#like the door to her basement cave opened | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clockwayswrites · 6 months

Text

Like Betta Fish Do Part 27

Wc:3213 Masterpost CW: Hospitalization, discussions of temporary character deaths

The hospital was pure chaos. Reporters were at the door, police were at the reporters to stay back, and the Waynes were pacing.

None of them had wanted to be left behind, not with this, so as soon as those who had been playing hero changed, they all headed for the hospital. Bruce had met them in a waiting room that had been cleared out for their use. There were benefits to having a wing named after one’s father.

“Clear,” Babs said as she and Tim finished typing on the tablets that they had brought from WE. “CTV cameras will just loop past this room.”

“There are no bugs. I’ve activated scramblers for parabolic mics or anything, not that they should be able to get to us in here anyways,” Tim said.

“What happened?” Steph asked, looking to Bruce.

Bruce looked to Dick. The rest of the eyes followed.

Dick sighed.

“It’s not my secret to tell.”

“I believe we are past that, Richard,” Damian snapped.

“Why don’t you start with a debrief of tonight,” Bruce coached.

“I was almost in suit when Babs came over the comms, telling us they took Danny. I started to look for suspicious vehicles given the time frame. I wasn’t successful at spotting anything before the…” Dick was really glad that Jason was back with Danny and not here listening to this. “…before the trap went off. I saw one of the buildings go dark.

"Cass joined me. We took out the henchmen at the van and leading into the building. Based on intel, I headed straight for the basement. The place was flooded an inch or two deep. They broke the sprinkler valve, I believe. Danny was tied to a metal chair bolted in the middle of the room. A wire had been tapped into the circuit breaker and was at Danny’s feet. His shoes were off.”

Dick swallowed hard and let his arms drop to his side. That urge to punch something was still there. He flexed his hands and then purposefully relaxed them.

“I was sure he was dead, but when I called out his name he moved. I made sure the circuit breaker was off, disconnected the wire, and went to him. He was…” Dick snorted, shaking his head. “He was making jokes. He was conscious but not fully lucid. Confusion, slurred words, panic. He didn’t want to be taken to the hospital. He thought they would cut him open if ‘they knew’. I was able to convince him to come by saying we’d get Leslie and that we’d protect him.”

Damian scoffed. “Of course we will.”

“Case?” Cass signed, face scrunched up in question.

“And asked Alfred to bring a case, one that Jason put in the Cave that Danny gave him,” Dick confirmed.

“What’s in it?” Tim asked.

Dick just shook his head.

“He’s a Meta, isn’t he?” Duke asked. The question was quiet, but it felt loud in the tense air of the waiting room. He wasn’t staring at the ground rather than any of them. “Something new. Maybe something dangerous or, worse, something useful. It’s why he’s afraid they’ll cut him open.”

Steph cussed and turned to punch the wall only to be stopped by Tim.

“Is he?” Tim asked.

It seemed like there was no getting out of this question. “’Close enough’ was the way it was put when I stumbled in on… the secret.”

“Are his powers electricity based?” Babs asked. “Is that how he survived?”

Dick laughed. The bitter sound made a few of the others flinch or grimace.

“No, opposite, really. He’s weak to it. I think they only got him because they used tasers and it really knocks him out.” I’m so sorry, Danny, Dick thought. “Danny… Danny’s been electrocuted before when he was a kid. It killed him, however briefly. Really… I’m not sure if it didn’t actually kill him again tonight.”

This time Tim didn’t stop Stephanie from punching the wall.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Dr. Thompkins said as she peeled off her gloves.

Danny just glared at the IV in his hand that had been carefully tapped down and put under a mesh glove.

“It’s like she doesn’t trust me,” Danny whispered loudly to Jason.

“She’s right not to,” Jason said.

Danny pouted at him.

“Fish,” Jason said with a wet chuckle. He ran his hand through Danny’s hair again, which seemed to soothe him. “You said loudly and repeatedly that you were going to go out the window as soon as she stopped watching you or if she took your blood or if she put the IV in.”

“She did take it,” Danny whined.

“I did,” Leslie said, “and I also promised you no one else would get a hold of your blood and I meant it. I need a baseline for you though. It’s my job now to make sure that you’re well.”

“And no clones,” Danny said.

“And no clones,” Leslie said.

She shot Jason a look who just shrugged helplessly. He didn’t know enough about what went down with that to answer her questions.

Leslie gave up with a sigh. “You really went and found someone who fit right in with the family craziness I see.”

“Nah, Doc, he goes above and beyond.”

“Well… that should make for an interesting file.”

Danny flinched at that, hard enough for Leslie to notice and stop what she was doing.

“Danny, listen to me,” Leslie said. She waited until Danny met her eyes to continue. “No one else will see the file. It’s encrypted by Oracle, Batman’s tech person, and that’s understating them. I need to keep a file so that I can treat you and keep you healthy, that’s all.”

“No experiments,” Danny croaked.

Jason wanted to punch someone again.

“No experiments,” Leslie promised.

Danny gave a little nod, turned away from her, and all but climbed into Jason’s lap.

“Make sure he doesn’t pull that IV out,” Leslie ordered and went back to making her notes.

Not long after Jason had gotten him and Danny settled into the hospital bed, there was a knock at the door. Jason’s hand went immediately to the scalpel that Leslie had generously pretended not to notice Jason palming earlier. It didn’t matter that it was a knock Jason recognized, he wasn’t taking any chances with Danny right then.

Jason only relaxed when Dick had stepped fully through the door alone.

“Hey Danny, how are you doing?”

“Leslie took my blood.”

“Yeah, she does that,” Dick said. He was smiling, words cheerful, but Jason could see the cracks in his brother’s facade. “Alfred is going to be here in just a moment with the case. Can I send him in when he arrives? Or I can bring it myself? Or any of us. We’re all out there.”

Danny turned his head enough to be able to peer at Dick with one eye. “You’re worried.”

“Yeah, little fish, we’re all pretty worried. We care about you,” Dick said gently.

Jason resisted the urge to kiss Danny’s pout away as he shifted his gaze from Dick to Leslie.

“Can they come in?” Danny asked.

Leslie pursed her lips. “Only for a half hour. After that, it’s only Jason and one other allowed at a time and that’s only because I want Jason to try to get some rest too. Whoever else is in here is on a minimum two hour shift so not to wake you up every five minutes.”

“Yes ma’am,” Dick chirped.

“And tell them to keep it calm,” Leslie called after Dick as he slipped back out the door. She sighed and shook her head before focusing back on Danny. “Now, there will be nurses who come in.”

“Noooo,” Danny whined.

“Yes,” Leslie said. “They’ll just be taking your blood pressure, which they’ll know to expect to be low, and changing out your saline and pain medication. I’ll be back in the morning myself to check on your burns. Everyone who steps foot in this room will be approved by Bruce and I. Someone from the family will be with you the whole time, you’ll be safe in every way.”

Danny’s pout deepened before he sighed heavily and seemed to deflate. “Fine.”

“Thank you, Danny. Now please try to rest after the group leaves, both of you.”

“Sure, Doc,” Jason answered and sent her a smile. He’d have to do something to help her clinic out soon, she really went above and beyond for them tonight. He managed to get Danny turned around so that his boyfriend wasn’t buried face first into his pecs before his family invaded.

It seemed like everyone was really trying to listen to Leslie and they all filed in orderly and tucked themselves onto the couch and chairs and each other. Bruce and Alfred stayed standing.

“Hi guys,” Danny said with a wobbly smile.

Some of the family flinched at how ruined Danny’s voice sounded. The flinches weren’t obvious to be noticed by anyone by a Bat, except maybe for Duke’s, but they still happened and Jason noticed. They all looked wrecked, really, in various ways. One would almost think they had been the ones kidnapped and murdered tonight.

It was Jason’s turn to flinch at his own thoughts. Greedily, he soothed himself by pressing a kiss to Danny’s temple.

“Hi Danny,” Duke said back. “How are you?”

“You know, feeling a little extra crispy,” he joked.

The room seemed to lose all the air for a moment before Tim groaned. “God, there are two of them now. No wonder you’re dating Jason, you have the same morbid sense of humor.”

The tension in the room broke and Barbie even laughed. (They all ignored how the laugh was a little too tinged with hysteria to be truly happy.)

Alfred cleared his throat and stepped forward. “The case, Master Jason.”

“Ooh, is that…” Danny asked, zeroing in on the case.

“Yep,” Jason confirmed, popping the ‘p’.

Danny held out his arms, making grabby hands at the case. Alfred raised a brow, looking to Jason for permission, before he moved forward and handed over the case. Jason rested his hand on the lid before Danny could open it.

“So,” Jason started. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “no one freak out, okay? What’s in the case isn’t what it looks like. And… and we’ll explain?”

He wasn’t sure if they would.

He wasn’t sure if they could afford not to.

“We’ll explain,” Danny confirmed.

“Okay, Jay-lad,” Bruce agreed, though Jason could tell he didn’t know what he was agreeing to, other than trusting his son.

Jason took a breath and removed his hand. Danny flipped the lid open. It was innocuous at first, a simple black padded case. Then Danny plucked out one of the glowing, Lazarus green ectoshots and the stances of several Bats shifted.

“That is—” Damian started.

“Nope,” Jason interrupted.

“Jay��” Bruce rumbled.

“I’m sure,” Jason said. He glanced at Cass. “Really.”

“What are you going to do with it?” Tim asked, sounding a little strangled.

“Drink it,” Danny answered.

“Drink it?!”

Danny’s nose wrinkled. “Does everyone in this room have issues with that— what did you call it— Pit water?”

“Pit water or Lazarus water,” Jason said. He calmly ran his fingers through Danny’s hair as he made sure to not have a reaction to the ectoshots. Danny needed to drink them, he couldn’t have any of it spilled from misplaced panic. “And a lot of us, yeah. It’s… been a thing. My situation didn’t help any.”

Tim frowned at the vial, clearly itching to get his hands on it. “If that’s not Lazarus water, what is it?”

“Ectoplasm,” Danny sing songed and then just downed the vial to the wince of the room. A shudder ran through his body before he slumped bonelessly against Jason.

Jason plucked the empty vial from Danny’s limp fingers, pressed a kiss to his temple, and put it back in the case. “From best we can think without getting our hands on Lazarus water, they’re a bit related, but ectoplasm is a pure source where as whatever Lazarus water is, it’s fucked up. Beyond that, I think…”

Jason sighed and buried his face in the top of Danny’s head. He didn’t know how to explain the next part to his family. He didn’t know how to tell them he was still, at least a little, dead. He didn’t want to hurt them like that.

“Ectoplasm isn’t a miracle cure, not like it sounds they use Lazarus water for,” Danny said around a jaw cracking yawn. “Doesn’t work for normal people.”

“Does it work for you because you’re a meta?” Duke asked. The sympathy in his voice was hard to hear.

Danny’s laugh wasn’t any easier to hear. “Nope! I mean, like, sure how you count Superman as a meta I’m a meta, I guess. More a different species.”

Steph made an incredulous noise. “You’re an alien?”

“I wish,” Danny snickered. “I’m dead.”

“That is not funny, Nightingale,” Damian snapped.

Jason peered up at his bristling little brother. Demon brat really was already attached to Danny. “He’s not trying to be funny, Dami. Danny is half dead or, rather, half ghost.”

“Okay, which of your parents fucked a ghost?”

“Miss Stephanie,” Alfred chastised.

“Sorry Alfie,” Stephanie mumbled under Danny’s snickering.

At least having almost died (again) tonight saved Danny from being admonished too.

“Ancient, no, my parents hate ghosts,” Danny said.

“But you’re half ghost,” Babs pointed out, gently.

“Yeah. And there’s a reason that I changed my last name and don’t talk to them anymore, not that they know,” Danny said. He stretched out his arms, arching like a cat. Clearly the ectoshot was starting to have an effect. “No, I’m half dead ‘cause I died and then didn’t.”

“You’ve died before, Danny?” Bruce asked, voice carefully gentle in that way he used only when talking to his kids or those who were basically family through his kids.

“Yeah,” Danny sighed. “It was, um, don’t like talking about it. It’s a ghost thing. But my parents built a portal to the ghost’s realm to try and study them. It didn’t work, not at first. I stepped in it, tripped, hit the on button and bam… ten thousand volts of electricity later and I’m dead.”

Tim and Cass both reached out to stop Steph from moving.

“Thing is, the portal turned on,” Danny continued. “So I also got pure ectoplasm shot right through me. It brought me back, kinda. I’m a halfa; half ghost and half human. Half dead and half alive.”

“You’ve died by electricity before,” Bruce said into the silence of the room.

“Probably died again to it tonight,” Danny said with a casualness that had Jason tightening his arms around Danny. Danny just giggled. “But like I told Dick, I’m immune now.”

“You know,” Barbie said. She narrowed her eyes as Danny shrugged before she glanced to Dick. “And you knew.”

Dick sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Little wing?”

“Go ahead, Dick. I’m pretty sure you’ve connected all the dots now,” Jason said. Maybe it would be easier, no, smoother if Dick explained it. He was better at hiding his anger.

Though by the way Dick had to shift on his feet, maybe not. “I… I think I have. Then you’re…?”

Jason nodded.

“Fuck!” Dick twisted and paced to the door and back again.

“Master Richard!”

“Don’t be so harsh, Alfie,” Jason said. He couldn’t make Dick be the one to tell them; that had been a selfish hope. “Dick just put two and two together that if the ectoshots only help Danny because he’s dead—”

“Part dead,” Danny chimed in brightly.

“—then that means I’m still part dead too.”

“Jay-lad?” Bruce prompted after a tense moment, voice rough.

Jason just smiled sadly. “The Pits healed me. It sorta… filled in the cracks, but it couldn’t fix that whatever brought me back didn’t bring all of me back… or couldn’t bring all of me back. I think that’s part of why the Pits had such a hold on me. Not that it’s an excuse, but just… whatever. Point is, I’m a halfa too, even if I’m still healing enough to be a proper one.”

The family practically curled around each other in grief. Dick tucked Damian against his side. Tim slumped into Steph and Cass. Steph reached out to squeeze Bab’s hand. Bruce took an aborted step towards them. Even Alfred raised a hand to his mouth.

“I’m alright,” Jason assured them.

“You’re still dead!” Dick snapped.

“I’m half alive, that’s more than I was before,” Jason pointed out.

Dick hunched into himself at that, prompting Damian to give Dick an awkward looking hug.

“What all does that mean, being a halfa?” Bruce asked. He held up a hand as he paused and took a measured breath. “I don’t mean that as an interrogation. Right now, what’s important for us to know to make sure you’re both healthy? Or is there anything that we should avoid doing?”

Jason snorted. He appreciated the clarification, the attempt at being gentle, he did, but, “I know you want to know more than that.”

Bruce smiled, though the expression was more mocking himself than anything. “Of course I do. You know me, chum, I don’t do good with only pieces of information, but right now I’m not the important one. I can deal with some… unease so that we can focus on you and Danny.”

“Danny should drink at least another ectoshot in a bit. They help us heal as halfas. Dick knows because there was an incident where I got stabbed. Danny sensed my distress and showed up to give me an ectoshot. I had called Dick already. Which means Danny also knows about everything.”

“Danny sensed your distress?” Tim asked.

“It’s a ghost thing,” Jason said with a shrug, unsure how to really explain it. “It comes from ghosts having cores which are sort of their central organ.”

“You core?” Cass asked, clearly struggling to verbalize right then with how her nose wrinkled.

“I do. Or, I’m getting more of one. Because the Pits put me back together badly I was really messed up.”

“It’s coming in well,” Danny said sleepily. He yawned wildly (a little too widely) and turned to bury his face into Jason’s chest. “Pretty lava core too. It’s good to have close for healing. It’s warm and lovely.”

Jason snorted and kissed the top of Danny’s head. “Go to sleep if you can. You’ll need lots of rest.”

Danny huffed a mumbled protest, but Jason could tell that Danny was fading fast.

“We’ll talk more later, Jay-lad,” Bruce said as he finally let himself come close to help Danny and Jason better settle into the hospital bed to sleep.

“Yeah,” Jason said as he fought his own yawn as the head of the bed lowered. “Have to have Danny show you his ghost form, it’s really something.”

Tim echoed ‘ghost form’ quietly in the background as Alfred murmured something to the group.

“Do you want myself or Dick here for the first shift?” Bruce asked.

“Stay?” Jason asked. His eyes dropped closed as his dad ran a hand through his hair.

“Always.”

---

AN: a very tired taaaaaada. They got the bulk of the explanation! Though still things to learn and talk about. I was going to put in more bits, but this felt full the way it was! Next chapter more answers, more questions, and someone shows up.

I no longer tag people but you can subscribe on the masterpost.

#dp x dc #dead on main #like betta fish do

576 notes · View notes

444rockstargf · 2 months

Note

so happy your requests are open tbfh, could you write something (for euro, he is so MEEEEOOWWW) about reader being a sibling of one of the other band members and they hate each other and then SEX!!

thats as specific as i can get i fear 😭 i love your work so much thanks for your time girl!!

thank you for the request babe! (this is absolutely scrumptious.)

"big, bad, naughty rock star." | euronymous

big bad wolf. - lana del rey

✮⋆˙ [tags] @faesucksass @lustkillers @mayathepsychic1999 @josibunn @si1nful-symph0ny @vanlisbon @livingdead-reilly @oliviah-25 @lankysimp@auggiethecreator @livingdead-materialgirl @monkeyfart @imoonkiss @nom-nommmm1 @xxbl00d-cl0txx @k1ll3rh0rr0r @wildathevrt

female!reader x r!euronymous

word count: 1.6k

contents: brother's best friend type relationship, tension, drinking, unprotected p in v, implications of masturbation, creampie, overstimulation, not proofread!!!

heavy metal music tore through the thin walls of your house, the noise from the basement sounding as deafening as ever from your bedroom. you were lying on your bed, eyes closed as vibrations filled your body.

you groaned, rolling off your bed as the pounding sensation in your head grew more intolerable by each passing second. truth be told, you had no problem with death metal. your brother was into it, so that automatically meant that it would rub off on you. but what you didn’t like was attention-hungry guitarists who didn’t know when to give the ear-piercing riffs a break.

you stormed down two flights of stairs, making your way to the source of the racket. you swung open the door, causing the music to come to an immiediate halt and all eyes to turn to you. euronymous’, or rather oystein’s gaze caught your eye first. it was icy and cold and bitter like the depths of the arctic.

you placed your hands on your hips, your friendly eyes turning to slits as you met his glare. “can you animals keep it down in here? i’d hate to fall asleep to your music and suddenly wake up in the pits of hell.” jan axel, your brother, smirked at your comment with a little chuckle. “no problem. we’d hate to interrupt your beauty sleep.” you swatted him off, turning and walking away from the atmosphere.

you felt a pair of predatory eyes on you the entire time, probably studying you. you had shown up in a lacy camisole top, tiny black shorts and white thigh-high socks with little pink bows on them, an outfit that would now be engraved in euronymous’ mind for the rest of time. he watched you walk up the stairs as his band continued playing, watching your ass jiggle with each step you took.

then he turned to your brother.

“why the fuck do you let her walk all over you like that? she bitches and whines like a goddamn 12 year old.” jan scoffs. “c’mon man, that’s my little sister. and you know she’s 18. you were even at that big birthday party of her’s, remember?”

oh yes, he remembered. the night you got blackout drunk and tried to lead him on, leading to a very sloppy hookup that also happened to be the night he lost his virginity, to you. but you didn’t remember any of this, and that was probably for the best. so all you viewed him as was that weird guy that hung out with your brother.

euronymous rubbed a hand over his face. “she’s a fuckin’ brat, dude. and she dresses like a damn hooker. you can’t just let her do whatever the hell she wants around here. one way or another, it’ll ruin our band.” jan brushed him off. “whatever, man. she’s her own person. she’s a woman, so it’d be pretty fucked up for me to be bossing her around.” he flipped over his sheet music. “from the top.”

euronymous placed his guitar on it’s stand. “i’m grabbing a beer.” he muttered, making his way to the stairs and bolting up them. that’s when he saw you in the kitchen, squirting whipped cream into your mouth from the can. he felt heat pooling in his core from the sight. “oh, fuck me…” he muttered under his breath, making you turn your head to him.

“the grumpy old troll crawled out of his cave, hm?” you taunted. he rolled his eyes, spitting back a snarky response. “why don’t you crawl back into whatever fairytale you lept out from.” you snarled, the expression on your face making euronymous’ knees weak. you opened the fridge, putting the whipped cream back and grabbing a bottle of beer. the last one.

you started heading back to your room until you felt a calloused hand grip your wrist, pulling you back. “i was gonna take that.” his eyes bored into your soul, but you put on a fake-pout. “well that’s too bad.” you licked around the tip of the bottle, claiming your territory in attempt to disgust him enough to leave you alone. but his pupils dilated when he saw your pink tongue smear saliva across the bottle, awakening something primal in him.

you hopped up the stairs, giving him a view of your legs in such innocent yet provocative clothing. without thining, he followed you up, walking into your room behind you and pinning you to the door by your chest. your eyes widened as the door shut behind you, your heart hammering inside of your chest.

“what the hell are you doing, oystein? jan would murder you if he saw you doing this.” euronymous didn’t have anything to say to that, so his mouth gaped open slightly as he studied your features. you looked like if your brother was crossed with a cute little child’s doll. your eyes shimmered with intense emotion, and he imagined what they’d look like as they rolled to the back of his head while he fucked you.

he watched the top of your breasts rise and fall with each heavy breath you took, feeling a very familiar sensation in his jeans. one that he always felt whenever he saw you. he shook himself back to reality, plucking the beer out of your hand. “a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be drinking this. besides, you’re a kid.” your cheeks puffed up with anger. “you’re like 6 months older than me, asshole.”

he shrugged, leaning against your wall and taking a large swig of beer, looking around your bedroom. as pink and girly as it was, it all became much more lewd the longer he looked. there were bras and panties slung across almost every surface, smutty books filling your bookshelves, and a pretty pink vibrator that failed to be hidden underneath your pillow.

euronymous smirked, walking toward your bed and picking it up, switching it on. “well what do we have here?” your breath left your lungs as he held it, quickly rushing up to him and snatching it. “dont touch that!” he laughed bitterly, looking you right in the eye. “so turns out princess bubblegum’s a fucking whore.” you felt your cheeks heating up as he continued to speak.

“did you get to cum, dolly? or was the sound of real music too much for your pretty little ears?” you opened your drawer, tossing the vibrator into it and slamming it shut. then you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist, picking you up and throwing you onto your bed.

everything was happening too fast for you, but the next thing you knew euronymous was on top of you, your faces less than an inch apart as his tone turned into one of lust and desire. “i asked you a question, angel. did that stupid toy make you cum?” you gulped, your core starting to drip from the words he spoke.

you shook your head, causing him to smile. he pushed your legs apart, letting himself in between them and pressing his burning erection onto your clothed pussy, making you gasp. he trailed his hand down your body, his fingers slithering under the waistband of your shorts and stopping at your panties, feeling the sopping wet mess underneath the thin, lacy fabric.

your limbs turned to jelly as a moan slipped from your lips. he began to rub slow circles onto your hard clit, feeling it’s throbbing response.he used his other hand to slip of your shorts, then your panties, taking off your clothes layer by layer until only your socks were left. but he left those on. he thought they were a nice touch.

one thing led to another, and he was pounding into you from behind, his fingers shoved down your throat as he stretched out your tiny little pussy with his monstrous cock.

your back arched as he pressed you into the mattress, feeding on your desperate moans and whimpers like a starved beast. “like that, doll? is that the spot?” he cooed, obviously mocking you. you were a sobbing mess, your mascara running down your face as you drooled around his large fingers.

he looked down at you from where he was, watching your ass bounce with each hard thrust. he watched the curve of your back as his dick made you lose all control of your senses. you would never admit it to him, but he made you feel much better than that stupid vibrator did.

“i-im cumming, oystein..!” you managed to cry out, his finger muffling your words. you had gushed and creamed and squirted around him so many times by now that you had lost count. but body was weak beyond its limits, but he refused to stop. he just kept on pushing, his deep, hoarse groans eoching through your bedroom walls.

he landed a harsh slap onto your bruised ass, making you yelp. his thrusts began to lose their composure as he spoke, his voice breaking. “c-can you cum f’me one more time, baby… can you do that for me..?” you nodded frantically, tears rolling down your face and staining your bedsheets.

his cock throbbed inside of your pulsating hole, creating a wet and sticky mess as cum poured down your thighs and stomach. and then he began to shout, his voice coming out as a booming roar. “goddamnit!” he forced himself all the way in, making your heart stop for a moment as he filled you up with his molten hot cum. he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, his groans turning into little whimpers before he pulled out, shooting a few last ropes onto your arched back.

you laid there, panting like a dog as the realization hit you. your brother’s best friend had just fucked you. the one that you had never gotten along with. the one who swore he’d kill himself if you ever got a man to touch you. the one who longed for the day that he’d finally get to claim a pure soul like yours as his own. and now, he’d finally done it. again.

author's note: i ran to write this as soon as I got the request. goodnight yall :))

#444rockstargf #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #lana del rey #euronymous #lords of chaos #smut #lana del rey unreleased #eurorory #euronymous rory culkin #euronymous smut

228 notes · View notes

thatrandomwriter · 11 months

Text

Be Right Back

Ghostface Stu Macher x Reader

Warnings: Threat of violence, underage drinking, kissing

Summary: Ghostface follows reader into the basement at Stu’s house party, but reader has an idea about who might be behind the mask

“I don’t know what you did, Sidney, but on behalf of the entire student body we all say thank you!” Stu had swooped in to walk with Sidney, Tatum and I, presenting us with flowers. He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes. He clutched his chest as if this was the most heartless action I could’ve taken. I laughed.

“Drop it, Stu,” Tatum said as Sidney looked down at the ground, but Stu was not put off.

He slid between me and Sidney, slinging an arm around each of our shoulders, “Ya know I say, impromptu party tonight, my house, celebrate this little siesta. What do you say?” I could smell his fresh cologne, feel his warmth next to me.

“Are you serious?” Sidney asked, unconvinced.

“Sounds like fun - might be good to take your mind off things?” I said.

“That’s exactly right,” Stu piggybacked off my reasoning, flashing me a grin. I felt my face heat up slightly, “If Tatum doesn’t invite the entire world, we’ll be fine. Intimate gathering, intimate friends,”

“What do you say, Sid? I mean, pathos could have it’s perks,” If Tatum was on board too, there was no way Sidney was saying no.

“You’ll be totally protected. Yo, I am so buff. I got you covered, girl,” Stu made a show of removing his arms from around us to flex them exaggeratedly.

“With Stu as your bodyguard, no-one is getting anywhere near you,” I said, and Sidney smiled.

“Come on, Sid. For me? It could be fun,” Tatum appealed.

“Okay, whatever,” Sidney caved in.

“Yeah? Cool, you guys bring food, alright?” Stu said, leaving to walk in another direction. I turned to wave goodbye, catching him doing a triumphant air guitar.

“Save that energy for the party,” I called back to him.

“I’ll be at the top of my game, don’t you worry,”

I was a few hours and a few drinks into the party. Stu had disappeared a little while ago, and embarrassingly, I was disappointed that he wasn’t around to hang out with anymore. Instead, I was sandwiched between Sidney and Tatum, sunk deep into the squashy sofa, someone’s legs across mine.

“I’m getting some more drinks - anyone want anything?” I asked, feeling more claustrophobic than thirsty. I was met with a general consensus that just about everybody needed another beer “I’ll grab whatever I can carry,”

Tatum removed her arm from my shoulders, and I struggled up from the sofa.

“Thank you!” Tatum grinned up at me.

“Be right back,”

I was still getting used to the size of Stu’s house, managing to open two wrong doors before I came across the basement - dark and steep stepped. I fumbled for the light switch, hand patting down the wall, until finally I felt it and flipped it on, lights flickering into being.

The fridge was impressively stocked - full of as much beer as could be crammed into it, bottles and cans stacked haphazardly, threatening to fall to the floor if I made one wrong move. I wiggled a few free, grabbing bottles by the necks in an attempt to fit more in my hands. It would be a miracle if I made it back to the party without dropping any of them, but one trip down into the spooky basement was enough for me, especially with a killer around; I would not be making a second trip if anyone ended up without a drink.

I reversed with the beers, shutting the fridge with my foot and nearly toppling over, stumbling backwards until I hit a wall. No, not a wall - a person, soft and warm.

“Sorry, guess I’m more tipsy than I thought,” I laughed, turning to see who I had fallen into. A white mask, mouth open in an exaggerated scream stared down at me. A ghostface mask. “Shit, you scared me,” Was this just a tone-deaf joke? Perhaps someone had meant to catch Sidney down here to really freak her out. Or maybe this was the real deal - I fought the urge to laugh. This could not be how I died, fetching beer at a trashy highschool party.

“I’m just gonna-“ I moved to walk around him and back up to the party, but he side-stepped, making me walk into him again. Something about him seemed familiar - his height, the way he stood, his smell … I realised then exactly who it was. I had smelled Stu’s cologne when he had put his arm around me earlier, and I could smell it again, now.

“Stu?” I let out my laugh, relieved. He had a tendency to take jokes too far, this was just an instance of his somewhat unsympathetic sense of humour.

Stu shook his head, mask turning from side to side.

“Come on, I know it’s you. Let’s go have a drink,”

Metal gleamed as Stu revealed a knife from inside one of his long sleeves.

“That’s not funny, Stu,” Was this part of his joke? Would he really take it this far, or was I somehow mistaken about the identity of whoever it was behind the mask?

The person tilted their head to one side, as if he were analysing what I was saying. For a moment, we were at a silent impasse. Then, Ghostface lunged for me with the knife. Beer slid from my arms, shattering on the basement floor, and I made no effort to hold onto it as I ducked. I shoved at the body in front of me to put some distance between us. I was trapped between him and the shut garage door - all I could do was try to evade his attacks. Part of me was still convinced that it was Stu, another knew that surely he was not capable of murder. He stabbed at me again, and this time I gripped onto his arm, but the knife was aimed for my chest. I was weaker than he was, and despite all of my efforts, the knife was still closing in on me. I knew in that moment that I was not going to win this fight, so instead, I turned my attention to the mask. I managed to push his arm to the side, stepping away from it so that he stumbled forward. Before he could recover, I grabbed onto the mask, yanking it away from his head.

“Stu?” The reveal floored me. I had been expecting this, I had known it was him, but still I was shocked. Stu regained his footing, taking advantage of my shock to shove me backwards and into a wall, a real one this time, knife at my throat. I was breathing heavily, from a combination of fighting him, fear, and, ridiculously, what felt like nervousness twitching in my chest at our proximity.

“How’d you know it was me, huh?” He pushed the knife further into my skin for a second, punctuating the question.

If it was anyone else, I probably would not have figured it out, “I just … recognised you,”

“You did? Well, I have to say, I’m very flattered - what are you, a stalker?” Stu was teasing me, laughing at me, with a knife to my neck. He stepped forward, even closer to me than before, almost touching me. I could still feel my chest rising and falling heavily.

“You’re flattered?” Part of me thought that maybe playing into this attraction could keep me alive, even just long enough for someone to notice that I had been gone too long from the party. Another part was shamefully intrigued as to where this was leading.

“Of course I am - don’t you think I’ve noticed you too?” he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Who would’ve thought a knife was the way to get your attention?”

When he pulled back, I couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, how close they were to mine. As soon as my eyes were back on his, I knew that he had noticed. My face grew hot, but something shifted in his expression, becoming less playful and more serious as he surged forwards to kiss me. I tilted my head up towards him, my eyes shutting as his lips moved against mine, fast and hungry and full of desperation. I was pressed between him and the wall, the coldness behind me a stark contrast to the warmth in front. One of his hands found my neck, replacing the knife, thumb grazing my throat in a gentle caress meant to remind me that I was still entirely at his mercy. The feeling made me groan slightly. His teeth nipped roughly at my lower lip, hard enough to sting. I parted my lips for him, and he delighted in sliding his tongue into my mouth, leaving me somehow even more breathless than before.

His hands were on my hips, “Jump up,” Stu broke away from me only for a second, as I jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist. He used the wall to hold me up, one hand snaking back up to my neck, the other resting on my hip, fingers grazing the skin just beneath my top. He used the hand on my neck to pull my head to the side, kissing down my jaw until he reached skin soft enough to leave a hickey. Stu bit at my neck, sucking soft skin between his teeth, making me wince slightly which only encouraged him. When he was finally satisfied, he looked up at me, grinning, “You’re my masterpiece,”

The doorknob jiggled, before a knock on the door made him turn away. “You alright in there? I came to see if you needed help carrying the drinks,” Sidney’s voice sounded down into to basement.

I looked to Stu. Now would be the time for me to scream for help, “All good, I think the door locks when you shut it too hard sometimes,” I said. She would never make it through the locked door in time to save me, I told myself. But Stu was kissing my neck, nuzzling into me, and I knew the real reason.

“If you say so,” Sidney said.

“Yep, I’ll be up in a minute,” I struggled to keep my voice steady, but my reply seemed to satisfy Sidney, as there was no other sound from upstairs.

“How do you know you’ll be back?” Stu asked, finally removing himself from my neck to look into my eyes.

“I don’t, but I thought you’d want me to get rid of her,”

A smile widened across his face at my compliance, and his thumb caressed my throat once again, “Aren’t you clever?”

“Will I be back?” I asked; he was carefully evading answering his own question.

“I haven’t quite decided yet,” his hand had strayed to the knife which had been resting on top of a chest freezer, “But I’m sure you can figure out a way to make keeping you alive worth my trouble,”

#imagine #oneshot #ghostface #ghostface x reader #scream 1996 #scream fanfic #stu macher x reader #stu macher #matthew lillard #sidney prescott #tatum riley #slasher x reader #reader insert

1K notes · View notes

spectr3inl0ve · 3 months

Note

please more age gap Bruce Wayne PLEASEOLEASEPLASEPLEASEPLEASE

YES OFC ML!!! HERES CRADLE ROBBER!BRUCE WAYNE TELLING READER HES BATMAN (expanding on this post)

you and alfred are the only people in the manor, it's almost midnight. you know this because alfred let you in, telling you everyone's absent after you ask where they are. making your way up to bruces room, you take note of the stillness, the absence of noise, chaos. you silently open the double doors into the masterbedroom, and sit on the edge of the bed.

bruces presence has becoming more and more scarce in the past two months, and in a couple weeks you would be celebrating six months together. he's been more fatigued as well, and there's been countless unexplainable injuries - and some of them weren't of the smaller kind either. it's gotten to the point where bruce would sometimes wince when you touch him, brushing it off with 'muscle pain' until you lift his shirt to reveal a swelling bruise or a cut or graze. "you know how clumsy I am, baby." he smiles, and he's right, you do know. he's not clumsy. he's hardly ever available at night, and the 'date night' plans turn into a brunch on Saturday instead.

all of this makes you start questioning and overthinking your entire relationship, was he seeing someone on the side? are you not good enough? did you do something wrong? no. you didnt. couldn't have. you're as good as it gets and you know it, he knows it. even the tabloids are noticing how unhappy you're looking, always slightly pouting, perhaps a bit more clingy; always tailing bruce like a lost puppy.

tears form, and you do nothing to stop them. it's been a while since you've had a good cry. and as Steph says, "even a girlboss needs to cry!". and you completely agree. you let out all of your bottled up emotions out, sniffles turning into heavy sobs, but quiet enough to keep alfred from worrying.

through your overthinking and sobbing, you don't hear bruces heavy footsteps, and you don't hear him when he opens the double doors to his room. you do however, hear him when he gently calls your name. blood rushing to you cheeks, you stop your sobbing, wiping your nose. but you don't face him. bruce moves toward you swiftly, sitting down next to you and scooping you up into his arms, placing you onto his lap so you face him. he sees you actively avoiding his eyes, so he places a gentle, but firm hand on you jaw and guides your face to look at him. "what's got you crying, huh, pretty?" the nerve of him..."you." you hiss, furrowing your eyebrows. his face grows solemn, the colour draining. you see this as a sign to rant to him about whay he's done. and you do. you go off on him, yelling, hitting his chest and ugly crying. he just listens, nodding every now and then in acknowledgement. his calmness irks you, "do you have anything to say for yourself, bruce?" you cry into his chest, soaking his black tshirt with tears and mascara. you resurface, resembling a panda with the way your mascara smudged around your eyes. bruce, reading the room, bites back his smile and instead let's out a long sigh.

with his arms around her still, he stands, keeping her steady. "gotta show you something. you might not like it though..." the vagueness of it worries you even more. he retracts his arms from you, taking your hand and leading you to his office. while you stare off into the distance, bruce does fiddles around (I forgot how he enters the batcave thru the office 😭) and then the bookshelf reveals a secret elevator. your jaw drops as he leads you into it, pressing the button to go down. a few moments later, the elevator stops and opens, revealing a high tech...basement? cave? he steps out, you do the same. you notice how cold it is, wrapping your arms around yourself, "...what is this...? I don't understand.". the tears start up again, and this time youre unsure why. bruce comfortingly rubs your back, shushing you gently. "I...I'm...batman." he says quietly.

it takes a moment for you to process what you heard. "so you're not cheating on me...?" you sniff, looking around you. bruce goes red, oh. that's what you thought? he shakes his head, "no, sweetheart. never." he guides you toward the batcomputer, letting you play around a bit as he watches. if bruce is batman...does that mean.. "so...damian is robin? and the others are...?" you look at him with a quizzical look, sniffling. he gives me a small smile, "yeah, baby." "that explains a lot." you hit his chest and chuckle.

hope this was alr, please send asks abt cradle robber!bruce wayne or dick or jason!!!

#°○☆spectr3inl0ve #cradle robber!bruce wayne #monty loves dc #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman x reader imagine #ignore these tags im just trying to get more reach #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #red hood headcanon

327 notes · View notes

myjealouseyes · 4 months

Text

Christmas Eve Wake Up Call.

HJP x wolfstar!daughter

A/N- if you saw me post this last week, no you did not!

No content warnings. Fluff, slight teasing and flirting, cuddling.

“…Harry. Harry, wake up. Wake up!”

He wakes with a start, his hand clutching his chest as he puts his glasses on. He looks over to see you, standing next to his now open window. This isn’t exactly new. Every Christmas Eve after you’ve just spent the day finishing up last-minute Christmas shopping and doing all your baking, you’ve usually overexcited yourself about the upcoming holiday.

That meant no matter how hard you tried or how tired you were you just couldn’t sleep. Your mind was in overdrive thinking about how people would like the presents you gifted, or if they’d like your baked goods (which they always did,) and you were slightly curious about all the gifts under the tree. You’d waited ages to see what was in each box and just thinking about how you only had to wait a few more hours sent you into a frenzy. So after an hour and a half of tossing and turning, you decided to sneak out of your bedroom and into Harry’s to make him suffer with you because what else are best friends for?

You close the window and skip over his bed, throwing yourself in the spot next to him. Harry takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes sluggishly before lying down next to you. You grin, turning his head toward yours. You caress his face gently, making a small flush form against his cheeks.

“It’s just after eleven y’know,” Harry mumbles while his eyes are fluttering shut. Your touch has calmed him down from his semi-panicked state. “You usually come a little closer to twelve.” You hum quietly and give his cheek a light pinch. “So I came early. You kicking me out?” His lips turn up into a teasing smirk as his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. Butterflies form in your stomach at the feeling. “That depends. Are we going to sleep?” You wrinkle your nose playfully and poke at his chest. “It’s Christmas Eve. Have I ever slept on Christmas Eve?”

Harry gives you a playful sigh and it squeezes your hip. “Fair. What do you suppose we do then?” You trail your fingers over his chest, silently mauling over your options. Eventually, you shrug and smile up at him. “Wanna hear about what happened with my dad and the dogs earlier?”

Before he could answer you launch into a very amusing story about how Sirius had turned into Padfoot and gathered your three German Shepherds to devise a plan to sneak some of your Christmas baked goods out of the kitchen. You’d caught all of them with a basket of cookies in their mouths and demanded they put them back. But of course, Sirius had a plan for that too. As if on que they gave you the saddest puppy eyes you’d ever seen. You caved and ended up giving Padfoot three cookies and the dogs two dog biscuits each.

Harry chuckles at your misfortune. “You couldn’t resist puppy-dog eyes?” He teases as his fingers trace zig zags on your hip. You roll your eyes playfully and tug his hair. Harry laughs a bit louder, and soon both talking turns telling stories about your chaotic Christmas Eve days. Harry tells you about how James accidentally spoiled Lily’s Christmas gift, got really embarrassed, and then told her to just act surprised. You follow him up with one about how Remus had accidentally discovered his own gift in the basement, but didn’t realize it was his. He just shut the door and went to feed the birds waiting at the window.

As you two laugh, time passes and the sun sneaks out. You should sneak back into your room, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. You end up falling asleep against Harry’s chest just like you do every year.

#blue’s queue #wolfstar!daughter!reader #harry james potter x reader #harry potter x reader #harry potter x wolfstar!daughter #wolfstar!daughter #harry james potter x y/n #harry james potter x wolfstar!daughter #harry potter x black!reader #harry james potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x you #harry james potter imagine #harry potter imagine #hjp x wolfstar!daughter #hjp x y/n #hjp x you #hjp x reader #hjp

161 notes · View notes

wandabear · 2 months

Text

CHEERFUL OBLIVION - WANDA MAXIMOFF X FEMALE READER (chapter three)

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ

Summary: Your duty is to watch her 'till Chton comes for her, even if you hate it, but do you really hate it? Especially when you start to get to know Wanda. The bond begins to torment you. But, oh Lord, you've never been so in love. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

chapter one chapter two chapter three chapter four chapter five chapter six

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

masterlist

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

tw: angst, violence, blood, mentions of death, fluff, angst with a happy ending.

Jules/Stolas is portrayed by Adelaide Kane. Here.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤchapter three

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ After two hours of travel by quinjet, everyone arrived in Égerszög, a small town in Hungary. The mission was not easy, they had to enter and disrupt an organization linked to Batroc who remained on the run.

ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ

The bad news was that the place was a very old church, close to the well-known caves of that town. If Georges Batroc became aware of their presence, he could escape through the old basements and secret passageways to the cave with ease, although it was quite dangerous. That’s why as insurance against any attack, the mercenary took hostages who remained inside the cave.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

The groups were divided between two or three agents, surrounding that place, Natasha and Yelena interfered as spies. They would go for Batroc, while the agents would take care of their mercenaries.

Y/N’s mission was to rescue the hostages who remained at the entrance of the cave.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I'm going in.” Y/N announced over the earpiece.

Walking cautiously, the demon surrounded the church, taking down every mercenary she saw with agility until she finally could see the door to the cave. It was a rusty iron door, protected by two agents with machine guns and a deadly look. Above them, two snipers stood expectantly in the church bell tower, ready to kill anyone they saw near the door.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Kate, Y/N. Be careful, two snipers are in the church bell tower like two birds of prey.” Natasha's voice was heard in the earpiece.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yes, I can see them.” Y/N muttered, hiding behind an old concrete wall. Next to her was Kate, who was clinging tightly to her bow, somewhat nervously. It wasn't her first mission, but this one wasn't easy and Clint wasn't at her side for the first time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Hey.” The demon caught her attention to look into Kate’s blue eyes. “I'll have your back, okay? I will shoot those at the door, you make the birds fly.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Kate nodded quickly. The archer took out one of the explosive arrows and took a deep breath, nervous about such a dangerous but necessary move. If they didn't get out of there, they would be surrounded by enemies soon.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Don't be afraid, I won't let them shoot you.” Y/N whispered, placing her hand on the girl's shoulder. “I'll go out first, cover your back, shoot the sniper's nest. We will get those hostages out, we will go home and I'll buy you a burger.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Being more confident, Kate nodded and steeled herself as Y/N came running and sliding out of hiding to shoot the agents in front of the door. Hiding behind a destroyed concrete wall, she nodded to Kate before firing again, giving confidence for the archer to come out and fire at the snipers.

As soon as the arrow hit the wood, it took a few seconds to explode, getting rid of those agents and leaving a clear path for them to pass. They ran towards the door and after planting a mini bomb to open it, went inside to take the hostages who were chained.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Let’s go, let’s go!” Y/N yelled as she led those people towards the safe exit, especially when some S.H.I.E.L.D. agents came to help them. She was about to keep going but Kate stopped, taking her arm and looking at her with concern.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Y/N…” Kate stammered looking at the brunette's belly.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Looking down, Y/N belatedly realized that her uniform was soaked in that crimson liquid. Apparently one of the bullets pierced the demon’s stomach in the confrontation and she had not even noticed it, causing blood loss.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Oh no.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I’m okay.” Y/N nodded, willing to continue. They couldn't stop, no one was supposed to find out what she was. This was only going to make it worse. “We must keep going.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“No, but you-” Kate tried to stop her but the demon turned to look her in the eyes.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Kate, I’m okay.” Y/N whispered, hoping Kate would believe her and not have to manipulate the girl into forgetting about it. She promised not to. “Look at me, I'm fine. Trust me.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Y/N didn't want to have to manipulate Kate to make her forget, didn't want to do that with whoever she loved. Despite Y/N's thousands of attempts to ignore the new 'Hawkeye', the girl became one of her greatest friends. One who always came to Y/N when she needed advice or help. Friends, something she couldn't even begin to think about, was what she had now.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She did it so many times in her life, manipulating humans to forget, but now the idea of having to get into Kate's mind to alter it was extremely painful.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

‘Please, don’t make me do it,’ Y/N thought.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Sighing a little thoughtful and worried, the brunette decided to nod. Limping slightly, the demon wasn't going to deny that she was a little bit in pain but it would soon heal. A bullet in the stomach was nothing to her.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“I can't believe you did that for me.” Kate mumbled as they walked towards the quinjet, the hostages now safely on the ship. Shots could be heard in the distance but S.H.I.E.L.D won the battle that time.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Me neither.” Y/N joked as she walked over to sit on the ship, noticing how Natasha approached with concern carrying a first aid kit. She didn't expect one of the 'casualties' to be Y/N.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Thank you.” Kate whispered, taking Y/N’s bloody hand as they waited for the quinjet to finally take off.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Thoughtful, Wanda remained watching through the window, those enormous trees that surrounded the compound. The night arrived and when the lights went out, the stars made that place charming.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

She sighed; couldn't get that kiss out of her mind. The way Y/N grabbed her waist, the way she looked or kissed her. That delicacy and passion at the same time drove Wanda crazy, never thought she could experience something like that.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

When Pietro was alive, he used to scare away every boy who came near her. They had always been so protective of each other. But now her ‘little brother’ was no longer there, and although she felt joy for experiencing love for the first time, she also felt enormous guilt for being happy without him.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Are you okay?” Clint asked as he walked closer. The Sokovian turned to look at him surprised, it was assumed that the man was spending a few days of necessary 'vacation' with his family.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Yes, I’m just-” She started to say but then stopped, she didn't want to bother with such silly problems. “What are you doing here? I thought you were home with Laura and the kids.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“Oh, Stark made me come to see something. I'm free now.” Clint sat next to Wanda. She didn't say anything, just nodded.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“You know you can talk to me. You’re not alone.” Clint always knew how to approach her without making the girl feel pressure or awkward. And Wanda found in him a father figure that she always needed.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Hesitantly, she turned to see the blonde. “I think I like someone.”

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Nodding slowly, Clint momentarily cursed himself for asking about it. He felt like a dad talking to his daughter for the first time about love, but after sighing deeply, he smiled understanding what it was about.

ㅤㅤ ㅤ

“That brooding agent who's always frowning.” Of course the man saw them together many times, Wanda tended to avoid everyone except her.

ㅤㅤ

“Yes.” Wanda cleared her throat, playing with her rings.

ㅤㅤ

“So what do you think?” Clint sighed as he looked up at the sky, the moon shining overhead.

ㅤㅤ

“I don't know, I'm worried…” Wanda murmured barely, afraid that if she said it it would become so real. “I'm terrified of holding on to someone and then losing them.”

ㅤㅤ

The Sokovian sighed, still couldn't fully heal remembering the painful loss of Pietro. How she lost control in Sokovia, and thanks to her friend, Vision, she was safe at that time. If only she had been with Pietro to stop those bullets.

ㅤㅤ

As soon as the witch arrived at the Compound, she completely avoided socializing with everyone in the place. Locking herself in a bedroom until Y/N came. Changing her life completely.

Y/N wasn't trying to get her out of it, rather sharing the loneliness next to her, slowly mitigating the pain.

ㅤㅤ

“I feel happy when I see her, but I also feel guilty for not being able to mourn my brother as I should.” Finally the brunette released that deep pain in her chest, which had been hurting her so much those days when she walked away from Y/N. “I feel like I'm being selfish.”

ㅤㅤ

Clint sighed, thinking carefully about what he wanted to say so as not to cause more harm. He wanted the girl to allow herself to be happy, she and Pietro were so young when they found them. And he'll always be grateful, Pietro gave his life for him, Clint would always be in debt for it. That's why the archer promised to take care of Wanda until the end of his days. ㅤㅤ

“First… She looks like a good girl, and she's a good agent. That's good.” Barton tilted his head, enjoying the silence that surrounded them. “Being happy is not an easy thing for people like us, but we learn to survive the pain and accept the good that comes to us when it does. There is no time for 'grieving'. You just do it, and move forward so you don't die. He is your brother and always will be, but think that he wants the best for you, just as you would want the best for him if it were the other way around.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I will be honest, just be happy, Wanda. Pietro would want that for you, it’s the best way to honor him.” Clint finished by bringing his hand to the girl's shoulder and squeezed it gently. He stood up from her seat, looking at her one more time.

ㅤㅤ

“Thank you, Clint.” The brunette smiled gratefully. “I'd better try to occupy my mind on something else so I'm not so worried.”

ㅤㅤ

“Don't worry... Now I think I have to go or Laura is going to kill me. I can't miss movie night.” He joked as always. Wanda stood up to walk towards the kitchen, while Clint slowly walked away towards the parking lot.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N sighed, lying on that infirmary bed, cursing herself for not having been faster. Well, she couldn't use her powers if Kate was around.

She looked at the IV connected to her arm and just rolled her eyes, happy to be alone for a moment. Of course all this was unnecessary, she didn't need this type of treatment but couldn't say no. After a quick surgery, Helen Cho managed to remove the bullet from her stomach and the demon was now resting.

ㅤㅤ

“Hello, Y/N. How do you feel?” Helen asked as she walked through the door, holding her stark tablet.

ㅤㅤ

“I’m good. Ready to go.”

ㅤㅤ

The doctor remained silent. From her body expression she seemed nervous, and Y/N noticed it quickly. “What's wrong, Doc?” Y/N asked and narrowed her eyes as she watched the woman hesitate.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N…” Helen cleared her throat. “I must tell you the truth, as my patient… W-While I was removing the bullet, I noticed how-”

ㅤㅤ

She stopped, not knowing if she should talk to this woman because maybe Y/N didn't know or if she should talk to one of the avengers first. Or maybe Fury.

ㅤㅤ

“I noticed how part of your organs were regenerating themselves.” Finally the doctor was brave enough to say it. “Slowly, but much faster than a human. The bullet pierced part of the intestine, hit an artery. You couldn't possibly be alive.”

ㅤㅤ

Oh.

ㅤㅤ

“That’s it?” Y/N asked as she took off the covers and got out of bed without much trouble. The wound was still there, but it was nothing the demon couldn't endure. “Does anyone else know?”

ㅤㅤ

Helen shook her head, backing away. “N-no.”

ㅤㅤ

“Good.” Y/N smiled slightly then her eyes changed. Her pupils became vertical, fixed on the doctor's eyes. “Helen, you'll look me right in the eye.”

ㅤㅤ

Even though she tried to refuse the control, Helen could do nothing but nod her head and lose herself in that look.

ㅤㅤ

“You're going to forget everything you said and what you saw. The surgery went well, you haven't seen anything strange.” Y/N hissed at her, easily manipulating her. “You'll discharge me right now because it wasn't that bad.”

ㅤㅤ

Lost in the demon’s gaze, Helen just nodded her head slowly in complete obedience.

ㅤㅤ

“You will forget after my eyes change.”

ㅤㅤ

When Y/N finished and her eyes returned to their human form, the demon sat on the bed and the doctor woke up from that daydream, blinking rapidly.

ㅤㅤ

“Sorry, I started to dissociate.” Helen giggled and Y/N just smiled politely. “So, the surgery went well. Nothing strange, you will recover slowly but you were very lucky. ”

ㅤㅤ

At that moment the door opened, Wanda hurriedly and worriedly approached Y/N to hug her.

ㅤㅤ

“Are you OK?” Wanda exclaimed, taking Y/N's face carefully, terror could be seen in those green eyes.

ㅤㅤ

Y/N giggled, taking Wanda's hand. “I’m fine.”

ㅤㅤ

“How is she?” Ignoring those words, the Sokovian turned to see Helen who smiled tenderly at seeing them together like that. Everyone knew they were 'together'.

ㅤㅤ

“I'm fine!”

ㅤㅤ

“I was telling Y/N that I could discharge her, if this woman behaves well. It wasn't that bad.” Dr. Cho walked over to see that everything was fine on her tablet and then nodded. Y/N’s blood pressure was normal, plus nothing was out of the ordinary. “But you will need rest for a few days.”

ㅤㅤ

“I'll make sure she does.” Wanda nodded, still holding Y/N's hand.

ㅤㅤ

She turned to look at the demon, truly grateful that nothing bad happened to her. As soon as she found out that Y/N was hurt, her life was in total chaos, unable to do anything but wait.

Y/N didn't say anything, she just listened to Wanda talk to the doctor about how careful she should be, and just stayed thoughtful. At first it felt weird, to feel like someone cared about you, but then she felt such great joy that her ears turned red due to blushing.

It was nice, hopeful until all that turned into suffocating guilt. How could Y/N do this to her? The girl was there, doing the best to take care of her and Y/N was just plotting to hurt her as much as possible.

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N?”

ㅤㅤ

Wanda's soft voice made Y/N wake up from that daydream, her gaze lost in that steaming bowl. The sokovian insisted that she should be resting, so Jules gave up her room so that Y/N could sleep peacefully and she would spend the night playing games with Kate, -or possibly with Natasha-.

ㅤㅤ

“What's going on?” Wanda asked a little worried, sitting next to her in that bed. “Is it cold?”

ㅤㅤ

The sokovian made some soup for both of them, saying it would 'help her regain strength'. Of course the demon just giggled thinking about how cute that was, she didn't need it but wasn't going to refuse so much affection.

ㅤㅤ

“No! It's exquisite, it's perfect.” Y/N smiled, taking her hand and leaving a short kiss. “I’m just thinking.”

ㅤㅤ

“Still thinking about the mission?” Wanda settled next to her, watching as the girl slowly ate the soup. She observed carefully Y/N's injured face, a bruise on her left cheekbone, her eyebrow cut but the worst was that shot in her belly, now covered by a bandage.

ㅤㅤ

“Not so much.” Y/N licked her lips, enjoying the taste. She lived for so many years but never enjoyed food as much as she did now. “I was more worried about Kate, but she did great.”

ㅤㅤ

“Kate said you took that bullet for her.” The Sokovian smiled tenderly, despite her concern and fears, she felt very proud of what 'her girl' did to save a friend.

ㅤㅤ

“She's overreacting.” Y/N rolled her eyes and finished the soup, leaving the bowl on the side of the bed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I was so worried. Terrified.” Wanda whispered, she had to be honest with her. Carefully, the Sokovian tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. “I don't want anything to happen to you.”

ㅤㅤ

I don't want anything to happen to you.

ㅤㅤ

Possibly one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to her. Y/N felt her heart jump, no one had ever cared so much about her like that. Her life has always been about manipulating people and avoiding emotional ties.

ㅤㅤ

“I’m okay, I swear… Come here.” The demon assured her with a sincere smile, pulling the brunette over so she could lie down next to her. They both settled into that bed, simply holding hands and looking into each other's eyes.

ㅤㅤ

They spent some time that way, sharing some cute looks and kisses. Y/N told her some stuff about the mission and Wanda about what she talked to Clint, opening up about her fears. Even from the suspicions Y/N had about Jules having 'something' with Natasha.

ㅤㅤ

“Would you like to watch something on TV?” Y/N babbled nervously, hoping the brunette wouldn't take it the wrong way or think she was too 'clingy'. After all, it was the first time she liked someone and didn't know how to do this. “Let's watch a tv show, stay with me all day… after all, I have to rest, right?”

ㅤㅤ

Giggling, Wanda rested her head on Y/N's shoulder. “What do you think of sitcoms?”

ㅤㅤ

“I really like them.” Of course the demon was lying, but she wasn't going to deny the opportunity to share time with Wanda. The Sokovian kissed her softly and then took the remote control to look for something good on some streaming.

She decided to go for Abbott Elementary, a new sitcom that always brought a smile to her face.

ㅤㅤ

After some time sharing laughter and caresses, Wanda sighed when she realized her head was on Y/N's chest. Closeness became normal for both of them, without them realizing it.

Biting her lip, she felt enormous joy hearing Y/N's heart beat for her.

Suddenly Y/N started to laugh, but ended up placing a hand on her belly, feeling this sharp pain.

ㅤㅤ

“Are you okay?” Wanda frowned worriedly.

ㅤㅤ

“Of course, yes, it was just… I laughed. I'm fine, really.” Y/N assured, hoping she would actually believe her.

ㅤㅤ

“I'm kind of scared. Not just before, now...” Looking at the wound, the truth came out of Wanda's lips without even thinking about it.

ㅤㅤ

The demon frowned and turned to look at her curiously. “Why?”

ㅤㅤ

“It sounds really stupid.” The brunette sighed and settled back hugging Y/N, avoiding touching the wound. “I was afraid that something would happen to you, but I'm not going to be hypocritical, I’m scared because I don't want you to play with my heart.”

ㅤㅤ

Y/N took a moment to think about what to say. She didn't want to lie to Wanda, nor could she tell her the truth. So, what should she do? Half-truths were as painful as a dagger.

ㅤㅤ

“That's something I will never do.” The demon decided to speak the truth. Y/N didn't want to do it but knew she would do it without wanting to. She didn't want to break Wanda's heart, although she existed for that, Wanda achieved something impossible and that is that the demon felt something for someone other than herself. “I really care about you. I really like you.”

ㅤㅤ

Smiling at those sincere words, Wanda felt like she could finally give herself to her, give destiny a chance, could finally trust that everything would be okay.

Just settled on her girl's chest and let herself be happy for once.

ㅤㅤ

Time passed and Y/N's health had miraculously improved. Of course those wounds healed much faster, so she had to pretend to still be recovering. Natasha allowed her to return to training, and that was a good thing to keep her mind occupied. A mind that didn't stop working, trying to think how to cope with the situation.

ㅤㅤ

Time was running out and Abaddon demanded to see results, and as if that were not enough, fate played a very big trick on Y/N, making her end up falling in love with Wanda.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I've noticed that you're feeling better.” Jules said as she entered the room they shared, noticing that Y/N was putting some dirty clothes in her bag to take them to wash. She would never have thought that Leviathan, the great devastating demon, would be doing such mundane things like that.

Y/N nodded slowly, thankful that the place was almost empty. She turned around, watching as Jules sat on her bed.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“How you do it? Isn't it hard for you?” Y/N broke their silence, Jules narrowed her eyes not knowing what she meant. “Pretending.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh.” Jules murmured. She couldn't find a good enough answer for that, just looked down, feeling guilty. Y/N hadn't even thought about what Stolas was feeling right now. If she was confused, assumed her 'friend' was too. How could she have been so inconsiderate?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

That thought of hers only made Y/N laugh; she was a demon. A big one, that was something she had to be. Why did something that she was meant to do by nature make her feel so bad?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“It's getting so hard, Stolas. I don't know what I'm doing here, but I'm not doing what I should do.” Y/N whispered, moving closer to sit next to Jules, who remained looking at the floor. “You have to leave.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What?” She looked up, surprised. After a few seconds of silence, the dark-haired woman broke it and said determinedly, like never before. “No. I won't do it.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Frowning, confused but more offended by Stolas's disobedience, Y/N turned to look at her. “I'm not asking you. You must leave soon, Stolas.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s 'Jules' here.” The brown-eyed girl finally looked into her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“If Abaddon finds out about this, she's going to kill you too.” Y/N whispered worried, for the first time, for who she considered a friend. “Won't even think, she will do it.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Jules shook her head. “I’m with you.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I can't bear your death too!” Finally Y/N exploded, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and calm herself down. Things were getting out of control.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I don't know how we got here, I told you we shouldn't get involved!” Y/N angrily shook her head and looked around. “When we arrived, the place could have burned down and I wouldn't even care. I would have danced on the ashes! But now… now everything is different. Everything hurts.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I know.” Jules murmured wistfully.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, you don’t know.” The demon interrupted quickly. “I care about them-”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“YES, I DO!” Jules screamed angrily and got out of bed. For the first time she exploded, showing her true nature, showing her true eyes. Those eyes changed to ones quite similar to those of a bird of prey, a bright orange color, pupils as dark as night. But as soon as she realized her mistake, those eyes turned brown again.

Frowning, Y/N said nothing. She understood Stolas' pain, because she was feeling that endless number of contradictory feelings too.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, the dark-haired girl looked down, ashamed to shout at a superior. “I know it, Y/N, I care too. Everything around me matters to me, and I hate it… but I also like it.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I gotta be honest with you.” Jules swallowed nervously, maybe this would change everything but she couldn't take it anymore. “Abaddon did send me to spy on you.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Maybe she expected Y/N to be surprised or scream at her or rather to end her life for betrayal, but the superior demon only smiled with a certain tenderness, perhaps a little proud.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I know.” Y/N shrugged. She wasn't stupid and she knew the redhead's intentions very well.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“No, you don't understand! She sent me to spy on you but I never said anything!” Jules approached, horrified by the guilt that was drowning her. “I haven't even been reporting back to her and I think that's making her angry, but if I do, she'll know I'm lying. For a long time she has thought that you will start a rebellion, using Wanda at your convenience.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Fear could be seen reflected in Jules' eyes and that made Y/N feel some worry.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“She will burn everything to ashes, Leviathan… and I like this place. I like the air I breathe, and I like it when I eat breakfast, and I like it when the birds sing or the crickets make that sound.” The lower rank demon sighed, embarrassed for disappointing Y/N but that was the truth. And she would die accepting it. “I like it when I play video games with Kate, or when Natasha looks at me or asks me if I'm okay. And I don't want to lose it, even if I have been part of their suffering, I like them. ”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N didn't know what to say. It was one thing to feel confused because of where they were, because of living with humans for so long but Jules seemed really affected by it. But it was a very different thing to bet your life on them. The anguish in those eyes was real.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“And even if you hate it... I've learned these months about friendship, and I will stay by your side until the end. I am loyal to you, even if I die.” The teary eyes of who was Stolas, a powerful demon, made Y/N understand the complex situation they were in.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Nodding, Y/N placed her hand on Jules' shoulder but the brunette quickly rushed towards her to hug tightly.

Surprised, Y/N just patted her back gently, more confused than ever but trying to provide reassurance to her friend. “We'll find a solution.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Like flowers blooming thanks to spring, the love between Wanda and Y/N also blossomed in a strong and powerful way.

Wanda was no longer that melancholy girl who lived locked up in her room, learned to open herself up to others freely, and Natasha was grateful for that because she found an amazing friend in her.

And she wasn't going to deny that it helped a lot in managing her powers. Y/N was a great help training alongside her, helping the Witch to focus and handle the magic better. Magic that previously came from pain and chaos was now much less violent and explosive.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

And just as Y/N was a positive development in Wanda's life to work on herself and her powers, Wanda was teaching the demon to let herself be loved little by little. She noticed that Y/N was not used to affection, but she learned by her side, trying to be romantic and affectionate in her own way.

Seeing how the woman tried to understand, how she smiled genuinely or every time Y/N showed her with words or actions how much she loves her. Especially that chaotic night where Y/N finally discovered that she was madly in love with Wanda, and there was nothing that could change it. They were in love, and there was no one in the Compound who didn't notice it.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

But of course, Wanda was also worried that she didn't know much about her either. Y/N never talked about her past life or her family, and that caused a little insecurity in the Sokovian.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ But the good thing was that Abaddon seemed to be perfectly swallowing that Wanda was beginning to decline, perhaps in half a year she would be ready. At least that's what Y/N and Jules told her, feeding her small advances to keep the Knight happy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Will you...?”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The grass tickled against her skin, a feeling so strange and at the same time so nice. The warm sun hit her face, such a pleasant and familiar feeling.

Sighing, Y/N opened her eyes meeting that green gaze that only showed immense tenderness.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda smiled when she saw her; both were in front of the lake enjoying a delicious lunch. Y/N rested her head on her legs while Wanda looked at the lake, so calm and relaxing.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“What do you mean?” Y/N wrinkled her nose.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You know what I mean.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “You know everything about me.” Y/N played dumb.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You’re adorable.” Wanda confessed, gently pressing her nose with a finger.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m not.” Y/N growled, squinting her eyes so as not to look directly at the sun as she sat next to her again. “But thanks for surprising me with this brunch.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Smiling flirtatiously, Wanda ended the distance between them and kissed her lover's lips once more. A tender and short kiss, but full of such strong feelings. A girl who overcomes her fears of losing, to let herself be loved. And a demon that didn't know how to love, beginning to be afraid of losing her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Just one kiss of those lips was all it took to seal Y/N’s future.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“Since I met you, you make me feel so much better.” Wanda whispered against her lips, caressing Y/N's face tenderly. “I don't know how you do it.”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Moved by those words, Y/N just bit her lower lip trying to quell the enormous urge to smile. “I just like being by your side, the rest is just... because of you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Stunned by just looking at that woman, those eyes so attractive and mysterious, those lips so soft, the sokovian kissed Y/N one more time. They stayed like that for an hour, chatting about the Avengers and about how quickly the demon healed from her injury. Wanda was watching over her, taking care, trying to make everything easier. And even though Y/N felt a little guilty for 'pretending' that she was still recovering, she also took advantage of being spoiled by her girlfriend.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’ve to go now… Otherwise Natasha will kill me.” Wanda murmured between kisses, unable to move away from the brunette but still had to.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Smiling numbly, Y/N confessed: “I find it very difficult to let you go.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“How about… you have a date with me tonight?” Wanda looked down to play with her rings, she looked a little shy but also flirtatious. “Maybe we could be alone... all night. Watching a movie or something.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Raising a curious eyebrow, Y/N felt her heart skip a beat. Was that a date or something else? Maybe Natasha or Kate could help her with this. “That would be lovely.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“See you later, detka.” The green eyed girl said first and stole the demon’s heart once again.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I love it when you call me that.” Y/N said without regret, without fear, without doubt. For the first time she allowed herself to feel, and thanks to Wanda she began to discover what love was.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Now she understood all those songs, now she understood all those tears and poems. Now she perfectly understood Alfonsina Storni, Pablo Neruda and Alejandra Pizarnik.

She was always a bit patient with certain humans, but never thought she could love one. Nodding with a smile, Wanda stole a short kiss before walking away.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N watched this amazing woman, her girlfriend, walk away to enter the compound. But that happiness did not last long, especially when that sudden and horrible feeling came to her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

The presence of an evil being became so strong, that her eyes changed to see where such negative energy came from.

In the distance, she could see how a strange old man was watching her among the trees. With a hunched body, his hair was greasy and his smile was macabre, but the worst of all was its nauseating smell.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Bile rushed up her throat, terrified. Y/N quickly got up and walked towards that place, noticing that the man now was walking away playing among the trees. As if it were a game, hide and seek.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Stolas.” Y/N summoned the demon as she quickly walked. Instantly Jules appeared at her side, walking next to her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What is it?” The brunette asked worriedly, if Y/N summoned her just like that it was a big deal. Y/N didn't say anything, just told her to keep quiet. They both chased that man until he took them to a clearing, far enough away from the others. Even though the demon was slippery, Y/N was faster and caught it, slamming it into one of the trees.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you doing here, Furcas?” Y/N growled, showing fangs. Y/N tightened her grip on the demon's neck, making it stir. “Answer me! Is Abaddon here?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Even though she wanted to rip his head off, Y/N loosened her grip on his neck so he could answer. Furcas was a very different demon. Some demons were fallen angels who ended up in an awful place, but Furcas was born from the very perversion and depravation.

ㅤㅤㅤ

He was renowned for being a low-ranking demon, but above all, he was renowned for being vicious. That demon was the complete opposite of Y/N. Torture wasn't enough for him, he always had a fascination with repulsive perversions. Things that not even Y/N could come to think of.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“She's not here, I-I decided to come and see if everything was okay.” He said with a creepy and squeaky voice. Furcas smiled widely, trying to free himself but it was impossible. “Abaddon thinks she is suffering but I see her very happy there, smiling next to you.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Shut up.” Y/N narrowed her eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Stretching out her arm, a sword appeared in her hand. The grip was strong and dark, the blade had a terrifying edge and strange inscriptions on it. Enochian could be read, isomething that the closest thing in English could be 'willbreaker'. “Do you know what this is?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Of course Furcas knew what it was. Very few demons had one of those, a fallen angel sword. When Y/N placed the blade on the demon's neck, it shifted restlessly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“The boss is getting tired of waiting.” He hissed trying to get away from the deadly blade. “And I want to make her happy. A great promotion.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“He's going to fuck it all up.” Jules whispered behind her, shifting into those demonic eyes. “Put that sword through him now.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“If I do that, there will be chaos. There will be no going back.” Y/N gulped, fixing her gaze on him.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“There won't be any turning back anyway.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

If she finished off Furcas, Abaddon would become suspicious of his absence but if she didn't, he would run to spill everything to her. Of course, the redhead wouldn't take kindly to Y/N's relationship with Wanda.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Abaddon's been eager to see how Maximoff's doing... but you're here playing with the little witch.” Furcas moved his tongue in a really disgusting and disturbing way. So much so that it made Y/N wrinkle her nose in disgust. “You were just doing nasty wicked things to her… I love those games. Can I play with her too? ”

ㅤㅤㅤ

He was the kind of demon you wanted to keep away. Y/N clenched her jaw and fought the urge to cut off his head all at once. The disgusting way he referred to Wanda simply made her blood boil.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Shut up, you disgusting creature!” Jules shouted, taking a step forward but Y/N's look made her stop.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But far from stopping, Furcas continued inciting and provoking them, bursting into manic laughter. “Maybe I’ll just gonna hold her down and enjoy it for a few hours, might even live through it. I’ve got some... anatomical incompatibilities that tend to tear up little girls.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

That was all she needed to hear to react.

Y/N felt her hand tremble, her eyes widening due to the anger she felt in those moments. As she was invaded by that violent nature, she ended up exploding, taking a step back but stabbing her sword into the demon's chest with enormous violence and strength.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No one is going to touch her, I will make sure to destroy anyone who comes near her.” Y/N hissed, baring her fangs.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Furcas opened his mouth to complain but she plunged the sword even deeper, ending up destroying him. Painful, very painful it must be, the demon's eyes turned red due to the pain and then his chest burned. Y/N watched as Furcas slowly faded into black ashes until he disappeared. It was an action that would have serious consequences and she knew it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“There's the answer you needed. Get ready because things are going to get very messy from now on.” Y/N sighed deeply. Jules nodded, watching as the sword disappeared again from Y/N's hand.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Go to Abaddon, tell her she's grieving the loss of… I don't know, make something up.” Y/N placed a hand on her forehead, trying to think. Everything happened so damn fast. “Tell her Wanda’s powers are improving a lot, tell her that you think it will be soon but don't say how long. Always remember to show her how weak I feel lately and how powerful she is becoming, make her feel good.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Jules nodded quickly, knowing that she would have to give her best performance hoping the Knight wouldn't find out. Y/N turned on her heels, facing Jules and praying to the universe that she could do it. “Don't let her find out.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'll do it right, trust me.” Sighing and taking courage, the brunette nodded before disappearing from that place in a blink.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N inhaled deeply and closed her eyes as the breeze moved the leaves of the trees, the scent of sulfur completely disappeared and now she could only smell the linden tree and… there was something else.

Frowning, Y/N's senses caught a familiar scent.

Fuck no.

Y/N turned quickly looking towards the place where that scent came from, exposing her eyes without realizing it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“W- what was that?” Kate stammered coming out from behind one of the trees. She looked quite fearful, her hands were shaking. “W-What's wrong with your eyes?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Shifting her eyes to her human form, Y/N took a step forward but Kate instantly backed her away. Kate saw it all. “What are you doing here, Kate?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I s-saw you guys walking here a-and I thought you were jog-jogging... I- I wanted to catch up with you-” The archer stammered in fear, backing away so much that she ended up crashing into the nearest tree.

The look of terror in her friend's eyes was like a stab to Y/N's heart in those moments. How could they have been so stupid? They were so focused on Furcas that they hadn't noticed that Kate was after them.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What happened to your eyes? What are you? Why did that thing turn into ashes?” The brunette repeated desperately trying to search for the truth. “I thought you were my friend.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Seeing Jules disappear was not something that surprised her so much, but seeing how that creature died at the hands of her 'friends' did.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Listen to me, Kate.” The demon tried to make the girl calm down, could hear her heart beating desperately. “There are things you don't know... that I will explain to you if you calm down and listen to me. I promise to tell you the whole truth.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Seeing her retreat only reaffirmed how scared Kate was and that she wasn't going to see reason. “Please, don't run.”

ㅤㅤㅤ That request only upset the girl even more, especially when Y/N approached again. Frightened, the archer decided to run to save her life.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Saying that never works.” Y/N sighed defeatedly.

ㅤㅤㅤ Kate Bishop ran desperately through the trees, following the 'runners' path that were around the compound. Her heart was beating wildly, fearing being caught, fearing for her life. She couldn't believe it, couldn't believe she saw her friends acting that way, that thing disappear among ashes. What were they? They didn't look good at all.

Those eyes.

ㅤㅤㅤ Y/N shouted after her trying to stop her but it was no use. Desperation played tricks on her, making the archer stumble and fall to the ground in such a way that her knee ended up injured.

Hissing in pain, Kate saw some blood but the pain went away when she saw Y/N suddenly appearing in front of her.

ㅤㅤㅤ Putting her fear aside, Kate stood up ready to fight for her life. She wasn't going to keep running, it seemed pointless anyway.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Don't be afraid, I just want to talk with you.” Y/N tried to reason with her but Kate threw the first punch, starting a fight she knew she was going to lose. Kate would never be like that, the demon knew that the archer would always listen to her but right now she was scared.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N dodged every one of her punches, the demon didn't want to attack her but had no choice but to take advantage. Catching her fist, Y/N forced the girl to turn around grabbing her from behind to stop it. Fear was not only seen in Kate's eyes but also in the demon.

ㅤㅤㅤ She didn't want to hurt the one she now considered her friend. She didn't want to manipulate her. But there was no choice.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Kate, please, I don't want to do this.” Y/N whimpered trying to hold her down. Tears formed in Y/N's eyes for the first time, as Kate tried to break free.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Let me go!”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Knowing there was no other option and that Kate didn't seem to understand due to fear, Y/N quickly turned her around to look at those blue eyes. The demon's eyes changed, that strange and terrifying orange that quickly gained the archer's attention. As if she were being deeply hypnotized.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Kate, look at me…” Y/N hissed, feeling Kate leave that violent attitude and her body finally let go. Completely stunned, the girl just nodded. “Forget what you saw and go with Yelena. You won't remember any of this.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The demon felt enormous sadness for having to do this.

For months she avoided doing something like that with them, with the people she was really starting to care, to love, and Kate was one of them. But she had no choice, they couldn't find out about all this in such an aggressive way. They would think Kate was crazy, maybe Wanda would end up exploding.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“When my eyes change, you will wake up.” Y/N finished, her eyes going back to normal and so did her friend, who blinked rapidly somewhat confused.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Ugh, my head hurts.” Kate complained, feeling that awful migraine but frowned seeing her scraped knee. “Ouch, what happened to my knee?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Clearing her throat, the demon approached to help her. She took Kate’s arm so the girl could lean on it. “Me and Jules went for a walk and found you here. You fell and blacked out for a moment.” She lied.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Kate frowned, a bit confused as she didn't remember it, but understandable if she passed out. Possibly migraine was to blame for that.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you, Y/N. I'm glad you were here.” The archer looked into her eyes and smiled tenderly and sincerely grateful, clinging to her arm as they walked together down the path straight to the Compound. “It's the second time you saved me. You're a good friend.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Those words broke Y/N's heart, who could only smile sadly and melancholy. How could she have done that to her friend? Who blindly trusted her.

There was no other option. “You are a great friend too, Kate.” She said with a thin voice.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Her gaze rested on the handle of that door for about ten minutes, thinking about how to begin, what she was going to say. How was she going to do it? Trying to gain courage to do what she had to do, for so long.

Things got out of control, she needed to face the situation.

Y/N cleared her throat and finally knocked on the door, expecting that woman to be gone or to just have to get out of there but when the door finally opened, she sighed.

That was her punishment for all the bad deeds.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Wanda was in front of her, with a happy smile and an excited look. And all Y/N could say, feeling her heart break, was: “We need to talk.”

here goes some amazing and lovely people tags ✨ : @wandanatfan @get-the-fuck-outta-here @idontknow-llol @marvelogic

Thank you so much for reading me! ✨ I'm working hard so you can havethe next one sooner.

If you want me to tag you in the next chapters, just comment and I will. Thank you very much for reading me, honeybee! It means a lot! 🐝

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ

Do you want to help me? Wow, that's adorable and means a lot. You can buy me a coffee here!

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

94 notes · View notes

joelswritingmistress · 2 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 47

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

You never really know what you would do in that situation until it becomes reality. In this case, that situation was one where an unknown assailant is giving quiet, controlled commands to follow. Every instinct in my body was to do exactly the opposite of what I was being told to do.

“Walk straight to the elevator. Take it down to the basement level. The door straight ahead is unlocked. Go through it. Walk straight through the salt caves and open the door at the far end. Enter the room. If you try to cause a disturbance or draw attention to yourself, someone you love will die.”

The feisty woman in me wanted to blow up his spot. I wanted to go screaming through the hallways banging on doors for help. I knew I should have. But what if that meant someone I loved would die? What if it wasn’t an idle threat? What if this person had the means to do just that? And which person was he speaking of?

“Pull your hood up.” His voice was all whispers. I couldn’t make out his identity. “Walk to the elevator. I’ll be just behind you.”

Fuck. Why was I about to obey?

So no one will die, I answered myself internally.

“Stay in front of me.” The man grabbed my cell phone and slung it into his pocket before ushering me toward the door. When the two of us emerged into the hallway, I took a deep breath. There was freedom here, yet I was imprisoned. The walk down the dimly lit corridor to the elevators felt like a death march. Maybe it would be.

I glanced to the right out the windows that gave a view of the empty slopes. Such a different point of view at this late hour.

“Is this part of the bachelorette party?” I asked, wondering if this was some elaborate scheme. Maybe Carol hired a male stripper or something to carry out some freaky, funny scenario. He did order me to the basement, after all. That’s where we had our pedicures, lounged around the salt caves and took a dip in the jacuzzi.

“No.” That was the only response.

When the elevators came into view I was hoping to see someone. Anyone. Someone I could flag down and somehow discreetly let them know I was in trouble. Or at least I thought I was in trouble.

My heart was pounding when the doors opened and no one else was inside. I closed my eyes and hesitated, only stepping onto the platform when the person shoved me forward. When I glanced over my shoulder, I could see a stark white mask covering his face and his hood was pulled up to cover his hair.

Regardless, he moved to get out of the way and motioned to the buttons. I pressed the glowing circle with the letter B in the center of it and down we went. Whatever was waiting for me there was unavoidable. I still held hope that a giant prank was in order. Maybe the whole family or the wedding party or both would be waiting down there.

Dr. Miller had gone somewhere for wedding shenanigans. But why would the person say that someone would die? And why would he take my phone? The hope I had grew bleaker with each passing thought, and with each passing floor. When a clunking sound finally indicated we had reached our destination, I swallowed hard.

My hands were shaking. My heart continued to thud. The doors flung open and the spa that I had leisurely visited for relaxation not all that long ago looked like a dungeon. It was dark and desolate. Even the smells that lingered in the air felt different; musty. All remnants of what this place had been during the day were tragically missing.

I took a deep breath and stepped out, trying to remember the exactly directions.

“Where do I go?” I asked aloud.

Over my shoulder his arm extended and his index finger was a straight line. I walked forward, glancing in all directions.

“The spa is closed,” I said aloud. As afraid as I had been up to this point, an internal instinct for survival kicked in and I made an attempt to run back toward the elevator.

It caught him off guard. The man chased after me and I began peppering the word, “Fuck,” outloud as I began to push the little button with the arrow.

The doors reopened and I bolted back into the elevator, only to be yanked back by my hair.

I screamed for the first time and then I was lifted from my feet, thrown over his shoulder as he carried me away. I watched as the elevator doors closed and got farther and farther away with each step he made into the blackness; the obscurity.

I kicked and screamed at first, trying to get away, but within just a second it got all the more real. With one swift movement he placed me down and there was an unmistakable feeling at the base of my throat. A thin, cold line pressed into my skin and it felt hard to breathe. A knife. The blade. All this person had to do was push and my life could be over. Right there.

“Okay,” I choked out, “Okay.” All hope for a bachelorette party was long gone. This was real. I was going to die in the spa of this place that had been a paradise no less than fifteen minutes earlier.

He walked me forward. The blade was still against my neck and we stepped in sync, like some kind of synchronized dance routine. I barely recognized the salt caves when they came into view. The lights were dimmer. The smell was musty. Each time I breathed in and out I worried the edge of the blade might penetrate my skin.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I could have gagged, but I managed not to. When I swallowed hard again it hurt. I knew asking him to loosen up his grasp would do no good. If anything, I thought it might prompt him to push harder against my throat.

The spongy ground beneath my feet somehow reminded me of quicksand. Metaphorically, that was the equivalent of this trek through the caves. I was getting deeper and deeper, and it became less likely that I would make it out again. There was no cavalry coming over the hill to save me or help out this situation. I knew I had to figure it out on my own.

We rounded a bend and the musty smell mixed with that of chlorine. It was a familiar smell. One that reminded me of the bottom lair of Dr. Miller’s house. A white sign with navy blue lettering and an arrow came into view beside a door I could barely make out. As we grew closer, I could see what the sign read.

POOL THIS WAY.

Pool. Swimming. What did this person have in mind? And how much did they know about me and my habits? Dr. Miller had taught me enough in our times together that I could make it short distances staying afloat; but what would happen if this guy flat out pushed me into the deep end of this swimming pool?

Death by drowning or death by stabbing. My options felt grim.

The chlorine smell was magnified when he reached around me and pulled the door open, still positioning himself at my rear. Outstretched before me was an oversized swimming pool, twice the size of Dr. Miller’s. The blue glow was the only lighting in the place.

A loud clank made me jump and I turned around to face the masked man behind me as he secured the door shut.

I put some distance between him and myself, though I stared right at him. In my mind I showed no fear, but I could feel my body trembling.

“What do you want?” I asked him. “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” He spoke normally now, all traces of his raspy whispers were gone, and I felt the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I knew that voice. He wasn’t a stranger. Not by a long shot.

“Is-is this a joke?” It had to be, right? It had to be. Though, at the same time I knew it couldn’t be. There was a long, drawn out pause. It was almost too dramatic. And then he removed the mask.

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandojojo @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @smolbeanzzz @sarcasm-theotherwhitemeat @bandluvr97

76 notes · View notes

strixcattus · 21 days

Text

Chapter IV: Violence/Passion

He's going to die here.

History

The cabin comes into view blurrily, almost like they’re just waking up. They didn’t doze off in the cabin, did they? That wouldn’t make a very good first impression on the Princess.

Though, this cabin doesn’t look like that first one. Its walls are formed from pale, rough stone, with openings in the sides to serve as windows. The doors are more of the same, cutting quite an impressive figure. Instead of a plain wooden table, there’s a metal altar holding the blade, and a couple loose planks lie askew on the floor. The cabin normally wouldn’t look like this on the first go-around, would it?

So why doesn’t Smitten remember what they did last time?

It’s probably not all that important. Even if he doesn’t remember, surely someone must. He’ll just have to go along.

“Well, boys?” he asks. “Shall we go and see what form our beloved has taken this time?”

No one says anything. That’s rude of them.

No one does anything, either. That’s a bit far for a prank.

“Very funny of you,” he says, listening for any sign that someone else is here. “Yes, you’ve got me this time, good joke, now let’s be off to fulfill our… destiny…”

It’s completely silent. There’s no one else here.

His shoulders drop, and he turns around to face the door to the outside. His body obeys, allowing him to see that the cabin is entirely empty, except for him.

That probably isn’t good.

Maybe something happened to the others. Maybe they’re somewhere outside. Maybe they’ve been tossed about to different cabins like this one.

If they are, he’s sure it’ll all work out. They’re resourceful people. Everything’s going to be fine.

Still, he should try to find them. He’ll just pop down to the basement, free the Princess from her imprisonment, and then the two of them can meet up with everyone else who’s also made their way out. It’ll be easy.

He leaves the blade on its altar. Wouldn’t want to give the Princess the wrong impression, if she has as little memory as he does.

The doors are heavy, resisting his attempts to wrench them open no matter how much he strains. Eventually, one of them folds and scrapes slowly across the floor, and the other follows a little more easily. The stairs beyond are cramped, stone walls pressing in on him, but they don’t look as though they’ll pose any obstacle. If those doors were to decide to close again, though, he might be in trouble.

Oh well. He’s sure the Princess will be more than capable of getting the two of them out, if the doors even do shut on them. The Narrator, conniving scoundrel that he is, is blissfully absent, and he was always the one that tried to meddle.

“Is that a challenger?” the Princess calls from the basement. Her voice echoes off the stone walls. “Finally. I haven’t had a good fight in far too long.”

A fight? Why would she want to fight him? They have the same goal!

Maybe she just got the wrong impression in some time he doesn’t remember. He should say something to put her mind at ease. “Fear not, Princess!” he cries. “I have no ill intentions towards you!”

She laughs. “Is that so? Why don’t you come down so we can meet face-to-face, then?”

This is progress! Probably. She does sound like she’s willing to talk. And he was planning to finish climbing down the stairs anyway.

The basement is less like a room and more like a cave, not much wider than the stairs. The Princess stands at one end, taking up most of the wall, chain in place on her wrist.

A pair of horns rise from her forehead, framing a set of spikes that look almost like the crown she usually has. The skirt of her dress is translucent, with a slit in the side, and a long tail curls around her. Her feet look more like hooves.

She’s beautiful.

Her eyes narrow onto his hands. “No little knife, huh? Did you forget to bring it with you?”

Is she talking about the blade? She must be convinced there’s no way out unless she’s cut free from her chains. “Fret not, fair maiden. We won’t need the blade for this.”

“Is that so?” The Princess grins. “Good.”

Smitten steps closer, reaching for the shackle on her arm. This is going well. He’ll slip her hand from the chains with no problem at all, and they’ll leave the cabin and go see what else is out there… as long as that mirror doesn’t show up again.

It won’t. It can’t. He won’t stand for it.

He should probably ask her name once they’re out, too. But one thing at a time. He’ll slip her hand from the chains…

His back lands on the hard stone floor, sending shockwaves through his bones.

The events leading up to the landing piece themselves together backwards. He landed on the floor because he fell. Why? Because the Princess pushed him. No, pushed isn’t the right word—she grabbed his arm and threw him to the floor. Why? Heck if he knows. All he did was reach for the chain.

He looks back up at the Princess, vision swimming back into place. She’s frowning at him. Why is she frowning at him? She ought to know he has no intention of hurting her, right?

“Are you really going to give up this quickly?” she asks.

His brain hasn’t finished pulling itself back together, so all he can say is, “What?” And, if he were being honest, that’s probably what he would say if he were in peak condition.

“You hit the ground once and you’re down for the count?” The Princess leans over him. “Did you just come down here to toy with me or what?”

Toy with… her? But he had no such intentions… right? “I can assure you, my intentions have never been anything but pure.” He pulls himself to his feet as his vision finally snaps back into one piece. “If you’ll allow me to remove that shackle, the two of us can go at once.”

The Princess looks down at the chain. “What, worried it’ll slow me down? You must be confident.” Before Smitten can figure out what she means by that, she begins to strain against the chain, metal groaning before it finally snaps. She’s free! This is great! “You’d better live up to the figure you’re making yourself out to be.”

“Oh, I would never dare mislead y—” Smitten begins, cut off by a fist landing on his shoulder and throwing him across the room. His flight is cut short by the wall of the basement, head directly striking the stone. Some imperceptible noise echoes in his ears.

Didn’t he just say she could trust him? Why doesn’t she trust him?

The world is slowly beginning to decide it would rather not remain in one place. Smitten wobbles on his feet as he takes a few steps towards the Princess, nearly having to lean on one wall for support. “Why would you… do that… my love…” he wheezes, lungs refusing to cooperate with him.

“What do you mean, why would I do that?” The Princess stares at him, her arms folded. “Why wouldn’t I do that? You did come down here for a fight, didn’t you? Or are you less honest than you claim to be?”

A… fight? He never said anything about a fight or that sounded like it was about a fight or fight-related or anything of the sort… right?

“I’m afraid I… don’t have any idea… what you’re talking about.” He slumps against one wall, legs unwilling to do their job on their own. “All I want is… to set you free.”

“And what if I don’t want to be free?” The Princess takes a step towards him—he thinks. It’s all a little blurry. “What if I want something else?” Another. Probably. “What if what I want is for you to fetch your little knife and fight me?” She’s either right in front of him or still by the back wall. It’s still unclear.

Smitten wobbles backwards. He can’t tell if it’s on purpose or not. “Th—that can’t be right. Freeing Princesses is always the right thing to do.”

The Princess grits her teeth. “You are impossible! Why don’t you start thinking for once so that I don’t have to!” She reaches out with her hand, faster than Smitten can see—not that that necessarily means it’s fast, with the way he is right now—and grabs his throat. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kill you, right now, so you can come back with a half-decent head on your shoulders. And when you do, you’re going to take your little knife, and you’re going to march right down to this basement and fight me.”

The pressure on Smitten’s neck tightens. He’s going to die. He should probably say something nice before he dies. A nice little pre-death one-liner while he’s still pre-death. A nice little… that shouldn’t be too hard…

His meandering is cut off with a pop, or maybe it’s a snap, or maybe it’s more of a squelch or even a crunch. It’s still a little hard to tell what’s going on around him, and more so to put words to it.

But words don’t matter in some cases. No matter what combination of letters accurately capture whatever sound he hears, soon after everything goes dark, and he dies.

He shoots to his feet before he can take stock of the cabin he’s in. That part comes after. The walls are made from a pale, rough stone, with open holes for windows, and the doors to the basement are heavy and carved from the same material. The blade lies on a metal altar—

This is the same cabin.

The Princess’s final words to him dance just out of his grasp. He certainly wasn’t doing all right in the head by the time she killed him, was he? At least that’s over and he can approach her with a clear mind.

It must have been important, though, whatever she said. “I’m going to… you can come back… and when you do… right down to this basement.” There must have been something in between all that…

Oh! Of course! She must have seen how badly he was doing and killed him knowing he’d come back in one piece and be able to hold a proper conversation with her. How thoughtful of her!

He strides over to the doors with a bounce in his step. This time, he knows to brace himself in order to wrench them open.

The Princess is waiting at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded. Her face falls when she sees him. Why would she…?

“I thought I told you to bring your knife this time around,” she says. “Do you just not have it or what?”

Is she forgetting something? Is he forgetting something? “You must be mistaken. We don’t need to cut you free. If you’ll just allow me to—”

She growls. “Did everything that happened last time breeze through your empty head? If I wanted to be free, I would be.” She pulls against the chain, metal snapping and falling to the floor in pieces, leaving only the shackle around her wrist. “Now go and get that knife so we can fight.”

The memories that abandoned ship the moment Smitten hit his head start to drift back. “Going to… take… knife… right down to this basement… fight me.”

But that doesn’t make any sense. “Why would you want me to fight you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” She narrows her eyes. “Why don’t you? It’s fun. And it feels right.”

Smitten laughs a little as he backs away. “I don’t know if I’d exactly describe it that way, though I suppose… if it would make you happy…” There’s something wrong with this Princess. Not that there could possibly be anything wrong with any Princess—they’re all perfect in their own way—but this one has something wrong with her.

He does a little hop back to the base of the stairs. The Princess continues to watch him. “I’ll, ah, be going to fetch that blade now,” he says. “I shall return posthaste.”

Then he turns and bolts up the stairs, not stopping to catch his breath until he’s well and fully in the upper part of the cabin.

She wants to fight him. But that’s not… that’s not how this works, right? She’s supposed to want to be free. Sure, there were a couple Princesses that had other intentions, but that was only after they’d been wronged and were out to take righteous revenge!

…Did something happen to her in the time Smitten hasn’t been allowed to see? Is she trying to take out her anger on him? But that doesn’t sound quite right.

She wants to fight him. Not to kill him, presumably. Just to fight him a little. She doesn’t look angry—at least she didn’t, not before they properly got to talking. Maybe a little spar could be fun, if it’ll make her happy. She said it would be, so he’ll believe her.

“I hope you aren’t trying to run away,” the Princess calls from below. “What’s taking so long?”

Smitten jumps and scoops the blade from the altar. “Don’t worry, fair maiden! I’m merely steeling my nerves for our battle.” He may as well play it up. If a fight’s what she wants, he’ll do his level best to make it as dramatic as possible.

He steps down the stairs, taking in deep breaths to steady himself. He can’t let the Princess down.

She is waiting for him in the basement, and her face breaks into a grin when he comes into view. “Finally. Let’s get started, shall we?”

“We shall.” Smitten raises the blade, pointing it at the Princess. “En garde!”

The Princess doesn’t waste any time in launching herself across the room, fist narrowly missing Smitten’s face. He ducks past her—she’s tall—and whirls around, catching her arm with the blade as she aims another punch. A few drops of blood fly away from the nick and splatter on the floor.

He didn’t mean to do that.

She seems to take notice, stepping back instead of continuing her attack and glancing at the cut in her arm. It’s shallow, at least so he hopes, but a drop of blood still traces down her wrist as he watches.

“I’m sorry—” he stammers. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No. You didn’t. That’s your problem.” The Princess wipes at her cut with one thumb. “All this and you still don’t get what this is about.” She thrusts her arms out to the sides. “I died and I’m still fine. I killed you and you’re still fine. There are no consequences for us here. We can kill each other all we want, and nothing is going to happen.”

No. No, he was right. This one does have something wrong with her, no matter how he wishes he could look past it.

His hand trembles just enough for the blade to slip from it and clatter on the floor. “But I don’t want to kill you,” he says meekly.

“Don’t think of it as killing me.” The Princess takes a couple steps forward, and Smitten scrambles a couple steps back. Their dance as such is cut short by Smitten hitting the back wall of the basement, allowing the Princess to catch up to him and pick up the blade. “It’s not like I’ll stay dead. Now get up.” She tosses the blade at his feet. It lodges, tip-first, in the stone floor.

He’s going to die here a second time. He’s going to die because he couldn’t bring himself to give the Princess what she wanted. That’s not right. He’s supposed to give the Princess what she wants, but what she wants is supposed to be freedom, and—

The Princess’s fist smashes into the wall where Smitten’s head would have been if he hadn’t thrown himself the rest of the way to the ground. As it is, some of his feathers float lazily through the air as a reminder of what might happen to the rest of him if he can’t keep this up.

He tugs the blade out of the ground as the Princess turns for another strike, and stands to face her. He’s going to die again. She’s going to kill him, and he’s going to deserve it. He’s supposed to be giving her what she wants, because she’s always right, but…

The Princess is always right. If she thinks they can’t die, if she thinks that him trying to kill her is fun, well, she probably knows better than him.

He lashes out with the blade, carving a stripe up the Princess’s arm. She swings at him, fist colliding with his shoulder. Something that probably isn’t supposed to go pop goes pop. He strikes back, this time burying his blade in the Princess’s chest, somewhere in the vicinity of her heart.

The Princess steps back, laughing, the sound wetter than it should be. She grasps the handle of the blade and tosses it back.

Smitten catches it. Then he drops it again as his injured arm decides it’s had enough of its current working conditions and falls limp. The Princess pretends not to notice as he reaches down to pick it back up.

“See? Isn’t this so much more fun than talking?” the Princess asks once they’re face-to-face again.

“I suppose,” Smitten says, unable to get another word out as the Princess launches herself towards him.

He lashes out with the blade again and again, barely deflecting each of her attacks with stripes of red carved across her arms. The Princess’s fists connect as often as not—there’s a crunch as she lands a blow on his ribcage, then a snap as his already-injured arm is well and fully put out of commission, then a squelch that was probably some crucial organ.

He’s going to die here. That’s fine. The Princess said it would be fine.

She steps back as though meaning for her next punch to be her last. “Are you sure you’re really trying to kill me?” she taunts. “You’re not just trying to postpone your own death?”

Smitten tries to answer, to say, No, of course not, I would never dare to imagine going against your wishes, but something is very, very broken in the parts of him in charge of speaking, and all he manages to do is inhale blood.

The Princess seems to notice. “I’d say you’ve only got a few seconds left this time around. Why don’t you make them count?” She holds out her arms. “Go on. Stab me—unless your heart isn’t in it.”

My heart… is always… in everything. Smitten raises the blade with his remaining arm, steadying it as much as he can. I hope this makes you happy. He brings it down with as much force as he can muster, right over her heart.

Then he falls, and none of his limbs opt to catch him.

The Princess continues to stand over him, unfazed even by the blade in her heart. Assuming it even made it to her heart.

Her sitting down beside him is the last thing he sees as his vision fades to a sort of reddish black. “Were you even trying to kill me?” she asks, followed by, “No. You were.” There’s a sound like she’s leaning back against the basement wall. “You’re no good at this. Even if you come back with the passion you had at the end, you still won’t be able to kill me.”

He says nothing, of course. He’s not sure he can even fully understand what she’s saying.

“You’re not meant to be here,” she continues. “If you were meant to be here, you’d be meant to fight me. And you’re obviously not meant to fight anyone.” Her hand lands on his neck, fingers pressing into his feathers as though searching for something. A pulse? Does he still have one of those? “Is there someone else out there who’s meant to be here? Is that what this is?”

If she keeps talking after that, Smitten doesn’t hear any of it. Everything goes dark—darker than it already is—and he dies.

He shoots to his feet before he can take stock of the cabin he’s in. Every piece of it lines up with how it looked the last time, anyway—same pale stone walls, same heavy double doors, same blade on the same metal altar. He grabs the blade without even thinking.

He needs to go back downstairs and apologize. He failed to live up to her wishes. Should he try to make it up to her? Give her the fight she deserves? He did make a promise to her. Or maybe he just thought it. Or thought he thought it. The latter half of the last go-around is a bit fuzzy again.

By the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he’s made up his mind. He raises the blade and charges towards the Princess—

—And she catches it before he can close the distance, tip of the blade sinking into the palm of her hand. She twists her wrist, and Smitten’s grip breaks before the blade can wrench free.

“Does your brain just stop working after you’ve been beat up enough?” she asks, tugging the blade out of her hand. There’s a visible hole in the back of it where the tip broke through the other side. “I told you, we’re done here. I’m going to find someone whose heart is actually in this.”

Smitten sputters, still in the process of grasping that the blade is no longer in his hand. “My heart is in this! It would be impossible for me to not put my entire heart into anything I endeavor to accomplish!”

“So I didn’t just disarm you before you could land a hit on me?” The Princess glances at the hole in her hand before tugging on the chains once more. They splinter just as easily this time as they did the previous two. “You’re not cut out for this, loverboy. Stick to writing poetry or whatever it is you’re supposed to do.”

“I can fight!” Smitten follows close behind the Princess as she strides up the stairs. She ducks a little to avoid hitting her horns on the doorway. “If you’ll allow me another chance, I can assure you I will not let you down a third time.”

The Princess glances over her shoulder. “You don’t actually want that.”

“I do! If a fight is what you want, I will gladly—”

She tosses the blade to him, and he fumbles the blood-slicked point of it, barely managing to keep his grip. “You’re just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear. And it is. Just not from someone who’s lying.”

Smitten extracts his hands from the blade, looking around in vain for something to wipe his hands on that isn’t his own cape. He settles for smearing the excess blood across the cabin wall. “I would never lie to you.”

“Oh?” the Princess asks, eyes glinting. “If you’re so honest, then tell me: Was it fun?”

Of course it was fun. The Princess said it was, and it clearly was for her, and anything that makes the Princess happy is good enough for him. Right?

“I’ve… had more enjoyable experiences,” he finally admits.

She nods and turns her attention to wrenching the outer door open. It’s not as heavy-seeming as the ones to the basement, but maybe that’s just because she’s so much larger than him. It’s not as though he ever tried to open it himself. “There’s more of you, right?” she asks.

“Yes. Several.”

“Then there’s someone out there who doesn’t have to lie when he says he gets it.” The Princess steps back from the door. “Let’s go find him already.”

Smitten nods. “Certainly. Say, before we leave, you wouldn’t happen to have a name?”

She looks over her shoulder. “Adversary. You?”

“Smitten. It’s been a pleasure meeting you.”

The Adversary scoffs. “Suits you. Come on.”

They don’t get more than a step into the outside world before freezing again.

Everything is… meat. The cabin sits atop a hill of smooth skin that collapses into fleshy lumps of meat at its base, and the path, instead of packed dirt or smooth stones, looks more like the bones of a spine. In place of trees, clawed fingers reach from the ground, meat bared to the world and webs of translucent meat strung between their knobby bones. Smitten can’t resist glancing at his own hands and noting the similarity.

“So. Meat,” the Adversary begins. “Not normal.”

“No,” Smitten agrees. “Meat is most certainly not normal.”

The Adversary takes a few steps forward, hooves sinking into the meat with an array of smushes and slushes and squishes and sounds that can scarcely be put into writing. Smitten follows suit.

He can feel the meat between his toes. Also sticking to the bottoms of his feet, and wrapping above his feet. It’s very squishy.

There’s little reprieve from the meat. If he tries to pull his attention away from the sensations beneath his feet, there’s the sound to worry about. If he ignores the sound, there’s the smell of blood filling the air. And that’s to say nothing of the sight—the only place he can look without finding meat is the back of the Adversary’s head.

At least his focus on her means he notices when she suddenly stops walking, and he’s saved the embarrassment of crashing into her. He still almost does, losing his footing on the meat for a second before she catches him.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

She points across the meat. “That’s another one of you, right?”

Smitten follows her arm to the horizon. She’s right. Between a pair of meat hands is a figure wearing a long, black cloak, veil hiding his face at this distance. Next to him is a smaller figure, with a dress and a tail flicking behind her.

He can’t be sure about the second figure, but he certainly recognizes the first.

The two figures pause, clearly having noticed them at the same time. The shorter one turns to the taller as though saying something, but Smitten has no intention of giving them enough time for him to be the one to approach.

He strides across the meat, for once able to ignore every sensory detail of the stuff, and soon comes face-to-face with the worst one of the bunch.

Cold tilts his head to one side. “Oh. You’ve escaped. Good job.”

Leading with sarcasm, is he? Smitten has no intention of allowing him to have his way. He grips the front of Cold’s cloak and shoves him against the nearest meat hand. “I’m more surprised you didn’t leave your Princess rotting in the basement,” he growls. “Are you just toying with her? Does she know what sort of monster you really are?”

The Princess that was with Cold glances between him and Smitten, brow furrowed as though trying to figure out what to say.

“Ha! And here I thought you weren’t a fighter.” The Adversary seems to have no such issues. “Looks like there’s one person you’re supposed to fight.” She steps up behind him with a squelsh—she’s so tall she doesn’t have to strain to get a good look at Cold’s face. “Don’t know if it’s the same way for him, though.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Cold levels his gaze with Smitten’s, still not bothering to struggle against him. “If he actually followed through on his promises, I might be interested in seeing them play out.”

Smitten tightens his grip. “I am no liar. You would do well to mark what I say—I will drag you into the depths of my misery and leave you there to drown.”

“Been there. Done that.”

The other Princess seems to have finally snapped. “Would one of you shut up and explain what you’re talking about?”

Cold shrugs. “It’s not that interesting.”

“Not that interesting?” Smitten shoves him further into the meat with a wet smeesh. “You murdered my true love in cold blood. And so I took my revenge.”

“Was that really intended to be revenge? I thought it was just an attempt at reuniting with your ‘true love.’ Did you think I would mind being stabbed?”

Has he no limit to his insults? “Perhaps I hoped it would snap you into something capable of sympathy.”

The Princess sighs. “We get it. His brain is broken. Can you cut it out now so we can go somewhere with less meat?”

Fine. In the interest of the Princess being allowed to go somewhere with less meat, Smitten releases his grip on Cold’s cloak. Cold remains suspended on the meat hand for a moment, making no move to extract himself, before he peels off its surface with a long, drawn out squueeemch and lands on his knees with a pair of squishes.

“Sticky,” he observes, then stands (with a pair of ssspops) and turns back to the meat hand. “I wonder—”

“Nope! Not going through this again!” The other Princess grabs Cold by the arms and yanks him away from the meat hand. “Let’s go! We’re leaving!”

The Princess leads the procession, dragging Cold behind her despite his weak protests (“One couldn’t kill me, could it?”). Smitten follows close behind.

“If I may, could you tell me your name?” he asks the Princess. “My own is Smitten, and this—” he indicates the Adversary, who is currently trailing at the back of the pack— “is the Adversary.”

“We’re doing names now?” The Princess wrinkles her nose. “Witch is fine.”

Is she… surprised he’s asking for her name? No, of course she is. Of course Cold would never extend such a courtesy. “I’m guessing he hasn’t bothered to make a proper introduction? Allow me to correct such a grave error. This is—”

“I’m Cold,” says Cold.

The Witch turns to stare at him. “Really? In that cloak?”

“He means it as his name,” Smitten explains. “Though I’m not surprised he didn’t bother to adequately clarify.”

Before any arguments can start up again, the Adversary cuts in. “Do you two know where we’re going?”

The Witch shrugs. “Not really. We were following a river, but then it started to look like blood and he—” she jerks her thumb in Cold’s direction— “started asking me how I thought it’d taste, so I dragged him away from it. Now we’re just heading anywhere that isn’t made of meat. Unless you have a better idea?”

“No. Anywhere that isn’t meat is fine. Besides, now we know there really are other people out there.” Smitten hazards a glance back to see that the Adversary’s face has split into a sharp-toothed grin. “Which means there’s someone out there I can fight.”

The Witch whirls around so sharply Smitten fears she may have given herself whiplash. “What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Smitten tunes out the remainder of the discussion. He’s already heard it all. He doesn’t need a second reminder.

#slay the princess #outside context problem #voice of the smitten #the adversary #and surprise guests #stp fanfic

46 notes · View notes

vi-trying-to-survive · 1 year

Text

Undoubtedly

Anthony Lockwood x f!Reader

Warnings: Some fluff and angst ;) 💖💖💖 Also mentions of death :’)

Summary: After leaving Lockwood and Co, Y/N comes back for one last mission at his request. That doesn’t exactly work out the way she intended when he comes running to save her, like always.

A/N: Hi guys !! 💖💖💖 Part 2 is here !! :D 💖💖💖 I’m sorry it took longer than expected :’) 💖💖💖 Pls forgive me :’) 💖💖💖 I just started classes :’) 💖💖💖 Also I hope you like it !! 💖💖💖

P1: Anyone But You

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

The door to the basement swung open with a shrill creak. He held a lantern to the steps going down, bending to his knees. She peered over his shoulder. They were worn with cracks and splinters covering their expanse, some even had bluish-black patches on them. Her nose wrinkled at the musty scent. She grimaced at the thought of going in there, but they do say it’s bad to linger at the doorway. Shrugging her shoulder, she made to move past him, but he grabbed her wrist, holding her back, "Careful, those steps look old".

She glared at him, wrenching herself from his grip, "I can walk up a flight of stairs myself".

"Plus I'm sure they're fine", she placed a foot cautiously on the plank. It squeaked under her weight, but held up. She gave him a pointed look, before putting her other foot down. It groaned awfully, and a crack began to form at the edge growing larger in seconds, and soon the whole piece was caving in on her. She yelped, grasping desperately around her, but shut her eyes feeling a pull at her waist.

She opened them, finding herself wrapped in his arms. He smirked at her, "You were saying ?".

A heat rose to her face, she turned away. He looked so smug, she hated when this happened. "I-", she was at a loss for words. Yet another moment to boost his ego, which was definitely unnecessary.

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

"So, how have things been ?", he crossed his arms behind his back. They had wandered into something that they assumed was the old family room, though it’s carpet held a rather suspicious looking stain, that made her wonder otherwise.

She bit her lip, continuing to inspect the peeling, yellowed wallpaper, "It- It's good".

"Really ?", he raised a brow.

She frowned at his sarcastic tone, "I mean I haven't almost died in 3 months". Yes, she was safe but that also meant life had become mundane. Still, his tone made her grip on her rapier handle tighten.

"Yes, well-", he rubbed his brows.

She spun around, a fist clenched at her side, "What ?". Who was he to question her decision ? She had tried to explain it to him, but he never wanted to listen, so why would she do it now.

"Are you happy?", he sighed, bringing his hands to her face.

She found it hard to concentrate, mainly because he made it almost impossible to avoid his gaze. She swallowed painfully, "I- Yes, yes I- Of course". It’s not that she was unhappy, she was in an odd place, an in between of sorts. A part of her always longed to return to Portland Row, return to him, but it was not as simple as it was drawn out to be, or maybe it was. It didn’t matter though, she wouldn’t be the cause of his death.

"Yes, but-", his expression was so soft, like he was searching for something.She yearned to lean into his touch, to pull him closer and whisper apologies, promising to come back.

She pulled herself away from his touch, "No, don't go there, I told you why I had to leave". Her eyes burned with tears threatening to roll over, and her heart pounded so hard that it almost burst from her chest. She blinked them back, it would only make everything worse.

"And I told you its ridiculous", he sighed, running a hand down his face.

She scowled, "See this is exactly why I didn't want to come back".

“What do you mean ?”, he winced.

She took a step towards him, crossing her arms, practically glowering, "You're not listening to me".

"Because you never listened to me, you just left in the night", he moved closer to her, the vein in his neck pulsed. They were just centimetres apart, his dark eyes fixed on her. Why did he have to make it so hard to focus ? With his scent flooding her sense and that stupidly handsome face.

She glared back at him, "That was so hard for me to do".

"And it was hard for me too", he grimaced. The room was suddenly quiet, the echoes of their voices across the walls no longer audible. The disdain spread through her, draining all her energy, she was cold and her muscles ached. She chanced a glimpse at him, he looked just as awful as her. All she wanted to do was curl up into a ball, but she pressed her lips together and pushed past him into the hallway.

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

"This room is clear", she held her rapier steady, tilting her head back to the open door that lead to the hallway. The room remained silent, not even an okay or a grunt of acknowledgement. They weren't exactly on talking terms but this was a bit much. She knew she had to apologise, but so did he, and this wasn't exactly helping the situation.

She groaned and made her way into the hallway, peering around, "Lockwood ? Hey ? Oh that's really mature".

There was a glow on the ground, just outside the door of one of the rooms. She bit her lip, "Lockwood ?". There was an edge to her voice, the malaise was already setting in, a hand ghosted the salt-bombs in her belt. Her eyes trained the inside of the room cautiously, as she stood by the rails of the banister. The sight made her bring a hand to her lips, the shape looked enough like him, but it couldn't be. It wasn't right. How had it happened ? No, no, no, she was careful this time.

She moved closer, just skirting the edge of the doorway. The figure shuddered and turned as the floor squeaked under her movement. Her throat went dry, it was him. He was still in his coat, with his hair messy, but it hung limply on his shoulders, his skin was pale, shiny with sweat and his dark eyes were hollow. As her eyes moved lower, she felt as though she had been stabbed through the heart. His white shirt was stained, a deep red patch spreading at his stomach. She thought they had stopped the bleeding, the wound had healed he told her.

He reached an arm to her, palms dripping the same crimson colour. Her vision began to blur as tears fell, making her lips taste salty. She rubbed at them carelessly, leaving streaks of eyeliner across her face. As he moved closer to her, the room began to crumble away. All she could see was him, and he was all she wanted to see. "Come here", he almost whispered, with his velvety voice. Who was she to deny him that ? He smiled, the fear flowed away from her shoulders, and she took her first step. Though she didn't get very far, before someone roughly grabbed her arm.

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

"Why do you always have to be so stupid and reckless", she scowled, throwing her bags on the street haphazardly.

He shoved a finger at her chest, "I saved your life". She wondered how they had ended up here, but she very well knew. It was her fault, she could admit that. What infuriated her was that once again, she had let him risk his life for hers. It probably wasn't fair that she was yelling at him, he was the reason she wasn't cold and dead, but ironically enough she could live with that, as long as he was safe.

She smacked him across his chest, "And almost lost yours in the process". It was only then that she realised how close they were. She had to tilt her head up to glare at him properly. He remained silent, his dark eyes staring hers down, but she refused to relent. Still, it didn’t stop her breath for catching in her throat and she cursed herself for it.

"You are so persistent", he rolled his eyes, before connecting his lips to hers. His calloused hands, wrapped around her waist, pressing her against him. He held her roughly, backing her up till her back hit the ghost-lamp. The bright light only highlighted the sharp edges of his features, as he moved so fervently like he was gasping for air. The sudden heat from his skin against hers surprised her, but she soon melted into him, kissing back with the same desperation, threading her fingers through his silky hair. The taste of honey and toast on her tongue was addictive, she grew breathless, but couldn’t wrench herself away from him. She chased his lips for more, he gladly obliged.

Breaking the kiss, he tucked his head into her neck, placing soft kisses along her jaw. "So I take it this means you're coming back", he grinned.

She laughed, "Undoubtedly".

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

Tags: @galactidiot

205 notes · View notes

atsadi-shenanigans · 24 days

Text

Feeding Alligators 43 - The Proposition

Astarion makes a proposition.

Warning: that shitty feeling when you're demisexual (with purity culture trauma) and someone you thought of as a friend propositions you with sex and you realize, in a survival situation, your choices are sex, or losing this friend and possible support. There's a happy ending eventually, but both of these people have serious issues.

On AO3.

“That went well,” Astarion says. He sits nearby on the unshattered stairs leading to the front door, hair dripping from the quick wash he’d given himself.

The air stinks of smoke and char and some nauseating, roast meat reek you refuse to think about. Everybody calmed down (Karlach) and most got their wounds treated. Shadowheart had conjured up a rain to put out a fire (with a fucking arrow in her hand), leaving the tollhouse a fire-gutted wreck. Fucker ain’t structurally sound in the slightest; you’ll ask Gale to thunderwave it before y’all leave to make sure no unsuspecting travelers try to take shelter and get crushed when the roof finally caves in.

Literally everybody got hurt except you. Lae’zel tore ligaments in her knee. Gale’s hands and half his face are mildly burned. Shadowheart actually got hit in the face with shrapnel in addition to the aforementioned arrow-through-the-hand. And Wyll is gashed down his side to his ribs.

Karlach is still burning too hot to be near anybody—she sits over in the road with her teddy bear.

And Astarion, who doesn’t need to breathe, inhaled smoke right after Harvey Dent gashed his head. You gave him a healing potion to help his lungs—he don’t need air to live, but he does need it to talk—because Shadowheart is triaging the magic she got left.

“They’re dead and we’re not, darling, and that is what matters,” Astarion says. He wipes his blades down again, having already inspected his bow (and found no damage).

He’s right. Y’all did what y’all had to. Karlach don’t got hunters on her tail no more, and none of the injuries are more than y’all’s resources can handle.

Except you are completely fine and none of the others are.

Astarion finishes up and slips his daggers back into the sheathes on his belt.

“We’re probably staying here for the night, huh?” you say.

“I can’t imagine the others will want to go far.” He looks to the rotting carcasses. “But I also don’t anticipate anyone, even the gith, wanting to linger amongst all this.”

You nod. You can help set up camp. That can be your contribution; you should really ask Gale for cooking lessons. Nobody fucks with the camp cook.

“Well, my dear,” Astarion says. “Shall we see what items might be left in that ruin? I’m rather sure I saw a basement.”

Bringing back presents also boosts morale.

“We probably shouldn’t go alone,” you say, and completely miss his smile turn sour. “Hey Karlach! You wanna see if they got shit in the basement?”

In the road, Karlach perks up. Woman has such golden retriever vibes.

***

Karlach ends up taking an ax to the charred hatch cover that does, indeed, lead to a basement. And then to the big doors Astarion can’t jimmy open—you let him search the ripe body y’all find down there. Must’ve been the toll collector. You got a sneaking feeling it wasn’t them dead gnolls outside that got him. Might be the way his gut is cleaved damn near in two, like some Harvey Dent motherfucker and his overcompensation sword nailed the guy.

Most of the boxes in that first room are empty, save some salvageable rags, which you stuff into your bag like there’s gonna be a shortage (you got maybe six or seven days until shark week, you suspect). Find a couple of broken weapons, a pair of frayed sandals, and not much else. But as you start into the second room, stepping over splintered wood, Astarion grabs your elbow.

“Careful darling,” he says. “There are traps about. Stay next to me, hmm?”

Circular grates dot the floor. A lot of them.

“Can you disarm these?” you say.

“Oh, I got it,” Karlach says, flexing her biceps unnecessarily (but not unappreciated). She skirts the first one, hefts up a heavy looking jar that comes up to your ribcage, and sets it over the grate. “There. Fucker can’t spew if it’s blocked, yeah?”

“Indeed,” Astarion says. “Why don’t you be a dear and go handle the others?”

“Aww, what’s a matter, Fangs?” she says, and if he were a cat, his ears would be plastered to his skull. “Can’t do a bit of heavy lifting?”

“I’d rather not dirty my hands, if it’s all the same to you,” he says, despite the fact that 1. he's wearing gloves and 2. he's still got dried blood crusted in the creases down the front of his armor.

Karlach looks at him for a second, and the both of them make weird facial expressions. Then she grins. And there’s something odd in that grin. And in the way she glances over to you.

“Gotcha,” she says. And saunters off to find more huge-ass pottery.

You start rummaging through the first box you see. Old clothes. Not moldy or covered in mildew or crusted bodily fluids, so into the pack they go. Move on to the next.

It’s quiet as you work. Karlach shuffles over to the corner, secures that vent, and starts rummaging herself.

Two boxes later and Astarion sighs. You look up, find him about where you left him, but leaning on a shelf with an arched brow.

He…hasn’t been looting?

“You alright?” you say. He don’t look injured. His arms are folded and you catch the barest flicker as he apparently resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Then he pastes on the smarm again. “I just wanted to take a moment to congratulate you. That was quite the plan, back there. Very effective.”

“Uh huh.”

He’s angling for something. And he seems to know that you know, and he leans into it. “Are all your plans going to be so vicious?”

“I’m not…it’s not on purpose. I’m not trying to cause…mayhem.”

“And yet you’re rather good at it.”

It’s still not a comfortable thought, that part of you. It’s keeping your ass alive, but if (when) you get home, you ain’t sure you’ll be able to cram it back into the box you took it out of.

“I don’t know how to fight and I can’t use magic,” you say. “If you don’t hit hard and hit first, you give them a chance to hit back and you get your ass handed to you. We cannot afford that.”

But no disgust wrinkles his face. No frown draws his brows together the way most people in this situation would.

“You know, my dear, some people might call that cowardice,” he says.

This time you get to roll your eyes. “Bet you those people die young.”

He barks out a laugh. Doesn’t seem to mean to, but his eyes are wide and sparkling in the dim torchlight. Karlach pauses her rummaging, and then begins again in earnest.

“I like you,” Astarion says. “It’s refreshing to talk to someone with a modicum of sense, for a change.”

Insulting the entire rest of the group. There’s a tactic that should work to do…whatever he’s trying to do here.

“Neat,” you drawl, using that extra second to try to get a fucking read on him.

“Honestly,” he says, and his voice drops. “I’m beginning to like the whole package. And you clearly like me, too, so…?”

You stare. After a moment, you realize he’s waiting for a response and you’re just standing there. You should probably put on a facial expression. You’re doing the blank face thing again and that tends to piss people off (you look like an idiot, you stupid girl, ohh I’m a stoic Indian hey-ya-huh-huh). You should really stop. You should stop right now.

You can’t stop.

“…so?” you finally manage.

“Come now,” Astarion says, expression dripping smarm. “Don’t be coy. Your body’s already given you away.”

What in the fuck is he talking about? What is this? The man flirts literally more than he breathes. He’s fucking with you, somehow, trying to get a reaction. You’re just not sure which one.

But his eyes widen in what really looks like a genuine smile. No malicious smirk, no smug, just…a man smiling at you.

“I could feel it, you know. As I was getting…” He steps towards you and you ain’t sure when he got that close. His gloved fingertips brush down your neck where he bit you, so featherlight, you ain’t even sure he actually touches you. “Getting lost in your neck. Your little shakes of excitement. You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”

He is entirely too close. You can smell iron on his breath. That strange, almost electric charge that hugs his skin crackles against yours.

“Um,” you say.

He was this close when he bit you. His soft lips on your neck. His fucking tongue. And the noises he made slurping on your wrist. You ain’t never heard those kinds of noises outta someone before.

It’s his spit. It’s that memory effected by his goddamn vampire spit. Of course you had a physical reaction. That was normal.

But you barely know the man and having a chemically induced reaction like that don’t mean you want what you think he’s alluding to.

“I…I was trying to help, is all,” you say.

Thank fuck he steps back. Only to throw out his arms to show himself off. “And look how well it’s worked. I’ve never felt better, all thanks to you. So let me repay you for your noble sacrifice.”

Is it just you, or does his voice take on Wyll’s cadence over that last bit? (Yes, much better. Analyze that and not the situation unfolding here. So much better.)

But then he leans in again, lids all heavy.

“We could take an evening to ourselves,” he says, voice low and…and melty. “Get away from camp—get some privacy. I know somewhere quiet. Somewhere…intimate. Somewhere we can indulge in each other.”

He waits. You stare. Cause it sounds like he’s suggesting…?

He sighs. “And I do mean sex, to be clear.”

…no. No. He’s not. He can’t be. It ain’t the first time somebody joked like that with you (against you, using you as a prop to make their buddies laugh). But he don’t got no audience to play to. And he ain’t never took the joking this far. The others wouldn’t find that funny, would they? You want to look over to Karlach—suspiciously loud in her searching—but don’t think you can break his eye contact.

“You really don’t owe me for that,” you say. “I’d do it for anybody.”

He lets out that soft, high giggle. “But you didn’t do it for just anyone, darling. You did it for me. And that’s hardly the only reason. It’s more of an excuse, if anything. Assuming…you want that too, of course?”

Your chance to get the fuck out of this. But then he tilts his head down and what you suspect might be actual lust (might have been this whole time, oh god, you didn’t see, you never see until it’s too late, until it’s printed on a big, plastic sign some high school kid twirls over his head outside a roadside sandwich shop).

“But we both know you do,” he purrs.

Oh god. Oh sweet jesus.

You been friendly. You shoulda known better. People—men especially—always take it wrong. Why do they always take it wrong. Why is he targeting you for—

Oh.

Yes. That makes sense, don’t it.

A pile of lovers. That’s what he’d told Shadowheart he had. Man likes sex. Nothing wrong with that, but now he’s stuck out here with all y’all and who is the easiest target? Who has no backup? It’s the same reason he picked you to bite in the first place. You look as you do, so he probably pegged you from day one as the most desperate. The easiest prey. He wants a quick, no-strings lay, and who better than the fat girl with no connections to anybody?

You can say no. Logically, you know this. You don’t think he’s the type to hurt you for refusing (none of them ever seem like they would in all those crime stories, do they?). And Karlach stands right there. You’ve refused people before (it’s all you ever done).

But that was back home. You had a stable job and a couple of hundred bucks in a savings account and your own, one-bedroom apartment. You could stand on your own, two feet back then. Back there. If anybody tried to give you shit, you could call dad’s side or Sasha (who carried a baseball bat in the trunk of her car).

Here?

You’ll die without Gale’s blood potion—and it needs all of them to make. You can’t even ask for help without the dirt potion. You got a brainworm, and your best chance of not turning into a space monster is a band of people you keep leading into danger while you sit your fat ass in the background and take not a single fucking scratch.

What happens when you make a bad call? What happens when they get sick of covering for you? Coddling you? You are wholly dependent on their good will for food and a…and a fucking allowance.

You been trying not to think of that for a week. Of just how defenseless you are. How you worked so hard, and yet you are right back where you started, poor and helpless and vulnerable and staring down the barrel of fucking someone you don’t know.

Except you ain’t some twenty-year-old kid this time. Now you know what’s happening to you. Your body is on the market, and there’s no Sasha to swoop in with her pickup truck and whisk you away into the night.

“You’re…you’re not joking?” you rasp, throat drier than a salt flat.

Astarion blinks. “Darling, I would never about this.”

He wants to fuck you. Whatever reasoning (easiest prey, the lamed deer) he actually wants to fuck you.

You can’t feel your hands.

You’re not…possessive of your “virginity.” It ain’t some commodity (Mother). You know, intellectually, it’s an activity just like any other: riding in a hot air balloon, scuba diving, eating one of them lollipops with a bug inside (crickets actually don’t taste too bad, once you get over the leg barbs dragging on your tongue). You ain’t opposed to trying sex sometime.

It’s just…you barely know this man. You barely know any of them.

God, you’re being fucking precious. It’s just sex. People have sex all the time. They been having sex they weren’t enthusiastic about for thousands and thousands of years and they all survived just fine. This ain’t no different. And you can use this, right? Forge a…a…

(Relationship, and your stomach clenches.)

An alliance with him. That’s just good interpersonal insurance, right? He’s damn good with those knives. He’s even pretty—not that that part really matters to you; it’s the same category as “his shirt is white” and “his hair is white” and “his face is symmetrical and he’s got fangs.” Just an observation.

He watches you. Waiting. He expects an answer. He expects a yes. Possibly a gushing “oh me oh my, lowering yourself to offer me??”

It probably won’t be bad? Somebody with a pile of lovers in the city has to know what he’s doing? Orgasms feel great and other people really like sex. It’s just an activity. You were probably gonna do it at some point, anyway. This is just sooner than you anticipated. It probably won’t even last all that long, right?

It’s the smart move.

“I, um, yeah,” you say and now you can’t feel your face.

“Wonderful,” Astarion says, lighting up. “Once we have a chance, I promise you a night of passion you’ll never forget.”

You certainly won’t be forgetting your first time, you’re sure.

You can’t throw up on then man’s shoes. That would be the height of rudeness. God, you’re such a mess. Your body is wigging out for no reason. It’s not that big of a deal; there’s no reason you should be this light-headed.

“Oi! You two!” Karlach pops her head out of an aisle. “Think I found a secret door!”

Oh thank fuck. You want to hug Karlach. Swoon into her arms. Except she’s still on fire and you just told Astarion you’d have sex with him.

Astarion lifts his eyebrows and makes an intrigued noise. He starts past you, but pauses and leans in to whisper, “See you later, lover.”

Your heart lurches. It’s not a good feeling. The pit in your stomach only grows when Karlach—behind Astarion’s back—catches your eye and gives you a grin and two thumbs up.

She knows. Oh sweet christ.

You smile back and hope it doesn’t look as weak as it feels.

***

Notes:

Next chapter will contain trigger warnings. Saturday's update: Dance with the Devil in the Pale Moonlight

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #astarion fic #bg3 fic #astarion x tav #tavstarion #purity culture trauma #demisexual trauma #demisezual tav #plus size tav #the sadness arc #angst with a happy ending

16 notes · View notes

sunflowergirl522 · 1 year

Text

Matching Butterflies

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie goes to get his new tattoo and you finally cave and agree to let him give you one.

Word Count: 2504

Eddie Masterlist

“Why are we at Reefer Rick's place? Eddie, did you just bring me on a drug deal?” Dustin asks as he follows Eddie out of his van.

“God, I don’t take twerps like you to deals. It’s bad for business.” Eddie steals Dustin's hat and messes up his hair. “You said you wanted to come with me when I got my next tat, so here we are.” He gestures with his hands towards the house while his younger friend steals his hat back.

“Reefer Rick is still in jail though isn’t he?”

“Yeah, his cousins been staying here for the past like two years or something now. She’s the one who has done all of them.” Eddie smiles at the thought of his artist. “She was out of town when all the craziness was going on though. I’ve only seen her a few times since she got back but she penned me into her schedule for this.” He chuckles at the inside joke between the two of you. You were always telling him you’d try to pen him in when he wanted to hangout after he walked in on you giving someone a sternum tattoo. You had yelled something about office hours and kicked him out swiftly covering the girl's tits before he could get a good look at them.

“You’re not gonna knock or anything?” Dustin’s eyes are wide as Eddie just opens the door.

“She wouldn’t answer it anyway. You hear that?” He’s talking about the muffled music they can hear coming from the basement. “You can barely hear yourself think when she plays music as she works.”

You’re finishing up a thigh tattoo you’re giving yourself when you hear the basement door open. Your head continues to bob up and down to the Motley Crue song as you yell for Eddie to come on down. All you have to do is finish up the shading of the skull the fairy is holding and you’ll be able to work on your favorite client.

“Hey Eds, I’ll be right with you.”

“Don’t wanna rush perfection. What’re you giving yourself this time?” He sits close to you on the bench after turning your music down a bit and takes a look trying to lean over your body without knocking into you. The smell of his cologne and a faint hint of smoke he always seems to have on him is almost enough to distract you from the task at hand.

“Another fairy, this time holding a devil skull.” He lets out a low whistle at seeing it. “I’m almost done with it and then we can get started on yours.” You still haven’t looked up from your work so you have yet to notice the kid in the room.

Dustin watches on as Eddie watches you work. He also tries not to stare too much at your bare thighs since your skirt is bunched up at the top of them. As much as he’s curious about the ink etched into your skin there he’s not sure he’s allowed to look. It’s easy not to look though, it’s much more entertaining to watch the look on Eddie’s face as he tries to gain just a glance in his direction from you. He had his suspicions with how he had talked about you before coming in but with how Eddie’s looking at you now, Dustin knows that his friend is a hundred percent into you.

“Alright, can you hand me the saran wrap? I’ll wrap this up and then show you what I came up with for your next one.” You finally look away from your work as you wipe ink and blood away and smile at Eddie.

“Course Princess.” As he gets up and walks over to the table you have the wrap sitting on you notice the younger kid in the basement with you.

“Oh, hi who are you?”

“Y/n this is Dustin, Dustin this is the tattoo master herself Y/n.” Your face heats up at Eddie’s praise and how his fingers wrap around your shoulder when he introduces you after handing you the wrap.

“I’m not really a master, Eddie just likes to say that to flatter me. He thinks it’ll give him a discount on his tats even though he already gets a giant one for being my best friend.” Eddie barely has time to look away from watching you wrap the piece you cut off around your thigh when you look back up at him.

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. So why’d he bring you along with him this time, do you want one too?” The kid looked to be about fifteen, it was close enough to your minimum age of sixteen that you’d give him one if he wanted you to.

“Oh, I was just curious about the whole process. I thought we’d end up in a shop instead of a basement though.”

“Yeah, I don’t actually have a license or anything. I started tattooing for fun and then people started asking me to give them one and offered to pay me. So now I run an underground shop from my cousin's basement. I’m not sure it’s entirely legal but I haven’t gotten in trouble yet.” As you speak you make your way over to your desk to find the notebook you drew the design in for Eddie. “Here Eds, what do you think?” You toss the notebook onto the bench in front of him while you start to get your ink and stuff ready.

Eddie’s eyes widen when he sees what you’ve drawn for him. In the notebook is a drawing of a coffin with details in the word to show it being worn down. You had designed him a tattoo of an actual corroded coffin in honor of his band.

“Y/n this is amazing! Dustin, come look at this.” You smile at his praise while grabbing the stencil of it you had printed out earlier in the day.

“Where do you want it?”

“My bicep, I was feeling like this arm was a little bare.” Eddie sits on the bench taking his jacket off and rolling the sleeve of his Metallica shirt up his shoulder. You nod, pulling up your chair and starting the process of getting his arm ready for you to start.

As you start to work on it you answer whatever questions Dustin has and tell him about how when you were younger you basically grew up in a tattoo shop due to your uncle owning one. The first tattoo you gave yourself was actually with a sewing needle and pen ink when you were about nine years old and it was a small heart that faded in a few months. Your mom had been horrified when she found you doing it and wanted to find you a different babysitter but your uncle convinced her he would talk to you about how bad that was. And he did but it was more about how you should’ve done it instead so it would be safer, he was proud of you for how well it had turned out. By the age of thirteen you had given him a few tattoos, he had offered himself up for you to practice on after you got used to practicing on fruit, and you had even designed some tats for his clients. By fifteen you were working at the shop as a receptionist and giving yourself some tats. You gave your first tattoo to someone else at seventeen after one of your friends started telling people you gave yours to yourself.

Eddie then chimed in to tell Dustin about how the two of you met when you were eighteen and he was nineteen after Rick told him not to go to some fancy tattoo artist who’s gonna cost a shit ton and instead set him up with you. You were getting ready to move into Rick's basement, since you had graduated and finally gotten a car, and were packing up your stuff when they showed up. Rick introduced the two of you and you let Eddie look through the photo album of your work while you made Rick help you pack the rest of your shit since he was there. Eddie picked bats to be his first tattoo and as soon as you had the basement set up you gave them to him. The two of you found things you had in common and the rest is history.

“Eddie’s been bothering me ever since. I’ve barely had a moment of peace, when he’s not busy with other plans he’s normally here. I have customers who’ve gotten used to him being around and when he’s not here they ask about him.”

“So when you’re not home and I can’t get a hold of you you’re here?”

“Yeah probably.” Eddie shrugs, turning his attention over to Dustin. “This is a good second place to look if you need me.”

“Oh by the way, Eds I might be out of town again next week.”

“What, why?” Dustin watches as the smile fades from Eddie’s face, something you don’t notice because you’re too focused on doing the tat.

“I wanna get butterflies on my collarbone and I can’t do them myself so I think I’ll have my uncle do them.”

“But you just got back from visiting him and your mom a few months ago. I’ve barely seen you since you got back because of having to clear my name and shit.”

“I have to have someone else do it Eddie, it’d be too awkward to do it myself and he’s the only other person I’d let do it.”

“What if you finally let me give you one?” You glance up at him for a second, it’s not too bad of an idea. And he’s been asking you about it for a while.

“I don’t know Eds.”

“I’ll design it and I’ll even give it to myself before giving it to you so you know that I know what I’m doing.” You stop tattooing him to wipe his skin down and when you glance at him there’s a sort of excitement behind his eyes that you have when you get really into a certain piece of work.

“Okay fine, but if you don’t know what you’re doing I’m leaving. Don’t you dare start fist pumping, I'm almost done with this.”

Eddie drew up a design for your tat that same night too excited to wait. The next couple of days you had him practice on fruit the same way you did before deciding he could finally do it on himself. Each time you asked him to see what he came up with he said it was a surprise. You weren’t nervous about it being bad, Eddie was a great artist and you’d be lucky to have his work on you, you’re just a curious creature by nature. Eddie even makes sure you’re working on someone elses tattoo when he starts doing it on himself to make sure you wouldn’t be able to sneak a peek at it.

When you do see it you’re speechless. On the inside of Eddie’s left arm are two twin butterflies with stars and sparkles around them.

“Do you like it?” He looks up at you as you keep staring at his arm, your hand holding onto his wrist to keep it out.

“It’s beautiful Eddie, of course I like it.”

“So did I do a good enough job that I can do it for you then?”

“Yeah, you did a great job Eddie. Do you wanna do it now or wait until tomorrow?”

“Now’s good for me if it’s good for you.” You just nod and lead the way over to the bench where you get the stuff ready for him and he prints out the stencil again.

You lay on the bench getting comfortable while he pulls your chair up to it and adjusts the height. Butterflies swarm in your stomach as he leans over you to clean the area and put the stencil right where you direct him to. The warmth of his hand as he presses it down seeps through the glove and into your skin.

You watch him closely as he works a smile on your face. His tongue is almost permanently out the whole time and he constantly asks you if he’s doing it right. You’re quick to tell him he’s doing a great job and he’s not pressing down too hard or too lightly.

The tattoo definitely takes longer than it would’ve if you did it or if you just had your uncle do it but you’re fine with it. It just means you get to keep Eddie this close to you longer and you’d never complain about that.

“Alright gorgeous you’re all done.” He says as he wipes the remaining ink off of your skin.

“Gorgeous? You don’t have to try flattering me Eds you’ll be getting a free tat for doing this for me.”

“Can’t a guy compliment a girl for no reason other than he wants to darlin’?” He leans back, putting the gun back on the small table and taking the gloves off before handing you the hand mirror to get a look at the fresh ink in your skin.

“This looks really good Eddie. I’m absolutely obsessed with it!” As Eddie watches you touch the skin around his work with that sense of wonder in your eyes makes something turn in his chest and he blurts his next words out.

“Go out with me.”

“What was that Eds?” He’s not sure if he should be happy or sad that you didn’t catch it.

“Nothing, it was nothing.”

“Did you just ask me to go out with you?” Eddie spins around in the chair acting like he was busy organizing your stuff. “Because the answer would be yes if you did.”

“It would?” Eddie straightens up at this news and looks over his shoulder at you. You’re looking at him with a big smile on your face.

“Of course it would.”

“Then yeah, I did just ask you that. That make you my girl now?”

“I guess it does.”

“Good, then check this out!” He excitedly gets out of the chair and hops up next to you on the bench where you had swung your legs over to sit more comfortably. He wraps his left arm around your shoulders with his arm staying out and turned so you can see the butterflies on the inside of it. “Watch the butterflies.” When he places his arm down his butterflies meet with your own. “Thank God I put them in the right spot. I was nervous they wouldn’t exactly meet.”

“Oh shut up, this is the sweetest thing!” Eddie can’t respond to that because you’re pulling him towards you by the neck of his shirt and crashing your lips onto his own as soon as you finish talking.

“Now come on, we gotta wrap these things up.”

Eddie Taglist (Closed): @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @munsonswhore86 @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @rockchickrebel @magicalchocolatecheesecake @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @fangirling-4-ever @gaysludge @audhd-dragonaut @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @tvserie-s-world @midnightsgetawaycar @goldylions @venomsvl @zbeez-outlet @eddie-swhore @haileighboi @myownworstenemyyy @sharnnnnnn @bratckerman @spacedoutdaydreamer @livslifeonline @phantomxoxo @mushroomelephant @hb8301 @ginnupp @saramelaniemoon @kaylshunter @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @cole22ann @spikedhe4rt @let-love-bleeds-red @siriouslysmoking @ladybug0095 @toobsessedsstuff @3rriberri @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @ficlibrary420 @literally-a-ferret @sparkletash @herejustforjj @aactuaaltraash @gloryekaterina @frogsdeservelovetoo @quixscentsposts

Everything Taglist: @bejeweledmastermind @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x you #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things

389 notes · View notes

chickensarentcheap · 6 months

Text

In a Heartbeat- Chapter Five

Fandom: Extraction

PAIRING: TYLER RAKE AND ESME DRUMMOND (ESTABLISHED OFC)

SUMMARY: Dhaka nearly ended everything before it even began. In it’s aftermath and with Tyler’s life teetering on the threshold between life and death, Esme is about to realize just how strong she can be. And that love happens when it happens. There’s no rules. No rhyme or reason. No timeline.

Warnings: brief mention of sex toys and kinks (butt plugs, dildos, pegging. But not in the way you think lol)

Tagging: @tragiclyhip @youflickedtooharddamnit @secretaryunpaid @munstysmind @themaradwrites @ninjasawakenedmystar @thebejeweledwatercat @alisbackalleybbq @theesirenteller @karimac @kmc1989 @asirensrage @residentdormouse @arrthurpendragon @ocappreciation @occommunity

Link to Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48691714/chapters/129441475

My tag list is OPEN. Please just ask to be added if you'd like :D

****

“Okay…” Slipping off his coat, Tyler surveys his surroundings, greeting a waiting and ecstatic Lucy with a vigorous rub of the head. “...now it’s all starting to make sense.”

Esme sets both the wheeled suitcase and duffle bag by the door, then drops her hobo-style handbag on the kitchen table. “What’s making sense?”

“Why none of those pictures from the ‘net showed the inside of this place.”

Shrugging out of her jacket, she removes her beanie and tosses both aside; shaking out her long, dark tresses before placing her hands on her hips and surveying their surroundings. “It’s not THAT bad. It’s quaint. Cozy. Cute.”

“You realize that’s wood panelling on the walls, yeah?”

“Okay, so it kind of reminds me of my grandparents’ basement. Which they haven’t remodelled since the early seventies. But I’ve seen worse. I’ve LIVED in worse.”

“Is this where you tell me about your time in some rat-infested dump in New York City?”

“New York isn’t as horrible as you make it out to be. I would have given up an organ, even a limb, to land something right in the city. A walk-up apartment in an old brownstone. That was always my dream. To have a cute little place like Carrie Bradshaw’s.”

“Who?”

“Carrie Bradshaw. The main character in Sex and the City? Played by Sarah Jessica Parker? She’s married to Matthew Broderick? You know, the guy who was Ferris Bueller?”

“I have no goddamn clue who any of these people are.”

“You’ve never heard of Sex and the City? Have you been living in a cave? Cooking over an open fire? Throwing random women over your shoulder and carrying them back for sexy time?”

Smirking, he removes his beanie. “That’s how I landed you, wasn’t it?”

“You landed me with your pretty blue eyes and your sexy voice and your big dick.”

“You’re nothing if not honest.”

“Carrie is a writer,” Esme continues, holding the back of a kitchen chair to keep it steady as he lowers himself into it. “She writes about relationships and sex and life in the Big Apple. And she’s got her little posse; Miranda, the fiercely independent lawyer, Charlotte the die-hard romantic, longing to find true love, Samantha the big-time slut who loves men just a little too much. She was my favourite, by the way.”

“Makes sense. What’s that saying? Something about birds of a feather flocking together?”

She scowls. “Well, that’s just plain rude.”

“If you ask me, the show sounds like it’s for girls.”

“Plenty of men loved it. Mostly gay men, but…” Retreating to the middle of the living room, she places a hand on her hip, eyes narrowing as she taps the tip of her index against her lips.. “...I see the potential here. It’s not a lost cause. And it’s definitely not hideous. It’s just…”

“It’s ugly, and you know it.”

“Dated. It’s dated.”

“It’s not a person. You can say what you really feel. You can’t hurt its feelings.”

“I thought you, of all people, would love something like this. This is a five-star resort compared to where you were living when I met you.”

“I’ll have you know that I built that place myself. By hand.”

“And I’m extremely proud of you, and I find it very sexy when a man is great with his hands. In all the best possible ways. But babe, you had no interior walls, most of your windows didn’t close properly, and you had chickens as roommates. Believe me, this is a step up.”

“So what you’re saying is that it’s a ‘no’ to chickens in the house. Kinda ruins my plans.”

“As much as I’d rather NOT be constantly picking up their shit, I’ll deal. Only because I know how much you love the mangey little bastards. But they are NOT sleeping in bed with us.”

“What about night’s you’re not here?”

“It’s unlikely we’ll encounter nights like those, but IF it happens? You better make sure you change the damn sheets before I get home. You totally slept with your chickens before you met me, didn’t you. You totally let them in the bed.”

“Once in a while.”

“So which one of you was the little spoon? Or did you alternate every second night?”

“Has anyone ever told you that you have a really smart mouth?”

“No. But I have been told how extremely talented it is.”

“That I CAN’T argue with. I definitely have no complaints.”

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t listen to them. So…” Tugging playfully on his ears, she lays a hand on the nape of his neck and steps around to the side of the chair. “...what do you think? About this place? I know it isn’t as bougie as you’re used to, but…”

Reaching under the bottom of her shirt, he hooks a finger in one of the belt loops on her jeans and pulls her down onto his left thigh. “It’s tolerable. For now.” Pressing a kiss to her shoulder, his hand moves to her stomach, calloused palm flat against warm, smooth skin. “Until we’re able to get around to doing stuff.”

“Nik says it’s all ours. We can do whatever we want with it. I know it’s not going to be a permanent place for us, but…”

“I mean, it could be. If that’s what you wanted.”

“I just assumed you’d want to go home. That we’d end up in Australia.”

“We can end up wherever you want. I have no ties to ANY place. Just say where you want to go, and that’s where we’ll head.”

“It’s definitely something we’ll have to talk about. I can’t really decide something like THAT all on my own. You need to have a say in it, too. It’s not just me that deserves to be happy.”

“I’m happy as long as you are. Just say where you want to go. We’ll go.”

“As cute and sappy as that is…”

“You did NOT just use the c and the s word to describe me. In the SAME sentence.”

“...we both know it doesn’t work that way. That if you just follow me somewhere with no say, things would not end well. So we’ll talk about it. When we’re ready to make a decision like that. Sound good?”

“Whatever you say.”

“Goddamn, you’re difficult.”

“I thought I was being pretty easy and reasonable. What more do you want from me?”

“We both need to do a lot of work when it comes to being in a relationship.”

“Please don’t suggest therapy. I’ve had enough therapy in the past two months to last me a lifetime.”

“No therapy. I might get you to read some self-help books or listen to some podcasts…”

“Get off me.”

“That’s a request you usually don’t make,” she quips, then laughs and tightens her hold on him when he attempts to push her off his lap. “Baby, you’re so cute. Even when you’re being a grumpy shit.”

He smirks. “Fuck off, Esme.”

“You need a nap.” Placing a kiss on his temple, she affectionately tousles his hair and stands. “Or something to eat. Maybe both. Are you hangry, Tyler James? Are you hangry and sweepy?”

“Yes.”

“I’m just going to take a quick look around and then make us something to eat. And you’ve got meds to take. You’re due.”

“I’m fine.”

“You know what the doctor said. About making sure you keep on schedule. If you don’t do that…”

“The pain will really set in, and it’ll be harder to get rid of it. I was there. I heard him.”

“Then quit being so difficult. You don’t need to be an insufferable asshole twenty-four-seven.”

“Yes, I do. I have a reputation to keep.”

“Believe me, your reputation isn’t going anywhere. Not everyone can survive what you did. I think you cemented your legend status.”

“By the way, how does that make you feel about things?”

She pauses in the doorway of the spare bedroom. “What things?”

“Life, in general. Knowing you’re spending your life fucking a legend.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know, would I? Considering I haven’t fucked him since he got the title.”

With a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he snatches the discarded beanie from the middle of the table. “You can be a real bitch, you know that?”

“Now THAT I do know.” She laughs as she effortlessly dodges the hat thrown in her direction. “Give me a few minutes, and then I’ll make something to eat. You won’t starve in the meantime.”

“You’re actually going to subject me to your cooking the first day in?”

Scowling, she disappears into the second bedroom. Several seconds passing before just her hand appears in the doorway in order to flip him the middle finger.

His fingers alternate between slipping through Lucy’s short, smooth fur and scratching her favourite spot directly under her chin. Listening as Esme’s feet -clad in thick, mismatched woollen socks move over the weathered and creaking floorboards. Hearing intermittent soft clicking and the sliding of wood against wood as she inspects dresser and nightstand drawers. And when it finally falls silent, he calls out to her. “Anything interesting?”

“Whoever lived here before us were total freaks! I just found a whole load of gigantic dildos in the bedside table! And one of those harnesses a woman wears. You know, when she does her man up the…”

“Esme…”

“I don’t see any lube though. I guess we’re not trying pegging tonight.”

“Don’t even THINK about it.”

“What would you say if I came to bed and had a butt plug in with a raccoon’s tail hanging off it?”

“I’d call you a freak and kick you out onto the couch.”

She gives a disgruntled, dramatic huff, then appears in the doorway. “You’re boring.”

“You certainly weren’t saying that two nights ago when we almost got caught by the night nurse. While you were giving me…”

“Like, no pegging with giant dildos and no raccoon tail butt plugs? I swear, a girl can’t have ANY fun.”

“If that’s your idea of fun, you’ve got the wrong guy.”

“Don’t worry, big boy.” She shoots him a wink as she pads through the small, open-concept living room and kitchen. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I’ll be gentle with you.”

“You even come near me with one of those things…”

“I was joking. I didn’t find a damn thing. Which is incredibly disappointing. I was hoping some eccentric weirdo lived here before and left some wild shit behind.”

“Have you looked around this place? The panelling? Fucking knick-knacks all over the place? A goddamn deer head on the wall? Does any of that scream eccentric weirdo do you?”

“It could have been to throw off visitors. Convince innocent, unsuspecting people that they were completely normal. You know, so they could drug their coffee and tea in order to knock them out and hide them in their sex dungeon!”

“I think it’s safe to say that no one normal lives here NOW. Well, one of us might be considered somewhat sane.”

“Don’t worry. Your secret's safe with me. I won’t tell anyone you’re a psycho.”

She opens the door to the main bathroom and pokes her head inside. Fingernails tapping against the wall as she makes approving noises and comments about the brand new shower, tub, sink, and toilet. Then proceeds to curse and grumble about having to DEFINITELY change the flooring and the colour of the walls.

“I think we both know I’m the only somewhat normal one around here.”

“You keep telling yourself that.” She moves to the master bedroom, mere seconds passing before she gives a loud gasp. “Oh my god….TYLER!”

“Let me guess, you found the sex dungeon.”

“Even better!” She appears in the doorway, eyes sparkling and dancing as she gives an excited squeal and bounces up and down on her heels. “It’s bigger than I expected!”

“Didn’t you say those exact words in Dhaka? The first time I dropped my pants?”

“I was pleasantly surprised. That you exceeded even MY lofty expectations.”

“What did you find? I swear if it’s anything remotely related to me taking something up the ass…”

“Nothing like that! You need to see it! It’s enormous!”

“You don’t have another guy stashed in there, do you?”

“I can barely handle the one I already have. Why would I want the extra stress? Seriously, come and see this.”

“I know what a bedroom looks like.”

“It’s not just the room that’s bigger and better than I thought it would be! It’s the bed! It takes up so much space, and there’s still lots of room to spare. Please just come and take a look? Because I asked so nicely? Pretty please? I know how much you love to make me happy.”

“For someone so tiny, you’re an enormous pain in my ass,” he grumbles, yet shoots her a wink. A hand on the table top as he slowly pushes himself up onto his feet; fighting back a wince as even the most careful of movements bring almost unbearable agony. Too much time spent on his ass during the flight and the long drive from Vienna to the cabin; his knee feeling tight and swollen and in desperate need of relief.

“As soon as we eat, you put your leg up,” Esme informs him, as he joins her in the doorway. “It’s not good to go this long without elevating it. And you WILL take your meds.”

“While I’d normally argue with you and tell you I’m fine…”

“That’s how I know it’s bad. You’re NOT giving me a hard time.”

“I’ll be okay. Just he assures her, and places a hand on the back of her neck, his lips meeting her temple as his fingers massage the stiff, tight muscles. “Just need to rest it.”

For months she’s held onto an enormous amount of stress and tension; those long, trying days and nights spent at his bedside, fighting back against the doctors who had already declared him a lost cause and wanted to just pull the plug. But she’d held on there despite the pressure dumped upon her, digging her heels in even further and refusing to break to their demands. They weren’t using him as a sacrifice to the healthcare system Gods; they’d have to find another way to ‘free up a bed’.

“She’s going to break sooner or later,” Nik had warned him just days before his release. “She’s been shouldering all of this for three quarters of a year. I’ve been around some very tough people, but none as tough as THAT. She can’t keep it up, Tyler. She just can’t. We all break at one point or another. And when her time comes, you’re going to have to be there for her. Because she’ll need you. So you better be sure that you’ll step up.”

One of her tiny hands falls on the small of his back as he sticks his head into the master. “What do you think? It’s huge, right?”

“Definitely bigger than I expected. The room AND the bed.”

She playfully smacks his ass, grinning up at him as she tightly squeezes a cheek through the fabric of his pants. “You know how much I love a large playground.”

“Speaking of playtime, when do I get my surprise?”

“Patience is a virtue, old fella.”

“For who?”

“The virtuous, I guess. Besides, I thought you were hungry. And tired. And sore.”

“I am. I’m all three of those. But…” He hastily removes the sling from his left arm, tearing open the velcro fasteners and tossing the object onto the dresser. Not giving her a chance to respond, he grabs hold of her hips and uses his much larger, heavier frame to propel her backwards into the room.

“We’re really going to give it a go, are we? Right this second?”

“No time like the present. I’ve been wanting to give it a go since we left the hospital. Even BEFORE that. I was going to say something on the plane; about joining the mile-high club, but…”

“Been there, done that.”

He frowns, pausing as he leans in to kiss her, their lips a hair’s width apart.

“You’re not the only one with a past, Tyler Rake.”

“Did he teach you anything good?”

“He taught me a few things.” Her hands slide up the front of his henley shirt, chestnut eyes locked on brilliant blue as she softly drags the nails of her index across his stomach. Beginning their lazy journey at his belt buckle and finally finishing at each of his hips. “Who do you think is responsible for this mouth being so talented?”

“As much as I hate even thinking about you with other guys, I want his name and address. So I can send him a thank you card. And a case of beer. You know, just a small token of gratitude.”

“And seeing as he didn’t give a shit about what I needed to feel good, I figured I’d let you teach me the rest.”

“I’m honoured.”

“You should be. I’ve already let you go where no man has ever dared to go before.”

“Only because you asked me if I would. Can’t believe it only took two days.”

“What can I say…” She catches him off guard by pushing him backwards, pinning him between her body and the dresser as she aggressively yanks open his belt. “...you have that effect on me.”

“I realize I’m still hurting, and I got a long way to go, but don’t think for a second you get to be the boss. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Who are you kidding?” She pops open the button on his pants. “I’m always the boss.”

Smirking, he snatches her by the throat, fingers lightly pressing into the soft, delicate flesh as he pushes her towards the bed. And she gives a gasp of surprise when the back of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, giggling when she loses her balance and topples backwards.

She pushes herself up onto her elbows. a slow grin spreading from ear to ear as she watches him quickly dispose of both knee brace and pants and hastily toss them into the nearest corner. “No underwear, huh? You WERE hopeful.”

“Easy access. For both of us.”

“Even in this weather. I’m surprised your balls didn’t freeze off. That would have been a goddamn Greek tragedy.”

“They’re still a little. If you can warm them up. It’ll keep you quiet for a while.”

“Kinky.” She laughs when he grabs hold of the bottom of her jeans; falling backward when he aggressively pulls her towards him. “You ARE eager.”

“Things are working. You said yourself, it’s been hit or miss. Well, right now it's a hit, so…” He yanks both the denim and her skimpy lace underwear over her hips and ass and down her legs. “...let’s not waste time. Just in case.”

“Aren’t you even going to wait? For me to get your surprise on?”

“Nope.” He shoves her thighs open. “Right now, I don’t care. We’ll do that later.”

“Two times in one day? Someone is feeling awful cocky.”

“It’s my cock that’s feeling something. Don’t worry, you’ll be feeling it soon too.”

She opens her mouth to respond but quickly bites down on the bottom lip as he makes his way up her body; a mixture of calloused palms, the roughness of his beard, and the press of warm, soft lips. Thick fingers -with their various scars and misshapen knuckles- digging into the back of her thighs as he licks, sucks, and nibbles his way along the insides of her legs. And though disappointed when he ignores the most desperate and aching of parts, she still manages a giggle when he pulls her surgical steel navel ring into his mouth and lightly yanks at it with his teeth.

No one has ever worshipped her the way he does. The attention and focus he displays while paying homage to her body; the fire in her very bones and nerves growing in intensity with every swipe of his tongue and suckle of his lips and every caress and group of her hands. Selfless and never selfish, even when his own wants and needs are profound and overwhelming. Forever paying keen attention to the way she responds to him. Learning through every sigh and moan, every flinch and shiver, the differences in tone and pitch when she says his name. And somehow always knowing exactly what she needs.

By the time he reaches her lips, she’s desperate for so much more, nails raking across his shoulders and down his back, hips continuously rising to meet his in an unspoken request. When he finally kisses her, she moans into his mouth, and her hands find his hair; her fingers immediately tunnelling through the longer strands as she responds eagerly and hungrily. But when he pulls away to look down at her, there’s a tenderness in his eyes that she isn’t prepared for. An affection and adoration that softens his features and enables her to truly ‘see’ him for the first time. And suddenly, he seems far removed from the hardened and highly skilled mercenary that she had initially fallen in love with. Instead replaced by a previously broken and haunted man who’s in the midst of the most important transformation of his entire life.

The healing of both body AND mind.

“I love you.”

It brings tears to her eyes. The sincerity in those three simple, yet powerful words.

“More than you’ll ever know.”

The sob escapes her before she has the chance to bite it back, and she quickly finds herself gathered into strong arms and a broad chest. His body is warm and hard against hers, and his hands are steady yet comforting as they lovingly stroke her hair and repeatedly caress her back.

It’s all so foreign and overwhelming. Completely unlike anything she’s ever known or experienced. He’s reliable. Protective. Making her feel safe and secure in ways no one else ever has.

And in that moment, she’s sure of one thing. She’s never been loved like this, either.

*****

He feels sleepy and content as he lounges on the couch; his bad leg -once more sporting the knee brace- stretched out, foot resting on the coffee table. Both body and mind sated by a successful -if not disappointingly short- love making session that ended up more slow and tender than he’d originally anticipated. It had been followed by a hot shower and a surprisingly good meal that Esme had been incredibly proud of; a simple pasta and meat sauce dish paired with salad and garlic toast. Now he alternates between watching football and listening to his girlfriend as she busies herself in the kitchen. Lucy refusing to leave her side; more than pleased with the morsels of food she’d been slipped under the table. And with the seemingly endless amount of ear rubs and hair ruffles and chin scratches that are passed her way.

It’s the most relaxed he’s been in years. The warmth of the fire as snow trickles down outside, the rattling of dishes and silverware, and the way Esme alternates between humming as she works and talking to Lucy in a quiet, motherly way. The fear is starting to fade; the realization setting in that not only this is his life now, but he’s good with it. Not entirely accepting of the fact he’s retired; remaining somewhat concerned about where he goes -professional speaking- from here. But he feels safe and secure in the knowledge that knowing that Esme is under the same roof. Wanting and needing him. Loving him.

“I don’t have anything else, my love,” Esme addresses the dog sprawled out at her feet. “At least none of what you really want. Do you want a cookie? Auntie Nik got them just for you. I bet they’re delicious. Let’s get you a cookie.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees her move across the room, her hair still loose and flowing and nearly reaching the middle of her back. Her tiny frame clad in a pair of simple black leggings and one of the plaid shirts she’d poached from his side of the closet. And he finds himself amused by the way she has to stand on her tiptoes to get the container of dog biscuits off the second shelf in the cupboard.

“Tyler…”

“Yeah?”

“This d…o…g won’t stop eating.”

“Why did you spell that out?”

“Because I don’t want her to know I’m talking about her. It might give her a complex.”

“Your logic is…astounding.”

“Even animals have feelings. I mean, you’re the biggest one of all, and you’ve been all up in your feels lately.”

“Esme?”

She glances towards him.

Without looking away from the television, he holds up his right hand and flips her the middle finger.

“Well, that’s just rude, isn’t it Lucy? Just plain rude.”

“She’s a traitor. That’s your dog now. She’s made that perfectly clear. Hasn’t left your side since before dinner.”

“Well, if we want to get technical, she’s OUR dog now. But I’m sure she still loves you best. Daddy’s still your favourite, isn’t he? You could never love anyone the way you love him. I’ll let you in on a little secret; I feel the exact same way about him.”

He smiles. “You BOTH have horrible taste in men.”

“Excuse you? I’ll have you know that my taste in me is impeccable. Well, at least NOW it is. I didn’t have to kiss too many frogs before I got to my prince, but the ones I DID have to kiss? Ewwww.” Giving Lucy a final pet, she fills the kettle and plugs in it, completing her tidying of the kitchen and then making a coffee for him, a tea for herself. Starting her journey into the living room, she pauses by the front door; spotting the small cardboard box he’d set down earlier. “What’s this?”

He casts a glance in her direction. “Just some stuff from my old place. That Nik and Yaz packed up.”

“That’s all they brought?”

“That and some clothes.”

“Where’s the rest?”

“What rest? You saw my old place. What more was there for them to bring?”

“What’s in it?”

“Just some personal shit. From back in the day. Nothing you need to worry yourself with.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It’s really none of my business. I shouldn’t have even asked. It’s really none of my business.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Fuck. He really needs to pay more attention to the tone of his voice when speaking to her. He’s always been straight to the point; never dragging things out or sugar coating them. While it had suited him well in both military and mercenary life and had, it had unfortunately been one of the many issues that eventually sunk his marriage. Esme deserves better; she’s sensitive and feels and loves so deeply and profoundly. And, like her need to give and want affection, it’s yet another thing he needs to get used to. “I just meant that it’s nothing serious. I’d tell you if it was.”

She doesn’t pursue it. Either not as hurt at his reaction as he had thought she would be, or just deciding to pick her battles. But she greets him with a smile when she joins him, setting their mugs down on the coffee table and then accepting the hand he offers her and dropping down beside her.

Releasing her hand, he wraps his arm around her, he pulls her tightly against him, his hand resting on her hip as he presses a kiss to her temple. She smells so damn good; that mixture of coconut, honey, and milk that he’d first discovered in Dhaka and had been so enthralled. It’s simple and unassuming; a cheap shampoo that she’d found in a corner store in Prague just hours before Nik had brought her to Australia. And she’d been so taken aback by his genuine compliments about the scent, that she’d decided never to use anything else.

“I’m sorry.”

She reaches for the coffee and hands it to them, then picks up her tea. “For what?”

“I honestly didn’t mean it the way it sounded. When you asked about the box. It’s not it’s not your business. It’s just…” Shrugging, he sips at his drink. “...nothing you’d be interested in. Or at least, I don’t think you’d be.”

“I’m interested in YOU. In your life. Especially the one that came before me. I know it wasn’t a utopia by any stretch of the imagination, and you’ve been through some shit, but if you ever WANT to share, I’m good with it.”

“Same goes for you, yeah? If you ever just want to tell me about things? I don’t want you holding back because you think it’s going to piss me off. Even if hearing about your ex and the shit he did might make me feel homicidal.”

“And he’d deserve it. If you got a hold of him and broke every bone in his body.”

“I wouldn’t just stop there. I wouldn’t be able to. And a lot of places to stash him afterwards. Where no one would ever find him.”

“As much as I appreciate and love you for wanting to avenge me, I also don’t want to bring him into this. Into our life together. I don’t want him tarnishing things. Ruining them.”

“He could never do that.”

“Just some things really are better left in the past. Some of the things he did…” She chews on her bottom lip, choosing her words carefully. “...I just can’t talk about those. And that’s not a personal slight against you. It’s not because I feel like I CAN’T you. It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know. But if you ever DO want to talk about things…”

“Believe, you’d be the first person…the ONLY person…I’d ever go to. I trust Nik and Yaz, but not in the same way I trust you. Does that make sense?”

“It does. I feel the same way about you.”

“You’re my person, Tyler. You’re the one I want to tell things to. Good AND bad. You’re the one I want to share things with. Whether it’s horror stories about my ex or stupid jokes that I’ve gathered up over the years, or things I hear or see when I’m out. I don’t feel that comfortable with anyone else. Not like I do with you.”

“Do you think maybe it has something to do with the fact I’m the one you get naked and do filthy fucking things with?”

“That could play a role,” she laughs, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek.

They settle into a comfortable, companionable silence, Lucy joining them and lying on the floor in front of the couch; watching the football game as they nurse their drinks, enjoying the warmth from the fire. He realizes that they’re in the midst of the ‘honeymoon phase’; everything seems to flow and co-exist so easily. Able to shut themselves away from the outside world; refusing to allow intrusive thoughts to penetrate the bubble they’ve built around themselves. They’re happy and comfortable; immersed in the ‘getting to know you stage’ outside of the intimate moments. Learning about each other’s likes and dislikes, their respective quirks and habits. It won’t always be this way. The charm will wear off; they’ll become easily annoyed and agitated as they both attempt to get used to sharing not only their space but their life, with another person.

When their mugs are empty, she places them on the coffee table and then stretches out on the couch. On her side with both arms wrapped around his thigh and her head in his lap.

“Is your team playing?”

His hand settles on her hip. “Yeah. The Western Bulldogs. They’re the ones with the red and blue shirts.”

“Are they winning?”

“By a pretty big margin, actually.”

“This doesn’t look like regular football. It’s nothing like the NFL. These guys are out there just killing each other. And as much as enjoy senseless violence from time to time…”

“This is Australian rules. Nothing like what you’re used to. This is the real deal. Not that wimpy crap they play where you’re from.”

“If we’re able to get sports from Australia, we might be able to get some hockey games. That would be nice. We could watch them together.”

“I don’t like hockey.”

“Have you ever seen a hockey game?”

“Once. That was enough.”

“Tell you what…” She rolls over onto her back “...if you’ll watch some hockey games and learn a bit about it, I’ll do the same with you and your football. Deal?”

“I suppose I could agree to that.”

“You’re going to have to teach me the rules, though. I know nothing about football. ANY kind of football.”

“Shouldn’t be hard. You’ve already proven to be a pretty fast learner in other areas. I’m impressed with you.”

“Well, you happen to be an excellent teacher. Although I do have one complaint.”

Tyler frowns.

“Things worked so well, I am aching. I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk properly for a couple of days.”

“Just a couple? I’m insulted.”

“Next time, the number will be higher, I promise.”

“I may have been a little….hasty…when it came to going from start to finish.”

“It lasted longer than I thought it would, to be honest.”

“Excuse you?”

“I didn’t mean that as a cheap shot. And I’m already very familiar with your skills and your staying power. But think of everything you just went through; you were clinically dead nine months ago, AND you just spent three quarters of a year in the hospital. I know we’ve gotten up to other things, but we haven’t actually done THAT. Given the circumstances, you not lasting that long is to be expected.”

“I don’t know if any of your little speech made me feel any better. It’s embarrassing. I’m thirty-five years old and…”

“You’re thirty-six now. You had a birthday in the midst of everything.”

“That’s it, just go and make things worse. Add another year onto my life.”

“Listen…” Reaching up, she takes hold of his chin. “...there is nothing to be embarrassed about. Do you realize how close you were? To being six feet under? You shouldn’t even be here. A weaker man? They would have given up. They wouldn’t have fought their way back. And if one of the setbacks to surviving all that is to not last as long as you usually do, I’d say that’s pretty damn good.”

“I’ve lasted longer than since I was fifteen years old.”

“And you’ll go back lasting longer again. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did I have a problem with it?”

“Not that I could tell. Or that you’re admitting.”

“I have absolutely zero complaints. Except for the whole not being able to walk or sit properly thing. You need to realize that things aren’t going to be like they were. Not for a while, anyway. You’ve come a long way and there’s an even longer way to go. Can’t you just be proud of yourself? For even getting out of that hospital?”

“I only did it for you. You’re the only reason I fought my way back. Why I busted my ass to get back on my feet. If you hadn’t been around…”

“But I WAS. I was there because I wanted to be. Because I knew you had a lot of fight left in you. And I know you’re tired and frustrated, and you think you should be further ahead, but you’re doing way better than anyone ever expected.”

“You expected it. You didn’t give up.”

“I know how strong you are. And I know you in ways all those other people don’t. Even Nik. I wasn’t abandoning you, Tyler. And I would have fought to the bitter end. Until there was some proof you weren’t going to come out of it. So THIS? This whole not lasting as long as normal? It’s actually a huge accomplishment, considering. Think of it that way.”

“Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“How do you always find the silver lining in everything? The glass is always half full to you. How…?”

“Because I know what I’ve survived. Not even my worst days come close to what Mark put me through. So guess I’ve just tried to turn my suffering into something positive. I’ve learned to look at the world in a different way.”

“Personally, I think you’re just some kind of freak.”

Scowling, she flicks the tip of his nose with her thumb and forefinger.

“I love you, though. As weird as you are.”

“Admit it, my weirdness was one of the things you found adorable and appealing.”

“No, actually. It wasn’t. I’ve just learned to accept it and live with it.”

“Well, for what it’s worth? I love YOU. You enormously stubborn pain in my ass.”

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve it, but…”

“Did I say it was up for debate? Did I say you could question things? No. So just…” She places a hand over his mouth. “...shhhh. Stop asking why and stop doubting what you’re worthy of, and just go with it. Can you do that? Just accept it and go with it?”

“I can try.”

“You better,” she warns and then turns her face towards him, her nose pressing into his stomach and her eyes closing. The events of the morning and afternoon quickly catching up to her: the relief that came with finally leaving the hospital, the long flight that had followed, and the drive to the cabin that represented the last leg of their trip to freedom. And then the sex; that effortless transition from hungry, desperate, and impatient to something much more tender and attentive.

Now she’s finally able to relish in the aftermath. Enjoying the hardness of his body and that warmth that radiates from it, his familiar smell and the beat of his heart deep within. Issuing a long, content sigh when one of those enormous, calloused hands is placed upon her cheek; his fingertips softly stroking her forehead while his thumb makes continuous sweeps across her cheek. And just as she begins to feel herself teetering on the edge of sleep, she feels him move against her; the slight shift of his body and the couch cushions as he reaches for the throw on the back of the couch and proceeds to drape it over her. What follows is such a simple, sweet display of care and adoration. A smile playing on her lips as this man -so big and so strong and capable of inflicting so much harm- ever so tenderly tucks and secures the fabric under and around her.

From that moment, she loses all track of time. The stroking of her cheek eventually ceases; his arm becomes limp, and his hand comes to rest upon her hip as sleep finally claims him. His soft snoring and deep rhythmic breathing joining the rattling of the windows as the wind and the snow continue to rage beyond the cabin’s four walls.

*****

When she wakes, it’s to the crackle of the fire and Lucy’s loud snoring, the cattle dog somehow managing to find enough space on the sofa. Rolling onto her back, she gives a loud yawn and a long, languorous stretch. Rapidly blinking her eyes when she’s greeted by the unexpected glow of the couch side lamp.

She watches Tyler in silence. Still in the same spot as when she’d fallen asleep, his eyes narrowed, and his brow furrowed as he devotes his focus and attention to a game on his cell phone. And it isn’t until she lightly tickles his stomach that he acknowledges her, greeting her with a soft smile as he uses gentle fingertips to clear strands away off her forehead and out of her eyes.

“Hey.”

“Sleep alright?”

Esme nods. “Guess I was just way too warm and cozy. Did you?”

“It was an okay nap. I kinda freaked out a bit, though. When I woke up. I didn’t even remember coming here. I thought I was still in the hospital. So when I didn’t recognize anything…”

“You spent three-quarters of a year there. I’d be surprised if you didn’t have moments like that. Eventually, they’ll go away. Once you get used to being here.”

“Once I realized that you, were YOU, I was alright. I knew I was in a safe place. That everything was going to be okay.”

It’s so sincere and genuine….so unexpected… that it causes a lump of emotion to sit square in her throat. She’s never known anyone quite like him, the strong, silent type that usually doesn’t have much to say, but makes an enormous impact when he does speak. He hides nothing from her. Open and transparent from the beginning of those five days in Dhaka, not just with words, but with facial expressions and body language. Both of them -despite their painful pasts and respective, albeit different, losses- somehow finding a level of trust in one another that neither had experienced before.

“Are you alright?”

Nodding, he tosses his phone onto the coffee table. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re feeling okay? You’ve had enough to eat? You don’t have too much pain? You…”

“Are you really going to do this as soon as you get up? Start worrying?”

“I can’t help it. I’m a worrier. It’s who I am. You should be used to it by now.”

“There’s nothing for you to worry about. I’m fine. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

Her eyes narrow. “Would you?”

“I’ve already promised I would. About a million times already. I’m fine, Esme. I mean, other than the fact my left leg and my ass are completely asleep.”

“You could have gotten up, you know.” She attempts to sit up, laughing when a broad, strong forearm prevents her. “You didn’t have to stay here. You could have moved me.”

“I didn’t have the heart to do it. You looked way too cute, lying there like that. You snore, by the way.”

“I most certainly do not.”

“You do. You snore AND talk in your sleep.”

“Did I say anything interesting?”

“You didn’t incriminate yourself in any crimes if that’s what you mean. You did make a grocery list, though. Toilet paper, milk, ketchup, and cat litter.”

“Bullshit. You’re making that up.”

“I’m telling the truth. Scouts honour.”

“You were NEVER a scout. Who are you kidding?”

“But you did make a grocery list. And those are the things you mentioned. I have no idea where the cat litter comes into play, but…”

“Maybe that was a hint. That we should get a cat.”

“I don’t like cats.”

“How can you not like cats? They’re cute, and they’re furry, and they purr and make biscuits on you. How can you not be into that sort of thing?”

“They smell funny.”

“This coming from a guy that lets chickens freely roam the house. And sleep in the bed!”

“We are NOT getting a cat.”

“Just one?”

“No.”

“Please? You won’t even know it’s here. I’ll do all the feeding and the cleaning up and…”

“I don’t want a cat. I’m not a cat guy. Do I look like one to you?”

“Please, you like pussy more than anyone I know.”

“Not that kind, I don’t.”

“I’ll break you. I’ll wear you down. I will get my cat.”

“Over my dead body.”

“That can be arranged.”

“You’d never go through with. You’d miss me too much.”

“Like a hemorrhoid.” She squeals when he slides a hand between her and the couch and aggressively pinches her ass, then playfully shoves him away and sits up; hands smoothing over her hair and fixing her ponytail. “I have some bad news, by the way.”

“Color me surprised.”

“We have to leave the house sooner than I thought. We need to go into town. Grab a few things.”

“Ketchup, ass tissue, and cat litter?”

“Ice cream. And chocolate. My period is coming soon.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

“I mean, you wouldn’t wonder why I’m suddenly bitchy and bleeding out of my vagina?”

“You’re always bitchy. And you like things rough. Anything can go wrong when you’re…”

“And firewood. We need firewood. Track down some of the pre-cut, bagged stuff. There’s not enough on the porch to even last even a couple of days. It’s how we heat this place, so…”

“Have you taken a look outside? We are surrounded by trees. Which is where firewood comes from. And I already saw an axe out on the front porch.”

“You have one good arm.”

“Which is more than enough to chop firewood. I mean, it’ll take a lot longer than if I had TWO good arms, but…”

“And you have one good leg. You’re going to hurt yourself. Chop your foot off or something. I could always do it. I know how to use an axe.”

“You can lift an axe?”

“Well, maybe not a normal-size one. But a little one.”

“You mean a hatchet?”

“It’s technically a little axe, right? I mean, it’ll take me a couple of days to make any sort of headway, but…”

“And you worry about me hurting myself? I’m just supposed to be okay with you wielding a hatchet? I mean, if you want to do it that badly, you can just come out and help me. Make sure I don’t fuck things up.”

“Oh, right. And then when I annoy you, you’ll chop me into a million pieces and throw me in the woods!”

“I would never chop you up and throw you in the woods.”

“Aww, you big softy. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself; if I wasn’t around anymore. You’d…”

“I’d chop you up and feed you to the dog.”

At the end of the couch, Lucy briefly raises her head, tilting it from side to side before issuing a heavy sigh and returning to her original position.

“You’re an asshole,” Esme grumbles, laughing when she tries to stand but quickly finds two powerful arms wrapping around her waist and yanking her back down.

“I'll tell you what, because I don’t want you worrying so much, we will go into town and find bagged firewood.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get enough to last at least a couple of weeks. But once it runs out, you gotta give me a chance, yeah? To try and do things? Because I’m going to go completely fucking nuts doing nothing but sitting on my ass all day.”

“There’s lots of things for you to do. You can go on walks, you can ice fish, you can learn to knit, like Yaz said.”

“Just let me try. That’s all I’m asking. I’m not going to get any better by not testing the limits. You need to trust me.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just that I worry about you. I’ve spent nine months taking care of you. In some way or another. And it makes me really nervous; when I think about all the things that could go wrong.”

“Don’t think about those things, then,”

“Believe me, it’s easier said than done. But I WILL try. To not worry so much.”

“Thank you.”

Slipping out of his embrace, she climbs into his lap, wrapping both arms around his neck and placing her head on his shoulder. And her eyes close as she enjoys both his scent and touch, large hands slipping up the back of her shirt, calloused fingertips repeatedly travelling up and down her spine.

“By the way…” His voice rumbles deep within his chest. “...I’d never do anything horrible to you. Not even remotely.”

Smiling, she presses a kiss to the sensitive spot just below his left ear. “I know.”

“Also, I’m ready for my surprise.”

“Jesus…”

“Listen, you said the ‘p word’. That was the trigger.”

Laughing, she pulls back to look at him, fingertips tracing the scar that curves over the bridge of her nose. “You’re like a horny fifteen-year-old stuck in a grown man’s body.”

“I’ve got a lot to make up for. Nine months. That’s…”

“A long ass time.”

“I don’t know old timer,” she teases, and playfully ruffles his hair. “Think you can keep up with a youngin’ like me.”

“I don’t know.” One hand slips between them to gently cup her breast, and he feels her shiver against him when his thumb brushes over her nipple. “But I can’t try.”

#Tyler and Esme series #Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fanfic #Tyler Rake fanfiction #Extraction #Extraction 2 #Extraction fanfic #Extraction fanfiction #Chris Hemsworth #Tyler Rake x OFC #Esme Drummond #Esme Drummond-Rake #Esme Rake

26 notes · View notes