there’s nothing more to be said about it,” you rasped, quickly looking over to the jug of water placed strategically away from you.
Ghost gave Soap and gaz a withering look, before he turned and fetched a small glass, filling it only a third of the way before steadily handing it to you. It barely shifted in his careful hands - it made you realise that someone must’ve filled him in. The realisation had your heart stuttering, it had revealed a crack in your normal facade.
Despite that though, you gave him a small nod and gently tipped the water back, greedily letting the water soothe your burning throat. Drinking it never completely relieved you of course. Your throat remained scratchy no matter what you had, it would still take some time before you fully recovered.
“We played our part in your capture, Sneak. There’s no denying it,” Ghost said. “Me more than anyone else. I put you in danger and I can’t let you dismiss that. I let my feelings get in the way of the mission, and ultimately that was the whole reason Price had set the rules he did with you in the first place. I’m truly sorry for what happened, and there isn’t anything that’ll make my part in what happened alright.”
“Aye, we all did, we all put you in danger. It was a fuckin’ big shock, Sneak. It didn’t feel good knowing you might’ve been leaving the team for someone we thought was…well it doesn’t matter what we thought. Point is we acted out of line and we do have to apologise,” Soap said seriously, placing his hand by yours on the bed. “Im sorry too.”
“It wasn’t our place to punish you,” Gaz said firmly, “We acted like fucking children and it almost cost your life. I can’t say sorry enough.”
“You were barely even with me on that mission!”
“Well I didn’t exactly stick up for you when I got the chance, did I?”
You started to roll your eyes, but the look that Gaz gave you was enough to stop them before they peaked at the skyline. You closed them instead for a second and then pursed your lips, taking a moment to consider their words.
Everything in you wanted to tell them all to shut up about it so that you wouldn’t have to think too much about that awful day, but you knew well enough that you couldn’t ask everyone to put it behind them just so that you could deny it. What happened happened. You had to face it. If not just for yourself, then for the men that had risked their lives coming to get you and Price back. For your brothers.
Though you didn’t have to unravel right at that exact moment, you decided. That could wait for a time that you could at least fetch your own water for yourself, or when you could take a shower without König standing outside of it.
“Well, seeing as we’re talking apologies…” you sighed, opening your eyes again and looking at each of them with serious measure. “Let’s get into reparations. What’d you all get me?”
“Get you?” Gaz repeated.
“Yeah, where are my ‘sorry you almost died, woops!’ balloons?”
“Oh, away n’ bile yer heid!” Soap groused.
“You didn’t even get a little bear with hand marks round it’s neck?” you grinned.
“Well we found one, but it had big red handprints on its arse as well, and that just didn’t seem appropriate,” Ghost remarked.
“Jesus, LT!” Soap snapped.
“Yeah, König might take it as us flirtin’ and snap our arms off,” Gaz sniggered.
“Oh for…” Soap groaned, and put his hands over his eyes.
You laughed properly for the first time in a long time, and most joyously of all you didn’t fly into a coughing fit straight after. It flowed freely from you like notes from a tuba, still not quite your usual timbre but fuck it, it was music. Your body lightened and your head cleared, it was like an oppressive fog was beginning to lift.
Even if you weren’t coughing by the end of it, your throat still dried up again though you didn’t need to worry. Ghost got you another glass of water and handed it to you with a softened expression.
You took the glass from him once more and sunk into a familiar rhythm with the guys again, transporting yourself away from the four stark white walls of the hospital room and away on their adventures. They filled you in on what was happening back at base, told you about their latest antics with the recruits and by the end of it you were so delirious from happiness, the nurse had to shoo them out so that you could rest.
König came in shortly after them, freshly washed and fed, and he lay down in his cot across the room. His footsteps had woken you, even when he hadn’t meant to, you were still so hypersensitive to movement. Even in the darkness you could make out his mountainous shape as it rose and curved from the bed and it brought a little smile curving onto your lips. Your protector was never far.
You sleepily invited him over and gladly he came speed walking to your bed. His messy was flopping in his excitement and the site of him reminded you so much of a cartoon you couldn't help but laugh a little.
The trilling sound of it had him smiling, and soon after he poured you a cup of water and let you drink before fastening his arms around you and cuddling into your back. Your personal stove was on full heat. He was assuming his faithful position by your side.
You sighed and relaxed into him, wiggling to get yourself right before frowning when you felt something sharp poking into your leg. What was that? You drew your hand back and stopped at König’s pocket, tilting your head when you slid your hand in and found the source.
“Oh, Scheiße,” König huffed.
“What?”
König’s body went stiff as a board and you could practically feel the air harden around you. You were confused as to why he was there until you brought your hand to your face and discovered the cause.
It was the wooden bird from the market. You tilted it gently and inspected it, quickly realising what the cause of his sorry state was. It’s little wing had been broken and glued back on, a permanent scar had been left on its frail body. Something that was all too familiar.
“It’s just like me,” you joked.
“What?” König somehow managed to get stiffer.
You turned around and faced him, gasping when you realised how upset he was. His entire expression soured, his eyebrows knitting into a deep frown. His shoulders sagged with grief and from behind his bandana you swore you could see his lips trembling, could sense his breath puffing out raggedly from behind the material. The pain on his face struck through your skull like a mallet.
Shit.
“You know…It’s got a little damage, but its ok. You put it back together,” you shrugged, trying fruitlessly to keep your tone light and even.
“It was only broken because of me,” König whimpered. “And I haven’t even properly fixed it.”
His eyes glazed over, spacing out into whatever terrible thoughts had been tugging at his subconscious. You’d felt your heart break then, cracking down the middle at the thought of him blaming himself. It was bad enough when the 141 were filling up the room with their apologies, but it was a whole other thing to see König folding under the pressure of his guilt. The boys had each other, but he didn’t have anyone other than you.
“Hey,” you said gently, voice still a little rough. “Listen to me. C’mon look at me. König I need you to know that it’s not your fault, what happened wasn’t because of you…I don’t even know why you’d think it’s your fault, but ultimately it comes down to me. My stupid actions. You tried to do your best by me that day and I fought you because I was scared. I couldn’t stop worrying about all the damage I’d done and in the end I only made it all worse. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, frowning as he searched your face.
“Of course I’m sure. That day I got captured was a shit show, König. After you did everything you possibly could to make sure I got back safe and sound again, and… well I don’t even know if I can even count on myself not having more dreams or hallucinations, but I’m sure I heard you everyday that you were by my bedside. I could feel you when I was asleep. You were there with me even when I was getting moved around all those prisons. You’ve been my anchor König, you’ve been the one that’s kept me here fighting. You’re my reason to go on, so don’t you lie there blaming yourself for what’s happened.”
“How can I not?” König sighed. “It’s my fault things got so complicated between us in the first place. I was the reason that Price banned you from having a relationship with me, It was my fault for being so bloodthirsty. Fuck, I could barely even stop myself from killing Rousseau, I thought- I thought that, well I worried that you would’ve spent your last moments horrified with me for what I’d done to him that day.”
“Oh fuck no, don’t be stupid!” you snapped.
König’s brows shot up and his eyes grew big as saucers. You swore you could see your hardset gaze reflected clearly in the blue of them, burning holes through that layer of guilt he’d shrouded himself in. How dare he think that he was your ruin when he was the one that saved you?
“Don’t you dare put all the blame on yourself, König. You can’t think like that. I have just as much freedom over my actions as you do, it was equally my fault for getting Price on my back, and it was down to my actions that day that got me captured. As for Rousseau, well, I would’ve splattered him on the concrete myself if I had the energy.”
“Sneak!”
“It’s true,” you spat. “I know I shouldn’t think like that, but it’s true. I know I’m normally the one that tries to do right, but do you know what? After all the wrong I’ve done, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I’m not capable of the same things as you. We both have violent jobs, and we both carry horrible truths that haunt us. Don’t turn me into one of your ghosts König, don’t let the guilt fester and eat you up. I love you and I’d do anything to make sure you were safe, and I know that you’d do the same for me. You brought me back from the brink and now because of it we can lay here together and we can make a future for ourselves. We can go to Austria and we can decide to do whatever we want with the time that we have König. That’s all that matters. Don’t shrink from the past and get upset at the scars left behind. We have to learn to accept it.”
You thrust the bird toward him and he took it, scooping it into his hands ever so delicately. It was as if you’d handed him your heart. His breaths were soft and his eyes were filled with tears.
There was a single beat where you worried he might try to walk away, but instead he gently placed the bird down on your over-bed table, wood hitting wood producing a soft whispery sound in the near silent room, and then he wrapped his arms around you again. He held you tight and kept you melded to him, fusing you with his shaking body.
He cried soundlessly and let his body shake most of it out, all of the terror and the pain and the stress he’d been holding onto was slowly being released through you. His tears ran thick and hot and collected at his mask, reddening his cheeks at the edges of it. You slid it down for him eventually and cleared away the salty tracts, dabbing at his cheeks with the corner of your crisp white bed sheets.
“You have no idea…I…I feel so selfish saying this, but you don’t know how lonely I’ve felt this past month. I’ve just felt like I’ve had all of this pain trapped inside and every time I’ve seen you suffer since waking up I just- I’ve felt like shit for thinking that I deserve an ounce of comfort when you’re the one that’s been through the worst.”
“Don’t think like that König, please. You always have me to turn to, you’re not being selfish for feeling hurt in all this. You got burnt too and it’s not fair you going it alone ok? You can talk to me, König. You can always talk to me. I love you, I love you so much, and I don’t want you bottling everything up just to protect me. I’m not broken, you don’t have to turn me into your next mission. I’m healing, and I think- I think we both need to heal. Y’know?”
König took a stuttering breath and nodded, his lips curling downward in a unique kind of sadness you’d never seen on him before. Now that his hair was flopping over his forehead and his half mask was wound down and dishevelled on his neck, he looked so young. His face was shadowed with his innocence, it shone out across his eyes.
You pressed your palms into his cheeks and smoothed your thumbs over the irritated salty skin, pressing kisses where you could to ease the pain. His face was scratchy from the thick stubble there, but you didn’t care. It was more important that you soothe the burning ache inside König. You had to show him that you could be there for him too, even if you were still physically weak.
He was your reason to remain strong. He was the reason you were taking steps every day to try and get better. He really was your anchor. Your König.
“Somehow we’ll make it through this…” you whispered, finally giving his swollen lips a much needed kiss.
He closed his eyes and leaned into it. The pressure in the atmosphere seemed to lighten, your lips crushed together like petals and you bathed in the calm that overflowed in you. It finally felt like things really would be ok. You were together now and you didn’t need to constantly think about your next steps, you just had to be. That was all that mattered for then.
Your kiss ended a little while after, your breath not quite back to normal yet. Your chest panted with the lack of air, but soon you settled again and smiled. König matched your smile and his dazzling blue eyes gleamed like jewels in the low light. He rested against the pillow and stared at you in awe, as if he was finally seeing someone he hadn’t gotten to be with in a very long time.
“Do you really think you heard me when you were…asleep?” he asked, tentatively breaking the silence as if it were fragile glass.
He could never bring himself to say ‘in a coma’.
“I dunno,” you sighed. “I think I dreamed a lot, but I can’t really remember. I swear I really could hear Rocky sometimes, but then Price was very eager to make a point of saying how insane you’d driven everyone with it so…who knows,” you laughed. “He’s a vivid storyteller I guess.”
König chuckled a little and shook his head. Looking a little guilty as he thought about the amount that movie had been on. He’d already confessed to you it’d be a long time before he’d ever be able to watch it again.
“You don’t remember me speaking to you though? Don’t remember the things I’d told you?”
You tilted your head at him, the movement rustling the stark sheets beneath you.
“I feel like I can remember you saying you loved me and you wanted me to open my eyes, but I can’t really remember anything specific. Nothing I couldn’t have just as well have dreamt,” you shrugged. “Why?”
“I…well I thought…ugh, it’s ridiculous. Nevermind,” he sighed, looking toward the wall and away from your questioning gaze.
“Aw, c’mon König! What is it? You can tell me,” you pressed, running your hand through a section of his fluffy hair.
He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. His face washed with relief, his body relaxed. He let go of his anxieties.
“Well…I told you my name a little closer to the end of your sleep. I thought that maybe you might’ve remembered it if you were coming to awareness.”
You froze, stopping your calming gestures in your tracks as soon as you realised what you’d missed out on.
“You what! You told me your name and now you’re just casually throwing that out there?”
“Well I was desperate, Sneak. I thought maybe it’d motivate you to wake up, I dunno. I said it was ridiculous,” he huffed, opening his eyes back up again.
“Well, do I get to know it now?” you demanded, rolling over him so that he was caged between your arms.
He widened his eyes, and even in the darkness you could make out the rosy tint that had broken out across his cheeks. He breathed a little quicker.
“Aw, c’mon!” you begged, giving him your widest doe eyes you could muster. “Please.”
He sighed and bit his lip, trying to avoid your stare, but it didn’t work. He could feel the heat of your eyes on him and so he gave up. He puffed out a defeated breath and he smiled a queasy smile. He was about to speak, but instead found himself opening his mouth and closing it again, sealing his lips shut tightly.
“Are you really still scared to share it with me?” you asked, softening your harsh stare at him.
He opened and closed his mouth again and finally he shook his head at himself.
“I’m not scared, no. It just feels…I’m not sure. I don’t really like to say it. I Will tell you though. I don’t ever want anything to happen again and live knowing that I didn’t hear you say it. I’m sure I’ll love to hear you say it.”
“Well you could always write it down…I can’t promise I’ll pronounce it right if its got some weird Austrian spelling, but I can-”
“No, no,” he chuckled, taking one of your hands in his and stopping you before you could go off on a tirade. “I won’t need to write it down. I’ll tell you.”
“Ok, well…when you’re ready.”
He breathed out and traced your fingers with his thumb. The massive digit stroked featherlight touches into your skin and you smiled at the fizzing sensation of it. His breath was warm on your neck, his chest was beating erratically from beneath you. It prompted you to climb down off him, keeping a grip of his hand all the same, but instead you took to lying next to him again.
He smiled lazily as you settled by his side and he closed his eyes. You felt yourself strain as you listened to the buzzing quiet in the room, waiting to hear his name after all that time.
“Matthias,” he whispered.
You instantly grinned, the single word lighting you up like a beacon. Your chest felt like it could burst.
“Do I get a second name, Matthias?” you asked, pressing closer so you could kiss his cheek.
He shivered next to you, his entire body buzzing. The static zipped right through the bed. He gave you a look he’d never given you before, the joy indescribable.
“Luger,” he said gently.
You bit your lip, not quite believing that you finally heard it.
“Not König then?”
“No, not König,” he murmured. “König was my mother’s maiden name. I started using it when I left the army. No ones called me by my real name in a long time”
“Huh… Matthias Luger,” you said in a whisper, feeling conspiratorial. “It suits you.”
“It suits me when you call me it,” he smiled, cuddling himself into the bed.
“Should I call you Matthias when we’re alone now?” you pondered, letting your thoughts escape out loud.
He breathed out a laugh and pulled you close to him, forcing you to sink into the bed with him. It didn’t require too much coercion however. You were more than happy to lie there with him.
“You can call me whatever you like as long as you stay with me, darling,” he whispered. “Don’t ever run off like that again, you promise?”
You sighed and cuddled closer into his body, gradually letting yourself fade into the night with him.
“I promise…Matthias,” you whispered, not helping yourself from saying it just one last time.
-☠️-
The darkness kept a hold of you both for some time after that, after all was said and done. However during the course of your lying in bed together, it released its hold on you soon enough, and before you knew it the sun was raising its bright arms into the sky and beginning to wave good morning. You could see it out in the hallway, gently tickling at the floors and beginning to shift its eyes onto your room. You were dozing on and off, but now that you’d seen the light you were fully awake, flickering your lashes at the golden rays as they bounced off the blue linoleum.
“Morning.”
König yawned next to you, stretching himself out and uncurling his arms. His back cracked like a firework seconds later, and he wrapped himself around you again, snuggling into the back of your T-shirt (one of his that he’d supplied you with). You rolled your eyes and smiled, feeling your heartbeat pitter patter.
“You sure it’s morning for you?” You asked breathily.
“Mm, I’ll be awake properly in a few minutes,” he grunted. “This just feels nice.”
“Aw, so cute when you’re sleepy,” you cooed, rolling around so that you could see his shuttered lashes.
He moaned his disapproval at being called cute, but he didn’t say much. He was verging far too much on the side of sleep rather than waking and you knew it would take far more to prod the bear back to life.
You grinned slyly to yourself and bit your lip. Something of your old sense of mischief was returning to you.
“You’re just so sweet you’re all tired like that,” you continued.
He grunted again.
“My little Schnucki cuddle bear…my lil matty watty-”
At that, König wrenched his eyes open and shot you a warning look. It was written all over his face that he had no idea how to take his revenge with you still in your weakened state, but you knew well enough he’d think of something. You took to giggling at his frowning face and lay yourself back against the pillow, innocently staring up at him as plotted away.
“You know if you’re going to call me disgustingly cutesy names, I will have to leave.”
“You would never,” you snorted, “I have to shoo you away just to get a shower most of the time.”
“Well, maybe I’m in a showering mood this morning,” he said, smiling viciously at you.
His eyes were pointed at you like arrows. He pulled up his mask and sat up without breaking eye contact, then he tilted his head at you. A particularly smarmy look crossed his face. He’s clearly thought of a good way to get his revenge.
“Yes, I think maybe I’ll head out for a little bit,” he shrugged.
“Fine,” you said, playing along with his little game. “I’m sure the nurses will be around with food soon. Price will be up and about too.”
“Mm, that will be good for you,” he said with a nod. “I think what might be good for me is getting myself a lovely breakfast. I’ll forgo the hospital canteen though, that stuff's rubbish. I think instead there's a lovely Italian deli that’ll be opening soon. One that I think you’ve heard of. It does lovely breakfast food!”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“And you’d bring something back from the deli then?”
“Why would I do that?”
You shoved at him playfully, too weak and tired to make much impact, but nonetheless enough to send him laughing back onto the bed. The booming sound had you giggling immediately, and even while all the excitement was hurting your throat you didn’t care. He pulled you into him and cuddled you close, forcing you back to the bed, though he didn’t actually have to use much strength.
He held you like that until Price sleepily stumbled in with his morning tea round and cleared his throat, forcing you both to part. Even if he did say he was fine with König, it was evident he wasn’t in love with watching you exchange affections. Even standing next to König seemed like an issue some days.
König left then, making his usual excuses, promising to come back with something from the deli after all, and allowed Price to pull up a chair alone.
He was a lot more mobile now that he’d mostly healed, he still stood a little funny under the weight of his crushed back, but according to the physio (and maybe Price overexaggerating his diagnosis) he would be fine again in a few weeks. Judging by the way he grunted when his back connected with the hard leather, you knew you were onto something assuming Price was being unusually optimistic.
“Making noises like that, you’ll be a sure candidate for desk duty, old man.”
Price shot you a glare and you bit your lip. He wasn’t going to abide by your cheek.
“I can still send you to the latrines, Sneaky,” Price answered, slamming your flimsy takeaway tea down with a little too much force.
“Oh yeah? I can imagine that’ll be a cushy job if I only have to clean your office.”
“Fuck sake,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes.
You couldn’t help yourself. Now that you’d been through all that trauma together, you found yourself braving interactions with him that you never would’ve before. After seeing him bollock naked and covered in his own detritus, the sheen of his title had faded some. You were able to be braver.
You and he both knew that nothing he could threaten you with would be worse than what you’d already faced. It was that universally realised truth that meant you knew the bitter glare that he was directing you from behind his takeaway cup didn’t hold any real malice.
“Seriously though…Gaz told me you were thinking of going back in a couple weeks. Is that true?”
Price stopped mid sip and regarded you awkwardly. His eyes slanted downward to the floor and his palm rested on his sweats in defeat. It was still so odd seeing Price in pyjamas, almost weirder than seeing him naked. It made him look all the more uncomfortable in front of you.
“Well, just on paperwork to start. I’m not bloody likely to pass a medical and I’ve got a series of psych evals and debriefs to get through, so yeah, I figure I may as well get ahead of it all.”
“You’ve got to tell them about what happened? Do I? Will they ask me to come in?” you asked, breath hitching with fear. “Will they come here?”
“No, no, don’t worry. I’ve told them you’ll not be in until your health improves. Far as they’re concerned you’re barely talking right now,” he soothed.
Your heartbeat wound down from its highly strung little dance. You breathed out a sigh of relief and picked up your cup of tea, breathing in the warm berry steam that wafted through the little opening in the top before you took a relieved sip.
“Thanks…I don’t think I could face anything like that right now.”
“I barely can myself,” he muttered. “All those men giving me sorry looks like I’m a whipped dog. It’ll be hell. Still though, it’d be worse if I didn’t get to operate again. Needs must.”
You nodded, looking far beyond the pale white sheets that your head was directed towards. You didn’t have the same worries. You feared more than pitying looks, it was deeper than that for you. The real hell was having to relive what you’d gone through multiple times while blank faced suits noted down what had happened. The very idea made you want to bring up what little was in your stomach.
“Have you given much more thought to coming back?” Price asked.
You looked up at him and met his appraising look. His mouth quirked and his body tensed, he knew as well as you the answer was obvious. Obvious but complicated.
“Honest answer? I’ve thought about it alot. At the end of the day I don’t even know if I’ll heal completely right yet. The fractures I’ve got are still bad and the physios keep looking at me like a tripped horse. I still can’t wash without König there. There’s a lot going on…”
“They’ll put you behind a desk if you tell them all that.”
“Maybe it’s the best place for me…I dunno. I’m not really sure of much right now, but I do know one thing - I’m not going to hide things anymore. I can’t hide my feelings just to try and get the work done, I’m not going to put people at risk because of the shit I’ve got bottled up. I’m never going to repeat the mistakes I made on that mission, Price. I’ve got too much to lose to ever do anything like that again.”
Price sighed and nodded, looking off into his own middle distance. It gave a sort of sagely quality, his crinkling eyes working against his younger years.
“I’ve asked and I can buy you three months,” he said suddenly, “You can take that time to heal and to think about things, see a shrink, do whatever you need to do. Come back to me then and give me an answer.”
“Three months?” you repeated. “To answer what? I don’t even know if I’ll be fully recovered.”
“You don’t need to be fully recovered…physically. You can be trained back to what you were, that’s not the issue. I just need to know if you can still do the job, and if you still want to do it. Take the time, think about things properly, hell go on that fuckin’ trip König wouldn’t shut up about and clear your head. After that, just come to me with an answer and even if it’s a no, I at least know that you got to think about your decision properly. I can make peace with it then.”
“You’re not keen on me saying no then?” you smiled, catching onto what he was doing.
“I can see you leaning towards it and I’d rather you didn’t while you’re practically chained to the bed in a dour place like this. You’re a good soldier. You can recover from this and you can come back, if you want to. Get out of here as soon as you’re able and go away with König. Believe me when I tell you that I don’t doubt your ability for a second. You’ll get over the water stuff, you’ll overcome the shadows. If I can, then you can too. I don’t want to lose you, Sneak. So please, just promise me you’ll think about it, yeah?”
You sighed and gave him a nod, rubbing your thumb against the hot cardboard that barley kept your tea contained. It was almost blistering your skin, but the burning was a pleasant distraction from otherwise unpleasant thoughts.
Price got up from his chair and put his hand on your shoulder, making sure that you acknowledged his meaningful look. His soft blue eyes cast a beam of light onto you, the wrinkles at the corner scrunching as he gave you a reassuring squeeze. His touch lingered long after he was gone, leaving you with just enough comfort to last until König returned.
König did surreptitiously wander in minutes later, looking around warily before revealing his smuggled goods. He’d had to hide them in his hoodie like a pregnant lady, and just the sight of his overstuffed belly had you almost completely forgetting about what Price had discussed with you. You were happy to focus on better things. Afterall, you reasoned to yourself, it was Price that had told you to clear your head in the first place.
“Ok, I couldn’t bring you Soup because I wasn’t willing to burn myself for you, but I did pick up your favourite panini and I got you a cake that might be a little squashed. Does the royal highness approve?”
You approved indeed. Anything was better than hospital food, but furthermore the deli food was better than anything. Immediately you grabbed for the panini and took a big grateful bite, barely just thanking König before you did so. It was just so good. Your eyelids shut tight as soon as you got your first taste of crusty bread and homemade melty butter.
This was paradise.
“Do I say enough how much I love you?” you murmured.
“Not at all,” König smirked, looking around the doorway for unwanted eyes before taking his own bite of panini from out of his mask. “It should be every word that leaves your mouth from now on.”
You snorted back a laugh and finished your bite.
“I could do that, but your poor mother might think I'm a bit weird if I can only tell her how much I love you.”
König stopped eating and peered over at you, clearly forgetting all about his contraband treat. He regarded you seriously for a moment and pulled his chair closer, attention now completely focused on you.
“You still want to go to Austria?”
“Well, the flights will need rebooked I imagine, but once I’m better? Of course!”
“But…didn’t you say you might need to report in soon?”
“Well, I spoke to Price about it all there and I told him the same thing I’ve said to you. I don’t know if I’ll go back fully. He didn’t want to accept that right away though, so he said he can give me three months. I figure I can be outta here a lot sooner than that. So what do you say? Still wanna show me home?”
König threw his panini down onto the table and pushed it roughly to the side, immediately taking his chance to wrap around you like a koala. He smiled brightly and he exhaled, his long thick arms not easing up as he constricted around you.
“Do I say enough how much I love you?” König asked wryly.
“Mm, I could stand to hear it a little more,” you sighed.
He laughed lightly at that, you could feel it echoing around his chest. His warm puffs of breath landed hotly onto your neck. It had your eyelids fluttering closed, your own sandwich discarded somewhere next to König’s. You wrapped your arms around him in kind and revelled in the feeling of holding your universe close into your chest, letting everything else float away as you settled into the cloudy abyss once more.
Even if you were unsure of where your future was going exactly, there was always going to be one constant. No matter what you faced, no matter what you decided, you would always have each other now. It didn’t matter that Price would come looking for your answer, it didn’t matter if the guys would be upset to hear you say no, it didn’t matter if you were nail bitingly eager and terrified in equal measure to say yes to Price.
König would be with you through it all, he could lend you his strength and you could give him your love and vice versa. You were your own team. Together you’d make contenders for anything. He was your rock and you were his light. You were going to be fighters until the end.
#König#König x reader#konig x reader#konig#könig fanfiction#modern warfare 2#modern warfare fanfiction#mw2#a rocky start
719 notes
·
View notes
Note
could you write something w brat!reader x Rafe and she’s been having attitude all day and she’s been whiny so he fucks her to shut her up
Y/N made a conscious effort to distance herself from her boyfriend, Rafe, throughout the evening.
She opted to stay among her friends, as she and Rafe had engaged in a disagreement a few hours earlier regarding her decision to wear a noticeably short and revealing black dress.
However, Rafe asserted that his intention was merely to safeguard her due to the presence of numerous individuals within the outer banks who would eagerly seize the opportunity to pursue his girlfriend.
Regrettably, her customary petulant demeanor led her to dismiss his concern entirely.
Y/N and her friend were seated together, while she wore the exact black dress that Rafe had advised her against putting on.
She observed him periodically cast furious glances in her direction, his face contorted with anger, as he, along with Topper and Kelce, sipped their alcoholic beverages from their red solo cups.
After some time, Y/N stood up from her seat on the couch and navigated through the boisterous gatherings of individuals within the house, proceeding towards the table from where she could procure an alcoholic beverage for herself.
“What part of ‘you’re not wearing that’ do you not understand?” Amidst the uproar of the party, Rafe leaned closer, bending down to her delicate ear, yearning to convey a question that brimmed with an edgy intensity.
Y/N, with her signature flair, couldn't help but roll her eyes as she savored the final remnants of liquid courage, fixing her gaze on her boyfriend “Leave me alone.”
Rafe, feeling increasingly frustrated, was overcome by a growing annoyance that manifested itself in a physical manner.
He found himself instinctively wiping his tongue around the inner side of his cheek. As his frustration reached its peak, Rafe absentmindedly pushed his hair back from his forehead.
“I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Are you listening to yourself right now?” Y/N quipped, glancing up at Rafe, who responded with a laugh borne out of irritation and proceeded to shake his head “Rafe I don’t need you telling me what to do.”
Amidst the crowd, pulsating with dancing bodies and flowing drinks, her path meandered with purpose.
However, before she could truly wander, she felt the unyielding clasp of Rafe's hand tightly gripping her arm, a storm of fury painted vividly across his visage “You need to stop with the attitude.”
“What are you going to do Rafey?” Y/N, with a mischievous grin across her face, expertly batted her long, fluttering eyelashes to create an aura of innocence.
Her gaze met his, piercing into the depths of his soul, as her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief.
As he caught sight of her playful expression, a mix of nerves and desire coursed through his veins, causing him to quickly swallow hard and clench his jaw, attempting to display a semblance of control.
He firmly grasped Y/N's arm and led her through the bustling crowd of people, his pace quick and purposeful.
Every step they took together invited curious glances from those around them, especially the male onlookers who found themselves unable to tear their eyes away from Y/N's enchanting figure.
Yet, as their gazes lingered appreciatively, Rafe's penetrating stare, cold and threatening, fell upon anyone foolish enough to openly ogle Y/N.
“Rafe! What are you doing?”
Rafe disregarded her questions and proceeded with purposeful strides amidst the multitude, ultimately guiding them both into the bathroom and securing the door.
“You wanna act like a slut then you’ll get treated like one.” With a smirk, he skillfully released the clasp of his belt, causing his denim jeans and underwear to fall down to the ground.
With that single fluid movement, his enormous and engorged manhood was unveiled, leaving Y/N's mouth watering uncontrollably at the mesmerizing spectacle.
Rafe positioned his head against the door as he proceeded to manipulate his dick with deliberate and controlled movements “Get on your knees.”
In a sudden display of submission, Y/N gracefully sank to her knees before him.
Gazing up at Rafe through the delicate veil of her eyelashes, a tantalizing smirk danced upon his lips as he basked in the captivating image of Y/N sucking his dick.
She delicately grasped the base of his arousal, her gentle touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body.
Skillfully she traced the tip of his shaft with her tongue, paying careful attention to the small droplet of glistening excitement resting there.
As her tongue caressed his sensitive flesh, a deep, guttural sound of pure hedonistic satisfaction escaped from Rafe's lips, a clear indication of the overwhelming pleasure he was experiencing in that very moment “Fuck.”
As he plunged his impressive length deeper into Y/N’s mouth, tears welled in her eyes while his firm grasp on the back of her hair intensified the gripping sensation.
“Taking my dick like a good little whore.”
Her melodious whine filled the air with a tinge of protest as she boldly engulfed his essence, ensuring every inch of him reached the depths of her being.
“Fuck…” Rafe murmured softly, his breath quickening, as he prepared to release himself into her awaiting mouth “I’m gonna cum.”
Y/N welcomed his eruption as she savored every drop, skillfully consuming the bountiful essence he bestowed upon her, before releasing his member from her lips.
Gasping for breath, Rafe gently swept Y/N off her feet, adeptly settling her atop the bathroom counter.
With an artful flourish, he teasingly lifted the hem of her dress, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her upper thigh.
Creatively, two teasing fingers glided sensually between her thighs, unveiling her thrilling desire for him deep within.
She craved his presence, longing to be one, while the absence of undergarments heightened their intimate connection “Wearing no panties?”
With a melodious whine, she melted into his shoulder, amplifying the harmony as his colossal ringed fingers delved deep within her.
A symphony of pleasure escaped her lips, resonating through the air “Rafe fuck I need you… Please.”
Rafe smirked triumphantly and he smoothly withdrew his finger from inside her, ensuring a heightened excitement pulsated through both of them.
With an expression of satisfaction playing across his face, Rafe couldn't help but relish in his victory. In that fleeting moment, there was a sense of undeniable pride that engulfed him.
Taking in the intoxicating air of anticipation, Rafe cautiously positioned himself, aligning his firm member to the throbbing gates of her eager entrance.
“Oh my… Rafe!” Y/N, filled with desire and passion, couldn't help but let out a pleasurable moan as he delved deeper into the heated moment.
With each thrust, his eagerness intensified, fueling his inner craving for her. The connection they shared grew with every rhythmic movement, enchanting both their bodies and souls.
“That’s it baby you let everybody know who you belong to.” He embraced her with a breathless fervor, lavishing her neck with cascading affectionate kisses that left behind a mesmerizing trail of vibrant crimson imprints.
“You’re so tight fuck.”
As their movements ripple through the air, the intensity gradually diminishes, hinting at an impending release “Rafe I’m gonna cum.”
Y/N' and Rafe’s infectious symphony of ecstasy and bliss emanated from their lips as Rafe gracefully withdrew from her, causing a cacophony of pleasure to reverberate through the air.
The harmonious aftermath resonated as they both caught their breaths, still caught in the throes of passion.
Both Y/N and Rafe took a moment to recover their breath and regain composure.
Slowly, they started putting back on their clothes, each movement filled with a mix of lingering desire and the need to return to reality.
With a delicate touch, Y/N delicately started tidying up her appearance, carefully selecting the right shade of lipstick and ensuring every foundation stroke was perfectly blended.
Rafe silently observed her from behind, his eyes fixated on her reflection.
As he gently approached her, an intricate mix of emotions welled up inside him - a longing to hold her close and an unspoken understanding of the possible consequences that might follow.
“You listen to me from now on, okay?” He cupped her face with one hand, his cool rings leaving an imprint on her soft cheeks “You got that?”
She nodded, her eyes meeting his as he drew her near, their lips caressing in a tender embrace.
“Got nothin’ to say now princess?”
#drew starkey#obx#rafe cameron#rafe outer banks#drew x reader#drew starkey x oc#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey imagine#outerbanks fic#outerbanks x reader#rafe angst#rafe obx#rafe imagine
281 notes
·
View notes
Text
This is for @baroukitten. It was originally an ask that got long. I’m still deciding how I wanna characterise him hmmm.
Based on this.
Warnings: 18+, not proofread!, established relationship, bath sex handjobs.
Picture taking a bath with Barou and his aching muscles after a game, the way he hisses as he slinks into the warm water. He should’ve expected the sting, knowing how hot you run your baths— Hotter than the depths of hell, just how you like it.
“You big baby.” You murmur as he relaxes back against your chest with a sigh, the water almost sloshing over the edge from how muscular he is, your thighs spread to accommodate his size as you wrap your arms around his chest.
“Won’t be able to play the next qualifier with third degree burns,” He groans, feeling your hands stroke against his pectorals as you grin against his neck, your lips leaving searing kisses against the tender skin.
“I’m sure you’ll be okay, big boy.” You laugh as you grab a bath puff and begin to clean his body, taking the time to work out the kinks against his sore back as you feel him physically begin to relax. The weight of him beginning to press down against you as he heaved a sigh, his large palms squeezing your thighs that lay on either side of him as his eyes begin to flutter shut.
“Excuse me,” You feign shock as your hands travel lower, feeling his cock firm beneath the water, “What’s this?”
“You know damn well,” He groans, shifting his hips as he purposefully pushes his cock harder against your palm, giving himself some slight friction as he groans, “S’your fault anyway.”
“How’s if my fault?” You drop the puff in the bath in favour of wrapping your hand around his girth, listening keenly for the sharp intake of breath as you begin a languid pace breath the water, “I was just helping clean you up.”
“I’m sure that was all you were doin’,” He scoffs, shifting as he turns his head to the side to press warm lips against your cheek, “Don’t think I didn’t see you eye-fuckin’ me the entire game, sweetheart.”
“I was not.” Your gasp incredulously as you feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin.
“Sure looked like it,” He hums, “What was it? The hat-trick or the winning goal?”
You could physically feel him puffing his chest out at the self-idolisation, bringing him back to earth as you moved lower to palm his balls. The smug grin quickly turning into a sultry moan.
“I think it was when Raichi almost sent you flying when you both went for the ball,” You whispered against the shell of his ear, “Love it when you come home covered in mud.”
“That’s because you’re filthy,” He groans as your finger strokes along his taint before moving back up to cup his balls, barely able to move your other hand around his thick frame to stroke his neglected cock.
“Only for you, Shoei.” You coo, speeding your pace up as water spills over the edge of the tub as your boyfriend fucks into your fist, his cock throbbing as he nears his release.
“That fuckin’ peasant wouldn’t have knocked me down,” He almost growls as he feels your hand tighten around his cock.
“Of course not, my King.” The pent up tension rife inside him as he feels himself close to surrender, his balls tightening as he cums with a grunt of your name. His warm seed spilling into the water as you continue to stroke him through his release, delicate fingers tracing the smooth tip of his cock as you pepper kisses against his neck.
“Shou,” You mumble softly as you feel the water becoming tepid, your boyfriends body lax against your chest as he dozes softly, quiet snores rumble from his throat as you rouse him, “Waters cold.”
“This is more my temperature.” He grunts, eyes still tightly shut as he squeezes your knee.
“I’m getting cold,” You pout, prodding his side, “Lemme up.”
“Maybe I can do something to warm you up.” He grins, leaning forward so you can get up as swift arms reach up to grab your waist, manoeuvring you to settle in front of him as you squeal in surprise.
“Shou,” Your pleas fall on deaf ears as his hands disappear beneath the water, knuckles grazing your soft folds.
“Be quiet and listen to your king.”
#barou x reader#shoei barou x reader#bllk x reader#bllk smut#blue lock x reader#blue lock smut#barou smut#⚽️—barou
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Timber Timbre
The firework that sets him off is probably a Roman candle, and way closer than all the other ones have been, by Hen’s estimate. Eddie is on the ground before she can say anything and Hen’s blood runs a little cold at the realization of what’s happening.
“Eddie,” she says gently. “It’s still fireworks, it’s okay.”
Eddie is squatting low behind the kitchen island, head down, and he’s visibly shaking. He nods jerkily, but his breathing doesn’t slow at all. Hen’s heart hurts, but she’s careful not to get too close. She’s well versed in many a mental health crisis, but what to do when your friend is having combat flashbacks feels a little out of her depth. She gets low with him, keeps her tone soft and even. “How can I help, Eddie?”
His eyes are wild when they meet hers, his hands clenching around nothing like he’s physically clinging to the present. “Can you-“ he stutters. “Where is-? I need Buck.”
Hen is on her feet as quickly as she can without startling him. “I’ll find him, okay? You stay right here.”
Downstairs, Buck’s holding the heavy bag for Chim, saying something that was probably meant to be encouraging but comes out more antagonistic. Their shift into being brothers has obviously been going well. They both stop in their tracks when they see the look on Hen’s face.
“Eddie needs you.” It feels important to say it the way he did.
Another firework goes off then and Buck pales. “Oh, shit.”
Then he’s taking the stairs two at a time with Hen and Chim not far behind. “Kitchen.” She calls after him.
Eddie is where she left him, but now his hands are pressed against his ears. Buck squats down in front of him slowly, ducking his head so he can catch Eddie’s eye. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s me, I’m here.” He says, like it’s definitely not the first time.
He looks back and Hen and Chimney, whispers, “Can you guys sit with us a second?”
They nod, taking their places off to the left across from them, backs against the kitchen counter. Close enough if they need help, far enough away to keep their bubble intact. Hen’s grateful for the direction, and when Bobby comes out of his office, she waves him over, finger to her lips. He doesn’t question it, just squats down on Hen’s other side.
Eddie shudders, breathes hard out of his nose. Says, “Buck.” Real soft.
Buck nods, scoots closer at the recognition, reaches out to run his fingertips feather-light over Eddie’s forearms. “You’re in LA, Eddie. At the 118.”
Eddie gasps like he’s just reached the surface of water. “Doesn’t- doesn’t feel like it.”
Buck grimaces. “I know. I know, let’s go through it, okay?”
Eddie nods, once, lets Buck take his hands and keep going. “I feel,” Buck prompts.
Eddie closes his eyes. “Panicked.”
Buck nods, soft look on his face like pride. It makes Hen’s eyes water. Their boy has grown up so much.
“Because the fireworks made me think about,”
“The chopper going down. Getting shot at while the fire was burning. Greggs.” Eddie grits out through bared teeth.
Buck rubs his thumbs over the backs of Eddie’s hands. “But if I look around I can see,”
Eddie forces his eyes open with what looks like immense effort, trains them on Buck for a solid ten seconds before he looks around the rest of the room. “You. The 118. Bobby. Hen. Chimney.”
He looks at each of them in turn. Hen nods encouragingly, waves a little, which seems to increase the recognition on his face.
Buck smiles at him. “Yeah, that’s good, real good.”
Some of the tension seeps slowly from Eddie’s shoulders, and Buck rewards it with a squeeze of their joined hands. “Tell me what day it is.”
Another firework goes off in the distance and Hen wants to murder someone. Bobby looks like he’d help her without a second thought. The fucking audacity to set off explosives when you live by a firehouse is astounding.
Eddie winces but Buck stays firm with him, tapping his fingers rhythmically against Eddie’s knuckles. “What’s the date, Eds?”
“Fourth of July.”
“Exactly. Which means,”
“Morons.” Eddie answers, rote, like he’s been trained. The way Buck’s handling him right now, Hen supposes he has been.
“You got it.” He praises, pressing forward until his forehead rests against Eddie’s. “Chris was excited, though, remember?”
“Poke cake.” Eddie responds and Bobby smiles.
Midwestern traditions often mystify Hen, but Christopher was so excited to make that weird jello cake with Bobby and Buck that she couldn’t help but decide she loved that one. They spent all evening in Bobby and Athena’s kitchen last night, making gratuitously American dishes that should be objectively gross but that Denny and Chris were wild for. Poke cakes with red and blue jello, things being called “salad” that have never and will never be salad, and burgers that were always a welcome staple in Grant-Nash cookouts.
Buck is tapping his fingers on Eddie’s knees now, alternating as he prods Eddie to talk him through Christopher’s latest science project. Bilateral brain stimulation, her brain provides. Works for most long-term trauma treatment but can also be helpful during flashbacks. Evan “Internet Research Extraordinaire” Buckley certainly hasn’t been a slouch in this endeavor.
As he talks through Buck’s prompts, Eddie is slowly relaxing, sitting up on his own a bit more but shifting closer to Buck, tension slowly bleeding out of him as he points out the things he knows, the things he can see, what Bobby made for dinner, what Chimney’s favorite show is right now, what class he helped Hen run flashcards for. It makes Hen’s heart grow too big in her chest. To know that they’re a part of Eddie’s recovery, of him feeling safe.
“Where are you, Eddie?” Buck asks again after a few minutes of this. They’re side by side now, shoulders brushing as they lean back against the island cabinets.
Eddie takes a deep breath, sags a little against Buck. “I’m in LA. I’m at the 118 firehouse. You’re all here with me. Everyone’s safe.”
Hen smiles encouragingly at him, Chim says, “We’re here for you, man.”
Eddie looks away, mutters, “Esto es tan vergonzoso,” color staining his cheeks.
“Nuh uh.” Buck answers, firm. “None of that. No tienes nada de que avergonzarte.”
Hen knows Buck spent a while in Peru. Bartending, she thinks. She’s heard him speak Spanish to people on calls before, but his accent has historically been horrendous. It sounds like being in the Diaz orbit has been helpful for that. Hen doesn’t speak Spanish well, but she’s been in LA long enough to get the gist most of the time.
“Sorry you guys had to see that.” Eddie apologizes anyway, ignoring Buck.
Bobby shuts that down immediately. “Everybody’s got their demons, Eddie. We’re just happy we can help with yours.”
He tells Eddie he should take the rest of the night, even as Eddie protests that he’s fine and he doesn’t want to leave them hanging. “It’s just a few hours, Eddie. Take him home, Buck?”
Buck nods, looking relieved that he didn’t have to ask permission. Eddie still looks a little mortified, but it’s tempered by Bobby’s careful hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“When do you think they’ll give in and just get married?” Chim asks after Buck bundles Eddie into his Jeep.
Bobby snorts. “I’ve had the paperwork ready to go for years.”
Also on AO3
#9-1-1#evan buckley#eddie diaz#buddie#fic#i'm sorry i just can't stop thinking about Eddie relying on Buck to be a safe place for him#combat flashbacks#PTSD#oblivious idiots#i have so little patience for people who set off fireworks in their yards#also I love writing from Hen's perspective#Hen Wilson#Chimney Han#Bobby Nash#this lives in the same universe as Port in a Storm#Eddie and Buck being so close and yet still not ready to admit how they feel for each other my beloved
69 notes
·
View notes
Text
Following the events of season 4, Steve develops trauma associated with water
The shower water hits him too forcefully that he feels like he’s being attacked and sitting in the bathtub feels too comparable to the calm before being pulled under.
He tries to suck it up for the sake of being clean and maintaining his well-kept image, but as the weeks go on it’s getting harder and harder, and Steve just feels disgusting. He is disgusted by himself and he’s starting to avoid his friends because he just knows they would be disgusted too. Steve has lost himself.
Eddie pops around to Steve’s place on a Tuesday while the kids are at school and Robin is working. It’s not uncommon for Eddie to show up when he’s bored, but with Steve avoiding them, it’s been a week or so since Eddie’s ‘popped in’.
Steve opens the door only because Eddie is banging and yelling and carrying on enough to warrant a noise complaint from Steve’s nosy neighbours. He opens the door only the tiniest bit because the last person he wants to see is Eddie; if Eddie - who doesn’t even know where the laundromat is - makes him feel unclean, then he’s going to disintegrate.
Except, Eddie wedges his way in - zero awareness or care as he practically invites himself into Steve’s house. He doesn’t question Steve’s state or suggest he’s grossed out.
“You good, dude?”
And boy, does Steve crumble.
Steve tells Eddie - who, other than the bond created by the Upside Down, he shares very little with - everything. He sobs to Eddie about the crippling feeling in his chest, calling himself stupid - swim captain can’t stand in his fucking shower without collapsing like a little girl. He chokes his way through ramblings about not knowing who he is and how the last three years have all caught up to him at once - landing on him in a heap.
Eddie just listens. He wraps an arm around Steve and tries to soothe him with shushing much gentler than Steve thought Eddie could manage.
Once Steve had finally let it all out, Eddie tells him about how he hasn’t slept comfortably in weeks, afraid of gates opening in his trailer and swallowing him hole. Or that if he does close his eyes, then he’s too afraid to open them - assured that he’ll see Chrissy stuck to the ceiling above him.
“We’re both going crazy, Harrington… but it’ll be okay.”
Eddie wordlessly walks Steve into his bathroom, starting the bathtub and stripping himself down to his boxers.
“I won’t let whatever it is that you think is coming for you, take you. I’m not going anywhere.”
At first, Steve feels his whole body go cold, but as Eddie sits on the side of the tub and extends a hand, Steve thinks for the first time in weeks, he might be able to do it without scream-crying into his hands. He strips down to his boxers and takes Eddie’s hand with shaky fingers, stepping one foot gingerly into the ankle-high water.
“You got this.”
As Steve sits, Eddie turns the water off, leaving Steve in just five inches of water; Steve’s just glad the tap isn’t running gunfire into his ears. Eddie moves to sit at the end of the tub, just his feet in the water before handing Steve the soap.
Steve makes the best start he can, shaky hands running soapy circles over his arms and torso. Under any normal circumstance, he might be apprehensive to be so close to naked in front of someone he barely knows, but something about their matching scars, makes Steve feel at ease.
As Steve runs the suds down to his legs, the water billows against his thighs. Suddenly, he feels like he’s rocking, floating in water with a depth he can’t determine and his hands shake enough to make splashes as he tries not to cry.
“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Eddie reaches for Steve, pulling him between his legs as gently as he can - not wanting Steve to feel like he is being taken anywhere against his will. Eddie, without hesitation, reaches for the shampoo and begins gently working it into Steve’s locks while whispering gentle encouragement. He rinses Steve’s hair with a cup, making sure not a drop hits his face and then runs warm, soapy hands over Steve’s back. By the time Eddie’s thick thumbs are rubbing against Steve’s tense shoulders, the younger man’s head is tipped slightly sideways and resting against Eddie’s thigh. It’s such a pretty sight, and under any other circumstances, Eddie would consider it a win for his middle school self.
Once Steve is clean and rinsed, Eddie helps him out of the tub and wraps a towel around his body. Steve catches a glimpse of himself in the wide mirror and smiles softly.
“Looking good, Harrington.”
Steve glances at Eddie, whose look of pride is enough for Steve to feel like he climbed Mount Everest today.
“Eddie… if you wanna go lie down in my room and get some sleep… I’ll stay with you.”
#steveddie#eddie munson#st4#steddie#steve harrington#steve x eddie#stranger things#stranger things 4#steddie fanfic#steddie fic#steve harrington/eddie munson#steddie imagine#eddie x steve#stranger things fic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
almost lost you {s.h}
Plot: You're Steve Harrington's best friend so of course you're going to follow him into the depths of the lake and into the Upside Down. He's pissed that you've risked your life for him but when he sees that you're injured, your relationship shifts.
Character: Steve Harrington x Plus Size Female Reader
Warnings; MDNI, 18+, SMUT, NSFW, blood, wounds, gore, sex, soft sex
Word count: 11.6k
this is my favourite thing i've ever written
Of course you'd followed him down here, of course you weren't just going to leave your best friend to drown and/or be taken to the Upside Down and be killed. You were never a strong swimmer but you'd be damned if you weren't going to save that stupid boy. Reacting on blind adrenaline, you abandon your jacket in the boat, grab an oar and then you dive into the lake.
The water is freezing, prickling your skin like needles, but you barely register it. You have to get to him. It's a lot deeper than you expected and by the time you reach the red, glowing gate your lungs burn for sweet oxygen. Grimacing, your hand reaches out, pushing through the fleshy gate before you push your entire self through and all you can think in that moment is that you hope there's no more swimming involved.
Your back hits cold hard ground as you lay there gasping for air, thankfully no more water. You'd landed on concrete. It doesn't take long before you jump up, dripping wet and undeniably in the Upside Down, and start hitting everything in sight. They were like bats with big wings and long tails and they swarm you. You whack them with everything you have before they break away and then you see Steve a few metres away. He's being choked, strangled by one of the bat's tails, arms and legs flailing to find something to get it off of him. You spring into action, barrelling over to the bat and hitting with all of the strength you could muster. Bats swarm and attack you with teeth like razors slicing into your skin but you couldn't care about that now. You have to help Steve. With a final thwack! the bat that had been strangling him dropped down, releasing Steve's neck. It lay on the ground, twitching and making a faint screeching noise so you whack it a few more times making sure it's finally dead before dropping to Steve, "Are you okay?!"
"I told you not to follow me!" His voice is a croaky yell as he pants hard, "You shouldn't be in here! Not you!"
"You think I'm not going to follow you into the depths of hell? Oh, Harrington, we're too far into this friendship for that. I'd follow you to Mordor." He rolls his eyes at your Lord of the Rings reference, far too used to you and your nerdy comments.
"It's too dangerous-" he cuts himself off, realising that blood dribbles from various cuts on your arms, "You're bleeding."
"I'm fine," you tell him strongly and honestly you do feel fine. The adrenaline is coursing around your body and right now, you don't feel any of the wounds, "I'm fine. They're just scratches." He accepts this, leaning back to take deep breaths as the rest of your friends appear each more horrified than the last (Eddie's last to come and judging by his scream of 'what the fucking shit is this?!' you can tell he's pretty freaked), "Can you stand?"
He nods and with your outstretched hand, you help him up. Once he's up, he looks around, "You all came down?"
Eddie runs his hands through his wild curls, "Dude, they all came down and I didn't want to be the only one not here."
The five of you look around. It's terrifying down here. The whole place looks familiar but it just feels off; uncanny valley or whatever they call it. It looks like Hawkins but an evil version of it. The sky crackles above you, lightning and thunder casting an eerie red glow over the Upside Down town. You look to the ground and see that the tendrils, the long fleshy veins, are everywhere.
"Be careful where you step," Nancy says, "it's a hivemind so it's all connected. You step on it, it knows we're here." Everyone knows it's more so pointed at Robin who can never seem to keep her balance even when standing perfectly still.
Robin nods, "I can do that," she murmurs to herself as the five of you begin to walk in the direction of the Creel House. You don't know who she's trying to convince more; the four of you or herself.
There's an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Steve's shoulder brushes yours and you immediately feel the dread die down for a moment. You breathe in a deep breath and puff out your chest as you continue walking.
As the lot of you tread through the Upside Down, you begin to feel slightly hazy, just around the edges at first as though you've just woken up and you're trying to shake off the tired and then it wrapped you up all at once. One minute you're beside him and the next, you've dropped to the floor, eyes rolling. Steve yells out, alerting his friends, as he falls beside you, hands on your cheeks. He's shouting your name, shaking you when he realises that your jeans at the thigh are dark and wet... you're bleeding. He pulls back the fabric and sees a large bite wound. He'd known you'd gotten scratched but you'd told him it was fine, not sore and not deep. He mentally curses you.
"I can help," Nancy says quickly as she rips her shirt, pulling a thick part of fabric off, "Move out the way and I'll bandage her leg."
Steve shakes his head, "I have to do it." He can't lose you; he has to be the one who saves you. He has to be the one to do it. He keeps talking to you, asking if you can hear him but you're not waking up. Panic surges inside of him, heart beating quicker as he stares down at you. Why aren't you waking up?
His hands are clumsy and shaking as Nancy hands him the piece of fabric from her now ripped shirt. Four years into this and they'd still never thought to bring a first aid kit wherever they went. The ripped cloth of the t-shirt would have to do and once tied tight, it would at least apply pressure and hopefully stop the bleeding. Steve's eyes dart to your face, scanning your face to see if you're awake. He's talking to you the whole time, panicked and adrenaline fuelled sentences that he doesn't remember.
"You gotta open your eyes, (y/n). Show me those pretty eyes."
"You think I'm really worth all this fuss?"
"You just had to follow me in here, didn't you?"
"I need you to open your eyes and speak to me, (y/n). I need to know that you're okay. Please."
"Please don't leave me."
You can hear him but it's all fuzzy. It sounds like you're underwater, he sounds far away. It feels peaceful but you fight and you fight hard. It takes every bit of strength you have to open your eyelids which feel like they're weighted down, it's brief but it's good enough. He breathes a sigh of relief as he sees your eyes fluttering, you're alive but you're slipping in and out of consciousness, world feeling hazy as you lay on the ground.
"Hey," he says, voice loud enough to wake you up but quiet enough that the rest of the group wouldn't hear, "you gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me, (y/n)."
You blink up at him, wiggling your fingers as the sensations of your body flood back to you, the pain floods back hitting hard and making you groan out. Steve asks if you're okay and all you can respond with is, "M'awake."
"Keep it that way." He holds up the makeshift bandage, "This is gonna hurt."
You're all banged up, covered in cuts scrapes and bites but the bite on your leg is the worst. Between the two of you, you're able to peel back the ripped jeans on your thigh to expose the bleeding wound. Steve grimaces, "That good, huh?" He doesn't respond and instead pulls the fabric around your leg tightly. You wince, hissing out in pain but you let him continue as he tries his hardest to be gentle by wrapping it tightly around your thigh before tying it tight. The pain from your wound is forcing you to be awake and conscious, sending streams of curse words out of your mouth. It hurts and it hurts bad, it burns and stings with every movement. Your whole body wants to sleep but the wound pulsing under the bandage won't let you and you're thankful for it. One of his hands is on your arm, never wanting to part with you, and all he can do is watch as you breathe hard, teeth grit, as you manage to sit up.
"Motherfucker," you hiss, "that hurts worse than that time I catapulted off the wall up behind Benny's and landed on that rock."
Despite everything, he manages a small smile and a breath of laughter, "Your mom never forgave me for that one even though it was your idea." He glances down at your leg, looking at the bloodied cloth, "That should hopefully stop the bleeding."
Nancy glances into the sky and realises that the bats are coming back and there are hoards of them this time, "Uh, guys?" She asks, voice tense.
Steve looks over at her and then follows her gaze upwards. Fuck. You do it too and you know that there's no time. You have to move. All you want to do right now is curl into a ball in bed - in Steve's bed - like that one time when you drunk and you fell asleep wrapped up together cause that's just what friends do, right?
"I'm okay," you tell him nodding and just like Robin not long ago, you don't know who you're trying to convince more, "just... help me up will you?"
Steve's strong hands pull you up and immediately wrap you in a tight hug, "Don't ever do that to me again," he huffs breath tickling your neck, "I thought I was about to lose you."
"You can't get rid of me that easy, Harrington." You thought that joking would help the situation but no, if anything it made him worse. He's shaking; absolutely terrified from the ordeal of thinking he'd lost you. He pulled back, heart hammering in his chest, as he stares down at his hands that are smeared with your blood. His eyes are glassy and he looks like he's about to cry. You take a breath, taking his hands in yours, "Hey," you whisper, forcing his attention away from his hands and to you instead, "I'm here, okay? I'm alright; bruised and bloodied but I'm alive, Steve, okay?"
"I can't lose you." It's an admission of some sort, not a full blown 'I love you' but it's pretty damn close. It makes your heart race and all you can do is hug him again, pulling him in tight. For a moment, just a moment, everything faded away around the two of you and you could close your eyes and pretend that everything's okay.
The moment's over all too soon when Nancy clears her throat from up ahead. You look over to her and she gives you an apologetic smile. It's time to go.
"Out of the frying pan," you say, taking Steve's hand tightly.
"And into the fire."
Walking isn't an easy task, you're slow and unsteady and with every step, you want to yell out in pain. Steve stays at your side, supporting you as much as he can, "I could carry you, you know... At the very least just a piggy back ride." You're holding everyone up and there's not enough time to let you go at your own pace, you have to move quicker but each time you try, the pain burns stronger.
Quickly, you shake your head, "Over my dead body."
"Yeah, well it might have to be if you're walking this damn slow," he snaps half serious, "Seriously, (y/n), let me lift you."
You push back from him. It's been years since someone picked you up, last time someone did they commented on how heavy you were and how you should think about losing some weight. You were humiliated that day so never again. You had a complicated relationship with your body, in some things you really liked the way your body filled out clothes, in other aspects you hated it. It wasn't a secret that you were fat, people had eyes and they could see it obviously, but it's like when your friend has a very obvious massive red spot on their face - you see it but you just don't speak about it. You don't voice things that could very well be an insecurity for some people.
"Steve, I- I'm too heavy." You feel pathetic as you say it and you can't look at him. You hate that you still have these worries and insecurities but after years of society telling you how you should look of course it had an impact on you.
Steve stops.
He ducks his head to look at you with sad eyes. He hates that you're ashamed of yourself in this way when in his eyes you're absolutely perfect. "Let me help you, (y/n), please," he says quietly so the others don't hear, "You won't hurt me, you're not too heavy, I'm strong and I can get us there faster... It'll help your leg, it'll let you rest it even for a while."
"You're not going to... to laugh at me for how heavy I am?"
Something bubbles up inside him in that moment and all he wants to do is wrap you up and keep you away from all the bad things in life. My god, he wants to kiss those insecurities away, make you realise that you're the prettiest goddamn girl in the world. No one comes close. He shakes his head, strands of his perfect hair falling out of place, and he takes one of your hands, "I'd never do that. You're not going to be heavy for me just let me help you."
If it had to be someone, you would've picked Steve so with a sigh, you relent and he crouches so that you can jump onto his back. You almost forget about the pain in your leg as the nerves burn hard in the pit of your stomach. He lifts you with a surprising amount of ease, jumping to readjust you so that his hand isn't anywhere near your injured leg, "Comfy?" He asks as he starts walking.
"If I'm too heavy you can just put me down, it's okay. I'll walk faster, you don't have to-"
"(y/n)," he cuts over your rambling, "I've got you, don't worry. Just take a breath and chill out for a bit." He begins to walk and catches up with the group on their path to the Creel House. Nancy and Robin glance at you both before catching the other's eye and giving the other a knowing smile.
You bury your head in the crook of Steve's neck, breathing long and deep. Steve can't think straight. All he can focus on is the way your breath is hot against his cool skin and the way your lips gently graze his neck with every step. The feelings that he thought he'd buried down long ago burn violently under the surface. Dustin would be screaming 'I told you so' if he was here right now. For years Dustin had been trying to get Steve to realise the true nature of his feelings for you and finally, fucking finally, it was happening. He shakes his head, trying to ignore the pounding of his heart when your lips graze his skin, and instead he tries to focus on the task at hand.
Everything's over, it's done... at least for now.
You manage to get back to Steve's house in one piece, the five of you traumatised and dirty. Steve's house was empty as usual, his parents both working out of state, so the five of you crowded in Steve's car, Steve driving and you in the passenger seat with his hand in yours. The five of you cram into Steve's car, bloodied and bruised and knackered but you're all alive. Steve drives through Hawkins but his focus is entirely on you. Since your injuries, he hadn't stopped touching you; holding your hand, arms wrapped around you... He had to keep touching you, had to keep reminding himself that you were okay. Every now and then, his thumb brushes over the bloodied skin of your hand. Dustin, Lucas and Max had radioed a while back to say that they got home okay, they'd nearly been caught by police but managed to escape so it was just a straight drive to Steve's. It felt strange being back in Hawkins. You hadn't been away for too long in the Upside Down but returning as though life was normal was a weird one. Things weren't normal; things were pretty fucking strange.
As the five of you enter Steve's house, Nancy darts off to the phone. She'll be trying to get a hold of Jonathan. Eddie asks if Steve's got any beer, Steve points him in the direction of the kitchen and Robin follows in search for food.
It's just you and Steve standing in the hallway.
"How's your leg?" He asks you.
"Fucking killer," you frown, looking down at the bloodied state of your jeans. You hadn't realised just how much you'd bled with being in the tinted red Upside Down since it was kind of hard to see but now it was a stark contrast against your light blue jeans even in the darkness of the night.
"You wanna go shower first?"
You nod quickly. The thought of a shower appeals to you, being able to wash off the dirt, grime and blood and getting to properly clean your wound, oh it sounds like bliss. The only thing that halts you - as you attempt to very slowly climb the stairs - is that Steve obviously won't be in there with you. For the entirety of the night, since jumping into the lake and heading into the Upside Down, Steve had been by your side, constantly touching you in some way, and now... you weren't ready for that to stop. Things had changed, things that you weren't sure you could keep a secret for much longer, and you weren't ready to be apart from him, not yet; not ever.
You glance back at him and he seems to know what you're thinking. He can tell by the panicked look in your eye and he quickly nods and says, "I'll be right outside the door, I promise."
He helps you as much as he can upstairs, holding you up while you hiss and curse in agony as pains shoot up your leg, and helps you into his bedroom. He raids his closet and finds an old jersey of his, it's big and baggy and it'll definitely fit you, before he grabs a pair of stretchy gym shorts from his closet, "Here," he says as he hands you it, "change into these and we'll wash your clothes. We'll get everyone's stuff washed actually."
You're quiet as you nod and pad slowly back to the bathroom, Steve behind you. He slides down the wall, sitting on the floor just to the left of the bathroom door, "I'll wait here, take as long as you need." You're hesitant to leave him but you know that there's no way around this so you thank him and close the door behind you. As soon as you're in the bathroom, you want to turn back and find comfort in his arms but you force yourself to move forwards towards the shower. You have no other choice but to shower, you need to get cleaned up and you'd already prolonged that for long enough.
Stripping off your clothes is harder than you thought it was going to be, they're stuck to you, stuck to your skin from dampness, sweat and blood. You manage to peel your t-shirt off before chucking it to the floor. You take a breath as your hands work gently to untie the makeshift bandage around your leg. You curse loudly and Steve's calling out after you, asking if you're alright.
"Fine," your voice is tense as you try and breathe the pain away, "just getting these stupid jeans off. Leg's agony."
"Once you're cleaned I'll get the first aid kit and patch you up, give you painkillers too." He wishes that he could do more, that it could've been him instead of you that got badly hurt but there's nothing he can do now. All he can do is try and help you be comfortable.
"Can you talk to me about something? I need a distraction so I can pull these jeans off."
Immediately, he straightens and starts talking to you about the time in sixth grade when William Denver got a pencil lodged in his ear after a dare gone wrong. It was the distraction you needed as you managed to pull your jeans down with some ease and some pain. You stay standing for a minute just listening to him talking, it's nice; he's nice. You like that he didn't even question it, he just produced a memory from random and started rambling about it. He never made you feel silly or like you were asking for too much, he just did whatever you needed him to.
"Steve?" You say after a minute .
"Yeah?"
"You can stop talking, I did it."
"How does the wound look?"
"Gonna be honest, Harrington, I'm not fucking looking at it." It was the truth. You don't want to look at the wound, not yet. You'll wait until it was clean to do that. If you look now, you'd freak out so instead, you climb into the shower and almost instantly, you feel a million times better.
As Steve sat outside, scraping blood from under his nails, he couldn't get something that Eddie had said to him out of his head.
"It was (y/n), dude. As soon as you were pulled under, she was off like a shot. I've never seen anyone move that fast. She didn't even think about it, just dove in straight after you... You've got a good one there, dude. Can tell she really loves you."
Was that true? Did you love him? The questions whirred around Steve's mind and it was all he could focus on, nothing else except you. Things had changed and it was obvious, even to the two of you.
The water is hot but not too hot that it hurts. You stand in the shower just letting the water rush over you for what feels like forever, you're just enjoying avoiding looking at the bottom of the bathtub. When you finally look, it shocks you that it's still red, that there's still so much blood and grime on your skin that it's still turning the running water red. It makes your stomach flip and makes your eyes fill with tears. You'd hoped that by the time you opened your eyes, the only reminder about what happened that night would be the bite on your leg but when you open your eyes, the reminder is still all over you. You're still caked with dirt and blood, sticking to each and every crevice of you. With outstretched hands, you steady yourself against the wall as the reality of the whole situation hits you. It hits you hard from Steve choking to you passing out to the piggy back to the events in the Creel house... it all hits you like a train and you can't hold back the sobs that wrack your body. All you want to do is curl up and cry and sleep and pretend everything was normal.
It's too much. It's all too much. Steve was used to this life but you weren't, he'd always kept you safe from this world and now here you were, standing in the shower covered in blood; your blood, your friends blood and strange creature's blood. Bile rose in your throat as you desperately try and calm down. Your whole body is shaking as reality hits you, the adrenaline from diving into the lake to save your best friend stayed in the Upside Down, it didn't come back. You don't feel brave anymore but instead weak and scared.
Steve hears you. He can hear the sobs that come from you though drowned out by the shower but he hears and it breaks his heart. He looks at his hands which have dried blood coating them; your blood. He knows the feeling that's crashing over you, he knows how intense and overwhelming those moments are so he does the only thing he can do. He begins to talk loudly so that you can hear him over the noise of the shower, he doesn't know what he's talking about, he's just talking. He needs to fill the space, needs you to concentrate on something other than the panic and dread that's nestled and made its home so very deep inside of you.
You frown as you try and control your crying to listen. He's rambling about the time in eighth grade when he decided to skateboard off of the top of his garage and he ended up with a broken ankle. Rambling about how freaked out he was seeing the blood and the bone and how calm you were, about how you calmed him down told him that he'd be okay. You were the one who calmed him down with jokes in the ambulance ride to hospital and when they told him he'd need surgery, it was you who made him feel better by saying he'd have such a cool scar. It was you who waited hours on him coming out even despite your mom not being happy since it was a school night. It was you who visited first. It was you who signed his cast first.
"You've always been the strong one, (y/n). Always been the one to help me out... Always been you."
You'd been so focused on listening that your body worked in autopilot, scrubbing your skin hard of all of the grime and blood and when he was finished, you realised that you were almost done too. You catch a glance or two at your thigh, the wound is angry and red and it's deep but it's not as bad as it once looked. You scrub your nails furiously, trying to get the blood that's jammed under them out, before turning the water off.
You can hear him talking to someone outside the door, it sounds like Robin. You dry yourself off, careful not to irritate your thigh too much, before pulling on his jersey and shorts. They fit and they fit baggy which surprises you. They must've been huge on Steve. You wipe the steamed up mirror to look at the blurry vision of you. You like it, you like wearing his clothes. They smell like him, a mixture of cologne, pine and vanilla. You love that smell.
It's not much longer before he's knocking on the door, "You alright?"
You don't reply and instead just open the door. He almost can't function as you stand there in his clothes. It's an old jersey and shorts but oh my god, you make them look incredible. Something within him stirs, something possessive and feral inside of him but it's forgotten about after a second when you ask him if he's alright, "You're just staring at me, you good?" You feel self-conscious under his gaze because he's never looked at you like that before, at least not that you've been aware of. You shift in his jersey, self-consciously tugging at the hem to pull it down so it wasn't clinging to your stomach.
"I, uh, yeah. I'm fine." He nods quickly, "Robin came up a couple minutes ago. Her and Nancy are gonna use the downstairs shower so pointed them in the direction of my mom's closet for clothes. Eddie's just showered and is wandering about in his boxers so just don't look." You manage a small smile, "She says that Nancy's making some food if you wanted to go down-" He sees the absolute look of terror in your eyes, "Or you can wait here for me coming out the shower?" You nod quickly, "Okay, that's fine. I'll try to not take too long." He smiles knowing that you don't want to be away from him, he doesn't want to be away from you either. He grabs himself a clean towel and something to change into before disappearing into the hot and steamy bathroom.
You awkwardly manage to slide down the wall without irritating your leg too much as you wait for him to finish. You try and shut your mind off, not wanting to be alone with your thoughts for any longer than necessary, so you distract yourself with any means necessary.
You think back to when you and Steve were twelve and had thrown a party for the two of you in your basement. You'd stolen your dad's old records as the two of you danced around, wired to the moon on sugar and candy. A song had come on, Life On Mars - David Bowie, and the two of you were in total amazement. It swiftly became 'your song' as Steve dubbed it. It wasn't romantic like most couples songs were but it was a song that the two of you would dance around the room and sing loudly in the car to. You began to hum it quietly to yourself trying to stay focused in the memory of that silly party the two of you threw.
He doesn't take too long but it's been long enough when it hits the fifteen minute mark. You feel on edge. You know that he's just on the other side of the door but you don't feel right knowing that he's not there beside you. Your hands fidget nervously with the hem of the jersey as you breathe in his scent from it to keep calm. You long abandoned humming David Bowie as after five minutes, you were driving yourself insane, and instead spent the last ten minutes with your eyes squeezed shut head pressed back against the wall as you try and calm the rising panic.
The door swings open a few minutes later and there he is, standing there freshly cleaned and washed with his sopping wet hair still looking perfect and a clean t-shirt and shorts on. You reach out for him to help you up and when he does, you throw your arms around him tightly. You need to feel him, need to know he's okay and he's safe. He seems to need this embrace as much as you do as he responds by tightly pulling you against him, bodies flush against the other, warm and damp. His hands grip onto the fabric of your material as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, "I almost lost you," he breathes out. His voice is thick and you can tell that he's close to tears. He can't get over how close he came to losing you. It put everything into perspective for him then, made him realise that life was too short to continue pretending that there wasn't obviously something between the two of you.
"I almost lost you," you murmur as tears build in your eyes, lips once again grazing over the skin of his neck, "I saw you go under and I just- I didn't even think I just jumped in after you." Steve closed his eyes briefly, so what Eddie had told him was true.
It almost doesn't feel real what happened tonight. The whole thing, even this standing in the safe arms of Steve Harrington, it feels like you could blink and be back in the Upside Down so you cling to him and he clings back just as hard. Neither of you cry but the fact that you both welled up over nearly losing the other proved the point regardless.
It's not until you hear someone padding upstairs that the two of you break apart, though his hand holds yours, it's Nancy. She's wearing pyjamas that belonged to Steve's mom, loose and baggy on her, "Food's ready," her voice is quiet and her smile is apologetic knowing that she's just walked into something that she shouldn't be seeing.
Steve nods before he gathers yours and his clothes and then he leads you slowly downstairs to go and eat. Steve tells you that you'll eat then he'll patch your leg up. The smell hits you when you walk into the kitchen; pizza, chicken nuggets and fries. Nancy had raided the freezer and put on a feast for everyone. You didn't think you were hungry until you got there and saw the food. Steve bundles together everyone's clothes and chucks them into the washing machine, pouring a healthy amount of detergent in before turning it on. It's only then as the five of you crowd round the table, chairs squeaking as you pull them in, that you feel the hunger. You all eat in silence the only noise that can be heard is chewing and the grumble of the washing machine. Usually you didn't like eating in front of people, you got worried about what they'd think about your portion size or made a comment but right now you didn't care. With Steve's hand on your knee, you couldn't care about anything else right now. It doesn't take long before the food's finished and you're all guzzling on the water bottles that Nancy had placed on the table.
It's then that you look around the table, looking at everyone. Everyone's clean, smelling of vanilla body wash and coconut shampoo, with clean clothes that are a little loose and baggy (aside from Eddie who only wears boxers but he's wrapped the throw from the couch around himself) but the angry red scrapes, scratches and cuts that litter everyone's limbs are hard to hide. Nancy's managed to shower, change, cook dinner and even managed to treat hers, Robin's and Eddie's scrapes and cuts in the time it took you and Steve to shower. Impressive.
Once the food's finished, everyone scatters. No one really talks aside from their 'thank you's to Nancy. Steve gathers the plates up and puts them in the sink. You wait. He'll wash them in the morning he decides before moving to the counter where Nancy had left the first aid box. He grabs it and wiggles it in his hand, "You ready?"
You nod, "Let's get it over with."
He kneels down in front of you as you sit in the chair, "Can I?" He asks as he nods to the shorts you're wearing. You nod. Robin walks into the kitchen and quickly backs away, the scene unfolding far too intimate for anyone else to see. She warns Nancy and Eddie to stay away. Steve hands are gentle as he rolls your shorts upwards to get to your mid thigh. It's then you both get a good look at your wound. It's angry and raw but it looks better. The bleeding stopped a while ago so that's a good sign. Still hurts like hell though.
He rummages through the first aid box, finding a wipe and a large plaster, "It's gonna hurt." He tells you as he tears open the antiseptic wipe. You nod quickly and with a tender hand, he cleans it. It stings and burns but you aren't focusing on the cut, you're looking at Steve. You're looking at the way his hair falls into his vision and he blows it away with an upwards puff of air. You're watching the way his brow furrows in concentration as he gnaws on his lower lip making sure to not cause any further harm to you.
He grabs stuff to dress it with, glancing up at you, doing a double take when he realises that you're staring at him, "I'm not hurting you am I?"
You shake your head, "No, you're fine."
He goes back to gently dressing your wound and before you know it, he's finished. You go to pull away but Steve reaches out, "You forgot the most crucial part of patching up a wound," he chides, that playful tone once again back where it belongs. You frown but before you can ask what he means, his head ducks low and his lips graze the skin above the dressing. It's so soft and gentle that you wouldn't have known he'd done it had you not been staring at him with wide eyes. Where he kisses feels hot but not from the wound rather from him. Your heart beats fast in your chest and your cheeks feel like they're on fire, "There." His breath tickles over your skin. He lingers for a few seconds, too long for a friend, before he pulls back and stands up leaving you sitting there absolutely stunned.
He smirks as he turns away from you, discarding the empty wrappers in the bin, he knows what he's doing to you. Hope burns strong inside him, hope that maybe this is it; this is his chance, your chance. When he turns around you tell him to sit down, "Mine are fine," he says with a shake of the head, "not as bad as yours."
"So?" You ask with a raised brow, "Sit."
He complies.
You grab some plasters that were at the bottom of the box which happen to be some yellow and red plasters with various wild animals on them. Steve laughs slightly, "Seriously?" He asks as you grab a wipe to clean him.
"It's the only plasters you've got, not my fault Harrington."
He rolls his eyes but humours you and lets you dab his cuts carefully before sticking down the plasters. You only plaster the ones that are deeper so he ends up with some on his arms and one on his left temple. He goes to stand up, "Wait," you tell him fighting off a smirk, "you forgot the most crucial part of patching up a wound." His eyes widen slightly and his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. Two can play at your game, Harrington. Slowly, you duck your head to press gentle kisses to the cuts on his arms, lips lingering just as his did. Steve swallows hard. It's taking everything to control himself right now and even then, he's barely controlling himself. He can't stop thinking about the way your lips feel, soft and warm on his skin, and he can't stop thinking about how they'd feel against his own.
Your heart is beating harder but you don't let it show as you lean in close to him. Steve's eyes are trained on you, never wavering, entirely focused on your next move. You press a gentle kiss to his temple, your hand rests on his knee for leverage. Steve swallows hard again and you secretly smile knowing that you're having some form of effect on him. He can smell you, smell the shampoo in your hair that he uses, he can smell his jersey on you and he loves that he can smell himself on you. Again, that primal urge rises in him but he pushes it away as you lean back and sit back down in your chair.
"Uh... thanks," he says as he clears his throat. You like seeing him like this, flustered and flushed, "How's it feel?" He asks referring to your wound.
"Better." Your cheeks feel hot as you replay the moment of him kissing your thigh over and over in your head. He stands up and takes your hand before slowly leading you out of the kitchen and into the living room. You like the way his hand feels in yours, warm and large.
Eddie's set up camp for the night there, laying on the couch under a blanket with a cushion shoved under his head. Robin's curled in the armchair almost half asleep but Steve taps her leg and tells her to go to the guest room, Nancy too who was coming downstairs carrying blankets. Without a word, the two girls nod and head upstairs.
You and Steve aren't far behind them, following them up after he locks the door. There's no question of where you're sleeping, not an utterance of a word about it, instead it's just quiet acceptance. He makes sure that Nancy and Robin are comfortable before leading you into his bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.
Nerves bubble in your stomach. It's different. You've been in Steve's room hundreds of times over the years of being friends. You'd slept in this room plenty before too on duvets on the floor and once in his bed curled up with him after a drunken party. This time though... it feels different. It doesn't feel like sleeping over with a friend because well, he's not a friend anymore. You aren't sure how he feels about you but you know that this isn't how friends treat each other. You don't want to get your hopes up just in case but they're there, niggling under the surface of your skin.
It's only when you're in his room with the door closed, you're unsure what to do next. Steve's not shy and he knows exactly where you're going to be. He walks to his side of the bed and lifts the duvet to get in, "Well?" He asks, "Hurry up and get in here."
He doesn't need to tell you twice.
Your heart beats fast as you climb into bed beside him. The bed smells like him, it smells like home. Steve watches you the whole time, the words he wants to say are right there on the tip of his tongue, locked behind his teeth but he's not feeling brave anymore so he stays silent. There's a certain tension in the air that you both feel as you lie on your sides, facing each other. Your heart hammers in your chest as your mind whirs with the possibilities of what might be.
The moon seems to be right outside of Steve's open windows, shining in bright so that you can see him, he's a duller and darker version in this light but he's still Steve; your Steve. You look up at him from behind long lashes and you find his eyes boring into yours, roaming and searching, looking for an answer to the question that he hasn't asked. It seems to click then, to both of you, that this was something more than what is once was or maybe this is way it always had been but it was only now you were realising it. He shifts closer and you do too as his eyes switch from your lips to your eyes. The burning desire to kiss someone has never been this strong before.
All you can hear is the beat of your heart in your ears like a drum, faster and faster, as you inch closer to him. He finds one of your hands lost under the sheets and takes it, clasping your fingers together tightly. It's then when you look up and realise that you're almost pressed together. Steve swallows, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat, as his breath tickles over your face.
It happens.
You're not sure who moved in first, it was more like a joint effort to meet in the middle. Your eyes flutter shut as Steve closes the gap between your lips, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. It's a small kiss, gentle and it doesn't last long but in that moment, everything slots together and you feel like everything's right again. He's testing the waters with this kiss, keeps it short and sweet before he pulls back a few centimetres, eyes scanning your face for some kind of regret or negativity but he doesn't find it.
Your mind reels from the fact that you and Steve just kissed. Your stomach is a jumble of nerves overlapping each other and writhing deep in the pit of your stomach. That few seconds where you're just staring at each other, eyes searching for confirmation, seemed to solidify something for the two of you, a silent agreement, consent and before you knew it, it was a push and a pull of bodies. Your free hand tangles in his shirt, pulling him close as his pulls you in at the waist.
No other kiss has ever felt like this one. It's fast and hard, smashing of lips and clashing tongues. It's hungry and passionate, it's a 'finally' moment, a breath of fresh air, a breath of relief. You've never been kissed like this before; never been kissed with such intensity and passion behind it. He kisses you like it means something because to him, it does; it means everything.
With a swift kick, he shoves the sheets to the floor where they gather in a pile. He rolls you onto your back and shifts without breaking the kiss so that he's over you, hands on either side of your head as you kiss. His knee moves between your legs, parting them, and pushing upwards. You gasp, breaking the kiss, at the sudden friction between your legs.
He snaps back.
His eyes roam your face again as your brow furrows. He worries that he's gone too far, moved too fast, but you grab a handful of his cotton shirt and pull him back down to kiss you. There's a new found confidence within you, allowing you to grab him and kiss him which you wouldn't have done before, you kiss him hard and he seems to get the hint that you want this, that you want him.
You almost feel like you need to be pinched, like at any moment you're going to open your eyes and you'll be somewhere else; that this is all a dream. For years, you'd had a crush on him but you thought it would always just be a secret and never be reciprocated but here he is, kissing you as though his goddamn life depends on it. You. He's kissing you. If 14 year old you could see you now. Well maybe not the scenes that would unfold in the next few minutes but my god, it would be the biggest confidence boost knowing that you, despite your weight and despite your size, would have Steve Harrington fawning over you. It felt good to be wanted, it felt right.
Soon the kiss turns needy and desperate as heat pools between your legs. Your hips push downwards into his knee trying to feel the friction through the cotton shorts that you wear. Steve's lips pull away from yours, extracting an audible whine from you, as he moves to your cheek, your jaw, your neck, your shoulder. He kisses everywhere, peppering small kisses on the soft skin before finding the spot on your neck that makes your gasp and makes your back arch. His hands are on your sides, dancing the hem of the jersey you wear up, and it's then it kicks in. Your hand darts out to catch his, stopping it in its place.
He stops.
"Am I going too fast- dammit, shit, sorry, sweetheart. I-I got carried away-"
You shush his worries and cut off his rambling before you answer him softly, "Self-conscious." Your voice is a mere whisper and Steve's face immediately softens. You'd never really had anyone touch you like this, with so much care and love and it makes you so aware of all of your imperfections. The worry that sits in the back of your mind, too, is that you know Steve's dating history; tiny, petite and pretty girls... Not you. Not fat and curvy and lumpy. Steve's eyes bore into yours and he can see your worries, sitting so openly and plainly in front of him.
"Baby," he murmurs, hand trailing fire over your cheek as he caresses it, "I think you're perfect." You look in his eyes and you know that there's a decade of trust there, a decade of friendship and loyalty, a decade of love, "You don't have to hide from me." You're still not quite there so Steve continues, "Your body, your smile, your laugh; you are perfect to me, (y/n). Beautiful. Your weight and size doesn't make you any less so... I want you, (y/n). Why do you think I only gave you my clothes to wear? I only want you, no one else." You hadn't thought about why you were the only one wearing Steve's clothes. It hadn't really clicked to be honest. He'd sent Robin and Nancy to his mom's closet, Eddie chose to be half naked, and you were the only one wearing Steve's clothes. It was such an honest, sweet, possessive action that it made the heat burn between your legs.
He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the side of your jaw, then another and another before he pulls back, "You want me to stop?"
You shake your head.
"Speak up, babygirl."
"Don't stop," you whisper, "I want you... Fuck, Steve, I need you." Hearing you say it makes his cock twitch in his shorts. It doesn't take much until he's rock hard, pressing against your thigh as he kisses you again, hot and heavy.
His hands resume sliding under your shirt, over the lumps and bumps and curves of your stomach and sides until they find your bare breast, heading straight for your hard nipple. His thumb grazes over it, extracting a soft moan from your parted lips. Steve moans into your neck at the sound of you, "God," he groans, "you even sound so fucking pretty."
Your whole body feels hot, feels like you're burning a fever but in the best way possible, "Take it off," you get a moment of bravery as you push him back and pull off of the jersey, throwing it across the room where it bundles in a pile at the wardrobe. You hoist your lower half up and rather ungracefully tear off your shorts and throw them over to where the jersey resides on the floor. Thankfully Steve was to preoccupied with taking his shirt off to see.
It was when he looked back down at you, ready to move in to kiss your breast, that he stopped.
"Holy fuck, baby."
He looks at you like you're the only thing of importance in the world. The way he stares at you, drinking in your body, your curves, your stretchmarks, it makes you shift and wriggle awkwardly. The way that he looks at you, you've never had anyone look at you like that before. His gaze is so awe-filled and you never want him to stop. He follows every line, every bump, every freckle, every blemish on your body until it leads back to your face and your eyes, "So goddamn pretty."
He bends his head, taking your nipple in his mouth tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, as his fingers press into your hips. The moans that he was pulling from you were like music to his ears, every moan and mewl making his cock twitch with anticipation. Every time you moan, he hums against your nipple. God he doesn't think he'll ever get tired of hearing you or making you feel good. Your back arches and his hand slips over your stomach, groping the curve of it. You shiver and squirm but not because you're uncomfortable. His touch sends tingles down your spine and all across your soft, sensitive skin.
"Steve," you whisper out, back arching as his fingers push apart your thick thighs, "I- I- need you."
Steve growls against your skin, "Never thought I'd hear you say that, baby," he says against your skin before taking your nipple back in his mouth, tongue swirling and circling around it as his fingers trail down your thick thighs to your aching hot sex.
You've never had anyone touch you like this, your hand brushes against his and he stills, raising his head to look at you, "I've never... you know..." You're a virgin. He already knows it, just like you know that he's not and he's not been for a long time.
Steve nods, "I'll be gentle, babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth, "if it hurts or you want me to stop-"
"I'll tell you."
Steve grins, that half grin you love so much, before he attacks your neck again as his fingers continue their agonisingly slow dance down your thighs, "God," he moans into your neck as he hears the way your breath hitches in your throat, "you sound too fucking pretty. I want to hear you moan for me..." His fingers graze over your slick cunt and my god, you're soaked, "God, I want to do this right; I want to take my time with you but- I don't know how much longer I can go." His fingers part you and circle your sex until they brush over your clit.
Your eyes roll backwards as your back arches to a level you never knew possible and Steve grins at your reaction. He presses harder on your clit, pressing and circling lazy circles. Your body twists and convulses, overwhelmed by the new sensations that he's causing, your words are a jumble of moans and curse words crumbling beneath him and he's never witnessed anything so beautiful.
"J-Jesus, Steve-"
His hips involuntarily buck forwards, colliding with your thigh and his head falls as he groans, "Baby, you can't say my name like that," he hisses, "you'll make me- Jesus- I've never had that before- never had this. I'm so- so desperate for you and just hearing you, just seeing you like this is enough to make me- fuck." You love having that effect on him but he doesn't let you enjoy it for too long before a finger is pushing at your entrance. He searches your eyes and you nod as he coats it in your slick heat before slowly, his finger is being pushed inside of you.
You kiss him. Lips open and tongues swirling as he pushes inside of you, you moan against his mouth and he seems to understand what you want. He shifts and slowly pushes another finger into you and it isn't long until your hands are tugging at the sheets, his hair, nails digging into strong shoulders as you come undone beneath him. Your mind is a jumble of everything Steve. All those moments with Steve. The innocent laughter of kids, the secrets of teenagers, the awkwardness of young adults. The inside jokes, the teasing jibes, the playful roll of the eyes, the secret glances when you think he isn't look, his lovesick whenever you laugh.
Steve feels like he could finish right here, right now. Not even inside you and barely started. This moment had been in the works for years and now it was here, years of tension built up into a few lustful, passionate moments. He slips his fingers from you and immediately takes them in his mouth, tasting your natural tang on his tongue. He moans against them as he licks your wetness from them, "Fucking delicious, babygirl." He tugs his shorts down and looks down at you, "Shit, condom-"
"I'm on the pill, Steve," you pant, "we don't need it."
"Are you sure? We can stop-"
"Steve," you cut him off, leaning up on your elbows to give him a quick peck, "I'm sure."
He lines himself up and readies you for him to push into you. You gasp at his size and he gives you a few seconds to adjust before he checks if you're alright and want to continue. It's not sore, it's an unfamiliar sensation but it feels good. You nod to let Steve know you're ready to continue. His finger trails lazily down your thigh, avoiding your wounds, as he looks at you with teasing eyes.
"Words, please."
"More- God, more."
He complies, his pace slow and steady. It takes everything in his to not implode then and there in your slick warmth. It's all a bit of a blur, it feels like you're high or drunk, fuzzy around the edges and tingly. Steve's groaning into your neck, sounds that drive you crazy because my god how does he sound so fucking pretty too? Your legs are tight around him as he kisses you hard, pace quickening with every thrust. It doesn't feel like anything you'd experienced before. It's deep and makes your body squirm and shake, it makes noises you didn't know you could make escape from your throat; it makes you go wild.
"You feel so-" he groans, "so fucking good, babygirl."
The way he speaks to you, voice dark and dripping with lust, could easily tip you over the edge once more but you hang on, wanting to stretch it out just a little longer. Your eyes meet Steve's. You'd always wondered that if you and Steve did ever get together, would it be awkward? Would it be uncomfortable at first? You had your answer. It wasn't awkward, it wasn't uncomfortable. It felt like how it should; it felt right. Like two pieces of a puzzle slotting together perfectly.
"Cum for me," Steve pants, peppering kisses all over your face, your neck, your shoulder. Your body involuntarily convulses, gasping at his words, "Cum for me, babygirl."
You couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. One second you're staring into Steve's eyes, the next you're tumbling into the blissful vortex of an orgasm, writhing and wriggling beneath him. The sensations overwhelm you; so much pleasure, so much build up and now you're unravelling at the seams for him; for Steve. Your eyes squeeze shut as your hands go between pulling at his hair to gripping his flesh with your nails, probably adding new cuts to his already bruised and battered body. The moans that come from you, jesus, he barely contains himself. The knowledge that he's the one making you feel this good, he's the one inside you, the one who's making you moan like that... he could explode inside you right now.
"Fucking hell, babygirl," he groans into your neck, "too fucking good, too fucking tight and pretty."
His thrusts slow as you come down from your high, allowing you some time to calm your racing heart and tingly limbs. Your breathing is erratic and you can't seem to form a single word or even a single thought but only Steve. Just Steve. Always Steve.
"I can't hold it, baby," he whispers, "you're too much; perfect but so- so fucking good." He means that you're too much in the highest of compliments. He could've came with just the sight of your naked body, hell just kissing you could've made him explode, the sound of you could've made it happen so the fact he's here, listening to you, touching you, kissing you, inside of you... it's so much; too much but he never wants it to stop. He wants it forever - wants you forever.
Slowly regaining some strength back, your hips rock into his. You're unsure of how to exactly do it but you know you're doing something right when he's cursing and gasping into your ear. The more he reacts, the more confidence you gain.
"Cum for me," you whisper in his ear just as he had done to you.
His moans make you shudder with excitement and it's not long before he's cursing and groaning loudly into your neck and the pillow you lay on, fist clenched around your hand. His thrusts grow quick and sloppy and you continue to talk him through it until he stills and shudders.
Pants fill the humid air as the two of you recover and fall down from your highs. It's a moment later when Steve slowly slides out of your warmth and slides off of you, falling onto the bed next to you. He doesn't give you any time to miss his touch because as soon as he's off of you, he's pulling you in at the waist and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.
You don't know what it is, the rushing tsunami of emotions, the reality hitting you or just the whole day's overwhelming nature but you feel vulnerable in those few moments afterwards and instinctively, your hands scrabble for the sheet, pulling it half over yourself.
"Hey," Steve murmurs, one eye open, "you never have to hide from me again."
You curl into him, "I know... It's just... weird getting used to it." It doesn't feel awkward or uncomfortable or even weird. The only weird thing about it is how normal it feels. You settle into Steve's arms as you feel a question bubbling up inside of you. "How... How was it?" It's a question that you're unsure you want the answer to because what if he hated it? What if it was just okay? It's too late now anyway, the deed has been done and the question has been asked.
Steve pulls a long breath out, "I seriously mean this, babygirl... the best, most intense, most mindblowingly awesome sex I've ever had in my life. No joke. Seriously like-"
You find yourself laughing, cheeks burning and heart racing at the compliments he continued to pour out, "Okay, okay, stop, I get it! I'm the best sex you've ever had in your life and you'll never find anyone like me ever again-"
"I don't want anyone ever again." His mood turns serious, a snap of the fingers and all laughter is gone, "I only want you, (y/n)... This isn't a one-time thing for me." You look up at him and you see that expression back once again, sad and scared, "I almost lost you, (y/n). I'm never letting you go again."
Your heart skips a beat, "So what does that mean for us?"
"it means that I-" the words are right there, locked behind teeth but he doesn't feel brave anymore, "I can't lose you."
"I can't lose you either." It's as good as an admission goes. You know how he feels just like he knows how you feel for him but the two of you have been too brave for today and neither has any intrepidness left in you so you leave it at that. You'll tell him the true nature of your feelings at some point but not right now, not yet. So for now, it's enough and it isn't long before the darkness wraps its arms around you and pulls you to sleep.
Steve settles with you wrapped up around him. He's warm, almost too warm, but he's not letting go of you. He can't. With a deep breath, he does his best to block today's events in the Upside Down out of his mind and focuses on the sound of your breathing to help lull him to sleep.
The lot of you don't get up until well into the afternoon, bodies and minds equally as exhausted. Your body is sorer in the morning, achier and just plain tired, Steve thinks it's his fault and he keeps apologising profusely but kisses work wonders to soothe his worries.
"I'm just bruised and battered. Not from you, Steve. You can't ever hurt me."
When you and Steve finally emerge from downstairs, Nancy's on the phone to Jonathan, Robin's watching TV and Eddie's surprisingly making breakfast. He's quiet and his smile doesn't quite hit his eyes but he tries his best to lift spirits. When the two of you pass Robin, she gives you a warm smile - a knowing smile but not a teasing one. After the events of yesterday, there's no teasing, no jokes; it's a 'life is fucking short so get with the one you love immediately'.
Once more, you crowd around the breakfast table, a little livelier than last night but the bruises, cuts and dark circles under everyone's eyes tells a different story. Everyone's eyes have a darkness to them; a hollow emptiness after the trauma of last night. Eddie fills in the conversation where he can but even he isn't feeling up to it so the sound of silence is something that you've grown to be used to. Steve's hand doesn't leave your hand all morning, he still doesn't want to be away from you.
After breakfast, the five of you glance around at each other and there's a question that you all think but don't say. Steve finds himself answering, "You can all stay as long as you need. My parents won't be home for a week and-"
There's a group sigh of relief.
"Maybe just one more night," Nancy says, "until we can get a proper good night's sleep." She's always been so strong, so fearless but the fact that there's a slight tremor of fear in her voice is oddly comforting to you.
"Thank god because I wasn't going anywhere." Robin says as she finishes the last of her apple juice.
"Me either," Eddie says, "maybe we could extend the invite to Henderson and the rest of the little buddies."
As the rest of the group break off, with Eddie going to call Dustin and Nancy and Robin cleaning up, you and Steve move outside to sit by the pool. Steve's arm is tight around your shoulders, pulling you into his embrace, "I love you." He's not feeling very brave today but he says it anyway. Life's too short, he learned that last night. So even despite his worries and fears, he had to tell you. Why not?
You press a kiss to his neck, smiling. See? Like two puzzle pieces slotting together. His confession makes you feel brave and makes you feel like you could tell him. Last night was a night of firsts; first time into the Upside Down, first time getting wounded, first time having sex so what's wrong with another first? First time telling someone that you love them; first time telling Steve. The boy who you thought was so far out of your league. Years ago you'd accepted your fate of just being friends but now? Now you were here, in his arms, so why the fuck would you let your fears stop you from taking the leap of faith?
"I love you, too." He presses a kiss to your forehead, smiling.
The two of you stay there, curled up together and smiling, until Dustin and crew get there and until Dustin yells at the top of his lungs, "I fucking knew it! Fifty bucks Harrington!"
#one shot#os#prompt#steve harrington x plus size reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x reader#plus size#plus size reader#reader insert#steve harrington x you#stranger things imagine#stranger things#stranger things fic#fanfic#fic#fic rec#st
405 notes
·
View notes
Text
Imagine Shanks saving you from hypothermia
You and Shanks: *get separated from the rest of the crew during a snow storm*
Shanks: *shielding his eyes from the snow and tries to yell over the howling wind* This storm is getting worse, get over here, we need to stick together. I don't want you getting lost!
You: *hears a crack under your feet* what was that!
Shanks: Fuck, we're wandered onto ice! Move very slowly, and grab my hand!
You: *falls through the ice when you reach for his outstretched hand*
Shanks: No! *Dives into the water after you, and pulls you from the icy depths and looks around* damn it, we need to find shelter!
You: Look over there, there's a cabin!
Shanks: Good eyes kid, let's get a moving. *Activates his armament haki, and wades through the snow and carries your frozen form in his arms*
When he gets you through the door
Shanks: *looks down and notices that your lips, nose, and fingertips are starting to get discolored from the cold, and your eyes are unfocused* oi oi, stay with me kid!
You: it's hot *starts to pull off your coat*
Shanks: *jumps into action and throws you onto the couch, and races to get a fire lit, breaking furniture to use as kindling*
You: *has already pulled off almost every article of wet clothing*
Shanks: *pulls his own clothing off and piles the cushions from the couch in front of the fire place* come ere you
You: *slaps his hands away* no it's too hot to cuddle.
Shanks: you little brat, fine, you leave me no other choice. *Fishes through a linen closet and pulls out a bunch of blankets. Most of which he uses to make a little nest, and one he wraps you up in like a burrito, and drags you to to the spot he prepared in front of the fire and gets on top of you. So you are trapped between him and a bunch of pillows.*
You: *struggles against him* Let me go, you big idiot.
Shanks: *gently bites your palm as you press your hand against his face*
You: *yanks your hand away and whines* get off of me you big jerk.
Shanks: I need you to trust me, when I say this really is in your best interest.
You: but
Shanks: Please
You: *sulks* fine
Shanks: atta girl *pulls off your underwear set and throws them over his shoulder as he gets comfortable on top of your shivering form.*
A few hours later
You: *wakes up feeling the drastic and uncomfortable difference between your cold body, and your sweltering surroundings, and opens your eyes in an unfamiliar place* hmm what happened?
Shanks: *lifts his head off your chest and looks down at you* finally awake, huh?
You: captain? Where are we?
Shanks: At an old hunting cabin, you fell through the ice and passed out.
You: what ice?
Shanks The ice of the frozen lake we accidentally stumbled on, but it's nothing to worry about. We'll reunite with the rest of the crew in a few days. They'll actually probably find us first... Anyway, how are you feeling? *Absentmindedly rubs his knuckles against your chest*
You: *gasps did you undress me?!
Shanks: *chuckles* didn't need to, practically couldn't get you to keep them on soon as I started building the fire. But they needed to come off anyway, they were wet, as were mine.
You: *realize what that means and is very self-conscious*
Shanks: *sees right through you.* You have nothing to worry about dear, you're beautiful, and I am not going to do anything without permission, at least nothing beyond keeping you warm.
You: ... You're heavy
Shanks: *snorts* Pouting was not the reaction I was expecting. *Hooks an arm under you and flips the two of you over, so you were resting on his chest.*
Two hours later
Shanks: I'm hungry.
You: I had some rations in pack, they should still be good if they didn't get wet.
Shanks: *slides out from under you and walks over to the couch where your clothes are, unabashed of his nudity.* Sweet, it's dry.
Benn: *bursts through the door* Boss!
Shanks: oh hey buddy
Benn: *sees his nude captain, and you, covering yourself by the fire,* I'm sorry, I'll come back later *slowly closes the door*
You: you're misreading the situation! Shanks go get him.
Shanks: *laughing too hard*
#one piece#one piece imagine#one piece x reader#akagami no shanks#shanks x reader#red haired shanks#red hair shanks#shanks#akagami no shanks x reader#red hair shanks x reader#red hair pirates#red haired pirates#benn beckman#from the depths of the dragon's hoard#tma original#12/10/22#no beta we die like men
560 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's all in my head, who do I trust? - I thought that you loved me, what is happening to us?
anyway, don't be a stranger.
2 new messages,
[user: momo]
'Hey'
...
'Happy birthday,
I did not forget.'
...
'meet me at han river in 10?'
...
'okay.'
-
The cold night air hits Jihyo's face, giving her goosebumps.
It's completly empty except for some couples sitting on the grass.
It makes her wish that she would be one of them.
She puts her hands inside of the pockets of her jacket.
She reaches a familiar bench.
It makes her think, about the old times.
About her first kiss.
About the confession of love in the rain - like a romantic movie that would have the watchers sobbing in their seats.
It got her sobbing too, in the depth of the night.
When she feels lonely, and vunerable.
A side of her that she doesn't want anyone to see.
She sits down on the bench, staring at the water.
She tries to lean back, tries to relax.
How is she able to relax if exactly she was the first person to congratulate her on her birthday?
"Jihyo" says Momo in a soft voice.
How is she supposed to relax when she says her name like that?
She looks up, from the water, and looks Momo in the eyes before she joins her on the bench.
They both stare at the water, without saying anything.
Even though people would describe Jihyo as someone that always has something to say, as someone that can't stay silent for too long, she has no idea what to say in this moment.
But that is nothing new to Jihyo, or to Momo, moments like these, in silence, are nothing new to them.
Jihyo decides to break the silence though.
"I only allow myself to miss you at night, I miss you in the secret -
because thats how it should be." she says, it comes out as a whisper.
It's an impulsive thought.
Momo looks at her, nods a little, then looks back at the river.
"Do you still think of me sometimes?" Jihyo asks.
She wishes she didn't ask that question after thinking about it long enough.
She wishes she didn't answer Momo's stupid texts.
She knows what her answer is going to be, something like a "no, I dont, not really."
But she is actually surprised when Momo answers.
"I do.
A lot actually"
This time Jihyo looks at Momo, without saying anything.
It feels like they are having an pointless conversation, with no goal or no end.
"Sometimes I want to text you -
but then I remember" Momo says.
Jihyo thinks she even heard a little sob when Momo said it.
But she doesn't want to think about it too much.
It's silent again, both watching people slowly leave the river.
The couples leave together, hand in hand.
Jihyo gets emotional seeing it.
"Atleast we are under the same sky" Jihyo says.
She feels the tears coming, but tries to hold them back.
"Maybe in another universe" Momo says, or rather, whispers.
And Jihyo is definetly sure that she heard a sob.
"I'm starting to forget you, I'm starting to forget us -
and it scares me." Jihyo says.
It's pointless.
This conversation.
They are both pathetically crying, like little, spoiled children that got their candy taken away.
They try to focus on the han river infront of them, they try to ignore the fact that this,
somehow is a goodbye.
"Can we have one more meaningless conversation?" Jihyo asks, even thought she already knows the answer to her stupid question.
"It's too late" Momo answers.
And she is right, she is so fucking right.
But Jihyo doesn't want it to be true.
Jihyo just wishes they could go back to talking once in a while because one of them is feeling alone in the middle of the night.
It doesn't need to be constant texting.
Just every now and then.
"I don't want to forget your voice"
She is trying to drag this out, to stop Momo from leaving.
"Or anything about you." Jihyo says, looking down onto her lap.
She watches her tears dropping onto her black jeans.
"I will look at the stars every night -
and I will think of you" Momo answers.
"My birthday wish for you is to let go" Momo says as she stands up.
Jihyo doesn't stop her when she starts walking.
She knows she can't stop her.
She knows she couldn't.
So instead of running after her, or leaving to walk to her apartment, she just watches Momo leave.
Her figure disappears in the darkness of the night.
"Anyway,
don't be a stranger." she whispers.
#wlw#twice imagines#twice smut#twice x reader#girl group smut#twice ff#momo x jihyo#mohyo#mohyo angst#jihyo smut#jihyo angst#jihyo fluff#momo fluff#momo smut#momo x reader#momo angst#twice angst#spotify#chaeyoung x reader#michaeng#feeling silly#i love angst#angst#angst with a sad ending
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Heart.
call summary⋆ ★ you're slowly going sour in your room
pairing *. * choi soobin x fem! reader
genre⋆ ★ heavy angst, fluff?
warnings *. * reader is not mentally okay, crude language, violence, bad grammar, pet names, suggestive?, death, derealization
call duration ⋆ ★ 2k
a/n*. * wrote this like in an hour so forgive me if it's horrible also the grammar is going to be sooo bad. English isn't my first language, soryyy, also I barely even proofread it so.....but anyway, enjoy and don't forget to reblog and comment or like!!!
taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet
You used to be carefree.
But now you just spent your days locked up in your room, rotting away inside as your head churns and liquidizes into soup, gurgling up through the pits of your nose. You don’t feel real, the bed doesn’t feel real, nor do the walls but you still hold on. You feel as though you’re amidst of an angry sea, one that has the knack of producing powerful waves that hold cruel currents, dragging you up, instilling the warm sense of hope that you craved relentlessly before it plunges you deeper into the murky cold water, exploding all of your senses.
The phone on your bed stand vibrates and you find yourself reaching for the device to shut it off. Yet the Caller ID stops you in your tracks as your eyes widen in surprise, practically choking on your spit. “Soobin?” You murmur, lifting the phone to your face, blearily and morbid lights blinding you for a moment, but you’re impatient, and you yearn to see his name once more on your screen, so choke down the pain in your dilated pupil, and you let your dangerously weak fingers dangle over the answer button.
Your guts churn inside, and you’re about to puke...the room is spinning, and you’re being suffocated but your eyes don’t tear away from the phone, staring at it with such great marveled eyes, lungs taking in less oxygen than it needed each time you let air through. “Soobin, why am I crying?” You ask, and the screen goes back to its wallpaper; a selfie of you two. Hands strung around his back, he smiled goofily into the camera, lips puckered into your cheeks as if you were on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, eyes lidded with sleep.
Smiling is hard, you conclude, and your ears are bleeding heavily. The phone rings again and you’re plagued by its annoying noise that can’t seem to shut up. You tried everything, silencing your phone, turning off your ringer, throwing the device against the floor, followed by Mr. Carrots but you quickly found yourself either picking up the phone with the utmost care, turning your phone right back, or even clicking the switch that allowed to music to emit.
You wonder how your phone hasn’t died from the number of scars you’ve given it just now. Soobin. Soobin. Soobin. Soobin. It was like you were going crazy! Why was he calling you? You shriek against your pillow, letting drool seep from your mouth while you bite your tongue hard enough to make it bleed, and you savor the sweet metallic taste that coats your mouth. Turning around in bed, you shut your eyes in hopes that everything disappears, that the phone disappears, that you disappear. Not that it already happened. You were nothing and will never be from the depth of your pounding heart; not without Choi Soobin.
“You’re so astoundingly pretty” Someone familiar mouths into your skin and you feel the butterflies arise in you again, so fierce but lovely as it flaps against the inner lining of your throat, almost rendering you speechless. Blonde hair as the snow, he was utterly beautiful for this world. He was show-stopping, heart-pounding, beautiful. His lips were always pillowy soft, tempting you to be a little selfish a steal more kisses than needed, not that he ever minded. “More you, love” You retort, spinning around in his arms to face him. His bright eyes never wavered from yours and every single fucking time, he always looked at you like you hung the stars, like you were his whole world. “Stop lying, pretty girl!”
He stumbles, pulling you closer and leaving heart-shaped kisses all over your body, not stopping until every inch of your skin is covered in his love. He held passion, a burning passion that burnt your skin until you were numb, yet it was addicting. It was poisonous. “My pretty girl” Soobin sighs against your lips, before tenderly taking your cheeks into his warm palms, tugging on your lips onto his, longing for the warmth that followed, swooning over the feeling of you while his fingers roam around your body. And that very night, he made him yours and yours as his.
You’re awakened but this time when you flutter your eyes open, it is late at night and sweat pours through your body. Groaning over, you quickly realize that the phone has plucked you out of your slumber and you start panicking once more. Your hands shiver towards the phone, as you pick it up again, tears welling up in your glossy eyes. Your resolve was starting to crack faster than you thought. Heart beating fast enough to break through its cage, your fingers drift onto the accept button and you gasp once you come back to sense, lip bitten by your teeth.
You hope–no prayed that no one answered. That this wasn’t real, but it was...it was as real as it gets. You think. You don’t know. Or maybe you do. You also think you’re clinically mad. But when you hear your name whisper through the speaker, your brain dies for a second and then comes back alive. Jolts of electricity travel through your veins and you feel like you are flying. “(Y/n) ...sweetheart?”
“Soobin?” You cry, and you swear you could hear his heartbreak on the other side. You imagine him in his bed, cuddling Mr. Carrot’s sibling; Mrs. Rabbit to death, having it choke on his iron grip. You want to scream so badly until your lungs give out and vocal cords snap, but you can’t. “Hey love, I just wanted to drop in and say that I’m sorry...and that I’m outside your door right now.” The phone drops to the floor in shock, the clatter echoing against the walls. “No, you’re not” You rasp, trying to make sense of the situation but your idea is deflected when you hear knocking on the door. Hesitantly pulling back the covers, you slide onto the floor, and you’re unable to even look up from it, rather your eyes follow the ridges that slither.
Unfortunately, the cold doorknob was in the clutch of your fingers, threatening to turn to let in the love of your life. You rethink your decision, but it seems that your hand had a mind of its own, and the knob twists without you knowing about it, letting a gust of wind in. “You’re unhappy.” A voice sweet as honey drips down your spine and you shiver uncomfortably against it, furrowing your eyebrows when you meet the dark eyes of your lover, knees shaking and ready to give out. “You’re also crying” He chuckles, leaning closer to your face to wipe away fallen tears, but in the name of irony, you notice the angelic drops coat his cheeks too.
He was too pretty to be crying. “You too” You quietly whisper, breath barely ghosting over the swirling breeze as you let him in, closing the door right behind him. “(Y/n)” he sniffles, pulling you closer and you reel into him for a second expecting the safe warmth he gave out, only to be stuck against a walking refrigerator, cold as ice cubes. “I can’t stand seeing you like this, weeping over me!” He sobs, falling into your arms, and you finally, let out too, dropping to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. “Then why did you leave me?!” You mumble, afraid to close your eyes, clawing him harder, as you break his skin, but he doesn’t even flinch, instead he sinks into it even more, relishing you. “I had no choice, I tried, I really did.”
“Well, you should’ve tried harder” You harshly spit, before you breakdown into his arms, liquidizing into him as a whole. “I’m so sorry baby” He babbles, “I miss you so much, I can’t even–I feel like I’m being dragged through the pits of hell–it’s so bad baby. Please make it stop! Please!” Pulling away from him for a second, you slam your lips against him, and it feels just right, just like old times. “Then stay with me,” You say, not leaving him a second to respond, because you’re scared of his response. You’re scared that he’s going to leave again and leave out to decay with skin peeling off your bone as you left to survive off your own emotions, regurgitating them when you digested them all, repeating it all over again. “I need to, I’m so sorry.” He presses his forehead against yours, smiling with your lips. “You will?”
He nods into your skin, “I’ll stay” He declares before he drags his palm up to your chest and lays it over your heart while his other hand pushes you down, where he lays down on you, head over your heartbeat. “I love you so much” You whimper, threading your fingers through his hair. “I love you so much fucking more, I can’t even express it” He sighs contentedly, closing his eyes, snuggling into you. “And I’ll always be there with you, even when you don’t even know” He mutters, but you’re long gone into another round of slumber, so he decides to wrap his arms tighter against your figure.
The light cast across your face startles you awake, but this time you’re happy and more in love than ever. The weight from before has lifted, but that was casual, Soobin had always had his eyes open before you and he was probably in the bathroom. Moaning in pain, you stretch to your feet, as you twirl joyfully, padded feet. “Soobin?!” You call out, expecting a response but when you don’t hear a thing, your grin widens. He was just hiding from you! So, you call out his name several times, chanting it like a prayer while you turn your whole apartment upside down. “Hey baby, where are you, this isn’t funny anymore” You wail, sulking like a toddler before you tumble into your own room, the last place you didn’t check. “Soobin seriously, you’re getting me worried!” Your hands softly brush against your bed, then slide against your table before they stop along a pair of documents. Your heart is suddenly stuck in your throat; you struggle to breathe when you bring the paper to eye level.
Choi Soobin was pronounced dead at 5:53 AM.
Your feet roll underneath you, so you hit your head against the sharp edge of the table, cutting the skin in a straight line. “What the–” You laugh, bringing your shaky hand to your cut, smearing it over your finger, trying to distract yourself from the pain that was starting to well inside your heart. The same pain that was poorly buried. And right when the first drops contact your skin, your heart jitters and it feels horribly painful, as though you were being burnt alive. You swiftly wipe away your tears, and you crane to gaze at the picture of your fiancé, happy smiles, nothing else. You despised yourself in that portrait. You looked so happy in a situation such as this, you were supposed to feel guilty, so why were you smiling in that picture?
Would you have stopped grinning so alienated if you knew what the future held for you?
“I hate seeing you cry so much; it feels like someone poured acid all over my face like I was being burnt with hot oil!” He says, into your ear, after one night where your hurtful words were thrown around.
Lips parting, you gasp into your fingers, clutching your left breast.
“Choi Soobin, you’re in my heart aren’t you” You pant, as you memorize how his hands felt against you, where he placed his fingers, and how he promised you that he would stay. Your other arm tucks itself into the hold of your left arm, holding it down where Soobin held you–in that dream.
That car crash was inevitable, and so was the death that came along with it, but with Choi Soobin placed in the safety of your beating organ, maybe everything will be fine!
Or maybe you should rip out your heart instead.
#txt x reader#soobin x reader#k-labels#soobin#soobin angst#soobin x reader angst#soobin fluff#soobin x reader fluff#soobin imagines#soobin scenarios#txt x reader angst#txt x reader fluff#soobin headcanons#soobin reactions#soobie boobie#soobin oneshot#txt oneshots#txt scenarios#txt headcanons
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
seven sentence sunday
thank you to @carlos-in-glasses, @sznofthesticks, @bonheur-cafe, @lightningboltreader, and @fallout-mars!
Carlos moves through the firehouse, hot on TK’s heels as he tries to get TK to slow down and “just fucking listen to me, okay?”
TK stops dead in his tracks, standing in the middle of the kitchen, “what? What could I possibly need to hear that will make any of this better? Years, Carlos, I spent years telling myself that when I eventually grew the balls to tell you I was in love with you, you’d tell me you loved me back. That you’d hold my face in your hands and kiss me, and make me feel like I mattered.” He snorts bitterly, “You made me feel like the exact opposite, Carlos. You made it so fucking clear that all I’m ever worth to you is a clandestine fuck when you’re in the depths of your own grief.”
Carlos steps forward, reaching for TK’s shoulder, his hand, his waist – something – when TK takes a step back, almost flinching. “Don’t touch me. You don’t get to do that.”
“Do what, TK?” Carlos’s voice sounds so small, so fractured that he can barely recognize his own voice.
“Come in here with your perfect emotional control and your perfect touch and use it to make me feel normal about this. I refuse to let you make me forget about it, not this time.” TK’s moving the entire time he’s talking, filling a tea mug with water and pulling a box of assorted teas down from the shelf.
Carlos falls back a little, catching himself on the edge of the massive island in the middle of the kitchen. “So, what? Is this it? We just never talk to each other again? Act like the last twenty years never happened?”
i'm late to the game but i'm going to tag @theghostofashton, @reyesstrand, @alrightbuckaroo, @liminalmemories21, and @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut
38 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
jellyfishinajamjar
Lovely Little Lake
murilohunter-blog
Murilo Caçador
romonac
A.Z.
skam-heritageposts
bringing back golden posts from glorious times
passionateminds
Passion is Purpose