#maybe I’m just holding onto the fears too much
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The Ex and Why's
Summary: No one knows much about Simon’s life aside from what was listed on his files. The family that had died a tragic death, the trauma that came with his actions, and the rank that made him what he was today. No one had realized that behind the balaclava wearing man from Manchester was a man that once had a heart and signed divorced papers he had constantly regretted signing all those years ago..
Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Ex Wife!Reader. John Price. Kate Laswell. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick
Word Count: 9,787
Chapter Warnings: Angst with Happy Ending. Miscommunication. Mention of Minor Character Deaths. Mention of Divorce. Life threatening Injuries. Mention of Simon's tragic past and trauma. Not edited (sorry!)
AN: I can now sleep in peace. If you enjoyed it why not visit my mini celebration and post your own requests I can write just like this.
Masterlist || Request are Open || 500 Followers Celebration
When you had learned about this new job, one thing you had so gotten used to doing was letting Simon know about it. But not this time, something about letting him back into your life wasn’t something you should do anymore. You were no longer married to him by your own choice and no one else’s. So you know it was time to wear your big girl pants now and stopped letting him know about it.
You no longer had any reason to give your ex-husband any updates about your life. A more selfish reason was how you just wanted to start a new life, away from him and away from anything that was related to him.
“Ms. Riley?”
You turned smiling at the man that would now be your new boss. You learned his name to be John Price, a Captain.
Being married to a man like Simon Riley once upon a time, you know some thing or two about what goes on inside of a military base. Even when he hasn’t talked much about it with you during your relationship or if he even gone as far as mention your existence to the people he had once worked with. You chalked it up to overprotectiveness and fear that they would get to you, and some night thing that he was simply embarrassed about you. Maybe it’s another reason why you had opted out of telling him about this new job of yours.
“Captain Price, it’s good to finally meet you.” You firmly shook the man’s hand. A good first impression was the best thing for you to do if it meant making sure you work for the man for the foreseeable future.
“Likewise, Laswell as spoke great things about you and I’m hoping to be able to experience it firsthand.”
You nodded with a smile. Working for Kate’s wife for nearly a few years beforehand, you had appreciated the suggestion for this new role as a secretary for the Captain ever since your divorce. She had understood you needed this change in pace in your life and this was much of a welcome change.
“I do hope it’s all good things.” You quipped right back earning a deep resonating chuckle from the older man.
“Well I think now that introductions as over and done with, let me show you to my office. I do hope you’re up for dealing with a handful of documents for me on your first day.”
“More than happy to.” You beamed following the man, his larger hand holding onto the small of your back as you began your journey into the heart of the base.
All throughout the walk, he was giving your directions to where most things were. You were warned how some men could be rowdy at time and he was more than happy to help in the off chance that any of his men would give you problems.
All you could do was smile, not wanting him to know that you were more than well equipped to punch or kick anyone that would get too handsy with you. One of the perks of having an ex-husband working for the military.
He continued on with how things go around in the base. Schedules for meal time and the curfew in the event that you would be staying in the base overnight. He had also showed you to where your new room would be located in.
“You would be a few rooms away from my own as well as the Lieutenant and Sergeants that I trust most. In the event that I’m unavailable, they will be more than willing to lend you a hand if you need it.”
You nodded before you finally arrived in his office. Opening the door for you, you were greeted with a spacious office. Even in the chaos of the military base, the man’s office was pristine, a few knick knacks and photos that littered his walls, as well as a bookshelf that housed an array of military strategies books. But the most alarming thing about his office was the other table that housed stack upon stacks of folders, papers practically spilling out from each and every single one of them.
“I may or may not have underestimated the help I truly need in this situation.” The Captain said sheepishly as you began opening the folders and gasped that most of them weren’t even ordered correctly even with the page numbers printed on them.
“I think I can manage this.” You blinked hoping you didn’t bite more than you could chew in this moment.
For the next few hours, your time was spent removing staplers upon staplers from the papers for each and every single one of the folders while you were inquiring to John the calls you would be fielding for him from now on and how he would want you to deal with it.
You had learned so much about the man in the few hours being in the same room as him. He was a man that wanted to ensure the safety of the world, even if it meant bloodying his hands up a little just to make sure of it. It showed with some of the missions reports that you may or may not have accidentally read too much into. You’ve also learned how much he hated talking to upper ranking officials if not needed, he was a man that hated authority yet he was working in the field that he was in right now from the way his comments about letting calls from upper ranks go to voice mail if possible.
“Will there be anything or anyone that I should be worried about for now?” You inquired making sure that you did not stir anyone in the wrong way if possible.
“I’m sure Laswell has told you enough to understand our work. Some men are more scarred than sane and if possible, I want you to make sure that you do not give anyone the wrong impression if possible.”
You know what he was implying and with your own experience you know far too well that getting yourself involved with another man in uniform would lead into.
“I’ve done my fair share, Captain. I don’t think that would be much of a problem with me.” You reassured him.
“Laswell told me you were divorced.” He began, huh, who would have thought the man would be the gossiping type.
“It’s been a few years,” You shrugged attention solely on rearranging the files at hand. “It took months before my ex-husband signed the papers, I wanted to think it was because he was deployed but I knew otherwise.” You muttered.
When you had made the decision to finally break things off with Simon, it was like pulling teeth with the man and his near avoidance about the discussion or where you would be sending the divorce papers. You had enough of it, leaving the home you once shared instead with everything you owned and left nothing more of you than the divorce papers alongside the wedding ring and engagement ring he had given you all those years ago.
“He was military too?”
“Something like that.” You nodded not wanting to think too much about the man. Even after everything, you still worried about you giving the man too much information in the event that he works for the opposing side if the chance may have it.
“Well his lost is my gain.” He snorts turning his attention back to the freshly arranged folders courtesy of you that were now ready for his signature. “No offense.”
“None taken, Captain.”
Eventually the man had excused himself for a meeting and had instructed you that no one would be allowed inside aside from him. He had also reminded you about lunch which you could head on out first or you could join him once his meeting was done. You’ve decided it would be best to join him for lunch for now, just to get a feeling of anyone that you would get into contact with on your first day.
With a quick goodbye, you were left on your own and you all but groaned at the folders still stacked up and yet to be touched. It truly made you wonder how the man could be so good in his job yet be so horrible with his paperwork. You will never understand.
Your eyes fixated for a moment on one of the pictures on the wall. It was your boss with three individuals. A blue eyed man with a horrible cut Mohawk but the biggest beaming smile on his face, his arm wrapped around a much younger man with darker skin but a bright eyes that twinkled with happiness for whatever was going on when the photo was taken. But amongst the camaraderie and enjoyment was a man in a skull balaclava mask that had such an empty but somehow familiar eyes, the man stuck out like a sore thumb even with the Captain’s hand resting on the taller man’s shoulder and beaming smile and a cigar between his lips. It was an odd mix of people but it was like family—it made you miss Simon for a moment before your attention got right back to the paperworks.
You can’t think of him now. Not anymore.
After the events of Las Almas, Simon Riley had truly fought the urge to call you, to tell you how much you mean the world to him and how he was now more than willing to give you the compromise you had always longed from him. But a part of him, the bigger and much darker part of him had refused, slamming his own phone onto the wall in the sheer anger of everything that had occurred in the moment. You had made your choice because of his own action and he would be cruel to take that away from you.
“Heard Cap had a new Secretary, old man’s gonna finally keep his paperworks in check now.” Soap had ruining Simon’s sulking in the cafeteria.
It’s been a grueling few days. With new recruits he was forced to deal with in the morning and nightmares that you no longer could vanish for him at night. His life was nothing more than misery personified and he has no one else to blame but himself.
“Can’t say I’m surprise. Laswell probably set it up for him.” Simon muttered being more than within earshot when he heard both Laswell and Price arguing about the man’s need for necessary help with files. It was Laswell’s decision above anything else, it’s just a matter of time if the secretary would actually last with how everything goes around here in the base.
“Still, hope we’ll have a new bonnie around. Getting sick and tired of seeing Bampots all around.”
Simon didn’t even had the energy to question the man’s slangs, his attention solely back on his cup of tea and lunch—how horrible it was compared to your cup and cooking, but he never truly appreciated it until it was gone. His tea was too bitter even with the sugar and cream he added and the food that didn’t have the special kick compared to your own cooking. Even years after the divorce he was still so miserable without you in his life.
“Steamin Jesus.”
Simon could practically hear Soap melt from where he sat in front of him, his eyes directed at whoever was behind Simon. His curiosity got the better of him and his head turned and he was welcomed with the last person he would have ever believed to be walking besides one John Price.
“Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.” Soap pointed out breaking Simon from his trance.
“English, MacTavish.”
“You look a lil’ pale, Lt. Like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.”
Simon could have at this point. As you walked besides Price towards the table he sat in. He noticed how unaware you were even at the sight of him only for him to realize that you had never seen him with his mask on, or in anything that has to do with his line of work—until now.
“Right, I think it’s time to introduce this lovely lass.” Price cleared his throat but he should have known by now that both Simon and Soap’s attention were already on them both. “This is Y/N Riley, my new secretary.”
Simon’s brows rose at that little tidbit. You still had his last name. He understood to a degree why you did so—your family that you had long cut off from your life after what they had done to you, but after everything that had happened between the two of you he wouldn’t have expect you to choose the lesser of two evils—being his last name.
“Riley? She a sister or wife to you, Lt?” Soap’s quick remark earned him a glare from Simon before his attention was back to you, how your brows furrowed before your eyes finally widen in realization.
“Purely coincidence.” Simon muttered.
“This is Sgt. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish and Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley.” Price introduced almost realizing at this point the similarity of the last name you both shared in this moment.
“Nice to meet you two.” You smiled, quickly to compose yourself and shaking both men’s hand.
Even with the glove Simon wore, he could still feel the all too familiar electric shock of your touch against his own. He looked at you how easy your eyes dilated at his touch. It scared him still how you had so much of an effect on him even after the years apart from each other.
As you and Price excused yourselves to get lunch, it left Simon wondering if this was the world finally punishing him for everything he has done in his cruel life. Give him the very thing he had wanted the most only to pull it away at every instance.
“Bloody fucking hell.”
It’s been two weeks since you’ve began your new job as Captain John Price’s secretary. Two weeks since you had tried and succeeded in making sure you had avoided the man known in the base as Ghost—or to you, simply known as Simon Riley, your ex-husband. Every single instance that you were both placed in the same room (mostly in Price’s office), you both acted like you didn’t know each other, it was hard knowing just how close the man was after so long of a separation from each other.
But as much of an avoidance you’ve made for the Lieutenant, the same could not be said for the two Sergeants that had been dead set in making themselves both your companion while in the base but as well as your guard dogs from the ballsy few that would dare ask you out on a date. You appreciated the effort as much as it was not needed knowing it earned a dangerous glare from your ex in the process.
���Looks like you’re right at home.”
You jerked your head up from the files you were arranging at the voice of an all too familiar woman. A smile rested on your face at the sight of one Kate Laswell, your former boss’ wife.
“Kate.” You smiled an exhausted sigh escaping your lips at the sight of the woman. Both her and her wife had been the pair that knew what you had been through since your divorce and she was one of the two people that saw behind the façade you had decided to show the world.
“How are you holding up?” She inquired.
“Doing better.” You assured her. “Just a slight problem but nothing I can’t deal with now.”
“Oh no. Is your ex-husband bothering you again? I told you to just say the name and I’ll find some dirt on him in a heartbeat.”
You chuckled, knowing how that would be close to impossible with the man’s stand and rank in the Taskforce.
“Simon Riley.” You said instead and watched the way her eyes widen upon realization.
“Why did I not put two and two together?” She snorted realizing the small misjudgment on her part. “Does John know?”
You shook your head. You didn’t know how, but in the weeks of working at the base, you had been successful enough not to let the small detail spill. It was for both of your sakes and you feared that if you told the man, you would be fired and not him, not that you would want him to choose between the two of you.
“It would be a shame if John couldn’t keep you working for him because of your past with Ghost. I’m actually able to see his files being sent to me on time for once and he’s less stress in this past week for once.”
You blushed, knowing that that was a compliment, something that was rarely spoken by one Kate Laswell in the years of working for her wife.
“I genuinely don’t want to go either.” You spoke honestly. “Even with the situation.”
“Will you keep the information to yourself for now?” She inquired. “What does Ghost think of this?”
“I haven’t talk to him since I’ve gotten here.” You spoke honestly. “And I think it would be better if don’t talk to him about it either.”
“Talk to who about?”
Both of you had jerked your head towards the owner of the voice and it was Price with your husband, Soap, and Gaz in tow. You looked panicked at Kate hoping she could help you out this predicament with the man in the very room with them.
“My wife’s been asking how she’s been holding up since the divorce and if she’s gotten around to talking to her ex.” Kate brushed off and you wanted to face palm yourself, not the answer you were hoping for her to give.
“Wait you were married?” Gaz piped in with surprise.
“Was.” You corrected, eyes glancing towards Simon for a moment before turning your attention right back to the younger man. “But it’s nothing to worry about, you know how Kate’s wife is.” You tried your best to reassure everyone.
“Well that bloke lost something good that’s for sure.” Soap quipped right back with a flirty wink. You’ve learned this was the default with the man. “Right Lt?”
Both you and Kate found yourself looking at the man and it somehow clicked to him that you both were now more than aware of the currently predicament that fell before you and without another word left the office, slamming the door behind him.
To this very day, Simon still can’t understand why he had signed those papers. Why didn’t he just talk with you and made a compromise. Instead he became an asshole that avoided any forms of communications with you until he was left with no other choice but divorce papers waiting for him at home and every single trace of you no longer in the home you two once shared.
In the deepest depths of his bedside drawer was the divorce papers that officially separated him from you, the two ring boxes that housed his wedding ring and the engagement ring he had bought for you. Around his neck, alongside his Dog tag was your wedding ring—the same wedding ring you had left on top of the coffee table of your home, with the divorce papers right under it.
It was his fears that finally came to life and he truly didn’t know why his body automatically signed without even reaching out to you first. To this day, in the years that has passed he still wonder what his life and relationship could be if he fought for your marriage.
Would he still be married to you right now? Would the two of you finally have the family you had always wanted? Maybe by now your first kid would have been three, he had always dreamed of having a daughter. A darling little girl that was a spitting image of you, a daughter he would protect with his life over and over again.
That could have been his life, but he was far too stupid for his own good. He was too much of a bastard that ruins everything good that comes into his life. He pays the price every single night he comes home to his apartment—empty and lacked the warmth that only you could ever give to someone like him.
He made his bed and he was sleeping in tears because of it.
“There he is, good you’ve got your arse here, LT.”
Another one of the mistakes he seems to be making in his life was joining the rest of the team in the pub and realizing that you have come to join them this time around.
Bloody fucking hell you were as beautiful as the first day he had ever laid eyes on you. There was the twinkle in your eyes he had once thought he had diminished as you continued on with whatever conversation you were having with Gaz with Price listening on. You had on your favorite red crepe dress that slightly showed some cleavage but not enough to be indecent, with your favorite locket that he had brought for you while you were still dating, and the first ever expensive Cartier watch you had brought for yourself (which Simon would have more than willingly bought for you if you allowed it) while saving up your checks.
Fate was nothing but a cruel sick man for giving this sight of you in front of him and never allowing him the taste he always craved. A gift that wasn’t his to accept—anymore.
“You know how traffic is, Johnny.” He muttered finding himself sitting beside the man and in the process finding himself sitting right in front of you in the process.
“Bullshit,” Soap snorted. “Stopped by a bonnie we didn’t know about?”
Simon glanced towards you, the momentary hurt that passed through your eyes before you continued on with your conversation with Gaz, now hearing you were both talking about your Uni days and how you found yourself involved with working for Laswell’s wife all those years ago.
“Don’t have the time nor the energy for another headache in my life.” He spoke realizing that it was the wrong thing to say with you in front of him. He could have said it if you were not here, but not in your presence, it diminishes every single thing he had ever had with you.
It wasn’t what he meant but he couldn’t truly take it back.
“I can second that.” You spoke finally meeting his eyes this time. An unrecognizable look in your eyes as you stared right at him. “And this is coming from someone that’s already made a mistake of ever getting married to a man in the military.”
This has opened the floodgate for everyone in the table to question you about your apparent divorce. He had no one else to blame for this than himself. He listened in now as you continued on answering questions about your relationship with him and the eventual divorce, but made sure it was vague enough not to have fingers pointed at him.
“So, you loved the man more than life itself and all that, why divorce?” Soap had asked the million dollar question.
“It’s gets tiresome to love someone that doesn’t want to help himself.” You spoke honestly. “Year of trying to understand him, only to push shoved away over and over again, it hurts and it gets tiresome. I just had to go before the love turns to hate.”
In the years since the divorce, there was never closure between the two of you. The forms of communications that you both had were mostly about him being deployed again or of you and your plans of moving around or changing careers. Never did either of you had the much needed closure that you both deserved—until now, not directed at him.
“If any of you ever attempt getting involved with a guy or girl make sure you’re serious about the relationship a hundred percent, not fifty, not seventy-five, not even fucking ninety. Because that small fraction you’re not giving them might be the very reason why everything falls apart.”
Simon finds himself blinking at the words that now escaped your lips. The downright resentment that still lingered in your tongue even after everything that had occurred between the two of you. He shouldn’t have signed those fucking divorce papers.
Marriage Counseling, they should have had marriage counselling like you had begged from him all those years ago.
He stood, excusing himself to order the next round of drinks. He doesn’t have it in him anymore to listen to your words cutting him to the very core.
One of the biggest mistake about accepting Price’s offer of going out with the rest of the team for a quick drink was forgetting your non-existing alcohol tolerance. As the drink was now swimming through your blood stream, your lips become looser and there were few moments were you had almost spilled the fact that your ex-husband just happens to be sitting in front of you in the table you shared with the rest of 141.
“You sure you’ll be alright to head home on your own?” Your boss has inquired the moment it was announced the pub was closing up for the early morning.
You nodded with a smile, but the warmth that you were certain painted your skin and the dazed eyes, you were all too sure that it would be a big mistake for you to do. Go knows how dangerous it would be for a drunk like you to head home all on your own.
“I’ll take her home.” Simon announced and before you could protest, John had nodded agreeing that it would be the best thing to do and you couldn’t protest or show even a smidge of irritation as you were given a death glare by your ex-husband.
“Thank you for letting me join you guys.” You spoke towards your boss, the giggly duo of Soap and Gaz. “I’ll text once I get home.” You promised them following Simon out of the pub.
You took a deep breath as the cool morning air sobered you up for a moment as you waited for the man with his car. Frowning when you realized the man didn’t have his car with him but rather his death machine known as his motorcycle.
“Here.” He muttered practically shoving an all too familiar helmet towards you.
Like quick work, you had put on the helmet, ensuring to adjust the strap before the man does. You were still unprepared to be in close proximity with the man but here you were.
Watching him pull down the foot peg, he turned to you waiting for you to ride him—ride his motorcycle. With a deep breath you rode behind him, the skirt riding up your legs and he was quick to pull it down for your own decency before revving the engine on.
“Hold on tight.” He ordered and your body was on autopilot as you wrapped your arms around his waist as he sped off.
You know it was the alcohol but you find yourself smelling him, the all too familiar smell of his musk and cologne—the same cologne you had given him when he told you were promoted to Lieutenant. Your head rested on his back, cheek squished against the expansion of his back, feeling the way his back tense at your touch as it had the same effect for you feeling his warmth all over again.
“Where?” He questioned you as the bike halted at the stoplight.
You slurred your words, but you did your best to tell him directions to where your apartment was. Your sober self would have slapped you at the back of the head for letting Simon know about your whereabouts, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to know anymore.
For a moment as the winds blew against your cheeks, you were brought back to the memories of your time together. How you feared his driving and his bike more than anything else in the world but every single time he made sure you were at your safest with him, always did even in this moment.
You remembered the dates you would both have at night when he was at his most sleepless. By the park, your arms wrapped around him as his head rested on your shoulders. How you had carried so much of his nightmare even when you truly knew nothing but what he would let you know which wasn’t much and would only be in the instance that you would have accidentally heard during his nightmares.
You remembered how tired you were as much as you loved him, how much he had meant the world to you in that very moment but slowly but surely it wasn’t the same anymore. You felt the resentment before the anger for everything he wasn’t willing to give you. You gave him everything thing but he could barely give you anything in return.
“We’re here.” Simon announced, pulling away from him you turned and he was right. You were back in your apartment and you didn’t realize how fast time has flown since as you were deep in your thoughts.
Hopping down the bike with the man helping you, you turned to him and your mouth moved before you could stop yourself.
“Want to head inside—for coffee at least as a thank you?”
“I think coffee and a conversation would be the best thing for the both of us to do at this point in time, Love.”
You felt your pulse quicken as everything single thing you had talked about in the pub was coming back to bite you in the ass. Simon has his ulterior motive after all for wanting to escort you back home.
All you did was nod, heading to the door with the man following closely behind. You felt your hands shaking but you had succeeded in keying the door open. Opening the door for him, you walked further inside, opening the lights and toeing off the flats you had on.
You placed your wallet and keys on the coffee table and found yourself sitting on the couch waiting for the man to follow you.
You heard Simon close the door, the sound of the lock being turned and the sound of his leather jacket had you worried for what was to come.
“I fucking take you seriously with the bloody helmet still on your head.” He pointed out as he stood right in front of you, unclasping the helmet from your head and for the first time in a long time, you saw him up close and the way the darkness of his eye bags was the most prominent about him—it had gotten so much worse than when you were still married. Was it because of you?
“Sorry.” You mumbled as you watched him place the helmet on top of the coffee table alongside most of your things.
“Where’s the kitchen?”
You pointed towards you left and the man had made himself at him. The sound of cupboard being opened and the all too familiar muttering of horrible instant coffee you always wanted was heard. You wanted to let out a giggle but the sudden fear of the reality of your decision brought back something you never thought you would ever relive.
You sigh elbows digging onto your thighs, as your slumped your face into your hands. Why did you offer to have him here? Why did you accept the offer of him taking you back home? Why did you accept Kate’s offer of working for John? Why did you decide to divorce Simon?
In your own mini-panic attack, the smell of vanilla latte had you pulling away from your hands and you saw the cup of coffee already in the table and Simon was already sitting in front of you, without the surgical mask and without the figurative mask he was wearing at the base.
“Why are you doing this to me?” He questioned.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of all the places you could work why the base?”
“It’s not like I knew you were working for Price.” You snort. “It was Kate that suggested I work there—a new environment for me after everything that happened.”
Kate had called it her own version of exposure therapy. You truly appreciated her help even after knowing your ex-husband was working there in the same vicinity as you.
“You could have left?”
You snort. Aside from everything that came with the military, the money was too good to leave—but that was not something you would want to discuss with Simon knowing his intent to still provide for you even with the ink on the divorce papers were still drying.
“Why would I? You and I have nothing between us.” You spoke, knife sharp as his own words of calling you a headache to him.
“What you said to the team is that the real reason why you filed for divorce?”
All you could do was nod.
“You could have talk to me that you weren’t happy anymore we could have made it work.”
“No you won’t, Si.” You shook your head, arms crossed against your chest, you feared the words that would be thrown between the two of you now especially at your state. “I would have made it work.”
“What do you want me to do then? What could I have done then? You say one thing but mean something else?”
“Because every single time I wanted you to open up to me, you closed yourself up even more!” You spat right at him now. “Do you know how hard it was for me to bare myself to you about the shit in my life and in my family only to be reciprocated with how your family was fucked up but not an explanation for it?”
“That’s none of your business.” His voice grows dark, it was a sensitive topic.
“Then why were we even married if it wasn’t my business?” Your voice growing louder now, exasperated by this conversation. “What was the use of our vows if you would keep the smallest things a secret from me?”
“It’s not fucking small!” He screamed right back at you and you instinctively flinched at his voice then. Why was he being so cruel to you now?
“When I married you, I accepted you for who you are, I accepted that you can’t truly tell me what your missions were about or about whatever details about your deployment were. But even just something, anything that would make me believe that I was something more than a whore you could fuck and a maid that would take care of the house and cook you fucking food would have been appreciated.”
“You were my wife, wasn’t that enough?”
“No it was not, Simon.” You spat. “You never made me feel like I was truly your wife when you shut yourself down after coming home to me. You weren’t the same man that I had accidentally spilled coffee on when we first met.”
“If you knew me for the things I’ve been through you wouldn’t look at me the same way.”
“And how would you know that?” You questioned him. “How could you think for me when you don’t even know what I would think of you after everything we’ve been through?”
“You want to know the truth?”
“Yes. Maybe that way I can finally move on from anything that has to do with you.”
You know that was the wrong thing to say as the man cracked his neck and began to talk. About his life, about the abuse he had to endure at the hands of his father. He began to talk about the new beginning of his life when his father died and everyone tried their best to recover. He told you of his mother that he loved more than anything else at that point, of his brother, of his sister-in-law, and of his young nephew Joseph.
He told you about how he was finally at peace with the trauma of his life back then before things gotten to hell and back. He told you of the man named Roba, he told you of the abuse he had to once again go through at the hands of Roba’s men, physically, mentally, and sexually. He told you why he hated confined spaced after being buried alive in a coffin with a man named Vernon, a rotten corpse that he had to use the jaw of to escape death.
He told you of the death of his family, of Marcus Washington killing his family. Killing his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew that didn’t deserve being involved in anything the mission was about. He told you how he had to burn the bodies of what was left of his family and his identity in the process. You learned then why he was called Ghost and what it had meant for him and his past that continued to haunt him.
You were left stunned, unable to form words about everything that has happened to your husband. But it was the fact that now everything about him made sense. All the little things about his personality of why he was the man that sat in front of you today. It all made sense and it scared you that he was right. How you truly didn’t know what to say or what to feel now that you’ve learned of his past that he tried so hard to hide from you.
“Happy?”
“Don’t be cruel, Simon.” You whispered now, the tears were slowly forming from your eyes now, you wanted to cry for him, to mourn the family that he had lost and for adding yourself into the pain he was now enduring.
“Cruel?” He laughed, no humor in his words, malice was more evident. “What’s cruel is you still using my last name and airing out our dirty laundry to the men I work with instead of talking to me first.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shook your head, stung by his words. He was right but you weren’t going to admit it right now. A small ounce of pride still clawing its way out of you. “And you know why I still used your last name.”
It was your family. You wanted to erase was little traces of your family remained. Even in the divorce, you always had it in mind to remain a Riley. It was better than having to be the ghost of your former self all over again.
He stood now, knowing it was all he needed to know. He walked away but somehow a lingering thought had you opening your lips all over again.
“Why didn’t you fight for me, Si? Why did you sign the papers back then if you truly didn’t want to break up?”
“Because no matter how much I loved and needed you in my life, I will always choose your happiness before my own.” He answered, opening the door and leaving.
The sound of his bike echoing as you were left to mourn the closure of your relationship with the man that had meant the world to you. With all the regret finally coming full force you were left knowing that you had broken the man more than he already was and there was no turning back from it anymore.
It’s been well over a year now since you have been hired as Captain John Price’s secretary. Things were slowly but surely getting better for you and your career. Since the day you had talked with Simon, you wouldn’t say things between the two of you were getting better but you were civil with each other. You’ve interacted with him a few times, especially when it came to paper works but nothing more was said between the two of you.
Even with Price’s rule of not getting yourself involved with anyone in the team, it was becoming a mission for both Gaz and Soap to set you up with people on the base. Doctors or medics were somehow their number one target for you, but every single time, you find yourself relenting to just one date but never pushing for something more.
After knowing the truth about your ex, you didn’t have the heart to be so cruel to him more than you already were working in the base as him. Your free time away from base were spent with hobbies you had while still being married to Simon, baking and journaling, it was relief to be able to do it now with a new light was shed to the events of your marriage failing. You’ve also come to accept the offer of Kate’s wife’s therapist. It was a big help to be able to talk to someone else about everything you’ve been through.
You’ve learned to accept that you had your own mistake in the failure of your marriage just as much as Simon did. But your therapist has also come to mention that you needed to begin your own journey of healing from the what ifs of it, and live in the aftermath as painful as it was for you now.
“That dangerous?” You found yourself fearing for the worse at the conversation you were having with your boss as he explained to you the vague details of the upcoming mission him and the rest of the Task Force had for today.
With the chaos of prepping and planning, your boss was constantly on his feet and you were following him every step away for most of it to field calls and handle most of the paperworks to be sent out to sign and shipped to the higher ups. But to know a glimpse of what was happening and how your ex-husband would be involved in all of this worried you more than you would like to admit.
“It is what it is, if it meant a safer and better world, we would do it over and over again.” He explained.
“Just be careful, I still want to keep my job and I can’t if you’re dead, Boss.” You teased.
“Laswell can still be able to deal with you if I’m gone.” He retorted right back earning a quick laugh from you.
One thing that you had gotten so used to was his humor and how you had showcased your own as time went by working for the man. You appreciated him for being one of the two best bosses you had ever had in your career.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the mission?” You quipped right back.
“I should.” He chuckled standing right up in his full height. “Can you go check on the boys for me while I do?”
You could have refused, but a small part of you wanted to check up on Simon. Standing up, you had made your round, first stopping by Soap’s room to check up on him and notify him about the mission. Soap being the man that he was already suggesting you another man in the base beforehand.
“How about Micah? Pretty bloke that just joined the Medic team.” He began shoving the rest of his things into his duffle bag.
“Johnny, for the last time, I’m not into those pretty type you think I’m into.” You tried to indulge him in the conversation for now knowing it would ease him from the mission.
“What is your type so me and Gaz could actually find someone for you?” He pouted.
“Tall, blonde, dark and broody and with a heavy Manchester-accent.” You indulged him with description of the only man you actually loved.
“Why the fuck are you describing Ghost?” He snorts. “You got a thing for him? I thought you swore off anyone from the military?”
“Never said it was Ghost, Johnny.” You quipped right back. You hugged him and have him wrap his arms around you right back. “Be careful for me will you, I can’t live my life here in the base knowing you or Gaz aren’t here trying to set me up with anyone and everyone in the base including the married ones.”
“Hey we didn’t know Wilson was married.” He protested as he pulled away to look at you in offense.
“At this point I’ve already had dinner with half of the base, let’s keep it to a minimum when you get back. I might show you my ex so you can have an idea of what my type is.”
“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on top of the head before leaving to head to the meeting room.
You next stop was Gaz which wasn’t much of a journey with how close his room was to Soap’s. Knocking inside, you were immediately welcomed into the arms of Gaz. Unlike Soap that had been fixated with setting you up with someone in the base, Gaz was more focused on the next get together you could go to after the mission.
“I think me and Soap could convince Price to have a weekend in his vacation house in Cornwall.”
You nodded knowing it wouldn’t take much to convince Price if it meant helping the rest of the team with de-stressing and ensuring everyone has recovered mentally from the mission. But it also meant that you would be in charge of cooking knowing you and Price were the only ones that knew how to cook and you wanted your boss to actually have time to recover himself in the process.
“As long as you help me with grocery and prepping then you got a deal.” You winked pulling away from him with a smile already excited to bake them your famous apple pie they constantly beg you to make for them since the first time making it for them.
“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on the cheeks and just like Soap, finding himself heading out with his bag already at hand.
It now meant you had one last person you needed to stop by before the mission prep. You took your time somehow rehearsing what you could probably say to the man for his upcoming mission. You had your worry and you knew this was a dangerous mission.
Knocking on his door, you heard the gruff response from the other side of the door.
“Simon?” You called and immediately heard the door being unlocked.
You were faced with him wearing his skull balaclava mask. This was the side of him that you never gotten used to see but it was a part of him that you could never truly erase from him.
“What’s wrong?” He asked you allowing you to walk inside.
“Price told me to notify you about heading out for the mission.” You explained. “And I just—I just wanted to ask you to be careful on the mission.”
“Always.” He nodded.
A moment of silence has passed between the two of you before you were reminded of your therapist’s words. There was nothing wrong if you extended an olive branch to the man after everything was out in the open.
“After the mission, I would love to have you join us in Price’s cabin in Cornwall for a quick vacation too.” You added. “I know you’re busy with whatever you need to do to distress after a mission, but I would think it would be good to you if you joined. I can opts this one out if you’re more comfortable with that.”
“I’d go.” He nodded. “But I want you to join along and I want you to make me that lovely cheesecake you always make for me after I come home from deployment.”
You smiled knowing that it was always the same, a way to a man’s heart is always through his stomach.
“Anything else you want?” You asked wanting to give in to his all too simple request.
“And I want us to at least be friends, you’re part of the team now and they care for you and it wouldn’t do anyone good for us to act like we can’t stand each other.”
You nodded, heart aching a little at what he wanted. Friends. That was all he wanted and you would gladly compromise this time for him if that was what makes him truly happy.
“Friends.” You smiled, taking a hesitant step towards him for a hug but stopped mid movement as he pulled you right into his arms. The all too familiar warmth that consumed him.
“I wished things would have been different between the two of us.” He whispered kissing the top of your head. “I’d give you the world when I couldn’t give you myself fully.”
You closed your eyes wrapping your arms around his broad back.
“I wished I was strong enough for the two of us.” You whispered the tears slowly forming your eyes. “I wished I stayed a little longer for the two of us.”
“I never stopped loving you, Love. We might not be married anymore but you will be the only woman I will ever love truly with all my life and with all my soul.”
“You too, Si.” You whispered looking up at him allowing the tears to flow freely from your eyes now. “After everything that had happened between us, I will always love you.”
It was the middle of the night when you heard the familiar ringtone of your old phone. The same phone that only Simon knew the number to. You blinked away the sleep as you pulled the phone right out of the bedside table.
An unfamiliar number took you by surprise and for a moment you wanted to not answer it thinking it might be a telemarketer—but something had pushed you to press the answer button and hear whoever was on the other line.
“Hello?” You whispered clearing your throat.
“Mrs. Riley?” The familiar voice of John had you tensing. You found yourself sitting up from the bed as he began to introduce himself and why he had called.
“What happened to Simon?” You questioned checking your bedside clock to see what time it was.
It was just past midnight, three weeks since they had left for their mission and this was the first time you had gotten any contact to any one of them.
“As of right now, we are not sure if he would make it through the night. If you want we could have you someone fetch you to see him.”
You felt your world still at the news. Just when things were finally moving into the right direction between you and Simon.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You assured hanging up and changing into some sweatshirt and sweatpants.
The travel to the now familiar base was a daze to you as you drove. You weren’t much of a religious person, but your lips did not stop moving as you prayed. You prayed that your husband would be alright, you bargained that you would make things right with him if it meant he would stay.
“Don’t leave me, Simon.” You whispered over and over again until you arrived to the base.
You had ignored most of the surprise that the soldier on duty had shown at your sudden appearance—the fact that you were in just your ratty clothes was also something you chose to ignore as you made a beeline to where the infirmary was.
Huddled in front of the door was your boss, John, Soap, and Gaz. Each and every single one of them injured in their own way—mostly superficial from the bandages that plastered all over their beaten faces.
“John.” You called having three heads turning to you in question. “How is he?” You questioned as the tears begin to fall from your eyes at the reality of the situation coming to crush you. “How is my husband?”
The realization washed over all of them, of the secret you and Simon had hidden from everyone. The weight was too much as you were wrapped in the arms of the family you had found yourself becoming a part of.
“Will he be alright?” You pleaded, holding onto John’s vest. “Please tell me he will be alright.” You begged falling to your knees in front of him.
“The doctors are doing their best, Love.” John reassured kneeling in front of you, wrapping you into his arms as you continued to sob. “But Simon took most of the impact from the explosion.”
The reality scared you so much. You tried you best to remember the last interaction you had with Simon, the hug, the promise of a new beginning, and everything else in between. It all came crashing down to this very point.
There was a very big chance that you will finally lose Simon and it scared you so much more than anything in this world. You couldn’t lose him, not like this, not when there was so much left between the two of you to make up for.
“He can’t leave me, John.” You whimpered. “He promised me he wouldn’t leave me like this.” You screamed at the top of your lungs.
You were made aware of the vows you had made to each other when you got married at the court house. Of how he had promised to the best of his abilities that he wouldn’t die in the line of duty before he could have the chance to retire. He promised you a family, he promised you the world, and he promised you your happiness. He was your family, he was your world, and he was your happiness that you realize only when it was too late.
For the next few weeks, the world around you had become blur. You were now much of a permanent fixture of the Taskforce’s base. Morning and the afternoon was spent still working for Price, especially with the piling number of paperworks the mission had caused and your nights were spent in the infirmary, watching over Simon that has yet to awake from his slumber.
When the doctors had given you the green light that you can see him—it took you hours before you did. Even after John, Soap, and Gaz had finished with their own visit, it took so much of what little strength you had to finally see him in his state.
Broken bones, laceration, head trauma, blood loss and amongst the other injuries that the doctors has informed you should have killed him but he was still alive even in his current state. He still had fight in him, he was still fighting to keep alive.
“I’ve come to realize that post-mission Price was a whole different breed of a grump, more than he usually is.” You began talking to your still unconscious ex.
The doctor had told you about him being able to hear your voice and you took the opportunity to talk his ear off with him unable to give his usual sarcastic comments or grunts as response. There were days you told him about your day at work, days where you told him about what you had been doing since you left your home and tried and failed to move on from him, and there were days where you apologized to him, regretting the divorce and everything else that been the reason for the demise of your marriage.
“I think since the divorce I’ve realized a lot of shit about us.” You sighed leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair. “If you wake up, I’ll try to do my best to convince you to take me back.” You mused arms crossed against your chest. “I know you don’t have as much of a happy memory after what happened to your family, but when you wake up, I want to make sure we make as much happy memories as we could together, I want you to tell me about what your Ma was like, what kind of brother Tommy was like, and how adorable Joseph was, I want all of that and more with you.”
You wiped away the tears that have yet to fall, you didn’t want to cry. You thought that you didn’t have any more tears to shed. The gravity of almost losing Simon was the wakeup call you needed and now it was nothing more than a waiting game until he wakes up.
“I fucking can’t be your friend, Si.” You admit. “I can’t be happy with just being your friend. I want you to be my husband again, Si. After almost losing you I know I can’t live knowing we haven’t fixed our relationship. I’ll do anything and everything to make it up to you, all the pain and hurt I’ve caused you.”
“Anything?”
You almost jumped from where you sat at the sight of the man whose eyes were now focused on you.
“Simon?”
“Am I just high or did you say what you did?”
“What?”
“That you would make up for everything?” He muttered groggily.
“I did.” You nodded blinking in disbelief that he was here, awake. Alive.
“Then marry me. Let me make it right this time, Love. I promise I’ll make it work, I’ll do my best to make you happy the way that you deserve.”
“Yes.” You answered almost immediately, finding yourself giggling about how ridiculous his second proposal was with his current state—but you didn’t want it any other way.
He requested for you to take his dog tag around his neck off and only then did you notice that your wedding ring enclosed around his necklace. Even with the years that passed, he still had it with him. The very same ring you two had brought together before you had headed to the courthouse for your marriage.
“Can I add another stipulation?” He held onto your free hand.
“Anything.” You smiled rubbing your hand against the callousness of his hand. “Anything to make it work, Si.”
“No more blind dates from the Sergeants.”
“They could never hold a candle to you, Simon.” You giggled leaning in for a kiss, the weight that rested on your shoulders slowly easing away.
You were home, you were back in the arms of Simon after all was said and done.
#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon riley fanfic#fem reader#simon riley mw2#simon riley x female reader#cod fic#mw2 fic#mw2 x you#mw2 x reader#ghost riley#simon riley fluff#simon riley angst#simon riley fanfiction#call of duty
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— let the light in
pairing: jessie fleming x reader
synopsis: for jessie’s benefit, you end your relationship
warnings: depression, bed rotting, suicidal ideation, self depreciation, isolation, toxic!reader if you squint
a/n: take the warnings seriously and look after yourselves pls <3
as much as you knew you needed jessie, there was no way you were going to allow yourself to hold onto her so tightly. it was a repeated and ongoing cycle that you had been trapped in for years now and it seemed to only be getting worse.
“we can’t be together anymore” you murmur into your half empty cup “i can’t do it”
jessie sits across from you with her mouth agape. “if i’ve done something wrong i can fix it” she says, her voice cracking slightly as she pleads “this can be fixed, let. me. fix. it.”
a heaviness settles behind your eyes as you shake your head “there’s nothing to fix. i’m sorry”
it was as easy as walking out the door and leaving her sitting in her kitchen alone. the bag of your things had weighed your shoulder down as you dragged your feet all the way to your car, not once ever looking back in fear of turning around.
it left you here, laying in bed with the curtains drawn and your phone on do not disturb as you stare blankly at the wall. you had become a shell of the person you think you once were, someone who had hobbies and dreams, someone who wanted to build a life worth living. instead you take sick leave so that you don’t have to get out of bed, you let the dishes pile up in the sink when you do decide to eat and you clear a pathway out of your shit on the floor so you can get to your ensuite bathroom.
the numbness that had overtaken you didn’t allow you to cry, no matter how much you think you wanted too. you were drained. there was nothing left for you to give yourself. it was sick, really, the way your brain could play tricks on you and make you believe you weren’t deserving of the life that you have been given. why would you be? there was absolutely nothing to show for it. all you had was a bed with dirty sheets and a brain that told you death was better than anything else you have ever experienced.
your therapist had told you once that because you hadn’t acted on it, it was merely a way for you to cope without committing. a way to wallow, to escape, from a life that you weren’t ever sure you wanted in the first place. she said that people who have depression but don’t kill themselves will fantasise about it but not pick a date or a means to an end.
only, at one point, you had picked a date. you had closed your eyes and twirled your finger in the air before landing on a wednesday two weeks away. you’d marked it with a red dot and then began clearing out things you didn’t want, giving your belongings to charity or throwing them away before neatly organising what you had left. you thought that your family could decide what to do with them. you didn’t care, you were gonna be dead after all.
it was when your coffee machine had finally broken on you that morning did jessie come swinging into your life. you decided to go to a local coffee shop you liked when she pushed the door open too hard and smacked you square in the face. she had gone bright red and apologised profusely, telling you that the door had slipped out of her grip and that she didn’t even see you. you, with a hand pressed firmly to your forehead, had told her that it was okay, that it was just an accident.
maybe it was her smile, or the way her eyes looked when you actually made eye contact, but something about the canadian had stopped you dead in your tracks. she asked if you wanted to sit with her with the promise of not hitting you in the face again, to which you agreed with a laugh. you began telling eachother about yourselves, from where and how you grew up to hobbies and small quirks you had. when the topic of careers had come around you sheepishly told her that you didn’t watch football beyond the odd match when it was already on tv, and she had beamed at you and cheekily said that she’ll make a blue out of you in no time.
you didn’t go through with it, obviously, and jessie still doesn’t know that she quite literally saved your life that day. your relationship with jessie quickly blossomed and bloomed, soon becoming the most grounding thing in your life. jessie showed you that she loved you long before she told you and never once did she make you feel like you weren’t loved, there were just times where you knew you were hard to love.
like in the beginning when you’d practically ghosted her for three days and then came back with a half assed explanation and a bouquet of flowers; or when you’d completely shut her out and pretend like nothing was wrong when she could see the bags under your eyes and the mess around your apartment. you knew that her friends had told her that it wasn’t a good relationship to be in, that maybe you weren’t who she thought you were. she had brushed them off and ran back to you time and time again.
looking back on it you think that maybe it’s because she knew how bad it was getting, like she caught onto your badly kept secret before you even knew you really had one. when you had initially told her about your depression you insisted that you were doing a lot better and that even though you would have times of relapse, it was nothing compared to how it had been in the past.
the lie had kept up until there were things you were too ashamed to explain to her. like why she couldn’t come over or why you looked like you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few weeks. you didn’t know how to tell the footballer that your mental health had sipped out of your control, that you needed help and didn’t know how to ask for it. you didn’t know how to look your own girlfriend in the eye and tell her that you needed her.
that was when you knew it had to end.
when jessie came around to collect her things you just left them in a box outside your front door. you heard her knock but didn’t move from your position as she left with the last pieces of her you had.
she wasn’t stupid, despite the fact that for most of your relationship you clearly thought she was. she noticed the change in your behaviour and how you didn’t go out with friends as much or eat enough. she noticed the late night and even later mornings, the pile of dirty laundry you’d been putting off and the pills you tried to hide.
jessie wasn’t stupid.
when she pleaded to you to fix it, she meant fix you. she wanted you to take the weight off your shoulders and put it on hers because hers are stronger than yours anyway, they can hold more. she wanted you to let her help with the laundry, and to help clean your place. she wanted you to let her wash your hair and make you a good home cooked meal. jessie wanted nothing more than for you to be vulnerable with her, to admit that you needed her just this once.
as much as you adored her, absolutely worshiped the ground she walked on, you weren’t going to do that for her. jessie has a decorated career, one to be proud of, and the last thing she needed was to worry about whether or not you were going to get out of bed in the morning. she didn’t need the extra weight from your baggage dragging her down.
she deserved better, someone who could get up early enough to go for coffee after her morning run, someone who could actually make dinner with her and eat it, someone who didn’t have to create a fucking pathway from their bed to their bathroom because they haven’t cleaned their room in god knows how long. jessie deserved someone worth loving and in your mind, that someone just wasn’t you.
#pegs writes#pegs woso#jessie fleming#jessie fleming x reader#jflem#jessie fleming imagine#jessie fleming fic#jessie fleming angst#jessie fleming blurb#woso#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso angst#woso blurb
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Still sticking with the idea that TMAGP is dealing with adapted versions of the fears. I do like the theory that they’re desires now but I feel so far in a lot of the statements they still have terror at the back of their minds (ie mr plant man). Maybe part of the adaptation (other than being more modernised) is how they draw people in.
+ it would be a cute lil thing for peope who know the fears from tma while also being smth new that doesn’t need context to understand. Like yeah this is now a chicken but to evolutionary nerds it still has aspects of a dinosaur (wtf am I writing idk)
#maybe I’m just holding onto the fears too much#I’m going to lose my mind#ignore the metaphor at the end idk what I’m on about#tmagp#tma#the magnus archives#the magnus protocol#theory#kinda
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okay questionable thoughts… Hybrid Tiger Sukuna… But… what if we gave him catnip? Cus I’ve seen videos of it working on tigers and I’m a bit cray cray-
Oh nooo!!! This drives me all kinds of FERAL!! I wrote the following in a horny daze lmaoo. I would give so much to be Tiger Hybrid Sukuna's owner who gets that gorgeous tiger-cock ;) Thank you so much for sending me this!!
Tiger Hybrid!Sukuna x Reader (female). 18+, smut, rough sex, creampie, mentions of breeding + risk of pregnancy if reader gives Sukuna more catnip in the future, dubcon on both sides, drugs. Minors don't interact. Divider @/hitobaby
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who is usually so in control, acting all aloof and majestic. But you give him catnip, and he loses all that control. You thought it would be cute to see him loosen up and become more playful, but you didn't expect him to become so wild.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who tackles you to the floor with a needy growl. Who presses you down with his heavy body, his large tail swishing from side to side excitedly, his pupils blown wide, his hot spit dripping down onto your neck. And his large bulge growing hard against your ass.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who loses his ability to talk in the state he is in now and just growls and purrs while he nuzzles his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent deeply, his lips and tongue and sharp canines leaving their marks on your skin while he ruts against you, needy like never before.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who scares you a bit when he goes crazy like that. This big, strong half-tiger, with those strong muscles and the sharp teeth and claws. And with that huge, strong cock. But your fear mixes with arousal, and you find yourself hoping your tiger will claim you thoroughly tonight.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who isn't even in the right mind to undress you but just tears at his and your clothes, ripping them to shreds in his primal need to mount you.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who pushes his hot, fat cock between your wet cunt, coating himself in your arousal, grunting and growling wildly against your neck while he ruts his throbbing tiger-cock against your heated cunt.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who bites your neck when he pushes his leaking cock into your dripping cunt, groaning loudly against your skin, instantly starting a punishing rough pace of fucking you. Mounting you so wild and hard right there on the floor.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who is so sexy like that, out of control, wild and feral like never before. More animal than man. Who snaps his hips fast and erratically, purely driven by his animal instinct to fuck and breed and fill a mate with his potent seed.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who holds you down and keeps his teeth on your neck while he fucks all his tiger-cum deep into you. Growling loudly while he mates you as if you are his fertile tigress.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who makes you lose control, too, pushing your ass needily against him, wanting all his hot seed and the feel of his heavy balls slapping against you. Making you squeal loudly when you cum all over his fat tiger-cock.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who pulls out of you with a low groan and then kneels on the floor behind you with a blissed-out expression on his beautiful face, not as feral anymore but still high on the catnip. His gorgeous cock softening but still glistening with your creamy juices and his milky seed, his dark pink tip still swollen.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, whose whole muscular body trembles lightly as the effects of the catnip wear off. Whose long, pretty tail is twitching suddenly when those glowing red eyes bore into yours with a dangerous glint in them.
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who growls at you, "Never do that again!" And when you ask him why, he glares at you and is like, "Because who knows what I'll do next time. Maybe I'll breed you until you have my cubs."
++ Tiger Hybrid Sukuna, who calms down again when you tell him you are ok, and he didn't hurt you. Who finally purrs when you scratch him behind his ears and at the base of his pretty tiger tail and promise him that you won't give him catnip ever again, even though you quite enjoyed his wild side.
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#sukuna#ryomen sukuna#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#sukuna x y/n#tw hybrids#tw pregnancy#tw dubcon#tw drugs
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Mind Games
pairing: wanda maximoff x female reader
word count: 2.6k?
summary: gf!wanda maximoff; reader makes a joke about Wanda invading their mind while they have sex, Wanda takes it a little too seriously and y/n makes it up to her with apologies and a little seduction.
warnings: 18+, two second mommy kink, slight electrocution (if that’s even what you’d call it), smut for sure, oh yeah mind reading (major), mind altering? (slight? not really, just trippy Wanda powers)
a/n: like I’ve said I DONT WRITE so help me out pls n thank yewwwww, comments and criticism send it my way; I also put a random placeholder title in with the intention to change it so if it changes,,, sorry
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“Since you’re already in my brain when we fuck…” you joke, glancing up at your girlfriend’s face.
And the reaction was not what you were expecting.
“Y/n, are you being serious right now?” Her previous smile has faded, eyebrows dropped in confusion, and the light that had just sparkled her eyes, begins to darken. In one shitty second, you’ve ruined the entire conversation.
“I- I didn’t mean it like that, it was a joke, you know, cuz… I, I just think, I kind of maybe thought-“
“What did you think? Better yet, what do you think of me, y/n?” Wanda scoots back, accustomed to people’s fear and intimidation of her powers, but you were different. From the day Tony brought you in, you’d shown loyalty to the program, and especially in her. Both of you had a sense of “uncontrollability” in your powers, causing your teammates to occasionally get alarmed. This bonded you two like no one else, until one day when you gave up and kissed her.
“Wanda, I’m sorry,” allowing her to keep the distance, but staring into green eyes, you truthfully whisper, “I don’t think anything negatively of you, I trust you more than anyone I’ll ever know. So to me it’s not an invasion of space, but I’m so sorry to ever make you feel like you’re-”
“A mind voyeur? Y/n, you know how I feel about consent and using my powers for…”
“I know! I know!” This time you inch closer, daring to place your hands in her lap. “You’re just…soo…soooo good, I didn’t know if it was all this,” your hands slowly crawl from her thighs, up to her waist, shoulders, then finally landing on her temples, “or if you just had a little bit of help. There’s just no way you know my body that well, is there?” You place a kiss on her forehead, knowing what this is doing to her.
Wanda attempts to hide the tremble her body lets out as your lips part from her skin, but you notice it all too well and decide to take things up just a notch. Slipping onto her lap, you straddle her on the couch in the Avengers compound living room.
“Y/n, what the hell are you doing?” Her voice is low, but you can hear the slight rasp in tone.
You begin attacking her neck with small, delicate kisses before speaking, “I trust you Wands and I love you so much,” another kiss, “don’t you want to know how much I love you?” and one on the jawline, “Aren’t you just a little tempted to hear all of the things I think about-” and the last one, right under her ear, “while you fuck me?”
Wanda grabs ahold of your waist, involuntarily grinding into you before collecting herself. “Hey, I thought you already were telling me everything?” Her head tilts and she gives you a warning smirk.
But you’re not allowing her to regain composure so easily, so you play the brat card. “I was, but I guess I’ll be silent from now on,” a fake pout.
She smirks at your mischievous nature and tests your words, snaking her hands up your sides. They sneak under your shirt and the feeling of her warm digits against your bare skin drives you mad. You stay strong in holding silent, even when her fingertips graze past your chest for what feels like a millisecond. Though you manage to stay quiet, you’re quivering and shuddering with each swift movement of her fingertips. Every part of you she touches leaves a trail of goosebumps and leaves you in an even more soiled state than before.
Suddenly, she stops and you’re brought back to your senses, panting and groaning on top of her, “you’re an asshole,” the joke is obvious considering your small argument before. An argument that may change our entire sex lives.
“And you kept your word!” Wanda removes her hands from beneath your tee as you grin and nod at her, almost genuinely proud of your own self.
“Then it looks like I’ll need to get inside your mind, huh?” Your smile fades as the realization of the situation dawns on you. If you could see yourself, you were sure your eyes had turned black with lust, but everything happened so quick there was no time to care.
“We’re not doing this here,” Wanda quickly bolts up from the couch, with you still gracefully in her lap, and whisks the two of you away to your shared room down the hall. Before you even know it, she’s on all fours above you and you’re pressed into the sheets of the bed.
“Tell me you want this,” once again, lustful hands are tracing the sways and curves of your body. Occasionally she plants a kiss, some harder than others, sometimes she bites and sucks, marking you as hers.
Your head rocks back and you let your mind run wild. Please, please, please, Wanda. I’m yours, mark me everywhere. I’m only yours. Take over me.
You know she’s begun making her way into your brain because that last remark causes her to stop in her tracks. “Y/n?”
When your eyes meet, you pray she’s still there— my mind is yours Wanda. You can do anything you want with me, I just want you.
The red instantly washes any reminiscence of green from her eyes and you let out a salacious moan at the sight.
Wanda crawls up for the most lustful kiss she’s quite possibly ever given you. Her tongue doesn’t bother ask for entrance as it swirls around to find yours. The two of you can’t seem to find a sweet spot to place your hands, traveling up and down both of your sides, every now and then one of you reaches up and grabs a fistful of the other’s hair, eliciting numerous whimpers. Mainly from you.
“Fuck—” you accidentally let out between kissing. Feeling her smirk against your lips you try this mind reading thing again. Fuck. Me. Wands.
A small growl chokes out of Wanda. You like this? You think as you stare at her again, the eyes turning you on more and more by each second. You like hearing my disgusting, dirty thoughts Wanda? You’re normally not this vulgar, or this submissive but you can see what it’s doing to her, which drives you insane.
Your obscenity was obviously making Wanda frantic. You’d never seen her eyes this red before. Sometimes they would tint when she came in the past, but now they were fully glowing scarlet red with no green in sight. You were sure to be soaked.
“Let’s check that, shall we?” She grinned. To your surprise, but not disappointment, she’d gotten into your subconscious thoughts. Fuck, every part of you felt exposed and in the best way.
“You don’t know this yet detka, but you’re going to like this very much,” she whispers in your ear before pinning your hands above your head. When you glance down you see small red particles dance over the tips of her fingers. “It’s not going to hurt—” she reassures your initial fear of the unknown, before her smile fades into lust and she continues, “it’s not going to hurt… at the beginning.”
Her tone and newly found dominance destroys any sense of stability you thought you had. You and Wanda have had sex before, numerous times actually, but you’d both been too nervous to show each other these, rawer sides.
She stays true to her word and starts slow. You’re both incredibly carnal, but this is still very new.
She places a kiss down on your chest, then in the exact spot you feel a slight shock. Again, a kiss that is soon replaced with a jolt. Another, this time lowering toward your waistline. Wanda annoyingly tugs at your pants and it takes you less than a second to have them off. The red eyes make contact with yours, “why don’t you just get rid of everything, baby.”
After nodding, you quickly remove the rest of your clothing articles, revealing yourself completely for her.
You’re an absolute mess underneath Wanda, whimpering and quivering as she stares down at your nude and utterly revealed self. Please, Wanda. Keep going. Harder this time.
“God, y/n—“ she moans and resumes absolutely toying with you, giving you an overwhelming mixture of kisses and shocks in between speaking. “I knew you’d like it but I didn’t realize how much I would…” she purrs and turns it up a notch, the jolts getting stronger and more aggressive with each sloppy kiss.
She trails her hand down so delicately toward where you’ve been begging. A harsh shock between your legs forces out a moan so loud you’re worried someone might have heard. Wanda immediately covers your mouth, “sorry, I could have known that was coming,” but it’s obvious she isn’t sorry as she jolts you again, even harder. Thankfully, her opposing hand is there to cover your mouth and any noise gets suppressed behind the woman’s digits.
She’s completely invaded your mind. She knows exactly what you like. All of your horrible, dirty secrets and thoughts and you can’t help but moan again at the thought. If you thought she knew you before, fuck, did she know you now.
“You’re mine, yes?” Her eyes bore into yours and the devilish grin almost sends you over the edge. You’re near done for and she hasn’t even touched you anywhere significant yet.
Struggling to get the words out over your trembling state and her nearly muzzling you, she removes her left hand, allowing you a quick moment of recollection. Her right hand traces up your body so slow it’s near torturous, “shh, patience detka.” You nearly pass out when she gets to your chest and slowly traces around your nipple. She teases it harshly for a minute, before continuing up your collarbone, to your neck and finally she rests her hand on your chin. Her eyes start to glow harder when she takes her hand and traces your lips with her fingertips. For a moment you keep your lips pursed shut, but when you look up at her you slowly drop your jaw and she slips two fingers inside.
“That’s it detka, suck. Such a good girl,” Wanda praises your efforts in lubricating her digits, allowing you to showcase skills you don’t normally use. The sight made her dizzy and she did everything in her power to apply the patience lesson to herself, instead of just taking you right then and there.
Because you were absolutely begging. She could hear it and feel it. Wanda’s powers were doing more than she even knew were possible, which is why she avoided using them in sexual circumstances. Her irrational fear that they would get out of hand.
But this was more than okay, she could hear you pleading to be filled, your moans enveloped Wanda’s mind like you were the one with magical powers. She could feel exactly where you wanted to be touched, each and every spot. But what burned the most was the feeling in her own core, which had to be the replication of what you were feeling and she notices she’s been teasing you long enough now.
She pulls her fingers from your mouth and for a second you’re disappointed. You knew she couldn’t feel it, but you’d got so caught up, it felt as if you were pleasing her. “Don’t be upset y/n, I liked it just as much as you, I just want to put these somewhere else. I think we’ll both still enjoy it.”
Though her fingers go absent from your mouth, they’re replaced by her tongue as her left hand pulls you in for second kiss. The right makes its way to your folds, slowly teasing your overly sensitive area. You’re absolutely drowning in the kiss when Wanda slowly pushes her fingers toward your entrance.
Please, please, please.
“Out. Loud.” She commands through the lustful kisses.
“P-pu-ple-“ she grazes slightly over your clit, “fuCK! Wanda,” she knows she’ll ruin you with teasing. “Fuck me. Please. I need you now Wands.”
The slight movements quickly turn into swift back and forth flicks. “Are you sure?” She questions blankly, clearly toying with you.
“God, Wanda,” trying to regain any composure, “Yes, I’ve been begging, what else do you want from me?” You manage to get out.
“I want you to finally address me how you’ve been wanting to,” she picks up her pace and your hips start to move along with her fingertips.
At first you’re truthfully confused. But it may not be confusion, your brain is actually just clouded with lust. It takes only 5 seconds of Wanda playing with your clit for you to realize what she’s talking about.
Shit.
“Don’t be embarrassed detka, it’s quite sexy. I’m rather upset you haven’t told me sooner”
Wanda…
You know of no other way to say it than in the smallest, neediest whimper you can muster, “please fuck me mommy.”
She smiles, “such a good girl,” and her two fingers drop from your clit to your entry. “Look at me,” she orders and you comply, getting completely lost in the crimson orbs. They flash once as her fingers dive inside you, eliciting lewd moans from both parties.
“God, y/n, you’re so fucking wet,” she starts slow, pumping in and out, knowing the pace destroys you, she mocks, “oh detka, you want more?”
You don’t just want more, you need more and Wanda gives just that and then some. She picks up the tempo and curls her fingertips, delicately tormenting your lower half.
Your hands grasp and pull at locks of her hair. The harder the tug, the deeper her digits descend inside you. A panting mess beneath her, Wanda locks lips with yours once again. This time it nearly takes your breath away.
She continues the rapid pace and feeling your heart rate heighten, ends the kiss for just a second to instruct, “cum for mommy, y/n.”
“Shit—” you can’t help the profanities slipping from your lips as she places hungry kisses down your jawline, “—fuck Wanda, I’m…”
“You don’t think I know?” she finds a spot and bites down unexpectedly hard, eliciting a carnal cry from you. “Now, do as you’re told, love, you’re already getting so tight for me.”
For a second you’ve forgotten that she’s been in your mind this entire time. She knows exactly where each and all of your sweet spots are and is manipulating every single one to the highest extent. Your girlfriend, who never wanted to use her powers for this was now playing and fucking with your every sense. You. Loved. It.
And just like that the orgasm completely enveloped you. Grinding and riding against her fingers, you couldn’t begin to think about who may have been hearing your jumbled whimpers, as you no longer had any control. Your incoherent string of murmurs soon were drowned out as she leans into you, your mouth finding its way into the crook of her neck. Biting down gently, she doesn’t slow her pace as she lets you ride out your orgasm and you almost come again when her hair falls over your face. You knew the Ambrette 9 smell anywhere, it was her favorite and you’ve been enamored with it ever since she walked into the boardroom and was seated next to you on a mission briefing. The smell intoxicated you the whole damn time.
“Didn’t know you’ve been into me since day one,” she giggles and gently removes the two fingers from you, drawing out yet another moan. Her hand draws slowly to her lips, where she licks you clean off her fingers.
“Quit!” Playfully pushing her hand away, “Maybe you should have just gone in my head the first day we met, huh?”
Wanda snickers at your remark and pulls the covers over the two of you, then pulls you in for a loving embrace.
“Glad I didn’t… I wouldn’t have been able to be in the same room with you and those naughty thoughts.”
#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda fanfic#wanda x y/n#dark wanda maximoff#dark wanda x reader#wanda maximoff smut#wanda x reader#wanda x you#wandasversion writes
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Robin’s always had a soft spot for Eddie Munson, but up until recently it had been in a distant kind of way; she appreciated his class clown act, the way it had a domino effect of keeping the heat off the band kids, how he hogged the spotlight for any passing douchebag’s attention.
But then they both literally dive into The Upside Down, and her appreciation reaches a whole new level.
They’re in the Wheeler’s garage, thanking their lucky stars that four bikes exist in 1983 (and yeah, Robin’s sure that if she thinks about the whole time thing for half a second more her brain will promptly melt, so she doesn’t).
Each of them are pushing their chosen bike down the driveway, in a dazed sort of silence—the high of the Lite-Brite worn off in the face of another grim journey through The Upside Down.
Steve is flagging, Robin can hear it: his breathing’s growing laboured as he walks, an occasional unsteadiness to him that’s setting her anxiety off all over again, because what if they were wrong, what if it’s really rabies, and it’s too late, it’s coursing through his veins, and he’s—they’re gonna lose him—
“Hey, Harrington,” Eddie says, swinging a leg over his saddle, “wanna race?”
“… Hmm? Sorry, what?” Steve says.
There’s not even that long of a delay in him speaking, but the pause still has Robin’s heart in her throat.
Eddie’s got one foot on a pedal now, ready to set off. He looks back at them with a shaky grin—like he’s terrified, but he’s still gonna have some fun anyway.
“I’m throwing down the gauntlet, King Steve. Bet I’ll be faster than you.”
Steve scoffs, stands up a little straighter before he mirrors Eddie, balancing on the bike with one foot on the pedal.
“How much are we betting?”
Eddie huffs. “Oh, no money involved,” he says nonchalantly. He raises an eyebrow in challenge. “This is just for the glory.”
And God, there’s that spark back in Steve’s eyes; it’s like Robin can physically see his competitive streak giving him strength.
Eddie Munson, you beautiful soul, she thinks, I could kiss you.
“Faster than me? Yeah, maybe in your dreams, Munson,” Steve says.
But Eddie’s already speeding off with a comical whoop; Steve curses as he hurriedly tries to catch up, yelling, “You dick, that’s cheating!”
“Not in my rulebook!” Eddie says with a cackle.
And for a little while, that’s enough to put Robin’s mind at ease: watching the pair of them taunt each other like kids—hearing Nancy laugh at the spectacle as she bikes alongside her.
But then she falls through the Gate, Eddie close behind her, and they freeze when Steve screams Nancy’s name with such fear.
Robin’s plunged back into a mind-numbing panic; she’s sure that her heart doesn’t even begin to slow until they’ve left the trailer park, until Steve’s control of the RV switches from ‘holy shit, we’re on the run, what have our lives become?’ to something more normal—the reliable, measured driving she’s familiar with, taking her to and from school or work.
Finally, she has time to, um… take stock. Of… things.
She wobbles her way over to Eddie, grabbing onto his elbow as Steve takes a turning.
Eddie instantly holds her up, a steadying hand around her waist. “Oh, hi. I’ve gotcha—”
“Your music isn’t actually shit,” Robin says in one breath. “I know, um, on balance, it’s probably not the worst thing I could’ve said, but the delivery was—but, you know, considering I thought Nance was literally about to die, I’d say it was, like, kinda calm all things considered, but—”
Eddie’s chuckling. “Yeah, on balance,” he echoes teasingly, “you were pretty damn funny, actually. Uh, sorry for. Um. Screaming at you? Basically?”
“Basically,” Robin agrees. “Yeah, you were like impressively loud. Not quite eardrum-rupturing level, but y’know, I don’t actually know anyone who’s really had that happen to them; Amanda Wallis said she ruptured hers at the pep rally ‘cause she was standing too close to us—the band, I mean, but—”
Eddie rolls his eyes. “Oh, that’s bull, there’s no way that’d be loud enough to—”
“—I think she just had a grudge ‘cause David C on mellophone got literally the tiniest bit of spit on her, and he was only—”
“Yeah, well, everyone knows you sit in the splash zone at your own risk.”
“Exactly! She’s had plenty of time to learn marching band protocol.”
“Uh-huh, protocol,” Eddie echoes again, with a giggle.
He’s got a nice kind of laugh, Robin thinks: one where she’s never in doubt that he’s laughing with her rather than at her.
“That stuff you do’s pretty cool,” he says; with his free hand, he actually imitates her mime of playing a trumpet. “You must have good, uh…” She can see the exact moment that he’s having second thoughts about saying it, but he forges ahead anyway, with a hilariously uncertain, “Good… lungs?”
“Fascinating attempt at a compliment,” Robin says. “Luckily for you, I accept insults as, like, equal tokens of friendship.”
Eddie does a double take. He doesn’t go so far as letting out a questioning, “We’re friends?”, but he might as well have said it anyway: his eyes widen for a moment, like someone who’s just been unexpectedly asked out to prom.
Steve takes another turning; he does it smoothly enough, but even he can’t stop the RV from moving with it, and Robin stumbles again, very nearly ends up repeating how she toppled right onto Eddie in The Upside Down.
“Woah there, you’re good,” Eddie says, “just gotta find your, uh, what’s it called? Your equilibrium.”
“I don’t have any,” Robin says, all theatrical devastation, and Eddie snorts.
“Sure you do, Buckley. Look, just take my—yeah, that’s it, then just kinda straighten up… yeah, you’ve got it.”
And yes, after a minute or so, Robin’s footing does feel more certain, but she still keeps a stubborn grip on Eddie’s elbow, just in case.
“God, d’you know what I’m gonna do when all this is over?” Eddie says.
“Pray tell.”
“I’m gonna make a list. What was it you said, Madonna, Blondie…? Whatever, I’m getting all of them, m’never getting caught out like that again.”
“I’m hoping that needing music to evade the clutches of a serial killer from an alternate dimension is, um, strictly a one-time thing.”
“Don’t care,” Eddie says. “Still buying those tapes. Just in case.”
And yeah, it’s said partly in jest, but Robin can hear that he means it. Still, it’s the most optimistic that she’s heard him be so far: making plans for after, like he can really see a way through this. Like maybe he finally knows that they’ll help him get there.
“Need a list of tapes from you too, Buckley. You and Harrington.”
Robin smiles. Her first thought is of singing Total Eclipse of the Heart from the dirt-ridden floor of a mall bathroom, but then she thinks of every car ride with Steve, every time they’ve turned up the radio to belt along, and she knows that there are way too many songs to count.
“Forget a list,” Robin says, “I could fill a book. Same for big boy over there.”
Eddie blinks, like he’s suddenly taking stock, too. “Oh yeah,” he says, laughing lightly, “I did say that, huh?”
“Sure did. I was doubting my ears, too.”
Robin had been hoping they’d long since reached the point of being able to joke around with one another. But while Eddie does laugh again, he also starts biting at his thumbnail, glancing over at Steve in the driver’s seat.
“Um, hey.” Robin manages to keep her balance, briefly pressing her knee against his leg. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Eddie.”
“No, I know.” Eddie huffs self-effacingly. “I’ve kinda got permanent foot-in-mouth disease, my report cards would tell you that.”
Well, if he wants to pass it off as sometimes I just say the darnedest things, Robin would be a hypocrite to deny him.
It fascinates her in a sad sort of way though, how he veers between joking and nervousness—like he’s worried he’s intruding on their group, of overstepping somehow.
She wants to tell him: Look, we all got dragged into this, but we chose to stick around, and you’re no different.
But she no longer has the aftermath of Russian drugs to help bypass her own nerves, to kickstart her sincerity.
“Hey, you’re awfully quiet back there,” Steve calls, and Eddie startles.
Robin shakes her head. “Not us, that’s his—”
“Hello? Henderson, I’m talking to you.”
“We’re not even doing anything!” Dustin shouts back in exaggerated affront.
He’s sat on the backseat of the RV, peering out the window along with Lucas, Erica and Max. Robin stifles a chuckle at the sight; they look like they’re on a field trip—the cool kids at the back of the bus.
“Yeah, well, just checking,” Steve says, amused. “For all I know, you coulda been building a gigantic radio again on, like, the roof of this thing.”
“Cerebro,” Dustin says, just as Eddie lets out a baffled, “Uh, again?”
But then they’re pulling into The War Zone’s parking lot, and any chatter abruptly dies.
Afterwards, Steve gets off the road to park in a reassuringly deserted field. They don’t head outside right away (Robin���s not exactly looking forward to prepping Molotov cocktails), instead staying in the RV to eat junk food they’d grabbed beforehand.
Robin discovers that Dustin’s somehow bought five more cans of Pringles and snorts, declaring, “You’ve got a problem.”
At some point, Steve tries to sneak off to the bathroom so he can change his dressings—“And use actual proper bandages!” Robin calls to him; no offence to Nancy’s resourcefulness, but the torn shirt strips only do so much good.
It becomes a more comical than horrifying event, although she’s sure that’s down to Steve deliberately making it so, like a sleight of hand trick: playing it down as he keeps talking to the kids throughout, never wincing even once.
He ends up having to keep the bathroom door open to continue an argument with Erica over which Scoops Ahoy sundae was the best of all time—then figures that he might as well just step out into the open anyway.
At least the wounds have stopped bleeding—although the sight of Steve cleaning around them with bottled water is one that Robin could personally do without.
The kids are entirely unfazed. They flock to Steve, peering at the glimpses he lets them see like he’s just got a cool tattoo. Robin supposes that after El and whatever nightmare wormy thing was in her leg, they’ve seen everything.
Eddie, however, is another matter. He keeps quiet about it, not obvious at all, but Robin watches his face grow paler and paler before Steve wraps the new bandages around his stomach.
Dustin, bless his precocious little heart, must also notice, because he quickly starts up a seemingly impromptu game of charades, meaning that Eddie is soon distracted by his ridiculously over the top gestures.
“No, Steve, how are you not getting this?”
“I thought the whole appeal of this game was that you’re not meant to talk, Henderson. Dude, watch it, you nearly took Max’s eye out with… whatever the hell that was.”
“Oh my god, it’s Back to the Future, obviously! Ow, Max, I didn’t mean to—uh, yeah, the mime needs to be that big, how else am I gonna project what—”
“Dustin, I swear to god, I’m about to project you out the window,” Steve drawls.
Eddie laughs, hides it behind his hand.
But Steve must catch it, because he glances over at Eddie and winks before he’s dragged back into guessing another movie title.
And Robin’s obviously seen Steve wink before—he does it all the time, so much so that she’s become quite adept at reading when it’s a friendly one for her, or if he’s sharing some kind of in-joke with one of the kids.
She’s also seen his attempts at a ‘smooth’ wink towards some girls at work—and look, he’s Steve Harrington, it’s not like he’s going to be bad at it.
But if you ask Robin, it’s never looked quite right, like he’s always performing to an audience he’s unsure of.
But this wink doesn’t look like it belongs to either of those categories. Well, it’s got something in common with the first: that it looks entirely natural, as if he’s doing it almost without thinking. Like it just feels right.
They go through some more rounds of charades—Dustin’s gestures, if possible, getting even more dramatic—and Eddie gradually goes from contributing a few guesses to none at all, curling up on the backseat. He looks utterly wiped out.
Robin tries to catch Nancy’s eye, and after a few attempts, she gets the message, stands up with a nod.
“Okay, let’s take this outside, guys.”
“Spoken like a true camp counsellor,” Max says.
Nancy acts like she’s offended, but her lips keep twitching into a smile. “Max, never say that to me again.”
“There’s more space outside,” Erica says, “so we can duck out the way of Dustin’s windmilling arms.”
“Hey!”
“I’m bored of charades,” Lucas says. “We could do another competition? Like, I dunno, cartwheels or handstands or something?”
“Oh sure, so I can show you up?” Max returns, grinning.
Steve scoffs. “Uh, if you’re doing a cartwheel competition, I would win.”
“Since when?” Dustin says, an obvious taunt that Steve predictably rises to, flipping him off.
“Save your athletics for Vecna, please,” Nancy cuts in dryly.
“It wouldn’t be a fair fight.” Lucas gestures to Steve’s stomach, a little uncertainly. “You know, considering…”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Under normal circumstances, I would kick all your asses.”
“Sure,” Robin says brightly, “but Steve, if you do literally anything more strenuous than sitting down right now, I’m gonna—”
“Uh, Steve would kick your asses, actually,” Eddie says slowly. His voice is muffled from the way his hand’s holding up his chin, partly covering his mouth. “He did gymnastics.”
Robin, surprised, looks to Steve; he’s doing that thing where he scratches at his cheek unconsciously, seems to be a mixture of embarrassed and pleased.
“How’d you know that?” he asks.
Eddie shrugs. “We didn’t have a cover for gym one time, remember? There was a whole group of us slacking off but you just kept doing, y’know,” he twirls his fingers, “tricks on that box thingy.”
“Vaulting box,” Steve corrects like he can’t stop himself. He’s sporting an almost abashed little smile that Robin’s never seen before.
Eddie shrugs again. “S’all Greek to me,” he says, interrupts himself halfway through with a deep yawn.
Steve’s eyes soften. And then he’s ushering the kids outside, “C’mon, you can do whatever competition you want for thirty minutes before we get to work.”
“Got it, coach.”
“Shut up, Mayfield.”
“I’ll be your stopwatch if you’re doing handstands,” Nancy chips in, bringing up the rear—she catches Robin’s eye again, subtly tilts her head in Eddie’s direction and mouths Stay?
Robin nods.
“Uh, that won’t be accurate at all,” comes Dustin’s rebuttal—he’s outside now, but his voice still carries. “Unless you can like accurately keep time in your head down to the second—”
“Oh my god, Dustin, you’re such a shithead.”
“Nancy Wheeler, I’m heartbroken.”
Steve’s chuckle floats through the open door. “She said it, dude, not me.”
“You say it all the goddamn time!”
And then the voices fade away until all Robin can hear is distant laughs and joyful screams. It’s relaxing, in its own way.
“No gymnastics for you, Buckley?” Eddie says.
“Nope, not since 7th grade. Managed two cartwheels before I broke my wrist.”
Eddie winces in sympathy. He’s slumping a bit more; Robin makes herself comfy in the opposite corner of the backseat, gives him the most space.
She feels a weird lump at her back, behind one of the cushions. A quick investigation reveals an issue of TV Guide Magazine.
“Ooh, we can find out what we missed while on the run,” she says, waggling it in front of Eddie.
He smiles with a small huff. “Doubt it. Says 1981 on the front.”
“What’s a little more time travel?”
Robin flicks through to the crossword. She’s all too aware that Eddie’s still sat more stiffly than anything else. With Steve, it would be so easy; she could prod him in the thigh with her toe, light touches until he took the hint and relaxed.
But even before they’d really become friends, they were tactile: a tap on the shoulder to grab attention, bumping hips to move each other out of the way whenever they were scooping ice-cream at the same time. It’d been done so unconsciously, like they were already learning to read each other’s minds.
With Eddie, it’s clear that a different approach is needed.
Robin had caught onto that after her misstep at the boathouse, a pit in her stomach at the sight of Eddie’s hands shaking.
But her instinct to reach out, to soothe, made her unthinkingly try again; as they walked in the woods, she’d heard his breathing quicken, and her hand lightly brushed his back. She drew back as he instantly flinched at her touch.
“Sorry, sorry,” she said hurriedly. “Just—just checking you were okay. Sorry.”
Eddie just stared at her before nodding hesitantly.
And Robin wanted to tell him that it wasn’t by chance, that he had people who cared about him; that she did, and it wasn’t a fluke or an accident—she was choosing it.
She keeps her eyes on the magazine, jots down a few crossword answers. It reminds her of summer days spent reading on her grandparents’ porch, not wanting to startle a cat her grandpa had rescued as it approached her. It was always so spooked.
“You’ve just gotta let him come to you, sweet pea,” her grandma would say.
After a couple minutes, she hears Eddie breathe out, the creak of the seat as he lies down. He rests his head right next to her thigh.
“S’good?” he asks, pointing at the magazine.
“It’s pretty easy.” One of the crossword clues is ‘The Lion, the Witch, and the?’ which isn’t exactly taxing. “I’m used to doing the cryptic ones.”
Eddie laughs. He kinda sounds fond. “Of course you are.”
“They’re not that hard, once you know how to read ‘em.”
“Hmm, I doubt that. Lay one on me, Buckley.”
She purses her lips in thought. “Oh, I got this one last week. Condition of Wyoming, five letters.”
Eddie lifts his head ever so slightly to give her a blank look. “Not a fucking clue.”
“State. Get it? ‘Cause ‘condition’ is the definition, and Wyoming is literally—”
“God, I’m surrounded by geniuses.”
“Well, I’ve got the advantage of a summer of code-breaking.”
Robin slowly raises her hand as she speaks—makes sure to do it in Eddie’s line of vision, spots that he doesn’t pull back, that he even gives the tiniest half-nod. She pats his head twice.
Eddie scrunches up his nose. “Sorry, my hair’s gross.”
“It’s not that bad,” Robin says honestly. “Y’know for being on the run, it’s holding up pretty well. I’m getting whatever shampoo you use.”
Eddie smiles. “Sure.”
“Yours is looking way better than mine did after, like, one day getting wrapped up in all this.” Again, without really thinking, Robin adds, “I had all this sweat and blood and puke in it.”
Eddie’s eyes are closed now. He makes an unhappy sound, prods gently at her knee. “You’ve all gotta work on telling me horrific shit. That should not be casual for you, Buckley.”
He sounds emphatic—protective, even. Robin feels unexpectedly emotional.
“Yeah, sorry. Bad habit.”
Silence falls, and by the time Steve enters the RV, Robin has filled in the whole crossword, Eddie dozing by her side.
Steve’s getting another bottle of water—actually drinking it this time. He’s got grass stains on his knees, and he’s sweating slightly, like the ‘stay still’ advice hasn’t once been taken.
His eyes soften again when he sees Eddie sleeping—he doesn’t need to linger, but he does.
Robin watches.
We need more time, Steve, she thinks suddenly. For you to keep looking at him like that—for him to be awake to see it.
Steve tears his eyes away. Lands on her.
She smiles, mouthing What?
Steve rolls his eyes. He imitates her ‘what?’ mockingly, but then he smiles back and taps at his wrist, mimes winding a watch on. It’s what they do whenever they’re slammed at work, wanting to talk, but only able to briefly catch each other’s eyes in the rush. Later.
She taps her wrist. Later, she promises.
He gives her a double thumbs up—what a dork—before heading back outside.
Robin quietly puts the magazine away. Ever so carefully, she lightly strokes Eddie’s hair, feels her heart swell and break at the same time when he sighs contentedly in his sleep.
You’d better look after yourself, Eddie Munson, she thinks. You’ve got people here. People who really want you to stick around.
#on newly forming friendships and love ❤️#eddie and robin#robin buckley fic#eddie munson fic#pre steddie#steddie#steddie fic#steddie ficlet#steve and the party#steve and dustin#robin buckley#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve x eddie#steve and robin#eddie and robin fic
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i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]
as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)
Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.
He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.
Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much.
And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.
“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.
You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.
“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”
You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does.
3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.
The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.
Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread.
The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.
You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.
You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears.
After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.
Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.
“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.
“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”
Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”
You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.
With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.
“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm.
“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”
Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.
The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”
You think for a moment. Then shake your head.
Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”
He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.
The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.
“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.
You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”
You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”
“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”
“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.
Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”
You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.
“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.
You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.
“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.
“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things fanfic#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble
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Damian thinking he can cure depression and all of your negative mindsets by letting you cuddle and hug Bat-Cow.
He’d personally drag you all the way to the barn and then promptly point towards the half-awake cow lounging in the farthest corner and with the straightest face he says;
‘Hug the cow y/n.’
You’re confused, you’re depressed and have told him so in confidence, and here he was demanding that you cuddle up to the bovine, who was staring at you both with their dark eyes.
‘Why?’ You’d ask, eyes never leaving the cow and Damian sighs impatiently. ‘It’ll cure your current aliment of depression.’ He says with such certainty that you almost believed him for a minute…almost.
‘Damian this is stupid, even for you-‘ however before you could finish your sentence, Damian was already pushing you from behind towards Bat-Cow, who only watched as you were positioned into their warm side, silently chewing before becoming disinterested and went back to resting their head on the floor.
Bat-cow didn’t smell the greatest but then again…they were a fucking cow but they were warm and fluffy and comfortable, so much so that you ended up cuddling further into them found yourself falling asleep almost instantaneously with a small smile on your lips. ‘Good Bat-Cow…’ you murmur sleepily as the bovine only huffs out hot air, unfazed at you cuddling them as everyone from Damian to even Jason had come once in a while to cuddle up into their side.
Damian made a satisfied noise and was about to leave when he noticed that there was a space big enough for him to slot himself against Bat-Cow also. He shifts he gazed all across the entire barn, making sure he wasn’t being observed somehow, before cuddling himself into the side of the large animal.
Damian wouldn’t find out until way later that he was indeed being observed as he chased after Tim throughout the manor, sword in hand.
Jason who loves to cuddle you as though it’s been forever since you last saw each other.
(It had been five minutes max, you needed to piss.)
He’d even make it his personal mission to carry you in his arms anywhere and everywhere he went in the apartment. He will not hear the cliche ‘I’m too heavy’ bullshit excuse, let him carry you in his arms damn it! He wants to hold you! Do not reject him this golden opportunity!
He doesn’t care if anyone like Bruce, Dick or Roy are present because if anything it shows them that he had someone in his life that he loved and adored more than anything. Roy/Dick -mainly Dick- may tease him to high heavens about it but Jason only shrugs it off and says albeit childishly: ‘well at least I have someone to hold onto every night unlike you dickhead.’ Before casually carrying you into the kitchen with him to grab a drink.
(Remember that ‘Gator needs his gat, you punk ass bitch.’ tiktok Trend where ppl picks up their friend? Yh that’s what goes on in my head when writing this.)
Jason fears as though he’s not spending enough time with you. Which is bullshit because this man spends every waking moment with you being cute and loving and just the absolute best in general.
He’s not use to the whole relationship thing and he’s overthinking everything he’s doing and worries that it might be the breaking limit for you. So all you got to do is hold his face in your hands, rest your head against his own and reassure him that he was spending more than enough time with you. It’ll probably won’t get rid of the notion that he wasn’t doing enough for you out of Jason’s head, but at least it was something that he could be reminded of when he was getting too lost in his thoughts.
He’s a worrywart and a big one at that, but as long as you keep being his anchor, keep being the reason his head feels a lot clearer and so on, then Jason will gradually come to learn that he never needs to worry about anything when you’re more than happy to keep reminding him that it’s okay to worry, and that he wasn’t being suffocating or otherwise.
Jason maybe physically imposing and intimidating to look at for some people but to you, he was like those badly stereotyped big dogs that are the biggest sweethearts. Dogs such as:
Rottweilers
XL bully dogs
Pit bull
Doberman Pinscher and more.
He’s a sweetheart who just looks intimidating, nothing more nothing less…unless you happen to be a criminal then Jason is anything but the word sweet or adorable as they’re getting their asses beaten.💀
Dick always asks you if you still love him after every minor inconvenience.
It doesn’t matter what happens or how it happens, he always give you those puppy dog eyes of his and pouts his lips. ‘Do you still love me?’
‘Dick we’ve been through this before, of course I love you.’ You’d reply.
‘But you looked really annoyed right now and I just wanted to know if you still like me enough to date me.’ He then says as he rests his head on your shoulder, pressing himself against your back.
You sighed before looking over at him and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek. ‘Does that clear everything up for you?’ You asked rhetorically as Dick beamed brightly and stole a kiss from your lips, reinvigorated. ‘Yep.’ He’d respond before moving on with the rest of his day.
If you were to accidentally forget to kiss him good morning or before you were leaving for work, Dick would take full offence as he places himself in front of the door, arms crossed and lips formed into that pout you were more then familiar with at this point. ‘You hate me.’
‘Dick I’m in a hurry!’ You cry, looking at the time.
‘And you forgot my good morning kisses!’ He’d cry back at you and you would be several minutes late to work, all because you were making up for the misses kisses. You hate Dick sometimes but you knew you couldn’t be mad at him for long when he’d smother in kisses upon arriving him from work, so you guessed he could be given a pass…just this once.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc x y/n#dc comics x reader#dc fic#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagines#jason todd x you#jason todd fanfic#jason todd fanfiction#jason todd fic#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne fluff#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader
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hiiiii
i saw your requests are open
Can you do poly price x reader x simon where they all get into an argument (Reader is lonely while they're deployed, she's not getting on their case, just expressing it) and the boys get really defensive and take it a little too far, resulting in reader staying in the guest bedroom for the night bc she doesn't wanna cry in bed next to them. The boys come to their senses and realize they fucked up and there's make up sex? Lots of reassurance and whispers of how much they love you?
Feel free to ignore, just figured I'd pop in :)
Could You Understand?
John Price x F!Reader x Simon Riley
My first COD request I hope I did right. I’m still getting down their personalities and such in writing but it’s a fun challenge. Kinda base level smut. Ps. Would never ignore ❤️
warning: mentions of anxiety (described?), light stomach bulging (I mention it twice I have a problem), double penetration, not proofread at all
Confrontation was never a strong point for her, the idea of accidentally starting a conflict made her cautious with her words. Nibbling at her lower lip she adds the final dish to the washer before closing it. Turning it on she leans against the counter with folded arms. Many times has this feeling of loneliness crossed her mind. Whenever they were gone it was a constant reminder of the fear she felt. She always found herself holding back the words. But it was as if a dam finally broke and she couldn’t help but let them spill.
Making her way into the living room she wraps her arms around herself. It was a first defense similar to showing a dog that you’re not a threat. Her eyes fall onto the two men she loved with all of her being. They sat together with the television on but it was clear they weren’t entirely focused on it. They spoke in rushed tones as if forgetting the rule of leaving work at work. It wasn’t much but it was enough to ensure they wouldn’t dwell on work-related stuff.
Clearing her throat she realized just how hard it was to speak up. It was an odd feeling as she usually found herself talking without much of an issue. When they turned to look at her the words felt stuck, unable to claw their way out of her throat. “We need to talk,” she finally uttered. The words felt hard and cold when she said them.
John was the first to speak though the way his eyebrows creased seemed to verify his confusion. “About what, sweetheart?”
The gruffness of his voice was enough to make her hold the subject off. To instead crawl into his lap and give him a kiss or two. But she knew that wouldn’t solve anything let alone reassure her.
Simon on the other hand said nothing but his eyes were focused on her. And that was enough, it was always the simple things with him. His attention was always undivided, “well..I’ve been thinking a lot while you were both deployed. I just feel alone, you know? It terrifies me knowing you’re both out there and not knowing if that’s the mission that will end with me living my life without you. I—I’ve spent so many nights worried about how or if you’ll make it back to me. Maybe I’m just thinking too much on this but I can’t help but think that way. It’s like my brain won’t allow me to think positively. Like there’s this sense of impending doom when nothing bad is really happening,” she explained.
It was silent for a moment that is until Simon scoffed, the sound seemed to echo in her mind. “And you think it’s any easier on our end having to leave you here? It’s not a friendly thought knowing we’re miles away while you’re here by yourself,” his tone was defensive. It was as if he assumed her words were to evoke a change or start an argument.
“I’m not denying that Simon, I just get so worried that-”
“We understand that you get worried sweetheart, but we can’t change our profession. We spend just as many nights worrying about whether we’ll make it back or not. We have to live through that not you,” John spoke up.
Whether he meant to or not his words seemed to cut her deeper. It was as if her attempt at getting through to them was blocked off by their defense. “I know I don’t have to live through that, but it still worries me when you leave this house. I feel so helpless for lack of a better word when I know you’re miles away and I can’t help.”
Simon shook his head, “how would you even help? You can’t help, you can barely help yourself.”
His words were sharp like that of a knife willingly piercing her heart. Maybe that’s why it hurts more hearing words like that from someone you love.
“I’m not trying to argue with either of you, I wanted to get my point across,” she said simply.
“Then why even bring this up, you always dance around what you’re feeling. We’re not mind readers, there is only so much we can do when you won’t even say what you feel. It’s exhausting,” The words left John's mouth without much of a thought.
Opening her mouth she closes it, her eyes flashing with hurt from their words. “I know you’re both probably just tired from your mission and that’s why you’re acting like this. Just forget I said anything,” she tells them.
She had walked away quicker than she meant to not wanting to say another word to them. She knew deep down if she had she would have started crying.
Placing her hands on her chest she holds back the tears that are brimming in her eyes. She holds off until she makes it into their guest room upstairs. The second she closes the door she lets out a low sob. Sitting down on the bed she wraps her arms back around herself. It was a horrible feeling as if she’d been yelled at. Having people you love downplay your emotions when you finally speak upon them.
Lying down on the bed she curls up her arms still wrapped around her. It was as if she was protecting herself from what was already done. Sobs racking her body as she found no use in calming down.
It wasn’t until they made their way upstairs later into the night that they realized. Simon assumed she would be in bed, their bed. Yet the absence of her presence in the room was like a punch to the gut. His eyes found John’s in the darkness as they stood in the space.
They didn’t have to think before they made their way towards the guest room. The door ajar allowing John to slowly push it open. There she was in the middle of the guest bed curled up. She looked smaller than she should have as if closing in on herself.
John to a step forward which turned into a few then a few more before he was sitting on the bed beside her. His hand cupping her cheek, wet with tears, “Sweetheart..” The utterances of the pet name seemed to work as her eyes opened slowly. Groggy from crying so much as well as sleep she stared at him. It was easy to tell that was what she was doing in the darkness. The tears not yet split made that easy to notice.
With crossed arms, Simon makes his way over to him, “We shouldn’t have—I should have said those things to you.”
She seemed to perk up, it was a first for Simon to say something like that. Not that she expected him to do so often but it was refreshing. “It’s fi-“
“It’s not fine, the things we said to you were uncalled for. You didn’t deserve any of that especially when all you wanted to do was express your feelings. We took our frustration from the mission out on you,” John told her. His thumb caressed her cheek a touch she leaned into without hesitation.
“You do so much for us even when you don’t think you do. Most don’t expect to be greeted at home with a smile and a warm meal. You do everything you can to make sure we’re okay. It’s time we do the same,” Simon says.
Sitting up a bit she looks between the two men with a puzzled look. She didn’t catch on until she had John’s lips on her own. The smell of tobacco and pinewood was strong as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was comforting yet sensual as she felt Ghost behind her. His lips feverishly trailing kisses along her neck and shoulders.
Her mind seemed to move slower than her actions which was evident when she found herself naked between them. Her hands rested on John’s chest as he lined himself up with her sopping-wet hole. Eager wouldn’t describe what she was feeling especially when he finally thrusted into her. He was always attentive and careful at first, “how’s that feel, sweetheart?”
The words didn’t come but a simple nod followed by a moan was enough for him. Resting his hands on her hips he set a slow and steady pace. One that seemed to draw on the moans leaving her body. “Still so tight for me,” he grunted against her warm skin.
The gentle touch along her spine was enough to remind her of Simon’s presence. The way he was looking down at her caused her to squeeze around John’s cock. A swear left the older man’s lips due to the feeling. Keeping her eyes on Simon she spoke up, “want to feel you both..”
It was new territory something she hadn’t done before. But she wanted to be closer to them in a way soft touches wouldn’t do. “Are you sure, lovie?”
She nodded her head right away at Simon’s words as he seemed to be silently communicating with John. Looking between them she waited for an answer as John continued to thrust in and out of her.
“Okay.”
That was all Simon needed to say before she leaned against John. Her arms were around his neck while her fingers curled around the hair at the base of his neck. Simon held her hip as he pumped himself in his hand before lining himself up with her stuffed hole. It was already a tight fit with John’s cock inside. Willing himself forward he groaned when his cock began to slide inside of her pussy.
Digging her nails into John’s back she muffled her noises on his shoulder. “That’s it sweetheart, such a good girl wanting to take both of us.”
John’s words seemed to calm her down as she felt him pull out some to allow Simon room to fit. She wasn’t fully prepared when she felt both of them inside of her. Neither of them moved, letting her adjust to the new feeling. Resting her hand on her stomach she moved it a bit lower feeling the bulge there. The subtle reminder of just how big John was in girth.
“Oh—please move..” her voice was a gasp barely above a whisper. She had never felt so full before, but oh did it feel perfectly right. Moving his hands up to cup her breasts Simon thrusted into her. At the same time, John pulled out before slamming himself back in.
Groaning from the feeling of John’s cock rubbing against his own as her pussy squeezed them tightly left Simon on edge. “Feels so good,” he breathed the words out.
Her mouth opened letting out a flurry of moans as their paces varied. While John was moving steadily, Simon’s pace was almost erratic. “Fuck—just like that,” she begged no one in particular.
Yet her words seemed to set both men off as they moved in tandem. Their pace seeming to match both went faster pistoning their cocks in and out of her. “So good for us lovie, always so good for us.”
The words of affection caused her to whimper before she felt his lips on hers. The kiss was dragged out and slow only fueled by John’s lips on her throat. The light prickles of his beard on her skin were comforting in a way. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. Always so caring and sweet for the both of us,” John’s voice vibrated against her soft skin.
She knew she wouldn’t last long from their affectionate words to their unyielding thrusts. Breaking the kiss between herself and Simon she whines, “So close, please.”
“Please what, lovie?”
The teasing tone he took on made her clench around their cocks. The action caused both men to groan as their cocks rubbed against her gummy walls. “Please let me cum, I’ll be good..”
“You’re always good, sweetheart,” John assured.
“Go ahead, lovie.”
She didn’t need to hear more as her eyes screwed shut. Her mind felt fuzzy as the warmth in her lower stomach began to spread. Gripping John’s shoulders she let out a cry as she came around their cocks with a tremble. However, they didn’t stop not yet at least as they were chasing their highs. To her, it felt like minutes but it only took seconds before they reached their own. Gripping her hips firmly John thrusted his hips up before releasing inside of her. Simon wasn’t too far behind as his cum mixed with that of John’s and hers.
Sighing breathlessly she shifted her eyes to the bulge in her stomach she had forgotten about. She could still see the outline of John’s cock against her lower stomach. But it didn’t last long as she felt both men pull out of her. Leaning back on Simon she watched as John left the room. Her eyes were concentrated on his back before they trailed to Simon.
“Lovie I-“
Shaking her head she leans up her lips pressed against his shoulder. “I’m fine, I guess I just worry a lot when you’re both not here. It’s scary to think something can happen on a mission and I wouldn’t know for a while until the mission ends.”
Simon noticed how shaky her voice was as if the thought of them getting hurt lingered in her mind. Placing his hands on her cheeks he leaned forward until his nose was touching hers. “It is scary, I couldn’t imagine having to stay home and wait for us to return. But I can promise you this, with everything in us we will always try our hardest to get back home to you. That’s how much you mean to us,” his words melted into her mind.
Keeping her eyes focused on his own she nodded her head, “I know you guys will. You always do and I’m grateful for that.”
“And we’re grateful for you,” John chimed in as he walked back into the room. He went straight to her using the towel in his hand to clean her up before pressing a kiss to her stomach. “We will always be grateful for you, I couldn’t picture myself loving anyone else besides the two of you.”
It was comforting to hear words like that from the men she loved. “I love you,” she said her words directed to both men. Pulling her close Simon kisses her forehead as he lays behind her. In front of her was John who also delivered a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid to tell us when you’re worried or scared. We promise to think before we speak,” John’s words reassured her.
The same way that Simon’s touch did as his thumb rubbed her hip. “I love you, now get some sleep it’s almost four in the morning.”
That was all it took before she was closing her eyes allowing the feeling of both men beside her to lull her to sleep. She felt safe and protected between them, no longer as fearful as she was before.
#poly!reader#x reader#fluff#poly fanfic#cod 141#cod smut#cod x reader#john price#price x reader#ghost cod#simon riley x reader#john price x reader#simon riley smut#john price smut#ghost smut#captain price smut#poly 141
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sincerely, yours.
luke castellan x fem athena!reader
summary: in which Luke receives love letters from a secret admirer.
1.4k words
warnings, i guess?: pre tlt!!! reader has a huge ass crush on luke, reader is weird around luke (like any normal person around their crush), love letters, secret admirer, reader is kinda stalker-ish (maybe all athena kids are lol), reader is friends with silena and clarisse, camp golden boy luke!!! reader has GRAY EYES like every other child of Athena, as this is a key note in the story but i'll leave the hair color out for you guys 🫶🏻
ONE
“Handsome, you're a mansion with a view.”
“Hey, Luke?” Chris Rodriguez calls out to his older brother, brows knitted in confusion, as he walks towards the head of cabin eleven, who was helping their brothers—Travis and Connor—fix their armor for Capture the Flag in just a few more minutes.
“Yeah?” Luke hums, his eyes not leaving the younger Stoll’s as he finishes the strap of Connor’s armor. “What is it?”
“Someone left this on your bed,” Chris answered, pulling out a tea-colored envelope from his pocket and giving it to the older boy. “It has your name on it.”
Luke pats Connor on the shoulder. “Trav, go and get shields and swords from the armory with Connor.” The eldest Stoll nodded, while the youngest opened his mouth to talk, but Luke got ahead of him. “No, Connor, you can’t have a flaming arrow. Now get over there!” He chuckles, playfully shoving the brothers away with a grin.
As soon as the two leave—Connor huffing about the flaming arrow—Luke turns to face Chris. “Who’s it from?” He asks, eyeing the envelope in Chris’ hand.
Chris shrugged. “I don’t know; it wasn't signed. It just had your name.”
“Huh,” Luke grabs the envelope from Chris’ hold, his eyes searching for any information. Instead, a pink heart wax stamp greeted him.
“You got another admirer?” Chris smirks, playfully nudging Luke. “Oh, to be you, huh? Girls here and there.”
Luke glares at Chris. “Shut up,”
“But that’s a first. A love letter. You think it’s from one of the Aphrodite kids?” Chris grinned, wiggling his eyebrows. “Explains the pink heart.”
“You talk too much, don’t you?” Luke groaned, shaking his head. “Go follow the Stolls; make sure they don’t burn the armory down. I’ll follow.”
Chris rolls his eyes, chuckling slightly. “Alright, alright, I’ll leave you with your love letter.”
“Go,” Luke huffs, shoving his brother out the door.
“Geez, lover boy, stop pushing me!” Chris laughed as Luke pushed him again. “Okay, okay, I’ll go!” He chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender. “See you at the creek!”
Luke rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Chris runs off. He then turns his attention to the envelope in his hand, with his name written in perfect cursive in bright pink. If Luke wasn’t quick to jump to conclusions, he’d assume that an Aphrodite kid probably sent the letter. The pink ink was a dead give-away. But there was a small voice in the back of Luke’s mind saying otherwise.
The Hermes counselor sighs before making his way to his bed. Maybe there he could find anything else related to the mysterious admirer. Luke plopped down onto his bed, torn between ripping the envelope open or gently opening it in fear of tearing anything else that was inside.
With a shake of his head, Luke slowly opened the tea-stain envelope, the smell of old books and jasmine invading his nostrils as he gently pulled the paper out.
Dear Luke,
I love you.
Oh gods, where do I even begin to explain that?
Okay, so I have liked—no, loved—you since I was thirteen and you were fourteen. I know a lot of girls like you, even boys. I’m not even half of those who do. I’m just, well, me. A girl who you’d never give a second glance at.
This is utterly stupid, honestly. Taking the risk to write this letter to you when you and I literally live in camp all year round. But, I guess, who cares? I mean, I’m already here writing this, so why back out now?
I remember the first time I saw you. Handsome, you’re a fucking mansion with a view. You were out in the arena, training with Marco Leon. It was the day after you and Annabeth arrived at camp. You were so good, deserving the title of ‘the best swordsman’ camp has seen in three hundred years. Your dark curls looked like a halo as you sparred with him, a mischievous look in your eyes as they shined like ambers underneath the golden rays of sunlight. From that day on, I knew I was in trouble. Everything about you captivates me—a secret no one knows.
Every time you’re around, my heart beats too fucking fast, like a pegasus galloping in the wind. You make the butterflies in my stomach flutter like crazy, you make my palms get sweaty, and my words fail me, leaving me a stuttering mess when you’re near and you aren’t even talking to me. See what you do to me? I’ve never thought I would fall head over heels for someone so completely and so effortlessly.
You make the angels in heaven dance and sing hymns. Each time I look at you, wedding bells ring inside my head. You make me want more and more of you. I just can't think straight when you're in my head; even writing your name makes my cheeks turn red. You make me smile in so many ways, to the point that it isn’t even funny anymore. You are my favorite everything. I’ve been telling my friends that since I was fifteen.
I get jealous when I see someone who gets close to you and flirts with you. I just can’t explain how annoyed—angry—I get when they try to get your attention when I have no right to be. There’s just something about you. I can’t pinpoint it, but it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.
Do you think if I wished on every dandelion in the world, you’d be mine? It would be a dream come true, of course. But in reality? You would never notice me. Like I said before, I’m just a girl you’d never take a second glance at. I’d forever be in the shadow of everyone else, hidden far away in the darkness.
You take my breath away, Luke Castellan. I don’t know how, but, fuck, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
sincerely,
yours
Luke stared at the letter for a few seconds, still trying to understand the words he had just read. He knew that girls liked him, but he never had someone send him a love letter, let alone a detailed one.
“Who are you?” Luke muttered, his eyes going back and forth through the letter, wondering who the girl was who’d written the letter. Something about her words made him want to find her, but the letter wasn’t signed. No name, no cabin, no anything. How was he going to find out who wrote the letter?
“Luke, capture’s in five minutes!” Annabeth’s voice snapped Luke out of his thoughts. He quickly folded the letter, placing it back in the envelope, before shoving it under his mattress. He isn’t taking any chances, especially with the Stoll brothers, whom reminded Luke of him and Chris just a few years back.
Luke immediately ran out of cabin eleven, meeting Annabeth down at the steps.
“You still aren’t geared up,” Annabeth observed, brow raised. “I can’t afford another loss, Luke,” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Got held up inside, you know, the Stolls.” Luke shrugged, hoping she wouldn't see through his lie. Technically, it wasn’t a lie. He did get held up with his younger brothers, well, except for that tiny exemption under his mattress.
Annabeth sighed. “Just go and get ready. The conch will sound in a few, and I still have to find Y/n and Malcolm.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Luke chuckled, saluting to his not-so-little sister. “We will win; don’t worry.”
Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You said that last year.”
“Gotta be positive, Annie Bunny,” Luke grinned, nudging the younger girl slightly.
“Stop calling me that,” Annabeth huffed, turning her heel to walk away.
“What? You loved bunnies!” Luke teased as she walked away.
“I was seven!” Annabeth groaned, walking faster, making Luke laugh.
“See you at the creek in four minutes!” Luke called after the daughter of Athena before turning to walk to the armory when someone collided face first into his chest.
“Woah, careful there,” Luke chuckled, catching that someone in his arms. A girl with the same gray eyes as Annabeth, a little more on the silver side, though still as intense.
“Uh, hi?”
“You okay, pretty girl?” Luke asks, smiling at her, his strong arms still wrapped around her waist for support.
“Uh, think so? Yes? I guess?” she rambled, her eyes not meeting his.
Luke chuckles, helping the girl get back on her feet. “Careful next time, alright?”
“Uh, okay, bye!”
Luke laughed as the girl quickly scrambled away, her long hair bouncing behind her. “See you on the battlefield later, Y/n!”
tags: @lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons
#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan fanfic#luke castellan fanfiction#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader fanfic#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan fic#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson#pjo#pjo series#pjo luke#annabeth chase#connor stoll#travis stoll#chris rodriguez#cabin eleven#athena!reader#cabin six#luke castellan x fem!athena reader#camp half blood#chb#fanfiction#pjo fanfic#percy jackon and the olympians#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x yn
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Lessons
TW: dark content!!, yandere!shigaraki tomura x female reader, noncon/dubcon, implied kidnapping, degradation, humiliation, begging, anal fingering, piv, tomura is mean, mdni.
wc: 2k
Synopsis: Tomura thinks it’s time you learned an important lesson.
"I got something for you today."
Here he goes again, you think as you watch Shigaraki place a white plastic bag onto his desk. It’s hard to fight the roll of your eyes, but you do. He’s been in a mood lately and you don’t want to push your luck more than you have.
It’s become routine, you and him.
He gets too close, you tell him off. It surprises you that he actually listens and instills some kind of confidence in yourself — in your words. Maybe you have more power over the situation than you thought.
The rustle of the bag catches your attention and you watch as he pulls out a few things. An energy drink, a small box of what looks like bandages and a small bottle of clear liquid.
Your brows raise, interest piqued and you sit up a little straighter to see better.
“What do you—?”
He holds the bottle up and your face scrunches in confusion. His smile is one that sends chills up your spine and you have to will yourself to stop being antsy.
“Lube. It’s for you!” He says like it’s a birthday gift you’ve waited all year for. “You’ve been so… mouthy lately, I’ve decided to give you something to mouth off about. Won’t that be fun?”
The question is rhetorical and you no longer fight your antsy movements. Rushing to your feet and taking a pointed step away from Shigaraki, your eyes narrow, “what are you talking about?” You’ve never had to use lube. He’s just taken what he’s wanted and your body adjusts every time — as much as you hated it.
He places the lube back onto the desk and grabs his energy drink, cracking the can open and taking a sip of the sugary sweet soda. He was calm, patient — eerily so.
After he’s had his fill of the drink, Shigaraki looks to you and nods his head in the direction of the bed. “Get on it.”
Your heart felt like it would pound out of your chest as you held your hands up to the man before you. “Wait, Tomura, we can—!”
“Oh?” He cuts you off, voice lifted and mockingly playful, “I’m Tomura now? But you were so comfortable calling me shigaraki.”
He places his drink can back on the desk and fully turns toward you. “I didn’t stutter. Get on the fucking bed.”
You knew his patience was wearing thin, but you still had to try. Taking a shaky breath, you get onto the bed, sitting down on the edge of it.
“On your hands and knees.”
Your blood ran cold, and you tried once more, searching your brain for any sweet words that could placate him. Desperate to find something, anything he would like to hear from you, “please—“
He’s in front of you before you can blink, large hand grabbing your face and pressing your cheeks together, “I’m done playing these games with you,” you can smell the sugar from the drink on his breath as your breathing picks up, pricks of panic lacing your body.
Shigaraki crashed his lips into yours, wasting no time slipping his tongue into your wet mouth. The taste of sweet energy drink was nauseating but you kissed back in fear of what he would do if he didn’t. You’ve exhausted all options and you knew, deep down that anything more would only make things worse.
He pulls away, a trail of saliva following as he meets your eyes — and god, his smile. He’s giddy like a kid on Christmas and you regret every act of defiance you’ve made against him these past few weeks.
“Cute.” Was the only word he gave before you were being manhandled onto your stomach, face in the pillows and ass in the air.
“You know,” he muses, pressing his clothed erection to your panties, “I’m starting to think you want this. You want to see me angry so I can put you in your place.”
He backs away to pull your underwear down in one swift movement, making you reach back to attempt to cover yourself. This only irritates him more as he grabs your wrist and pins your arm behind your back. The angle is as painful as it is uncomfortable.
You hear him shuffling around behind you, no doubt one free hand of his own making things more difficult — and you take small pleasure in that. It’s short lived though as he seems to find what he’s looking for and you brace yourself for the inevitable.
There’s the pop of a cap and then smooth cold liquid dripping down your backside and over your hole that makes you shiver. You feel frozen as the liquid trails lower and lower until it’s past the heat of your cunt.
All it takes is the press of a finger to get you putting up a fight once more. there was no way he was really doing this. He’s never tried this.
“I shouldn’t even prep you, honestly,” he mutters and you wince as one of his digits slowly push past the ring of muscle. “You’ve been so defiant. You really need to learn some manners.”
The tears streaming from your eyes are making the pillow below you damp and cold, but you can only sniff in response. “Tomura, please—“
“Please what?” He sinks the finger deeper and you can’t hold back your yelp of pain.
You shake your head as much as you can, “please stop! It hurts..”
He pulls out suddenly and you think he’s actually going to listen — that he’s actually done torturing you until-
A hand swings down and slaps your ass, making you cry out. He imitates a buzzer sound before gripping the fat of your bottom, “wrong answer!”
You thrash more as panic wells up inside when you feel the prodding of two fingers instead of one against your hole. “You know, this is supposed to be your punishment,” both won’t fit and he resorts to only letting one finger penetrate, his other hand massaging the cheek of your behind. “But I’m afraid you may like this too much.”
He is delusional. Shigaraki is the one that’s having the time of his life watching you suffer and writhe. You try to pull forward and away but the hand that was massaging your ass is now grabbing your hip and holding you in place. Your cry is loud as you feel the pressure of another finger join the first and shigaraki wastes no time pumping the digits in and out of your hole.
You think your crying and begging falls on deaf ears — forcing you to accept the inevitable and you find yourself wishing you were anywhere else but here. You could be dropped off in the middle of the Sahara Desert during a summer heatwave and it would still be miles better than this hellhole.
Just when you’re about to surrender to your fate and stop fighting it, shigaraki speaks again, “Since I’m so kind and understanding, I’ll give you a choice.” it’s like he sensed you were on the verge of checking out. That would just be too easy. “Which hole do you want me in? Hm? Tell me.”
He’s gripping your hip tighter and you know there will be bruises formed but your mind could only focus on this awful option.
You don’t want him in either. The idea of having to tell him which way to violate you only made you nauseous. But you knew that you had to make a choice because it was always worse when he made one for you.
“M-my..” you feel sick, swallowing your shame and squeezing your eyes shut as you continue, “I want you in my.. pussy.”
You could practically hear the smile in Shigaraki's voice, “yeah? Beg for it.”
He wanted to humiliate you, this was the real punishment. To build you up, give you a false sense of security only to break you down even more. He was sick.
But you were sicker because you did exactly as you were told.
“Tomura, please. Please fuck me.” You turned your head, as if you could hide your shame into the pillow below you, “I need you.”
“Atta girl.” He praises, pulling his fingers out and you sigh in relief, nerves calming and shoulders relaxing. You almost melt into the sheets until you feel the pressure of shigaraki’s erection against your cunt. The lube is there and making things wetter than usual but the squeeze will still be uncomfortable.
You look back, worry lacing your features, “wait, Tomura—“ but you don’t have a chance to finish, he pushes into you, girth stretching you and making your toes curl in an odd combination of pleasure and discomfort.
Shigaraki lets out a sigh of relief, rocking his hips at a steady pace before leaning over you. “Fuck, that’s good.” The hand gripping your hip moves to cup your breast, tweaking the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger.
This was familiar, this was easy. It was not uncharted territory and it was something you could convince yourself was okay. Normal, even.
“Mine, mine, you’re all mine” he babbles into your ear and you don’t turn away, terrified he’ll go back on his words if you do.
His pace is picking up and you find yourself getting lost in the motions. His body rocking against yours as he changes the angle and oh—
He hits the spot inside and you can’t stop yourself from moaning out. It’s sensitive and it makes your back arch with every deep stroke.
“Fuckin’ slut, I knew you’d like this.” He mutters, circling his thumb around your unoccupied hole, the lube making it slide with ease, before pressing into the tightness. The pain is dull and the pressure of being filled so much almost sends you over, dragging a whine from the back of your throat.
The bed shakes from the force of Shigaraki’s thrusts and you feel heat pool in your lower abdomen. You were so close and you hated it. Hated him. But when you felt his warm hand move from your breast, down your stomach until it was splayed out over your cunt — pinkie finger lifted and middle finger brushing your clit with every thrust.
You were beginning to feel dizzy with pleasure and your head fell onto the pillow, hands gripping the sheets below to anchor yourself as you got lost in the feelings. It was overwhelming and you couldn’t bite back your cries and Shigaraki’s thrusts became erratic, he was close too.
All it took was one more thrust to sweep you over the edge, eyes rolling back as your thighs shook — orgasm claiming you.
“Oh, fuck.” Shigaraki breathed, stilling as his own waves of pleasure overcame him. You barely registered the pulse of his cock as he came deep inside of you.
You both try to catch your breath, time seeming to still as you panted. Shigaraki was the first to move, you felt him pull out and pause — no doubt watching his cum drip from your cunt — before taking his place next to you on the bed.
The quiet of the room is deafening and your eyelids feel heavy. You’re as still as a mouse, not wanting to stir and risk him starting up again, but his eyes are already closed. You almost think he’s asleep before he speaks again.
“Next time,” he starts, stretching before sitting up, “I won’t be so kind. So you should clean up your nasty attitude.”
You nod, dread weighing down your efforts. There wouldn’t be a next time, if you could help it. Regrettably, you tremble at the thought as you realize this is the exact lesson he was trying to teach you.
#yandere shigaraki#yandere shigaraki tomura#shigaraki tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura x you#shigaraki x reader#tomura x reader#shigaraki tomura#tw yandere#tw noncon#dark content#dead dove do not eat#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere imagines#yandere tomura shigaraki#my works
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A Bullet in the Chamber
Proxies (Hoodie, Masky, Toby) x Gender Neutral Reader
Genre: Horror/Dark Angst
Summary: They want you to prove your love, to prove that you truly believe you’re meant to be together…with the help of Tim’s revolver, of course.
Content/Warnings: God, where do I start…obviously massive use of a gun, they play russian roulette, descriptions of gore, the proxies are super manipulative and emotionally abusive to reader, just a super obsessive not healthy relationship, this is NOT a feel good fic, it’s implied reader is being held captive
Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!
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Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!
“We just wanna…play a little game with you, that’s all,” Tim drawls, his voice deep and lazy as he looks at you from behind his mask.
You’re nervous suddenly. Unbearably nervous. A cold chill runs throughout your body and makes your stomach convulse in an agonizing manner, and you don’t know if you’re going to vomit or pass out first. You don’t know why. He’s only just started speaking. Maybe it’s the way he drew out the last part of that sentence, or the way he immediately tried to soothe you before you’ve even fully understood what’s going on, or just that look in his eyes that says ‘I want to fucking gut you.’
There’s a reason you learned to keep your guard up around these three.
Suddenly the little circle you’re all sitting in on the floor feels much, much tighter than is comfortable, and it doesn’t help that Toby slides in closer, bumping your shoulder with his and flashing you a knowing smirk. What exactly he knows, though, is a horrific enigma to you.
Brian is on your other side, and although he doesn’t move, for a split second he glances at you out of the corner of his eye before his gaze returns to Tim. He’s managing to hold a straight face, but you can see the corners of his mouth just barely twitching as he internally fights to keep the emotion bubbling beneath the surface at bay.
There’s silence for a few moments, you’re not sure how long, but you don’t realize they’re waiting for you to speak until Toby nudges you.
“I, uh…what, um— what kind of game…?” You stammer, immediately regretting your question despite the curiosity that’s gnawing at you like a starving animal. You shudder when Toby giggles, clearly trying to stifle the sound as he bumps your shoulder again.
Tim thinks over his answer for a moment, scratching at his stubble in a manner that is far too casual. You think he’s going to speak, you’re expecting it, but he doesn’t say anything at first beyond a tired sounding sigh. Your eyes are locked onto his hand as it reaches behind him, and when it emerges once more it’s holding onto the grip of Tim’s revolver.
“There’s one bullet in the chamber.”
The world is spinning suddenly as you watch him place the weapon on the ground, and the sound of it sliding across the floor to you makes you sick. You bite back a gag as it slows to a stop in front of you. Your mouth hangs open uselessly as you struggle for words, desperate to pull out some sort of protest to what you know he wants but no sound comes.
They watch you grapple with yourself for a few moments before Brian places a hand on your knee. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, and normally it would be, but now it feels like a threat.
“Hey, don’t freak out so soon,” He says, lips curled into a subtle smirk, “We did this all the time when we were younger, it’s practically a rite of passage.”
Unsurprisingly, this does little to quell your fears. You’re shaking now, unable to wrap your mind around how they could be acting so nonchalant about putting your lives on the line like this.
“Listen,” Tim huffs, “I’m gonna be straight with ya, kid. We know how you’ve been feeling recently.”
That hardly narrows it down. You’ve been feeling a lot of things recently, none of it good and all of it confusing. That’s just the sort of conflict born from this kind of captivity. You shrug, unsure what to say.
“We know you w-wanna leave,” Toby clarifies, “I saw you staring out t-the window the other day…you just s-sat there for hours.”
That…made you feel a bit guilty. You shouldn’t, but you do. You could’ve at least made it less obvious.
“We trust you, hon,” Brian adds with a nod, “But we also think we could all use a little…what did you call it?”
He turns to Tim, who yawns before answering.
“…Group bonding.”
You shudder at the phrase. Disgusting.
“I…I don’t think this is the best way to…t-to do that,” You murmur, but your words hold no weight when you can’t even look them in the eyes. You’d never take the risk of making any sort of real fuss anyways.
Tim shrugs, seeming to consider your words.
“How would you do it, then?”
You…don’t have an answer for that. Why don’t you have an answer for that?
“I-I don’t know, I mean…can’t we just have awkward group sex like other, uh…groups, or whatever?” You ask, hesitating to call your dynamic any sort of relationship.
You make sure to tack on a nervous laugh at the end to make it seem lighthearted, but no one is amused. Toby giggles, but he’s laughing at you, and it’s painfully obvious.
“Don’t stress about it,” Tim says, “Just think of it as a…a test, you know?”
He sighs when you shake your head no.
“Ya know, like…a way of proving yourself. I mean, you trust us, right?”
You hesitate to answer that, but nod quickly when Tim narrows his eyes at you.
“Good. Well, think of it this way: if we all survive this, it’s a sign that we’re…meant to be together.”
“There has to be a better way—“ You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and Brian instantly takes to calming you.
He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his side. His other hand comes up to your face, holding your head against his shoulder.
“Calm down, baby,” He says softly, “Don’t jump ship so fast. I told you, we’ve all done this before. We’ll even go first to show you there’s nothing to be afraid of, alright?”
He’s not really giving you a choice.
You nod.
Maybe you’ll be able to just get this over with. If you sit here for much longer, you’re gonna be sick.
Toby reaches out to grab the gun first. That doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s never been one for forethought, or common sense in general. One day his hubris will get him killed, you think, but for once you’re hoping it won’t be today.
Not today.
Not here.
Not right in front of you.
Brian doesn’t let you go, continuing to hold you against him as Toby makes a show of spinning the chamber, letting it run until it stops on its own. He giggles with deranged amusement as he presses the end of the barrel to the bottom of his chin, looking back at Tim with a crooked grin.
There’s silent for a few moments, and you can’t look away from him until you follow his gaze to Tim, who is staring back with furrowed brows.
He’s still for a beat, and then he nods.
A signal.
Go.
You have a split second to process Toby preparing to pull the trigger before you bury your face in Brian’s hoodie and he, in turn, covers your face with his hand and squeezes you tight. It’s hardly comforting, but it’s better than nothing.
The soft click of the trigger seems to echo endlessly in the silence that follows.
Silence.
You quickly look back up and are immediately met with Toby’s hazel eyes looking back at you, their corners crinkled with the wide smile that’s spread across his pale face.
“Lookie there,” He drawls with a laugh, “This h-handsome face is still in tact.”
“Hardly the better outcome,” Tim mutters with a roll of his eyes.
This prompts Toby to slide the gun to him next, crossing his arms in feigned hurt.
“You go n-next then, wise guy. If you blow y-your brains out, at least we’ll know you h-had one.”
“Shut up,” Tim hisses back as he, too, brings his hand up to spin the chamber of the revolver. You’re still trying to catch your breath. You didn’t think they’d be so eager.
You’re gripping onto Brian’s hoodie so tightly your knuckles burn as you watch Tim press the barrel of the gun to his jaw, angling it upwards toward the dome of his skull.
He’s not nearly as giddy as Toby. He’s straight faced and silent, which isn’t odd, but something in his eyes is darker than you ever remember it being. You can only see his eyes with his mask on, yet you know his expression exactly. He’s staring right at you, and you’re imagining his brains dashed against the wall behind him, his face and any identifying features that once made him human reduced to a splatter of viscera that barely resembles the pieces of a person.
And when it’s all over, you think, you’ll surely be the one left to clean the mess of what used to be Tim. You’ll be left to scrub the red stains from the floorboards while the others continue on as if nothing has happened, and suddenly you can’t breathe.
The world stills as once more the trigger is pulled with a click.
Then relief hits you like a shockwave when that click is followed by silence.
Silence.
Your lungs fill faster than you were ready for, and you cough and sputter as your chest heaves with newfound breath. Brian rubs your shoulder gently, his other hand reaching out to grab the revolver as Tim slides it to him. The gun is exchanged without a word, only piercing eye contact as Brian lifts the weapon and spins the chamber, just as his companions had done before him.
It seems so natural for all of them. In the half a second it takes for Brian to lift the gun you wonder how many times they’ve done this, if you’re the first person to witness this ritual, and if not, what happened to those who came before you.
You don’t find any hope of getting answers, though, as you watch Brian press the barrel to the side of his head. He gives you a squeeze, and you can’t tell if he’s assuring you or saying goodbye just in case.
You still haven’t released his hoodie despite the throbbing pain in your fingers. You’re barely a thread away from tearing out a patch, but you can’t let go. You don’t look at him this time, unable to pull your head away from where it rests on his shoulder. You wrap your arms around him and squeeze like you’re trying to crush him, but he only lets out a breathy chuckle and ruffles your hair in response as if he’s amused by your terror. You’re a scared kid to him, a foolish little child running from an imaginary monster despite the very real threat.
You can hear his hoodie shifting as he adjusts the position of the gun. You can hear the slight scratching against his hair as the barrel moves against his head. You can hear him suck in a quick breath as he readies himself to pull the trigger.
You hear the click.
And then silence.
Silence.
You’ve never been so grateful for silence.
You nearly jump out of your skin when Toby claps and laughs loudly, practically howling with wildly misplaced celebration. He shakes you in his excitement, unable to get any intelligible words out through his giggling.
“Shhh,” Brian says with a finger to his lips, “We’re not done yet.”
He’s right. Goddamnit, he’s right. Not everyone has played yet. You were hoping that maybe just this once the higher being that trapped you in this hell would have this minuscule mercy on you, but you were met with a resounding no.
Brian places the gun on the floor in front of you. You can’t hear the sound of the metal gently knocking against the wood floor, but it makes you feel ice cold. Your world is rapidly going dark as you struggle to make yourself breathe.
You can feel the others’ eyes on you, three pairs of eyes staring right at you and boring a hole through your skull that’ll surely be identical to the one the bullet will leave. Maybe they’re imagining it, too.
It seems you’re not moving fast enough for them.
Toby reaches out and grabs your wrist a bit too roughly, forcefully placing your hand on the gun. You wince like you expect it to burn, but you’re left with only the cruel sensation of metal on your palm.
You weakly curl your fingers around the grip of the gun. It feels impossibly heavy as you lift it, trembling like a leaf in the wind. You force your other hand up, placing two fingers on the chamber of the revolver as you prepare to spin it.
You press the pads of your fingers against the metal, pushing down in an attempt to spin, but the gun slips from your shaking hands and clatters to the floor. You yelp in surprise and clamp your hands over your mouth, tears suddenly forming in your eyes but refusing to flow over.
Brian sighs. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just disappointed. He picks up the gun, and you think that maybe, just maybe he’s going to let you out, grant you some small reprieve and tell you you don’t have to do this.
Instead he wraps an arm around your waist and holds you close, and his other hand presses the barrel of the gun right to your head.
“I’ll do it for you,” He says, as if it’s nothing serious. Like he’s just grabbing a box off a high shelf to be nice.
You feel like he’s strangling you. He might as well be. It would be a more humane death.
He’s going to kill you, you think, you’re going to die in this godforsaken house with these bastards, you’re going to die in isolation with no one to honor your body.
They’ve sentenced you to death.
You think back to that question of how many have come before you. Is this what they thought about, too? Is this the first, third or twentieth time someone like you has been here? How many unfortunate circumstances have stained the floorboards red over the years this cabin has stood?
It doesn’t matter.
None of that matters.
You’re going to be the next.
That’s all there is for you to be now.
A stain of red on the old wood floors will be your only legacy.
You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you look up at Brian. His expression doesn’t move an inch. There’s no trace of the humor he always seems to have, not even a hint of feigned compassion or sympathy for your position. He’s not letting you out of this. None of them are.
You reach down and grab Brian’s hand where it rests in your hip, your nails digging into his knuckles. He doesn’t react. He doesn’t even move beyond adjusting his finger to pull the trigger.
Each second seems to go on for an eternity, yet at the same time everything is moving far too fast. You can’t process what’s happening but you just want it over with, that’s your only choice.
He’s lifting his finger, preparing to bring it down on the trigger.
He’s pressing the barrel of the gun into your skin just a bit harder as he readies himself for whatever happens next.
This is it.
This is it.
This is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is it this is…
The trigger clicks.
Then there’s silence.
…it.
Silence.
And then Toby erupts with animalistic, ecstatic laughter. It rings in your ears and echoes around your skull in an almost painful manner. You can’t stand the sound.
You’re alive.
The game is over.
All at once relief floods your body in such an overwhelming manner your vision goes dark. You can’t speak a word before you’ve gone limp in Brian’s arms, and he barely has time to put the revolver down and catch you. He holds you in his arms and makes a half hearted attempt to wake you, but when you don’t respond he looks up at Tim with a smirk.
“Out like a light.”
Tim can’t help but chuckle, and for a moment it’s even a full on laugh. This only encourages Toby, who’s flopped over onto his back as his body writhes with mirth.
Brian groans as he stands, pulling your body up with him. He throws you over his shoulder and nods to the others.
“I’m taking this one up stairs, gonna put ‘em to bed. I’m sure they’ll be whiny when they wake up, and you two better deal with it.”
Tim and Toby nod and wave him away. Toby’s finally stopped laughing enough to pull himself off the floor as Tim picks up the revolver. He shoves it into Toby’s chest, nearly pushing him over.
“Go put it up,” Tim orders.
“Or what?” Toby teases as he takes the gun, “You g-gonna get mad ‘cause I won’t clean up y-your toys?”
“Just do it,” Tim demands with a growl, clearly not amused. Toby rolls his eyes and huffs like a defiant child, but nods.
Tim starts to walk away, headed upstairs to his own room, but he pauses on the first step and turns to Toby.
“Oh, and don’t forget to load it,” He adds, “If it’s empty the next time I need it, I’m gonna kill you.”
#marble hornets#creepypasta#marble hornets x reader#gender neutral reader#creepypasta x reader#angst#horror#marble hornets angst#dark angst#creepypasta angst#ticci toby#ticci toby x reader#toby rogers#dark content#tim wright#tim wright x reader#masky#masky x reader#hoodie marble hornets#hoodie x reader#brian thomas#brian thomas x reader#slender proxy#creepypasta proxy#slenderman#horror writing
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Tangled in Wonderland - Tall, Tall Tales
author note: Eeeeek this is very, very late! A lot of stuff has happened and yada yada but I’m here and I’m sorry! I’m still going to continue with this and I hope I can get back on track with writing this because I’m really enjoying this event! This instalment follows on directly from the Scarabia one, I hope you all enjoy!
characters: Floyd Leech x GN!Reader
“SHRIMPY!”
Oh no.
Your whole body froze up in an instant at the sound of that familiar, unhinged voice. Clearly, fate had decided you hadn’t gone through enough punishment today and decided to add a little bit more spice to your day. And by spice, it meant perhaps one of the most chaotic entities you have ever met. You looked around wildly, trying to spot him as quickly as you could so you could run. He was right on the path leading up to the Hall of Mirrors, roguish grin on his face as he waved both his arms at you. Your only choice was to go back inside and escape through one of the mirrors.
“Stay away from me, Leech!” You snapped, not even bothering with your usual faux attempt to be cordial as you turned on your heel, bolting towards the mirrors. If you could just get through the Heartlabyul mirror, you’d be—
“Aha~! Got you.” Breathed a husky voice right by your ear, suddenly tugged straight off your feet and into the air by the lanky arms that coiled around your midsection, your back flush against his chest.
“Shrimpy is so mean, callin’ me by just my last name! Even when I’ve gone through all the effort to give you a lil nickname too!” Floyd mourned, swinging you around the Hall of Mirrors, your legs swinging perilously out in front of you whilst you clutched onto his arms for dear life and let out a small, undignified scream. “Aah, maybe you thought I was Jade? Because I was really far away? Then maybe I can forgive you, Shrimpy…” His sharp teeth were uncomfortable close to your ear as he let out a little laugh, “or maybe I can just keep spinnin’ you around!”
Floyd picked up the speed of his spinning, his manic laughter drowning out your screams and for a moment, you thought this might be how it all ended… But then you remembered, the Leech twins thrive off of fear in their victims, so you sucked it up and started hitting him on his arms to get his attention. If your legs ended up breaking one of the mirrors, you’d never hear the end of it from Crowley…
“P-put me down, Floyd! I am not a toy!” You cried out, and thankfully your repeated hitting of his arms managed to get his attention, for he finally slowed to a stop. The world spun around you, making you semi-grateful for his arms around your waist. They were the only thing holding you up, at this point.
“Eh? Are you sure you’re not a toy? Azul said somethin’ real interesting the other day…”
Uh oh.
“Did he now…” You remarked, feigning disinterest as best as you could as your vision finally began to right itself again.
“Mhmmm~” Floyd mused against your ear, and you just knew this couldn’t be good, “he said you know things. Things that you should have no way of knowing. Kinda like one of those magic 8 ball things.” Floyd continued, before his mouth split into a broad, terrifying grin. “Maybe if I shake you a little, you’ll tell me all sorts of things too.”
“Floyd, don’t—”
It was too late. You clung to Floyd’s arms as he began to shake you erratically, like you were a chocolate bar stuck in a vending machine. Your head collided with his shoulder multiple times, not hard enough to hurt but definitely jarring in its own way as the world once again became dizzying. Floyd seemed to be enjoying himself, his mocking laughter filling the small hall as he watched your rattled expression.
“Oh magic Shrimpy ball, oh magic Shrimpy ball,” he chanted as he continued to shake you, finally beginning to slow down as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “why did you walk out of the Scarabia mirror just a moment ago?”
Ah, of course he saw that.
With as much strength as you could muster in your dizzy state, you threw an elbow back into his chest, feeling some satisfaction when you heard him let out a small ‘oof’. “That’s none of your business,” you grumbled, your lips turned downwards in distaste. “and that isn’t even how a magic 8 ball works! You’re supposed to ask the question first and then shake it… Don’t start shaking me again!” You quickly warned as a follow up, turning your head to give Floyd a glare. He just gave you that little frustrating grin right back.
“It’s not my fault Shrimpy, I have all this pent-up energy ‘cause you’ve been avoiding me. I’ve missed you.” As if to punctuate his words, he started to squeeze you, and you found yourself once again whacking his arms to get him to release you.
“Floyd! There is no need—” You gasped out, feeling some of your joints cracking harmlessly from the pressure but a tightness building near your ribs that promised pain if he didn’t stop soon. You gasped out a breath when he finally eased up his hold, but very nearly choked when you realised he was waltzing right towards the Octavinelle mirror.
“Floyd, put me down!”
“Nah, Shrimpy, don’t feel like it. Let’s hang out!” Floyd responded in his usual lackadaisical manner, stepping through the Octavinelle dormitory mirror without pause. It was odd, feeling the usually surreal feeling of a bubble forming around you as you floated towards the dorm, but on top of that, Floyd was still holding you, back flush against his chest with your legs dangling in front of you. You can’t imagine how ridiculous it looked.
Floyd walked you straight into the Mostro Lounge without a care in the world, heading straight for one of the unoccupied booths.
“Oya,” you heard another terribly familiar voice as you passed the bar, “I see you have acquired a valuable customer, Floyd. Please enjoy your stay.” Jade hummed with a short bow, not even bothering to hide his toothy grin as he observed your plight. You didn’t even get a chance to scowl before Floyd was bundling you into a booth, none too gently either.
“What? You told me to put you down.” Floyd drawled when you shot him a glare, sitting opposite you and spreading himself out on the available space. He leaned his elbows onto the table, propping his head up with one palm as he stared straight at you.
“Ne, Shrimpy… Why don’t you tell me what you said to Azul the other week to make him come back all shaken up?” Floyd hummed, his smile seeming playful, but you could already see the predatory glint in his eye.
You narrowed your eyes slightly, unsure of what Floyd’s motive was here.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You responded demurely, keeping tight lipped. Floyd’s smile widened, sharp teeth on full display as he leaned forward. “Don’t be like that, Shrimpy! You should have seen it, it was hilarious!” Floyd cackled thumping his hand on the table in front of them, “he came rushin’ back to the Lounge, all pale faced and jumpy, and then locked himself in the VIP room.”
A cocktail glass filled with a blue liquid and decorated with a star shaped garnish was elegantly placed in front of you. A similar glass was placed in front of Floyd. “Yes, Azul was very startled when he returned to the Lounge the other week. We were very worried.” Jade confirmed, folding his hands in front of him, faux concern colouring his tone, but the amusement shone through his close eyed smile.
“I didn’t order this.” You responded dryly, as Floyd already pulled his straw to his mouth and took a gulp from his drink. “Aww just try it Shrimpy, it’s my own recipe! It’s good, see!” He stuck his tongue out, revealing his stained bright blue tongue. You pushed your glass away from you. Yeah, you definitely weren’t going to be trying that.
“I’m positively hurt, prefect. I mixed that with care, just for you.” Jade hummed, his eyebrows down turning in a look of fake hurt. You ignored him.
“We could hear Azul muttering to himself in the VIP room. ‘Who are they’, ‘how do they know that’. He got so mad when we used Jade’s key to unlock the door. You should have seen his face, Ahaa~”
“You spied on your own friend? You guys are ruthless.” You commented casually, and Floyd only grinned at you wider, Jade’s expression not changing from his solemn one.
“The VIP room was quite the mess, too. Papers all over the floor. Azul wouldn’t even let me help him clean it all up, it must have taken him hours.” Jade added, his smile looking more and more devious by the minute.
“So tell us what you did, Shrimpy.” Floyd prodded.
“Yes tell us, prefect.” Jade coaxed.
Both of the Leech twins stared you down, razor sharp smiles on their faces as they attempted to intimidate you into revealing what happened between you and Azul in the library that day. You were starting to see now why Azul insisted on referring to them as just colleagues.
You were in a bit of a bind here. You expected the stunt you pulled on Azul to have some backlash, and you really didn’t want to make the Leech twins anymore interested in you than they already were. And for whatever reason, Azul hadn’t divulged what you had said to him to Jade and Floyd, who were his closest confidants. Or, this was some sort of elaborate ruse that they had strategized to wheedle the information out of you. Either way, you thought you should probably tread with caution here…
… But Azul had been bothering you again lately…
You leaned back into your seat, looking sheepishly away from them both and staring at the smooth pearlescent surface of the table. “I don’t know guys, it’s kind of… Embarrassing…” You muttered. You caught Jade and Floyd sharing a look between each other before they leaned in closer, like sharks tasting blood.
“Ne, it’s okay, you can tell us, Shrimpy…”
“It might make you feel better to get it off your chest, prefect…”
Hook, line and sinker.
You glanced up at them, the both of them leaning in uncomfortably close but you masked your distaste by rubbing your arm, as if you were feeling flustered by just thinking about the situation. “Well, um…” You began, pausing for dramatic effect, Floyd leaning in closer in anticipation and Jade nodding gently, as if the comfort you for the difficult story you were about to tell.
“Azul had been visiting me in the library after classes for a few days… We were getting along really well… It was, well… It was nice to have a friend. It’s hard sometimes, being the odd one out…” You sighed softly, really hamming it up for them. They were eating it up, leaning closer as you continued, “but Azul never made me feel like that. He was always so kind, so welcoming.” You smiled for a moment, before you face dropped and your lips pressed together into a tight line. “But then…” You hesitated again, your expression creasing into a distressed frown.
“Did something happen, prefect?”
“Yeah, yeah! Tell us Shrimpy!”
“Well… One day suddenly, he… Asked me on a date… But…” You started, but then you covered your face with your hands and shook your head, “oh I can’t say it, it’s just so… So humiliating!” You cried out, your voice muffled by your hands. Floyd and Jade were watching with rapt attention, Jade not even able to hide his obvious enjoyment at both your perceived distress and the opportunity to get some dirt on Azul, whereas Floyd hadn’t been hiding his excitement in the first place.
“But what, Shrimpy?”
“Please prefect, if you tell us, perhaps we can put your mind at ease…”
Slowly, you uncovered your hands from your face, to see the eager faces of the Leech twins nodding at you encouragingly. You leaned in close, and they followed suit, all three of you huddled together in the booth almost conspiratorially. You looked around nervously, before you continued in a hushed whisper.
“I had to turn him down… He got a little upset, understandably. He couldn’t see why I didn’t like him, why I wouldn’t give him a chance…” Floyd and Jade shared a discreet look at that, because that definitely sounded like the Azul they knew. “I tried to comfort him, to tell him that I thought he was a great guy and it was me not him but he just wouldn’t listen! So I had to tell him the truth…” You winced, wringing your hands together. If Floyd and Jade leaned any closer, you’d all be bumping heads together.
“The truth, prefect?”
“Ne, you can tell us, Shrimpy…”
You swallowed, before looking up at them with your best puppy dog eyes. “Okay, please don’t say anything but… … …”
“… I’m allergic to octopus…”
The table fell silent. Floyd and Jade stared at you, motionless, as you peeked up bashfully at them. Then suddenly, Floyd was roaring with laughter, his loud cackle making several of the customers in the Lounge jump in surprise. His hand thumped the table several times, knocking over his drink and sending the bright blue juice spilling all over the shiny white surface and onto the tile below. Jade effortlessly sidestepped before the mess could hit his shoes, but his shoulders were visibly shaking as his hand tried to hide his laughter
“Oh prefect… I’m so pffft… Ahem… I’m so sorry to hear that.” Jade attempted, hand still propped to his chin as he tried to compose himself, rather unsuccessfully screamed with laughter beside him.
“What is going on here?!”
A voice hissed through the Lounge, but the twins didn’t even flinch. If anything, it just sent Floyd into fresh peals of laughter, flopping down on the booth seat as he held his stomach.
Azul stood a few feet away, obviously brought out by the commotion and chaos that was currently happening in your booth. His eyes widened when he saw you sitting there, but he quickly schooled his face again, a detail that Jade caught, making him unable to resist his own toothy grin.
“Jade, you are supposed to be managing the bar. And Floyd, stop that racket right now and get changed. Your shift started thirty minutes ago! And clean up that mess!” Azul ordered with a stern expression, before his eyes landed on you, his lips pursing together, “and I would appreciate it if you didn’t disturb them when they are working, prefect.”
You held your hands up defensively as you started to shimmy out of the booth. “Actually, I was just leaving.”
Your words breathed some life back into Floyd, who’d finally recovered from his laughing fit to sit up and climb out of the booth himself, a rapturous smile on his face. “I’ll walk Shrimpy to the door~!” He announced, throwing a heavy arm around your shoulders before you could rebuff him.
“Floyd! You’re supposed to be—”
“I’m terribly sorry for my negligence, Azul. I was just trying to comfort our dear customer over their recent romantic distress.” Jade chimed in, and the only way you would be able to describe the grin on his face was feral. Floyd began cackling again, using Jade’s distraction of Azul as an opportunity to whisk you away and get out of work at the same time.
You pondered whether you should feel bad for setting up Azul for at least a week’s worth of ribbing from the Leech twins as Floyd steered you towards the Octavinelle mirror, but then you remembered he put an anemone on your cat. And Ace and Deuce. Suddenly, your shoulders felt a lot lighter. Well, they would, if Floyd’s lanky arm wasn’t still around them.
Floyd kept his arm around you right until you reached the exit of the Octavinelle dorm, but you chalked it up to him being on a good mood high because of what you’d just told him and Jade. But just as you were about to duck out from under his arm, you felt his hot breath against your ear for the second time that day.
“Ne, Shrimpy. Are you allergic to eel too?”
Before you could even react, you were getting sucked up into one of those magical bubbles again as it began carrying you towards the Octavinelle mirror, your expression bewildered as you stared back at Floyd, who sent you off with a cheeky grin.
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don't you forget about me (part three)
(part one)(part two)
Everyone’s left to “let him get some rest,” but Eddie doesn’t rest, not really. Although he does drift off the second he closes his eyes, his sleep is not restful and his dreams are plagued:
Chrissy Cunningham stood in his trailer, small blonde girl in her cheerleader uniform. If Eddie hadn’t only just come out of his room with an unopened baggie of ketamine, he might’ve thought she’d already overdosed. Her eyes were rolled back, body frozen stiff like she was having some sort of seizure. Eddie shouted at her, shook her shoulders, waved his hands and snapped his fingers in front of her face, but Chrissy didn’t respond. He feared she might collapse, but then she did something much, much worse: she began to levitate.
Eddie immediately let go of her shoulders and scrambled back as some invisible force slammed the girl into the ceiling. Her bones snapped; one at a time, her arms and legs twisted in unnatural angles. Her jaw unhinged and cracked out of place, her mouth now stuck in a horrible, soundless scream. Her eyes bled, dripping red down her cheeks, and then they exploded, popped with a sickening squelching sound, and her eyelids caved in to empty, bloody sockets.
Eddie wakes up screaming. His heart pounds frantically, the monitor beeping like crazy, and all his muscles are tense like he’s ready to run.
Someone is at his side immediately; a gentle hand slips into his own, a soothing voice asks if he’s alright and tells him it’s okay, he’s safe now, it was just a nightmare. Eddie recognizes that hand, that voice, that shape in the dark. When did Harrington come back?
Eddie’s gasping, struggling to inhale a proper breath into his fear-frozen lungs. His wild eyes dart over the figure sitting beside him before landing on the hand that’s curled around his. Harrington must misread something in his expression then, because he mutters, “Sorry,” and starts to pull his hand away.
“No,” Eddie manages, instantly grabbing the other’s hand again and gripping it tight. “Keep- keep holding onto me.”
“Always,” Harrington whispers, the word an exhale under his breath, so soft Eddie thinks he may have imagined it.
Harrington rubs his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. His touch is calming, grounding. Eddie’s breath begins to even out and his heart returns to a normal pace as his residual panic slowly dissipates.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he sighs heavily once he’s recovered a bit. He presses his free hand to his chest. “That was the most terrifying dream I’ve ever had in my life.”
“It’s over now,” Harrington says, still soft, still tracing circles across Eddie’s skin. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you anymore.”
But it can, because Eddie can still see those horrible images behind his eyelids every time he blinks. He says so, shakily, “Think it's burned into my brain now, though. It was so real, man, I’m not sure I’ll ever get her disfigured face and mangled body out of my head.”
Harrington pauses. “Wait a second, did you dream about Chrissy?”
“Yeah, how did you-?” Eddie starts to ask, then stops as he remembers what Harrington had said yesterday about Chrissy being murdered in his trailer. The realization sets in with a cold chill. He shakes his head in horror, tightening his hold on Harrington’s hand like it's a lifeline. “No. Oh no, please don't tell me that actually happened.”
“It did. I’m sorry, it did.” Harrington clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his now. “That wasn’t just a nightmare, Ed, that was a memory. You’re starting to remember.”
“Well, shit,” Eddie mutters. If that’s what his lost memories are like, he thinks he’d very much rather them stay forgotten. “I’m starting to see why my brain blocked it all out in the first place, then. Was the whole rest of the last 11 months that awful too?”
“No…” Harrington frowns and that kicked puppy look flashes across his face, darkening the spark of hope that had just flickered in it before. “Well, maybe, I don’t know. I hope not.”
“Great,” Eddie sighs, tired and sarcastic. He stares up at the ceiling where the gnarled ghost of Chrissy’s corpse still haunts his vision. “Can’t wait to remember more.”
“I’m sorry,” Harrington says quietly. A heavy sadness runs thick in his voice again, same way he’d spoken when he first learned of Eddie’s amnesia. He squeezes Eddie’s hand once and then lets go.
So much for always, Eddie thinks dimly. His hand feels cold now, naked and untethered without the solid pressure of Steve’s fingers curled around it.
“You should try to go back to sleep,” Harrington tells him. The mattress shifts, the springs creak, as he rises from where he’d been perched at the edge of the bed. In the empty space he leaves behind, Eddie only feels even more untethered.
A sharp rush of panic grips him at the thought of being left here alone in the dark with the twisting shadows and afterimages of his nightmare. “Wait, Steve,” Eddie calls out immediately, before Harrington can even begin to turn away from him. “Will you stay?”
“Yeah.” Harrington nods, murmurs, “I’ll stay.”
~
So Steve stays. He stays and he sits in the stiff chair by Eddie’s bed, and he spirals. Of course he spirals, in the silence, in the dark. He can’t seem to do anything else in Eddie’s presence lately but let his mind spin around in circles ‘til it breaks.
Was the whole rest of the last 11 months that awful too? Eddie’s previous question is the catalyst of his spiral this time, the words that are currently echoing in the whirlpool of Steve’s consciousness, because he hadn’t thought of that before. He has already wallowed in the idea that he was something so unimportant he was easy to erase, but Steve hadn’t yet considered the possibility that he was something so horrible he needed to be erased. It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? The nurse did say Eddie’s amnesia was in part due to psychological trauma, and his memories do end just before he and Steve properly met. Was being with Steve so awful Eddie’s mind lumped it in with all the other recent traumas and just had to wipe it away?
An ugly guilt twists beneath his skin, like a deep rot running black in his veins. Steve curls his hand into a fist in his lap, digs his fingernails into his palm as if the sharp bites of pain will help release what is dark and decayed inside of him. As if it will choke the voice in the hollow behind his heart that now tells him he deserved to lose Eddie’s love, or that maybe he never truly had it in the first place.
And, see, Steve knows he’s spiraling. He knows his brain has just tripped down some bullshit rabbit hole of self-deprecation and that really his despairing conclusions are not in any way rooted in reality. He knows Eddie loved him. He knows Eddie’s amnesia is not his own fault nor is it a reflection on him. He knows it’s got nothing to fucking do with him. Yet nonetheless, his mind continues to tumble downwards on a quest to prove the opposite. The rot still festers; the hollow still whispers.
“Hey, Steve?” Eddie’s soft-spoken words eventually cut through the quiet and shake Steve from his lamenting thoughts.
He sits forward. “Yeah?”
“I can’t sleep,” Eddie says. “Do you, uh- sorry, could you…maybe hold my hand again?” His voice is small like he’s asking for something embarrassing, and his hesitancy kind of breaks Steve’s heart. “Just until I fall back asleep. It just- it makes me feel safer.”
“Yeah, of course.” Steve scoots his chair closer to the bed and gently takes hold of Eddie’s hand again.
Eddie sighs, a heavy exhale of relief, his body beginning to relax almost immediately. He squeezes Steve’s hand. “Thanks,” he mumbles.
“Anytime,” Steve whispers in response. Always, forever, anything; because I love you, want you, need you, miss you. He swallows down the emotion that rises in his chest. Another spiral threatens to drown his mind again and he fights that off too, tries not to think about everything that fucking hurts.
He focuses on the familiar feeling of Eddie’s hand in his (it’s bittersweet; he’s not thinking about it), on watching the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest as he slips back into a more peaceful sleep (he wants to kiss his forehead, tuck him in like a child; he’s not thinking about it).
Steve leaves first thing in the morning. The second Wayne walks in and Eddie now has someone else there to watch over him, Steve tells the older man briefly about Eddie’s nightmare and then he’s out the door before Eddie even wakes up, and he doesn’t return that day.
He can convince himself, illogically, that it’s better for Eddie if he stays away - that Steve’s spiral was right and he’d only make Eddie uncomfortable in the daylight; the less he’s around, the less the rot inside of him can poison Eddie too. But also it’s selfish. Mostly it’s selfish. Because as much as Steve craves to be near him, it hurts far more to be around him and not be seen, not be known, not be loved. The ache of missing him when they’re apart is so much easier to bear than the ache of missing him when he’s right in front of him.
Still, Steve does come back that night. He doesn’t want Eddie to be alone, and with Wayne working graveyard shifts and everyone else having parents to answer to, Steve is the only one left who’s both willing and able to sit with him through the night. He has a feeling, just a feeling, same as he’d had the night before, that Eddie might need him again. Well- maybe not him specifically, but just someone, anyone, to comfort him in the dark, and Steve can be that someone. And maybe that’s selfish too, because it feels good, eases the ache a bit, to be the one to help Eddie, to take care of him. If Steve cannot be loved then he will settle for being needed.
Good for them both, then, that Eddie does end up needing Steve that night. Eddie jolts awake from another nightmare memory - this one about being chased onto the lake by Jason Carver and watching another body float above the water and be crumpled and killed by Vecna - and Steve is there once more to hold his hand and soothe him back to sleep.
And then, again, Steve is gone the next morning, back the next night. Such is the pattern he’s fallen into, the selfish, stupid pattern: gone when he cannot feel loved, back when he can feel needed.
Tonight is the worst nightmare yet. Steve can tell it’s bad even before Eddie wakes. The heart monitor begins to beep more rapidly, Eddie whimpers and twitches in his sleep. Steve grabs Eddie’s hand and tries to ease the nightmare before it worsens, though to no avail.
Eddie doesn’t wake up screaming this time, but choking and crying, rasping through hyperventilating breaths fragmented nonsense about bats and pain and death. He doesn’t seem to be completely aware or lucid right now, still stuck in his nightmare where he’s dying and he’s scared, so scared.
“Shh, Eddie, it’s okay. You’re okay.” Steve can’t stand to see him like this. Holding his hand isn’t enough. “C’mere,” he murmurs. “You’re alright.” He doesn’t even think, just climbs onto the bed with him and very very carefully, very very gently, sits them both up and pulls Eddie onto his chest, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close. “You’re alright,” Steve continues to whisper softly, lips brushing against Eddie’s hair. “Just breathe, baby, it’s okay.” (The pet name just slips out; neither of them notice.)
Eddie clutches Steve’s arms, leans back against his chest and tucks his face into the curve of Steve’s neck. He’s trembling, breath still rapid and panicked, not yet free of the waking dream he’s trapped in. “I died- I’m dead- I was dead,” Eddie keeps babbling in shaky, sobbing gasps. “It hurts- and I died. I don’t- I don’t wanna die- I don’t-”
“You’re not dying, Eddie, you’re not. You’re okay,” Steve reassures him. “You’re alive.” He gently pries one of Eddie’s hands off his arm and guides it to the boy’s chest, covering his hand with his own as he presses it over Eddie’s heart to give proof to his words. “Do you feel that? You’re alive, you’re so alive.”
Eddie sucks in a deep breath, lets out a tremulous exhale. “I’m alive,” he repeats, his voice wavering like he’s trying to convince himself of something he doesn’t quite believe.
“Yeah,” Steve confirms, still holding his hand over Eddie’s slowly steadying heartbeat. “You’re alive.”
Eddie repeats it again, a little more solidly this time. “Okay,” he breathes out. “Okay, I’m okay.” His hyperventilating has finally begun to ease, his tremors gradually dissipating. He seems to wake up a bit more now, settles back into reality. He rolls his face out of the crook of Steve’s neck and tilts his head up to rest it against his shoulder instead as he looks at him. “Steve,” Eddie says, not like a question or the beginning of a sentence, but more like he’s only just now becoming aware of who’s holding him.
Steve gives a small hum of confirmation in response. He doesn’t know if Eddie is going to want him to move now, if the way they’re situated is uncomfortable for him or if Eddie is even okay with this situation at all. Steve can’t tell. He should’ve thought of that first. Holding his hand is one thing, but pulling Eddie half on top of him and holding him there is another thing entirely. And Eddie doesn’t know him anymore. Steve wouldn’t blame the guy if he freaked out at coming out of a panic attack to find himself in some strange man’s arms.
But Eddie just closes his eyes, goes quiet and still for a few long moments, and so Steve stays where he is, assumes Eddie’s trying to go back to sleep. Steve will keep holding him until then.
“Why are you always here at night?” Eddie asks suddenly, opening his eyes again. So he’s not trying to go back to sleep.
The question catches Steve off guard, and not just because he hadn’t expected Eddie to speak again. “I, uh, I don’t want you to be alone- you know, with your nightmares.”
“No, yeah, I know, and I-I’m grateful for that, but,” Eddie clarifies, “I meant, why are you always only here at night? I know you’re around during the day, dropping off one of the kids or Robin or whatever, you just don’t come in. Like- you’ll hold me through a nightmare, but you won’t actually hang out with me and just, like, eat shitty hospital food and watch shitty hospital TV with me. What’s up with that?” Eddie looks up at him. His tone is light enough, but there’s a genuine curiosity in his eyes, and a confusion that borders on hurt. “Thought we were supposed to be friends, Harrington.”
“We are,” Steve says immediately. “We are friends. I just- I didn’t want to force that on you or-or make you uncomfortable or awkward or anything. I know you don’t know me anymore.”
“Well, you haven’t given me much of a chance to get to know you again,” Eddie states plainly, and that catches Steve off guard too.
“I didn’t know you wanted to.”
“Of course I want to,” Eddie mutters. “You’re a decent guy, Stevie. Not how I thought you’d be. Maybe I want you to keep surprising me.”
The way one corner of his mouth quirks up then, popping a dimple in his cheek, makes Steve’s heart stutter, chest warm with a rush of affection. He can’t help but smile a little too. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Eddie echoes, smirk stretching into a proper grin now. He taps his fingers where they rest on Steve’s arm. “You better hang out with me tomorrow.”
“I will,” Steve agrees, because how can he say no to a smile like that? “Promise.”
~
Satisfied, Eddie closes his eyes and settles back to try and fall asleep again. A lingering fear still runs like an undercurrent beneath his veins though, scared of sleep and dreading the possibility of another nightmare, another memory. He shifts, pulls Steve’s arms a little tighter around him. Eddie never seems to have bad dreams once Steve is holding onto him.
(part four)
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#progress progress progress#steddie#steddie angst#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#fanfic#mine#dyfamsteddiefic#<- specific tag for this fic
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hear me out: rafe is so daddy when he's spending all his money on ur pretty purses and shoes !! giggling as u make ur way down the strip of designer stores !!! but he becomes dad when he's scolding you for running off with the pogues . and then suddenly he's revoking ur allowance for the month bc u misbehaved and talked back .
-🌅
ugh this :/ he can switch it up fast !! daddy is nice rafe and dad is strict rafe yk ?? he’s gotta turn it on sometimes to keep you in check, can’t have you getting out of control 🙄 ugh the idea of him revoking ur allowance is sooo !!
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
you think he’s forgiven you for your little mishap, running off with the pogues — getting all friendly and going on adventures that he knows his delicate girl can’t handle. rafe has spanked the daylights out of you, lectured you until he’s blue in the face but he needs something else to really keep you in check. something more than physical.
“and— and you know i can’t have you running off on me like that baby it’s not fair on me s’not fair on you…” he rambles, having you perched on his knee all sniffly after your punishment.
“i know.” you shrink sadly, just glad your punishment was seemingly over.
“i gotta show you, baby— show you that i mean business, n’that im not just some bitch who’s gonna let you come in here unpunished after you run out on me. thats fair, right?” he squints, staring at you. you gaze back, face falling slowly in fear of where this was leading. when you say nothing, he jostles you slightly by suddenly reaching into his back pocket, tilting you on his lap making you hold on. he settles, pulling out his black card and holding it between his fingers.
“y’see this? you know this card very well don’t you? yeah… well this is the card that dad uses to put alllll that shopping money onto your card.” he punctuates the ‘your’ by tapping your chest with the card itself. “and all that money, you’ve been spendin’ helping out these pogues. that’s not very nice, is it now sweetheart?”
you continue to stare, glancing between his intense gaze and the card between his fingers. “so m’gonna have to cut your allowance for a little bit.” he smiles faux apologetically, his tone definitive.
“what?” your small voice asks, sitting a little further up his leg. “rafey they needed help, i didn’t need the money so i just—”
“i… didn’t say you could speak right now, baby.” his tone softens as the sentence goes along and you take it as your moment to shut up. “and i’m not cuttin’ you off baby no, i’d never do that. m’good to you, yeah? n’that’s not gonna stop. but if you wanna buy something, you gotta ask me. i’ll buy it on my card. understand?”
“…yes rafe.” you blink, feeling sorry for yourself. maybe you were spoiled, maybe you’d gotten too used to the hefty allowance that rafe was gifting you with each month but you were upset. you hated that you relied on him so much.
“right…good girl. knew she was hidin’ in there somewhere.” he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
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‘Reckless’
Summary; Miguel finds out why you’ve been too careless and reckless on missions..
Warnings: an argument between the two- its not to heavy.. mostly hurt/comfort
“Ow-“
You had just flinched your arm away from Miguel when he had grabbed it. You cradled it close to you as he then scolded you firmly, keeping an eye on you as you refused to meet his,
“You lied. It’s not a scratch!! You broke your arm and he almost had your head!!”
You rolled your eyes at his loud words and even scoffed, even though you winced when you tried to put your arm down, trying to show it was ok- which you totally failed at doing. Nonetheless you sighed, annoyance evident in your tone,
“Ok maybe I did! But it’s not that bad-“
With one hand on his waist and the other pointing at you, he snapped,
“You disobeyed orders! You’re making close calls and I don’t like it! Yes we can get hurt on the job, but not like this when you’re making poor choices.”
Feet planted on the ground you tried to keep a steady position and look strong, taking his yelling about safety and all, but in reality you were in pain and felt lightheaded, and slowly you were growing frustrated because of it as Miguel ranted on.
“Come on niña!! (Girl) what’s the matter with you-“
Finally you’ve had enough of his mountain of a man speaking down to you as you were of course shorter… but in his eyes all he saw was you being very careless.
The pain was getting to you, making your emotions swirl out of place, hence why you screamed,
“AND WHAT’S YOUR POINT!?”
Miguel flinched a bit at your unusual behavior with him, but he couldn’t help but let his ego bark back at you with some honesty to wake your head up.
“That you could’ve been killed!! That’s the point! Do you know what kind of problems that would’ve caused? Pain or anything? Cómo puedes ser tan imprudente y no preocuparte por las consecuencias, niña terca?!” (How could you be so reckless and not care about the consequences you stubborn girl!?)
Tears of anger and pain grew in your once sun-shining eyes as you shouted back, trying to reason out your deal,
“Because I have nothing to lose ok!?? Maybe that’s why I don’t care as much!!”
Miguel was about to yell back, but your words caught him off guard. Like if someone sucker punched him.
He didn’t look so bulky or so scary anymore, when he lowered himself onto one knee to get on your level, as he reasoned with curiosity, one hand resting on your good shoulder,
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
His brown eyes showed his genuine concern for you, unlike anyone you’ve known. You wanted to keep tough and play as the fearless Spider-Woman you were, but it was made impossible when Miguel got a hold of your cheek, beckoning you silently to speak up.
So at last, you broke and confessed, like a little girl and no longer like Spider-Woman.
Letting the façades you wore tumble down through your tears, into his large hands that would catch and hold them all.
“Nothing.… that I have no one back at home.. no family to mourn me. Bury me. Cover my graves with flowers. Like if I had to put everything aside and boil it down for me- I’m… alone.”
His lips parted a bit, as his eyes searched yours, trying to find the right words to say.
It had been a while since he’s used good encouraging words while being kind, but suddenly it was like a switch that flipped in him, and almost immediately he found the words, and he patted your cheek gently as he cooed, his anger and disappointment long gone.
“You’re not alone. You have me.. and I’ll never leave you out like that. But even then I won’t ever do such.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged a bit and shyed out with his eyes everywhere but on you, mostly cause of the fear it caused him to think of you six feet under, and he knew it’d be seen on him.
“The burying thingy and all.”
‘Oh so he wouldn’t bury me then? Or what?…’
“Oh.. why?”
Disappointment was heard in your voice, and Miguel was quick to address with his eyes on you this time, wanting to show he meant it with every bone and vain in his body,
“Because Dulce, I wouldn’t ever let you die on me. You’re not allowed to die under my watch, te lo prometo.” (I promise you that.)
Shyness took over you as the realization of your craziness, thinking it was ok to give up everything of you, when you had so much to lose.. so you apologized immediately.
“I’m so sorry- I didn’t know what I was thinking-“
“Shh shh sh.”
He shushed you right away, letting you know that it was ok as he added,
“It’s ok now.. you’re safe, alive, and here… No más lágrimas mi amada.” (No more tears my beloved.)
With gentle hands he cradled your face and let his thumbs wipe your tears away, refusing to let them fall.
He now wanted to see you cheered up, so he offered with the best smile he could muster.. if not the only one he showed- but just to you.
“You want ice cream after we leave the med? It’ll help with the fever you got.”
Twinkles were shining in your eyes as you replied with a nod,
“please?”
He chuckled at the sight of joy beaming on you, and he then stood up to his full height and took your good hand in his, leading you out as he responded sweetly, squeezing your hand comfortingly,
“of course Dulce-“
Then with a smirk most likely painted on his face, he added,
“-ven mi shadow.” (Come my)
Miguel knew deep down he had thought the same thoughts once, but with you around and so much more? He’d rather deal with the the weight of the good and bad everyday, then leave empty.
#miguel o’hara x reader#Miguel O’Hara x platonic reader#dad miguel o'hara#sunshine x midnight#Miguel x Dulce#miguel o’hara#miguel ohara#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel x reader fluff#miguel o'hara#miguel o’hara angst
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